Chapter Text
Tadashi has doubts.
He has them about volleyball, schoolwork, his friendships, the future and scores of other, less important things. But his very least favorites are the doubts he has about him and Tsukishima.
He doesn’t blame Tsukki for these, though, because 1) it’s not his fault and 2) that’s just the way he is. Tadashi’s always known this. He should accept it, he should be used to it, and it really shouldn’t make him feel the way it does.
Who Tadashi does blame for these doubts are all the couples he sees at school. They hold hands and open doors for one another. They sit real close in the courtyard and carry each other’s books. Sometimes Tadashi even sees couples kiss at school, whether it be on the cheek as a goodbye after the bell rings or out by the front stairs before classes start just because.
And Tadashi’s not saying he wants these things from Tsukki, because he doesn’t, but therein lies the problem.
He kind of does.
But he shouldn’t. Because these things just aren’t Tsukki. Tsukki probably won’t carry his books or kiss him on the cheek in the hallway just because or leave pretty flowers on his desk when he’s having a not-so-good day. Tadashi is aware of this.
But he can’t lie that it disenchants him to watch other couples parade around school with their love pinned to one another for the whole world to see, whether it be in the form of bouquets or valentines or candies or bright, happy beams. Tsukki does exactly zero of these things. It frays Tadashi’s already constantly frayed nerves, and this is an understatement. He wonders if Tsukki actually loves him.
And he hates to doubt this because it’s just so unfair to the both of them. But where are Tadashi’s flowers—Tadashi’s bells and whistles and declarations of love from his own love?
So, he doubts.
Because where’s the proof?
*
It’s spring, so the road home is lined with blooms of regal red and gold.
“Do you like flowers, Tsukki?”
Tsukki hums. “Not particularly.”
Tadashi knows this. Tsukki knows that Tadashi knows this.
“What if I got them for you?”
Tsukki looks askance at him before he returns his gaze to the pavement that stretches out before them.
“You’d get me flowers?” he asks.
“I’d get you anything, probably.”
Tadashi reaches over and swipes his fingers across the smooth skin of Tsukki’s wrist. Tsukki’s grin is as fleeting as ever but it still makes Tadashi’s heart swell. When he goes to let his arm fall back to his side, Tsukki catches him with a loose grip on his wrist.
“They’d have to be really nice flowers,” Tsukki tells him conversationally.
“Purple and red. Got it, Tsukki,” Tadashi replies—Tsukki’s favorite colors.
*
They’ve been together for a long time. Since before Karasuno, since before (and then after) Tsukki gave two shits about volleyball, since before Tadashi even thought himself worthy of dating someone as cool and good looking as his best friend.
“Almost a year and a half,” Tadashi tells Hinata when he asks.
They’re alone in the club room and they try to keep their voices low. Tadashi’s pretty sure Tsukki wouldn’t be keen on the entire team knowing. He’d probably be mad—or irritated, rather, because Tadashi can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen him red-faced angry in six whole years—if he knew Tadashi had told Hinata.
“Whoa!” Hinata gapes. “That’s a long time, Yamaguchi.”
“It’s exactly eighteen months next week.”
“Exciting! I’m sure Tsukishima will get you something then.”
Tadashi nods though he’s unsure if Tsukki’s even aware of the upcoming occasion.
“And if he doesn’t,” Hinata beams, jabbing a thumb to his chest, “I will!”
*
Tadashi watches during lunch as a boy and girl hug each other in the courtyard. It’s a grand hug; excited and enthusiastic. He even picks her up and twirls her around once for good measure. Tadashi’s face heats up inexplicably and he looks back to his food. Tsukki stills across from him, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.
“You’re blushing,” he mentions. “What are you thinking about, string bean?”
Tadashi wants to say something that’ll make Tsukki blush too but chickens out.
“Nothing. I don’t know.”
Tsukki eyes him. “Are you sure?”
Tadashi nods and nudges their feet together under the table. He shovels bite after bite of rice into his mouth as he watches the hugging couple sit far too close to one another at the other end of the courtyard. But it’s no good. Tadashi’s starved for affection. He watches the curve of Tsukki’s throat as he swallows.
