Work Text:
For most of his life thus far, Kei has categorized people into three categories: annoying, tolerable, and Yamaguchi.
And, well, with no complete, specific parameters on that third one, it’s no wonder that Kei’s having a bit of trouble. Because when exactly did Kei start to wonder where he should draw a line between friends and something more? It’s not like he’s dense or unaware of things such as these, but it’s jarring, in a way, to be walking home with Yamaguchi and when they part, to want an extra minute together.
He’s heard other people talk about people they feel for—how could he not have, with Tanaka and Nishinoya weeping over Kiyoko every day—so, in some way, he wonders if he doesn’t feel enough to consider this for Yamaguchi anything more than somewhat of a strive for a deeper platonic connection. He’s never… felt anything similar to what his upperclassmen apparently feel for Kiyoko, so it could just be nothing.
Back to his categorizations, though.
Kei stands in the club room, his back turned to the rest of the room, which is empty save for one unfortunate addition. Even though Kei isn’t looking at him, he can still hear the thumping of his feet against the floor as he hops around.
“Tsukki,” his bright voice says, and Kei sighs inwardly.
“What.”
Hinata approaches Kei, his head tilted curiously as he looks at what Kei holds in his hands. It’s just a towel, so Kei glances over at Hinata and then shoves the towel into his locker.
“What?” he repeats, and Hinata squints at him.
“You’ve been standing here doing nothing for, like, five minutes. I thought you had a game or something interesting.”
Kei levels him a bored look. “Sorry to disappoint,” he deadpans.
“That’s okay!” Hinata chirps, the insincerity of Kei’s prior statement apparently lost on him, or having flown straight over his head.
Idly, Hinata bounces on his heels, and Kei resists the overwhelming urge to place a hand on his shoulder and still him. Instead, he slings his backpack over one shoulder and turns to leave.
“Tsukki,” Hinata calls before Kei can make his exit. “What exactly were you doing? I mean, a towel can’t possibly be that interesting. You—”
Kei’s almost-pained expression is enough to quiet even Hinata for a moment, remarkably, though he looks as if he wants to continue hurling questions at Kei.
“It isn’t,” Kei hums; his vague answers are typically enough to deter most people from further inquiry, but Hinata isn’t most people, evidently.
“Then what?” Hinata raises an eyebrow.
Kei rolls his eyes. “What’s it to you?”
Hinata shrugs, unaffected. “Just curious,” he says. “Were you thinking about something?”
After Kei gives no answer besides another bored look, Hinata takes matters into his own hands.
“Thinking about strategy, right? I know that Asahi-san got past your block quite a few times during practice today, but—!”
Kei sighs, “Sure,” he says, because going along with whatever Hinata wants to think is leagues better than telling the truth. Though, to be fair, Kei has no clue what the truth even really is.
As soon as he’s freed from Hinata’s attention, Kei slips out of the club room door to come face to face with Yamaguchi, his cheeks red from the exercise and his lips parting into a smile at the sight of his friend. Kei swallows thickly.
“Hurry up,” he says, “Or I’ll ditch you.” (No, he won’t.)
“No, you won’t,” Yamaguchi says with a cheeky grin, and Kei just blinks at him.
Maybe he’s become too predictable.
—
Usually when the team goes out together, Kei and Yamaguchi hang behind on their own. It’s become understood amongst the rest of their teammates that calling out for them to catch up will do nothing, and Kei thinks that even if it means they get last choice of the meat buns Daichi buys, it’s okay.
“So, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi speaks, his hands shoved into his coat pockets and his breath condensing before him, “I heard a rumor.”
“Oh?” Kei glances over at Yamaguchi, but he doesn’t look back up at him.
The chatter of their teammates in front of them seems more distant than it actually is, as in reality they’re only a few paces ahead.
Yamaguchi hums his confirmation, and then elaborates, “I heard a rumor from our certain ginger friend that something’s on your mind.”
Kei sighs; Hinata’s always a bit more observant and a bit less of an absolute dunce than he makes himself out to be.
“You can talk about it, you know,” Yamaguchi tells him, more reassuring than prodding. Gradually, the pair fall a few more paces behind the rest of their teammates—probably intentional on Yamaguchi’s part.
Kei almost wants to laugh at the possibility of confiding in anybody that is not Yamaguchi. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “I know.”
“Is it about school, Tsukki?”
