Work Text:
“We cannot—will not allow it.”
“I’ve already applied,” he says softly, looking at his feet. “My scores are good enough.”
“Good enough, but by how much? You’re not exactly the brightest boy in your class.”
“N...no,” Tadashi agrees. “But Kei is and we’re going to... He’s going to help me because we’re going to go together.”
“Absolutely not, you will not waste your time and our money on whatever frivolity you two have dreamed up.”
“It isn’t frivolous, and I’ve wanted to be a vet since I was little! If you cared about me at all you’d know that, and you’d know that Kei isn’t a waste of time at all! We care about each other and we want to do this as— as partners! And if you cared you’d know we both got accepted under early enrollment too!”
Tadashi wakes just as his dream-mother lashes out and strikes his cheek. He’s covered in a cold sweat, heart racing uncomfortably fast. His cheek still hurts with the memory of the slap, the real blow that happened in January, not the dream of it.
He stares up at the white painted ceiling in the dark, the ache spreading from his cheek to a dull throb across his cheekbones, under his eyes.
He reaches out and prods at tender flesh, eyes watering as each inward breath burns and catches on his lungs. He never did quite get over his bout of flu the month before. His cough and inflamed sinuses had lingered long after even Kei had recovered.
He’d told Kei he’d go to the medical center on campus to get an antibiotic shot in case of sinusitis and bronchitis, but he’d kept forgetting until he’d just told Kei he’d gone.
He hates lying to Kei. Even thinking about it makes his stomach lurch; he hates how often they’ve been fighting now that they’re both under pressure.
His heart thuds and skips again and his chest is painfully tight. He sits up carefully, sweat trickling down his neck.
The place next to him is cold: Kei must never have come to bed following their argument the night before.
He stands slowly from the mattress on the floor, peeking out into the living area. In the faint light cast by their salt lamp, he can see Kei on the sofa, face pinches into a scowl even in sleep.
He can’t remember the last time Kei’s smiled in the past week, he thinks, swallowing the lump of tears in his throat. He understands why Kei is upset, he does.
Date night is important; Tadashi knows he promised to make dinner and clear time for just them. But he doesn’t understand why Kei doesn’t get that his job is important. Even more important than date night.
Grades are important as well; so when the offer was extended to him to get free tutoring sessions in exchange for covering an extra shift, of course Tadashi took it. Of course.
He doesn’t understand why Kei doesn’t get it. Good grades, all A’s, being a good worker, all of these things help him in the long run. Help him get a foot in the door, help him bring money into their apartment, keeps them in school. School is a long haul, he concedes, but he and Kei are in it for an even longer one.
He hopes.
Of course, he thinks suddenly, skin going cold, if Kei was to break up with him, he’d be homeless.
He just has to... He has to do better.
He turns away from the door and moves quietly to his computer, starting review on the last chapter’s PowerPoints. Chemical reactions make his eyes burn and they swim in his vision as his eyes blur over drowsily.
“Go to bed,” Kei’s voice says.
Tadashi starts at the sudden, brittle tone. “I can’t sleep,” he says softly. He hasn’t been sleeping well for ages. He’s tired now, but he knows the moment he lays down, his mind will be a live wire, strung too tight for him to sleep. It would be better if he just fell asleep at his laptop; falling asleep mid-task is the only way to quiet his buzzing mind lately.
It’s apparently the wrong answer. “Just try,” Kei snaps. “Do you want me to get in bed with you? You could have asked.”
“What? No? I... I wanted to study a little,” he mumbles, not wanting to admit that he’d been dreaming about his parents. He’s ashamed of how much it still hurts. Of how irritated Kei gets when he mentions them.
Wrong answer two. He sees the whites of Kei’s eyes flash in the darkness, and his boyfriend turns with a muttered ‘whatever’, before slamming the bedroom door behind him.
“Better,” Tadashi admonishes himself. “Do better.”
He hastily scrubs his hands against his eyes, not wanting for Kei to come back and see.
He wants to crawl in bed with Kei. He wanted it to be offered again, wanted to see Kei crawl into their sheets and have the option of nestling in, even if Kei was already asleep. He hadn’t thought that his answer had been a refusal to sleep together.
