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Tadashi is not sure why he thought it was a good idea to get himself a diving certificate in a country where he has to communicate in English which he still is absolutely terrible at. Sure, he can understand it and he can communicate well enough to go on trips such as this one to other countries with no one but himself, Hinata, Kageyama and Yachi, but getting a diving certificate all by himself? He is deranged apparently.
Unfortunately, he realised this a wee bit too late as he is currently on a boat with a bunch of other people on its way far, far out in the ocean for his first real diving trip. How he handles this is also part of whether he can complete the process of getting the certificate.
Again, he can’t for the life of him fathom why he’d thought this was a good idea, and he’s actually convinced this hadn’t been his own idea at all, someone else must’ve possessed his body and his mind and pushed him into this.
If he so had to get the diving certificate, why couldn’t he have done it in Japan at the very least. Literally everything would have been easier.
He doesn’t actually know if there are any PADI diving courses he could take there, he doesn’t know in which countries PADI have stationed themselves, but still. The farther out on the ocean they get the more Tadashi is starting to regret his decision and the feeling of betrayal toward Hinata for bailing on him grows.
Of course, Tadashi knows it isn’t Hinata’s fault he cannot be on boats, the shorter boy had actually sincerely tried to make himself come with as support; he is not a bad friend and it’s hard for Tadashi not to sympathise with how guilty and ashamed Hinata had looked and sounded when he told Tadashi that he just couldn’t go, just the mere thought of being on a boat makes me ill. Still, Tadashi is bitter. Yachi had also first thing told Tadashi that boats are a big no-no for her, and being bitter at her is an even bigger no-no for him. As for Kageyama, well… It’s not very likely he’ll leave Hinata’s side for anything, and Tadashi is positive that being with Kageyama alone might actually be even worse than going completely alone, considering their relationship—or lack thereof. There’s only so much awkward silence Tadashi can stand before he bursts.
And now here he is, surrounded by people who look about ten times as experienced at diving than he is—they’re not even doing anything in particular, but simply because none of them look like they’re about to hurl from anxiety they automatically look more experienced in Tadashi’s eyes.
In all honesty though, despite Tadashi’s current anxiety he absolutely loves water, being underwater and the aqua life. There is actually a valid reason for him even wanting to get a diving certificate, he wouldn’t be going through all of this otherwise. It’s just— how he had to make up his decision in another country. The other foreigners around him, most of them looking like they’re from Europe, seem to have their own guide who speaks their language, but there is no Japanese guide. Tadashi, Hinata and Kageyama has been lucky Yachi is so great at English and until now, Tadashi hasn’t really had to worry. The final test he’s going to have to take will be in English, but that’s fine because he’s supposed to be taking his time and write answers on a piece of paper, there are no people involved he has to discuss with. Right now, there’s only that. During diving though, there are universal signs, and thanks to them Tadashi cannot wait to get underwater so he won’t have to use his voice and his words. He can just use hand gestures he remembers perfectly because studying has never been a problem for him, it’s the talking part.
Tadashi forces himself to take a deep breath, and not fall too deep into his dark spiral of thoughts about how everything can and will go wrong—
He screws his eyes shut for a moment, counting to ten as he breathes deeply and slowly, and opens them again. For the first time since the boat left the harbour he lifts his eyes from the floor and glances at the people around him. They’re all talking with each other, divided into small groups and discussing loudly and animatedly in languages Tadashi can’t identify. He can make out a few voices speaking in a clear American English, and he can make out a few parts of what they’re saying, but most of it is drowned out by the other people talking. As Tadashi glances around he notes that they’re not really that many, it just sounds like it—and feels like it.
Finally, Tadashi’s eyes land on the one silent person on the boat except for himself; a bespectacled tall boy with blond soft-looking curls who looks no older than Tadashi himself. He reaches that conclusion solely judging by the other boy’s face, because the blond’s height definitely could have fooled him. The boy is sporting a disinterested look as he stares off to the side, toward the boat’s back. Tadashi’s eyes darts to the boy’s sides, searching for people who might be the his parents or something, that could have forced the blond to come because he seriously looks that disinterested. He looks plain bored. He even looks as though he’s not aware of all the noise and energy around him, like it all just bounces right off of him. But Tadashi assumes that could have something to do with the headphones covering the blond’s ears. Tadashi finds that he can’t really look away, because despite how bored and sour the blond looks there’s a confidence in his demeanor and aura that nearly blinds Tadashi—him with his own crippling bad self-confidence. But it’s— it’s fascinating, just as it simultaneously makes Tadashi extremely nervous.
Swallowing and with slight pink dusting his cheeks, Tadashi realises that not only does the stranger seem too cool to exist, he is also incredibly handsome.
As if he could feel Tadashi’s gaze on him and hear his thirsty thoughts, the blond turns his head right at that moment and looks straight at Tadashi.
Oh my God, Tadashi thinks as tries to will himself to look away; he can feel rather than see the stranger’s heavy stare on him and Tadashi knows his cheeks are growing even redder—
But after only a few short moments, the stranger furrows his eyebrows slightly, barely even noticeable, and looks away again.
