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THE SILENCE THAT STARTED IT ALL
(a.k.a. Patient Zero Returns)
Kuroo Tetsurou had not been to Karasuno in three weeks.
This, in itself, was not illegal.
It was, however, deeply suspicious.
Tsukishima noticed it on the fourth day.
Not consciously. Not in a way he wanted to acknowledge. It was more like a quiet wrongness in the air—the kind that crept in when something habitual failed to happen. No stupid text lighting up his phone during cooldown. No familiar voice calling him “moonshine” across the gym. No insufferable presence leaning into his space like personal boundaries were a myth.
He told himself it was fine.
Kuroo was in college now. Kuroo had midterms. Kuroo had adult responsibilities. Kuroo was, allegedly, being a responsible human being for once in his life.
Tsukishima hated this development.
He pretended he didn’t notice.
Which, unfortunately, did not stop everyone else from noticing.
Hinata noticed first.
This was unfortunate for everyone.
“Hey,” Hinata said during water break, peering around the gym like he expected Kuroo to pop out from behind the bleachers. “Where’s Kuroo-san?”
Tsukishima took a long sip of water. “At school.”
Hinata blinked. “Like… regular school?”
“College,” Tsukishima corrected flatly.
“Oh.” Hinata nodded, then frowned. “But he’s usually here by now.”
“He’s busy,” Tsukishima said. “Some people have lives.”
Hinata tilted his head. “You sound mad.”
“I am not mad.”
“But you do sound mad.”
“I sound correct.”
Yamaguchi, stretching nearby, glanced over. “He hasn’t visited in a while, though.”
Tsukishima shot him a look. “Traitor.”
“I’m just saying,” Yamaguchi said carefully. “He used to come, like, every week.”
Tsukishima shrugged. “People get busy.”
Hinata’s brain, unfortunately, did not stop there.
Hinata’s brain never stopped.
“So, like—” Hinata hesitated, voice lowering in a way that suggested he was about to commit a social crime. “You guys didn’t… fight, right?”
Tsukishima stared at him. “…Why would we fight?”
Hinata shrugged helplessly. “I dunno! He’s not here, and you’re quieter, and you didn’t even insult him today!”
“That’s because he’s not here to insult,” Tsukishima snapped. “Do you want me to insult you instead?”
Hinata brightened. “Yes!”
“No.”
Yamaguchi sighed. “Hinata, you can’t just assume things.”
“I’m not assuming!” Hinata said quickly. “I’m just… noticing.”
Tsukishima gave him a flat look. “You noticed nothing.”
Hinata nodded. “Okay. I noticed nothing.”
Five seconds passed.
“…But what if he’s avoiding you,” Hinata blurted.
The gym went quiet in the way it did when someone said something that could not be taken back.
Tsukishima’s jaw tightened.
“He’s not avoiding me,” he said, evenly.
Hinata immediately panicked. “I’M NOT SAYING HE IS. I’M JUST SAYING IF HE WAS, THAT WOULD BE SAD, BUT HE’S PROBABLY NOT, AND ALSO YOU’RE BOTH TERRIBLE AT TEXTING BACK, SO—”
“Hinata,” Yamaguchi said gently, “stop digging.”
“I’M TRYING TO HELP,” Hinata said. “This is how rumors start.”
Tsukishima stared at him.
“…What did you just say?”
Hinata froze.
“I— I mean— I’m not starting a rumor! I’m just— people might think— like— if someone didn’t know better—”
Tsukishima pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are banned from thinking out loud.”
Hinata looked wounded. “But thinking out loud is my whole personality.”
From the far end of the gym, one of the first-years whispered to another, “Isn’t Kuroo that Nekoma guy who’s always here?”
“Yeah,” the other whispered back. “He hasn’t been around lately.”
Tsukishima’s eye twitched.
He didn’t look bothered.
He absolutely was bothered.
Not because of Kuroo.
Definitely not because of Kuroo.
It was just… annoying.
That people noticed.
That people talked.
That the absence felt louder than the presence ever had.
Yamaguchi glanced at Tsukishima. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Tsukishima said automatically.
Hinata squinted at him. “You don’t look fine.”
“I don’t look anything.”
“You look like when you’re pretending you don’t care.”
“I do not pretend.”
“You pretend all the time,” Hinata said. “You pretend you don’t care about volleyball. You pretend you don’t care about Kuroo-san. You pretend you don’t care about us—”
Tsukishima pointed his water bottle at Hinata. “Finish that sentence and I will end you.”
Hinata shut up.
The damage, unfortunately, was already done.
Later that afternoon, someone in the locker room asked Tsukishima if he was okay.
He said yes.
Someone else patted his shoulder like he was in mourning.
He told them to stop touching him.
By the time practice ended, the air around him felt… off.
Not heavy.
Just curious.
Watching.
Tsukishima shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked out of the gym.
Kuroo still hadn’t texted him today.
He told himself that didn’t matter.
It didn’t.
It shouldn’t.
But somewhere behind him, Hinata whispered to Yamaguchi, “Do you think they broke up?”
Tsukishima stopped walking.
Slowly, he turned around.
