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The only word that could be used to describe the instant the ball slammed against the court is mortifying. There was a moment of eerie silence before the whistle blew. Kei didn’t need to look at the referee to know he was pointing in the direction of the opposite team. They had made it all the way to the finals in Spring nationals, and yet all of Karasuno’s hard work had been pulled out from under them by a single point claimed by Itachiyama. The crowd erupted in celebration.
Despite his overwhelming exhaustion from the long rally they had played, Kei had jumped as high as he could to block Itachiyama’s ace. The ball cut straight past his hand with a powerful spike. He could hear the clatter of his teammates against the floor behind him as they dove to receive the ball. Had he moved a second faster, had his reflexes been a moment quicker, had he gotten just a fingertip on the ball, then maybe they could have saved it. He winced as Tadashi gripped the back of his wrist.
“It’s time to line up.” He said solemnly, his voice lacking its usual inflection. Kei did as he was told. Tadashi carried out his duties as captain gracefully. He shook hands with Itachiyama’s captain. He bowed respectfully when receiving feedback from the coaches. He smiled when thanking the audience for their support. It wasn’t until they were headed out of the main gym and Kei had wrapped an arm around his shoulders that Tadashi had let out a gut-wrenching sob. He clambered Kei into a tight hug, burying his head into the crook of Kei’s neck as he cried desperately. The team hadn’t noticed Tadashi crumble as they were all already bawling themselves. It didn’t matter. Tadashi had kept it together long enough to see the team out with dignity.
“Tsukki!” Tadashi sobbed. Kei pushed his head deeper into his chest as he shushed him.
“I know, baby.” He hummed. There was nothing else he could have said. Instead, he continued to stroke the back of his head soothingly.
Coach Ukai treated the team to dinner that night, as he always did after a big match. When they entered the restaurant, Kei was surprised to see his former teammates waiting for them. He was bewildered by the idea that they had all come out such a long way to see them. It was difficult to face them all after their defeat. The finality of the moment set in. Kei would never again play in a high school match. Next year he would join his upperclassmen, looking back on his time at Karasuno as a fond memory. Tadashi fell apart quickly.
“I’m so sorry.” He cried into his hands. The old third years were quick to envelop him in a big hug, pampering him with comments about how well he played, how much he had grown, and what an excellent captain he had been. Nothing they said to him was untrue, but Kei understood well the piercing pain of being admired while feeling like a failure. Shoyou was quick to dive in to join the hug, equally as eager to hear such uplifting feedback about his improvement. The old second years rambled on about how Karasuno was back to its former glory, and how no one would dare call them the flightless crows ever again. It still hurt, though.
By the time their dinner had been served, Tadashi had mostly cried himself out. He leaned silently into Kei’s side, and pushed his food around his plate. His eyes were puffy and red. His cheeks were stained with tear tracks. His frown was small. Kei pressed a soft kiss into the side of his head.
After they had returned to the inn for the night, Kei was quick to find a space to be alone. He stepped outside and sat down around the side of the building. He almost immediately burst into tears. His breath shook as he sobbed relentlessly. He tried repeatedly to stop crying, but as soon as he thought he had regained his composure, the tears would come flooding back out again. He set his glasses aside and lifted his hands to rub his eyes.
“Tsukki!” Kei looked up to see Tadashi approaching him from around the corner of the building. “Hey.” He continued as he sat beside him. Kei wrapped his arms around Tadashi’s waist and cried into his shirt.
“I’m sorry.” Is all he managed to say.
“No, don’t be.” Tadashi spoke, wrapping his arms around Kei. He gently laced his fingers through his hair. They stayed like that for a while. Kei found comfort in the sound of Tadashi’s heartbeat.
“I never thought the day would come.” Tadashi eventually said. Kei lifted his head and Tadashi moved both hands to caress Kei’s jawline, gently wiping his tears away. “My Stoic-shima so upset over the outcome of a volleyball game.”
“Shut up, Tadashi.” Kei laughed. He ran his fingers along Tadashi’s forearms as Tadashi continued to swipe his tears away. “I just wish we could have won for you.”