“Tsukki,” he says later on as they walk back into the building. He feels brave.
“What?”
“Can I have a hug?”
Tsukki stops where he stands and raises an eyebrow at him. With a steady hand, he adjusts his glasses. His eyes stare somewhere around the collar of Tadashi’s shirt for a few seconds before they flit to meet Tadashi’s open gaze. He needlessly adjusts his glasses once more.
“Here?” he asks.
Tadashi’s confidence shatters; a porcelain doll on travertine tile.
“Oh,” he mumbles. “I guess not, no.”
They enter the school.
*
Maybe Tadashi watches too many films of the romance genre. He constantly reminds himself that not every interaction has to be cinematic and symbolic. He thinks experience would have taught him this by now. Romance movies are big, fat lies.
“Nobody kisses in the rain this much,” Tsukki insists when Tadashi has them watch one together.
“Maybe you don’t,” he teases.
“If I don’t, I certainly hope you don’t.”
Tadashi snickers and Tsukki shoots him the grin he saves for when they’re alone.
They don’t kiss a lot, so Tadashi savors the times when they do. They’re always more chaste than Tadashi would like. Tsukki is always the one to break them so Tadashi doesn’t push, though he really wants to sometimes. They usually stop right around the time Tadashi starts to squirm in Tsukki’s lap. As a result, Tadashi feels a pavlovian wave of disappointment when Tsukki puts his glasses back on (wherever, whenever).
It’s kind of discouraging that Tsukki doesn’t even look remotely interested during the steamy scenes of the movie. Tadashi tries to take it with a grain of salt. He finds Tsukki’s hand and brings it to his lap, innocently weaving their fingers together.
Tsukki at least blushes at that.
*
“Y’know, one of the top three reasons why people break up is because of a high variance in physical attractiveness,” Tadashi tells Tsukki on a day he’s feeling especially insecure.
His voice echoes in the empty gym. Tsukki grabs the volleyball out of the air when Tadashi bumps it to him and holds it under his arm. He puts his hand on his hip. Tadashi shifts his weight from foot to foot—he thinks Tsukki looks pretty sexy when he does that.
“Why are you telling me this?” Tsukki drones.
Tadashi figures it’s pretty obvious why he’d mention that, but Tsukki looks genuinely perplexed. Tadashi shrugs at him, brow furrowed.
“What are the other two?” implores Tsukki.
Tadashi recites his research, “Dissimilar ages and a difference in education, Tsukki.”
Tsukki nods like he appreciates the insight. He tosses the ball in front of him and bumps it to Tadashi. He bumps it back, but it’s a little off and Tsukki has to step to the left to receive it.
“Looks like we don’t have to worry about any of them, then.”
Tadashi flinches and misses the next bump entirely.
“You’re full of shit, Tsukki,” he mutters to himself.
“What?” calls Tsukki, standing from where he’d bent down to pick up the lost ball.
Tadashi doesn’t say it again.
*
Just because Tadashi lent his science notes to this blonde girl in his class does not mean he wants to kiss her. Which is why he is stunned into stillness when she sequesters him behind the basketball gym and leans forward with her lips puckered. Tadashi quite literally has no idea what to do.
“Hey?” comes Tsukki’s half-question, half-exclamation from a few yards away.
Tadashi lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The girl skitters off after a surprised yelp and Tadashi watches her go, brow pinched and mouth agape. Tadashi turns back to Tsukki.
He looks pissed.
“What’s wrong?” Tadashi asks dumbly.
“Take a guess,” Tsukki grumbles.
“That was really weird. I only let her borrow my science notes, what the hell?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Sorry, Tsukki.”
Tadashi looks down at the notebook in his hand. It’s still flipped open to the page littered with tidy scribbles about genetic drift, except now there’s an addition in the margin. Tsukki snatches the notebook from Tadashi’s hands and glares at the offending blue ink. A pretty pink blooms over Tsukki’s porcelain face.
“Her phone number, too?” he groans. “How inappropriate.”
“Guess so. Super weird,” Tadashi says again.
The paper crinkles under Tsukki’s grip. Tadashi cocks his head at him and Tsukki sighs.
