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The first time Tetsurou tries, he is clumsy, awkward and so painfully seventeen.
“So Tsukki,” he drawls, trying to keep his voice light and breezy despite the whirlwind of emotions (and possibly everything he’s ever eaten) swirling around in his stomach, “summer camp’s ending soon… Anyone caught your fancy?” He even manages to punctuate the end of his sentence with a toothy smirk.
Nailed it. His brain congratulates him.
Who cares if Bokuto is staring at him from across the court with his mouth open so wide that Tetsurou could stuff a volleyball in it, or that the bright spotlights and the smell of sweat in the air made gym three decidedly, one of the unsexiest places in the world to confess?
Tetsurou is an expert at ignoring things that don’t further his agenda, and what he wants right now, is to hear Tsukishima say his name.
Now, if only life could be as supportive of his romantic endeavours as they were of his volleyball-related ones.
“… Huh?” Tsukishima’s blank stare repeats the sentiment of the word.
Arguably, it’s nothing more than a harmless request for Tetsurou to repeat himself.
Unfortunately, it’s enough to knock the wind right out of Tetsurou’s seventeen-year-old sails and render his already diminishing stash of courage, completely empty.
“Nothing,” Tetsurou whistles, shooting up from his seated position on the gymnasium floor, “who’s up for another game?”
Bokuto starts cheering, as though already (and thankfully) forgetting Tetsurou’s mortifying attempt to weasel an answer out of the elusive blond boy that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head for the last few months.
The game begins when Akaashi returns from the washroom and ends as it always does—in a mess of sweat, adrenaline and the promise of beating each other the next time.
“See you guys tomorrow!” Bokuto exclaims at a volume way louder than appropriate for 10pm at night before sprinting down the corridor with Akaashi hot on his tails. Tetsurou hopes they are going straight to the Fukurodani dorm but honestly, he won’t put it past them to take a little… Detour.
Tetsurou pouts and kicks a small pebble out of his way. He’s not jealous. Not at all.
“I’m going to find my friend too,” Tsukishima announces with a small bow, “thank you for inviting me to practice again.”
Tetsurou grins and gives him a short wave, “see ya, Tsukki, I’ll text you the practice location tomorrow.”
Tetsurou can see Tsukishima nod from the corner of his eye and waits until he can no longer see him before he lets the smile fall off his face.
Prior to their first real conversation, Tetsurou heard tales about Tsukishima’s antagonistic tendencies and how astute he is at making observations on and off the court. It’s one of the many things that piqued Tetsurou’s interest in him (right alongside his pretty face and the potential bubbling underneath it, of course).
That said, if Tsukishima had noticed Tetsurou hasn't looked at him since the awkward confession attempt, he’s kind enough not to point it out.
The second time Tetsurou tries, he is still seventeen, and dressed in Nekoma red as he stands on the orange court across Karasuno High.
There’s no two ways about it, they lost fair and square to a team that had grown leaps and bounds since they first met.
It sucked to know that he would not be playing anymore games with the team he had built from the ground up with two of the best people he knows (unfortunately, one of them happens to be Yaku). Still, it was hard to feel too sad about it.
Not after the amazing game they played.
Not after Kenma’s surprise.
Not after-
“Thank you, Tsukki,” Tetsurou exhales as he pats him gently on the back.
He can hear every other player on the court shuffling back and forth around him, clapping each other on the back, acknowledging each other on a game well done.
He’s doing the same thing, really.
What of it if he’s spending a little more time on Tsukishima than anybody else? Or if he’s leaning just close enough into the crook of Tsukishima's neck to pick up the faded remnants of his (lilac?) bodywash?
He’s not hurting anyone.
“Are you going to tell him?”
Well, not anyone else at least.
Tetsurou’s lips curl into a rueful smile. He doesn’t need eyes at the back of his head to know that Kenma is watching him with a barely concealed frown on his face.
He knows why. He also knows his best friend is right.
Tsukishima’s journey with volleyball isn’t going to stop here. He’s going to fly further, soar higher than anyone would ever expect from the passive middle blocker who kept insisting that volleyball was just a club. Tetsurou was sure of it.
Even if he wouldn’t get to witness his growth firsthand anymore.
The thought throws his already erratic heartbeat into a frenzy.
“Tsukki?” He tries, and if Tetsurou wasn’t already listening out for it, he may have missed the quiet, “yes, Kuroo-san?” that Tsukishima replies with seconds later.
“I wanted…” he pauses, swallowing the hardened lump of saliva in his throat, “no. I have to tell you something,” Tetsurou rasps as he pulls away.
In theory, confessing to someone should be incredibly simple. It’s three words, sometimes even less if both parties have an unspoken understanding of where they’re at. Bokuto didn’t even need any words during his confession.
“One look,” Bokuto had pointed at his own eyes with his index and middle finger in the middle of the crowded cafeteria one particular summer night, “you’ll know, bro.”
Against all odds, Bokuto was right.
