Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Tsukishima Kei sits on the beach, fully clothed and hiding under an umbrella, and wonders how he ended up here.

It’s after the last bell that Yamaguchi approaches Kei’s desk, belongings left still unpacked on his side of the classroom. There’s only a week left until summer break and just a few tests left to take, but they still need to drag themselves over to the gym for practice. Volleyball is about the last thing Kei feels like doing right now after a double exam period, even if he’s begrudgingly admitted he enjoys the sport. This doesn’t change the fact that Ennoshita will kick their butts if they don’t get to the club room soon, which Yamaguchi knows. Kei isn’t sure what he wants to talk about that he can’t do while walking, so he gets to work loading his books into his school bag in the meantime.

“Hey, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi says, unperturbed by the fact Kei is continuing to put his things away. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to, because Yamaguchi will surely keep talking regardless. Maybe it seems rude to anyone looking in from the outside, but they’ve never needed a lot of extra words on his end. Kei needs to save his tiny bit of remaining energy for practice.

“I kinda already know the answer but I wanted to ask anyway because my mom said I could, should, actually-“

“Spit it out, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” he smiles sheepishly, eyes soft in a way that does something weird to Kei’s gut. “Okay, well, my parents were able to get some time off of work at the same time so we’re going to the beach next weekend, just for a few days before our next training camp. They said I could bring a friend so I thought I’d ask.”

“I hate the beach,” Kei says flatly, and his best friend just laughs at the impolite remark, because he’d been there for the incident that caused that opinion as kids. Sand in places it shouldn’t be, and an unfortunate run-in with a jellyfish is all that needs to be said, really. Kei’s never been an outdoor person anyway.

“I know you do. You’re always my first choice so I wanted to make sure before asking someone else. I’ll probably invite Hinata after practice since he’ll be out of control with excitement if I do it before,” says Yamaguchi with another laugh, which, good call, because that’s definitely the most likely outcome. As clever as it may be, it doesn’t change the fact that Yamaguchi intends to bring Hinata. Kei doesn’t dwell on whether it’s Yamaguchi asking someone other than him, or just that it’s the annoying orange himself that irks him. They’re second years and he should be more mature than this by now, but Kei is nothing if not fueled by sarcasm and pure, unbridled pettiness. He has no desire to unpack any other emotions playing into things right now, or ever, actually, if he can help it. He’s made it this far without needing to, at least. Kei is more than content to settle for being Yamaguchi’s first choice, as if there’s ever been any real competition for that slot. Their dynamic has certainly shifted since their fight in Tokyo last year, Yamaguchi having pulled himself up to more equal ground after all this time in regards to his own confidence. Maybe it was less pulling himself up, and more pulling Kei back down to earth. For every wall he’s put up, Yamaguchi has never felt the need to break them down — he hops right over them like they’re nothing, simply giving Kei the occasional push to open the gates on his own. Kei briefly wonders just how much Yamaguchi has noticed it.

“If I see a single jellyfish I’m never speaking to you again. Go grab your stuff already, practice starts in a few minutes.”

The smile that Yamaguchi breaks out into, with nothing more than a nod, lights up the almost empty classroom before he runs back to his desk. Normally Kei has no problem going on ahead of Yamaguchi, but again, he really doesn’t feel like playing volleyball today. Being a good student doesn’t make intense testing periods any less draining, and besides, Kei’s not the one being considered for captain next year. Yamaguchi can deal with the consequences of being late with that clause alone.

“Do you wanna sleep over tomorrow? My mom’ll give us all the details about the trip. She can just call your mom too if that’s easier, it’s up to you. Though I probably shouldn’t be assuming she’ll say yes,” Yamaguchi drones on now that he’s collected his things. He clearly senses Kei’s hesitation with an accuracy no one else on earth possesses, stopping himself just outside the classroom door and momentarily blocking their path to the gym.

“I’m recording that ocean documentary coming out tomorrow if you want to watch it with me. It’s probably gonna freak me out of wanting to go to the beach, but I saw a trailer for it a couple months ago and it looks really good!”

Wow, yeah, he really knows Kei too well. Yamaguchi likes science programs just as much as him, sure, but more on the tech side than Kei’s preferred biology end of things. Friday night’s been booked in his mind for a few weeks now, and yet Yamaguchi’s already accounted for it somehow. He’s not really sure how he feels about that. Kei doesn’t brag on him the way Yamaguchi embarrassingly tends to with Kei, but he knows he’s pretty lucky to be Yamaguchi’s friend. Even more so his number one. To this day he’s not sure why Yamaguchi likes him so much, seeing as he’s more than a bit of a jerk, but he’ll take it.

“Sure. And she’ll say yes,” Kei assures. He grins without thinking, and Yamaguchi’s expression is so fond Kei has to look away in embarrassment.

All Kei has to say is “Yamaguchi invited me to” before his mom tells him he can go, no further information needed. He gives her the limited info he has anyway, electing to ignore how pleased she clearly is at the preposterous notion he actually agreed to this. He’s not sure if that says more about him or his mom.

With an English test and another grueling practice down, Kei checks his gear bag to make sure he’s got everything he needs. Nishinoya and Tanaka have been more boisterous than usual with vacation season coming up, even if they’ve mellowed out a bit as seniors. Kei is low on patience, and discreetly motions to the clubroom door with his head for Yamaguchi as they change, getting a nod of understanding in response. The only way to avoid the usual team hangout outside Coach Ukai’s store is to sneak out ahead of everyone else, so that’s what they do. Kei likes his team; the third years are fairly reliable and the four new first years are a lot less trouble than Hinata and Kageyama were last year. Less trouble than they still are, considering their obnoxious behavior is somehow becoming even more flirty these days. Kei likes his team, but not enough to sit through another half-hour of yelling and fighting over who gets what flavor of popsicle. He has a limit, and he knows what it is. Yamaguchi does too, and he’s kind enough to adapt to it for Kei’s sake today. Honestly, going to the beach with him is the least Kei can do.

The boys have almost reached the house by the time Yamaguchi gets a text from Hinata asking where they went. Kei doesn’t want to know if Hinata has only just realized they’ve left, because a migraine is starting to set in at just the idea of comprehending how the redhead’s brain works. The sun is out later now that the solstice has passed, so Hinata doesn’t even have ‘it was dark out!’ as an excuse. The sky is streaked with hazy clouds as they walk around the last bend in the road, quiet besides the cicadas buzzing in the background and the tapping of Yamaguchi’s fingers against his phone. Once they’re inside with shoes lined up by the door, Yamaguchi’s mom calls out to greet them, the smell of curry drifting from the kitchen.

“You boys head on up, dinner will be ready soon. Kei, honey, I talked to your mom a little while ago, I’ll fill you two in while we eat, okay?”

“‘K!” Yamaguchi chirps, plucking Kei’s bags from his arm before he has a chance to protest and pads up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Uh- thank you,” Kei says awkwardly over the sound of a timer he assumes belongs to the rice cooker going off. He’s not sure Mrs. Yamaguchi even heard him, but he chooses to slink off after a few more seconds and make his way upstairs anyway, knowing the route perfectly fine after having walked these halls a thousand times over the years.

Yamaguchi is already sprawled out on his bed with homework laid out on top of unneeded textbooks, the eraser side of his pencil between his teeth the way he does when he’s trying to focus. It’s gross and should prevent Kei from borrowing his pens on occasion, but for whatever reason it doesn’t bother him the way it ought to. It’s kind of the same deal with Yamaguchi’s inability to sleep without drooling. Why it’s so endearing, he will never know.