Maybe Kei just doesn’t want him anymore. He knows Kei doesn’t enjoy their classes like he does, even though he’s good at them; maybe Kei regrets their decision, despite having considered it carefully.
He bites his lip to keep it from trembling. At this point, he’s not sure what he’d do if he and Kei couldn’t make this work. The thought of having to go through someone else leaving him because he couldn’t meet their expectations, of having to face college and work and adulthood on his own...
It’s like a black tidal wave over his shoulder. His hands shake over his keyboard and a soft sound escapes his lips. He clasps his hand over his mouth, trying to get a hold of himself.
His teeth sink into his palm, hard, and it grants him enough control to steady his breathing and swallow back the itch in his throat.
He closes his laptop slowly, setting it to the side. He stands and strides to the door, but stops with his hand just over the handle.
What if Kei’s gone to sleep without him again? Or isn’t there at all? What if Kei yells at him?
He feels like a child again, gripped with fear over wanting his parents, but knowing they’ll scold him for waking them so late at night. His hands slip against the knob, making it clatter in its seat in the door.
“What?” Kei’s voice is muffled through the door, and Tadashi has no choice but to push the door open and face him.
“I... Just. I’m... I— ” Tadashi says.
“Go to bed, Tadashi,” Kei says wearily.
“Sleeping on the sofa isn’t good for you, you know?” Tadashi murmurs gently, “You should come to bed...”
“Says the boy who never sleeps,” Kei retorts.
Tadashi hunches his shoulders and curls his toes against the floor. “Please,” he whispers. “Please come to bed, Kei.”
Kei sighs and hauls himself off of the sofa and brushes past Tadashi. He settles onto their mattress, but with his back turned to Tadashi’s side of the bed.
Tadashi follows and turns himself towards Kei’s thin shoulders, fingers pressing tentatively against his spine. “Kei,” he says. “I know you’re upset with me but... I’ll do better next time.”
“There’s not going to be one,” Kei replies. “It was a stupid idea. Just do what you like. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter!”
“It doesn’t,” Kei replies. “It wouldn’t be an issue if you were happy, but you’re not. Even if you get perfect scores, even if they take you back, they’re still going to hate you. As long as I’m around, they’ll hate you.”
Tadashi withdraws his hand, stomach flipping uncomfortably. “Maybe,” he whispers. It’s too scary to think about, too painful.
He’s quiet for a long moment, looking at Kei’s thin shoulders. It feels like a wall he can’t climb over. Seeing Kei’s back never hurt before; even a month prior, they would sleep like this.
It didn’t feel so hard, then, to stretch his back and tuck his chin against Kei’s shoulder, his arms folded against Kei’s stomach and their legs tangled. It was warm and it was good, and Kei was softer.
Something shifted after midterms between them. Stress and illness and work had piled up and they just started chafing. The Kei who had taken care of him when he was sick and this one, who Tadashi felt like he had to hide a cough from, were so different.
And it was his fault. But he had to work, had to get good grades, scholarships. He had nothing but the things his parents had allowed him to take with him when he was kicked out in February.
“You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Tadashi asks Kei softly.
“I think you’re focused on the wrong things,” Kei answers eventually.
“You don’t get it,” Tadashi says. “You don’t— I have to— ”
“I don’t get it,” Kei says sharply. “I don’t get why you were so hell-bent on us coming to live together for us to never see each other. For you to blow me off.”
“Kei I’m sorry, but I told you— ”
“Whatever. Go to sleep.”
“Kei,” Tadashi whispers. “Tsukki, please.”
Kei doesn’t answer. Tentatively, Tadashi scoots closer and lays his cheek uncomfortably against Kei’s shoulder, only for Kei to shrug him off and curl up into a smaller coil in the sheets.
Tadashi clamps his teeth down onto his hand as he rolls over, muffling himself with sheets and flesh. If Kei hears him cry, he gives no indication of it. Tadashi half wants to stop quieting his cries, briefly entertaining the idea that if Kei knew, he’d reach out and comfort him.
But he learned a long time ago, crying doesn’t get him anything, so he simply clamps his jaw and lets the shudders wrack his body in painful silence.
