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Tadashi never really wondered why Tsukki always wore his hoodies during practice or long sleeved shirts underneath the volleyball uniform during games. He always assumed it was because the blond got cold easily; he’d had that problem ever since they were kids. Sure, he found it a bit strange when the blond refused to remove any additional, unneeded clothing even as he was sweating and panting after an hour worth of practicing, but he’d never really questioned it. He’d learned not to pry with Tsukki. The blond always had his reasons.
However, when their teammates one day cautiously asked Tadashi about it, he’d been so floored by the unexpected question he’d never even asked himself that he’d been unable to give a proper response at first. He’d had no certain answer to their question and he found it bothered him more than it should.
He’d scratched the back of his head uncertainly and blinked, his eyes flitting over to the blond on the other side of the gym drinking from his water bottle. He looked away quickly before the blond could see him staring, not wanting him to catch Tadashi pondering him so openly.
“I-I don’t exactly know, actually…“ the brunet had said hesitantly, a crease forming between his eyebrows briefly before it disappeared again. “But Tsukki has always been sensitive to cold. I suppose it’s just that.” Tadashi flashed a smile as his stomach churned uncomfortably, everyone seeming to shrug and accept it. Everyone except for Sugawara, whose eyes lingered on the freckled boy. They wore a thoughtful and concerned look on their face as they watched him for about two more seconds before they, too, focussed their attention elsewhere. Tadashi had no idea what that look had meant.
Since that day the thought had crossed Tadashi’s mind more often than not and one time he’d casually asked his friend about it. Tsukki had looked annoyed and asked why he wanted to know to which Tadashi had been unable to give a response but shrug his shoulders and say, “No reason!” Tsukki had only made a disbelieving humming noise and looked forward again, bored expression back in place, and Tadashi figured the conversation was rendered over with that.
After that he started unconsciously watching Tsukki more closely during practice. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for or hoping to find, but still he was searching for something, anything that could explain what Tsukki seemed unwilling to talk about or even acknowledge. While everyone on the team seemed to think it was weird and simply masochistic to wear such layers of clothing during volleyball, Tsukki seemed to think it was completely natural and never bothered to explain himself if someone mentioned it, either to his face or to someone else.
Tadashi wanted, so badly, to not think about what truly was not his business all the time. He wished he could keep on with this lifestyle of “not prying in Tsukki’s life”, but there was an odd feeling in his belly every time he was around his friend, and he found that he couldn’t stop observing, previous promise be damned.
It was a week after he’d started looking for an explanation that he saw it; Tsukki jumping with Azumane-senpai to block Tanaka’s spike and succeeding, the ball hitting Tsukki’s forearms and getting slammed to the ground. However, that wasn’t what caught Tadashi’s attention about the impressive-as-always block—it was the way Tsukki gritted his teeth and his face scrunched up in pain, something that was foreign for Tadashi to see on the blond’s face, but he did recognise it.
The expression was present for no more than a second, but it was enough for Tadashi. His eyes widened and he dropped the ball with which he was supposed to practice serves. He hurried after Tsukki as the blond walked over to his water bottle. “Tsukki! Are you okay?”
Tsukki turned around to face the brunet and frowned at him as though he had no idea what he was talking about. “Yes? … I’m a middle blocker, Yamaguchi, I’m supposed to block the balls idiot spikers throw at me.” From across the court Tanaka shouted, “Hey! I heard that, four-eyes!” which Tsukki smoothly ignored, pushing his somewhat foggy glasses up the bridge of his nose. He raised an eyebrow as he continued, “Are you going to check if I’m okay every time I manage to do that?” His tone was near withering, one that had never been directed at Tadashi before.
The brunet’s eyes widened fractionally.
“Uh, n-no, you just— You looked like you were in pain…“ he mumbled, rubbing distractedly at his neck. “You’re not?”
Tsukki’s gaze seemed to harden. “No,” he answered curtly and put his bottle down. Without another word he turned and walked away from the brunet.
Tadashi couldn’t remember a time he ever felt this lost.
Tadashi didn’t try to approach the blond again during that afternoon’s practice, knowing better than to push his luck.