The desk is free and clear for Kei who prefers an actual table and chair to work, something Yamaguchi has always insisted he take despite Kei making a point to assure him he can use the floor or take turns if he wants. The students in the college prep classes get even less of a break before summer, so a small pile of homework still persists. Maybe it would ultimately go faster if they worked on their own, but they’ve been studying together for so long that they’ve got a sort of rhythm down, dividing their subjects into who needs help with what. Yamaguchi has proclaimed to be terrible at English even if his grades say otherwise, and in turn he looks over Kei’s work and explains anything he missed once in a blue moon. It’s certainly more efficient now that they’re no longer tasked with the chore of tutoring the idiot quick duo, for what it’s worth. Kei is grateful Yachi has primarily kept up that job all the way into the new school year. This, what they have here, is enough for him to handle.

“Tsukki, would you mind checking this equation? I want to make sure it’s right before I use the same formula on all the problems,” Yamaguchi says after a handful of minutes working in silence.

“Bring it here,” nods Kei, and Yamaguchi happily obliges. “Yeah, it’s right. Good job so far.”

The tiny bit of praise lights Yamaguchi’s face up in a grin once more, something Kei can’t help feeling a bit smug over. He likes the smiles Yamaguchi saves just for him, even if it’s something he’ll forever keep to himself. He’s pretty sure Yamaguchi knows anyway. Neither of them have a chance to put any equations to paper, though.

“Tadashi, Kei, dinner time! The table’s set, go wash up!”

Yamaguchi practically bounces down the stairs. Kei thinks he looks like an excited puppy going to the park for the first time. How ridiculous.

“How was you boys’ day?” Yamaguchi’s mom asks as she helps serve them, passing a bowl of mixed vegetables around and forcing some onto her son’s plate.

“It was good! I hit the floor pretty hard during practice so don’t be surprised if I end up with a nasty bruise on my leg, though. It wasn’t even to save the ball or something cool like that, I just tripped over a mop handle,” Yamaguchi shares, a self deprecating laugh following. His mom just shakes her head with a smile, having seen the same sight many times in a variety of ways since they were kids.

“It was fine,” Kei shortly and insightfully supplies.

“It’s always ‘fine,’ isn’t it,” Yamaguchi’s mom teases. The boy to his side giggles through a mouthful of rice, and Kei lets the corners of his mouth quirk upwards just a little. ‘Fine’ is better than bad, so what does it matter?

“So, Kei, we’ll pick you up on Thursday around 11 and head home Sunday afternoon, okay? I don’t know how much Tadashi’s told you, but we’re staying at my family’s place on the coast since it’s open. You remember it, right? Gosh, it’s been so long!”

“I vaguely remember some of it. I’ve already vowed never to speak to Tadashi again if I see a single jellyfish,” Kei deadpans.

“I can’t control the sea, Tsukki!”

Mrs. Yamaguchi chuckles behind her hand, because she has actual table manners. Ones her son clearly hasn’t picked up from her.

Kei doesn’t use Yamaguchi’s given name much anymore now that they’re older, but he does here. He’s never been able to call Yamaguchi’s mom ‘auntie,’ which feels a lot more awkward for whatever reason, so Tadashi it is. Kei won’t admit it, but he’s kind of glad to have such a stupid nickname. It’s easier than hearing Yamaguchi call out Kei’s name in that sugary sweet lilt, the one his voice morphs into when he’s really happy. Kei has no intention of diving into any of that.

“You two will have the room downstairs to yourselves, but you’ll probably need to air out the futons first,” she continues once she’s stopped laughing. “There’s a convenience store a few minutes down the road, so we’ll pick up some groceries then. Don’t eat too much junk food or you won’t be able to swim.”

“I’m not swimming in jellyfish infested water.”

“THERE WON’T BE ANY JELLYFISH!” Yamaguchi asserts with ridiculous determination, like he’s now decided to channel the power of Poseidon just to force Kei to swim. He nearly knocks over his cup with the force of his declaration.

“Bring a swimsuit anyway, Kei,” Mrs. Yamaguchi chides. “You’ll end up regretting it if you don’t. Plus, your mom requested photos. You’ll survive.”

“Please do not. She’s going to ask us to recreate that stupid picture of us sharing an inner tube.”

“Pfft- I forgot about that. You might’ve just dug your own grave, Tsukki,” Tadashi snorts.

“It’s your grave too, you know. How do you expect us both to fit at this age, anyway?” scowls Kei.

“We can stand in a shallow spot and each stick one leg in!”

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, Kei,” Yamaguchi’s mom says, pulling her phone out from the purse hanging off the back of her chair. Kei takes back his previous thought about table manners as she begins reading something off to them. “‘Please get a picture of the boys in an inner tube while you’re there! Kei’s been asking me to replace our framed photo of them as kids for years now, and this sounds like the perfect chance to grant his wish.’”

Yamaguchi cackles, and Kei regrets every life decision that’s led him to this point. Careful what you wish for, or whatever.

They really should finish the homework they sort-of-kind-of started before dinner. It’s not all that much work, just a handful of worksheets. They really should, but they don’t. They watch the documentary instead, sprawled on opposite sides of the couch connected by a shared blanket, and Yamaguchi loses his enthusiasm for the trip with each new shark they learn about. His feet are cold where they occasionally brush against Kei’s.

It’s 11:16 on Thursday when the Yamaguchi family arrives at the Tsukishima residence, because Yamaguchi’s dad allegedly fell asleep in the shower when they were supposed to head over. He’s working nights right now, so it’s not a rare occurrence, apparently. Kei’s mom won’t let him leave until she’s reminded him to keep in touch fifteen times, and given him an obnoxious kiss on the cheek for good measure. She does the same to Yamaguchi, who’s kindly hopped out of the car to grab Kei’s bag, and his smiling promise is more impressive than the pained groan Kei responded with.

“Have fun, boys! Remember to wear sunscreen and stay hydrated, okay? Oh- Kei, are you bringing a volleyball? You better at least play while you’re there, no hiding inside all weekend!” Kei’s mom waves at the car as he gets in. At least Akiteru isn’t home for the weekend, or this five minute ordeal could’ve been a twenty minute one. Little victories, he supposes.

“I’ve already got one! Thank you for letting him come!” Yamaguchi bows before opening his own door.

“Thank you for having him! See you soon, love you two!”

“We’ll have him back on Sunday! Probably around one?” Yamaguchi’s mom says through her rolled-down window, and Kei is both annoyed and relieved that everyone is talking like he’s not literally sitting right there.

“Keep me posted! I mean it, Kei!”

And with that, they’re off.

It’s been a whopping ten minutes and Yamaguchi’s parents are fussing over the directions pulled up on one of their phones, the GPS already telling them to make a left turn directly into a rice field. Kei rummages through his bag, making sure everything is in place. It’s not like there’s anything he can do about it now, if he somehow forgot something when packing last night, but it still puts his mind at ease. Sports glasses, check. Eye drops, check. Wallet, check.

“Looking for your headphones? If things are this bad already, it’s only gonna get worse once they make us sing road-trip songs with them,” Yamaguchi points from beside him, like Kei doesn’t usually wear them to travel regardless. He still doesn’t understand how Yamaguchi can play Pokémon on his DS in a moving vehicle. Just thinking about it is making him nauseous. Speaking of; motion sickness pills, check.

