Work Text:
Tsukishima Kei wasn’t sure exactly when it happened but sometime over his second year of high school, he fell in love with Kageyama Tobio.
The admission was physically painful — his gut twisted so much that he could barely eat for days — but he prided himself on his conclusions inferred from careful observation and reasoning, and the evidence was unfortunately irrefutable.
And while he couldn’t pinpoint when their begrudging friendship had deepened into this preposterous attraction — the King had honestly thought that a tiger shark was a tiger-shark hybrid, resulting in a very interesting aquarium visit — if pressed, he’d say his downfall began with a bus ride.
Miyagi Prefectural Summer Interhigh Semi-Finals, June 2013:
After a brutally long 3-set match — each 30+ points, and the second match of their day — Karasuno was triumphant over Seijoh once again. But without Sugawara to help share the burden of being setter, Kageyama had been on the court the whole time. Exhaustion was etched into the uncharacteristic drag of his feet and droop of his eyelids.
His torpor had led him to be one of the last to get on the bus. Now that the team had grown in both prestige and number of players, free seats were limited. One spot had been left open next to Hinata — saved specifically for Kageyama, presumably — but Nishinoya and Tanaka one row back were already whisper-shouting a highlight reel of the game to the ginger. The other had been next to Kei himself — abandoned when Yamaguchi drifted away to quietly converse with Yachi.
Indecision was evident in the way Kageyama had glanced back and forth, but he ultimately dropped into the seat next to the acerbic blond, taking out his eye cover and mumbling, “I don’t want to deal with…that.”
Kei — on principle — hated that he agreed but he just pulled his headphones up, too drained for a witty retort.
Maybe 15 minutes into the hour-long drive, a weight against his shoulder indicated that the setter had fallen asleep. Using a long finger, Kei pushed on Kageyama’s temple until his head turned, flopping to the other side, before staring out the window once again, drifting off himself a short while later.
He’d never have believed it without photographic proof but Yamaguchi all but shoved it in his face: Kageyama — head once again on Kei’s shoulder — and himself, cheek pressed against raven black hair, mouth gently parted, glasses askew. His teammates were assholes — making it the group chat banner — but since he and Kageyama returned to their well-established norm the next day, not much ever came of the blackmail.
☽
Except —
Except Kei saved the picture. And then promptly deleted it, disgusted with himself, before saving it again. There were only a few people who would consider taking his phone, he rationalized, and amongst those who would, only Hinata was likely to dig around in his camera roll. He figured that those were acceptable odds and, should the worst come to pass, he'd rely on nobody believing the ginger about something so absolutely out of character.
He looked at the photo every so often, searching for something in the squish of his cheek against Kageyama's head, the relaxed slope of his shoulders. Kei didn’t recognize the boy in the photo: soft, approachable, amongst other things Kei decidedly was not.
Kei knew that his spiny personality kept him isolated. He donned snark and sarcasm like armor to avoid any possibility of emotional fallout. Too tall, too smart, too nearsighted, too into dinosaurs for his classmates — he had learned from a young age to only care for the opinion and regard of those closest to him. The kicker was that those closest to him were also the ones who could hurt him most.
He may not have been ‘happy’, but it was better than the alternative. He was content. He was okay.
Until he wasn’t.
He thought that Yamaguchi — his constant companion since elementary school — would be able to read between Kei’s lines, pick up the subtle difference between teasing and derision. Yamaguchi, who was naturally more emotionally intuitive than Kei ever tried to be.
Yamaguchi, who shyly confessed his crush on Yachi to Kei, asking if the taller boy thought he had a chance (he absolutely did — Yachi doted on Tadashi moreso than anyone else).
Yamaguchi — his first friend, his first crush, and his first heartbreak.
Still waters, as they say, run deep, but Kei didn’t realize he could feel so much until what he was feeling was pain.
Would things have been different if Kei were like that boy he saw in the photo? If he were approachable, vulnerable — soft smiles instead of caustic comebacks?
Speculating about whether Yamaguchi would have felt differently were Kei any other version of himself was moot. He wasn’t that boy — didn’t know how to be him in the waking world. And that wouldn’t be fair to either of them: neither the pressure to be something he no longer was — had he ever been like that, before Akiteru’s betrayal, before the harsh lesson that being different was tantamount to being unwelcome? — nor loving a lie.