As usual they were last to the club room afterwards, Sugawara telling them to take their time because they’d be back in a while to lock up. Apparently they had an errand to run, finding a teacher or something; Tadashi hadn’t been listening particularly well.
In any case, Tsukki and him were currently alone in the club room, which wasn’t an unusual thing by a long shot, but the undeniable tension between them was certainly more palpable when there was no one else around.
Tadashi started pulling off his t-shirt when he discreetly glanced to the side, freezing when his eyes zeroed in on Tsukki’s arms reaching into his bag, where liquid that resembled blood seemed to have seeped through the fabric of his sleeves.
“T-Tsukki! You’re bleeding!”
Tsukki retracted his arms to his sides and glared at Tadashi. “No, I’m not.”
Tadashi didn’t even consider his friend’s intimidating stares or to act accordingly, he was only aware of the worry rising in his chest which only multiplied with Tsukki’s deadpanned denial.
“Y-you are! You’re hurt, Tsukki!”
“No, I’m not, Yamaguchi,” Tsukki hissed and for once it did not have the intended effect on the brunet. Quite the contrary; the more Tsukki denied it the more desperate Tadashi became to find out what the hell was going on and help his friend.
He grabbed at his friend’s arms pressed tightly to his sides, hiding the splotches of blood. “Yes, I saw it, Tsukki—” His fingers curled around the blond’s wrist and tugged at it.
“Yamaguchi—!”
“—why are you denying it? What happen— Oh.” Tadashi stared down at the exposed arm he had in a tight grip, sleeve rucked up and revealing the source of the blood he’d seen. His ears were ringing and his heart was slamming against his ribcage while his guts seemed to tie knots on themselves. Something in the back of his mind questioned why Tsukki had stopped putting up any resistance.
“Ts-Tsukki… “ Tadashi whispered shakily, feeling like he could cry as his eyes roamed the expanse of skin the rolled up sleeve revealed. He couldn’t describe it as anything other than marred; there were scars, old and new, thick and thin, littering the blond’s forearms along with fresh, fairly deep cuts and fading bruises. They spread all the way up under the rest of the sleeve, and presumably they didn’t stop there. These were all self-inflicted?
The muscles moved and tensed under Tadashi’s hold as Tsukki clenched his fist which shook the brunet out of his shock slightly. He focussed on the fresh cuts which were the ones open and bleeding and in need of some sort of care. He frowned, upset that the blond hadn’t wrapped it with gauze or something at least during practice. The skin around the cuts were an angry red.
“... They’re irritated,” he muttered, ignoring the way his hand had started to shake. “You— You have to take care of them if you’re gonna block. It’s no wonder they started bleeding...” He swallowed, turning around and tugging Tsukki along, ushering him toward a chair. The blond was surprisingly quiet and compliant, sitting down on the chair without complaint. Tadashi had yet to look at his face.
The freckled boy found the first-aid kit they had in the club room and sat himself down on another chair in front of Tsukki. “They might get infected if you don’t take care of them, Tsukki.”
An exhale was heard from the blond’s direction. “I know.” There was absolutely no bite to his voice anymore—he just sounded tired. Tadashi had never heard him like that before. It wasn’t the kind of tired he was in the mornings when Tadashi stayed the night and woke him up for morning practice, when he growled and his voice was gravelly in a strangely attractive way. No, this tired seemed to go deeper than that, his voice emerging from his throat as raw and empty, something Tadashi wanted to put back and never hear again because it spoke volumes of things present that he had not known about. It squeezed painfully at his heart and he didn’t want it to be real.
But. It was real and somehow the sound of Tsukki’s voice was a wake-up call for Tadashi. That voice born from pure exhaustion melted away the remaining shock and made the gravity of the situation dawn on him in a way the sight of pale, scarred arms could not.
The empty voice somehow coming from his friend made Tadashi realise that Tsukki was suffering and he’d had no idea. But he should have. And it’s not even to his own credit that he was here now, digging up antiseptic and trying to find some sort of gauze or compressor in the first-aid kit so he could tend to Tsukki’s wounds—it was only because of a slip Tsukki made, a mistake from the blond’s point of view, probably.
Tadashi forced himself to keep his composure even with these thoughts roaming around in his head, making him clench and unclench his jaws alternately.