“I heard that, Tadashi!” Mrs. Yamaguchi scolds, turning from the passenger seat to flick her son’s forehead gently. Tadashi yelps as the action makes him drop his stylus, hurrying to grab it before it rolls under the driver’s side. “Just for that, we’re listening to my favorite 80’s station. No complaining!”

Kei doesn’t bother pointing out that both of them have grown up listening to their parents play that kind of music. It’s less of a punishment and more the norm, and, as entertaining as it would be, he refrains from giving her any better ideas.

“Wake me up when we get there.”

“Sure thing!” Yamaguchi smiles as Kei finally slides the aforementioned headphones over his ears amidst the squabbling. These he didn’t need to look for— right at the top in his bag, their rightful spot.

Kei doesn’t actually sleep-sleep though, because resting is the best he can manage if not in a bed. Big difference. Still, the remainder of the drive goes by pretty quickly, comfortable warmth against Kei’s thigh where Yamaguchi’s knee meets him sitting cross-legged in the backseat. There really isn’t enough room, and anyone else would find their limbs shoved away in an instant, but Kei doesn’t find himself minding the contact.

“Tsukki, we’re here,” Yamaguchi prods softly, as promised. Kei peels himself away from the car window while the two adults begin unloading the few bags they’ve brought, Yamaguchi’s father tossing what Kei assumes is the house key to his son.

“You boys go ahead and get settled, and let me know what you want from the store. I’ll head out once I’ve stretched my legs a little,” he says to them, and the grin Mrs. Yamaguchi gives them says that probably means accidentally taking a nap, but I’ll go instead.

The house is vaguely familiar to Kei, in an uncanny deja vu kind of way, with how much smaller it looks from the outside now that they’re a lot older. And taller.

“Come on in! It’s just a few rooms down here and the bedroom upstairs. The bath is down the hall, we’re right over here!” Yamaguchi explains, his bag haphazardly hanging over his shoulder by one strap as he turns toward their room for the weekend. “Ah, you probably didn’t need me to tell you that. I forgot you’ve been here for a second there.”

“Are you really that excited?” Kei asks with a raised eyebrow. “I do remember being here. Not where everything is, though. Thanks.”

“No problem, then! And I’m a perfectly reasonable level of excited, Kei. You haven’t even noticed that you’ve been smiling since you stepped out of the car,” goads Yamaguchi, pointing with his thumb to what ends up being a small mirror hung near the front door. Kei’s eyes follow on reflex, and he watches his own face flush ever so slightly in real time upon seeing that Yamaguchi is, in fact, very correct about that.

“I hate you, Tadashi.”

“No, you don’t,” Yamaguchi replies as he slides the shoji screen door open and steps into their room, a melody playing in his voice and warm grin on his face. A single, traitorous laugh escapes Kei as he follows.

The rest of the day is rather uneventful. Yamaguchi’s mom is right about needing to air out the futons, and also about Yamaguchi’s dad falling asleep on the small couch in the living space. Kei is perfectly content to read over the low table in the room he and Yamaguchi are sharing, simple tatami mats lining the floor with just enough space for the table, a small dresser, and their beds for the weekend. He glances up from the page he’s on as Yamaguchi slides another screen open, stepping out onto a veranda seemingly attached to this room alone, something Kei definitely doesn’t remember. The breeze is warm without being stuffy, the smell of ocean salt faint but present all the same.

“Wanna walk down to the beach?” Yamaguchi eventually asks, pulling Kei’s focus yet again. “It’s just down the path here.”

Kei properly looks outside now and sees the worn dirt trail leading up to the back of the house, traces of blue visible between the trees. Kei isn’t sure if it’s the sky or sea.

“Not today, but you’re welcome to. I can tell your parents what you want from the store,” he answers. He vaguely recalls the area; the strip of beach down the path is part of the long stretch of coastline that meets up with the town, a less crowded residential area right out there. Are the dive shop and snack shack still here? Kei doesn’t bother asking. He’ll find out soon enough.

“Nah, that’s okay! We have tomorrow and Saturday. I’m happy just hanging around here for a while. I’ll probably go to the store with my mom later, though. You’re welcome to come, if you wanna. You’ll have to wait while she talks to literally everyone working there though, since she grew up here.”

“As tempting as that offer is, I’ll pass.”

“It seemed rude not to ask,” Yamaguchi snickers. “Want anything in particular? I’m gonna grab some snacks and drinks, if you wanna share them later.”

“Not really, whatever is fine,” Kei says, but he falters, which Yamaguchi immediately picks up on, because of course he does. This is just getting embarrassing at this point.

“I can see if they have those strawberry shortcake ice cream bars in the freezer there, if you want?”

“…Thank you.”

It’s dark by the time Yamaguchi’s dad wakes up, announcing in a panic that he can still go to the store before realizing there’s a plate of karaage waiting in front of him. Mrs. Yamaguchi’s laugh can be heard from the living area before the boys even make it into the room for dinner.

They get the itinerary over the meal— the whole family will drop by the beach tomorrow (‘I guess this is your official welcome as an honorary Yamaguchi, Kei!’) to ensure they get that stupid floatie picture. Kei just nods politely and accepts his fate, choosing to ignore how this all makes him and Tadashi sound like an old married couple. Sunday, it’ll just be the two of them free to do whatever they want. Kei’s head feels like it’s gonna burst from all the noise.

They set the futons out side by side, and eat their ice cream out on the veranda in silence. Yamaguchi knows Kei needs a break and seems more than happy to just sit with him, licking vanilla off his finger and humming contently beside him as the air chills for the night. He takes his bath and climbs under the covers first, since Kei can’t fall asleep until everyone else has. It gives Yamaguchi a head start, at least in theory. Kei’s grateful for the small gesture that comes from years of being friends.

He does, however, wake up to Yamaguchi’s leg flung over his waist and his forehead pressed to Kei’s back. Hot breaths ghost against the thin fabric of Kei’s t-shirt, heat spreading across the skin uncomfortably. Without waking the other boy, Kei slides himself out from under their tangled sheets and limbs, putting his glasses on and padding off to the kitchen. The house is quiet, 7:58AM glowing green on the small coffee maker sitting on the counter. Once he’s made himself toast, because he’s not a heathen who’ll eat ice cream for breakfast, he returns to their room to read until Yamaguchi wakes up.

“Mornin’, Tsukki,” Kei’s finally greeted with an hour or so later. Yamaguchi stretches out like a cat as he sits up, sleep and drool staining his face and eyes, and wow, that is some serious bedhead. The worn pink tee he’s got on has slipped around his neck, exposing a shoulder as freckled as his cheeks. It’s not an unfamiliar sight in the slightest, but it makes Kei roll his eyes anyway.

“Go wash your face.”

“Fineee.”

Yamaguchi returns with damp hair pushed back around his forehead and an ice cream bar in his hand. Heathen.

Kei sits on a colorful picnic blanket, under a colorful umbrella, in khaki shorts and a shirt and an absolutely ridiculous bucket hat. He sits on this blanket that keeps shifting uncomfortably in the sand, and wonders what god he’s angered to deserve the position he’s in right now.