☽☽
First Term Finals, July 2013:
As Kageyma and Hinata still only had about 3 brain cells between the two of them, finals were, predictably, a struggle. Ennoshita and Yamaguchi had sternly cautioned the pair against overwhelming Yachi — who still had difficulty telling the boys ‘no’ — when asking for help, especially since they were having trouble with different subjects.
The captain had pulled Kei aside. Help Kageyama, please, Ennoshita had asked. He’s only struggling with English. Tutoring him will be good practice for your Center Test.
A logical argument, but an unnecessary one. With Yamaguchi now also seated at the petite blonde’s side, tutoring Kageyama presented a valid reason to distance himself from that group, to take some sorely-needed space. Kei was begrudgingly grateful for the front and accepted the entreaty with only his characteristic amount of grumbling.
It wasn’t as much of a chore as it had been in their first year. Kageyama had proven that he was actually somewhat intelligent: he memorized new plays quickly and had the best spatial processing Kei had ever seen, all hinting at untapped potential. His issue lay in applying himself to academics and understanding the questions being asked of him. Volleyball took up 99% of his processing capacity — the other 1%, it seemed, was split between life’s basic functions and his hand care routine, leaving little bandwidth for schoolwork.
“C’mon, King,” Kei goaded after Kageyama got frustrated for the umpteenth time. “You want to play internationally, right? They’ll never take someone who can’t speak at least some English. Can’t have a translator with you on the court, Your Highness.”
English sucked as a language to learn, lacking rules and internal consistency. What didn’t suck was the familiarity of the glare Kageyama sent his way with every taunt. It was a comforting balm to his smarting heart.
In the quieter moments between frustrations and jabs, Kei found himself studying Kageyama’s face to make sure he understood what he was being taught. He couldn’t help but notice the furrow between Kageyama’s eyebrows, the flash of teeth biting his lower lip. His eyes were deep-water blue, glinting various shades of ‘determined’ as he worked through the passages. And once the setter's face settled back to its usual placidity, Kei figured he understood how some people found the other boy pretty.
☽☽☽
Miyagi Prefectural Spring Tournament Finals, October 2013:
Kei looked at the fist Kageyama held out for him to bump for a solid five seconds before tilting his eyes up to stare into the other’s face. The setter lowered his hand when he realized no reciprocation was coming, his satisfied smile dropping along with it. Tsukishima Kei didn’t fist bump, though he did find the King’s increasing usage of the action amusing.
Hinata had been switched out for the Noya in the back line, and Karasuno was having trouble getting past Date Tech’s Iron Wall. Their opponent had continued the grand tradition of recruiting one brick shithouse-of-a-blocker after another and Koganegawa had actually developed some skill as a setter — Karasuno's defeat at the Summer Interhigh prefectural finals was a persistently sore memory.
Despite this, he and Kageyama had successfully executed a time-lag spike off a high toss — a play they were inconsistently pulling off in practice. The landing from Kei’s jump reverberated through his bones at the same time that the thwack of the ball sounded from Date Tech’s court, in bounds. Breakpoint.
Kageyama had again been nominated to the All-Japan youth training camp 2 weeks prior, and he’d been unbearably happy ever since — borderline pleasant to those around him. And while he'd discovered fist-bumping as a first year, he’d only recently decided to impose his chosen celebratory gesture upon the rest of the team. Unfortunately, everyone else had decided to be unbearable as well, humoring the tyrant in the ridiculous action while on the court. Worse still, every touch of knuckles induced raucous cheers and laughter from the crowd, led by Akiteru and Saeko but joined by anyone who had met Kageyama ever.
The enthusiasm was contagious, it seemed, to everyone except Kei. Noya was heckling him for leaving Kageyama hanging, and Kei could hear Akiteru — even from the net — berating Noya. But they resumed their positions and the game went on.
Ten minutes later and it was Karasuno's match point. Kei tugged the back of Kageyama’s jersey to direct the block against one of Date Tech's second year spikers: two quick yanks to the left — block the middle with a two-second delay. The ball, aimed at the space the blond had purposefully left between their arms, ricocheted back toward the spiker as they closed the gap. The echo of the kill rang through the gym as the whistle blew.
Kageyama wore the same smirk as when Kei had spiked it earlier, even though he hadn't touched the ball.