“…Say that again,” he said sweetly.
Hinata paled.
And just like that, a new rumor was born.
THE RUMOR MUTATES
(a.k.a. Karasuno Discovers Group Delusion + Tsukishima & Kageyama Bond Over Slander)
By the next morning, Tsukishima Kei was apparently going through a breakup.
This was news to Tsukishima.
He learned about it when Yachi handed him a juice box.
“…Why,” Tsukishima asked slowly, staring at the little cartoon apple on the side, “are you giving me pity juice.”
Yachi blinked. “It’s not pity! I just thought you might… need emotional support hydration.”
“I do not require emotionally charged beverages.”
Hinata hovered behind her, eyes wide and glistening with secondhand guilt.
“Do you want a banana too?”
Tsukishima’s eye twitched. “Why would I want a banana.”
“For… feelings,” Hinata offered weakly.
Yamaguchi turned very slowly.
“Why are we giving Tsukishima breakup snacks.”
Hinata panicked. “I DIDN’T SAY THEY BROKE UP. I JUST SAID KUROO-SAN HASN’T BEEN HERE IN A WHILE AND TSUKISHIMA LOOKED KINDA SAD AND THEN SOMEONE SAID ‘OH NO’ AND THEN IT FELT TRUE.”
“That is literally how rumors are born,” Yamaguchi said, dead inside.
“I KNOW. I SAID THAT LAST TIME TOO.”
Tsukishima set the juice box down very carefully.
“Who,” he asked in a terrifyingly calm voice, “thinks Kuroo and I broke up.”
Silence.
Then, from across the gym:
“I heard college gets busy…”
“Long-distance is hard.”
“People grow apart.”
Tsukishima stared at the wall.
“…I hate all of you.”
This was bad.
But it got worse.
By lunch, Tsukishima’s classmates were giving him looks.
Not concerned looks.
The looks people give when they think they know something personal about you and are trying to be respectful about it but failing horribly.
Someone patted his desk.
“Stay strong,” they whispered.
“…For what.”
“Oh. You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what.”
“…Never mind.”
They fled.
Tsukishima closed his book and rested his forehead against it.
This was hell.
Then someone confessed to him.
“I know you’re… newly single,” the girl said, fidgeting, “and you probably need time, but—”
“I am not single,” Tsukishima said flatly.
Her soul left her body.
“I’M SO SORRY I THOUGHT—”
“Everyone is wrong,” Tsukishima replied.
She ran.
Tsukishima contemplated walking into traffic.
Later, during practice, he was quieter than usual.
Not his normal quiet.
His “I am being perceived and I hate it” quiet.
He missed a block.
No one commented.
That made it worse.
Kageyama noticed.
Which was unfortunate, because Kageyama Tobio notices things in the worst way possible.
After drills, Kageyama walked over and stood there like a broken NPC.
“…People are saying things,” Kageyama said.
Tsukishima didn’t look at him. “Congratulations on learning about gossip.”
“They think you and Kuroo broke up.”
“I am aware. Karasuno is apparently a misinformation factory now.”
Kageyama frowned deeply, like he was trying to debug the concept of rumors.
“You didn’t,” he said.
Tsukishima glanced at him. “…What.”
“You didn’t break up,” Kageyama clarified. “You would be worse if you did.”
Tsukishima paused.
“…Excuse me?”
“You would be angrier,” Kageyama said seriously. “You’d snap at everyone. You’d stop staying late. You’d pretend you don’t care, but you’d care too much. You’re just… irritated right now.”
Tsukishima stared at him.
This was uncomfortably accurate.
“…I hate that you can read me,” Tsukishima muttered.
Kageyama shrugged. “You’re bad at hiding things.”
“That’s slander.”
“You sigh louder when you’re upset,” Kageyama added. “And you don’t correct people. When you’re actually hurt, you correct everyone.”
Tsukishima exhaled slowly.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You’ve unlocked emotional pattern recognition.”
Kageyama nodded like this was an achievement.
“…Do you want me to tell them they’re wrong,” Kageyama asked.
Tsukishima considered it.
“No,” he said finally. “Let them suffer in ignorance.”
“That’s fair.”
They stood there in mutual, deeply awkward solidarity.
Two former victims of the rumor mill.
Tsukishima spoke again, quieter.
“He’s just busy.”
Kageyama nodded. “College is stupid. Too much homework. Not enough volleyball.”
“…He’ll come back,” Tsukishima added, mostly to himself.
Kageyama looked at him. “He will. He’s annoying like that.”
Tsukishima huffed a weak laugh.
That was the most comforting thing Kageyama Tobio could possibly say.
Later, Yamaguchi walked them both home.
“You good?” Yamaguchi asked Tsukishima.
“I am being slandered on multiple social levels,” Tsukishima replied.
“That tracks.”
Hinata jogged to catch up, hands waving frantically.
“I’M REALLY SORRY. I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO ESCALATE. I THOUGHT IT WOULD JUST… DIE.”
“You thought wrong,” Tsukishima said. “You are Patient Zero.”
Hinata bowed at a ninety-degree angle. “I ACCEPT MY SINS.”
