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Kei is always wearing his headphones. Walking to and from school? Headphones. Studying? Headphones. Falling asleep? Headphones. Tadashi is almost sure he saw Kei entering the shower with them still latched onto his poor, abused ears. Not that he was watching Kei shower or anything.
Tadashi was fine with it; he became accustomed to the device. Even going so far as to asking Kei to put them on his own ears one day—so he could get a sense of he was into at the time. This came in handy when picking out his 14th birthday present. (A very overpriced beabadobee album, but who’s remembering?)
Either way, Kei loved his headphones. So much so that often he’d put them on while people were talking. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. Tadashi didn’t mind this either. He got to rant about his day, and Kei wouldn’t get bored by his predictions. It was a win-win for both.
Some days Tadashi did wish that Kei could be bothered enough to listen to him while he spewed nonsense—like he’d seen with Nishinoya and Asahi—but he didn’t like crossing boundaries with Kei.
He was fine with how things were, if that’s all he could get.
“Yams? Hellooo? Anyone in there?”
Tadashi startled. “Y-Yeah, Shoyo?”
Shoyo curved his body around Tadashi, attempting to point at the lanky boy glaring out the window, sat snugly next to Tadashi on the joint bus seat.
“Why do you talk to blondie over there when he has headphones in? Can’t he not hear you?” Shoyo asked, the quiet sound of the vehicle wheels hitting a speed bump accompanying him.
“Oh—no, he can’t. But it’s fine. I just like talking to him,” Tadashi replied with a little too gleeful of a smile.
Hinata stilled for a couple of seconds.
“That is so sad.”
Sad?!
“W-What?”
“You heard me! You deserve better, Yams.” He patted Tadashi on his shoulder in an attempt to ease him. “It’s okay, I’ll be your best friend.” He continued, puffing his chest out like he’d just offered Tadashi the world.
Tadashi chuckled awkwardly, slyly shuffling away from the overbearing boy. “That’s okay, Shoyo. I’m fine with Tsukki!”
Hinata let out a frustrated huff and returned to conversing with Nishinoya about whether the food at the training camp would be up to their ‘advanced standards.’
Tadashi groaned as he struggled to take out his ridiculously heavy luggage. Maybe he had overpacked. The voices of both his mother and his best friend washed over his mind. Just saying, if you end up packing too much, I’m not helping you carry it. He remembered Kei saying.
And still, the other side of the suitcase was even with his weight.
Oddly enough, Kei hadn’t spoken a word since they got on the coach. Well, it wasn’t that odd. It wasn’t too rare that he’d get like that—nonverbal and quiet, his communication skills diminishing. Tadashi just wasn’t sure why here and now. Had he babbled too much on the ride? Or were they sitting too closely? Tadashi hovered on the notion, but Kei would’ve expressed that by nudging away from him or… telling him to shut up.
“Tsukki, is everything okay?” Tadashi asked while he and Kei settled the weighty carry-on down to the floor of the tiny room the team was being forced to squeeze into together.
“I’m fine, Yamaguchi. Just tired, is all,” he reassured.
Plausible. He had slept for two straight hours on the minibus. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if he had left over fatigue. “Okay, if you’re sure, Tsukki!”
Their unremarkable conversation was cut short by a lengthy scream. Apparently, Shoyo had found an obnoxiously large slug and cruelly thrown it at Kageyama. Kageyama’s phobia of bugs was revealed, and Shoyo had yet to wake up.
Tadashi took this pause to really admire the room. There were damp spots on the ceiling, cracks in the wall from years of use, and an earthy, homey smell.
He couldn’t say he hated it. Tadashi was always one for older buildings; he found them interesting.
“Kinda like Fifty-Two, huh?” Kei perked up.
“Fifty-Two?”
“The deserted building next to school? We searched through it when we were kids. The door number was fifty-two. It sort of reminds me of this room.”