The points I score are my points and the points my spikers score are my points too. He'd heard Kageyama say something to this effect before, when Hinata was gloating about a particularly well-aimed quick. The points we get from blocking are our points, Kei would venture to add, and all of them are points for our team. Maybe that was the sentiment that made him act. Maybe it was the way the overhead lights played off of whirlpools of cobalt, shining with the joy of their collective victory.
Kei slowly lifted his right arm, fist stretched out towards the setter. He rolled his eyes, faux-indignant at being left waiting as Kageyama failed to respond.
Kageyama’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he smiled in earnest and raised his own fist.
☽☽☽☽
Second Term Finals, December 2013:
Leading up to finals week of their second trimester, all of the third years agreed to study together. Yamaguchi’s apartment was on the smaller side for four teenage boys and Yachi, who liked to spread her study materials out. Akiteru was back in town and would be annoying in his hovering, making the Tsukishima home less than ideal. Hinata’s house required a trek over the mountain, and his younger sister would have probably been a distraction. The last time they’d all congregated at Hinata’s, Natsu had peppered Yachi with questions before sitting next to the older girl and shyly smiling at Yamaguchi.
Kei would know that look even if Natsu weren’t just about as subtle as her brother — which was to say, not at all. He knew that look, had harbored it inside himself at every smile Yamaguchi sent his way. Which were many — it was part of Tadashi’s charm, really. Sunny smiles and easy camaraderie, despite Kei being anything but. Months had passed since Yamaguchi and Yachi had started dating and Kei was grateful that he’d been able to move on, only a vague twinge of under-used heart strings to remember his heart-break by.
“We can use my house,” Kageyama offered. Yachi had been quick to offer her apartment the previous three times, but they had all agreed that it was unfair to have her host the group once again. “Nobody’s there.”
They thought that maybe he meant he didn’t have siblings or his parents weren’t home but no, he really meant nobody was there.
Over the five full Saturdays the group spent at Kageyama's house, they didn't see anyone else. Not his parents, not the older sister they learned about from the family photos on the wall, not the butler Kei secretly suspected he might have.
“Where are your parents?” Yachi asked as the group migrated to the kitchen when Kageyama offered to cook dinner.
“Tokyo,” he answered simply.
“Oh! What time will they be back?” The clock already read 20:45.
“Uhh…they won’t be — they live there.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was the flavor of yoghurt he'd gotten from the vending machine earlier that day and not an absolute revelation to the rest of them.
“Your parents live in Tokyo, while you live here. Alone,” Yachi prodded.
“Yes.”
“By yourself.”
It wasn't necessarily unusual — Kei knew of a few students at Karasuno in the same situation. But Kageyama? Whom they'd known for a year and a half already? Why hadn't this come up sooner? And didn't his parents know that their son didn't have a self-preserving bone in his body?
Kageyama adopted his thinking face — very similar to his indigestion face, but lacking the pained tilt to the corner of his mouth: he was double-checking his understanding of ‘alone’ in light of Yachi's persistent questioning. After a moment of computation, he nodded.
“Yes, alone by myself.”
“Why don’t you live with them? Maybe you could go to Nekoma with Kenma and –” Hinata was practically vibrating at the idea as his imagination took off.
“You trying to get rid of me, boke? They moved to Tokyo for work last summer and it didn’t make sense for me to switch schools, cause of volleyball.”
‘Cause of volleyball’ was probably the most Kageyama explanation Kageyama had ever given. As if it explained why he, a sixteen-year-old, lived in a house by himself. As if it explained why his parents had not forced him to move with them.
“That makes no sense,” Kei argued.
Kageyama gave him a measured look.
“All the good Tokyo schools already have starting setters. I wouldn’t be able to replace them with less than a year on the team. And I was basically living here by myself anyways, it’s not that much different.”
The trio stared at him.
“How long have you been alone?” Yachi asked, gently.
“Ummm…” Kageyama backtracked through the timeline of his life. “Halfway through my last year of junior high.”
And suddenly so much made sense. Kei revised his earlier presumption: volleyball took up only 95% of Kageyama’s processing. The other 5% was for keeping himself alive. No wonder the setter sucked at academics — no one was around to make sure he sat down and actually did his work. Left to his own devices, Kageyama would absolutely only focus on volleyball.
They opted for take out and a movie that night, and Kageyama was henceforth banned from cooking for them in the future. ‘Edible’ was the most complimentary way to describe what came out of the wok, but Kei felt an uncharacteristic magnanimity in light of the night’s revelations while also silently vowing to never again eat anything Kageyama made.