When he’d located the antiseptic and some gauze he prompted Tsukki to give him his arm again with a low, “Here.”
Again, the blond did as prompted without any complaints and Tadashi set to work with cleaning the open wounds with cotton balls soaked in antiseptic. Not a sound came from Tsukki and Tadashi was half distracted, still thinking about how he was not supposed to know, but he should have been able to figure something out without Tsukki being sloppy one time. He’d been so blind that he probably wouldn’t even have noticed it if their teammates hadn’t brought up the constant sweaters like they had.
But Tadashi should have known. He should have known and he should have supported Tsukki, helped him with what he could. He’s Tsukki’s best friend, the only person Tsukki even agreed to call a friend at all. He should have been able to tell something was off, he should have thought twice about the constant long sleeved shirts in practice, he should have been able to see Tsukki was suffering. They’re around each other all the time, he should’ve—
“Don’t.” Tadashi, thrown off of his train of thought by Tsukki’s sharp tone breaking the silence, looked up to find him glaring at him, looking angry. He paused in his cleaning.
“H-huh?”
“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this or I’ll stop talking to you.”
Watching the blond, Tadashi could tell the blond was beyond uncomfortable simply by his posture; his tense shoulders, hunched back, clenched fists and stern look. And Tadashi knew Tsukki would be fully able to just stand up and leave if it got worse.
Tadashi swallowed. “I wasn’t—”
“You were thinking that as my friend, my only friend, it’s your responsibility to know when something’s going on with me, right?” Tsukki narrowed his eyes at Tadashi, clearly not waiting for an answer. “You think you fucked up because you didn’t know and you believe you should have known, so you’re upset you couldn’t be there for me and help, aren’t you?”
Tadashi closed his mouth around a dying protest, lowering his eyes to Tsukki’s arm in his hands. As usual, Tsukki was spot on.
Tsukki scoffed, severely unimpressed. “Thought so.”
“I’m sorry, Tsukki.”
Tsukki sighed and when Tadashi looked up he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, if I wanted you to have known you would have. You’re not responsible for me or my well-being, so stop giving yourself crap because it’s not your damn fault. I just happen to be exceptional at not letting anyone know, so cut it out already.”
It was absolutely ridiculous that Tsukki was the one keeping his composure and having to comfort and reassure Tadashi even in this situation. It made Tadashi feel ashamed. But he nodded; Tsukki had valid points. After all, it’s most likely Tsukki’s well-being had absolutely nothing to do with him.
After that Tadashi resumed dabbing Tsukki’s wounds with the soaked cotton balls and silence fell over them once again.
Tadashi coaxed Tsukki into giving him his other arm so he could look him over. It seemed the other arm had been the one to take the worst of the hit but Tadashi decided to clean the less irritated one too.
When he deemed himself done with both he picked up the gauze and dared to ask, “So why didn’t you tell me?”
Tsukki scoffed, a harsh sound that made Tadashi flinch. “What, and let this happen?” He gestured half-heartedly with his hand to assert the situation at hand, “No thanks.”
Tadashi swallowed and frowned, not quite understanding what Tsukki meant. He kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing, gingerly wrapping gauze around Tsukki’s arm. “What do you mean?”
Tadashi could feel the blond’s stare, and could imagine the way his lips curled in that scornfully derisive way it so often did.
“I mean,” Tsukki said, sounding the way he always did every time he was about to put someone down, “tell you and then end up in this pathetic situation? Where you sit here and think you have to take care of me—”
“That’s not—”
“You always looked up to me, didn’t you? Thought of me as strong and like nothing could get to me. How’s it feel now when you’ve found out the truth and I’m actually none of those things, huh? How does it feel to see me as weak?”
Tadashi’s hands started to shake and he’d long since stopped trying to wrap Tsukki’s forearms. “Tsukki…”
Tsukki laughed, an ugly and withering thing that felt like a slap across Tadashi’s face. It sounded much like, you’re pathetic.
“Now you won’t even look at me,” he snorted and Tadashi’s eyes widened in horrified realisation that his friend was right, and he snapped his head up. The look the blond levelled him with was half-lidded and silently angry. “And you ask me why I never told you. You’ve put me on a pedestal all this time, is there any question of why I lied? … Tch. Isn’t it pathetic—”
Tadashi stood up so suddenly his chair fell to the floor and it seemed to stun Tsukki into silence.
