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Tadashi isn’t sure why he agreed to close Shimada’s market a few nights a week– the pay is probably illegal and he hasn’t practiced with him since he was 16. Since he’s on the cusp of turning 18 though, he figures that it might be worth it to look for something new. For now though, he gets a quiet store and Tsukishima hanging at his side, fingers skipping through songs absently.
The market’s buzz blends in with Tadashi’s thoughts, distant hums soundtracking his mental ramblings. He plays with the store’s keys in his hands, looping it through his index finger and pulling it close. Outside, the sun disappears.
November always feels this way– cold and dark.
Tsukishima leans over the counter, his hands pressed to the counter as he glances at Tadashi’s notebook.
“You’re not finished?” his voice comes out low. Soft. The hour of silence must have taken a toll on his vocal chords.
Tadashi glances down at his assignment. No, he’s not finished. He squints at the clock. 6:47. His grip on the keys loosens up.
“It’s confusing,” he lies.
Tsukishima hums, looking away. His eyes are trained on the door, blinking slowly. Tadashi stares at his face. Studies it, maybe. Pink blush dusts his nose, a reaction to the cold air blowing in from the produce section. Tadashi wishes he could turn the heater on instead– risking his job for Tsukishima’s comfort. For a bored ‘Thank you’, and the shutter of his eyes as he takes a nap on the counter.
Tadashi sighs. He looks back down at the assignment. Linear algebra looks back at him expectantly and he wonders if he can get away with slacking off for the few months until graduation. For the last few months that he’ll see his best friends every day. Passing in the halls, practice in the mornings, weekends in distant cities.
Soon it will be, ‘Long time, no talk! Oh, yeah, I work at an office now– oh your team made it to finals? Yeah, my car’s just a rental, but maybe I’ll buy a used one next year! Is that the new phone?’
Soon. Or maybe not.
It’s just another day. Tsukishima doesn’t always spend his whole shift at Shimada’s with him, but today’s Friday and the day was just so long that a childish part of them aches to be together.
Is that anything? he wonders. He wonders if Kageyama would side eye them if he heard– if he’d say something blunt and rude about Tsukishima until Tadashi’s face falls. Or if Yachi would coo at them like always, talking about how their friendship is so strong that she wishes she had something like that. Tadashi would nod, but disagree in his mind– he’d never want her to feel the way he does.
It’s torture. Having this love for Tsukishima, sometimes it feels like torture. Until Tsukishima’s laughing in his bedroom or telling him he’s perfectly deserving of being captain, and then Tadashi feels like letting tears of joy flow.
Tsukishima is the most beautiful person Tadashi knows– yes, inside and out– and he’ll always be his friend.
And it never comforts Tadashi to realize it–they’ll always be friends. Friends? Who wants to be friends with Tsukishima? Tadashi wants to kiss him and drive him crazy, he wants to spoil him and please him to no end.
Suddenly, his hand reaches for the pen abandoned on the counter, flipping Tadashi’s assignment over to review it. He checks off most of the answers, skipping the blank ones and circling mistakes from where they glare at him. He’s silent, lips pressed in a tight line, and eyes unchanging.
Tadashi feels his ears burn hot. Thanks, he practices in his mind, feeling a wave of relief when Tsukishima looks up at him with a slight smile.
“You’re basically done. You get the concepts. But you’re getting distracted in the middle of these problems. What’s going on with you?”
He shrugs. You, maybe. Maybe.
Something glares at him in the way Tsukishima can tell how he’s feeling even through the pencil marks on his homework, as if he can feel the hesitation in his strokes. The way his eyes snap from the door to Tadashi’s knuckles, like he can sense how he itches to leave. To go home. To walk home with him. Does he feel the same?
“I feel like everything’s moving so quickly,” Tadashi exhales, taking the pen from where Tsukishima extends his hand, “18 used to feel so old. Like everything would make sense suddenly. What if it doesn’t?”
Tsukishima looks at him, drawing air in through his nose. Tadashi bites the inside of his cheek. This endless back and forth plays in his head, even if it all feels too late.
“It won’t.”
“Geez, thanks.”
Tsukishima lets out a small laugh at Tadashi’s tone, clearing his throat.
“It’s true, though. You need to wait at least until you’re 25– give your frontal lobe some time to develop. Though with you it might be a lost cause.”
“Hey–!”
“Just saying.”
They hold each other's gaze for a beat, breaking into laughter as the dead-pan joke finally breaks Tadashi. Tsukishima opens his mouth to speak again.
“Besides, you’re not 18 yet . Maybe it will make sense.”
“Does it make sense for you, Tsukki? The things you want in life?”
Tsukishima’s eyes snap to him for a brief second, his eyebrows furrowing. Tadashi swallows– could it ever ? He feels like he’s clawing at a frozen wall, barely chipping away for any semblance of an answer, to know if Tsukishima feels the same. The same about them , if he feels it too.