Tadashi heaves a relieved, heavy sigh and drops his gaze to the floor again, cheeks ablaze and ears burning. He sits frozen for at least five minutes, hands tightly clasped in his lap and staring at the exact same spot until he knows his cheeks aren’t red anymore. Then he chances another, more discreet, glance up at the blond again, feeling bashful about not being able to keep his eyes away. But, to his defense, the stranger has such a strong presence, like it’s demanding he be noticed.
He dares only appreciate the sight of the stranger’s long neck and lean frame for a few seconds before he wrings his gaze away again. Like this trip wasn’t bad enough already.
He has to admit though, that for a moment he had forgotten the entire reason why he had been nervous and anxious in the first place—only by looking at the other boy.
Tadashi drops his head in his hands and makes a whining noise at the back of his throat, knowing that the noise is entirely drowned out by the boat’s engine. He mumbles hopelessly, “I’m too unstable for this.”
“Yamaguchi?” His name is spoken with a heavy American accent laced with something that sounds much like Spanish. The guide looks up expectantly.
“H-here,” Tadashi responds weakly, hating how tiny he sounds and that he can’t even say one word in English without stuttering. He can feel looks from the others boring into the side of his head. When he chances a glance to where he knows the blond is positioned, also further behind the crowd, he finds him staring straight at him, expression still stoic and Tadashi hastily looks away. In the corner of his eye he sees the guide nod and check him off on her paper.
He gulps, looking down at his equipment and restlessly checks the straps of his BCD for the umpteenth time as more names are being called, hands shaking a little bit and his heart beating quickly against his ribcage. No matter how much he loves the water and how much he knows he’s going to love diving for real, he’s so scared of it he’d actually be a little bit grateful if he barfed right here and now so that he can sit out. But the bigger and louder part of him wants that the least of all, because he wants to be able to do this, he wants to dive, he wants to be strong.
“Tsukishima?” The name is pronounced with such an accent Tadashi almost doesn’t register that it sounds an awful lot like a Japanese name.
“Here,” comes a flat voice, deep as though the owner of it is about to die from boredom, and Tadashi snaps his head up to stare in the general direction from where the voice had come from. Just in time he sees the blond’s hand being lowered and mouth closing, this time with the gaze resting on the guide.
Ah. Now he has a name for the handsome stranger whose heritage just became the most relevant question in Tadashi’s head. The name is definitely Japanese, but the blond—Tsukishima—had spoken that one word with such fluent tongue Tadashi is genuinely confused. Maybe he’s got a parent who is from Japan, because he sure sounds like he could be an American through-and-through.
“—and then just follow my lead.”
Tadashi snaps his gaze to the guide, wide-eyed. She’s waving a person over and Tadashi has no idea what she had said; he’d been spacing out again. Oh crap. The person sits down on the edge of the boat, the guide asking if he’s ready before tipping him backwards into the water.
Tadashi’s heart jumps into his throat. It’s not a big deal, not really, but he’s never entered the water like this before and oh God, he’s got weights worth of six kilos wrapped around his waist and a heavy fricking metal tank of air on his back, what does he do, he’s going to drown—
“Yamaguchi?”
Tadashi is ripped out of his panicked thoughts for the moment by the guide’s expectant voice. His eyes flick to the other side of the boat just in time to see another guide tip Tsukishima in—mask on and regulator in his mouth and everything—and looking around Tadashi finds he’s the only one left.
“Y-yes?” he stammers, taking—or trying to take—a step forward but stumbles clumsily, just barely preventing himself from falling face-first to the floor, having forgotten he’s wearing fins. He feels sick.
He knows he should ask for the instructions again, he knows, it will make everything easier and, realistically, the guide will not judge him; she’s there to instruct him but he can’t do it.
“Are you okay?” she asks when Tadashi hasn’t yet approached her, her eyebrows furrowing in concern and her arms stretched toward him as though she’d been prepared to catch him.
Tadashi racks his brain for his English, come on, brain, two words.
“I’m f-fine,” he manages after an awkwardly long pause and the guide eyes him for a moment before nodding.
She reaches out her arm and he steps forward, this time wary of his fins, and sits down on the edge shakily. He feels as though he’s voluntarily stepping into his own death.
But then the guide grabs the hose his BCD and presses a button that elicits a startlingly loud suction sound. He knows what that button does, he knows all of this, but his brain has gone completely blank.
“Don’t forget to inflate your BCD before entering the water,” the guide reminds him, kindly and patiently, and Tadashi can feel himself let out a breath as some of the tension drains from his body as his BCD is being filled with air, pressing comfortingly around him. “You don’t have to be nervous, Tadashi, you’re gonna do just fine.”
The use of his given name has the intended effect; he relaxes more, if only slightly. He’s comfortable with this instructor—she’s been with him when he’s gone into water, a pool, with his equipment the first times—but when he’s in a group of so many strangers about to step into the ocean it hardly matters. Tadashi wishes he could believe her.
Still he nods and forces a smile, albeit a quite wobbly one.
It seems to be convincing enough because the guide pats him on the shoulder when she’s let go of his BCD. “Ready, then?”