On his walk home, he pulled out his phone.
To: Sugawara-san
22:28
Sugawara-san
Did you know Kageyama was living alone?
From: Sugawara-san
22:30
…that explains a lot
but y r u the one telling me this
and not like yacchan or yamaguchi?
From: Sugawara-san
22:32
…what did yamaguchi have 2 say about it?
To: Sugawara-san
22:32
That he’s been by himself for a while now and hasn’t died yet
From: Sugawara-san
22:33
roflz
kags is lucky to have a friend like u tsukki
To: Sugawara-san
22:33
We’re not friends
Don’t call me Tsukki
From: Sugawara-san
22:34
mmm noya says otherwise
u fist bump all ur ‘not-friends’?
From: Sugawara-san
22:36
take care of him for us tsukki
To: Sugawara-san
22:38
Please text like the university student you are
Don’t call me Tsukki
☽☽☽☽☽
Spring Nationals, Round One, January 2014:
The first time Kageyama called him ‘Kei’ took him by surprise. He nearly choked on his spit.
They were on the court — when weren’t they, really — in the first round of nationals and they were an older, more experienced team, less prone to speeding up when stressed, But the first touch had been a low pass that Kageyama had to pull a Miya Atsumu to get under. The set happened quickly — by necessity — and Kageyama expended more breath on getting into the lunge than he normally would.
“Kei!”
He got it, it was logical. One syllable — two morae — was shorter, easier to get out in a hurry than ‘Tsukishima’. Kei nearly tripped but instead managed to launch himself up - up - up and the ball hit his hand on his downswing, like it did 99 out of 100 times. He’d been hitting those tosses for two years and they still creeped him out.
The set wasn’t to his full spiking height — eeked painful inches higher by Kageyama in the year since the setter told him he could fly — it couldn’t be without time for a full run-up — but Kei aimed for the opponents’ fingertips and got the block-out all the same.
There were cheers from the crowd, cheers from their substitute box, cheers from some of the first year starters, but Yamaguchi and Hinata were uncharacteristically silent, eyes flickering between the pair even as Tanaka gave Kageyama a hearty slap on the back as he sat on the floor. Kei himself just stared at the setter.
The other boy rose, pink creeping down his neck from where it blossomed under the angle of his jaw. He was pointedly avoiding eye contact with Kei, looking instead at the blond’s shoulder.
“Umm…sorry,” he mumbled, once close enough that Kei could hear. “It was — Tsukishima is — the set and — Kei is shorter and —”
More surprising than having used his given name was the fact that Kageyama was blushing about it. Kageyama, who had bluntly told Nishinoya — Nishinoya — that he was in the way. Kageyama, who still unironically asked Hinata if he needed to shit before every match. Kageyama, whom many believed had the emotional range of a goldfish — the baked kind.
Kageyama was blushing.
“It’s fine, King. Nice toss.”
“Nice kill,” Tobio muttered.
Kageyama reverted to ‘Tsukishima’ for the rest of the game, the event evidently a one-off, but his given name still echoed in his ears. Only his mother and brother called him Kei — to the rest of the world he was ‘Tsukishima’ or, amongst the more fearless of the volleyball team, ‘Tsukki’. ‘Kei’ was reserved for family, which Kageyama certainly was not.
So why wasn’t he more bothered by it?
☽☽☽☽☽☽
Afternoon Practice, January 2014:
Kei could admit that he was a passable setter — he’d done well enough when the situation called for it — but it wasn’t his preferred position. He liked it even less when he could feel Kageyama’s eyes boring into his back. That gaze was unnerving. It itched. It made him want to do well. It sucked.
Practice that day consisted of a match of switched positions — one of the training exercises Kageyama had brought back from his first All Japan Youth Camp.
Kei would rather have played libero — no serving, no spiking, more opportunities to practice his admittedly weak receives — but since Kageyama was rolling around like the second coming of Noya, a simple switch wasn’t an option.
He wasn’t accustomed to playing for the entirety of a set. He was older, stronger, and had been taking volleyball more seriously than when he started high school but all the same, his stamina just wasn’t suited for the constant motion and the other team could tell.
Itadori, a first year who bore an uncanny resemblance to Asahi both in looks and physical abilities, was jumping to spike. The ball was aimed directly at him, no doubt inspired by one of Yamaguchi’s proven tactics.
