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There will inevitably be some things that are harder to do than others.
Loving Tsukishim Kei? Easy. So easy. Like it had always been in Yamaguchi's nature to fall in love with him. Like it was his fate to.
However, accepting those feelings and eventually confessing to said person? Virtually impossible.
That's what the letters were for.
They were supposed to be a healthy way for Yamaguchi to process his romantic feelings for Tsukki after repressing them for the majority of their friendship. In hindsight, he could see how his denial had led him astray several times, to where he thought he had harbored feelings for Akiteru, Hinata, and even Ushijima from Shiratorizawa at one point.
He had figured it out eventually with the help of Yachi, who was his biggest confidant with matters of the heart. In fact, it had been she who had suggested that Yamaguchi use writing to understand his complicated emotions towards his best friend during one of their many phone conversations.
“I always journal when I’m feeling anxious about something,” Yachi had said that night. “Maybe it could help you, too.”
This is where it had all started. With Yamaguchi saying that he’d think about it, and then a few weeks later, with him sitting down at his desk with a sigh and pen in hand. The sheet of paper in front of him stared back, empty and daunting.
How exactly did one start journaling anyway? Did you start with niceties, as one would in a conversation with an acquaintance, talking about the weather or what you’d had for lunch earlier that day? Should he refer to the journal itself, like in a ‘Dear Diary’ situation, or to Tsukki, like he was actually going to be reading these one day? He didn’t know.
It had felt awkward, having the thoughts that were previously safe in the back corners of his mind written down and physically in front of him to read and reread until he couldn’t deny anymore that he was in love.
His first “letter” ended up being half a page long, with whole sentences crossed out, and ramblings that he refused to look back at. And to make sure that was the case, Yamaguchi had sealed the paper into a crisp, white envelope with Tsukki’s name hastily scrawled on to identify its contents. Then, he had stuffed it haphazardly in the back of his desk drawer, never to see the light of day again.
The letters had him acting strange for a few weeks: looking over his shoulder constantly, searching his empty room for hidden cameras or intruders that were waiting to use his words against him, and he would practically jump out of his skin if Tsukki worded anything in a way that implied that he knew about their existence. Any meaningful glance or ominous conversation starter had Yamaguchi sweating bullets, which had strained their friendship for a time.
As he got used to relaying his feelings on paper, though, the words started flowing more easily, and with each session, he was connecting more and more things to his crush on Tsukki.
Through those letters, Yamaguchi admitted to himself that his other crushes had only been projections. He recounted how his heart would pound every time he went over to Tsukki’s house to hang out, thinking it was the fault of Akiteru, who smiled kindly and praised him. Back then, he’d thought it was strange that his heart didn’t let up its hammering, even after the high schooler disappeared into his room to finish his homework. He wrote:
At ten, I already knew. But you were my friend, and it felt more acceptable to have a puppy crush on him than to be in love with you.
In another, Yamaguchi talked about how he thought Tsukki’s fake laugh was silly, but that he liked his real laugh even more. He reiterated his compliment about how he looked really cool with the sports glasses Akiteru had bought him a few weeks back, even if he had already said so in person. He wrote about how it would feel to run his hands through his blonde hair, and what it would look like if he ever grew it out:
Between me and this letter, I think you would look quite handsome.
And it was a common occurrence in the letters that Yamaguchi complained about the girls who came up to him, asking to give the blonde their love letter because they didn’t dare to do it themselves. Even with being so bitter about it, he couldn't deny that those girls still had more courage than he would ever have:
I’m jealous that they can confess so freely. I want to turn them away. I want to tell them that I know you best, that they’re not serious about you. But I can’t. All I can do is smile and promise that their feelings will reach you.
It seems, when it comes to you, I can only be a coward.
If he had anyone to blame, it was Yachi for putting the darned idea into his head that he could write anonymous letters to his crush and no one would find out. No one was ever supposed to know about those letters, much less read them, except for him and maybe the ghost that had made itself at home in the corner of his room.
If that was the case, then why was Yamaguchi opening his front door when he hadn’t been expecting visitors, only to see Tsukki shifting awkwardly where he stood? He was always happy to see the blonde, and he was about to say so, until he had spotted what he was holding in his hand: a dozen or so white envelopes with his familiar scrawl of handwriting that suspiciously looked like the letters he religiously stashed away from prying eyes.
His fears are only solidified when Tsukki tilts his head like he’s trying to figure something out but can’t, and asks the most dreaded question to be asked by your best friend.
“Are you in love with me?”
Oh god, this can’t be happening, Yamaguchi thinks as his stomach rolls with waves of nausea. But it is happening, and he’s floundering.
“I–with you…? Umm…”
Just say something, dammit.
But Yamaguchi’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, and the back of his throat starts hurting as he resists the urge to cry.
“N—”
“Don’t lie to me.” Tsukki glares, offended that Yamaguchi even tried to. His lips curl into the scowl he’s seen and loved since he was ten. Over the years, its power has dulled with how frequently he's been witness to it, but it’s still intimidating enough that Yamaguchi doesn’t try to lie again.
Instead, he pivots. “I didn’t write my name on them.”
Tsukki gives him a look usually reserved for Hinata and Kageyama—the resident idiot duo of Karasuno—and yet it’s aimed at him because he’s being stupid, and he knows he’s being stupid, but he can’t help it.
This is not how Yamaguchi wanted things to go down, if at all. He would have spent his whole life loving Tsukki and being content with only being his best friend, but somehow, through magic or a curse, the pages that contained the physical contents of his heart had dropped into the lap of the person he least wanted to see them. Life was too cruel.
“How long do you think I've known you? I’d recognize your handwriting anywhere.”
Yamaguchi curses inwardly. He knew he should have typed them out, but Yachi had insisted on the letters being handwritten.