Kei lags both in conversation and in pace. His teammates, with the exception of Yamaguchi, seem light-years away. There’s a small beat of silence, and then: “No.”
It isn’t that he’s particularly unwilling to talk to Yamaguchi; at least he doesn’t think so. It’s more like… Kei isn’t sure where to begin, or where to end. He isn’t even sure of the middle. And he’s not particularly afraid of rejection—if, if, what he has can be considered a crush—and above all, he isn’t afraid of Yamaguchi.
It definitely isn’t fear. Kei knows that much.
“Volleyball?”
Kei considers for a moment nodding, just to sate Yamaguchi’s curiosity before he says something he’ll regret. But Yamaguchi would see through him, anyway.
“I was thinking about you,” he says, honestly. He almost chokes when he realizes what he’s said, but he manages to let out a deep breath.
He might imagine Yamaguchi’s flush, and it’s entirely probably that he colors from the cold. Either way, all Yamaguchi says is, “Oh?”
Kei immediately backtracks. “Just—about the team. About how it’ll be when the third years…”
“Ah, I see,” Yamaguchi almost seems disappointed, but Kei doesn’t want to project anything onto him, so he doesn’t comment on it. “I think Ennoshita-san will be a great captain next year. Do you think so?”
The conversation flows more smoothly from there, though Kei doesn’t feel particularly relieved. The lingering feeling that he should say more, that he should confide in Yamaguchi about this doesn’t fade, not even when they reunite with their team in front of Sakanoshita and meat buns are passed out.
The foil ripping triggers almost a Pavlovian response; Kei wasn’t particularly hungry on the walk to Sakanoshita, but as they all begin to eat, it’s hard to ignore the way his stomach growls. Despite their proximity, the sound goes mainly unnoticed by his teammates—except for Yamaguchi, who does a poor job of hiding his snickering behind his hand.
“Are you sure you don’t want mine, too?” he teases.
“I’ll pass,” he says with a dry laugh, gesturing to Yamaguchi’s partially eaten meat bun.
Yamaguchi lets out an amused huff, and Kei casts his eyes away.
The way the team huddles reminds Kei a bit of penguins, all circled together to preserve warmth. A few different conversations are being held at once; Sugawara and Daichi seem to conspire with each other while, to their side, Hinata and Kageyama bicker lightly.
A few moments pass, and as if testing the waters, Kei takes a side step closer to Yamaguchi. He doesn’t expect, though, for Yamaguchi to back up slightly at the same moment, leading to him leaning against Kei’s chest.
They both freeze, and after a second Yamaguchi flinches a bit before he clears his throat. He turns his head to glance quickly up at Kei, his mouth open like he wants to say something—to apologize—but he closes it, biting at his bottom lip.
No one else in the huddle notices the exchange, for which Kei is grateful, but he himself notices after a second’s observation that many of his teammates are pressed together at the shoulder, and none of them flinch away from each other.
It dawns on Kei, then, that their teammates must not feel their hearts caught in their throats at the contact.
—
“Soul searching,” Kei’s mom chimes, after listening to Kei talk—with no specifics—about how he’s feeling. (Confused, mostly. Torn between what he should be feeling and what he is feeling?)
“...Soul searching,” Kei repeats, deadpan.
She nods. “You’ve always been a pretty closed off kid, you know. I think that you probably are forcing yourself to…” she struggles for words. “You’re thinking too hard about whether or not you should think about it. Do you get me? I say just think about it.”
Kei blinks at her. He can’t blame her for the relatively vague advice after he’s certainly been vague to her with the situation in the first place.
“Just take some time to really think about it, with no barriers. No should or shouldn’t.” She clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth. “And of course you can always vent it all out to me, you know.”
Kei has never vented it all out to anyone in his entire life, and his mom knows this. Still, he says, “I know.”
If Kei’s mom has any more advice to offer, she doesn’t say so, and Kei certainly can’t bring himself to ask—at least, not without divulging more specifics.
—
Maybe the ideal time and place for this so called soul searching isn’t in the middle of afternoon practice, but as Kei watches Yamaguchi practice his serves from across the gym, he can’t really help but analyze their behavior during the day today—how Yamaguchi caught Kei staring at him during lunch and interpreted it as Kei wanting his food, and, subsequently, how Yamaguchi lifted his chopsticks up to Kei’s mouth and tried to feed him before Kei, too embarrassed to do anything else, swiped the chopsticks away from him and fed himself.