“How am I supposed to not blame myself when you say those things?!” he yelled, his high-pitched, hurt tone bouncing off the walls.
His fists were clenched and he was breathing heavily, bottom lip quivering as he met Tsukki’s wide-eyed, shocked stare head on. Silence stretched over them, Tadashi watching as the gears twisted and turned behind Tsukki’s eyes. The anger had melted away, replaced by something resembling guilt and regret. During any other time, Tadashi would have been taken aback by the foreign emotions present on his friend’s face—the amount of times he’s seen them there he could count on one hand—but now he wasn’t. There wasn’t any room for shock.
“... You’re right. I’m— I didn’t… mean that. I’m sorry.” Tsukki took a shaky breath, lowering his gaze, shorts bunching up in his fists as he clenched them. He added in a quiet murmur, “I’m not angry at you.”
Tadashi took a couple of deep breath to cease his panting and calm down a notch. Then he pulled the fallen chair up again and sat down, eyes staying on his friend’s face this time.
“Who are you angry at, Tsukki?”
Tsukki frowned, but it wasn’t angry, and it wasn’t directed at Tadashi. After some silence he muttered, “Myself, mostly.”
Tadashi nodded slowly, not asking Tsukki to elaborate. After all, he wasn’t surprised; he understood, and Tsukki knew that. Tadashi understood more than anyone else around Tsukki what it’s like to be angry with yourself and hate yourself. As far as Tadashi was concerned, Tsukki had been angry with himself since he’d found out his brother had lied to him for all those months about volleyball.
Tsukki had always always tensed up when something that resembled idolisation had been directed at him, been grumpy about receiving compliments and encouraging words that he once upon a time gave his brother too, which he believed was what drove Akiteru to lie to him for all that time. Tadashi had made a vow to not stop telling his best friend how great he was even then—but it had never been idolisation. Hearing Tsukki calling it exactly that had been like a punch in the gut for him, even though he hadn’t meant it. He’d known it would hurt Tadashi to word it like that, hence why he did it. He hadn’t seemed to be aware of his own intentions himself, not until Tadashi had… reminded him.
And Tadashi also understood better than anyone how Tsukki worked, which is why he couldn’t stay angry at the blond after his venomous words, because he understood where they had come from. It was getting clear to Tadashi what Tsukki’s coping mechanisms involved.
Tadashi gently took the blond’s hands again to finish wrapping the gauze, making a promise to himself as he did to help his friend.
Once he was finished he leaned back in his chair and looked up to meet Tsukki’s eyes, trying to keep it steady. “I’m… not going to leave, Tsukki,” he promised, hearing his voice crack somewhere in the middle but stubbornly kept going, “And I don’t think of you as anything less now because I know of this. I-I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. And if there’s something I can do, I’m— I’ll be here.”
Tsukishima’s gaze drifted to the side, expression blank. “I’m absolutely fine, Tadashi.”
A week later, Tuesday night found Tadashi on the floor in the dark of his bedroom with a trembling Tsukki in his arms. The dark of the room surrounded them but it was not enough to hide Tsukki’s shaking form or the way his blunt nails dug into the marred skin of his arms, undoubtedly causing himself pain. He’s probably unaware he’s even doing it, Tadashi thought as he reached around the blond to pry his hands off of his arms, Tsukki’s muscles going slack in the process, not putting up any resistance.
A breathless sob that completely shattered Tadashi’s heart spilled past the blond’s lips as Tadashi laced their fingers together, hoping it would still the trembling of his own hands too. Tsukki finally seemed to stop struggling to try and get a hold of himself and let go somewhat, sagging in Tadashi’s arms and letting out a sharp, wet breath.
Tadashi held on tighter to his friend, knowing he needed to be strong for Tsukki now, needed to stay composed and appear stable. In any other situation it was always Tsukki being the composed one, whether it was while Tadashi himself broke down after another bullying session or during games or in any situation at all. It was important that Tadashi took on that role now that Tsukki couldn’t. Tadashi had to, but more than anything he wanted to, be strong for Tsukki. He needed him.