It had taken Yamaguchi’s parents another two hours to wake up, and an hour after that to have lunch and pack what they’d need for the beach. Kei’s not complaining. It’s only a five minute walk down the trail to the water, but Mr. Yamaguchi walks through a spiderweb between the trees and promptly drops the big water jug with a dignified shriek. It seems the top wasn’t closed all the way, and now the dirt trail is one of mud. Fantastic. He insists they continue on the perilous journey without him while he walks the twenty steps back to refill the jug, so they do. Yamaguchi walks into another spiderweb a minute later.

So, why isn’t Kei in a swimsuit, and why is he wearing this stupid bucket hat his mother seems to have slipped into his bag? One: Yamaguchi’s parents are here today and Yamaguchi is currently trying to inflate an obnoxiously patterned inner tube. If Kei has to take this picture, he’s not going more than a foot in the water to do so. Even though there aren’t any jellyfish, which is actually starting to feel like a bad thing. Two: have you ever had to wear sunscreen with glasses on? Would not recommend. Maybe the bucket hat will shade his face enough that he’ll be unrecognizable when the picture inevitably ends up on the whole team’s phones.

Yamaguchi is in swim trunks at least, a loose tank top with arm cutouts down to his hips. It’s more skin than he usually shows with his clothing, Kei notes, light gold and littered with freckles less concentrated than his shoulders. He’s put on a little bit more muscle since last year— at least he seems to finally feel less ashamed of the way he looks these days, he supposes. Kei still isn’t really sure why Yamaguchi used to be so insecure in the first place.

“Tsukki! Wanna get this over with?” Yamaguchi calls from the thin line where the tide darkens the sand, inflatable tube under one arm. He’s absolutely having too much fun with this.

“Do I have a choice?”

“I don’t think so,” he laughs. His mom, dressed in a sundress and currently parked in a beach chair, pulls her camera out of her purse and gets ready to follow. Oh, god. You know it’s bad when an actual camera is involved and not just someone’s smartphone.

“One day you’ll thank us for capturing the beautiful moments of your youth! You’ll be recreating this photo for years until you’re too frail to walk,” she wistfully insists to Kei.

“Depending on how many people Tadashi sends this to, there may be no ‘our’,” Kei claims with squinted eyes.

“Sorry, Tsukki, but whatever happens after Hinata sees it is kinda out of my control,” he grins sheepishly at the blatantly empty threat. “At least I can’t see Kageyama wanting to keep a picture like that as blackmail. Pretty sure he’d rather die than have that on his phone.”

“If he had a picture like that I’d kill both of you, but you know it’s not him I’m talking about. The shrimp has managed to befriend everyone he’s ever met, including Bokuto and Kuroo. You are paying for my funeral when this haunts me for the rest of my life,” Kei glares.   

“Here lies Tsukishima Kei, brother, son, and friend. Remembered for his talent, intellect, and that one super embarrassing photo at the beach. He will be missed.”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi repeats, and Kei can tell he isn’t in the slightest.

“If we have to do this, can we at least take a normal picture for once?” Kei asks Mrs. Yamaguchi in a mix of faux nonchalance and annoyance once they’re in the water, who immediately agrees to take as many as they’ll let her. While it sounds like an out-of-character request, Yamaguchi’s eyes soften subtly a moment later as he thankfully seems to pick up Kei’s indirect message, whether it was actually needed or not. The picture being with you isn’t the embarrassing part. Don’t overthink it.

The water is a bit too chilly for Kei’s liking as he steps into the tube. There’s just enough room for both of them, as long as they don’t mind that it can’t slide any higher than mid-thigh. A particularly strong wave has the courtesy to roll in and nearly send them both into the drink, of course, because that’s exactly what they need right now. Kei can feel the sunscreen that hasn’t totally soaked into Yamaguchi’s skin yet on his clothes as they’re pressed up together, and it’s somehow nastier than Yamaguchi’s drool.

“What are you doing?” he asks, startled, when Yamaguchi links arms with him.

“We’re supposed to be recreating the picture, Tsukki. Don’t blame me,” Yamaguchi says in a hushed voice that almost reads as bashful. When Kei turns to give him the stink eye, Yamaguchi’s cheeks are tinged pink. They’re both gonna get sunburnt if this isn’t over quickly.

“Say cheese, boys! Kei, wipe that scowl off your face!” Mrs. Yamaguchi directs while her husband makes faces behind her, like pulling a wicked quintuple chin and blowing raspberries will involuntarily make Kei smile for the picture. If it didn’t work on him in elementary school, it’s sure not gonna work now. She takes the pictures, Kei slinks back to his book under the umbrella and out of the sun, and Yamaguchi falls victim to another rough wave before he can join him. Tank top dark with water and sticking to his skin, Yamaguchi collapses onto the beach blanket to read through a volume of some manga with Pikachu on the cover.

“You’re dripping all over the pages, you know.”

“Ack- you’re right,” Yamaguchi notes but makes no effort to do anything about it.

“That’s a crime that can’t be forgiven.”

“I’ll write to you from jail.”

“I certainly hope they don’t give you any books while you’re in there,” says Kei, slight smile on his lips before he can stave it off.

“I feel like that qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.”

Yamaguchi continues disrespecting his manga, his dad snores in the background. Kei can’t wait to get back to the house and take a bath. It’s an alright day.

The morning of day two is much of the same, except that no one eats ice cream for breakfast. Yamaguchi’s dad wakes up at a reasonable hour to make pancakes and only burns two of them, still figuring out the settings of a stove he isn’t super familiar with. Kei has gathered that pancakes are one of the few things he’s actually good at making, if the story Mrs. Yamaguchi tells while cutting up berries has anything to say. He’s not paying much attention, but the words ‘fire alarm’ stick out loud and clear.

“My parents are meeting up with a few of my mom’s friends this afternoon, so we’re free to hit the beach whenever we want,” Yamaguchi says around his last mouthful of food out on the veranda. “Most of our stuff is still in the bag we brought out yesterday.”

Kei intends to bite back a remark about wanting to go at approximately never o’clock, but surprises himself with the ultimate betrayal of, against all odds, actually kind of looking forward to it.

“Whenever is fine.”

“Let’s get dressed and head over, then! I mean, if that’s okay?” stutters Yamaguchi, like he’s still somehow unsure about taking the lead. This trip has been a mild yet entertaining role reversal, if nothing else. Kei won’t say it out loud just yet, but Yamaguchi is going to be an amazing captain next year. When he really needs to hear it, Kei will tell him.

“Sure… don’t look at me like that, I’m going to wear a swimsuit today.”

Yamaguchi just grins, bright as the summer sun before them.

There are no new spiderwebs along the path today, which already marks an improvement. Kei twists the stake of the beach umbrella into the sand as Yamaguchi hurries after a runaway towel, scooped up by the light but ever-present ocean breeze.

“Sunscreen first,” he huffs once he’s made the few steps back, as if there was any chance Kei wouldn’t remember. One never truly forgets the feeling of what can only be described as torture. Resigning himself to the fact that he’ll have to get at least some visible sun to avoid his mother’s squabbling, Kei peels his shirt off, placing it neatly in the beach bag and out of the sand. Yamaguchi has significantly less tact, crumpling his up and tossing it onto the pile.

“15 or 30?” he asks.

“30.”

“Figured,” Yamaguchi laughs, handing the bottle off. “Don’t forget your face, Tsukki.”

“I have no interest in turning myself into a raccoon, thank you,” Kei scoffs, fussing with his glasses to emphasize his point. Have you ever seen the tan lines glasses leave? It’s a month long superhero mask, kindly informing the rest of society that your superpower is being a fool in a man’s shoes. The hat is unfortunately the lesser of two evils.