Ready to die? You bet, Tadashi thinks a bit hysterically, wondering how it’s possible it doesn’t look like he’s lost his mind.
Again, he nods even though his mind is screaming very colourful objections. He puts on his mask and with a trembling hand places the regulator in his mouth, taking a shaky breath.
Before he knows it he’s being tipped backwards, scream catching in his throat. He bites harshly into the mouthpiece as he hits the water, squeezing his eyes shut. Not even seconds later they fly open again as he breaks the surface without even having to move. Having studied so hard the gestures come as a reflex by now; his hand flies up to his head, making half a circle with his arm to inform the guide that he is okay.
When he locks eyes with her she grins, turning away to finish putting on her own equipment.
Tadashi takes the regulator out of his mouth, overly worried about wasting air, and adjusts his mask, hands still trembling. He’s floating perfectly well, but still he occasionally kicks out with his fins, nervous he’ll somehow manage to lose control of his buoyancy. He twists and turns carefully in the water to check so that all the straps are tightened properly, only actually lifting his gaze to look at the other people in the water once he feels that he is done. He’s probably checked his equipment about ten times by now.
Immediately his eyes lock with Tsukishima, who is staring openly at him with his mask on his forehead. He’s sporting a thoughtful frown this time, but his lip curled in something that resembles distaste. Tadashi feels himself shrink under the gaze, looking away as his stomach churns in shame.
He’s saved by a splash, and then the guide’s head showing up at the surface.
“We’re all okay?” she asks, and everyone except for one raises their hand with their fingers curled into an OK-sign. Tadashi is extremely aware of his own hand still trembling. The guide zeros in on the person not doing the OK-sign, eyes narrowing slightly in recognition, “Right, you, I’m gonna help you, just stay up here with me. Everyone else; I want you to start descending—slowly. Don’t forget to equalize often.”
She raises the same hose—the inflator hose—she’d used to inflate Tadashi’s BCD over her head and pats the deflate button with her finger, and Tadashi can’t do anything but follow instructions in his white-noised anxiety. In the corner of his eye he sees that Tsukishima has already pulled down his mask and is disappearing under water, and Tadashi scrambles to shove the mouthpiece into his mouth and hurriedly start deflating his BCD, not wanting to be that one guy who gets stuck at the surface.
The further he sinks the more his heart speeds up and a problem dawns on him quickly; he’s not breathing calmly. His breathing his nearly erratic, which stresses him out even more because he’s probably about five metres under water now and he shouldn’t be able to breathe, he’s underwater. In the midst of his near-panic he somehow manages to equalize frequently so that when he hits the bottom with his knees at least his ears aren’t bleeding from the pressure—the very dangerous pressure.
Oh God not breathing calmly this deep underwater is so dangerous, if the pressure changes and he’s not breathing like he should his lungs can suffer serious damage and if he doesn’t get himself in order this far down he might get decompression sickness and he will use up all of his air too quickly, and again he’s underwater and breathing should not be possible—
He can feel and hear himself breathing (read: hyperventilating) but it doesn’t feel like he’s actually getting air into his lungs; this can’t be real air but Tadashi has practised and he knows it is, he’s done it before but as he looks up at the surface from underneath it, finding he is so far down he cannot grasp that it is air seeping into his lungs. He feels as though he’s imaginary breathing but any moment he won’t be able to anymore and he will die, and he’s not floating and fuck how does he make himself float—
Someone is in front of him, bubbles are emerging from a regulator that isn’t his own in his line of sight and he can feel his clenched fists being pried away from his chest. The feeling of physical contact brings him back a bit to the present, and he manages to focus on the figure standing in front of him, also on their knees, with the same equipment Tadashi’s wearing and calmly staring at him. Tadashi struggles to make out who it is through his reverie, and once he recognises the blond curls and lean physique he nearly stops breathing altogether. But Tsukishima is gesturing for him to breathe, breathe slowly, calmly. Breathe with me.
Tadashi sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out in a just as sharp exhale, and Tsukishima keeps talking to him with calm, elegant gestures, and deliberately deep, slow breaths. Tadashi watches Tsukishima’s long, slender fingers making slow, circular gestures by his own mouthpiece. Breathe, breathe slowly, they say. The other hand is still holding onto one of Tadashi’s, which is slowly but steadily unclenching as Tadashi observes the rhythm of Tsukishima’s breaths and without having to think tries to match them with his own. His full attention is on Tsukishima, whose golden eyes are holding his gaze, making it impossible for Tadashi to look away even if he wanted to.
Tsukishima makes the breathe-gesture and the calm down-gesture alternately, always keeping some form of physical contact with Tadashi and never once looking away. He forces Tadashi to look into his calm exterior, forces him to feel his hands in Tsukishima’s, every gesture, every touch drilling it into Tadashi’s head that he’s not alone, they’re all down here breathing and there’s so much fucking air left, look at how many damn bars you have. Tadashi glances down at the meter attached to his tank of air Tsukishima is holding up. 200 bar worth of air. That’s emptied completely in about 45 minutes, no more, no less. Tadashi knows this, and he’s finally starting to remember.