When Tadashi’s alarm goes off, Kei has already left for their shared classes, and bruises litter the inside of Tadashi’s palms, his eyes heavy and swollen.
He rises to his feet, woozy with lack of sleep. He showers and drinks a cup of coffee, trying not to think about their fight or the exams he has coming up. The coffee sits sour in his stomach, and his chest is so tight he can’t breathe.
He fights back the urge to cough, knowing if he starts, he won’t be able to stop. He picks up a pack of cough drops on his way to class and hides them deep in his backpack, trying to keep the smell of menthol off of his breath.
The next few days pass in a blur of long shifts at the university library and extra lab time in preparation for their practical final.
He and Kei don’t talk much and it makes Tadashi nervous. They eat lunch together like always, but Tadashi’s too skittish to do more than pick at his food and keeps their talk bland.
He’s scared of saying something wrong. They still sleep in the same bed but they don’t touch. They go to class but don’t pass notes.
Tadashi feels like he’s fifteen and watching Kei wall himself off again, but he doesn’t have the strength to chase him down this time. Finals are starting, and Tadashi is terrified.
Just thinking about sitting in exams makes his heart start racing, sweat beading on his neck. Latin and diagrams and reactions and dissection instructions swim in his eyes and he can barely pick the information apart anymore.
He wishes he could ask Kei for help. Kei always could explain information he didn’t understand in a way that Tadashi could always remember. Even though his coworkers tutoring is nice, Tadashi still has problems.
But he can’t. Kei’s barely at the apartment anymore. Sometimes he’s with Kuroo and Bokuto, sometimes he’s with Kenma in the library. Others, he’s in the library with classmates. Sometimes Tadashi doesn’t know where he is.
He’s scared. And he’s alone.
Tadashi is exhausted. His body feels heavy and cold and his face constantly aches. He knows the bags under his eyes have reached raccoon levels but when he lays down he can’t relax.
He’s hyper aware of the information he doesn’t know, the money he’d be wasting if he didn’t pass, the sound of Kei’s breathing, the other man unaffected by the space between them.
When Kei looks at him, all Tadashi can see is disappointment. He hears his mother call their relationship short lived and frivolous.
He doesn’t think he can bear it anymore. He wishes Kei would go ahead and end it, end the fight, their relationship, whatever.
He knows it’s coming. He wants to know what he did wrong. He wants to know why it couldn’t be fixed. He knows he’s the one wrong, he always is.
He’s just so exhausted.
The day before finals week begins, the library is crowded. More people come to the information desk than he’s seen all semester; it’s fascinating, really, the things people ask him to pull between snatches of his own studying.
He’s pulling a book on marine ecosystems when his head starts spinning. Pain lances through his head, pounding at the base of his skull.
He sighs and rubs his neck, eying the shelf for the call number in his hand. Top shelf. He drags the step stool over and his vision swims.
He hasn’t eaten much, so he resolves to eat a granola bar when he’s done. It might taste like dirt, but it’s something to keep the worst of it away until he could get coffee, he thinks as he wiggles the book out of the shelf. Maybe he should actually get something to eat after his shift. Something bland, like a plain onigiri.
His foot slips on the way down. He’s dimly aware of falling before he closes his eyes against the onslaught of dizziness before everything goes black.
“Dude, just stop sulking,” Kuroo says for the tenth time that week. Maybe that day, but Kei stopped counting.
“I am not,” Kei snaps. He scrubs his hands through his hair and sighs through his nose.
Kenma looks up from his programming notes, raises an eyebrow. “You’re unhappy,” he says.
“He’s sulking,” Kuroo corrects.
“Maybe,” Kenma agrees. “But it doesn’t change that he’s unhappy.”
“Great, now you two are acting like I’m not here, either,” Kei snarls, stomach twisting as he sees Tadashi’s multicolored scrawl in his notebooks. He smoothes his fingers against the page, seeing the notes they wrote on the margins to each other.
He misses Tadashi. He misses him terribly, despite sleeping in the same bed with the other boy. He misses waking up and seeing Tadashi drooling into their pillow, his leg slung across Kei’s hip. He misses waking Tadashi himself, he misses sharing coffee and eating together and laughing. He misses doing laundry together, even, how Tadashi fusses at him for not separating their clothing right. He misses hearing him laugh and how they were always together, no matter what.