Kei has no intention of leaving the shade of the umbrella until he has to, but endures the delightful experience of applying SPF to the rest of his skin anyway. The more time it has to dry down, the less time Kei will have to spend wishing he’d never been born. He pays no mind to Yamaguchi following suit behind him until he’s finished, Yamaguchi coughing awkwardly to grab his attention.

“Tsukki? Would you mind putting some on my back for me?”

Well. Okay. There’s nothing weird about seeing his best friend shirtless. They change in front of each other as well as the entire team on a daily basis, and frankly, they’ve seen much more than this during bathhouse visits. However, there is a very big difference between that, and, well, it doesn’t really need to be explained— it’s awkward, right? Weird. A feeling he doesn’t often associate with Yamaguchi. Kei isn’t huge on physical touch even if he doesn’t mind when it’s his best friend, but add lotion in and you’ve got a very uncomfortable situation for him. He has no time to formulate a way out of this, though, because Yamaguchi is soon pressing a can to his shoulder, cold metal and a peeling label biting at his skin.

“Tsukki? The cap is already off, can you just spray me real quick? I can do the rest myself.”

Kei stares at the canister he’s now holding, looking blankly back to the item in his other hand. Orange bottle: SPF 30, water resistant. Blue spray can: SPF 15, quick drying.

“Turn around. And don’t blame me if you still get burned,” Kei commands, because he can’t get Yamaguchi’s back if he’s facing Kei. It has absolutely nothing to do with the blush that may or may not be sitting high along his cheeks and collarbone in response to his own misguided thinking. This trip so far has not been a highlight of his greatest moments, that’s for sure.

If Yamaguchi notices, he doesn’t say anything, thanking him with a chuckle and spraying down the rest of his body once Kei’s done his job, face once again buried in the novel he’s almost finished by now. Using a beach towel to turn the pages without getting them greasy, it’s a far cry from Yamaguchi’s willingness to drip water all over his comic yesterday. Again, heathen.

He hears Yamaguchi moving around before he bothers to look up, and it’s not until Kei’s made it to the very last sentence of the very last chapter that he does so. When he does look up, he’s left with more questions than the cliffhanger his book ends on.

The shorter teen is dragging a comically large stick around in the sand, presumably found half-buried somewhere along the beach. Kei just watches him for a bit, incredulous.

“Care to explain what you’re doing?”

Yamaguchi turns his way with a look of surprise like he wasn’t expecting Kei to notice the ridiculous scene unfolding in front of him. Kei laughs, quickly covering his mouth in a way that makes Yamaguchi laugh, too.

“I’m making a volleyball court!”

“Where are you planning to find a net?” Kei calls, eyebrows quirked and lingering smile falling short of being a real smirk. Yamaguchi surveys the area like he’s gonna find one just sitting around somewhere, giant stick still in hand, and Kei can almost see the lightbulb appearing over his head as he looks his way. God, he’s a dork. Maybe Kei is becoming soft, now that he’s reached the very old and wise age of 17, to find it so endearing. He really hates how much he’s been using that word lately.

“Let’s use the umbrella! It’s kinda small, but that’s less running, right? I’ve never actually played beach volleyball, so this might be a total failure.” He trudges up to the blanket and swoops over to the other side, continuing his crude court outline. He nearly hits Kei in the head in the process. Ugh.

“ So what does the winner get?”

Seemingly surprised at Kei’s initiative and the implication he’s actually going to put some effort into this, Yamaguchi stills for a second. He knows better than anyone that Kei has quite a competitive side, but it’s not one that normally kicks into action at a time like this.

“Huh? Oh, I don’t know. Did you have something in mind?”

“Is the snack stand still there?”

“…Loser buys shaved ice?” Yamaguchi asks, grin spreading across his face.

“You’re on.”

Kei learns fairly quickly that he’s made a grave error.

Namely, sand. There isn’t a soul on earth who enjoys when sand sticks to your feet at the beach, sunscreen and ocean water turning to cement on your legs. It ranks pretty high on Kei’s personal list of least favorite feelings ever. Has he made that clear yet? However, none of this occurs to him before he instinctively drops to  receive a serve Yamaguchi sends over the umbrella-net with one point to a set win. None of this occurs to him until he’s hit the ground, crouched on his knees with granules of sheer despair digging into his shins. None of this occurs to him until he’s trying to stand back up now that the ball is back to Yamaguchi’s side of the court. Oh, god. Why did he think this was worth artificially flavored chunks of ice? Yamaguchi, of course, spikes it right into the dead-center of Kei’s half while Kei’s still moving at half speed. Why is he here, just to suffer. There are people who do this for a living? For fun? Forget having ‘the moment’ last year where he finally fell in love with volleyball, this is the moment he falls out of it.

“Ha! Good fight, Tsukki!”

“Oh my god, why did I even go for that. This was a terrible idea,” Kei groans.

“That’s game point!” Yamaguchi cheers, like he genuinely hadn’t expected to find himself in this position. “Wanna go for best of three?”

“God, no. I’ll buy you all the kakigori you want if it means we can be done with this.”

“I’ll accept that, but only because you really gave it your all. Hey, you were only two points behind, so why don’t we just each buy our own? That seems fair enough.”

“A deal is a deal. I’ll be back,” says Kei, trudging back under the umbrella and grabbing his wallet and sandals. He grimaces as he brushes some of the sand off his legs, pulling on his previously discarded shirt and ditching the hat. He has at least that much dignity left. The fewer stares, the better.

“Thanks, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi positively beams.

When Kei approaches their stretch of beach with two paper bowls in his hands, that smile only grows brighter.

“Melon or green tea?”

“Green tea!”

Yamaguchi raises his bowl, giving Kei a look and refusing to move until he follows suit. The shorter teen clumsily clinks them together, foregoing the ‘cheers!’ part in favor of shoveling a spoonful of ice into his mouth. Here it comes in three, two, one…

“Ack!”

“Brain freeze?” Kei asks, amused but not surprised in the slightest. Yamaguchi just nods while choking back a laugh. It’s in stark contrast to the beads of sweat still rolling down his bare torso, flavored syrup dripping onto his fingers. Before he thinks better of it, Kei reaches out and scoops up a bit of Yamaguchi’s dessert, ignoring the indignant look he gets in return.

“You know I would’ve given you a bite if you’d just asked, Tsukki. You like it?”

“Not bad, not worth getting brain freeze over, though- hey!” Kei squawks as Yamaguchi takes the opportunity to return the favor, taking a chunk from the side of Kei’s melon ice with such haste that half of it falls off his spoon, catching the rest in his free hand and tossing it into his mouth.

“Volleyball reflexes,” says Yamaguchi while bringing his now empty palm up in fighting stance like he’s some kind of food thief ninja, almost knocking his own bowl over in the process.

“Oh my god, you are ridiculous.”

“I can live with that. You wanna swim after this?”

“Not particularly,” Kei says blankly.

“Fine, wanna stand in the water and scare children away with your scowl while tossing to me?” Yamaguchi asks, only mostly joking. “Your sports goggles are fine for it, right? I’m gonna wash my hands and legs off at least, if you want to join me. It’s okay if not though, I know you’re doing a lot you normally wouldn’t already.”