After what feels like a long time, but probably only is about five minutes at most, Tadashi’s breathing has gone from erratic to calm, he’s more mentally present than he has been the entire day and fully aware of his surroundings—he’s mostly aware of Tsukishima, though. He’s on his knees, face-to-face with Tadashi, breathing together with him and squeezing his trembling hands with his own. Slender fingers are holding onto his, hands looking extra pale when curled around Tadashi’s.
Tsukishima must know by now that Tadashi is stable enough, but he’s still holding onto his hands.
There’s movement in the corner of Tadashi’s eyes and he turns his head just in time to catch the guide’s concerned look as she settles on the ocean floor. She eyes the two boys’ joined hands before raising her hand, asking if they’re okay. Tadashi knows that Tsukishima is still staring at Tadashi, making no move to let him go, but Tadashi feels so awkward he pulls his hands back, making the OK-sign at the guide and only then does Tsukishima do the same.
The guide nods, and then asks the rest of the divers at the bottom the same, to which they all answer that they’re okay.
During the dive—that turns out to be absolutely great—he can feel Tsukishima’s eyes on him more than once, and sometimes he catches him looking back at him, as if to see that he’s okay. He never asks, somehow probably understanding that even if things were not Tadashi wouldn’t want to say anything, so instead it’s like he takes matters in his own hands and checks on him every now and then. Tadashi is glad to follow Tsukishima around, as the blond currently is his biggest source of safety and he obviously knows what he’s doing, which is more than Tadashi dares to say about himself.
At one point Tadashi fails to pay attention to where he swims as his attention is turned to the beautiful lionfish he’s spotted, and manages to swim straight into Tsukishima, who turns around and glares at the freckled boy. Tadashi feels so mortified he tries to put some proper distance between them, but he doesn’t get far before something grabs ahold of his hand and holds him still. Looking down meets him with the sight of slender, pale fingers tightly clasped around his own and keeping him there. Tsukishima himself doesn’t even bat an eye, and is pointedly looking straight forward and not pausing in his swimming, consequently forcing Tadashi to swim next to him. And he doesn’t let him go even then.
Tadashi would probably sputter and stammer out incoherent words and flush bright red had he not been ten metres underwater with a faceful of equipment keeping his facial features from doing basically anything. But the way his own breath hitches does not go lost on him, as it about as loud to his own ears as if Darth Vader had paused mid-breath—and everyone would be able to hear that. He just hopes Tsukishima’s own breathing had been loud enough to drown out that embarrassing reaction.
At that moment Tadashi’s grateful for his faceful of mask and regulator because it’s a known fact Tsukishima is unable to see his face heating that way, much as Tadashi can’t feel it heat but he knows that it absolutely is, because he knows himself and he knows how much of an influence Tsukishima already is on him. The butterflies fluttering wildly in Tadashi’s stomach are demanding to be acknowledged for the remainder of their handholding, which lasts until the end of the dive.
“Th-thank you,” Tadashi stutters in his wavering English almost as soon as he and Tsukishima break the surface, fumbling to push up mask up, feeling heat creeping up his neck and cover his cheeks when he looks at Tsukishima. The blond himself spits out his regulator and pushes up his mask as he eyes Tadashi, the look telling Tadashi nothing of what Tsukishima is thinking.
“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima says suddenly and pauses, as though he’d been about to say something else but thought better of it. Tadashi straightens up instantly, eyes widening slightly. Tsukishima’s gaze flicks between Tadashi’s eyes with his eyebrows furrowed, “That is your name, right?”
Tadashi just kind of freezes when he realises the taller man is addressing him in Japanese, but quickly picks himself back up and nods.
“Ah, yes,” he replies with a nervous laugh, reaching up to scratch at his neck, “Yamaguchi Tadashi. You— You’re Japanese?”
Tsukishima gives Tadashi such a flat stare he doesn’t even have to say anything for Tadashi to realise what a stupid question that had been.
“I am,” the blond answers eventually with a frown, promptly looking in another direction.
“Oh.” Tadashi would be lying if he said he isn’t confused by Tsukishima’ disinterested, flat tone and brief replies, and were it not for how… how kind he’d been in the water Tadashi would be discouraged—however, he’s not that weak-spirited and instead he’s mostly curious and interested. Still nervous and insecure, yes, but not enough to just stop trying to approach the taller boy altogether. After all, Tsukishima is the only one speaking Japanese as well on this boat and, after the dive, the person Tadashi feels the most safe with, by far.
His eyes rest on the divers in front of them slowly making their way up the water. Tsukishima is regarding them too, admittedly with more annoyance in his features than Tadashi; eyebrows pulled down and nose wrinkled, jaw clenching as he clicks his tongue. He mutters irritably, “In this pace this water will have evaporated and we’ll have entered a new era by the time they’re finished.”
Tadashi’s eyebrows shoot up and he snorts out an unattractive laugh, quickly covering his mouth with his hand. He’d never have guessed what an absolute drama queen Tsukishima apparently is. Said blond in turn gives Tadashi a sidelong glance, one eyebrow twitching slightly but stays pulled down. He looks so disapproving that Tadashi can’t help but snort out another laugh into his hand. Tsukishima clicks his tongue again and turns his gaze back to the divers before them.
