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People were, in Wakatoshi’s estimation, unnecessarily complex creatures with unnecessarily complex emotions. It wasn’t that he disliked his peers, or didn’t enjoy their company, but rather that Wakatoshi had a very hard time understanding how it was other people were feeling, and why they were feeling that way.
Volleyball was simple. It had rules, all spoken and agreed upon by every player in the court. You had to follow the rules to win. If those rules were broken, there were penalties. Wakatoshi always knew where the lines were, in volleyball — and he always knew where he stood with his teammates.
Social interactions also had rules, but Wakatoshi didn’t know what they were. No one ever tried to explain them to him, and there was no strategy involved, at least not that Wakatoshi could see. Socializing was like being thrown right into the middle of a match for a sport he didn’t know how to play. He was expected to do well, and everyone was disappointed in him when he didn’t.
He learned what he could. Frowning meant that someone was feeling bad. Smiling meant someone was feeling good. If someone laughed at something he said, it meant they thought he was being sarcastic, and he would have to clarify. If someone said something nonsensical or incongruent with previous discussions, they were probably being sarcastic.
And the most important rule of all was, of course, that none of these rules could ever be trusted to stay reliable.
But, being alive meant being around other people, so Wakatoshi managed to keep stumbling through, largely blindly, in a game he would never, and could never, really know how to play.
***
Tendo came into Wakatoshi’s life like a sudden storm, and then, inexplicably, stuck around.
Before high school, Wakatoshi had never had any friends, not real ones anyway. Teammates, peers, fans, rivals? Yes. Friends? Never. No one his age understood him, always put off by his lack of conversational skills and one-track mind, and he, in turn, didn’t really understand them.
When he met Tendo, he expected more of the same. Someone who would be a good ally on the court and an awkward acquaintance off of it. Not ideal, but certainly the norm.
It seemed Tendo had different ideas about where their relationship was going to go, even back then.
At first, Wakatoshi had been in a perpetual state of feeling wrongfooted every time Tendo talked to him. Tendo was an absolute whirlwind of activity, and Wakatoshi was never sure if he was being genuine or sarcastic, or how he felt about any little thing. He was, to put it simply, an enigma.
But Tendo kept coming back, just as dogged and persistent as ever. He never seemed off put when Wakatoshi didn’t know what to say, or was uninterested in the topic at hand. He took it all in stride, steering the conversation about, and never asking for Wakatoshi to do more in return.
It was a little surprising to realize, about halfway through their first year, that not only did Wakatoshi not mind Tendo’s company — he actually enjoyed it. Tendo was still deeply confusing, but in a strange way his unpredictability gave Wakatoshi something to expect. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t quite figure Tendo out; no one else could either.
So it was like this that Wakatoshi unexpectedly, yet not unpleasantly, made his first friend.
***
Wakatoshi was not good at initiating physical contact. Tendo didn’t understand the concept of personal space. To an outside observer, this dynamic would seem problematic. Internally, it worked out just fine.
About two weeks before Halloween of their second year, Wakatoshi and Tendo were having lunch with Semi and Ohira. Tendo had, as usual, finished eating before the rest of them (because he didn’t eat enough — one of the few sources of continued conflict between the two of them), and was therefore draped across Wakatoshi’s shoulder, lamenting to whoever would listen about the latest issue of Jump. It made Wakatoshi feel warm in a way he couldn’t describe.
“—I mean, I get that it’s a popular trope, but c’mon! It made absolutely no sense for his character arc. And don’t even get me started on this new manga they started publishing this week, it’s not even worth the paper it’s printed on! Like, first of all—”
Ohira was nice enough to try to listen to what he was saying. Semi couldn’t be bothered. Wakatoshi wouldn’t have been able to follow even if he wanted to.
Wakatoshi finished his last bite of rice, then pushed away his lunch tray before glancing at his bag. He had a homework assignment he should work on, so he would have more time for extra practice later.
“Tendo,” he mumbled. Tendo immediately understood, sliding off of his shoulder (while not once breaking his impressive rant) so Wakatoshi could turn and pull his notebook out. Then, once he was resituated, Tendo’s arm returned.
Semi looked at them with the face he sometimes got, scrunched up around the mouth with his eyes narrowed. Wakatoshi ignored him.
They had figured out a consistent pattern for contact since meeting. Tendo leaned against Wakatoshi whenever he so pleased, and Wakatoshi let him. If Wakatoshi needed more mobility for a moment, Tendo would move away just long enough for Wakatoshi to finish whatever task he needed to do. It worked well for them. Wakatoshi liked it, even.
Tendo’s prattling served as good background for him to work on his assignment for most of the rest of lunch, until Tendo nudged his shoulder, asking “What about you, Wakatoshi-kun?”