Tetsurou just wishes that of all the things that could have possibly hurt him today, it wouldn’t have to be Tsukishima and his beautiful honey, golden eyes, that breaks his heart.
“I’m… So proud of you, Tsukki,” Tetsurou ever the adaptable one, changes the script again, “I can’t wait to see where you’ll go next.” His voice may falter but the sincerity in his words is real and pronounced. After all, he'd never lie about how proud he is of Tsukishima.
“Thank you,” Tsukishima clasps his hands together, twiddling his thumbs for a beat before he follows up with, “what about you?”
Will you continue to play?
Tetsurou hums, he had asked himself the very same thing for years, up to as recently as moments ago when he watched the ball slide off Kenma’s slippery hands and fall to the floor with a soft ‘thud’, signalling the end of Nekoma’s journey in the nationals and Tetsurou’s high school volleyball career.
“Not sure, yet. Why?” Tetsurou deflects, wiggling his brows as his naturally flirtatious mannerisms return, “miss me already?”
He can hear Nekomata sensei calling him over for a team debrief and while Tetsurou isn’t one to ignore his elders, least of all his esteemed mentor, he’s finally feeling playful again and doesn’t want the interaction to end.
Who knows when the next one will be?
If there even is one. Tetsurou’s brain supplies unhelpfully.
Did he wish he could keep in contact with Tsukishima after he graduates? Yes. Did he also know that a friendship with a boy two years younger than him who lived hours away was unlikely to yield any results, much less his ideal one? Of course, he did.
“God, you are insufferable.”
But as Tetsurou watches Tsukishima roll the very same pair of eyes that had cut deep into him just minutes ago, voice tinged with the tiniest bit of fondness, he hopes that he can continue watching Tsukishima grow into the player he always knew he would be—no matter where either of them end up.
Third time around, Tetsurou is twenty-five with a stable, full-time job he loves, and a (somewhat) furnished apartment that he rents with his own money.
He’s also, against his better judgment, a little drunker than he ought to be on a Tuesday night, as he stumbles through the front door and face-plants directly into the middle of his three-seater sofa.
He has a big presentation tomorrow which ironically, his drunkenness may help with since he tends to get a boost of bravery when he’s got a little booze in his system.
What is not helpful, is the shrill buzzing of his handphone that he forgot to mute.
He grumbles, blindly crawling over to his open backpack, digging around in it until he locates the stupid device.
“Hello?” He yawns loudly into the phone without a second thought.
“… Is this a bad time?”
Tetsurou’s eyes go wide, “Tsukki, hey!” he exclaims despite the way his tongue feels like a fur carpet that sits limply in his mouth, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” He may also have yelled out that last bit.
On the other end of the line, Tsukishima clicks his tongue.
“I can call bac-”
“No, no, I’m all good!” Tetsurou cuts in quickly, grabbing a small portion of skin on his forearm and giving it a hard pinch, “what’s up, Tsukki?” Tetsurou yelps as he uses every bit of his remaining strength to pull himself up onto the sofa.
“Pinching yourself, Kuroo-san?” Tetsurou can hear the amused lilt of his voice, “it’s fine, if you say you’re awake then you are. I can’t be bothered to argue.”
Tetsurou grins, “accepting what I tell you at face value?” he nestles himself into the crook of the sofa, getting comfortable, “are you really Tsukishima Kei, middle blocker extraordinaire of the Sendai Frogs?”
The seventeen-year-old version of Tetsurou would be delighted to know Tsukishima had broken the news to him as soon as he got accepted into the team, and he would be even more delighted if he learned that the two of them kept in touch all these years.
In fact, they do a lot more than that.
The last time Tetsurou visited Sendai, he even met Tsukishima’s brother (who immediately raised his brows upon hearing Tetsurou’s name for some reason) and he’s hung out with Tsukishima’s Karasuno friends on more than a handful of occasions.
Yea. He’s pretty sure he’s not being presumptuous. They are friends now.
“Funny, you mentioned the Frogs,” Tetsurou can tell from the way Tsukishima’s sucking in a deep breath that the next part of his sentence was going to be the gist of the call, “Sendai Frogs... Is now a Division One Team,” he speaks calmly, precisely and still, Tetsurou can hear the smile in his voice.
“Tsukki, that’s fantastic! Congratulations!” Tetsurou whoops.
It’s not like Tetsurou didn’t see it coming, little people in the world monitored Sendai Frogs’ progress as closely as he did. Partly because he worked in the JVA, and it was his literal job to keep tabs on all the teams they managed.
But mainly, he does it because…
Well.
Tetsurou has always had a hard time quitting things—his feelings for Tsukishima are no exception.
It was hard at first. He spent much of his late teens and even a part of his early twenties in denial, even going so far as to hooking up with he-who-must-not-be-named before accepting that this is how it is. How it’ll always be.
Tetsurou is a lousy drinker. Fact.
Tetsurou wants to lower the net for everybody. Fact.
Tetsurou will always love Tsukishima Kei. Fact.