Why should he have been embarrassed? Tanaka and Nishinoya share popsicles all the time without a second thought, and even Hinata and Kageyama, on occasion, share food.
Right, so, the way Kei feels towards Yamaguchi has definitely surpassed what he can consider “normal.” Whether or not he can label it a crush, though, he’s not ready to face. Somehow, it’s daunting. Kei has always kind of seen himself as being above things like crushes, but maybe he was just looking in the wrong place.
He’s abruptly torn from his thoughts when he’s hit in the back with a volleyball, and as he turns to see who’d thrown it, Sugawara says, “I called your name three times.”
Kei blinks. “Sorry,” he says.
“Distracted?”
“You could say that.”
Sugawara doesn’t press; instead, he just tells Kei that he’s wanted over by Tanaka and Asahi to practice with.
—
Even though Yamaguchi is more than capable of taking care of himself, he comes to dinner at the Tsukishima house more than he doesn’t. His mother often works night shifts, so Kei just supposes it’s better than being home alone. And Kei’s mother sure doesn’t mind him—she’s loved him since they were young.
But, today, her attention seems particularly… embarrassing to Kei. He hadn’t dared to mention to her that the turmoil he’s dealing with is because of Yamaguchi, but it seems like she knows without him having to say anything at all. She shoots him a knowing look across the dinner table before doting on Yamaguchi, making sure he has enough to eat and such. Kei hides the way heat rises to his face at being discovered by taking a drink.
The two of them chatter easily while Kei keeps quiet, his gaze flickering back and forth between them and his food. And, for awhile, he foolishly thinks he might get away from saying anything throughout the course of the meal, but his mother foils this for him.
“Kei,” she suddenly says, “I haven’t heard a peep from you.”
He shrugs. Yamaguchi tilts his head curiously. “Is something wrong, Tsukki?”
Kei resists the urge he has to cast a glare at his mother; he just shakes his head and takes another bite. “Nothing to say,” he responds once he’s finished chewing and upon noticing that they’re both still looking at him.
“No?” his mother questions, an eyebrow arched. “What about what you were—”
“No,” Kei cuts her off. “There’s nothing to say.”
She tuts, and Yamaguchi furrows his eyebrows, looking between them, utterly confused.
For a brief moment, Kei entertains the idea of piecing together some explanation for his friend, but then again, Yamaguchi has always seen through anything Kei has ever tried to fabricate.
Instead, he pushes his plate towards the center of the table and casts his gaze downward, observing the grain of the kitchen table. After Kei’s cheeks and ears are sufficiently red, his mother seems to take mercy on him and shifts the conversation elsewhere.
The relief doesn’t last very long, though. Before hardly five minutes have passed Kei’s mother taps her nails against the table and says, “Oh, I forgot to mention. Kei, your brother called,” she smiles innocently, and Kei somehow dreads what she’s about to say. “He went on a date; isn’t that so nice? If only you—”
Kei freezes, his mouth slightly ajar. “Very nice,” he forces out, before pushing away from the table and standing from his chair. He grabs his plate and beelines for the sink.
Yamaguchi watches him with wide eyes, and then follows suit, bringing his plate to the sink. Kei washes both the dishes and then casts a forced smile at his mother. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. We’ll be going to my room now.”
“So sudden,” Kei’s mother comments, but then she snickers to herself. She knows very well what she’s doing, even if Yamaguchi still looks absolutely bewildered.
The short walk to Kei’s room is quiet, the only sound that of socked feet against carpet. As soon as Kei pulls his bedroom door shut, though, Yamaguchi asks, “What… was that?”
Kei plays dumb. “What was what?”
“Your mom. And you. Why were you… It was weird. Right? It was weird.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then another, and it dawns on Kei that he’s probably taking too long to answer what should be a simple question.
“I don’t know,” Kei lies. “My mom likes to think that she’s funny.”
Yamaguchi looks… unimpressed, or like he doesn't quite believe Kei, or perhaps both. Kei can’t bring himself to lift his gaze from his bedroom floor.
“You know, if there’s something…” Yamaguchi trails off, and Kei can feel his eyes on him, even though he’s not looking back.
“I know,” Kei responds, voice hardly above a mumble. “There’s nothing.”
And then Yamaguchi laughs, causing Kei to finally look up. He’s covering his mouth, his eyes shut as he giggles behind his hand.