There’s a beat of silence before Tadashi decides to take advantage of the temporary wave of confidence and strike up proper conversation.
“What’s your name?” he blurts and again Tsukishima eyes him out of the corner of his eye.
“You know my name,” he says, and Yamaguchi laughs nervously again, making a shrugging gesture.
“Well, yes, but not your— not your full name.”
Tsukishima lets out something that resembles a sigh through his nose, reaching up his hand to his face, looking like he’d wanted to adjust glasses that aren’t there. He ends up prodding at the mask on his forehead that had needed no adjusting. It’s the closest thing to awkward Tadashi has seen Tsukishima thus far.
“Tsukishima Kei,” he mutters and there’s a pause where he seems to think. Apparently he just remembered Tadashi’s earlier ‘thank you’, because he adds, “Don’t thank me.”
Tadashi swallows, a breathless laugh escaping again, no less nervous this time. “S-sorry Tsukki— ah, Tsukishima. Sorry.” Tadashi stares down at the water with warm cheeks, so thoroughly embarrassed from having stumbled over his words so badly he’d accidentally called the blond Tsukki. He swallows down a following, garbled apology that had been about to tumble past his lips, getting the feeling Tsukishima wouldn’t appreciate another one. The blond’s gaze is boring into his temple.
After a moment’s silence he merely huffs, muttering, “Whatever.”
Their conversation—if you can call it that—ends there, because next in line to exit the water is Tadashi, and he fumbles clumsily with his fins under the water, failing miserably to get them off quick enough. Apparently Tsukishima agrees, because after a short while there’s an impatient huff behind him and then Tsukishima sinks under the water, grabbing Tadashi’s fins and helping him get them off. Tadashi is surprised—not by the gesture, since Tsukishima’s general patience with people seems to be so thin that him making things go faster by himself is only to be expected—but at how gentle he is when he pries the fins off Tadashi’s feet.
Unfortunately Tadashi is not capable of taking it all in stride when Tsukishima emerges from the water and glares at him; if his cheeks were hot before they’re burning now and he all but splutters out a “Thanks, Tsukk— Tsukishima,” before hurrying up the ladder, knuckles white from clenching the fins in his fists.
He’s frustrated to realise his stomach is fluttering wildly and his knees feel like they’re about to give underneath him, and not only because of his equipment, weights and wetsuit full of water.
Out of fear of annoying the blond—and maybe because it took him a while to fight down the angry blush—Tadashi has tried to keep safe distance for a while, however, when lunch time arrives he quietly sidles up with Tsukishima. Lunch means standing among a lot of people in line for food, and Tadashi would honestly rather do that around someone at least a wee bit familiar. Not that Tadashi would simply call Tsukishima a wee bit familiar after having admired the tall blond for hours, both above and under water.
Tsukishima doesn’t seem to notice him and proceeds with staring forward with an unaltered, bored expression that Tadashi is learning is probably how his face normally looks, eyes not focusing on anything in particular. He seems to intentionally avoid staring straight at people. His headphones are currently placed around his neck and he’s put on a loose, white t-shirt which is damp at the bottom from brushing against his swim trunks.
Tadashi had also slipped on a t-shirt before he’d even dried off completely, not wanting to walk around shirtless for any longer than necessary. They and one more are the only ones having put on any clothes in between exiting the water and grabbing lunch.
Tadashi has only heard Tsukishima speak English in short, few sentences, including now, when the boat’s staff asks what he would like to drink, but every time Tadashi is stunned at how smoothly the words roll off Tsukishima’s tongue. It sounds like it could be his native language. Tadashi has taken a liking to Tsukishima’s voice in general, but when he speaks so smoothly in English it makes Tadashi’s mouth go a little dry.
Looking away from having stared at Tsukishima with such open admiration, Tadashi’s eyes land on the food. He finds that he isn’t feeling too hungry at the moment, but he does feel very tired which is not very weird considering his shenanigans before Tsukishima helped him get himself in order, so he elects to grab himself some lunch anyway. There is one more dive before the day is over, after all.
As they grab food Tsukishima still doesn’t acknowledge Tadashi’s presence, and when Tadashi hesitantly takes a seat next to Tsukishima on the second floor all the blond does is shoot him a sidelong glance. It’s not until they’ve started eating that Tadashi dares opening his mouth to speak.
“How does it work, diving without glasses?” he asks, poking at his food absently as he glances up at the blond. “Do you wear, uh… Contact lenses?”
Tsukishima levels him with such a long, blank look Tadashi starts to writhe under the gaze, preparing to just tell him nevermind and throw himself off the boat. But then Tsukishima opens his mouth to answer.
“Getting saltwater in my eyes whilst wearing contacts is not only bad but also painful. I’d prefer not to take my chances even if I’m wearing a mask.”
Tadashi blinks, then reaches up to rub at his neck nervously. “A-ah. Right.” He’s an idiot.