Tadashi explored the room with his eyes again. It did have its resemblances. “Thinking of my interests, Tsukki? How out of character.” He winked at Kei.
“Oh, I’m always thinking of you, Yamaguchi.”
“Really now? Can’t say I feel the same.”
“Yeah, yeah. Like you didn’t just drag me to a museum event the other day.”
Tadashi placed a thumb on his chin and pretended to ponder. “Hm, no, I don’t recall that.”
Kei rolled his eyes as he neatly pulled off his glasses to wipe them with a tug of his shirt. “Sure.”
Tadashi traced his fingers along the aged windowsill, his nails picking up a worryingly large amount of dust. He wondered how old the building really was and, more importantly, how long it had been since it had been cleaned. Just from the dust collected on his fingertips, he’d guess nothing short of a year or two. Gross—but fascinating. He might have to search for the structure online when he got back. Maybe search for a second pinboard to fit it on, too.
“Tsukishima! Yamaguchi! Come on, we’re meeting the other teams in the hall!”
The two quickly recognized the voice of their captain and hurried to join the rest of their team.
Tadashi couldn’t help but awe at the sight of how the building was structured as they ran. The old pillars and doors only intrigued him more. It was dull, yes, but he knew there was something more to it—something under the cracks of the floorboards. Something only time could tell.
Soon, Tadashi’s peaceful thoughts of his fixation were replaced by worrying about where his life long nemesis—the volleyball—was bound to land next. He had gotten decent at his float serves. Decent, but not perfect. Never perfect. He still needed to practice more, to focus all his strength on hurling the ball strategically across the net.
Suddenly, he felt a warm hand touch his.
“Yamaguchi, you’re fine. Stop tensing up.”
Wow, Kei never says things like that!
Tadashi’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, Tsuk—!”
Oh, that’s because it wasn’t Kei. When Tadashi turned his head, expecting blonde strands to invade his eyes, he was only met with dark brown ones. He straightened up, embarrassed at his mishap.
“I-I mean, thank you, Daichi!”
The captain chuckled, landing a hand on Tadashi’s head and ruffling his hair as if he were a puppy that just messed up a trick.
Right, focus. This isn’t a real match! It’s only practice. You can relax, Tadashi, he told himself.
And he did. The uplifting voice of Sawamura had tranquilized him. His shoulders loosened, his hands steadied. He could do this.
Tadashi threw the ball, and sure enough, he…
Missed. Of course he did.
A collection of “Don’t mind!”s and “You’ll get the next one!”s filled Tadashi’s ears—statements he had grown far sick of, if anything.
Kei stalked toward Tadashi and almost patted him on the back, but his hand slipped away at the last second. Like Yamaguchi’s honeyed skin would burn him at the slightest touch. Melted glass and it’s gaffer.
“Good execution, Yamaguchi. I could tell you were focused.”
Tadashi sighed. Almost annoyed that little comment cheered him up so much. “Thanks, Tsukki. I just don’t understand why I keep slipping up.”
Kei hummed, the sound reverberating in Tadashi’s ears the way Kei’s headphones did in his. “You’re just nervous. I would give you advice, but… you know me. I’m missing that nervous part in my brain.”
“You’re missing a lot of parts in your brain, Tsukki.” Tadashi faintly prodded Kei’s leg with his foot, eliciting a staged reaction from the boy. “And don’t lie. I’ve seen you nervous plenty of times.”
“Hmm, no, I don’t recall any of that,” he mocked.
Tadashi smirked and began to chase after the ball he threw—a small reminder of his previous failure.
“Hey, do you wanna go on a walk after this? Just to look around?” Kei called.
A walk could be fun. Tadashi would never turn down an opportunity to look further into an old building.
“Yeah, okay!”
Tadashi and Kei were then separated into teams for a practice match.
…
Yamaguchi pinched Kei’s arm. Kei frowned but looked down.
“Was practice good for you, Tsukki?”
Kei removed an ear cup, straying his eyes to the path ahead.