He looks up to see both of his friends looking at him with expressions of shock and pity. He hates it. Hates that they have to pity him.
Hates that he’s had to go to them to vent, to ask for advice. That he can’t guess what’s wrong with his and Tadashi’s relationship.
It had been so easy. They barely ever fought in high school after their first year incident. They could read each other in a glance, and they depended on each other fiercely. But now... Tadashi, who’d grown up bright and strong, was back to flinching at his own shadow.
He’s seen the bruises up and down Tadashi’s hands and wrists. The way he picks and his food and shakes. The cough drop wrappers. Heard him cry and wheeze and curse angrily at his textbooks.
Kei doesn’t know what to do about it, and he’s angry.
He’s hurt too: He’s hurt that Tadashi blew him off and won’t acknowledge that being stood up hurts even when your date in question lives in the same apartment. That Tadashi thinks that he’s— they— are less important than studying all night and extra shifts. Told him as much, even.
So, he got angry. He wanted Tadashi to apologize. And he wanted it without excuses. He wants Tadashi to stop telling him that he doesn’t understand.
He just. He just wants to talk normally to Tadashi again. He hates it that he’s like this, desperate for Tadashi to make the first move to fix this. He wants to not be angry, but when he sees Tadashi flinch and look at him like he’s someone who’s going to hurt him, it wells back up. When he hears Tadashi coughing in the shower, sees the bags under his eye, something cold sits in his chest.
It reminds him of Akiteru, and it scares him. It terrifies him, haunts him in his sleep. One day, all of it could come crashing down, and Tadashi won’t tell him that it has. That he won’t know. Won’t be able to do anything. It freezes him in place, locks his tongue. He’s afraid to make a move in case it’s the one that knocks over Tadashi’s precarious tower of work and school and dreams.
“You know, if you need someone to mediate,” Kuroo offers, “I could help. Or we could call up Akaashi.”
“No thanks,” Kei mutters. “He has to come around on his own.”
“If he doesn’t know he needs to, he won’t,” Kenma says quietly. “It sounds like you two aren’t being clear with each other. It’s hard to, because people are different.”
“You two don’t ever fight,” Kei points out.
Kuroo snorts once and Kenma’s lips twitch up.
Kei raises an eyebrow at them, and Kuroo answers: “Hate to burst your bubble, but we have disagreements all the time. Not fights like you two have— but we’ve known each other longer, so it’s a bit different. But we still get tense.”
“Kuroo leaves hair gel everywhere and leaves socks in the dryer,” Kenma supplies.
“You hid pans in the oven so you didn’t have to wash them and then forgot them,” Kuroo retorts. “For a week.”
“Anyway, we talk about it,” Kenma says, shrugging. “We think differently and have different priorities. Sometimes it happens.”
“That’s basically saying that he doesn’t see me as a priority,” Kei complains.
“He may not; he might not think that your relationship is in a place where it has to have priority. Or, he can’t handle the amount of priorities he has. He doesn’t know you felt neglected. “
“I told him I was upset,” Kei snaps.
“Did you say why?”
“He should know!”
Kuroo and Kenma trade looks before Kuroo shakes his head and sighs. “Look, that’s where it’s wrong. And ignoring him is going to make it worse, you know? He’s probably depending on you to have his back, especially after what happened with his family,” Kuroo says gently. He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. “You asked for advice so... Here it is: You’re the one out of line here, not Tadashi-kun.”
Kei looks away from Kuroo, fingers lacing in his lap as the older man continues:
“It sucks he’s standing you up to study and work, but... You need to tell him that you’re upset and worried, and compromise. There’s a sense of pride in being independent, and he wants that.”
“But being independent doesn’t mean alone,” Kenma adds.
“True,” Kuroo agrees. “You need to control yourself and not hurt him because you’re hurt. And don’t make that face!”
Kei sighs and rests his hand against his cheek, leaning against the table. “What you’re saying is that I should suck it up.”
“Not really,” Kuroo sighs, ruffling his hair absently. “It’s hard to describe, but there’s middle ground. It’s like hitting stride on the court, where everything is clear. You still have to work, but it’s easier to predict the path of the ball, where your teammates are going to be.”
