Chapter Text
The day Kei Tsukishima had decided to eat less hadn’t been a particularly bad one. It was the last day of break before he became a first year at Karasuno High. He’d been hanging out in his living room playing a video game while Tadashi talked his ear off about a new band he’d been listening to. The freckled boy only took breaks from talking to inhale one of the juice boxes Kei’s mom had given them before work.
Tsukishima eyed the drink with irritation when Tadashi set it down to keep talking. His eyes stayed glued to the juice box for a second too long and he died in his game. He tossed down the controller and stood up from the couch.
“Sorry, Tsukki. I’ll stop talking,” Tadashi said, deflating. He always assumed Tsukishima was mad at him when he wasn’t.
Maybe because you’re an asshole to him.
“I’m not mad at you,” Tsukishima said for the hundredth time that week. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He walked away, leaving his friend alone with the game over screen still displayed on the tv.
The people who knew him best knew that his default state was to be angry at someone, so the admission still felt oddly vulnerable. If he didn’t try though, he knew his prickly exterior might push Tadashi away. So, he tried, but he didn’t always succeed.
After Tsukishima had finished using the bathroom, he didn’t leave right away. Instead, he stood in front of the cabinet, debating whether or not to pull out the scale.
His weight hadn’t been of interest to him up until his last physical around ten months ago. It was the first time in his life that his weight had been such a nice number. 150lbs even. It had stuck in his head. It made him feel a sense of peace, like if nothing else in his life could be stable, at least his weight was perfect. Every time he’d checked since then, it had been the same. The number was a constant. He could count on it to always ease that unexplained feeling of wrongness in his chest.
Akiteru had been away for the last two months on a summer trip with his girlfriend, so Tsukishima hadn’t felt the need to check his weight in a while. An unreasonable pit settled in his stomach, like somehow the act of not checking for so long would have made it change. He did want to see that number again though. Maybe it would make his chest feel right again like it had before.
So, he took off his clothes and pulled out the scale before placing it on the floor. He made sure it didn’t clack loudly against the tile.
He set his foot on it to calibrate it twice before stepping on.
His heart sank.
The number was not right— it did not make him feel right.
167.4 glared back at him before blinking away. He’d gained over 16lbs. The pit that had settled in his stomach turned sour.
How?
He thought back to how Tadashi was always saying he needed to try and eat more. How he would give him tolerable amounts of his weird food. A bite here and there couldn't have done this, could it?
It felt like the world around him was on fire.
He looked in the mirror. His expression hadn’t changed, despite everything churning inside him. His cheeks, however, did seem fuller now that he was looking for it.
Kei Tsukishima was someone unnaturally good at keeping things in check, and he prided himself on that. He controlled his face, his words, his grades, his emotions, his reactions, even what textures of food he ate. So the fact that he let this slip by unnoticed was unnerving, to say the least.
There was nothing he hated more than uncontrollable things. Severe weather, sudden noises, big emotions, bugs, children, other people who could so easily lie or leave without a second thought. But his body would not be one of them.
This must have been what had felt off in his chest. His subconscious must have realized that his body had changed before he’d seen the evidence of it. He wouldn’t allow it to go any further. He would fix this.
Tsukishima got dressed, put away the scale, and made his way back out to the living room.
“Tsukki, are you feeling okay? You were gone for a while,” Tadashi said, looking at Tsukishima over the back of the couch.
Tsukishima scowled at him, even though he knew it wasn’t fair. “I’m fine,” he bit out.
“Oh... okay. Well, do you want some?” Tadashi asked, holding out a green box of matcha flavored pocky. “Your brother gave these to me while you were in the bathroom.”
Then, Tsukishima scowled for a different reason. “Akiteru is home?” he asked, ignoring the snack. He’d thought his brother would be going straight back to college after his trip instead of coming home.
Just then, clanking sounds drifted into the living room from the kitchen. He knew his mom wasn’t home yet, so it had to be his brother. Great.
Tadashi got the message that Tsukishima wouldn’t be taking any pocky, and retracted his offer before pulling out a stick for himself. “Mhm,” he said, munching. “I think… I think he meant these,” he shook the green box. “as a peace offering.”