Moving closer to Tsukki on the floor, making his presence clear by pressing his chest to his friend’s back and arms wound more tightly around him, Tadashi moved his face to his neck, faintly touching his skin with just a light press of his lips. When Tsukki in response made a thick noise at the back of his throat and sniffled, Tadashi brushed his thumb over the skin of his friend’s hand and held onto him more tightly.
He whispered, “It’s okay, Kei. Just breathe. It’s okay.”
He had to remind himself to breathe too.
At Tadashi’s soft words Tsukki finally seemed to let go completely. He growled, low in his throat, a sound that failed to sound intimidating this time. This time, it was just broken and it had Tadashi burying his face in his friend’s shoulder as he squeezed his hand. Tsukki growled again and hunched over, not away from Tadashi but more like into him, pressing back and disentangling their fingers to press his palms over his eyes. His full-body tremors had turned into convulsions caused by the hiccups and frequent sobs tumbling over his lips.
Tadashi didn’t even get time to think about how shocking this whole situation was for him; how unusual it was that Tadashi was the one holding Tsukki. Tadashi had never seen Tsukki like this before. Before a week ago he never would of thought moments like these even existed for for the blond.
After their roller-coaster of an exchange a week earlier nothing more had been mentioned of the topic from Tsukki, and Tadashi knew he couldn’t tell Tsukki more than he’d already said. He also knew that he couldn’t make Tsukki do anything he didn’t want to, so despite the disappointment—but not surprise—at his helping hand not having been taken he hadn’t tried saying anything about it. He’d been convinced they would never speak of it again, in fact, when he’d opened his front door that evening to find a tousled Tsukki at his doorstep, asking without using his voice if he could come in. It was definitely not the first time it had happened; what with the instability between him and his family Tsukki had come over plenty of times unannounced and stayed the night, just to get a break from the household that stressed him out too much.
What was new, however, was Tsukki’s glossed-over eyes and the haphazard way he’d thrown on his jacket and glasses halfway down the ridge of his nose. He was stood at his doorstep looking like his composure was seconds away from shattering, seeming more unstable than Tadashi had ever seen him and somehow he had known what to do immediately.
He’d managed to sneak his friend past his mum and up to his room, and once there he’d turned to his friend who was already sinking down to the floor, glasses sliding off his nose completely.
Tadashi had been right there beside him, removing the glasses and helping Tsukki out of his jacket, knowing he himself didn’t like to wear clothes that could restrict him when he had any sort of breakdowns or attacks.
He’d attempted talking to the blond to try and coax it out of him what was happening so Tadashi would know what and what not to do. He’d been blatantly ignored, so he’d sat down somewhere in between next to and behind the blond and listened to the blond’s heavy breaths and occasional sniffles.
Despite never having to comfort anyone like this, or at all, Tadashi had kind of just known in this situation what he should do to help his friend as well as he could with the lack of communication. And now he was here, forcing himself to breathe through his best friend’s breakdown and force himself not to break down himself at the hurt he felt racking his body for this boy, this boy that he held such immense love for.
When Tsukki started hyperventilating Tadashi lifted his head to press his temple to his hair, telling him to breathe with him. His ribcage rose and fell against the other’s back, and not too long after he could feel Tsukki’s breathing rhythm completely match his own steadily.
The blond’s voice was thick and exhausted when he declared into his hands, “I’m so tired, Tadashi.”
Tadashi blinked away the wetness that gathered in his eyes as he nodded. “I know.”
Silence gathered around them, not in any way tense or thick or loaded. Tsukki wasn’t sobbing any longer, and all that could be heard was his occasional sniffles and catch in his breath puncturing the rhythm of their breathing. Tadashi didn’t move an inch and Tsukki didn’t make a move to push him away.
“You need— You need help, Kei,” Tadashi said quietly after a while of silence. “Help I c-can’t provide despite how much I wish I could.” He swallowed, trying feel if there was any change of atmosphere that would indicate he shouldn’t continue, but when there was none he kept going, “You might be… ill, and I’m not a professional. I’ll s-still be here, of course, and I’ll go to the nurse with you if you want me to.” There was another pause in which Tadashi sighed, and pressed his forehead to the back of his friend’s neck. He added in a mumble, “I’ll do anything for you, Kei.”