Kei looks over at Tadashi’s information desk, the barest peek of his boyfriend’s profile visible from their table. He watches as Tadashi smiles and takes a piece of paper from someone. Kei feels his brows pinch together.
“Say,” Kuroo says uncomfortably as he watches Kei scowl over at Tadashi’s station; “You aren’t resentful, are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, you followed Tadashi here, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, we decided to go to college together,” Kei says slowly, watching Tadashi type in something and walks away. “I didn’t have anything that I wanted to study. He had his heart set on this program, and it isn’t like… biology is exactly boring. So I went with him.”
“So you don’t think you’re resentful of that?”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Kei says icily.
Kuroo makes a helpless hand gesture and shrugs at Kenma.
Kenma sighs softly. “It’s more than just you being upset at being stood up,” he says. “If you’re unhappy because of your situation, you shouldn’t take it out on Tadashi-kun.”
“I don’t follow,” Kei repeats coldly. “I’m perfectly fine with our situation.”
“Yeah, but... You already feel like Tadashi is abandoning you for school...”
“He is!” Kei snaps.
Kuroo and Kenma fall silent for a long moment. Somewhere in the library someone shouts in alarm, but Kei feels a million miles away, heat bubbling in his stomach.
“Maybe you should find something to... A team or a club, something that helps you enjoy college a bit,” Kuroo says gently. “Do you ever go out with coworkers? Have other friends than us?”
Kei snaps his books closed angrily. “That is not the problem here!”
“Except it is,” Kenma murmurs.
Kei freezes. Kenma’s quiet voice cuts over the sudden wave of chatter in the library.
“Tadashi-kun isn’t spending all of his time with you, like it was when you were in high school. You aren’t enjoying your classes like he is, and can’t understand why he’s trying so hard. You want to be enough for him, but you aren’t. He has other friends. Coworkers. Study groups. People who aren’t you. But you just have him.”
Kenma fidgets with his papers for a long moment, then continues; “It isn’t that he doesn’t care, it’s just... People need more than just one person,” he says. “Even someone like me or you. I have Shouyou and Lev still annoys the hell out of me at every given chance.”
Kei grips the spine of his textbook, watching the scurry of people back and forth instead of looking at Kenma or Kuroo. The people are all rushing in one direction; “Hey, I think... Something’s wrong.”
He points towards the crowd of people, biting his lip as the crowd grows larger.
“A fight?” Kuroo guesses. He waves towards a girl turning away from the group, frowning at her pinched expression. “Excuse me, miss, hey— what’s going on?”
The girl trots over, playing with her bag’s straps. “I didn’t see, really, but it sounds like a librarian passed out. They’ve already called for campus police, so there isn’t much anyone can do to help.”
It isn’t until Kenma’s hand tightens around his wrist that Kei realizes he’s stood. His chair is a good foot behind him and the girl looks startled by the sudden violent movement.
Kuroo shrugs and waves goodbye at the girl as she rushes away.
“Sit,” Kenma says.
“But Tadashi,” Kei says. His stomach flips. Tadashi should have been back from book retrieval by now.
“The chances are slim that it’s him,” Kuroo says, lips pinched into a worried frown. His eyes dart towards the crowd, then back to Kei.
“And what if it is?” Kei demands. Worry churns in his stomach, bringing bile against the back of his tongue. “This is the floor he works on, you haven’t seen him— he’s sick, not taking care of himself and I— ”
Kei flinches at the sharpness of the guilt that pierces through him. He hasn’t been helping Tadashi take care of himself either. Tadashi’s always been there for him, has helped him out of so many holes and built him back up when he was crushed and down... And he just let Tadashi slip by.
Because his feelings had gotten hurt. He’s known Tadashi’s sick. That he isn’t sleeping.
“If you feel bad,” Kuroo says, “You should do something about it. There isn’t any fixing what’s happened, but you can change going forward.”
Kei sinks into his chair, rubbing his face. “I don’t know what to do. He’s always come to me. Fixed it for us.”
“Start with small things,” Kenma answers. “It’s easiest like that.”
Kei picks up his phone and turns it in his hands. “I could go talk to him,” he says slowly.