“What’s funny,” Kei more demands than asks, and Yamaguchi shakes his head.
“You’re acting so weird, Tsukki. So serious.” He shakes his head again. “If you swear there’s nothing wrong, I’m not going to bother you about it. But then you have to stop acting like someone pissed in your cereal, okay?”
Kei blinks at Yamaguchi once, twice, then lets out a chuckle. “Okay,” he responds, smile tugging at his lips. “No one pissed in my cereal.”
—
It’s another week before Kei works up the courage to tell anyone about this. There’s very few people he knows that he trusts, and even less that he trusts to not mention this to Yamaguchi, by accident or otherwise.
By his mother’s suggestion, he’s thoroughly searched his soul—and he knows how stupid that sounds, but it’s clarified at least some things—and he’s come to the conclusion that whatever he’s feeling is more than platonic. At least that he knows. Past that, it’s… still blurred and uncertain, so he decides that he needs to confide in someone. (Someone other than his mother, who will torch him in front of Yamaguchi next time he comes over if he so much as mentions this to her again.)
And so, the list is short to choose from in the first place, comprised of only Kiyoko and Daichi. Whichever he chooses, he knows they’ll be shocked that he’s come to them with this, since he speaks about two words to either of them on a weekly basis.
Nonetheless, he knows he needs to talk to one of them, and the opportunity presents itself when Kiyoko is taking the heights and weights of the team members. They’re pulled from practice one by one to measure, and at Kei’s turn, his mouth gets inexplicably dry.
Kiyoko has him step onto the scale and such, though Kei doesn’t really register what he’s doing, since he’s thinking of what he could say to her. He can’t just blurt it out—maybe if he were someone else, but decidedly, he is Tsukishima Kei, so he can’t just blurt it out—so he decides on, “Shimizu-san, can I talk to you about something?”
Kiyoko snaps the tape measure back into place and looks up at Kei curiously. “Is something the matter?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong. I just… need advice. If it’s not trouble.”
She blinks at him. When neither of them speak for a few ticks, she says, “Go on.”
This is more nerve wracking than Kei had initially thought it would be, and he feels incredibly foolish now that Kiyoko is staring at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, this is… sudden. And strange.”
“I don’t mind,” Kiyoko responds, setting the tape measure on the table beside them. She entwines her fingers together in front of her.
Kei lets out a deep breath. “I think that I may have feelings for someone.”
Kiyoko’s composure doesn’t change, except for a very slight widening of her eyes.
For a brief moment, Kei wills the floor to open up and swallow him whole; since it doesn’t, he just shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He isn’t certain when he closed his eyes, but when the room comes back into sight, Kiyoko is still there, waiting expectantly—unsurprising.
“Uh,” Kei says. “I may have… for Yamaguchi.” He’s careful to drop his voice to a near-whisper despite the cacophony that is the Karasuno gym.
There’s a beat of silence, and even if Kei can’t see himself, he’s certain that his cheeks and ears must be reddening with each passing second.
Kiyoko takes pity on him, apparently, her gaze softening as she reaches out to set a hand on Kei’s shoulder. “What exactly do you need advice on?” she inquires. “I think you’re doing just fine.”
He stares at her for a moment. “What do you mean?”
Kiyoko’s tongue darts out for a moment as she thinks, and she says, “Not everything is like volleyball for you, where you can calculate for every outcome. Some things, you just… They just happen. And,” she pauses, and then smiles warmly. “I can’t speak for him, but I’d be surprised if he would react negatively to your feelings in any way.”
Kei swallows thickly. He hadn’t really ever considered that Yamaguchi would react negatively; he’s been too enraptured in figuring out himself to think of it. Somehow, Kiyoko’s advice simultaneously helps and makes everything worse.
He mumbles his thanks anyway, letting Kiyoko finish her measurements before he steps away and back out to the team. When certain pests ask him why he’d taken so long in there with Kiyoko, all he can do is roll his eyes and dismiss them with a flick of his wrist.
—
Kei isn’t usually one to struggle with his homework, though that isn’t really a fair assessment—it’s not the content of the work that’s causing his brain to slip into an untimely fog; rather, it’s Yamaguchi.