The breath Tsukki let out was shaky and made shoulders Tadashi hadn’t noticed tense up slope. He pulled away from his friend and for a moment Tadashi was scared to death that he’d messed up, reaching out on instinct to stop Tsukki from going without talking to him. But Tsukki only shifted more to Tadashi’s side, then lay down with his head in brunet’s lap. He sighed when his body was flat on the floor and his head was steadily resting on Tadashi’s thigh.
Tadashi blinked down in surprise for a second, completely taken aback by Tsukki welcoming his comfort and even initiating this kind of contact. He picked himself back up quickly though, leaning back until his back hit the side of his bed and his hand tentatively finding his friend’s hair. He started carding through it gently when his friend didn’t seem to mind, only blinking up at the stars in the ceiling with a blank expression, saying nothing in response to what Tadashi had suggested.
At least he hadn’t turned down the idea, nor put distance between himself and his friend. That was a good sign.
Tadashi didn’t know how much time had passed with them just being there on the floor, his fingers playing with blonde curls, before his eyes started to droop. He searched Tsukki’s face and found his eyes half-lidded too.
“Tsukki, let’s go to sleep,” he murmured, playfully tugging at one strand of hair on his friend’s head to earn his attention. It prompted a brief disapproving downturn of Tsukki’s eyebrows and lips which made Tadashi’s heart flutter slightly, happy to find that his friend was responsive and not completely void of his usual self.
The blond still said nothing as he pushed himself to a stand, Tadashi following his example. He threw off his hoodie and shimmied out of his pants but kept the t-shirt on—Tadashi caught a glimpse of his arms through the dark, pleased to find them properly taken care of this time—then climbed into the brunet’s bed.
Normally Tadashi would have pouted that Tsukki was being rude for taking his bed without permission, but this wasn’t normally and Tadashi didn’t feel like provoking that part of Tsukki that was insecure and, right now, so very close to the surface.
He asked, softly, “Tsukki, do you want clothes to sleep in?”
“No,” Tsukki answered, voice raspy after not having talked in awhile.
Tadashi nodded, then got down on his knees to pull out the futon from underneath the bed when he was halted in his action by Tsukki grabbing his sleeve. He looked up at his friend buried in his comforter, glaring at him, and tugged insistently.
“Wha— Tsukki—” Another, harder, tug.
“Idiot. I didn’t take your bed so you could sleep on the floor.” Tsukki’s tone was somewhat back to its usual, flat self with a hint of gruffness to it, and Tadashi found himself blinking at his friend for a few moments before he understood that Tsukki was telling him to get in the bed, too.
Not needing to be asked twice, Tadashi nodded and stood up again, finding his sleeping wear and changing quickly before climbing into the space Tsukki made for him on the bed, lifting the comforter to join him in the warmth.
He laid down facing his friend, searching his face for any semblance of discomfort or anything bad, basically, feeling immensely unsure of what to do here; what Tsukki needed or wanted. He found no sign of discomfort, not counting the weak glare his friend was still fixing him with. He was about to open his mouth and ask what it was for when Tsukki averted his eyes and shuffled slightly closer, which was sign enough for Tadashi.
He shuffled closer himself and put an arm around his friend and soon he found himself with an armful of Tsukki and breaths ghosting across his chest through the cotton of his pyjamas. Blond curls tickled his throat and he idly wondered whether his best friend was touch-starved, and this was the first time in a long time he accepted the human contact he didn’t but also did want at the same time. Because he appeared to need it, desperately, with the way he didn’t seem to want to go too long without it.
If so, Tadashi was happy to give it, hand fluttering down his friend’s back and stopping to wrap his arm securely around his waist. It was unusual to the both of them, this kind of touching, but it wasn’t unwelcome.
Tadashi buried his nose in Tsukki’s soft, silky hair, breathing in the comforting smell and letting his eyes slide shut.
That’s when Tsukki’s gruff voice punctuated the still silence; he said, “Okay.”
Bewildered, Tadashi frowned, lifting his head and wondered if he must’ve fallen asleep and held a conversation with his friend in his sleep, racking his brain for any kind of fragment of a conversation he couldn’t remember having.
“...Tsukki?” he questioned tentatively, not daring to move.