Kei had to admit that he’d do the same thing: make the setter take first-touch and watch the whole offense fall apart.
He lunged backwards to receive the hit, directing the pass towards where Kageyama could pull off a back-line set, but the force of impact put him on his ass. Receiving sucked just as much as setting, he decided. He’d much rather get the one-touch off a block, even at the risk of dislocating a joint.
“Kageya —” he called but the other boy was already in motion, launching off the line marked on the floor. Perfect jump, perfect set, from anywhere on the court. Creepy.
And then there was pressure on his knee, warm even through the foam of the pads. Kei looked up into Kageyama’s face, breathing hard. His usual concentrated stoicism was softened by the crinkles at the edges of his eyes, raised to something more along with the corners of his mouth.
“Nice receive. Nice tosses, too. Come on.”
The hand touching him retreated, but only far enough to be offered to help Kei stand.
He took it.
When had Kageyama picked up the emotional intelligence to reassure his teammates? Kei watched him berate Itadori for trying that tactic against a team with two setters on the court — despite the kid clearly having already come to the same conclusion — and he realized he hadn’t.
Kageyama didn’t do encouragement. He dealt in raw truths.
He readjusted the knee pads, but the phantom warmth persisted.
☽☽☽☽☽☽☽
After a Morning Practice, February 2014:
Winter lingered and practices continued without the third years, now that graduation and university enrollment had replaced the looming specter of upcoming tournaments.
And yet Kei found Ennoshita leaning against the outside wall of the second gym, staring at the field behind the building.
“Ennoshita-san?” he called.
Ennoshita glanced at him over his shoulder, amusement clear in his crinkled eyes and fond smile, before turning back.
“Morning Tsukki,” the older boy said, mirth bubbling in his voice.
There must have been something in the air, something that eased his anxieties over finals and his impending advancement to third year, something that piqued his interest, and he joined his senpai.
There in the grass was Kageyama, crouched down and arm outstretched. The cat that lived behind the school — the cat that Kei had only ever seen hissing and spitting at the setter on every occasion that Kageyama had tried to get close to it — was sniffing the treat the younger boy held in his upturned palm.
“Seems like we have a team pet,” Ennoshita chuckled quietly.
“Which one of them?” Kei shot. Gentle morning light filtered through the dewy frost evaporating from the grass, casting everything in a pale yellow glow. The snark was reflex at this point, really — the scene was borderline idyllic, and he didn’t mean to disturb it. At least his tone was fond.
Ennoshita let out a soft bark of laughter, catching the setter’s attention.
He looked away from the cat towards the pair. And — oh — that golden haze could have been coming from Kageyama’s face itself. His smile wasn’t quite like any Kei had seen him sport before, pride and joy and a touch of disbelief all rolled into a quirk of his lips.
“He looks so happy,” Ennoshita huffed.
He really did.
And that same something that had pulled Kei towards this spot now moved languid and sweet through his veins, and he smiled back.
He couldn’t get the sight out of his mind for the rest of the day. Kageyama, crouching in front of a cat, looking the happiest he’d ever seen him. Unashamed to be caught basically bribing the animal to pay him attention.
And wasn’t that just who Kageyama was? Unapologetically himself, honest in nearly every aspect of his character? Unafraid to show his passions, not worried about being mocked? Uncaring for how he was perceived, so long as it didn’t interfere with his ability to do the things he loved?
☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽
From then on it was a series of small nothings that kept bringing Kageyama to the forefront of his mind.
A jostled shoulder at huddle when the other stood too close, the press of fingertips from a passed water bottle. When even looking at the vending machine made him think of Kageyama, Kei knew. He’d been here before. Sang this song, danced this dance, left the ball with his card blank and his heart sore.
Apparently he had a type and it was ‘people he wishes he could be more like’, even if they were preposterously unsuited for each other.
He took the next day off of school.
He genuinely felt ill.
☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽
Kei’s Sick Day, March 2014:
“Nii-chan.”
Kei bit the bullet when he saw that his brother was home. The conversation would be awkward and painful and he would definitely consider walking out into traffic at least once in the middle of it, but he certainly wasn’t going to his mother with his concerns.
Akiteru looked up from the pot on the stove to where Kei was leaning against the kitchen door frame.
“What do you do when you…like someone?”
