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“Ah. Welcome home, master.”
Hitoka squeaks weakly at the greeting, frozen outside of the 1-4 classroom, face to chest with a very tall, very intimidating butler.
“Tsukishima, you could at least give it a little more effort…”
The boy in question rolls his eyes into the back of his head at the scolding from his classmate and fixes his posture. He tosses a manufactured bored look to the side, but Hitoka can tell that he’s a little uncomfortable as he fiddles with his cufflinks.
“Um,” she whispers. “You look nice.”
He pushes his glasses up to hide his expression, but from her lower angle she can see how that earns her the smallest quirk of his lips, his honey brown eyes softening just a touch.
“I assume you’re here for Yamaguchi,” he replies in lieu of a thanks. Hitoka feels her cheeks warm.
“W-Well–”
Tsukishima waves off her incoming apology, he knows she’s technically here for both of them, and tilts his head behind him into the classroom. Hitoka follows his eyeline and nearly chokes to death on her spit.
Across the classroom, Yamaguchi is politely serving a table of students… In a maid dress. Hitoka can feel how far her jaw has dropped as she watches him retrieve a cleaned-off plate of pastries with an awkward smile. She doesn’t think she’s blinked. Tsukishima snorts behind her.
“You’ll catch flies, Yachi-san.”
At the mention of her name, Yamaguchi’s head snaps up with terrifying speed. The moment their eyes lock, both of them stop breathing. It is deathly quiet in Hitoka’s head for a second before a ringing overtakes it and Yamaguchi’s face turns a brilliant scarlet, obscuring his freckles. Tsukishima takes the plate Yamaguchi’s about to drop (when did he get over there?!) and nudges him pointedly in her direction with his hip.
Yamaguchi stumbles over to her like a newborn fawn. His voice and smile are wobbly as he mumbles a small:
“W-Welcome home, m-master…”
And ushers her into the classroom and towards a free table in the corner. She realizes she still hasn’t spoken and mentally smacks herself. Yamaguchi probably thinks that she thinks he looks terrible! Gah, Hitoka, say something!
“Uh, ah, um. Dress?”
Not that! Death should come for her now. Oh god, she’s going to lose his friendship and never be able to show up to practice again–
“Oh, yeah, haha, there weren’t enough suits at the rental place so the boys had to draw straws,” Yamaguchi replies sheepishly. Hitoka picks her head up off the table from where she had dropped it a moment prior in anguish. “I look pretty silly, huh?”
“N-No! No, not at all!” she waves her hands in front of her as if warding off negative energy. “You look actually very, um, cute?”
Both of them let out embarrassed squeaks at the same time. Yamaguchi smooths down the skirt and Hitoka’s eyes dart right to the movement, following the fluff of the ruffles along the hem. To try and pad the awkwardness, he sets down a small paper menu with a few dessert and drink options on it.
“Um, l-let me know what suits your fancy. I, ah, have to go check on my other tables. Be right back!”
He scurries away, skirt bouncing. Hitoka still can’t breathe. Probably hasn’t since she got here. Eventually she drags her eyes down to the menu and tries to read it. Well, the roll cake looks good…
Her eyes drift back to Yamaguchi despite herself. Tsukishima is speaking to him in hushed tones, mouth close to his ear. He reaches up and fixes Yamaguchi’s neck ribbon, the gesture intimate and gentle. Hitoka’s heart stutters in her chest. Are they..?
Well, it would make sense, she supposes. They are childhood friends who have played volleyball together for a quarter of their lives. She squashes down the squirmy feeling in her stomach that travels up into her throat and looks back at the menu, pretending to read it. It’s none of her business!
“Hey, cutie. Are you on the menu?”
Hitoka jolts in her seat, whipping her head around to stare, mortified, at a boy she’s never seen before. Is he in his second year? Third? Is he talking to her?! She points at herself limply, confused.
“Yeah, you,” he nods, smile quickly melting from cocky to almost shy. “Er, sorry, that was a bad line, wasn’t it? My friend told me to use it.”
“It’s fine,” Hitoka says, because she has no idea what else to say. The boy rubs the back of his neck, cheeks pink.
“Anyway, I just wanted to say that I think that you’re cute. Can I sit with you?”
She freezes like a deer in the headlights.
“Um–”
“Sorry, ‘scuse me, that’s my g-girlfriend you’re talking to!”
She blinks hard enough to send a shockwave through her temples as Yamaguchi towers over the second year boy with a glare on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. He actually looks a little scary, like Tsukishima. Or Kageyama.
The second year boy, reasonably intimidated despite the maid dress, stutters out a quick excuse and apology and flees the classroom. Yamaguchi huffs, brushes invisible dirt off his apron, and then turns to her.
“Are you alright, Yachi-san?”
“Y-Y-Yes?!” Hitoka puts a hand on her chest to calm her racing heart. “Thank you, Yamaguchi-kun!”
How heroic! Hitoka turns her head down again, to the table, just as a pale hand sets a plate down with two small roll cakes.
“Yamaguchi, you should take your break,” Tsukishima’s voice drawls with a facade of laziness. “And so should I. The idiot dynamic duo has just shown up.”
Before Hitoka can thank him, the blonde rushes off to the other side of the classroom behind the room divider just as she hears the telltale squawk of Hinata entering a room. This is quickly followed by Kageyama’s baritone calling Hinata a dumbass. Business as usual.
Yamaguchi slides into the seat across from her and snickers into his hand in the way he only does when he and Tsukishima are making fun of them. It quickly turns into a fond smile, though, and then it’s turned on her. She stabs her fork into the roll cake to avoid getting lost in his freckles.
“I’m sorry by the way, Yachi-san, for calling you my, ah, girlfriend. I was just trying to get that guy away from you.”
She swallows hard and shakes her head.
“No, no, it’s okay! I don’t mind!”
Oops.
“I-I mean, uh–!”
Yamaguchi laughs again. This time, it’s his true laugh. The one where his giggles increase in volume until he snorts. Hitoka’s heart can’t handle it. Is he laughing at her?!
“I don’t mind, either,” he whispers. Yamaguchi takes his own fork and their fingers brush as they both scoop up another piece of the cake. It sends electricity through her entire being, right down to her toes. Starlight may shoot out of her eyes at this rate. He clinks their forks together lightly.
“Cheers.”
Ah, she was wrong. The starlight is shooting at her eyes instead.
“C-Cheers!”