He has to, right? Tadashi’s not subtle, not cool, not as experienced as their teammates think he is. He’s the same kid he’s always been and he still blushes if Tsukishima looks at him too long while they’re in the changing rooms. He still brags about Tsukishima to Kageyama, protects him from Hinata, and tells Yachi the answer to everything her classmates ask about him.
Surely Tsukishima knows. Surely he doesn’t feel the same.
“I don’t… don’t think anyone ever knows,” he says finally, but he looks taken aback by Tadashi’s questioning. Tadashi tries to accept it as an answer. It sounds lived. But they haven’t lived.
“I think I need to switch things up. Maybe date someone or get a new job,” Tadashi thinks out loud.
“Oh,” is all Tsukishima says.
The clock above them lets out a chirp, signaling the turn of the hour. They look up at the hands pointing to 7 and 12. Tadashi gets up to lock the doors.
He glances at himself in the reflection of the glass doors. It had been Kageyama’s suggestion to cut his hair short, but a part of him wonders if it’s just doing harm to his nonexistent vanity. He just feels like he looks so different now.
“It exposes your face more,” Tsukishima had said the next day. He stole glances all last year, maybe because for the first time they could see him without his face being hidden by tufts of green hair. Tadashi’s neck flushed deep red once and for the first time Tsukishima stared at his lips with a pink glow on his cheeks.
Tadashi spent the next months wondering if there was something to say– something to confess or do, a way to be cool.
When he turns around, Tsukishima is looking up at him. He narrows his eyes at him and it’s like he can see right through Tadashi. As if he can see the want dripping off of him, the need to have him, the panic at being known so much.
No. Wouldn’t it be a blessing to be known so intimately? Tadashi shoots him a slight smile.
“Let me count the cash,” Tadashi says, watching as the blond nods and buries his face in his arms. Tadashi’s mind feels worn out. He feels like a pendulum, swinging towards the truth, then back further away.
The cash slides between his fingers and he recounts it to be sure.
When he comes back, Tsukishima’s breathing is slowed down and Tadashi places a soft hand on his shoulder blade.
“Tsukki. Let’s go. I’ll walk you home,” he offers, blinking as Tsukishima stirs awake. He looks up at him for a second, cheek pressed into his sleeve. He looks so real in this moment, eyes focusing on Tadashi’s face and his mouth parts for a second until he closes it again.
If he gets one wish this year, it’ll be to know Tsukishima better. It seems selfish. Immature, too. But Tsukishima’s looking at him so gently that he thinks it’ll happen even if he doesn’t wish for it.
He leads them out the door, locking it behind them with a tug.
It’s not snowing yet. The streets are prepared to deal with snow, and Tadashi’s already unpacked his warmest gloves. He looks over at Tsukishima, who stops walking once they’re outside the range of the streetlight. Tadashi turns around. He knows exactly who he’s looking at, but he stumbles back an inch when Tsukishima walks over to him and grips his wrist.
“Are you okay?”
Tadashi feels his hand twitch, held to his side by Tsukishima’s grasp.
“You like me, right?” Tsukishima says, and it sounds desperate or uncool, except it’s Tsukishima so Tadashi’s left stunned.
“Wait, what? How–who-”
“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima’s eyebrows furrowing, “don’t you?”
Tadashi just nods. His head feels heavy– has Tsukishima always stood this close to him after work? Does he usually tilt his head like that? Is he angry?
No. No, this time it’s something else.
Tsukishima nods and leans in, pressing his lips on Tadashi’s. Tadashi can feel the cold air blowing past them, but he squeezes his eyes shut and leans up to kiss Tsukishima back.
He’s cool and beautiful and kissing him. His hands are slowly pressing into Tadashi’s shoulder, fingers twitching at the fabric of his uniform and he’s kissing him. Tadashi feels it wash over him like a sunbeam, warming his cheeks and this space outside the store feels like heaven.
Tadashi leans into him more, but his nose hits Tsukishima’s frames and they jump apart. He rubs his nose slightly, then looks at Tsukishima embarrassed, but the amused look on his face just makes him break out into a laugh.
“I should have taken them off, I guess,” he says, looking to the side.
“Or I might have been getting too into it.”
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”
Tadashi grins, feeling a shiver as Tsukishima’s hand runs down his arm to his hands.
“I don’t know what I want in life,” Tsukishima says, touching their fingers together and it feels different because it is. So, so different from every other touch they’ve shared. Tadashi nods.
“That’s okay.”
“Is this? Okay?”
“Yes,” he rushes to speak, to leave him without a doubt that he’s absolutely, painfully okay with this. This, and everything after. Every dopey, glazed-over laughing fit and every hard day spent healing.
“I really like you,” Tadashi breathes out, eyes jumping nervously.
“I like you too,” Tsukishima says, eyes widening a bit, “I was waiting for you.”
He nods. He wants to fall in love with Tsukishima. He’s sure he’s almost there. Tsukishima’s fingers wrap around his hand, cold palms pressing against his own. November is such a cold month, but Tadashi can’t change when his birthday is.
He looks up at Tsukishima, grinning. Maybe this year his birthday will feel warmer.