It’s a part of who he is at this point, and he can’t be bothered to do anything about it anymore. Doesn’t want to, really. He’s happy to have Tsukishima in any way he can, even if that means being nothing more than a friend.
... No matter what Kenma says.
“We are celebrating this, you are not allowed to turn me down,” Tetsurou chides as he taps on his screen for his calendar and upcoming appointments, “remember, I know the Frogs training schedule so you can’t lie your way out of-”
“Actually, Kuroo-san there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
Tetsurou’s breath hitches. He recognises this tone. It’s the same one Tsukishima used to tell him that he couldn’t hang out with him the last time he went to Sendai because he was with his… Boyfriend.
Is that what this is?
“Okay,” Tetsurou clears his throat, “what’s this about?”
No matter how okay Tetsurou is with being a friend, he doesn’t want to entertain this train of thought. He’s not that much of a masochist. Instead, he chooses to focus on the series of knocks against his front door as he puts on fluffy house slippers and heads over.
He doesn’t know who would be looking for him at this time of the night but he’s desperate for anything he can redirect his focus to besides the wandering thoughts of Tsukishima, his new maybe-boyfriend, and the dulled, ache in his chest that reminds Tetsurou that it will never be him.
It’s tough not to think about. Especially since the first thing Tetsurou sees when he opens the door is a shock of blond hair, wide bespectacled eyes and the latest smartphone pressed against his ear.
“Tsukki?” Tetsurou blinks, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.
It’s warranted. Tsukishima should be preparing to head to Osaka tomorrow for a practice game against the Black Jackals. Instead, here he is, hundreds of kilometres away at Tetsurou’s doorstep in Tokyo.
“Hi,” Tsukishima mumbles, pocketing his phone. Underneath the cold moonlight, his blond lashes look almost white, “Kozume-san couldn’t make it tonight?”
Oh. Right. Kenma was supposed to come over for dinner.
They were going to play video games and fall asleep on the sofa instead of the floor because they are respectable adults with backpain now.
“He had to do a last-minute stream,” Tetsurou hears himself respond robotically, eyeing the way Tsukishima’s oversized sweater falls just slightly off one of his shoulders, giving Tetsurou a glimpse of smooth, unblemished skin.
God. Tetsurou is not sober enough for this. “Don’t get me wrong,” he clears his throat instead, “I’m happy to see you but what are you doing here, Tsukki?”
Tsukishima’s hands are in front of him again, clasped together like he always does whenever he starts feeling anxious.
“I got the news about the Frogs promotion on my way back to Sendai from Shizuoka.”
EJP Raijin’s home base. Tetsurou nods.
“And when the Shinkansen stopped at Tokyo station, I just found myself… Alighting,” Tsukishima’s pale cheeks have turned a subtle pink, “I don’t know why,” he adds quickly.
It’s not going to happen. Tetsurou’s brain screams, begs him not to go down this dark path again—not to get his hopes up again.
And if it were any other time, Tetsurou would probably have listened. But he’s got sand in his throat, steel in his heart and most importantly, bourbon in his stomach tonight.
Fuck it. He takes a step forward.
“Tsukki,” Tetsurou starts, keeping his voice even, “did you come to Tokyo because you wanted to tell me in person?”
They’re standing close enough for Tetsurou see the shine of Tsukishima’s strawberry lip balm on his lips, smell his sweet cologne, and see the way his expression shutters as he nods his head.
“Maybe.”
Tsukishima sighs, sweeping his long fringe out of his face and giving Tetsurou a clear look at the way his blond brows knit together tightly like a grumpy puppy.
“I don’t know, okay?” He folds his arms tight over his chest and oh, he’s actually pouting now. Tetsurou could die.
“It’s just that nothing feels… Real until you know about it too.”
Aaaaand that about does it.
Tetsurou has officially been killed by immense feelings of fondness and severe cute aggression for one Tsukishima Kei.
“Tsukki,” Tetsurou presses a hand against his heart, “that is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire fucking life.”
“Stop.” Tsukishima warns, his frosty tone completely overshadowed by the growing pink of his cheeks while Tetsurou laughs, probably a tad too loud thanks to the buzz from the alcohol.
“Glad I was able to make your night by making a complete fool of myself,” Tsukishima’s words have bite as he turns around to leave.
Not that he can. Thanks to the hand Tetsurou has wrapped tightly around his wrist.
“Let go,” Tsukishima huffs.
He doesn’t make any real effort to break free which is just as well because Tetsurou is not planning to let him go ever again. Not without finally saying to him the words he’s been storing away in his heart for the last eight years—not without a real fight.
“I love you, Tsukki.”
No tricks, no polite coverups, nothing, just Tetsurou holding all his love in his hands.
“I have for years” he continues as his grip of Tsukishima’s wrist goes slack, “and it’s okay if you don’t love me back, I just needed you to-”
Now, Tetsurou hates being interrupted as much as the next person. Being interrupted by your long-time crush pulling you into his arms to kiss you stupid though?
Might be one of Tetsurou’s favourite things yet.