“Sorry,” Tsukki apologizes randomly. “I know jealousy is unsightly. But—”
He kisses Tadashi then, hard. Tadashi’s toes curl in his sneakers.
It’s not the proof he needs—jealousy makes a lot of smart people do really impulsive and uncharacteristic things—but Tsukki feels so good, and Tadashi is so used to being the jealous one that he can’t help but feel just a smidgen of satisfaction. He thinks he’s earned that much.
*
Tadashi can’t find flowers growing that he thinks Tsukki will like, so he buys them. One red, one purple.
Tsukki may not do things like this for him, but Tadashi can’t resist doing them for Tsukki. He’ll let his proof encompass and overwhelm them both while he waits impatiently for Tsukki’s to leak through the cracks.
Tadashi’s grandmother had given him the money after he’d told her what it was for. The purple is catmint and the red is geranium, the vendor informed him. Tadashi is gentle as he places them in a tiny vase from under his kitchen sink. He uses both hands when he carries it to Tsukki’s.
No one answers the door when he knocks, but it’s unlocked. He finds Tsukki on his bed facing the ceiling, eyes closed and headphones over his ears. Tadashi bites his lip. He places his gift on the top shelf of Tsukki’s desk next to a stack of astrology books. Carefully, he climbs onto the bed. Tsukki doesn’t stir when the mattress dips under Tadashi’s slight weight. He crawls between Tsukki’s legs and lies down. His chest is warm under Tadashi’s freckled cheek.
“My Tadashi,” Tsukki breathes as a greeting.
“Kei, love Kei,” Tadashi says back even though Tsukki won’t hear him.
*
“Seduce him!” suggests Hinata.
Tadashi raises his eyebrows, a balmy blush creeping over his face.
“What?” he says. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can!” Hinata claims. “It’ll totally work, I bet.”
Tadashi smacks his hands to his cheeks and shakes his head back and forth.
“No, I mean, I can’t do that. Like, me. Physically. I can’t do that.”
Hinata stares at him quizzically. “I don’t get it.”
“I’m just not—and we don’t—we don’t do that.”
“Yamaguchi, use your words!”
“I mean, we kiss sometimes, but. I’m not sure if he really thinks of me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Um,” struggles Tadashi, “like sexy, and stuff.”
“But you’re dating?”
“So?”
“So he definitely does!”
“I don’t think that’s how that works.”
“It is, though. That’s literally how that works.”
“I don’t know,” whines Tadashi.
Hinata beams and pats his shoulder reassuringly.
“It can’t hurt to try, right?”
*
“What’s your passcode?” Hinata asks as he shakes Tsukki’s phone in the space by his ear.
“No,” is Tsukki’s definitive answer, “and why do you have that? Give it back.”
“Me and Kageyama just need to do some calculations for our homework! His phone is dead and mine is from like, two thousand and five, so.”
“Not even a calculator could help you morons.”
“What’s your passcode? What’s your passcode? What’s your passcode?”
“Yamaguchi, get an AED,” Tsukki requests with disinterest, “I think I’m having a stroke.”
“What do you have to hide, anyway?” asks Hinata.
Tadashi stares between the two of them. Tsukki sighs down at the assignment he’s trying to complete.
“You piss me off. Give me my phone.”
“Huh, Tsukishima? What’s on here? Huh, huh?”
Even Tadashi couldn’t answer that question. He only ever handles Tsukki’s phone when he asks him to skip a song, and even then the phone remains locked. But Tsukki having something incriminating on his phone is about as likely as him giving his password to Hinata in the first place.
*
“What do you think of me, Tsukki?”
Tsukki’s pencil stills over the page. They sit on his bedroom floor, homework spilling from their backpacks and onto the hardwood in front of them. Tadashi takes a steadying breath and turns his head to meet Tsukki’s gaze. Tsukki stares hard at him.
“Don’t,” Tsukki sighs.
“Don’t what?”
“You know I’m not good at—that.”
“You’re good at everything, Tsukki.” Tsukki’s pencil starts to move once more and Tadashi hesitantly clarifies, “I meant physically. What do you think of me, y’know, physically?”
Tsukki sighs again and sets his pencil completely down this time. He presses the cool back of his hand to Tadashi’s forehead. Tadashi leans into the touch like a cat.