“It just gives it more personality, you know?”
He thought he had known. All that personality had come back to bite him in the ass, and now he was being confronted by his best friend about having feelings for him.
Yamaguchi releases a shaky sigh and steels his nerves as best he can. Even so, he can’t muster up enough courage to look into Tsukki’s eyes when he finally tells the truth.
“Yeah,” He says quietly. “I do.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tsukki demands, as if any change in Yamaguchi’s feelings should be reported immediately back to him.
It irritates Yamaguchi to no end. Jerk.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he huffs, with a cross of his arms over his chest. He knows that the blonde would want to get a word in, but Yamaguchi doesn’t let him. He pushes through. “And for your information, it’s actually really hard to be in love with your best friend.”
Yamaguchi had just been angry a moment ago, but now his lip was wobbling again. If he didn’t leave right this second, he would cry in front of Tsukki. Still avoiding his best friend's questioning eyes, he mumbles a quick goodbye while simultaneously trying to close the door in the blonde’s face until—
“I don’t think it is.”
Yamaguchi barely catches what he says, and his heart leaps into his throat. “... What?” He asks numbly.
It’s only then that he gains the courage to look through the crack of the barely open door, and gasps when he sees that Tsukki’s cheeks are flushed, and his hands, which hold his letters, are slightly trembling at his side. Furthermore, his brows are in that permanent furrow that always has Yamaguchi's fingers itching to reach over and smooth out, and it looks like he's having trouble picking out the right words to say.
To reject him as gently as possible, maybe. Yamaguchi’s heart sinks back down into his stomach.
“I said,” The blonde's voice cracks, and he rushes to clear his throat as his blush deepens. “I don’t think it’s hard… at all to be in love with you. In fact, it was so easy that I almost didn’t notice.”
Hold the phone. Did Tsukki just admit to being in love with him? Yamaguchi’s brain can’t compute fast enough; maybe he’s misheard. It’s a possibility that it would be the case rather than anything else.
He looks into Tsukki’s eyes for confirmation or correction—for anything—which, unlike his shaking hands, are steadily looking back at him. They do not stray for even a second.
“Tadashi,” He practically whispers, leaning in to put his hand on the door and stop Yamaguchi from closing it further on him. “Let me in.”
The walk up the stairs to Yamaguchi’s room is silent, maybe. He wouldn’t know because the blood rushing past his ears is too loud for him to hear anything else.
Once they reach his room, he promptly takes a seat on the bed and motions for Tsukki to take the chair. Instead, though, his best friend sits down right next to him. He sits close enough to Yamaguchi that he feels the heat emanating from his body. He’s too close, and so much has been revealed in such a short amount of time that he can't stop his body from mechanically jumping up from the bed to occupy the chair for himself.
Tsukki’s lucky that Yamaguchi only does that, because he has half a mind to bolt out the door, even if they are in his house and in his room. He only feels a little guilty when Tsukki sighs, and is more relieved that there’s no room for the blonde to sidle up against him in his new seat.
There they sit, with Yamaguchi finding great interest in the rip in his jeans and with Tsukki staring a hole into his face. And Yamaguchi thinks it’s better like this—to pass an eternity not saying anything to each other and not having to clarify certain love confessions, but Tsukki disagrees because he confesses again.
“I love you.” Yamaguchi lifts his eyes. Blinks. Clearly, he's unconvinced. Tsukki makes a face in response.
“I love you,” He repeats firmly. Yamaguchi's ears fill with cotton, and he feels dizzy all of a sudden.
“I love—”
“I heard you the first time, you know!” Yamaguchi finally cries out in agony. It’s too much. He fears his heart might stop if his best friend says it again.
“Did you believe me the first time?” Tsukki asks with another incredulous raise of his brow, but he’s smiling now. Amusement dances in his eyes, and maybe something else. Yamaguchi turns to hide the red that colors his cheeks and huffs again.
“Stop making fun of me,” He mutters under his breath.
“Hey, you know I would never play around with something like this. Not with you.”
Yamaguchi tries to keep his face void of expression, too numb, and still too untrusting of the words that are coming out of the blonde’s mouth.
“Tadashi,” Tsukki says lowly, while pushing himself off the bed and inching forward until he’s kneeling right in front of him. “You have something to tell me, don’t you.”
Yamaguchi is honestly proud of how many times he's stopped himself from crying throughout this whole thing, but he feels the familiar buildup, and he knows that he won't be able to hold back this time.
“Do I have to?” He pleads. Frustrated tears sting his eyes.
Tsukki only hums as he rests his arms on either side of Yamaguchi, caging him in. He truly had nowhere to go. “You don’t, but I want you to try.”
“I—” The words automatically get caught in his throat. Growing for over half a decade inside of Yamaguchi, they were now too big to escape from within.
Tsukki only stares him down the bridge of his nose, eyes unblinking. Unrelenting.
“I-I… you… Since forever, I think…” He sobs out.
Tsukki lifts a hand to hold his face, rubbing at the newly shed tears that slide down his freckled cheeks. It’s still embarrassing to cry in front of Tsukki, especially since after this moment passes, he’ll probably never hear the end of it. Right now, though, the blonde is tender as he smiles softly and encourages him to release several years' worth of bottled-up emotions.
“Tsukki, I… me too… Love you—so much…” It almost feels wrong to say it. How he felt was never meant to be spoken aloud, but it’s in the room, and fills it with promise.
The words all together and in that order get stuck in his throat every time, but Tsukki understands. Tsukki knows.
“Yeah,” Their foreheads touch as the blonde leans in so close that all Yamaguchi can see is into Tsukki’s eyes. “Me too.”
Yamaguchi does what is probably the bravest thing he has done in all his sixteen years of living. He closes the distance and kisses him.