Kageyama added helpfully, “You start a lot of disasters.”
Hinata: “WHY ARE YOU AGAINST ME.”
Tsukishima stared up at the darkening sky.
He wasn’t heartbroken.
He wasn’t abandoned.
But the absence felt louder than it should.
And that annoyed him most of all.
Somewhere far away, blissfully unaware that his temporary absence had triggered emotional chaos, Kuroo Tetsurou sneezed.
Tsukishima hoped it was inconvenient.
THE THIRD GYM ALLIANCE RESPONDS TO A BREAKUP EMERGENCY (THAT NEVER HAPPENED)
The doors SLAMMED open.
“TSUKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!”
Bokuto Koutarou burst into the gym like he was responding to a natural disaster. Arms flailing. Voice echoing off the walls. Zero regard for structural integrity.
“TSUKI TSUKI OVER HERE TSUKI ARE YOU ALIVE DO YOU NEED PROTEIN OR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT OR BOTH—”
Akaashi followed immediately behind him, bowing apologetically to the entire gym like this was, somehow, everyone’s fault. “Sorry. Bokuto-san heard you were ‘going through something.’”
Kenma shuffled in last, already exhausted. “I told them the rumor didn’t make sense.”
Behind them—
Kuroo Tetsurou walked in.
And immediately clocked the Vibes.
The weird looks.
The awkward pauses.
Yamaguchi freezing mid-sip of water.
Hinata looking like he was about to confess to a crime.
Tsukishima standing there like he’d been personally victimized by gossip.
“…Why,” Kuroo asked slowly, “do I feel like I died and no one told me.”
Silence.
Tsukishima stared at him.
Bokuto gasped dramatically.
“TSUKI YOUR EX IS HERE.”
“He is NOT my ex,” Tsukishima snapped.
Kuroo blinked. “…My what.”
Akaashi winced.
“…There’s been a misunderstanding.”
Kenma pointed at Hinata.
“It started with him.”
Hinata immediately raised both hands.
“I JUST SAID YOU HAVEN’T VISITED IN A WHILE AND TSUKISHIMA LOOKED SAD AND THEN EVERYONE DECIDED YOU BROKE UP—”
Kuroo turned slowly to Tsukishima.
“…You looked sad?”
Tsukishima deadpanned.
“I look like this when you’re not here.”
Kuroo’s face softened for half a second—
Then immediately sharpened.
“…Did someone confess to you.”
Tsukishima froze.
Yamaguchi made a small, betrayed noise.
Hinata gasped.
“WAIT HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT—”
Kuroo’s eyes narrowed with predatory delight.
“Someone. Confessed. To my boyfriend.”
Bokuto dropped to his knees.
“OH MY GOD THIS IS BETTER THAN TV.”
Kenma pulled out his phone.
“I’m recording for historical accuracy.”
Tsukishima snapped, “Stop being dramatic.”
“WHO WAS IT,” Kuroo demanded, already rolling up imaginary sleeves.
“A classmate,” Tsukishima said flatly. “Because apparently I give off ‘newly single’ energy now.”
Kuroo made a sound between a laugh and a threat.
“Oh. I’ve been too subtle.”
And then he did the worst possible thing.
He crossed the gym in three steps, grabbed Tsukishima by the front of his jacket, and kissed his cheek.
Not gentle.
Not soft.
Deliberate.
Loud.
In front of God and Karasuno.
Several first-years dropped their balls.
Yamaguchi dropped his clipboard again.
Hinata screamed into his hands.
Kageyama turned red out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.
Kuroo leaned in close, voice low and smug.
“Just so we’re clear. We didn’t break up. I’m just busy being a functioning college student. Unfortunately.”
Tsukishima’s ears were red.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“You say that every time I flirt with you in public.”
“I say that because you deserve it.”
Bokuto clapped wildly.
“THIS IS THIRD GYM ALLIANCE LOVE SUPPORT.”
Akaashi nodded seriously.
“This is not in the handbook.”
Kenma deadpanned.
“This is why rumors exist. You behave like a scandal.”
Kuroo wrapped an arm around Tsukishima’s waist and smiled sweetly at the gym.
“Hi, everyone. I’m alive. I’m still dating Tsukishima. If you’ve been offering condolences, please redirect them to my finals week.”
Tsukishima hissed, “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely,” Kuroo said. “Apparently people thought I fumbled you.”
“You did fumble me,” Tsukishima said. “You just haven’t dropped me.”
Kuroo beamed.
“That’s my brand.”
Kageyama, quietly to Tsukishima:
“…I told you he’d come back. He’s annoying like that.”
Tsukishima glanced at him.
“…Thanks.”
Kuroo squinted.
“Are you bonding over slander.”
“Yes,” Tsukishima said. “He’s my emotional support setter.”
Kuroo immediately wrapped his other arm around Tsukishima.
“Absolutely not. I am your emotional support disaster.”
Tsukishima sighed.
Bokuto pointed dramatically.
“THIRD GYM ALLIANCE SUCCESSFULLY PREVENTED A BREAKUP THAT NEVER HAPPENED.”
Akaashi bowed again.
“We’re glad you’re okay.”