Yamaguchi, as much as Kei enjoys his general presence, is an awful distraction. He tugs at his bottom lip with his index and thumb while he thinks, utterly unaware of how distracting he’s being, and when he catches Kei staring, all Kei can do is divert his gaze back down to the work at hand. And, if Yamaguchi minds the staring, he doesn’t say so.
The lull that they fall into is a familiar one, quiet save for the scratching of pencil against paper and the occasional sigh of frustration.
It dawns on Kei that he’s completed an underwhelming two and a half math problems in the stretch of time that they’ve been sitting in Yamaguchi’s bedroom, though with the way that his mind has been wandering, he can’t be sure how much time has passed.
Yamaguchi clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Not in a homework mood, huh, Tsukki?”
To spare himself from the possibility of saying something embarrassing, Kei just shakes his head and pushes his homework away. Yamaguchi follows suit, their homework meeting up in the center of the table.
What happens next is a natural progression— Yamaguchi reaches for his DS and clambers up onto his bed, Kei following behind. They sit a few inches apart on the bed as Yamaguchi starts the device and opens the Legend of Zelda.
There’s a bit of mindless chatter as Yamaguchi plays and Kei watches, the twinkling music serving as background noise. They’re quiet for awhile, Kei working up the courage to ask what’s on his mind.
“Yamaguchi,” he says after a few minutes, hyper aware of the few inch gap between them. “Do you have someone that you like?”
It sounds incredibly out of place and childish coming out of Kei’s mouth, and Yamaguchi laughs nervously.
“What?” he asks, setting the DS down.
“I’m not going to repeat it,” Kei mumbles, averting his gaze. The constellation poster on Yamaguchi’s wall becomes particularly interesting.
“Someone I like…” Yamaguchi trails off. “Kind of out of the blue for you to ask, Tsukki.”
Kei shrugs, his eyes tracing the pattern of Canis Major.
“Well…” Yamaguchi pauses, lifting a hand to cup his own cheek. “Yeah, there is somebody.”
Kei risks a quick glance over at Yamaguchi, only to catch his eyes. He looks immediately away again. “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Yamaguchi hums. “I have for awhile. Liked them, that is.”
“And you never told me?”
“I didn’t think you were interested in this type of thing, Tsukki.”
“Hm.” There’s a slight lull, and then Kei continues, “How do you know that you like them?”
Yamaguchi hums again, and Kei looks at him. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, dusting over his freckles. Kei swallows harshly.
“I don’t… really know specifically. It’s a, like, general feeling that I get whenever I’m with that person.” Yamaguchi’s eyes meet Kei’s for a moment, and then he looks down at his lap. The music on the DS still plays softly. “It’s… wanting to spend as much time as possible with them, and feeling really content and warm when they smile.” He pauses, color deepening, and then clears his throat. “Is there someone that you like?”
Immediately, he wants to deny it. Yamaguchi… likes someone else. It’s not likely that it’s Kei, anyway, seeing as he could count the number of times he’s smiled in the past year on two hands.
Instead, he says, “I don’t know.”
This piques Yamaguchi’s interest, and he rests his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning ever so slightly forward. Even without looking, Kei feels his friend’s eyes on him.
There’s a beat of silence which seems to drag on for just a few seconds too long. Kei clears his throat.
“I don’t know,” he repeats, this time less confident than the last.
“That’s okay,” Yamaguchi replies, voice soft. “It’s okay to not know.”
Kei’s eyes flicker to him again. His brown eyes harbor not a touch of judgment, and his mouth is pulled into a slight, warm grin. Kei feels it in his chest. (Maybe he does know that there’s someone he likes. Maybe there doesn’t need to be a “maybe.”)
They’re quiet again, Kei dropping his gaze to the DS. Link stands in the center of the screen, in the same place he’s been for about ten minutes now. The music loops once again.
“I think… yeah. There is someone.” Kei’s chest feels tight and he can’t bring himself to look up from the console.
Yamaguchi shifts beside him, nudging Kei’s leg with his knee. “Well, I’m rooting for you, Tsukki.” He smiles, and Kei knows—he knows, he knows, he knows.
—
While Kei’s at least reached some sort of clarity, the next few days are… particularly painful in a way he isn’t used to. He wonders about Yamaguchi’s “someone”—are they on the volleyball team? Or in their class? He knows he shouldn’t be so concerned with it, because Yamaguchi will like who he likes and he has no requirement to tell Kei who it is, but even so, it… hurts a little bit.