“Nah,” Kuroo replies; “If you do it in public he’ll feel obligated to reciprocate. Bring him home some good food and tell him you’re sorry. Hold hands. Be cute. If he doesn’t want to do anything, respect it. He doesn’t have to forgive you.”
Kei’s mouth tastes bitter at the idea of Tadashi not forgiving him. He types a quick message to Tadashi, asking if he wanted a sandwich and dessert from their favorite cafe. He wonders if Tadashi will want to talk or wait until finals are over; he hopes he doesn’t have to wait that long. He wants to fix it.
Make sure Tadashi takes care of himself and relax while they go through exams. Sit down and talk it out. He doesn’t agree with everything Kuroo has said, but then again, he remembers saying the same thing about Kuroo’s advice about volleyball at age fifteen.
“Ah, wow, there’s the campus police,” Kuroo remarks. “I guess it’s serious?”
“They might just escort whoever home,” Kenma says. “To be safe. They have to show up if someone calls, you know.”
Kei doesn’t look up, finger hovering over the send button. “D... Do you think asking him if he wants pudding is okay?” He mumbles, feeling sixteen and new all over again, like he’s asking if a movie is an appropriate date venue.
“Does he like pudding?” Kuroo asks.
“Mm. Only vanilla caramel though,” Kei replies. “He’s odd. It’s cute.”
“I think it’s fine, then,” Kenma answers.
They fall silent as the library does. Kei can feel his face start to flush as he hits send on his text. He purposefully keeps his eyes averted from Tadashi’s station, mortified at what he’d just sent.
As time passes, the feeling only grows.
“He hasn’t replied,” Kei mutters, jiggling his leg. “We’re fucked. I’m fucked.”
Kuroo snickers, “Dude. He’s at work. Of course he won’t. I mean, what did you send?”
Before Kei can stop him, Kuroo reaches and snatches Kei’s phone from his hands.
“‘Would you like anything from the corner cafe? I can pick up pudding too; I want to talk & tell you I’m sorry. I love you&have a good shift’,” Kuroo reads. “Oh my god, lil’ baby glasses-kun has grown up and has emotions. …Oh geesh, your last text to him before was ‘fine I don’t care’? Jesus, Kei. No wonder he isn’t replying.”
Kei feels his face burn hotter and he rubs his eyes under his glasses. “Kuroo, stop,” he groans.
“Christ, it’s worse than you told us, these are cold,” Kuroo continues. “Oh hey, your phone is ringing— here. It’s an unknown.”
Kei rolls his eyes at Kuroo and taps the answer key. “Hello?”
An unfamiliar woman’s voice, cool and composed, answers him. “Excuse me, is this Tsukishima Kei? You’re listed as an emergency contact for Yamaguchi Tadashi, correct?”
Kei feels his heart stop, feels it sink into the pit of his stomach. “Correct,” he whispers. He turns away from Kuroo and Kenma, his face hot even though the rest of his body feels cold as ice. “This is he.”
“Can you state your phone number for confirmation and your relation to Yamaguchi-san?”
Kei rattles off his phone number, but stumbles over describing their relationship. They’d decided to be each other’s emergency contacts, since Tadashi’s family kicked him out and Kei’s family was in Miyagi. But they never worked out how to explain it in an emergency—they simply thought there would never be a need.
“I… um. I’m his—we live together, um. He has no family to notify in the area—ah, at all,” Kei corrects awkwardly. “Sort of. But I have his information, if needed. He’s allergic to penicillin, if you didn’t know—” He clamps his jaw closed, aware that he’s babbling.
He can hear Kuroo start to ask a question, but fall silent. He guesses Kenma hushed him. There’s a tentative touch against his shoulder.
“I’m calling to inform you that Yamaguchi-san has been admitted to hospital affiliated with your campus,” the woman says smoothly. “We have to wait for discharge until there’s someone to see him home.”
Kei feels the edges of his phone cut into his palm. His free hand is shaking against his knee. The crowd. The librarian who fell. Tadashi. It was Tadashi. “Um. Yes. I’ll be there as soon as I can. M…may I ask…what happened?”
“I can’t say over the phone, I’m sorry,” she answers.