Kenma typed something into his phone.
“Group chat update: Rumor officially debunked. Kuroo is still insufferable.”
Kuroo squeezed Tsukishima’s waist.
And Tsukishima—didn’t pull away.
KUROO TETSUROU MAKES IT EVERYONE’S PROBLEM (ON PURPOSE)
“Okay,” Bokuto said, clapping his hands together like a cartoon villain about to ruin someone’s day.
“NOW THAT THE BREAKUP THAT NEVER HAPPENED HAS BEEN EMOTIONALLY RESOLVED—”
Tsukishima: “It wasn’t emotionally resolved.”
“—LET’S PLAY A PRACTICE MATCH.”
The gym froze.
Yamaguchi opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked toward the sidelines where Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei stood.
Ukai had already lit a cigarette.
Takeda was sipping tea.
Neither of them moved.
They had clearly accepted their fate.
“…Coach?” Yamaguchi asked weakly.
Ukai exhaled smoke. “They’re already here.”
Takeda nodded. “And they are, unfortunately, very good practice.”
Yamaguchi sagged.
“…Okay. Monsters on the other side again. Got it.”
Bokuto whooped.
“FREE HIGH-LEVEL SCRIMMAGE BABY.”
Akaashi bowed politely. “We’ll try not to traumatize the first-years.”
Kenma had already claimed the libero spot like he lived there now.
Kuroo turned to Tsukishima with a grin that promised crimes.
“Oh, you’re playing with me on the other side,” he said sweetly.
“Can’t have you thinking you can escape me just because you’re at home.”
Tsukishima: “I absolutely can escape you.”
Kuroo leaned in.
“You could. But you won’t.”
Tsukishima’s jaw tightened.
“I hate you.”
“You don’t,” Kuroo said. “You glare like that when you’re flustered.”
Kenma added, “He does the same face when you text him at 2 a.m.”
Tsukishima: “I am surrounded by traitors.”
They split teams.
Third Gym Alliance plus a few unlucky Karasuno non-starters on one side.
Karasuno’s usual lineup on the other.
Bokuto immediately started bouncing on his toes.
“TSUKI. I’M GONNA SPIKE AT YOU.”
Tsukishima adjusted his glasses.
“Please try.”
The match started.
And Kuroo became unbearable on purpose.
“Nice receive, Tsukki.”
“Your block timing’s so pretty today.”
“Careful with that landing, babe.”
Tsukishima nearly missed a step.
“STOP COMMENTATING ON MY FORM.”
“I’m your boyfriend,” Kuroo said. “It’s my civic duty.”
Kageyama glared.
“Can you flirt quieter.”
“No,” Kuroo replied cheerfully. “This is psychological warfare.”
Bokuto roared.
“THIS IS THE ROMANCE ARC.”
Akaashi set cleanly, deadpan.
“This is why we don’t invite them to normal gyms.”
Kenma muttered, “You chose to date him.”
Tsukishima blocked Kuroo’s spike perfectly.
The gym went silent.
Tsukishima smirked.
Kuroo stared at him like he’d just been personally attacked and seduced at the same time.
“…God,” Kuroo said softly, “you look so hot when you reject me.”
Tsukishima’s brain blue-screened.
Yamaguchi screamed internally.
Hinata shouted, “STOP FLIRTING DURING POINTS.”
“I can multitask,” Kuroo replied.
They kept playing.
Kuroo called him “my blocker” out loud.
Twice.
Three times.
Every time, Tsukishima threatened violence.
Every time, he still adjusted his position closer to Kuroo on the court.
Ukai watched the chaos, unimpressed.
“They’re disgusting.”
Takeda smiled tiredly.
“But… effective.”
Karasuno was sweating.
The third gym alliance was laughing.
The non-starters were experiencing religious trauma.
And Kuroo?
Kuroo was thriving.
When the scrimmage ended, he slung an arm over Tsukishima’s shoulders like he’d won something.
“See?” he said smugly. “Didn’t break up. Still annoying. Still yours.”
Tsukishima exhaled through his nose.
“…You’re unbearable.”
Kuroo grinned.
“And yet you didn’t move away once.”
Tsukishima paused.
Then, quietly:
“…Shut up.”
But he didn’t shake Kuroo off.
Kuroo Tetsurou Makes A Public Service Announcement
Kuroo found out about the civilian rumor at the vending machine.
Which was, frankly, the most insulting place to be mourned.
He’d wandered out into the hallway to grab a drink, still sweaty from the match, hoodie half-zipped, phone in hand. The machine whirred and groaned like it was contemplating its own mortality.
“C’mon,” Kuroo muttered. “Don’t die on me too, I’ve had a long day.”
Behind him, someone cleared their throat.
“Um… Kuroo-san?”
Kuroo turned.
It was a first-year girl from one of the other clubs. She was clutching her notebook like a shield.
“Yes?” Kuroo smiled politely.
She bowed so fast she nearly headbutted the vending machine.
“I—I’m really sorry for your loss.”
Kuroo blinked.
“My… what.”
“Your… relationship,” she said, very carefully. “With Tsukishima-san. Everyone said you two broke up because you stopped visiting. That must be really hard.”