Don’t push yourself too hard lingers unspoken in the air. Once again Kei finds himself not exactly wanting to say no, something he’s never had a problem doing even when it comes to Yamaguchi. Many would likely agree in that saying no is actually one of Kei’s greatest talents. He can picture the poorly contained rage radiating from Hinata after initially refusing to tutor him and his idiot partner last year, the look on enemy spikers’ faces when he won’t back down during a game, signature smirk plastered to his own. But that’s beside the point.

It’s true that he’s pushing himself out of his comfort zone, literally and metaphorically, but an unwavering truth  about Tsukishima Kei is that he won’t do something he really doesn’t want to do. For better or for worse, a trait not any more flattering than his ability to say no, this fact always remains the same. Sand for salt certainly isn’t a great trade-off, but fortunately for Yamaguchi it’s sufficiently hot enough for Kei to surrender. That much is enough, even at the cost of finally being forced to put sunscreen on his face. In all its atrocious glory, the bucket hat tragically (and inexplicably) has a bit of cardboard in it, meaning he can’t wash it if it gets drenched in sea water at some point. A real pity and totally not something Kei would do on purpose if not for it belonging to his mother. All he can do is say a little prayer that this grand act of kindness doesn’t result in the worst tan of his life.

The ocean spray is chilly around his ankles, foam lapping at his feet as he wades in. He and Yamaguchi shudder in tandem as a mild wave greets them without an ounce of courtesy, the latter  nearly dropping their volleyball.

“Still no jellyfish,” Yamaguchi concludes. “Tsukki, don’t feel like you need to stay in if it’s too cold.”

“Shut up, how old do you think I am?” Kei furrows his brow in a display that’s not really aiding his case. There’s no apology this time, just a ball chucked at his head with a laugh that reverberates across the water.

“Thirty passes in a row?”

“Ten. It’s gonna be a lot harder than in the gym, you know,” reminds Kei.

“Twenty it is,” Yamaguchi announces.

“Fine. You’re keeping score, though.”

As Yamaguchi probably expects, Kei still counts each volley himself, even if he doesn’t number every pass aloud the way the other teen does. It’s rough going at first; two in a row, then four, then seven, then two again. Daichi and Ennoshita would surely be so proud. Beads of water collect at the ends of Yamaguchi’s hair when he has to drop close to the surface, doing his best to keep the ball in play when it falls at a bad angle, sparkling pale in the sunlight. Yamaguchi swims to collect the ball after rogue passes, Kei just trudges slowly along the sandy ocean floor.

It’s still far from dusk, but the sun is clearly creeping lower into the sky by now. They’ve been out for at least three or four hours by now, which should be enough to satisfy his mother even if he comes back as pasty as he left. Sure, whatever, he’s having fun too. Eleven passes, twelve passes, another wave to throw them off balance. Four passes, five passes, six. Kei lets himself get lost in the rhythm of the tides and steady beat of numbers trickling in from several feet away.

“That’s sixteen! We’re almost there!” Yamaguchi hoots as the volleyball ricochets off his forearms in a smooth, straight arc.

“I am not starting over if we mess up again now,” says Kei while returning it. The water feels a lot less refreshing now that he’s worked up a sweat again, even waist deep. The sound of the seagulls cackling above them feels personal at this point. Is that a motorboat? Are boats even allowed this close to the beach? Kei can’t remember.

“The last one only counts if I catch it! Nineteen…” Yamaguchi calls.

“Twenty,” they say in unison when the ball connects with Kei for the last time, though with expected differences in volume and enthusiasm. He won’t lie with some line like ‘everything moved in slow motion as the ball gracefully descended into Yamaguchi’s waiting arms’ or something, but he also won’t deny the little feeling of satisfaction when Yamaguchi does catch it. Unfortunately, any words he has in response to Yamaguchi’s cheering are turned into bubbles as a major wave knocks him (and Yamaguchi, presumably) down and under. Well, that certainly was a motorboat just a minute ago. Boogie boards aren’t exactly known for massive wakes. That he’s heard of, anyway.

Kei stands himself back up and his presumption is proved correct when he hears the water’s surface break nearby.

“Are you okay, Tsukki?! Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Yamaguchi panics like he personally summoned a tsunami to wipe Kei out or something, swimming over his way. Or to get the castaway volleyball, Kei isn’t really sure. The ocean water has already dried with the sun on the lenses of his sports goggles, which means he can no longer see through the thin, splotchy layer of salt coating the glass.

“I can’t see.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Did your glasses break or is there water or sand in your eye or something? Do I need to call an ambulance?! Oh my god.”

“It’s just sea salt, stop freaking out,” Kei sighs and peels the goggles off, shaking his head. “All I have to do is rinse them off with tap water. My normal glasses are in the bag, I just- is it clear until there?”

“Huh? Oh, like the beach? There’s kind of a lot of sticks in the sand, but other than that you should be fine. Do you want me to grab your glasses and bring them closer?”

“No, I don’t want to risk damaging them. I didn’t bring my backups. Just- could you please walk me back?”

“Of course, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi agrees immediately. Even without his glasses Kei isn’t completely blind, and Yamaguchi’s relieved smile is easily discernible at his side. All he really needs is to follow behind Yamaguchi, maybe with a steadying hand on his arm, but when Yamaguchi wraps his fingers loosely around Kei’s palm he doesn’t make mention of it. They reach the umbrella without issue and when Yamaguchi gives Kei the case his glasses are in, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Say what you want, but it always pays to be prepared.

“I had a really great time today, Tsukki. Sorry it probably wasn’t all that fun for you,” Yamaguchi says shyly as they pack up, similarly exhausted and ready for a shower. Kei’s hair hasn’t felt this crunchy since gel was forced into it during last year’s cultural festival. Yuck.

“Don’t come to conclusions on your own,” he says plainly, tossing the recovered volleyball to Yamaguchi who nearly dumps the contents of the now-packed beach bag out trying to catch it. He succeeds with a smile, pride and belongings intact.

“We are the champions!”

“What?”

“I was gonna say that when we hit twenty tosses before the wave knocked us out. It probably would’ve sounded cooler when it actually happened, though,” Yamaguchi explains with a chuckle. There’s only really one guy who’s ever made that phrase sound cool, but Kei keeps that to himself. He owes Yamaguchi for walking him back or whatever, so he settles for a toothless eye roll and shake of his head. That seems fair enough.

“You walk ahead, I don’t want to hit you with the umbrella,” says Kei. “I doubt you want to end this trip with a concussion.”

“I’d have to leave you and Yachi to deal with Hinata and Kageyama’s fighting alone, and I don’t think anyone is prepared for that,” Yamaguchi laughs like that isn’t a one sentence horror story. While Yamaguchi is genuinely friends with all of them, out of the three, Yachi is the only one Kei actually considers a friend— that he’ll admit. None of that changes the fact for either of them that the other second years’ romantic-tension-filled arguments are ever frequent and exasperating beyond belief.

“Definitely walk ahead, then.”

Yamaguchi’s parents aren’t back yet and it’s too early to eat, so Kei settles for cleaning off his sports glasses while Yamaguchi takes a quick shower. Needing more time for his hair to dry, obviously, Kei agrees to go second on the promise that Yamaguchi will be quick. ‘We could just bathe together like when we were kids,’ he’d teased, following up with an assurance he was only kidding before heading off when Kei fails to form a coherent sentence. Look, he doesn’t fluster easily, he’d just been caught off guard. Scrubbing the lenses gently with fresh water from the sink, he scolds himself for not having a retort at the ready for quite possibly the first time in his life. Sigh. He really is losing his edge in his old age. I didn’t realize showering required a chaperone. Does the bathtub have magical powers to suddenly become big enough for both of us? You’ll have to take me out to dinner first. Oh god, no. He could actually gag. Thankfully the front door opens with a rustle, pulling his attention away from his freshly cleaned glasses and below-average mental comebacks.