Tsukki tsk’d, then huffed irritatedly.
“Help. For me,” he explained gruffly, seemingly curling in on himself in Tadashi’s embrace. “I’ll do it.”
“Oh,” Tadashi breathed, blinking into the dark. “Okay. Good. I’m happy.”
Tsukki grumbled. “But only if you go with me.”
“O-of course, Tsukki.” I’ll go anywhere with you.
Tsukki hummed, relaxing again as silence fell back over them.
A few minutes passed, in which both of their breathing slowed down and indicated that they’d fallen asleep. But Tadashi was still awake, blinking lazily into the dark and focussing on the sweet scent of the shampoo the blond used mixed with Tsukki’s own scent that filled his nose. His heart swelled and he found himself almost too warm for comfort.
His hold on his friend tightened slightly. This was the most intimate moment they’d ever shared—it reminded Tadashi of how much his friend truly meant to him and how deep his feelings for him went.
He was tremendously glad and relieved that his friend was agreeing to let him help, even though he couldn’t do much.
“I love you, you know,” Tadashi mumbled into the blond curls, breathing out softly through his nose when he’d said it, “I’m not going away.”
It felt good to have it said, even though Tsukki hadn’t been awake to hear it.
“... I love you too,” came a murmur a moment later though, muffled by Tadashi’s chest, and the brunet froze. “Now go to sleep, Yamaguchi.”
Tadashi was positively not breathing. Tsukki had said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but to Tadashi it wasn’t. Yet, there it was; a quiet, meant to be secret confession and a mirrored reply that implied the feelings were reciprocated.
Tadashi willed his racing heart to slow down and himself to relax, using Tsukki himself and his presence to ground himself. When he had, he started to smile, face no longer buried in Tsukki’s hair.
He smiled and pressed his lips softly to the crown of Tsukki’s head.
“Goodnight, Tsukki,” he whispered.
Two years later they were third-years, and Kei had stopped practicing in hoodies and stopped participating in games with long-sleeves. He was blocking without having to feel the sting of the ball hitting potential open wounds behind layers of clothing.
If anyone dared to look strangely at his scarred arms he took every pleasure in sneering at them or stare at them until they shrunk away, not daring to look at any part of him again. Sometimes Tadashi was there to scare them off with him. He was very good at that, actually.
He wasn’t self-conscious about them and didn’t feel ashamed, not usually—but on the days that he did Tadashi always made sure to be there with him to take his hand and tell him he’s so happy that they’re scars; that they’re old and that there are no new ones because it’s proof he made it through. He was always there to make sure that it’s okay. Kei’s not messed up or wrong in any way for having turned to such coping mechanisms. He’s always there to remind him that he’s good and okay and amazing for having made it through everything. He’s strong.
Kei still bickered a lot with Kageyama and Hinata, which was a habit he was relieved hadn’t changed once they had gotten their own little insight on Kei’s previous situation. He wasn’t sure he’d been able to continue volleyball if they had acted weird, and he didn’t want that.
Tadashi kissed him a lot, and held his hand and Kei was still so flustered about it sometimes that he those times acted like he couldn’t care less (but Tadashi knew that Kei loved kissing him). He still had times when he would spew occasional venomous words in the heat of a moment around Tadashi, but he was quick to apologise and give his boyfriend space or try to talk it out when it happened. Despite those occasions, the kisses never stopped.
Akiteru practiced volleyball with them sometimes, and occasionally they went out to grab coffee with Yachi.
For the first time in years, Kei could recognise what he had come to know was genuine happiness. It had taken time and motivation he hadn’t possessed, and repeated talks with a psychologist and relapses, but here he was.
Staring at the freak toss-and-spike duo he scoffed, unimpressed, when they once again started making a fuss about something completely irrelevant in front of the first years. He muttered that they’re terrible captains and Tadashi beside him—always there beside him—giggled into his hand, then let it fall to brush against Kei’s.
Hinata actually started to somehow climb Kageyama for some reason Kei couldn’t care for even if he tried, eventually making them both tumble to the floor in the process, and Kei was happy to loudly inform them about how professional they were. Tadashi snorted loudly, and as his pinky curled around Kei’s, the blond found himself biting the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. Yeah, he thought, I’m happy.