Despite Kei’s best efforts to be present during practice, his mind still wanders on—has Yamaguchi, too, been unable to get Kei’s confession off of his mind? Has he thought of it at all?
He’s lucky enough to at least have some focus, enough to get him through practice without being called out by anyone—or so he thinks. Just as he’s exiting the gym, a few paces behind everyone else including Yamaguchi, who chatters with Hinata, Kageyama drops back to join him.
“What the hell’s up with you?” Kageyama asks, blunt as always.
Kei scoffs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Like I’d say anything to you.”
“I wasn’t asking because I actually want you to tell me,” Kageyama clarifies as they both walk on, not looking at each other. “But you’ve been off your best game for a few days now, and I’m concerned,” he stops, and then tacks on, “for the team.”
“Forget it,” Kei responds, soles of his shoes scraping against gravel. “It’s none of your business. I’ll get over it.”
Kageyama side-eyes him and Kei realizes that he’s said too much on accident.
“You’ll get over it?” Kageyama questions, accompanied by a slight tilt of his head.
Kei sighs. When he makes no move to elaborate, Kageyama shakes his head.
“Not like I wanted to know anyway,” he mumbles.
Kei sighs again. “Kageyama, have you ever liked someone?”
At this, Kageyama stops in his tracks. Kei takes another step before he turns around to face him. His eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape. “You like someone?” he asks, like he’d never considered the idea possible.
“If you say a word about it to anyone I’ll personally sneak into your house and put troll dolls on every available surface.”
Kageyama pales and Kei snorts. Every moment that passes, they fall further behind the rest of the team.
After lowering his voice, Kageyama says, “So you’re trying to get over this person? Why?”
Kei blinks hard at him. “I hate that we’re having this conversation,” he says, lip curling in disgust. “But… I’m sure that they don’t have feelings for me, so I just have to get over it.”
Kageyama tugs at his lower lip. “Why do you think that?”
Shaking his head, Kei turns on his heel and begins to walk again. Kageyama jogs a few paces to catch up with him. “If there’s someone you like, they probably like you back,” he says.
“Do you know how any of this works?” Kei huffs.
There’s a few ticks of silence, and then Kageyama admits, “Well, not really. But you’re— I mean, I guess you’re a nice looking guy. I guess. And if you actually tried for once you might be kind of nice. You’re nice to Yamaguchi, at least. Sometimes, I think.” He pauses, and Kei feels utterly out of place. He has no clue what he’s done to deserve this happening to him. “So whoever it is,” Kageyama continues, “They probably like you back. Even though I can’t imagine liking you in a million years.”
“You saying all of that to me makes me never want to speak to you again,” Kei deadpans. This whole situation—Kei’s feelings for Yamaguchi, that is—has gone entirely too far. If you had told Kei, even a month ago, that Kageyama of all people would be giving him genuine advice, he would never have believed it.
However, as Kageyama seems to reach his threshold of patience and kindness, he peers in Kei’s direction and says, “You asked for my advice in the first place, dumbass.”
“I don’t recall asking,” Kei replies.
As much as it pains Kei to realize that Kageyama might not have been entirely clueless in his advice-giving, he can’t help but try to see the truth behind it; Kei and Yamaguchi’s bond is fairly obvious, especially since Kei holds mostly everybody in a state of contempt.
And maybe he’s just projecting or trying to shift the situation into his own favor, but Kei truly can’t even begin to picture who it is that’s the object of Yamaguchi’s affections. In the same way, Kei can’t imagine that it would be particularly difficult for anyone to figure out who it is that he himself harbors feelings for.
Kei’s exceedingly glad, though, when he and Kageyama finally make it to the club room and the conversation ceases.
There’s only so much he can take.
—
Kei is definitely a creature of habit. His walks to and from school with Yamaguchi are undoubtedly one of his favorite habits—not only is it calming to have time alone with Yamaguchi, but Kei often has time to turn on his headphones and get lost in thought.
About as often as Kei listens to his music, he listens to Yamaguchi. (You couldn’t pay Kei enough to say so out loud, but Yamaguchi’s voice, even if it’s little more than distracted rambling, is surprisingly comforting.)
Kei doesn’t ask if they’re walking home together, because he simply expects it. What he doesn’t expect, though, is for Yamaguchi to emerge from the club room, holding up his own pair of earbuds and grinning.