“Hm?” Wakatoshi glanced up, to find Tendo looking at him, wide-eyed. “Apologies, Tendo. I was not listening. What was that?”
Tendo didn’t seem put off by Wakatoshi’s admission of his lack of attention. He never did. “We should watch a horror movie this weekend, after Saturday practice! Since Halloween’s coming up and all.” His grin grew. “And I have the perfect one in mind.”
“Absolutely not,” Semi interjected. “The last time we let you pick the movie, I had nightmares for a week.”
“And,” added Ohira, “we have a huge test next Monday. I’m not willing to fail it because I couldn’t sleep.”
Tendo stuck out his tongue at them. “Scaredy-cats.” He turned back to Wakatoshi, his gaze imploring. “C’mon, Wakatoshi-kun. I know you think movies are kind of a waste of time,” not something Wakatoshi had ever told him; Tendo had a habit of knowing things about him he had never verbalized, “but I promise it’ll be fun. Plus, I can’t watch it on my own!” He pouted. “Please?”
Wakatoshi, despite himself, couldn’t find it in his heart to say no. With Tendo, he always wanted to give into his every whim, no matter how foolish.
***
On Saturday morning, Tendo sidled up to him during their water break, looking incredibly pleased. “You excited for our movie night, Wakatoshi-kun?”
“Not particularly,” Wakatoshi responded. “I don’t like horror movies.”
Semi frowned at him. “You’re scared of horror movies? Why did you agree then?”
Before Wakatoshi had the chance to refute this, Tendo shook his head. “Nah, I think he meant he finds them boring.” Tendo always seemed to understand what Wakatoshi was trying to say, even in cases where no one else ever did. His smile took on an edge — Wakatoshi had figured out it meant he was particularly pleased. “Thanks for agreeing to do this with me.”
He nodded. Although Wakatoshi wasn’t excited for this movie, per se, it made him feel good when Tendo was happy. It was an instinct that had become natural to him, although he didn’t really understand why it was there.
(Maybe Tendo would know. He seemed to be in tune with Wakatoshi’s emotions in a way not even Wakatoshi was. But he didn’t know how to ask, so he didn’t bother.)
The rest of the day passed without much fanfare. Tendo, after much begging, finally managed to convince Semi to relinquish their dorm for the night, and everything was set up so that Wakatoshi would be able to sleep over — technically against school rules, but Tendo had managed to convince Wakatoshi that some rules weren’t really meant to be followed during their first year.
Wakatoshi showed up at the dorm at eight on the dot to find Tendo hooking up his laptop to an old projector and pointing the image towards a blank wall.
“Ah! Wakatoshi-kun! C’mere, we’re pretty much ready to start.”
Wakatoshi acquiesced, taking a seat on Tendo’s bed (which was actually Semi’s bed, since Tendo had the top bunk). Tendo turned out the lights and then settled down next to Wakatoshi, wrapping himself in blankets and pressing firmly against Wakatoshi’s side. Finally, he looked over, a grin spread wide across his face.
“You ready, Wakatoshi-kun?”
***
The movie was not good. Wakatoshi was no expert in these things, but even he could tell that the special effects were lackluster at best, and the plot had so many holes, Wakatoshi could barely even follow what was happening.
This did not seem to bother Tendo, who still gasped and flinched whenever something “scary” happened on screen. If Wakatoshi didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that Tendo was faking it in some joke that only made sense to him.
But Wakatoshi did know better, and so he knew that Tendo, in his love of all things weird and avant-garde, was genuinely scared.
The monster (Wakatoshi was pretty sure it was meant to be an alien, but it also could be a swamp creature or something) caught the guy it was chasing, digging its teeth into his neck with a spurt of very fake blood. Tendo whimpered, curling further in on himself. He had stopped leaning against Wakatoshi fifteen minutes prior, clearly having decided that pulling his blanket tighter around himself was a better use of his hands. Wakatoshi missed the contact.
Another loud shriek from the monster. Tendo looked like he wanted to cover his eyes. Wakatoshi’s mind was racing, looking for a way to fix Tendo’s obvious discomfort.
Without really thinking about it, he extended his arm — stiff and unused to the gesture — and wrapped it around Tendo’s shoulders. Tendo tensed for only a moment before burrowing into Wakatoshi’s side. It was the first time Wakatoshi had ever initiated this kind of contact with him. It felt good.
They stayed like that for the rest of the movie, Tendo stubbornly refusing to look away through it all. Wakatoshi didn’t bother to pay attention to the rest of it. When the credits rolled, Tendo stuck a shaky hand out of his blanket to pause the movie and press the power button on the projector. Then, he flopped back onto the bed, pulling Wakatoshi with him. Tendo didn’t say anything, but he was clinging quite firmly to the fabric of Wakatoshi’s sweatshirt, so he figured Tendo wanted him to stay.