“Yamaguchi, what?” Tsukki asks. “Do you have a fever?”
“No, Tsukki.”
“I don’t see why you’d ask me that, then.”
“Oh. Okay,” Tadashi responds dejectedly.
Tsukki’s golden eyes rake over his flushed face for a good minute before he finally turns away. Tsukki shifts a bit closer to him but Tadashi’s too devastated to notice. He wonders if he’s too skinny, too slight, too tall, if his shoulders aren’t broad enough, if his freckles turn Tsukki off. Maybe he prefers a different hair color because brown doesn’t quite do the trick like his own blond does for Tadashi.
He starts when Tsukki clears his throat to speak.
“Have you gotten to number three yet?”
*
They’re alone in Tsukki’s living room one evening just before his mother’s home from work. Spring rain taps pleasantly at the windowpanes like it wants to be let in. The television is on—some documentary Tsukki’s recorded about the planets—but Tadashi is entirely distracted.
Tsukki is all blond hair and golden-brown eyes and pale, smooth skin where he sits next to him on the floor. They drink hot chocolate despite the mild temperature outside and Tadashi’s pretty sure Tsukki’s mouth would be nice and warm if he kissed into it. He watches the flex of Tsukki’s arm as he absently rubs his palm over his knee.
“You’re thinking about doing something,” Tsukki insists, still facing the television.
“Says who?” Tadashi protests childishly.
“I can tell. You’re so predictable.”
“I am?”
Tsukki nods, a delicious smirk on his lips. Tadashi squints at him.
He flips the script.
He checks that their mugs are on the table behind them and tackles Tsukki to the living room floor. Tsukki lets out a yelp when his back hits the carpet. Tadashi beams down at him and Tsukki has half a mind to pluck his glasses from his face and place them on the coffee table before he pulls Tadashi down with him.
They struggle with one another across the floor, their groans of protest and huffs of laughter practically interchangeable. Tsukki’s on top, then Tadashi, then Tsukki again, peering down at him with wild eyes. Distracted by Tsukki’s weight atop him, Tadashi forgets to fight back. The narration of the television is mere background noise to their panting. Tsukki’s lip curls over white teeth in a wicked sort of grin.
“Not fair, Tsukki,” huffs Tadashi, “you’re stronger than me.”
“Barely.”
“And taller.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Tsukki singsongs.
“They’re not excuses if they’re facts.”
“Is that so?”
When Tadashi nods, the back of his head scrapes against the tan carpet with a soft sound.
Tsukki goes on with a lilt, “I bet you look pretty hilarious right now, trapped under me like this. Too bad I can’t see you that clearly. Next time you want to wrestle me, Tadashi—and lose—please take my glasses off for me first.”
“But then I’d lose the element of surprise,” Tadashi pants.
Tsukki casually checks his nails. “We all have to make sacrifices.”
“I’ll just fake like I’m going to kiss you and then tackle you instead.”
The statement throws Tsukki off enough that Tadashi’s able to shove him to the side and roll them around so Tsukki’s the one on the ground. Tadashi proudly situates his knees astride Tsukki’s stomach and places his hands firmly on his chest. Tsukki looks up at him, eyes wide with bewilderment.
“You tricked me,” Tsukki tells him, voice laced with mock betrayal.
“All’s fair in love and war, Tsukki.”
“Whatever. Get off, string bean. You’re heavier than you look.”
“Nah,” Tadashi disagrees.
He moves his hands from Tsukki’s chest to cup his face. A quiet moment drags between them. The narrator of the forgotten space documentary rambles on about Jupiter’s rings. Tsukki blinks owlishly up at him. Tadashi wants to put his glasses back on so he can see, but they’re all the way across the room.
In a spell of uncharacteristic confidence, Tadashi fingers the hem of his t-shirt. His hands tremble only slightly as he pulls it from himself. Tsukki blinks once more, so slowly, and then again. Golden eyes watch the white shirt crumple to the floor next to them.
“What are you doing?” he inquires.