Kei knew he’d caught his brother off guard. This was a far cry from their standard topics of conversation — mainly volleyball, university and if the other liked the most recent episode of One Piece. They’d mostly rebuilt the trust lost between them, with Akiteru an embarrassingly loud presence at many of their games this past year, but emotions were not something Kei talked about with anyone.
“That’s…umm…” Akiteru floundered.
“Never mind,” Kei blurted out, feeling his ears start to burn. He turned to escape when —
“Wait, wait — Kei, hold on!”
He paused but didn’t turn. Akiteru didn’t need to see the blush on his face — he had enough of a view of the undoubtedly red back of his neck.
“There’s a few things you can do,” he began, softly, “when you like someone. I mean, mainly you can tell them or you can not tell them, but there are ways —”
“I got it,” Kei interrupted, halting the verbal train wreck Akiteru was about to spew but facing him nonetheless.
“Sorry,” Akiteru laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “I just wasn’t expecting this — not after…” Not after Akiteru had lied and Kei had caught him. Not after Kei had brushed off his concerns when Yamaguchi had stopped coming over. Not when Kei had explained it away with a curt ‘he’s dating Yachi now’ and Akiteru had read between the lines.
There was an olive branch held between them now, though both handled it with the care due a stick of dynamite.
“Anyways, um, what I would do depends on if I thought they liked me back.”
“Oh.”
“…so…do they? Like you back?”
Did Kageyama? He was hard to read, emotionally shuttered in a way that differed from the acid-filled moat Kei had constructed to keep others out. But there were quick glances, presses of shoulders. His given name from the other’s mouth. That brilliant smile drenched in morning sunlight.
“I…” he hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“Can I ask…will you tell me who it is?”
The floor was suddenly very interesting and Kei considered just leaving, cutting off the conversation when he was still safe and nobody but him knew what lurked in the neglected corners of his heart.
But he wanted the advice, so he spit out the name.
“I…that was not who I expected,” Akiteru said after a beat of prolonged silence. “But, like, I can see it?”
“You can?” Disbelief colored his words.
His brother laughed. The rush of relief at the validation took him by surprise and the knot in his gut eased.
“Yeah, I can. Why? How are you feeling?”
“Horrified.”
“That’s almost a given with you, Kei. But Kageyama’s a great guy — a little oblivious and really focused on volleyball, but he has a good heart, from what I can tell. If he’s who you want, I actually think you’d be good for each other. He’ll definitely challenge you. But tell me why you’re not sure about how he feels.”
♛
The Day After Kei’s Sick Day, March 2014:
Kageyama poked his head into Kei’s classroom at lunch, carton of milk already raised to his mouth and a bento in his hand. He smiled as his eyes found Kei’s and he trotted in.
“Hey,” he said, standing over the blond’s desk. “Lunch?”
Kei shrugged. “Left mine at home today.” A lie: his bento was actually sitting in his meticulously packed bag — and he was somewhat hungry — but he didn’t want to eat with Kageyama. Not if he was going to be assaulted with the visual of sapphire eyes and that mouth wrapped around a straw.
“Oh. We can split mine?”
They could not. He remembered how rice came out of the cooker burnt — how was beyond him — on the sole occasion they had let Kageyama cook for them. Yamaguchi may have pointed out that he hadn’t died yet but Kei figured that that didn’t preclude a fair bit of food poisoning.
Kei was too proud to ‘fortuitously’ find his lunch and Kageyama was too oblivious to take a hint, so they ended up in front of the vending machines.
Kei tossed him a milk carton.
“I already had one?”
“But you usually have two, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Kageyama nodded slowly — Kei’d call it contemplatively if he believed there were enough thoughts in Kageyama’s head to warrant the word.
This was what he wanted? His gut gave another jolt.
“Missed you yesterday,” Kageyama said halfway through the lunch period, having met up with the others. It had been mostly silent up until then, with Yachi, Yamaguchi and Hinata going over one of Hinata’s math worksheets. Peaceful. Good for Kei to sort his thoughts and try to make sense of his feelings.
‘Missed you yesterday.’ Not ‘we missed you’ or ‘missed you at practice’ — just, ‘missed you.’
Fuck. Now he was overanalyzing.
“Didn’t feel well,” he answered.
Kageyama’s brow furrowed.
“Feeling better today?”
Kei looked at him for a few long seconds.
I actually think you’d be good for each other.
“Yeah. I think I am.”