“Hi Kei, dear, how was you two’s day?” Yamaguchi’s mom asks as she makes her way into the small living space. “What’re you up to over there? Did something happen to your glasses?”

“It was good, Tadashi is in the shower. They’re fine, I just had to wash the salt off,” Kei answers.

“I assume you two went swimming, then? How was the water today? I only got my feet wet yesterday and even that was a little too chilly for me!” Mrs. Yamaguchi says, now swapping places with Kei in the kitchen to look through the fridge.

“Tadashi swam, I just walked in it. It was as cold as yesterday so I wanted to keep it that way until a wave knocked us out,” he answers politely. He loves Yamaguchi’s family, but small talk has never been his forte, no fault at all to them. As if on cue Kei hears footsteps creaking down the hall, and Yamaguchi appears with hair still dripping to save the day. A clean shirt hangs lazily around his neck and Kei can already see a faint tan line where Yamaguchi’s shorts ride low on his hips.

“Shower’s open, Tsukki! How was your visit?” he asks his mom with the same kindness Kei always hears from all three members of the family.

“Good, good, now put your shirt on, silly boy. Help me get dinner ready, we’re just using up our leftovers. Do you remember my old friend Takami? We ran into her today, your father is grabbing some vegetables from her market down the street.”

Kei isn’t really sure if he should just slip out, or if that’d be rude even though he’s no longer part of the conversation, but Yamaguchi meets his eyes with a smile and head tilt directing him towards the hall. Kei gives a nod in return while Mrs. Yamaguchi rummages through the cupboards, looking for some utensil or something, and Kei is grateful to finally get the day’s activities off his hair and skin. The memory of the day’s so-called ‘beautiful moments of their youth’ are enough of a memento. He doesn’t need sand under his fingernails and sunscreen residue as some kind of a reminder.

Yamaguchi’s dad is back by the time Kei exits the bathroom, and there’s food on the counter waiting for him. He takes it graciously and joins the rest of the household, happy to primarily half-listen to everyone else talk while he eats. It’s kind of hard to follow the conversation when Kei doesn’t know any of the people Yamaguchi’s parents are talking about regarding their activities today, but he tries his best out of courtesy. Yamaguchi does most of the talking and Kei chimes in here and there as usual, contributing more when called for. They don’t expect anything out of him, but he participates as much as he can anyway when the topic turns back their way. What they got up to today, are they excited for the training camp when they get home, et cetera. It’s pleasant enough. Kei loves his mom despite his halfhearted complaining, and though this is taking up about the same amount of energy, it’s a nice change of pace. It’s just the two of them at home, three if Akiteru is visiting. Fewer people means those who are involved have to put more effort into keeping the discussion going. They have no problem eating through comfortable periods of silence at home, and Kei is fine chatting about their respective days, but having the ability to redirect and fade into the background is refreshing. He pops another piece of karaage left from last night into his mouth as Yamaguchi’s dad starts into a story about some wallet he found on the ground while at the market.

The sun is long gone by now, the dark sky disguised by the thicket of trees engulfing the house. A quarter to ten, according to Kei’s watch. Too early to sleep but too late to do much else. It doesn’t help that Yamaguchi keeps putting his DS down to check his phone while Kei tries to read another book he’d anticipated needing to bring. It’s distracting, but this particular novel’s exposition already isn’t doing a great job of capturing his attention. Kei’s read a few books by this author. Maybe it’ll pick up further into the plot if he sticks it out, maybe this one’s just a dud. Anyway, he doesn’t have to wait long before Yamaguchi finally gets up from where he’s been lounging on his futon and walks closer Kei’s way.

“Hey, Tsukki? Wanna go down to the beach? It’s our last night here and I wanna show you something.”

“Something you want me to see that you didn’t show me during our entire day there. Is this a riddle?”

“Come on,” Yamaguchi sighs with a smile, and Kei smiles too, standing up without further explanation. “I’m gonna go grab the beach blanket, make sure you have a sweatshirt! It gets pretty cold on the water once the sun goes down.”

“I am aware of how the sun and wind affects temperature. You’re lucky this book isn’t very interesting,” Kei quips back but complies, making it over to his still relatively neatly packed bag.

“Sorry, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi says loudly over his shoulder from the doorway, laugh light and clear as a bell. He doesn’t call Kei out, not this time.

He’s glad he put the hoodie on— it is cold, the kind of light chill that nips at your ears and gives you goosebumps when the wind hits your bare skin. It’s comfortable. The air is smoother than this afternoon, so Yamaguchi is able to spread the blanket out without assistance. Kei did offer to help, for what it’s worth.

The moon reflected on the ocean is something out of a painting, shimmering silver spread across the ripples spanning the surface. The whole scene would probably be more impressive if they were from the city, where artificial lights eternally block out the sky, but Kei can appreciate the moment nonetheless. No more distant shouts from happy children and parents chasing after them, just the faint buzz of a thumping baseline playing on a boombox somewhere at the edge of town. When Kei looks over to a still-quiet Yamaguchi, he finds his eyes focused above them, less like he’s enjoying the view and more like he’s searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” he finally asks.

“Jupiter. My dad keeps track of this kind of thing and he told me we should be able to see it this time tonight… ah, right there! You see that dot?”

“They’re all dots.”

Yamaguchi snorts and elbows Kei lightly, leaning in at eye level to point at whatever spot he’s referring to.

“Fine, that slightly larger dot. At 3 o’clock. See it now?”

Kei’s shoulder is warm where Yamaguchi is pressed up against him, breath hitching involuntarily when the cool summer night breeze sweeps across his face.

“Oh, yeah,” he concedes once he sees what he hopes is the right dot. It’s a faint red-yellow color, barely noticeable among the sea of stars as vast as the ocean in front of them.

“You’ve always liked the stars.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Yamaguchi laughs. “Even though I don’t really know much about them. It’s more your lane of science than mine anyway. They always made me feel less alone as a kid though, I guess. Like a reminder of how big the world around me is, full of people just like me looking up at them. That sounds pretty stupid though, huh?”

“It doesn’t,” Kei says quickly and with conviction, clearly catching his friend off guard. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

“Oh. That’s good, then,” Yamaguchi accepts, turning his gaze back to the flurry of lights above them. They sit like that for a few more minutes, drinking in the night surrounding them until Kei breaks the spell.

“The moon and stars.”

“Ah- huh?” Yamaguchi says, somehow still more eloquent than Kei’s feeling right now.

“Us,” Kei says thickly.

“Yeah… you’re right,” Yamaguchi laughs breathily, and Kei is weightless. “You’re right.”

“Can I say something that’s gonna make you mad?” asks Yamaguchi a short while later, once it’s clear Kei isn’t going to elaborate further on his clumsy previous declaration.

“Even if I say no you’re gonna do it anyway,” Kei says. He may half-heartedly tell Yamaguchi to shut up on the regular, and a couple of years ago Yamaguchi probably would’ve kept quiet if Kei really asked him to. But, for as much as he does sometimes talk, Kei enjoys listening to him, and Yamaguchi finally values himself enough to say things regardless. They really have come a long way, haven’t they?