Tadashi places his hands on either side of Tsukki’s shoulders and shuffles further down so he straddles Tsukki’s hips rather than his stomach. His fingers twitch when Tsukki sucks in a sharp breath. Tadashi bites his lip at the feeling of Tsukki’s sharp hipbones on the insides of his thighs and he shifts himself slightly, scuffed knees scraping over carpet.
Tsukki’s attempts to keep his composure are visible. His mouth slackens before he pulls his lips into a straight line. He keeps his eyes pointedly off of Tadashi’s tan, bare chest. Tadashi absently wonders how stark the contrast of their complexions would be if Tsukki laid his palm flat over his navel.
“We’re in a very compromising position,” Tsukki informs flatly.
“That’s kind of the point, Tsukki.”
He commands, “Off.”
Frustration prickles inside Tadashi’s chest but he ignores it and wipes the indignant pout from his face. He leans over Tsukki and presses their mouths together in a kiss, and there are a few slow seconds in which Tadashi doubts Tsukki will kiss him back.
But then Tsukki cocks his head, increasing warm pressure against soft, pliable lips. Tadashi pushes a pleased sigh into Tsukki’s slick mouth. His fingertips press into the thin fabric over Tsukki’s chest. Tsukki is always unsure of what to do with his hands in situations like these, Tadashi knows, so he’s surprised when he feels blunt fingernails scratching lightly over the tops of his knees. He drags them up Tadashi’s thighs but stops when he reaches the hem of his shorts.
Tadashi would push them up for him, but he’s afraid Tsukki will stop if he leans away for even a second. Flat on Tsukki’s chest, Tadashi’s hands belatedly start to shake with nerves. He moves one into Tsukki’s hair, fingers threading through silken strands of blond. All he can hear is the banging of blood in his eardrums and the soft, wet smack of their lips together. He squirms compulsively. Underneath him, Tsukki hums a low note.
He’s about to try for it again, to kiss through his nerves, his shaking and his doubts, when Tsukki pushes him back with a firm hand on his chest. Tadashi leans heavily against it.
“Yamaguchi. Stop.”
Just like that, it’s over.
Tadashi acquiesces. Tsukki slithers out from under him with ease and takes great care in dressing Tadashi back in his shirt. Tadashi sighs as Tsukki rubs his palms down his front to smooth the wrinkles in the white fabric. He probably feels Tadashi’s heart against his palm as it attempts to escape his ribcage.
In their silence, Tadashi learns that Saturn is the flattest of all eight planets. Tsukki probably already knows this.
*
“Tsukki, have you ever written a love letter?”
Walking beside him, Tsukki turns his head to give Tadashi a look. Tadashi grins out of habit and Tsukki looks back to the road. He adjusts the shoulder strap of his schoolbag.
“If you haven’t received one, I haven’t written one.”
“Oh,” replies Tadashi, pleased.
“Have you received one?” Tsukki asks as he taps at his phone.
“I have, actually. I was seven and it was on Hello Kitty stationary.”
“How am I supposed to compete with that?”
Their footfalls and Tadashi’s bright laugh are loud in the quiet evening atmosphere.
“It’s the love letters you get that I worry about.”
“What?” Tsukki inquires, his brow furrowing. Tadashi raises an eyebrow at him and Tsukki realizes. “Oh, from, uh,” he waves his free hand around in a vague fashion, “…girls.”
“Yeah. Girls. Lots and lots of girls.”
“You exaggerate, string bean.”
Tadashi stuffs his hands in his pockets and mumbles, “Barely.”
Jealousy looks terrible on him and he knows it. Not to mention the fact that Tsukki doesn’t like it. Tadashi curls his fingers into his palms and listens to the dull tapping of Tsukki’s finger on his phone screen. It’s a while before he responds.
“You have no competition,” Tsukki mentions offhandedly, “Tadashi has no competition.”
“Tadashi does, though.”
He levels Tadashi with a bored look. His stare lingers for a handful of seconds before he turns away.
“You have no competition,” he says again.
Tsukki very rarely repeats himself, so Tadashi stays quiet after that. If Tsukki wasn’t holding his phone, he’d probably try to grab his hand despite being in public. Tsukki’s statement rolls around heavily in his head on their walk home like a wrecking ball.
Tadashi just wishes it were true.