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“Toss to me Senpai?” Hinata’s voice cuts through the usual after-training chatter like a hot knife through butter. Tsukishima wishes for his headphones, but those are out of reach.
“Your enthusiasm is admirable, Hinata-” Ennoshita starts, clearly trying to help.
“I’d love to,” you say, “but we have to keep the others in mind. Surely everyone else wants to go home.”
Tsukishima does. They are training more than hard enough and he’s still got homework to get to, not to mention the math exam he needs to prepare for. He only realizes that he’s still looking in your direction when you turn your head and catch his eye, sending him one of those calm smiles he’s learned to expect from you.
He turns away, but not fast enough. Yamaguchi sends him a questioning look.
At least his best friend is smart enough not to ask about it when others are present.
.
“How are you keeping up?” You ask, falling into step alongside him. Yamaguchi tenses to his right, but no one else seems to think it weird that you’re talking to them.
You’re friendly to everyone, but Hinata quickly claimed your attention. He was the one who found out you played Volleyball before you moved and even though he lacked the brain, he did not miss the fact that you’re talented.
Ennoshita and the more sensible second-years are never far from you and are most likely the reason you joined their team as assistant Coach instead of the girls.
“Tsukishima?” Your voice cuts through his musings. He flinches and turns, surprised to hear Yamaguchi muffle a snort behind his hand.
“Sorry, I was lost in thought.”
“I’ve noticed. Is the training regimen too much?”
“No,” he sounds a little too defensive, he thinks, but he doesn’t want you to think he’s lacking. “No, it’s just… I was thinking about the upcoming math exam.”
You nod. “I understand. How are you doing in that subject?”
It’s easy to talk to you, Tsukishima realizes. He might not like spending so much time with hotheads like Hinata and Kageyama, but Volleyball Club isn’t all that bad if it means spending time with sensible people like you. And the others, he immediately follows up, as if to defend his thoughts to himself. You’re not the only sensible person on the team.
-
“Here,” you hand him a bottle, “drink this.”
“What is it?” Tsukishima asks, a little annoyed. He doesn’t like admitting it, but he’s thankful for all the tips he’s gotten from Kuroo, even though he still hasn’t figured out why he does it. Is he trying to fool him, teach him something he can exploit later? Whatever the reason, he’s started butting into things that don’t concern him. And if you’re now digging into his small appetite as well, he’s going to-
“It helps,” you explain calmly, “my Dad showed me. I don’t have that much of an appetite but I need, I mean, needed the calories. It’s a little trick. Try it, see if you like it.”
It tastes like strawberries and cream, has the consistency of a milkshake.
“Thanks,” he mutters, a little lost in his feelings.
Your hand is warm on his shoulder, the grip strong. It sends a strange flutter through his body that he likes as much as he despises it.
.
“Do you have a minute?” You ask, meeting him in the darkness. Behind him the warm light of a now deserted Gym, behind you the dimly lit hallways that lead to the bathrooms.
“Sure,” Tsukishima agrees because it’s you. His feet follow your direction as you lead him down the path, away from the bathrooms and the Gyms. You don’t speak for a while and even though he’s tired and sweaty, he can’t argue about the calmness of the moment.
That is, until you turn at the sound of an animal and your hand brushes his, knuckles over knuckles, skin slick with sweat.
It’s only for a second, maybe even less, but he can feel himself moving, grasping for your hand as if to hold it. And isn’t that ridiculous?
“You wanted to talk about something?” Tsukishima says, heart in his throat as he balls his hands to fists, fighting against something in him he cannot begin to explain, to understand.
“Yes.” You nod, look at the ground first, then up at him. “I wanted to ask what you think of yourself.”
His tongue feels too large for his mouth. Do you know what he’s been thinking about lately?
“I know Yamaguchi already talked to you, he told me bits and pieces of it. I wanted to talk to you too, but I…” you laugh abruptly, “well, it seems he was faster. Tsukishima, do you think you’re less than… than the others?”
“Never,” his mouth says when his heart screams Of course!
You smile in a way that tells him that you’ve already seen through him.
“This is a training camp,” you tell him and he can’t help but admire how you brush against the topic with such a gentle hand, “I won’t take too much of your attention. I’m gonna give you my number, okay, and we can talk about this some more when we’re home and have a bit of free time to our hands.”
He laughs. The idea of free time has long turned unfamiliar.
“Poor Tsukishima,” you smile with a smile that has his heart bubbling, “it seems I’m going to have to help you.”
-
“Tsukishima-Senpai?” One of the new first-years asks and it’s so weird, isn’t it, to be in the middle like that. Still looking up to the Third-Years, but well aware of the example you’re supposed to be giving.