“However, there are prescription masks you can get,” Tsukishima adds, looking back down at his food and pushing his glasses up the ridge of his nose. “That’s what I have.”
“Oh,” is all that leaves Tadashi’s mouth, and he swallows, feeling like hitting himself in the face.
There’s a quiet moment in which Tadashi figures that their conversation is over and feels disappointment washing over him. But then Tsukishima pauses in his eating and looks up, frowning at the freckled boy.
“If you actually can dive—not watching where you’re swimming aside,” he says, and Tadashi feels himself flush at the jab, knowing the blond’s hinting at when Tadashi had crashed into him, “then why did you freak out?”
“O-oh, uh,” Tadashi so eloquently starts, cheeks ablaze, and Tsukishima raises a judging eyebrow. Tadashi looks away and continues in a mumble, “I’m just— I-I get nervous, I guess. It’s just a thing… that I do.”
“Tch. That’s stupid,” Tsukishima scoffs, the edge of his tone almost making Tadashi wince, and he feels his face fall and his stomach dropping. “What a waste of energy.” Tadashi knows his face is now speaking volumes of his bewilderment, but Tsukishima continues as if he doesn’t notice. “Did you see yourself dying down there?”
Tadashi shakes his head hesitantly, unsure of what Tsukishima is getting at, “No…?”
“No,” Tsukishima agrees. “What with your diving skills, your anxiety is completely wasted here.”
Diving skills? “I-I freaked out first thing when I got in the water,” Tadashi points out weakly.
“It was your first time diving,” Tsukishima reasons, then raises an eyebrow, “right?”
Tadashi nods solemnly, throat feeling thick.
Tsukishima shrugs. “Although I won’t argue against it being rather pathetic, the important thing is you managed to calm down.”
Tadashi can’t actually help but snort at Tsukishima’s pure bluntness, strangely enough not taking offense at the insult. “Uh, yeah, because you helped me.”
“Tch.” Tsukishima scowls down at his plate and Tadashi bites his lip to keep from smiling. “You would have slowed us down and cut down our diving time if I hadn’t.”
Tadashi just shrugs, suddenly feeling much lighter. “Still, thanks, Tsukki—uh—”
“What is up with you and nicknames?” Tsukishima glares, eyes narrowing.
“Nothing, really! But Ts-Tsukishima is pretty long.” Tadashi takes a breath and decides to throw caution into the wind, feeling bold, “Tsukki is, um. Cute, though. It suits you.” There’s a tense pause in which Tadashi starts to fidget and regret his entire existence; he opens his mouth to apologise and laugh it off but Tsukishima only clicks his tongue again.
“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he says gruffly, clicking his tongue again as he turns away, his face contorted into a scowl, but the way his ears turn red betraying him. He lifts his headphones to his ears and puts his now empty plate away. “And finish your lunch. I am not going to help again you if you pass out down there.”
Tadashi is unprepared for, and thus cannot stifle, the quiet giggle that bubbles up inside him; suddenly he feels so much lighter and giddy. The warm, fuzzy feelings are pulling his features into a wide smile, and as he looks down to resume eating he mumbles, “Sure, Tsukki.”
“Do you dive with nitrox?”
Tsukishima stirs as he’s laying on his back on the bench, arm thrown over his face to shield from the sun. “Yeah.”
Tadashi picks at his nails, sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest and back against said bench Tsukishima is resting on. His head is resting on Tsukishima’s knee, which, to Tadashi’s surprise, the blond hadn’t pulled away when Tadashi had leaned backwards.
It’s been a little less than 30 minutes since they finished their lunch and the boat is still in place. They have another destination to get to from which they will dive the second and last dive of the day, but it’s a while until then. Tadashi can’t say he’s disappointed; this leaves him more time to spend with Tsukki.
Tadashi looks up at the blond and takes a second to admire the small patch of pale skin that’s on display under the hem of his t-shirt.
He asks, “For how long have you been diving?”
“About three years.”
“Whoa, that’s so cool! Do you go to other countries often to dive?”
“Not that often. I don’t mind diving in Japan.”
“Mm, so you live in Japan then?”
Tsukishima peeks at him from under his arm. “I do.” He lowers his arm again and hides his face, but Tadashi catches a glimpse of a smirk pulling at the blond’s lips. “Your English is so horrible I am just going to assume you do too.”
Tadashi flushes and rubs the back of his head sheepishly; a nervous habit he seems to have developed only during this trip since he started talking with Tsukishima.
“Mean, Tsukki,” he pouts and the blond snorts in reply.
“Mean would be not informing you that your arms, neck and face are growing redder and just let you acquire a nasty burn.”
“Wha— Tsukki!”
“What? I’m telling you now,” Tsukishima says noncommittally, lazily lifting his arm again and looking at Tadashi’s accusatory face with unimpressed, half-lidded eyes.
Tadashi gives up on trying to glare at the blond and heaves a defeated sigh. He reaches for his bag and starts rummaging through the contents, whining about how much he’s going to suffer tomorrow. It takes him three minutes of rummaging until he concludes that he’s forgotten his sunblock.