Kuroo stared at her.
Then—
“Oya, oya.”
His smile turned slow. Dangerous. Deeply entertained.
“Is that what they’re saying?”
The girl nodded, eyes full of misplaced sympathy.
Kuroo let the vending machine spit out his drink, picked it up, and took a long, thoughtful sip.
“Well,” he said mildly, “that explains why people keep looking at my boyfriend like he’s in mourning.”
“…Boyfriend?” she echoed faintly.
Kuroo’s eyes gleamed.
“Oh,” he said. “This is worse than I thought.”
He turned and started walking back toward the gym, not even checking if she was following. She did, out of pure morbid curiosity.
The doors slid open.
Tsukishima was in the middle of talking to Yamaguchi when Kuroo walked straight up to him.
“Kei,” Kuroo said, loud enough to carry.
Tsukishima stiffened. “…What.”
Kuroo leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to his temple, and smiled like he’d just committed a crime.
“For the record,” he said, voice warm and deliberate, “I am still ridiculously in love with you.”
The gym froze.
Several people audibly inhaled.
Tsukishima’s brain blue-screened.
“Kuroo—” he hissed, face heating up immediately.
“Still dating you,” Kuroo continued, draping an arm over his shoulders like he owned the place. “Still annoying you. Still choosing you. Finals week just tried to kill me, not our relationship.”
Yamaguchi covered his mouth with his towel.
Hinata whispered, “THE PUBLIC IS HERE.”
Kageyama stared in secondhand embarrassment. “Why is he like this.”
Kenma, already tired, muttered, “He’s peacocking.”
Bokuto gasped dramatically. “HE DID IT IN THE OPEN FIELD.”
Akaashi nodded. “A bold strategy.”
Kuroo leaned down, voice dropping just enough for Tsukishima to hear.
“Apparently someone confessed to you because I was ‘gone.’”
Tsukishima’s ears turned redder.
“I did not encourage that.”
“I know,” Kuroo said softly. “But it means I need to be more present. For educational purposes.”
Tsukishima glared at him. “You are unbearable.”
“You’re blushing,” Kuroo replied.
“I am humiliated.”
“You’re adorable.”
“Stop saying that in front of people.”
Kuroo turned slightly, addressing the small cluster of onlookers who had absolutely not meant to witness this.
“Public Service Announcement,” he said cheerfully. “We did not break up. I am just a busy college student who still texts my boyfriend good morning and good night like a loser.”
Tsukishima’s soul left his body.
Bokuto clutched Akaashi. “THEY TEXT GOOD MORNING AND GOOD NIGHT.”
Kenma typed into his phone.
“Group chat update: rumor officially dead. Cause of death: Kuroo being unbearable in public.”
The girl from the vending machine stood in the doorway, eyes wide.
“I— I’m so sorry—”
Kuroo waved it off. “Nah, you’re fine. This one’s on Karasuno’s community rumor mill.”
He glanced down at Tsukishima, smirking.
“Though,” he added, “kind of cute that people think you’re heartbreak material.”
Tsukishima shoved him. “You’re not allowed near vending machines anymore.”
Kuroo laughed and tightened his arm around him anyway.
“Too late,” he said. “I’ve been declared emotionally deceased
once today. I’m living my second life loudly.”
Tsukishima hated that his chest felt warm.
And he hated more that Kuroo noticed.
PSA 2.0
(WHEREIN KUROO TETSUROU TRAUMATIZES TSUKISHIMA KEI'S ADMIRERS)
The gym lights dimmed one by one as Ukai and Takeda locked up behind them. Even they looked tired of pretending to be surprised by how often college idiots showed up to “just visit.”
“Lock the door,” Takeda said wearily. “If they come back in five minutes, I’m pretending I can’t see.”
The Third Gym Alliance spilled out of Karasuno like they lived there.
Bokuto was still talking at full volume.
“That was SUCH a good practice match, Tsuki! Your block was INSANE. I FELT MY SOUL LEAVE MY BODY.”
Akaashi nodded, already checking the time. “We should head back before Bokuto-san decides to sleep in the equipment room again.”
Kenma looked half-dead. “I’m deleting today from my memory.”
Kuroo lingered beside Tsukishima as they walked, shoulder bumping his like muscle memory.
“You still mad at me for embarrassing you,” he murmured.
Tsukishima didn’t look at him. “I am always mad at you.”
“Yet you keep walking next to me.”
“…Shut up.”
They reached the school gates.
And froze.
There were people waiting.
Not volleyball kids. Not Third Gym Alliance chaos gremlins. Just Karasuno students. Normies. Civilians.
A couple of girls. A guy with a nervous stance. The exact kind of lineup that meant someone had said something stupid in the group chat.
Tsukishima clocked it immediately.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Yamaguchi stopped short. “Oh. Oh no.”
Hinata whispered, “Why do they look like they’re waiting for you.”
Kageyama frowned. “They’re standing in a formation. That’s suspicious.”
One of the girls spotted Tsukishima and straightened.
“Tsukishima-san!”
Tsukishima exhaled slowly and stepped forward out of reflex.