“Won for me? You’re the one crying about it!” Tadashi teased.
“The only reason you aren’t crying right now is because you’ve run out of tears.” Kei pouted. “I just wanted today to be really special for you.”
“It was special. We played in the finals. We essentially placed second in the country. I wasn’t even sure we’d beat Date Tech.”
“Of course we would beat them with you as our captain. You’re better than Daichi and Ennoshita combined.”
“I think favouritism may be clouding your judgement.” Tadashi giggled. Kei joined him for a moment before sighing.
“It’s just that today was our last day on the court together. I wanted you to feel happy looking back on it.”
“Aww, Kei!” Tadashi cooed, quickly wrapping his arms around him. “I should have known you didn’t care about the game! You’re just upset because you love me so much.” He teased, before releasing Kei and replying genuinely. “It won’t be our last. I’ll still make time to play with you after we graduate.” He caressed Kei’s cheek.
“You know it’s not the same. I don’t know how I’m going to play without you. I am the player I am today because of you, Tadashi.” It was true. Tadashi knew it was.
“Stop, you’re making me blush!” He replied, burying his face in his hands. Kei realised he should shower Tadashi with praise more often.
“You’re so amazing. I’m better when I’m with you. I’m going to miss you a lot.” Kei finished. He pulled Tadashi’s hands away from his face and made eye contact with him. They both leaned in wordlessly and gently pressed their lips together. Tadashi laced their fingers and kissed Kei again. “I’ll miss you too.”
Despite how crowded the room they were sleeping in was, it was fairly quiet. The team was exhausted from the game and eager to return home tomorrow. Kei laid on his futon beside Tadashi, with a hand around his waist. He perked up when Shoyou shoved his futon against Tadashi’s.
“Move over, Snuggly-shima! It’s my turn with the captain.” Kei grunted as he shuffled back towards the wall. Tadashi giggled sweetly as Shoyou tackled him into a hug. After Shoyou settled, Kei shifted forward again to spoon Tadashi. Shoyou threw his head over his shoulder, without letting go of Tadashi.
“Kageyama!” He called. “Come cuddle with us!” Kei tisked.
“I am not cuddling you, Hinata. I’m only cuddling Tadashi.” Shoyou furrowed his eyebrows and poked his tongue out at him.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say Stingy-shima.” Tadashi chuckled. “Kageyama, come on!”
Tobio walked across the room and looked down at his fellow third years, perplexed. Kei thought he looked constipated.
“What are you doing?” He asked plainly.
“Yamaguchi sandwich. Come.” Shoyou smiled. He opened an arm out for him to join. Tobio puffed out his cheeks as he sat beside Shoyou and, sternly, but not unwillingly, wrapped an arm around Shoyou’s waist and rested his head against his nape. Tadashi reached over to caress the top of Tobio’s hand. Tadashi smiled and shut his eyes.
“I love you.” He whispered.
“I love you too, Tadashi!” Shoyou beamed, to which Tobio spat.
“He’s talking to his boyfriend, dumbass, not you.”
“Not true!” Hinata retorted. “He’s told me he loves me before!”
“What, when he’s blackout drunk?” Kei snorted, earning a jab in the ribs from Tadashi’s elbow.
“I’m pretty sure Yamaguchi ranks Tsukishima higher than you. No one would rank you first.” Tobio explained, to which Kei laughed. Shoyou groaned.
“Except for you, dummy! You just don’t wanna admit that you love me.” Tobio blushed and averted his gaze.
“I wouldn’t rank you first. Maybe second to last, just above Tsukishima.” Tadashi giggled.
“Stop bickering! I love all of you.” Tadashi quietened his voice. “You guys are my best friends. I’m going to miss this a lot.” Shoyou tightened his grip around Tadashi.
“I’ll miss you all too. I might even miss Stupid-shima.” Tadashi chuckled and snuggled up against Shoyou. The third years eventually hushed and fell asleep like that. Kei didn’t dislike it as much as he thought he would.