Work Text:
Rain pounded against the metal paneling of the gym's roof. It had been long since the others left.
Save for Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.
They'd been tasked with cleaning and locking up the gym before leaving. Naturally, they lagged behind the others. The balls were stacked into their respective carts, the wooden flooring sparkled against the lights overhead, and the gym was dark. The windows up above invited the only source of light in; the bright yet cloudy sky outside.
Tadashi sat with his freckled knees to his chest and his back against the wall beside the door. There wasn't much he could do but wait for the rain to subside. So there he sat, his cheek resting lopsidedly against the valley of his knees. An arm’s-length away, Kei drummed a rhythm into his own rosy knee. His fingertips tapped away, and all Tadashi could hear was the familiar tinny buzz of his cheap headphones.
Over the years, he's heard that hum more than Kei’s voice.
Yet, he never got bored. He never got bored of not talking. He didn't mind walking home without a word so long as Kei was there. He got used to the silence, the coldness in public, the sharp-tongued remarks. It was the little things for him.
His eyes stayed glued on Kei’s profile unconsciously. Tadashi nearly jumped out of his skin when their eyes met. But Kei’s usually tense gaze softened. This wasn't Tsukishima; this was Tsukki. Instead of scoffing at him like he would with the team, he chuckled at how startled Tadashi was and scooted closer. Their knees brushed gently, and instead of jerking his body away, Kei’s legs seemed to lean into his naturally. Tadashi felt an earbud slip into his ear unprompted, and they let the sound of the soft guitar float between them until the rain faded into a light drizzle.
The gym was locked, and the two set off homeward under the cloudy, navy blue sky. Tadashi watched Kei’s glasses slip down his nose as he nodded his head along to his music. He noticed the way the white light of the lampposts reflect off his pale skin as they passed the shops and nearby homes. Tadashi talks, and talks, and talks, about all sorts of things all the way. Kei never responds, of course, but he listens. And that's enough when no one else will. As they reach an intersection, he feels Kei’s fingers graze against his when he begins to turn the corner towards home, as if he doesn't want to let go.
“Tsukki, I have to go—”
“Stay. Just for a while.”
Kei spoke firmly, but his voice wasn't as even as it usually is. His words wavered, something hidden slipping through. And of course, Tadashi couldn't say no. Their fingers curled together, fitting like puzzle pieces. Their hands intertwined like they were born to hold each other and they continued to tread through the dim streets.
Soon, they'd reached a playground, deserted in the dusk. The one they'd met in. Tadashi still remembered the burning of his knees as he was shoved into the gravel. The many fond moments they spent here with each other outweighed the hurtful memories from bullies and mean comments from Tsukishima himself.
But that wasn't his Tsukki. Of course not.
They rested on the swings, finally letting go of each other to hold the cold metal chains. Tadashi stared at the gravel beneath them. His feet still didn't touch the ground.
“So… what’s up, Tsukki?” He prodded.
Before he knew it, a familiar soft click sounded beside him. The unmistakable hot red flicker of a flame hovered over the rusted black lighter in Kei’s grip. A cigarette lounged between his lips as if it belonged there. Tadashi’s eyes flicked up at Kei in disbelief. Kei lifted his thumb off the lighter and rummaged in his coat pocket for something.
Another cigarette. It sat between his fingers as he extended his hand towards Tadashi, offering it up to him as if it were a piece of candy. Tadashi’s eyes only grew wide as he glanced between the cigarette and the face of the man holding it.
“Tsukki, I thought we agreed on quitting. We promised. We promised, didn't we?”
“You're not gonna refuse a cig, are you, Tadashi?”
The question hung in the air, accompanied by silence and the wind combing through branches of trees. The warmth in his core seemed to have turned frigid as he stared at Kei’s hand. His hand, shakier than ever, deftly took it and slipped it between his own lips. Kei could only smirk. The guilt washed over Tadashi as their faces leaned in towards each other. Tsukishima’s nimble fingers flicked the lighter to life as the flame danced between them. His eyes were fixed on the tips of their cigarettes that were bitten black by the fire.
But Tadashi’s eyes were fixed on him. The way the orange swirled in the reflection of eyes was almost as enchanting as the smoke that curled around them both. It cupped the contours of Kei’s face gently. Tadashi could feel Kei exhale through his nose, the warm breath brushing over the both of them. Their eyes met once again. And for a moment, they were so close, closer than they'd ever been before. The guilt that was eating at Tadashi from the inside was replaced by a heated flutter, just for a split second.
And as quickly as it came, it left.
The flame died under the autumn breeze. Kei had leaned away, taking a long drag as he stared out at the colorful play equipment aimlessly. The familiar, smoky scent filling Tadashi’s lungs couldn't replace the warmth he felt.
It didn't matter how many stolen glances, secret touches, or quiet walks home the two shared. The years had meant so much but so little all at once. It was then Tadashi realized that Kei Tsukishima will always be the Kei Tsukishima that everyone else knows.
“Tsukki” only came out in the form of almost-confessions and tender touches they only shared once they were alone. The “Tsukki” that Tadashi craved so badly, that sweet soft spot beneath the hardened surface, won't let himself get burnt again.
That sweet soft spot crawled back into Kei once again, as Kei forced himself to avert his gaze. The two of them felt the same raging heart beat in their chest. The same fluttering in their core. The same warmth in their cheeks.
It's just that one stood for unrelenting adoration, while the other came out of crippling, hair-raising fear.