“Well, then he’s an idiot. He should know by now I hate sweets,” Tsukishima said, loud enough that he knew Akiteru heard him.
Tadashi stared at him, wide eyed as Tsukishima came around the couch to sit back down.
“That’s not true, you love sweets… and he can hear you,” Tadashi whispered with a pocky stick half hanging out of his mouth.
Tsukishima turned the tv off and leaned his head back against the cushions, unbothered.
Akiteru poked his head around the corner. “Don’t worry, Tadashi. My brother knew that already,” he said, an irritating grin on his face.
Tadashi looked up at Akiteru, wide eyed and red faced. “Uh-ah, I-I’m sorry,” he blurted.
Akiteru just laughed before popping back into the kitchen.
Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Don’t apologize to him. You didn’t even do anything,” he grumbled before shifting so that he was laying down. He lay his head back on the armrest and bent his knees so he didn’t touch Tadashi. His knee hit something when he brought it up, and whatever it was clattered to the ground.
“Ack— Tsukki,” Tadashi protested. “You spilled the pocky.”
“Good. Shit’s poison.”
Tadashi frowned down at him. “You think every food is poison.”
Tsukishima said nothing, instead reaching for his headphones on the end table behind his head. He was about to cover his ears with them when he noticed Tadashi looking down at him, anxiously wringing his hands.
The blonde sighed. “What?”
Tadashi startled, as if he hadn’t expected to be noticed. “Oh. Um, it’s just… you’re acting a little weird. I just wanted to know if you’re actually okay is all,” he stammered.
“I already told you I was fine,” Tsukishima said dryly.
“I-I know, but… I just have a feeling that something’s wrong.”
“You have OCD, Tadashi. You always have a feeling something’s wrong.”
Tadashi looked away, cheeks flushed. “Y-yeah, you’re right. Sorry Tsukki.”
And if that didn’t make Tsukishima feel like an asshole, nothing would. He sighed again. “I’m just… thinking,” he explained. It wasn’t the full truth, but it wasn’t a lie.
Tadashi looked back at him, his eyes lighting up at the smallest bone thrown his way. “About what?”
Tsukishima grunted and plopped his head back down against the armrest. “None of your business.” If he told Tadashi he was calculating how little he should eat tomorrow, it would make his obsessive worrying even worse.
“O-of course. Sorry Tsukki,” Tadashi cringed.
Tsukishima waved off the apology and slipped his headphones on.
He still needed to be functional for the first day of volleyball. If they benched him, he would have to work out outside of practice and he didn’t have time for that. Maybe 1200 calories? With heavy exercise, that number seemed reasonable enough. If Tadashi offered him anything extra he would just have to refuse. He would have to come up with a few excuses to combat his friend’s tendency to overthink just about everything.
Tsukishima just needed his weight to go back to that constant number and then he would be fine again. The feeling pressing against his ribs would go away, and then Tadashi wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. He would still have to be cautious to not let this happen in the future, but once his weight was stable he would go back to his normal diet—which wasn’t that normal to begin with.
He’d always been known to be a picky eater, and his food aversions were shifting all the time. It wouldn't be suspicious if he suddenly couldn’t stand the texture of his favorite meals. He’d also always had a naturally small appetite, so that would help him keep this discreet. He didn’t know why, but part of the control he sought over himself, included not allowing anyone to know about the part of him that needed the control.
Plus, Tadashi’s worries and fears were always way out of proportion to the situation. If Tsukishima told him he was dieting, he would react like he was starving himself or something.
Tsukishima felt something buzz near his feet and he slipped his headphones off one ear.
Tadashi took his phone out and checked it. “It’s my mom. She wants me home before dinner.”
Tsukishima sat up, pushing his headphones down around his neck. “I’ll walk you to the station.”
“No you won’t,” Akiteru called from the kitchen. “I’m making pork Katsudon. It’s nearly done.”
“I’m allergic to pork,” Tsukishima replied before walking toward the door and putting on his shoes. Tadashi scurried after him, eager to get out of the crossfire.
They’d just made it through the door when Akiteru popped around the corner again. “Since when—“
Tsukishima closed the door before he could finish.