“Of course.” He pulls at the back of his t-shirt, trying to pull it up enough to protect his poor neck and then noticing the state of his arms. He gives another whine and hides his face in his knees, praying to no one in particular that it might not get any worse.
He idly acknowledges a sigh behind him and the rustle of fabric as Tsukishima shifts, presumably sitting up. There’s an annoyed huff and a grumble of, “What a pain.” which makes Tadashi burrow deeper into his knees.
Tadashi positively yelps when he feels cool fingers flutter across the skin of his neck, making him shiver, but he doesn’t have the time to bat the hand away before there’s moisture being rubbed into his skin. He freezes then, breath catching in his throat.
Tsukishima continues to rub the thick liquid onto Tadashi’s skin, making sure not to miss a spot by going over the same places multiple times. He spreads it over his neck, the top of his back, the parts of his shoulders his t-shirt allows him to reach.
“… Tsukki?” Tadashi tentatively questions, not daring to turn around or move, afraid the soft touch will disappear.
“What?” Tsukishima answers, unperturbed; sounding just as bored as he had minutes before, as though he isn’t willingly rubbing sunblock onto Tadashi’s neck at this very moment.
If Tadashi hadn’t been focusing all of his energy on restraining himself he’d be a shivering mess by now—not only does he have a super sensitive neck, but he seems to be extra sensitive to Tsukishima’s touch particularly.
He bites back a whimper when Tsukishima’s fingers faintly graze his hairline.
“Nothing!” he rasps, knowing his high-pitched voice is making it clear as day that he’s lying.
He can feel Tsukishima’s hard stare at the back of his head. “Sure. Turn around.”
Tadashi takes a deep, shaky breath and turns around, repositioning himself so that he’s sitting cross legged in front of Tsukishima, still on the floor. Looking up and meeting the blond’s gaze finds the tall boy with narrowed eyes and a stare that roams over Tadashi’s face. He can almost see the gears twisting and turning in the blond’s head and Tadashi gets increasingly more flustered the longer he’s under the tall boy’s observant gaze. His heartbeat is loud in his ears and the butterflies in his stomach are going wild.
Tadashi knows Tsukishima must know of his undeniable attraction by now, it must be written all over his sunburnt face. Still, he doesn’t make a move to look away despite the urge to do so, steeling himself. After what feels like minutes the blond pushes at his glasses and leans back a bit, still looking frustratingly expressionless.
Tadashi barely has the time to blink before the fingers—those pretty, slender fingers—are back; this time they’re ghosting across his red cheeks, hot from sun and the unceremonious blush. Tadashi’s eyes flutter closed when the fingers start spreading sunblock over them, right underneath his eyes. They’re making sure to get the moisture properly spread, and yet they’re surprisingly gentle as they do.
Tadashi cracks an eye open and glances at Tsukishima who has leaned in close again, looking concentrated but also… something else. It looks almost… fond?
Tadashi gulps.
“... I-I could just do it myself, y-you know.” He smiles nervously, feeling as though his heart is about to beat out of his chest.
Tsukishima scowls. “I don’t want to give you my sunscreen.”
“… But Tsukki, you’re giving it to me right now.”
There’s a beat of silence and Tadashi proudly observes Tsukishima’s ears turning pink. He’s obviously done with spreading the sunscreen over Tadashi’s face, and yet his fingers linger. Tadashi would believe he’d imagined the caress of Tsukishima’s thumb across his cheek and his fingers grazing his jaw before disappearing if he hadn’t been so hyperaware of every little movement the blond makes. He nearly misses when the blond’s eyes flicker down to Tadashi’s lips before he leans back. He straightens and scowls even harder, but the spray of pink across his cheeks makes him look adorable rather than intimidating.
Tadashi doesn’t even try to hold back on the toothy, happy grin that pulls at his lips. Tsukishima growls.
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”
The next dive goes smoothly; Tadashi stays calm from start to finish. He’s proud of it, even though he’s about 99% sure Tsukishima plays a big part in his success.
After five minutes of swimming next to Tsukishima, Tadashi having glanced at him every few seconds, he’d been feeling bold. He’d reached over tentatively and his fingers had brushed Tsukishima’s. It’s not weird; handholding during diving with your buddy is encouraged. It’s good to always know where your buddy is. However, Tsukishima had turned his head and stared at Tadashi, in that blank way that makes Tadashi squirm. Yet again, he’d almost retracted his fingers when Tsukishima suddenly kicked into action, taking his hand but not stopping there; he’d readjusted their hands and laced their fingers together. Like proper, couple handholding.
Tadashi had stared at their hands as Tsukishima had kept on swimming calmly, looking forward. His hold on Tadashi’s hand was loose, but he’d given the freckled boy’s hand a light squeeze which had reminded Tadashi where he was and that he actually needed to breathe to stay conscious. Involuntarily he’d started grinning widely, consequently ending up with a mouthful of saltwater flowing past his lips, leaving him spluttering and coughing into his mouthpiece and Tsukishima staring at him as though he’s disgusted to even know him. His throat had hurt and his eyes had been brimming with tears, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to care when Tsukishima’s fingers unwaveringly stayed interlinked with his.