“Yes?”
“I was told- uh, I was told to take this form to the Coach, but I can’t find them anywhere and I don’t know- uh, Hinata-Senpai said I should ask you or, or the Captain, but I’m-”
“Look,” he grabs the boy’s shoulder and turns him a little until he can see you, sitting next to Takeda-Sensei, smiling a little at Nishinoya’s and Tanaka’s antics, “You can go and ask our assistant Coach.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m one hundred percent positive that she’s not going to bite off your head if you ask her something. I might, however.”
Yamaguchi sidles up to him the moment the younger boy runs off, grinning in a way that tells Tsukishima he heard every word.
“Hush,” he tells his best friend, “you heard nothing.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell on you. It’s weird to have our Third-Years missing, isn’t it? I miss Suga’s gentle hand.”
Tsukishima sighs. Yes. Ennoshita’s a good Captain, but he’s still a little unsure of himself. His eyes find you without meaning too, catch the smile you share with the shy First-Year.
“We still have a gentle hand. If we do our best we might even be able to show it ourselves next year.”
Yamaguchi laughs, clearly surprised. But he’s still his best friend, dropping the topic when it becomes clear he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.
.
“Is that seat taken?” You ask, voice barely audible. He takes his backpack off the chair and watches you slide in, the mountain of books in your arms a clear sign of the upcoming exams.
Tsukishima doesn’t want you to leave. Not this school, not this team. Not- no, he’s not going to go there.
You catch him looking, send him the calm smile he’s grown fond of, maybe even addicted.
There’s the sound of paper ripping and a little folded up note lands in his lap.
His hands shake a little when he opens it up, your handwriting is neat, the ink not yet dried, smudging as he smoothes the paper.
Can we go for a drink later? I need to tell you something.
His heart thumbs uncomfortably in his throat when he looks up, your smile is bittersweet.
Whatever his heart is wishing for, his head already knows that it won’t be the topic you’ve chosen today.
And he’s right.
You’re not confessing to him, nor are you addressing his own, deep seated, carefully hidden feelings for you.
The truth is worse and better at the same time.
You’re leaving, right after graduation.
And though you promise to keep in contact, a part of him sighs in relief.
Maybe, through distance, his heart will let go of this ridiculous idea.
After all, there are not many people he admires in this world, but he’s not dumb enough to think he could be a match for one of them.
-
His throat is dry, his nose clogged and he can barely see but his blaring phone does not care about that at all.
It takes him a moment to find it amongst the used tissues, one more to figure out how to pick up the call.
“I’m not sick,” he grunts into the little device, expecting yet another one of Yamaguchi’s worried Check-Ins.
“You do sound like it though,” your voice answers and the shiver it sends all over his body is most definitely not from the fever he’s been fighting.
“W-well, I’m not,” he stutters, looking for his glasses. He feels vulnerable without them, even more so with you on the phone.
How long has it been that he’s heard your voice?
“Well, if you’re not sick, how come that Yamaguchi asked me to check in on you?”
“He did? He’s worried for nothing, that’s all.”
“Mhm,” the little sound you make in the back of your throat does weird things to his stomach, “So you did not not pick up the phone yesterday after he brought you home with a high fever the day before that?”
“What are you, our mother?” He asks, words slipping from his raw throat. He regrets them the moment he hears them, even more when your answer is silence.
“Do you see me as a mother figure?” You ask and there’s a new feeling in his stomach, one that’s asking him to find the nearest bathroom before he’s starting to heave.
“No, I-” Tsukishima doesn’t know how to explain himself, or what to say without giving himself away. So he says nothing and neither do you.
Eventually though, he has to make a sound, mainly because he can’t keep from coughing for more than a few minutes.
“Tsukishima,” you ask, voice grown up and small at the same time, “tell me, how are you? We haven’t spoken in a while.”
If your conversation only grazes the surface of what he wants to talk about it’s his fault and his fault alone.
.
“I really like you,” the girl tells him, a little box of chocolates in her hands. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
She’s brave, to ask like this. Just this morning another girl from his class confessed to him. He’s forgotten her name on purpose but he’s not blind to how well-liked she was among her peers.
This girl, however, isn’t. She’s too tall for a girl, some say, too shy to be class president, too lanky to be good in sports. But she’s got a calm smile that reminds him of you and maybe that’s the reason he accepts, with a guilty heart and a knot in his stomach.
Maybe all he needs is someone else to fall in love with.
He knows it’s stupid, but he’s never been smart when it came to his heart.
-
“It’s a clean break.”
“It will heal fast, no lasting damages.”
“At least now you’ll have time to focus on your schoolwork. College is no joke.”