“Yes?”
The girl hesitated. “Um… we heard you were, uh… single now. And we just wanted to—”
Behind Tsukishima, Kuroo stilled.
Then—
“Oya oya.”
Kuroo’s voice cut in, smooth and amused, like he’d just found a new toy to play with.
He stepped forward until he was directly behind Tsukishima, close enough that Tsukishima could feel the heat of him.
“…Single?” Kuroo repeated lightly.
The girl’s eyes flicked to him. “I—I mean—someone said—”
Kuroo smiled.
It was the kind of smile that meant chaos was imminent.
“Wow,” he said. “My finals really did some damage, huh.”
Tsukishima hissed, “Kuroo, don’t—”
Too late.
Kuroo slid an arm around Tsukishima’s waist, casual, practiced, like he’d done it a thousand times and would do it a thousand more.
Public. Deliberate. Unmistakable.
Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Tsukishima’s temple.
Not rushed. Not subtle. Not something anyone could misinterpret.
The entire gate went silent.
“Hi,” Kuroo said pleasantly to the small crowd. “Just to clarify for the Karasuno general population: Tsukishima isn’t single. He’s been dating me this whole time. I just had exams and was temporarily dead.”
Several people audibly gasped.
The girl went red. “I—I’m so sorry—”
“No worries,” Kuroo said easily. “You’re not the first person to try and steal my boyfriend during finals week.”
Tsukishima’s ears were on fire.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely,” Kuroo murmured. “Apparently I have competition.”
He glanced down at Tsukishima, eyes soft now.
“Miss me?”
“…You’re unbelievable.”
Kuroo smiled like that was the highest compliment in the world.
Behind them:
Bokuto was clutching Akaashi’s sleeve.
“HE DID THE FACE THING. HE DID THE FACE THING.”
Akaashi nodded. “That was intentional.”
Kenma muttered, “That’s a targeted emotional attack.”
Yamaguchi looked away politely. “I’m going to pretend I’m not witnessing this.”
Hinata covered his face. “I FEEL LIKE I’M INTRUDING ON A PRIVATE MOMENT.”
Kageyama squinted. “Is this flirting or a dominance display.”
“Yes,” Kenma said.
The small crowd awkwardly dispersed, apologies mumbled, rumors dying in real time as people realized they’d been confidently wrong.
When the last of them finally left, Tsukishima elbowed Kuroo in the ribs.
“You could’ve just said we were still dating.”
Kuroo leaned closer, voice dropping just for him.
“And miss the chance to publicly re-claim my boyfriend after people tried to line up for him?”
Tsukishima muttered, “…You’re disgusting.”
“And you like me anyway.”
Tsukishima didn’t deny it.
He just walked.
And Kuroo followed him.
HINATA SHOUYOU APOLOGIZES TO THE WRONG GODS (OVER YAKISOBA)
The yakisoba place was loud.
Not Bokuto-loud.
Just… normal after-practice loud. Clattering plates, steam rising from the grills, the owner yelling orders like it was a battlefield.
They took up half the long table.
Third Gym Alliance on one side. Karasuno on the other. Yamaguchi trying desperately to sit people in an organized way like this was a team dinner and not a gathering of emotional disasters.
Tsukishima had barely sat down when Hinata dropped to his knees.
Full bow. Forehead to the floor.
“I’M SORRY.”
The entire table went quiet.
Chopsticks froze mid-air. Bokuto’s noodles dangled dramatically from his mouth. Kenma looked up for once in his life.
Tsukishima stared down at Hinata like he was contemplating murder.
“…Why are you on the floor.”
“I STARTED THE RUMOR. AGAIN.” Hinata wailed. “I DIDN’T MEAN TO. I JUST NOTICED KUROO-SAN WASN’T AROUND AND YOU LOOKED SAD AND THEN MY MOUTH MOVED FASTER THAN MY BRAIN.”
“That is your brand,” Kenma said.
Yamaguchi sighed. “We’ve talked about this, Hinata.”
Kageyama frowned. “You cause disasters.”
“I KNOW,” Hinata cried. “I’M A MENACE TO SOCIETY.”
Bokuto slammed both hands on the table.
“I RESPECT THE ACCOUNTABILITY.”
Akaashi nodded seriously. “This is personal growth.”
Tsukishima pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You didn’t ruin my life. You just… made it annoying for twenty-four hours.”
Hinata looked up, eyes shiny.
“REALLY?”
“Yes,” Tsukishima said flatly. “But if you start one more rumor about my love life, I’m throwing you into traffic.”
Kuroo leaned back in his seat, smug.
“Don’t threaten him. He’s trying his best.”
Tsukishima shot him a look.
“You benefited from this.”
Kuroo grinned. “I got to publicly kiss my boyfriend. I regret nothing.”
Hinata bowed even lower.
“I WILL NEVER START A RUMOR AGAIN.”
Kenma snorted. “That’s a lie.”
“I WILL TRY TO NEVER START A RUMOR AGAIN.”
“That’s more believable,” Akaashi said.
The food arrived.
Steam curled up between them, the smell of sauce cutting through the tension. Bokuto immediately started shoveling noodles into his mouth like he was refueling after war.