“Yes… I… that’s okay. I’ll be on my way, thank you.”
He hangs up without seeing if the woman was finished speaking. He lets his phone drop to his lap and cups his hands over the back of his neck. He bends his head forward, leaning over his knees. He feels like he’s going to throw up. He is going to throw up.
Tadashi. His Tadashi. His boyfriend, his best friend—Tadashi was sick and in the hospital and Kei had been ignoring him for the past week. What if it hadn’t have been here? What if he’d passed out on the road, or at the train platform, somewhere where he could easily get hurt or couldn’t get help?
He was right there. Kei could have gotten up and talked to him. Gotten up and seen him. Brought him food, like he’s done before. Linger around his information desk until Tadashi has to shoo him away, laughing.
Tadashi had been right there. It had happened so close. And Kei hadn’t known. Hadn’t gotten up. Hadn’t moved. Had been worried but didn’t act on it.
“What happened?” Kenma asks, voice quiet. The touch increases in pressure against his shoulder, while still managing to be so slight it’s almost not there at all.
“It was Tadashi,” Kei croaks. “Earlier— it was—it was him. That was just the clinic—“
“Come on,” Kuroo says firmly.
At first Kei thinks Kuroo is dismissing him, again, but when he turns to snap at the other man, Kuroo’s stuffing his stuff into his bookbag. “I drove,” Kuroo says. “We’ll go together, because you look like shit and I know you walked here.”
Kei wants to snap back that he does not look like shit thank you, but he’s too weak to. He thinks that if he opens his mouth, he’ll vomit. Tadashi is in the hospital.
Tadashi could be hurt. Could be sick. Could have broken something. And Kei hadn’t been any wiser to it. It had happened in the same building, yards away, and Kei didn’t know. He’d helped it happen.
He’d known that Tadashi was overtired and overworked and wasn’t eating right. Wasn’t sleeping right. Because he’d been angry that he wasn’t the center of Tadashi’s universe anymore. Because he felt ignored and unhappy.
The ride to the clinic is quiet. Kei sits in the backseat, alone, hands folded tightly in his lap. He tries to avoid noticing the looks Kenma and Kuroo are giving him in the rearview during the short ride.
He clenches his fingers together so hard he can’t feel where one hand begins and the other ends. He holds them so they won’t tremble, even though his legs are shaking and his lips are twitching and he’s afraid.
Afraid that there’s something really wrong. Something that’s not fixable. That Tadashi will blame him like he deserves to be blamed, that he’s willfully wrecked something he wants—one of the few things he’s ever wanted badly enough to work for. That Tadashi won’t forgive him, won’t remember him, won’t listen to him.
He has to go alone to Tadashi’s room because it’s after hours and Tadashi isn’t awake to okay visitors that aren’t emergency contacts. The nurse is tiny next to Kei but she’s kind and her voice doesn’t grate on his nerves.
He sinks into a chair next to Tadashi’s bed as she explains that Tadashi was awake and alert when the police got to him at school, and walked in with an escort. That they’re watching for signs of a concussion and rehydrating him and treating for bronchitis. That it was a combination of overwork and fever that made him weak and he slipped and cracked his head against the carpeted floor. That he’s free to go once they confirm the absence of a concussion and the IV series is complete.
But all Kei sees is Tadashi, pale-faced and asleep with dark rings under his eyes in a hospital gown and an IV taped to his arm. The sweat that drips down his jaw. The way his face pinches even in sleep. The white cotton sheets tucked at his chest.
His hands shake again as he reaches out and gingerly cups Tadashi’s hand in his own. Tadashi’s fingers are cold against his, even though Tadashi is always, always, a walking furnace.
Kei’s heart flips uncomfortably in his chest, the even rise and fall of Tadashi’s chest not enough to chase away the sudden freezing fear that Tadashi was gone, unreachable. It must show on his face, because the nurse clears her throat softly.
“Sometimes the IV fluids will make your hand a little chilly. If you think he’s too cold, or wakes up chilled before the series is complete, there are more blankets in the cabinet beside the bed. The doctor will be around at shift change—the IV should be complete at that time, and it’s looking like Yamaguchi-san will be able to be discharged by then. He’ll be a bit woozy because of the medicine, which is why we called for you to escort him home,” she supplies.