“I have mine...?” Kei questions, head cocked just slightly. Subconsciously, he lets his left hand to come up and rest on the headphones around his neck.
“I know you do, Tsukki,” he agrees, and then intertwines his fingers, bending them back with a quiet crack—a nervous habit, Kei is fairly certain. “But I made you… a playlist?” he asks rather than says.
Kei blinks. It might be presumptuous, but Kei feels his heart catch in his throat at the mere idea of sharing a pair of earbuds between the two of them, forced into closer-than-usual proximity. And, Kei’s heart almost can’t withstand the idea of Yamaguchi hand-picking songs for him.
“We can listen,” he quickly agrees, throat dry. Once they’ve reached the bottom of the stairs, Yamaguchi slips the earbud into Kei’s hand. (If Kei’s pulse jumps slightly at the contact and at Yamaguchi’s warmth, he doesn’t mention it.)
Yamaguchi stays close to Kei, then, their shoulders occasionally brushing together. The first song begins to play and Kei looks over at Yamaguchi, who’s looking ahead with a slight close-lipped smile. Kei bites on his bottom lip and his gaze flickers away to the ground before them.
Though Kei has never heard this song before, he can discern from the lyrics that it’s very much a love song. He likes the song well enough, but with the lyrics considered, he can feel himself becoming a bit flushed. Whether Yamaguchi intended this or not, he’s not sure.
“What’d you think?” Yamaguchi questions after the song finishes, and Kei clears his throat.
“Romantic,” he answers, and then pauses for a split second. “Are you flirting with me, Yamaguchi?” He wears a teasing smile, even though his chest feels exceedingly tight.
Yamaguchi just winks at him and he feels his soul promptly leave his body.
As the songs progress, one after another in some way about being in love, Kei’s mind is swimming. His doubts—his thoughts that Yamaguchi liked someone other than him—are tossed out the window. For Yamaguchi to be so straightforward, but in such a roundabout way…
“You’re sure you made this for me?” Kei questions, still somewhat in a state of disbelief.
“Sure did, Tsukki,” he answers. As if on cue, their hands brush, and neither of them flinch away.
It’s the lightest brush of fingertips, but on the next stride, Yamaguchi threads their fingers together just loosely, and they swing between the pair.
It’s a good thing that Yamaguchi is holding his hand—which, what? Kei almost doesn’t believe that this is real—because otherwise, he might float away, too taken aback to exist in this universe.
“You don’t mind this?” Yamaguchi confirms, voice soft and almost lost to the music.
“No,” Kei responds immediately. “Yamaguchi—that ‘someone’ that I like—you know that it’s you?”
At this, Yamaguchi lifts his free hand to muffle a snicker. “Well, yeah. I knew as soon as you said something, Tsukki.”
Kei’s face is hot and he turns his head so that Yamaguchi can’t see. “I didn’t think I was so obvious.”
“You are,” Yamaguchi teases. “You really are.”
This—all the nerves and all of the excitement—is uncharted territory, but welcome, so welcome. Yamaguchi surely notices how clammy the palms of Kei’s hands are getting, though Kei supposes that it’s the least of anybody’s concern.
They reach the place where they usually part, then, but without even really realizing so, they both head towards Kei’s house. Yamaguchi exaggerates the swinging of their arms, a bright grin spread across his face, and Kei buries his blushing face into his scarf.
“You look like a cute turtle,” Yamaguchi comments, and Kei tries his best to glare back at him, but he most probably fails miserably. Such is confirmed when Yamaguchi giggles, not at all deterred from teasing.
“My mom is going to be home,” Kei says when his house has just come into view, still blurry in the distance.
“Isn’t she usually?”
“Well, yes.” Kei shrugs. “She has a sixth sense for embarrassing me. So… I’m sure she’ll pick up on something, and I’ll never hear the end of it.” He pauses for a moment at the gate before mumbling, “I don’t think I can handle her teasing again so soon.”
“Oh, my god,” Yamaguchi snorts. “I knew you were both acting off that day. I knew.”
“You know everything, apparently,” Kei mutters teasingly, letting their hands slip apart so his mother can’t completely roast him as soon as he walks in the door.
(Unsurprisingly, she does anyway.)
—
For most of his life thus far, Kei has categorized people into three categories: annoying, tolerable, and Yamaguchi.
And, well, with no complete, specific parameters on that third one, it’s no wonder that Kei fell in love.