“This is SO GOOD,” he said, tears in his eyes. “AKAASHI, THIS IS BETTER THAN PROTEIN.”
Akaashi passed him water. “Chew.”
Tsukishima finally relaxed into his seat.
Kageyama leaned over, awkward as ever.
“…You’re not actually mad, right.”
“No,” Tsukishima admitted. “Just tired of being perceived.”
Kageyama nodded like he understood that on a spiritual level.
Hinata slowly sat back up.
“So… we’re good?”
Tsukishima looked at him.
“We’re good. You’re just on thin ice.”
Hinata saluted. “YES, SIR.”
Kuroo reached over and stole one of Tsukishima’s noodles.
Tsukishima smacked his hand away.
“Order your own.”
“I like yours,” Kuroo said. “It tastes like you.”
Bokuto gagged. “WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS IN PUBLIC.”
Kenma deadpanned, “Because they’re evil.”
Tsukishima’s ears turned red.
But he didn’t move away.
And this
time, when Kuroo bumped his knee under the table, Tsukishima bumped him back.
Accidentally on purpose.
THE TSUKISHIMA HOUSEHOLD PREPARES FOR WAR
(a.k.a. Akiteru Realizes His Peace Has Officially Ended)
Akiteru Tsukishima had accepted many things in life.
That Kei was taller than him now.
That his younger brother had emotional walls thicker than most castle fortresses.
And that, apparently, whenever his college friends were in Miyagi, they treated the Tsukishima household like a free, emotionally unsafe lodging facility.
This was not new.
Bokuto yelling “WE’RE BAAAACK” in the entryway.
Akaashi apologizing for Bokuto yelling.
Kenma already connecting to the Wi-Fi because he remembered the password from last time.
And Kuroo acting like this was his second home because, functionally, it was.
Akiteru stared at the group in the hallway and sighed the sigh of an older sibling who had lost every battle but still showed up to the war.
“Okay,” he said, clapping once. “Sleeping arrangements. Let’s do this fast.”
Kei’s parents were out of town.
Which meant Akiteru was responsible.
Which meant this would absolutely be his problem.
Bokuto raised his hand immediately.
“Akaashi and I are together.”
“That was never in question,” Akiteru replied flatly. “You two share my room.”
Bokuto beamed like he’d just been promoted. Akaashi bowed politely, already apologizing to the house in advance.
“Kenma,” Akiteru continued.
“Guest room,” Kenma said, already halfway down the hall.
Akiteru nodded. Then he turned.
And looked directly at Kuroo.
“And you,” he said, voice heavy with implication, “are staying in Kei’s room.”
Kei choked on absolutely nothing.
“NIICHAN—”
Akiteru raised a hand.
“I have lived in college dorms. I am not stupid. I know what happens when people haven’t seen each other in weeks.”
Kuroo coughed into his fist, trying and failing to look innocent.
“Wow. That’s… very honest.”
Akiteru leaned closer to Kei.
“Be responsible. Lock the door. Put something on the handle. I do not want to open it accidentally and lose my will to live.”
Kei’s ears went nuclear.
“I am disowning myself in real time.”
Then Akiteru looked at Bokuto and Akaashi.
“And you two,” he added, squinting, “I trust you the most, which is deeply upsetting. Akaashi, you have strong ‘turn the volume down out of respect for others’ energy.”
Akaashi nodded solemnly.
“I will do my best to be a good neighbor.”
Bokuto blinked.
“Is that… praise?”
Akiteru turned back to Kuroo.
“But you,” he said, pointing, “I do not trust at all.”
Kuroo grinned.
“You wound me.”
“You flirt like it’s your full-time job,” Akiteru replied. “If I hear anything through the walls, I am putting my headphones on and pretending I live alone.”
Kuroo laughed.
“Completely fair.”
Later, when the house had settled into something resembling order, Akiteru paused by Kei’s door.
“…I heard about the rumors,” he said casually.
Kei made a noise into his pillow that sounded like his soul leaving his body.
“Please don’t.”
Akiteru shrugged.
“College dorms prepared me for worse. People thought I was fighting with my roommates every week because of noise complaints. You’re fine.”
Kuroo leaned casually against the doorframe.
“So what’s the protocol, niisan?”
“Socks on the door,” Akiteru said. “Music on my end. Mutual agreement that none of this exists tomorrow morning.”
Kei stared at the ceiling.
“I am never emotionally recovering from this.”
Kuroo squeezed his hand, completely unrepentant.
“I haven’t seen my boyfriend in three weeks. Let me live.”
Akiteru waved them off.
“Just don’t break anything structural. This house has suffered enough.”
Down the hall, Bokuto yelled,
“AKITERU-SAN DO YOU HAVE EXTRA BLANKETS OR ARE WE SUFFERING FOR LOVE—”
Akaashi apologize
d on instinct.
Kenma was already asleep.
And Akiteru put his headphones on preemptively.
Just in case.
THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM
(a.k.a. Tsukishima Kei Regrets Nothing and Everything Simultaneously)
Kei woke up and immediately knew he’d made several questionable life choices.