Tsukishima’s hair is damp, and Tadashi wishes he could run his hands through it.
They’re in the same respective position as before, but this time Tadashi is resting his chin on the seat next to Tsukishima’s body, sprawled out on the soft seat. He can’t really say that he’s discreetly admiring anymore, but the blond seems very disinterested in what Tadashi does so it’s not like he has to be very discreet.
“What level of diver are you?” he drawls, picking at a thread from his shirt.
Tsukishima doesn’t even shift. “Advanced,” he mumbles from under his arm.
“Wow.”
“It’s not really that impressive,” Tsukishima mutters. “I have been actively diving for three years.”
“I think it’s impressive,” Tadashi mumbles, registering that he’s actually a bit jealous.
Tsukishima seems to catch this as well, because he lifts his arm to glance at the freckled boy.
“Give me your number and I can text you the locations of PADI centers and potential clubs. It’s really not that hard to increase your level,” he suggests lazily, sounding like he wouldn’t care either way, but Tadashi’s sure Tsukishima wouldn’t even suggest such a thing if that were true.
He blinks at the blond having suddenly materialised a cellphone that he’s currently tapping on. He turns to Tadashi expectantly, one eyebrow twitching upward. “Well?”
“A-ah, yes of course,” Tadashi stammers, then clumsily rambles out his number to the blond who smoothly seems to catch all of it since he’s requesting no repetition.
Tadashi fishes out his own cellphone from his bag, barely even having time to unlock it before Tsukishima plucks it out of his hands. “H-hey!”
The blond doesn’t have it for long before he’s handing it back, then throws his arm back over his eyes, saying nothing.
Checking his contact list, Tadashi finds that a new contact has been added to it. He smiles, tapping the contact to edit it, and changing the name from ‘Tsukishima’ to ‘Tsukki’. He doesn’t point out how it was unnecessary to give Tadashi Tsukishima’s number if Tsukishima’s only going to text him some information.
I’ve just exchanged numbers with the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever met. That I only just met today and I already have it bad for him...
Tadashi looks up and finds Tsukishima lying on his side watching him, but not with his usual blank stare; his expression is strangely open this time. He’s just… looking at Tadashi, meeting his gaze full on and it’s only then that Tadashi realises how close they are. If Tadashi were to move his face just a few inches they would be breathing the same air.
Tadashi swallows when the eye contact isn’t broken by either of them even after seconds, the tension between them growing thicker. The sparks seem to be growing in both quantity and quality and surely Tadashi can’t have been imagining and misreading all of this? He may be thick and insecure, but this feels like it’s obvious, even to him.
After moments of just staring at each other, Tadashi finds that he’s unconsciously been leaning closer. He sucks in a breath through his nose at the realisation, heart thundering in his chest but he’s not moving back. When Tsukishima makes no move to put distance between them, and frankly doesn’t even look like he wants to, Tadashi takes a deep breath and closes the distance between them.
The following moment finds him with eyes tightly closed, head tilted to match Tsukishima’s lying position and lips brushing the blond’s hesitantly. That’s all it is at first; a mere brush, a slight touch during which none of them dares moving. The next second both of them are kicked into action; Tadashi pressing his lips harder against Tsukishima’s, who is tilting his head so that Tadashi won’t have to strain his neck and eagerly presses back. Tadashi lets out the breath he’d been holding in a rush, reaching up to finally, finally thread his fingers through Tsukishima’s soft, oh so soft curls.
Tsukishima responds by sliding his hand to the freckled boy’s neck, making him shiver, pulling him closer. Their lips are properly moving together now, sometimes pulling apart only to slot together again a moment later. It’s not rushed or insistent; the movement of their lips is slow, testing, like they’re getting used to each other.
Tsukishima sucks Tadashi’s lower lip into his mouth in order to tug at it with his teeth, making Tadashi suck in a sharp breath at the sensation and momentarily tighten his grip on the blond’s hair. Tsukishima hums appreciatively and it takes Tadashi only a few moments before he musters up enough courage to do the same thing back, and Tsukishima actually groans, albeit very quietly.
Tsukishima is the one to pull back eventually, huffing a breathless laugh and giving a self-satisfied smirk. He flicks his eyes from Tadashi’s face to look at something behind him.
“Huh. Would you look at that. People are staring.”
Tadashi gapes and then clamps his mouth shut, feeling like his cheeks have been set on fire. He pointedly does not look around them because, unlike Tsukki, he’s not really enjoying the attention of the others around them, nor does he enjoy provoking strangers which Tsukishima seems to love, seeing as he is raising a challenging eyebrow and smirking at someone behind Tadashi right now.
The freckled boy himself had completely forgotten they were in public. The blond, however, seems to find that detail immensely amusing as his smirk only widens at the distressed look on Tadashi’s face.
Not really valuing his dignity anymore, Tadashi buries his hands in his face and hunches over, whining, “Tsukkiiiiiii…”
Tsukishima only slides his hand up to tug playfully at that ungodly strand of hair on top of Tadashi’s head and laughs.