“Do you need my help, Tsukki? I can take a few days off work until you’re settled.”
He doesn’t want help. He might need it, but he doesn’t want it.
He doesn’t want company either, because none of them know what to do with him.
He’s miserable company on his best days but breaking his finger will leave even someone as cheerful as Hinata in a slump.
But, he thinks bitterly, things like that don’t happen to Hinata. Or Kageyama.
No, those things happen to him, right when he’s finally got a starter position in his College team. Right when he feels almost comfortable in his life.
So it’s not unreasonable for him not to want to talk to people.
If only the people would realize that and leave him alone.
.
First, it was the doorbell. Then came the knocking. Now someone’s calling his name.
“I’m coming!” Tsukishima’s not expecting anyone but if he had to guess, he’d say his brother made his way over. Akiteru has yet to learn when to keep away.
He fumbles with the keys, his cast as usual in the way.
The door opens wide and he stills, too aware of you to be aware of himself.
You look gorgeous. Your hair’s a mess, your eyes red and overshadowed by exhaustion, your shirt looks like you slept in it. His hand reaches out, faster than his brain can keep up, tapping your shoulder to make sure you’re real.
“Yes, it’s me,” you tell him, half a grin on your face, “let me in?”
Tsukishima steps aside, only now realizing he’s wearing boxer shorts and socks and nothing more. Heat crawls up his throat and he thunders down the hallway and into his bedroom to get dressed the best he can.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, anger lacing his voice to hide his shame. “Last time we talked you were-”
“Halfway back to Japan,” you interrupt him from the doorway. “It’s not official yet, but I’m starting as Assistant Coach for the Sendai Frogs next month. It’s just a Division 2 team, but it’s a start.”
He stills, not just because his arm is stuck in his shirt.
“You’re moving back to Japan?”
“Well, I was planning to,” you joke, “kinda hard to Coach a Japanese Team when you’re living in Argentina. Can I help you with that?”
“I’m fine,” he argues.
“That you are.” There’s a teasing lilt to your words that has his ears burning.
He’s twenty years old, not fifteen.
“When did you arrive?” He’s trying his best but his arm is stuck. You’re halfway through the room before he can speak up, hands warm as you help him out of his misery.
“Half an hour ago.”
You’re too close, but too far away. This is not- Can he still blame it on the painkillers if he took the last one this morning? He opens his mouth to ask you when he realizes that you’re the last person he should ask about this. But-
“Tsukishima?” You ask, voice soft, smile calm like he’s grown to love. “You’re in your head again.”
“Yeah, sure,” he nods, “How did you know?”
“You mumble your thoughts when you’re like that,” you point out and he might have caught it, the meaning those words carry, if your hand hadn’t reached up to cradle his cheek.
His eyes close for a brief second. In that darkness, there’s just your touch, the warmth of your hand.
His eyes flicker open again. You’re closer now and though he shouldn’t his eyes flicker to your lips, dry and chapped from a long flight.
“Do you love me, Tsukishima?” You ask. He leans in to kiss you. He’ll just blame it on the painkillers later.
.
“You had a crush on me,” Tsukishima points out, half dumbfounded, half giddy about the revelation.
“We just became a couple,” you point out, drawing your finger through the air to literally point at the way you’re sitting, your legs over his, ankles crossed, your face smushed against his shoulder. Your jetlag and his exhaustion do not mix well. Or maybe they mix perfectly, who knows at this point?
“Still,” he lets the truth linger on his tongue. It tastes delicious, like victory.
“But I think you were crushing on me first.”
“Well, we could fight about that,” he says with the air of someone who’s already won.
You snicker. “I am sure we will. But, Kei-” You stop when he shivers, the sound of his first name on your tongue still a little too indecent for this early hour. “I wanna talk some more about this. I had this big speech planned and-”
He leans in, presses his lips against yours. Once, twice, some more because he can, because he’s allowed to, one more just because.
“I think we should sleep first, talk later,” he can feel you smile, lips against lips, nose bumping his, “we’ve got all the time to talk about it in the morning.”
“Look at you, trying to be reasonable,” you coo, “You’ve grown so fast.”
-
“I still can’t believe it,” Hinata says, clearly a little miffed that his favorite Senpai picked Tsukishima over him. “He’s so mean all the time. Are you being held captive?”
You laugh easily. “No, but better make sure Kei’s here on his own free will. He might be the one being blackmailed.”
“Well, I can see it,” Sugawara declares friendly, “Tsukishima and you always got along. Two pees in a pod, really.” He winks.
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Tsukishima declares with the air of someone who could care less. Your hand squeezes his and he knows he’s been found out. You know he cares. A little too much most of the time.