“I’m really glad you agreed to come here with me.”

“That was supposed to make me mad?” Kei genuinely questions, confused.

“I was going to tell you I think you’re really cute, but I chickened out. Sorry, Tsukki,” he says solemnly.

Oh. Kei can’t exactly say he hasn’t seen this coming for a while now, but he’s still glad he hasn’t just been imagining the air around them, or what really feels like a lack of these days. He’s not sure exactly what to make of that statement. He does know that he can’t convince himself or Yamaguchi that the heat creeping across his face is sunburn, though. Maybe he should’ve spent less time under the umbrella. Then he would’ve at least had an excuse.

“Tell me some other time, then,” he finally says with an affect as steady as he can manage. Honest emotion is not exactly his strong suit and they both know it, but Yamaguchi is too nervous himself to look Kei’s way and find his eyes trained pointedly at the ground.

“Unless that thought is gonna go away once we’re home,” he adds on. It may sound like a flippant and dismissive statement from his stilted delivery, but it’s a quiet admission, acceptance, that Yamaguchi won’t miss. Kei is very much aware he has a terrible personality and even worse communication skills, but if Yamaguchi still thinks he’s cute, that’s good enough for him.

“If that thought’s been there for six years already I don’t think location is gonna change anything,” Yamaguchi says with a short laugh.

“I don’t get it.”

“Huh?” Yamaguchi startles, finally turning to look at Kei.

“What you see in me. As a friend or… whatever,” Kei admits, laying back against the blanket with only the hood of his sweatshirt to protect him from stray sand. “You always say I’m cool, but I don’t see how that equates to much.”

“You are cool, the coolest person I know. But, you’re also a huge dork. And I like that side of you, too. The one that has a sweet tooth and loves science and secretly wishes it was easier to connect with others,” Yamaguchi grins, joining Kei with his back to the ground beside him. “You pay attention to how I’m feeling even though you don’t make a big deal about it, and you’re working harder than anyone I know. You hate the beach and you’re here anyway because you knew it would make me happy. Even if it was partly out of your unwavering commitment to being petty. You’re not as hard to read as you think you are, Tsukki. Not to me, at least. Being your friend has never been difficult.”

“How dare you assume I came for any reason other than pure spite,” Kei says flatly, eliciting laughter from the other boy. Kei’s lips quirk up despite himself.

“What brought that on, anyway?” Yamaguchi asks, gently despite his still bright and warm tone of voice. He knows Kei’s insecurities, but gives him the opportunity to spell them out for him. And if Yamaguchi’s been this honest, it’s only fair for Kei to return the favor.

“I’m… scared, I guess.”

“What? Why?”

“Of things changing,” he admits, smile faded.

“Because I called you cute?”

“You didn’t call me cute. You were going to call me cute.”

“Yeah, I can’t really argue with that,” Yamaguchi lets out a single, awkward laugh.

“You’re my best friend,” Kei practically whispers. His voice is so weak he can see Yamaguchi turning to look at him in concern out of the corner of his eye.

“What makes you think that’s gonna change? Oh… I, uh, I can take back what I said about you being cute if it makes you uncomfortable? Wow, I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have said that to you, god, sorry, just pretend you didn’t hear that-“

“Tadashi. You are the most embarrassing person I have ever met in my life. Even more embarrassing than my mom. And my brother, combined.”

Such a bold and patently untrue statement would’ve surely caught Yamaguchi off guard even if it hadn’t begun with the startling use of his given name, in this setting at least. It keeps the anxious teen from spiraling out of control at any rate.

“I- Huh?”

Kei pinches the bridge of his nose behind the wire frame of his glasses, flushed face fully hidden behind his hand and the shadows of moonlight it causes.

“You are so embarrassing that it’s making me feel less embarrassed to say that I’m really happy right now.”

“What- seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I am nothing if not a shining beacon of sincerity and good will,” Kei says as uninterestedly as possible, slipping back into the comfort of his usual snark.

“Then… what do you see in me, as a friend or whatever?” Yamaguchi asks with the tiniest hint of vulnerability in his voice, still teasing kindly in the way only he’s allowed to. He knows what Kei sees in him. It doesn’t stop Kei from wishing he had the guts to tell him outright, the way he knows Yamaguchi deserves.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” he laughs breezily. What a liar.

Yamaguchi sits up again, dragging Kei up with him by the hand and resting his chin on his knees. He doesn’t let go of where his fingers grip Kei’s tightly, trusting that Kei will pull away if he wants to. He doesn’t.

“Kei… can I kiss you?” Yamaguchi asks minutes later with a voice as gentle as possible, a softness like their friendship is going to crack apart at the seams if he’s not careful.

“…Do whatever, if you want.”

“I’m not going to do something if you’re not comfortable with it,” Yamaguchi says, firm. “If you can’t say it out loud, just push me away, okay? Hard. I won’t be upset.”

He leans in, slow, hand still grasping Kei’s. Gives Kei ample time to let go, back away, punch him, if he wants to, whatever he needs to do to reject this. Kei just takes his glasses off with his free hand and puts them in his hoodie pocket, where they’ll be out of the way and won’t get damaged by the sand. Squeezes Yamaguchi’s hand once and meets him in the middle as confirmation. I want this just as much. You don’t know it, but you’ve always been the cooler one between us.

His heart doesn’t thunder in his chest the way the people in the movies say it will. There are no fireworks, no sparks flying, just a warmth spreading through his body like honey in his veins. Yamaguchi pulls back and Kei chases him, noses bumping briefly as their lips meet again. It’s okay. He’s never done this before, and neither has Yamaguchi. Their hands remain where they are, the number of remaining kisses short and chaste with inexperience, a hint of ocean salt against Kei’s mouth. It doesn’t need to be anything spectacular— Kei can feel the quiet comfort they’ve always found in each other like this, like it’s as natural as breathing. They can leave tonight like this. They have all the time in the world.

Yamaguchi is so close Kei can see his lopsided smile clear as day once again when they finally part. It’s impossible not to smile back, and Kei makes no effort to try and fight it this time. Reaching over into his pocket, Yamaguchi grabs Kei’s glasses and slides them on for him, which somehow seems more intimate than anything else up to this point. Yamaguchi apparently agrees with this unspoken sentiment, as his face barely-visibly reddens further like he wasn’t the one who just pulled that move. The shorter teen drops his head onto his knees again, undoubtably feeling like resting it on Kei’s shoulder would be pushing things just a little too far for right now.

“You okay?” he checks in.

“Yeah,” Kei breathes. It’s evident that Yamaguchi is treading carefully after Kei’s confession of worrying about change. Kei’s just glad he agreed to come on this trip, despite the stupid floatie picture he’ll be hearing about until the day he dies. You win some, you lose some. The training camp in a few days is gonna be a nightmare; thank god Suga and Kuroo have graduated, because Kei wouldn’t survive otherwise.

“We don’t need to talk about anything right now. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“You saying that and me responding means, we are, talking about something right now.”

“Tsukki. Why must you always ruin the moment with your scathing remarks,” Yamaguchi says with a poor attempt at a glare, before bursting into laughter at Kei’s equally poor attempt to look unbothered. “You could’ve at least said you think I’m cute too, you know.”

Kei smiles fully, now unfiltered under the bright light of the moon above them.

“I’ll tell you some other time, then.”