Kei nods tightly, not trusting himself to pull his eyes from Tadashi. He hears the door close softly behind her, and just like that, it’s like the strings holding him upright are cut. He leans forward and puts his forehead against Tadashi’s cold hand and shudders.
He fights against the urge to sob, once, twice, then a third time before it escapes his throat, a quiet desperate gasp of air with a hitch of his voice. He clamps his jaw shut against it, body quaking under the effort.
The hand against his skin twitches and Kei scrambles up, fingers tight against Tadashi’s.
“…skki?”
“Tashi,” Kei breathes heavily, pressing the hand to his cheek. He forgoes the chair and sets himself on the edge of Tadashi’s bed, heart aching as he watches Tadashi stir and look at him with bleary eyes.
“You’re crying?” Tadashi asks sleepily.
“No,” Kei says stubbornly, pressing his lips to Tadashi’s knuckles. “No. Tashi, god, you scared me—”
“Tsukki,” Tadashi sighs softly. He closes his eyes again. His lips form a tight pained line, and Kei squeezes Tadashi’s hand tightly. “Tsukki, I think there’s something wrong with me.”
“You’re in the hospital, you fell, remember? You’re sick, too,” Kei says softly, rubbing his thumbs into the base of Tadashi’s palm gently, trying to warm it. “It’ll be okay.”
Tadashi opens his eyes again, and looks at him with clarity that wasn’t there before. Kei swallows past the ice in his throat as Tadashi shakes his head.
“More than that,” Tadashi answers. “I can’t settle, I’m always scared. I can’t sleep. My chest always hurts, past just having a cough. Something’s wrong with me. I don’t know what it is, I’m too scared… I’m too scared to look, Tsukki.”
Kei’s stomach flips at the blatant fear and uncertainty in Tadashi’s tone; it isn’t as if he hasn’t noticed the change either. It scares him because it scares Tadashi. But it’s another worry for another day, he decides— they have enough to worry about now.
Kei reaches out and smoothes Tadashi’s hair away from his face. “Hey, we’ll… we’ll work through it, I promise. Don’t worry about it for now,” he murmurs. “We’ll work it out. Right now, go back to sleep.”
“Sleep with me?” Tadashi asks softly, voice small. “I miss you.”
Kei squeezes Tadashi’s hand. “Yeah, yeah I will. I’m sorry, I miss you too. I’m sorry it got like this,” he whispers.
He pulls his legs up into the bed and wraps an arm around Tadashi’s shoulders, letting Tadashi lean his head against his chest. He rubs Tadashi’s arm with his thumb, dropping his cheek to Tadashi’s hair.
It’s enough for now.
Whatever it is that Tadashi’s worried about, Kei knows that they’ll work through it.
He resolves to make himself work harder to communicate with Tadashi, to tell him things, to find things he can find fulfillment in outside of Tadashi so Tadashi can do his own things when he needs to. The weight against his side is enough to tell Kei they’ll work it out. He’s still worried, still upset, but it’s smoothed knowing that they have the potential to be okay. The weight of Tadashi against his side is enough to tell him that.
“Sleep, Tashi,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk once you’ve slept.”
“I love you,” Tadashi whispers.
“I love you, too,” Kei murmurs.
Tadashi is quiet for a long moment, long enough that Kei thinks he’s dozed back off before he shifts suddenly to look up at Kei. “Do I still get pudding, though?”
Kei freezes, then laughs. “Oh, god, you saw that?”
“Yeah, I unlocked my phone for the nurses. They wouldn’t let me call you myself, sorry. Policy.”
“It’s fine, and yes,” Kei says, chuckling as he gives Tadashi a gentle squeeze. “You can get pudding. I promise, I’ll buy lots.”
“Only the good kind,” Tadashi yawns.
“Only the good kind,” Kei repeats as Tadashi relaxes against his side. Soon enough, Tadashi begins to snore lightly, leaving Kei alone in the dimly lit room. He closes his eyes as well, breathing out in a slow sigh of exhaustion. They’ll get along fine, they’ll get along just fine. It’s just going to be hard work and a lot of learning.
The things the most worthwhile always seem to be, he thinks.