Wakatoshi didn’t mind.
***
The next morning, Wakatoshi was awoken by the sound of Tendo’s alarm, a cheery pop song Tendo claimed he liked ironically (although no one believed him anymore). Wakatoshi grumbled, reaching a hand out blindly to the bedside table and feeling around until his fingers found the button on the alarm, and he pushed it.
Tendo shifted, still trapped half underneath Wakatoshi. “Mmmm. Morning, Wakatoshi-kun.” His voice was groggy.
Wakatoshi opened his eyes, glancing at his bedmate. Tendo met his gaze, eyes drooping and smile crinkled. His hair was sticking up at odd angles — a consequence of falling asleep with product in it. Wakatoshi felt that strange warmth start up in his chest and spread throughout the rest of his body at the sight. He wanted…something. He didn’t know what.
“Y’know,” Tendo said, oblivious to Wakatoshi’s internal struggle, “normally, I would have a hard time sleeping after a movie like that.” He winked. “Who knew Miracle Boy Ushiwaka was such a good weighted blanket? You might need to consider a career change.”
The knowledge he had helped Tendo sleep well only made the feeling worse. He felt like he was about to shake out of his skin, his chest a concave of confusing, horrible emotion.
“Wakatoshi-kun?” Tendo raised an eyebrow. “You good?”
“I–” His voice stuck in his throat. He felt so very odd. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“Really? Cuz you kinda seem like you’re having a crisis.” He pressed the back of his hand against Wakatoshi’s forehead, checking his temperature. “Do you have a fever or something?”
Wakatoshi shook his head. “No, I just…I don’t know.”
Tendo tsked. “Is there something you want? Something you need? C’mon, give me a hint. I wanna figure out how to fix it.”
How to fix it? Wakatoshi didn’t know. He never knew how to get rid of the feeling lodged inside his chest. Every time it appeared, he was always helpless to its whims. He couldn’t even begin to guess how he could possibly fix it, except — “I want to make you happy.”
“What?” Tendo laughed, but it wasn’t any of his usual, manic giggles. This one was short, almost punched out of him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You said you wanted to fix what is wrong with me. Making you happy usually helps.”
Tendo stared at him, and Wakatoshi, despite his poor people skills, was positive that the expression on his face meant he was baffled. “So, if I ask you to do something that makes me happy…”
Wakatoshi nodded. “I’ll do it.”
There was another beat, before Tendo burst out into more laughter — his usual laugh this time. Most of the time, when someone laughed at something Wakatoshi said, he would just end up confused, perhaps even a bit annoyed. But this made him feel lit up from the inside.
“Jeez, Wakatoshi-kun! You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”
“Of course. You’re very special, Tendo.”
Tendo grinned at him. “So you’d do anything I tell you to.”
Wakatoshi considered this, before inclining his head. “Within reason.”
“Hmmm. If I asked you to,” Tendo’s expression turned — it was the smile Semi described as sly — “would you even marry me?”
It was meant to be a joke, but Wakatoshi wasn’t good at engaging with jokes, so he nodded. “I would.”
Tendo’s smile fell for just a moment, before he laughed again. This one sounded a little forced, even to Wakatoshi’s ears. “Really? You know you would have to put up with me every day if you did that. We would live together, and sleep in the same bed, and I would bother you all the time.”
“That would be fine.”
There was a pinch in Tendo’s brow. “You would have to kiss me.”
“Would you want me to?”
Tendo’s smile finally dropped, and he visibly swallowed. Wakatoshi had a thought.
“Do you want me to?”
“I…” Tendo’s gaze searched him, before it slid to the side. “Would you?” he asked in a small voice. “If I wanted you to?”
Instead of answering, Wakatoshi cupped Tendo’s cheek in one hand. Tendo’s eyes flicked back to him, but then Wakatoshi was leaning in, carefully, until he was a scant inch away from Tendo’s lips.
Tendo made an odd, throaty sound, and then he surged upwards, catching Wakatoshi’s mouth with his own. His lips were warm and a little bit rough, and Wakatoshi felt the warm, jittery feeling give way to sheer contentment.
When they pulled away, Tendo smiled, breathtaking in its intensity, and Wakatoshi felt that part of himself — the part that wanted nothing more than to make Tendo happy — hum with pleasure. He gave into the urge to lay back down and bury his face into the nape of Tendo’s neck.
They stayed like that for the rest of the morning, or at least until Semi came back and yelled at them for sleeping in his bed. Tendo didn’t stop smiling once throughout all of it. Wakatoshi wanted to make sure he never stopped.