His back hurt.
Not in an injured way.
In a very specific, deeply humiliating way that made him stare at the ceiling and reassess his entire personality.
He shifted.
Instant regret.
“…I’m killing you,” he whispered into the air.
Kuroo, dead asleep beside him, made a soft, content noise and did not take accountability for any crimes committed the night before.
Kei lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling of his own bedroom, wearing a shirt that was not his.
Kuroo’s shirt.
It hung off one shoulder, the fabric warm from shared heat, way too big, way too comfortable. It did absolutely nothing to hide the faint marks along his collarbone and neck, which Kei refused to acknowledge as real.
He carefully pulled the blanket higher.
It did not help.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Third Gym Alliance (No Adults Allowed):
Bokuto: MORNING TSUKIIIIII DID YOU SLEEP GOOD 😁
Akaashi: Bokuto-san, please do not phrase it like that.
Kenma: He phrased it exactly like that on purpose.
Kei closed his eyes.
He considered faking death.
Footsteps passed outside his door. Bokuto’s voice carried down the hall.
“I’M TELLING YOU, THEY’RE ALIVE—THEY JUST SOUND… QUIET.”
Akaashi hissed, “Please stop announcing it like a public service message.”
Kenma, flat: “They’re not dead. They’re just in post-coital silence.”
Kei pressed his face into the pillow.
“I am never leaving this room again.”
Kuroo stirred.
“…If you’re planning my murder, can you wait until after breakfast.”
Kei froze.
“…You’re awake.”
Kuroo blinked blearily, then smiled when he focused on Kei, slow and satisfied in a way that should’ve been illegal.
“Morning,” he said. “You look… sore.”
Kei kicked him lightly in the shin.
“You’re disgusting.”
“You liked it,” Kuroo said easily.
Kei turned red so fast it was almost impressive. “That is not the point.”
Kuroo laughed quietly and shifted closer, careful this time, his hand resting warm and steady at Kei’s side.
“Hey. You okay?”
Kei hesitated.
He was embarrassed.
He was mortified.
He was also… stupidly, painfully aware of how safe he felt.
“…My brother is going to kill me,” he muttered. “He’s not going to let me leave this house alive.”
Kuroo grinned. “Akiteru already warned me to be responsible.”
Kei stared at him. “He told you to use protection.”
“He told me to put a sock on the door,” Kuroo said proudly. “I feel very mentored.”
Kei groaned. “I hate both of you.”
“You love both of us,” Kuroo corrected.
Kei opened his mouth to argue—
And instead, very softly, said,
“…I love you.”
Silence.
Kei froze.
He hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
It had slipped out in that dangerous, half-asleep honesty zone where your brain doesn’t protect you from yourself.
Kuroo went very, very still.
“…Say that again,” he said quietly.
Kei stared at the wall.
“No.”
Kuroo propped himself up on one elbow, eyes soft now, no teasing in them at all.
“You said it.”
Kei swallowed.
“I was… tired.”
“You said you love me.”
“…I love you,” Kei muttered, burying his face in Kuroo’s chest. “Shut up.”
Kuroo’s laugh was shaky and warm all at once. He wrapped his arms around Kei carefully, pressing a kiss into his hair.
“Wow,” he murmured. “You let me hear that and everything.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Kei said weakly.
“I absolutely will.”
From the hallway:
Bokuto: “WHY IS IT QUIET IN THERE ARE YOU TWO DEAD OR KISSING—”
Akaashi: “Bokuto-san, we talked about doors.”
Kenma: “They’re alive. Unfortunately.”
Kei groaned into Kuroo’s shirt.
“I want to disappear.”
Kuroo smiled against his hair.
“Too late. You’re stuck with us.”
Kei sighed.
This was ridiculous.
Loud.
Embarrassing.
Unnecessarily dramatic.
But when he closed his eyes, surrounded by idiots who showed up too often and a boyfriend who showed up even when life got busy—
For once, the chaos didn’t feel lonely.
It felt… full.
Kuroo
nudged him gently.
“Hey. Breakfast?”
Kei winced as he shifted.
“…I need five more minutes to forgive you.”
Kuroo grinned.
“I’ll take that as progress.”
Later—when the house was loud with Bokuto’s laughter, Akaashi’s gentle scolding, Kenma’s exhausted sighs, and the familiar chaos of people who never learned how to leave quietly—Kei lay back against his pillow and stared at the ceiling, thinking about how ridiculous it all was. Years ago, there had been whispers about him and Kageyama—glances misread, late practices turned into rumors, quiet conversations twisted into something they had never been. It had felt uncomfortable then, being seen through someone else’s story. Now, the rumors had circled back around him again—breakups that never happened, condolences he didn’t need, confessions he hadn’t asked for. Kei huffed softly, the corner of his mouth lifting despite himself. People had always been wrong about him. They always would be. But this time, for once, the truth was simple enough to hold onto: he wasn’t alone in the noise anymore. The world could keep guessing. Let them. He had Kuroo’s warmth beside him, the echo of laughter down the hall, and a quiet certainty settling in his chest that felt real in a way no rumor ever could.