“It was… fine.” He paused. “It was average.”
“Only average?”
Kei nodded.
With a skip and swivel of his feet, Tadashi was walking backward, his eyes facing the hill next to the path they were on.
“That’s not true.”
“Is it not?”
“Yeah! Well, I think so. I think it’s amazing how we get to see so many different players’ techniques and—”
And the ear cushion was back where it belonged—on Kei’s ear. Tadashi was left, once again, unfazed. Unfortunately. Very unfortunately.
He didn’t want to think about how annoying his voice must be, so instead, he engrossed himself in his surroundings.
There were more cracks on the outside of the building. The grass was unkempt, and the ground was filthy. Tadashi imagined the previous owners must’ve cared more about the insides of the structure than the exterior. He mulled for a second. That was fair. The path was uneven, and weeds tangled through the small ruptures. Tadashi resonated with the unevenness—it was the same as how he felt. Unsure about himself. About his friends.
Yamaguchi thought about how he’d keep a building if he owned one. Or a house, more realistically. He liked things to be clean, but he’d want a more lived-in, cozy vibe. After all, he wasn’t a psychopath who wanted everything spotless all the time—like some people he knew. His pupils drifted to the towering teen next to him.
Or maybe if the two were to live together, it would be a nice mix. Although, if Kei did decide to keep the house as clean as possible 24/7, Tadashi wouldn’t have the strength to deny him.
Tadashi didn’t have the strength to deny Kei anything.
It was humid. The cold midsummer air tickled Tadashi’s textured skin—becoming the second thing to give him chills. He could hear the faint chatter of his teammates and the occasional whistle of the wind rustling through the trees. Tadashi stole a glance at Kei, the soft glow of the moon shining against his features, his platinum hair almost appearing silver. His earphones remained tightly hugged to his ears.
Tadashi allowed a small sigh to escape his trapped lips. This was okay. They were okay. Kei wasn’t mad at him, and they weren’t fighting.
Even so.
The tug on Tadashi’s heartstrings remained—the tug that told him Kei was too good for him. Out of reach. Specifically off-limits to skinny, freckly, mossy-haired boys.
Maybe Shoyo was right. Maybe it was sort of sad.
Tadashi bit his cheek, closing his eyes as the taste of coins washed over his tongue. Kei wouldn’t hear, not like this.
And yet, Tadashi felt as though this was the time to say it.
A deep breath. He focused all his energy on making his voice as small as possible.
“I love you, Tsukki.”
Nothing. Kei’s pace remained, and his breath didn’t even hitch.
Tadashi sighed again. Now, instead of whispering into a pillow, he could say what he felt he needed to.
“I like you so much, you don’t even know. Literally.”
Tadashi laughed. And he should’ve felt a weight lift off his chest, the strings tearing. But he didn’t. His heart continued to—embarrassingly so—ache. Ache with an unending need for his stupid best friend.
Of course, it wouldn’t feel the same as if Kei had actually heard it. It was foolish to think Kei would somehow hear him and sweep him off his feet like a clichéd, Disney princess. Yeah. Foolish.
Tadashi ogled the building they had been circling again, its worn-down walls and forgotten stories oddly comforting. Maybe things were better this way—left voiceless and abandoned.
Tadashi could join the space beneath the planks, remain there until he too, was forgotten.
Abruptly, Kei leaned down to Tadashi. His breath chased down Yamaguchi’s chest, and his glasses tumbled down his upturned nose. He took off his ever-present sound shields and delicately placed them onto Tadashi’s own tan ears.
Silence.
No music, no podcast—nothing. And… god. Tadashi could hear. For god sakes. He could hear the flute of the wind, the same rustling leaves that brushed past them mere moments before.
And he could hear… of all things, Kei.
“You’re an idiot. I can’t believe you thought I couldn’t hear you all these years.”
Tadashi would’ve exchanged Kei’s tart remark, if his mouth wasn’t busy.