Chapter Text
SATURDAY, 22:57
The music is loud, too loud, even in the bathroom with the door shut. It’s obnoxious, but not at all unexpected, and with the shitty makeshift water bottle bong pressed against his lips and the heat radiating deep in his chest, Kei finds that he can’t bring himself to care too much. After a moment, he leans forward, tilts his head back, and lets the smoke pour out of his mouth toward the ceiling before passing the bottle to Yamaguchi. The two of them are sitting next to each other in the bathtub, their feet grazing the bathroom floor on the other side of the tub’s panel.
“She’s so hot,” murmurs Kunimi, who is looking at his phone from his perch on top of the toilet tank next to Yamaguchi. His feet rest on the closed toilet lid and, due to his long legs, he looks slightly cramped, but Kei supposes it’s preferable to being squished into the bathtub. Yamaguchi peers up at him in curiosity, and so Kunimi holds his phone so that the screen faces Yamaguchi. He and Kei lean over to look at a picture of some girl that Kei has never seen before. She’s in a crop top and short shorts that leave little to the imagination. Kei feels a breath on his right shoulder; he glances over to see Suna’s narrow eyes squinting at Kunimi’s phone as well.
“Who is that?” Yamaguchi asks.
“A girl from my maths class last semester,” Kunimi says. “I don’t think she knows my name, but I follow her on Instagram and like, fuck. She gives me heart palpitations.” Kei rolls his eyes gently and, without meaning to, scrunches up his nose. Kunimi notices this. “What, Tsukishima, you don’t think she’s hot?”
“She’s not my type,” Kei shrugs, bumping shoulders with Suna as he does so.
“No one’s your type,” Kunimi says, rolling his eyes this time. Yamaguchi passes him the water bottle.
“That’s not true.”
“He’s got a point,” says Suna, who is leaning with his head against the wall behind the tub. His eyes are closed; he always looks so content when he’s high, which is often. “You never talk about girls.”
Next to him, Yamaguchi hums quietly in agreement. Kei is irritated but refuses to let them know that.
“Black shoulder length hair, with bangs,” he says after a beat. “I don’t know her name yet, but she’s here and she’s hot.”
“That describes like, half the girls here,” Kunimi says, the smoke he just blew out billowing in the air above him.
“No, I know who he’s talking about,” Suna says. “She’s cute.” Kei gives Kunimi a glance as if to say I told you so, but Suna continues. “I don’t think you have a chance.”
“I absolutely do!” Kei argues, his voice a bit more indignant than he’d like.
“Right, right,” Suna opens his eyes and gives Kei’s knee two brisk, condescending pats. He reaches behind himself and pulls a small baggie out of his back pocket. “Can someone take this off my hands? If I bring this home, Atsumu is going to find it and smoke it all before I can.”
“You want someone to hold onto your illegal drugs for you, but not actually use them?” Kunimi asks. “Fucking great offer. Count me out.”
“Same,” Yamaguchi says quickly. Kei shoots him a look.
“Winner winner,” says Suna, who holds the baggie high above Kei before letting it drop into his lap.
Kei frowns as he picks up the wrinkled baggie. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Keep it in a safe place until I want it back,” Suna says, like it’s nothing. At Kei’s peeved look, he says, “what? Your roommates are chill. They don’t strike me as the type to invade your room.”
“How can you possibly say the word ‘chill’ about Oikawa?” Kei asks, and the question is only half-rhetorical. Yamaguchi snickers.
“I tried to warn you,” Kunimi says.
“Well, my options were to live with Oikawa and the recluse, or find an overpriced closet to live in,” Kei says. “Sometimes I think the closet would be preferable.”
“‘Oikawa and the Recluse’ sounds like a band name,” Suna says.
“Or a creepy children’s story,” adds Yamaguchi.
At that moment, the door to the bathroom opens. All four of them tense up in fear that it could be Yachi, who is explicitly not a fan of weed and would certainly not want the four of them using it in her bathroom. Thankfully, it’s just some brunette they don’t know.
“Close the door,” Kunimi urges. The girl looks at them, dazed, before obliging. “I need to pee,” she says. Kunimi frowns, but hops off of the toilet and gestures to it before shuffling away. Without hesitation, the girl stumbles over to the toilet, puts her hand under her dress and yanks her thong down to her knees before letting herself slink onto the toilet. She seems entirely undisturbed by the presence of the four young men pointedly looking anywhere but in her direction as the sound of her urinating reverbs in the toilet bowl.
Kunimi awkwardly resumes his position on the toilet tank when the girl is done. As she washes her hands, the door opens yet again. Thankfully, it’s not Yachi or any of her immediate friends. Kei’s heart speeds up when he realizes it’s the girl he described earlier.
“Hey, I didn’t know where you went,” she says to the brunette. She glances over at the tub. “Oh.”
“Hi,” Yamaguchi says awkwardly.
The girl gives a faux smile and turns to her friend. They begin talking about something and Kei feels a pointy finger jab at his shoulder. He looks up at Kunimi, who’s wearing a shit-eating grin on his face. At his other side, Suna murmurs, “go get your girl.”
It’s a challenge, and Kei isn’t sure that he’s going to make it out of this mess without eating a whole lot of proverbial shit, but he’s feeling good from the weed and he’s received enough confessions in his life to feel like he’s got to be at least somewhat attractive by conventional standards.
“I’m honestly kind of bored,” the black-haired girl is saying to her friend. “Maybe we should just go.”
“Quitter,” Kei says. The girl’s head snaps in his direction. He raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re going to leave the first party of the year early just because you’re ‘bored’?”
The girl’s expression morphs into confusion and then annoyance. “There’s nothing to do. No one’s doing anything interesting, except for you guys from the smell of it.”
“That’s all you want?” Kei cocks his head to the side. Fucking bingo. He could kiss Suna’s stoned little face. His hand sinks into his hoodie pocket and holds the baggie up so the girl can see it.
“Dude!” Suna chokes out upon seeing his weed already being exploited. Kei ignores him; it’s not like Suna can’t find more weed, and Kei is happy to reimburse him if it means he’s victorious tonight.
Kei hoists himself out of the bathtub as steadily and gracefully as he can given how high he is and his awkward positioning. He grabs the water bottle from the rim of the tub with his free hand and approaches the girl, who is looking up at him with guarded interest. Next to her, her friend looks like she may fall asleep standing up.
“Do you require payment?” the girl deadpans, eyeing the supplies in Kei’s hands.
“Your name,” Kei smirks.
The corners of the girl’s lips curve upward ever so slightly. “Sakata,” she says. Kei eyes her expectantly. “Sakata Asuka.”
Kei prepares the water bottle and fishes a lighter out of his pocket. When he lights it, Sakata lifts her arm, clearly expecting him to pass it to her. Instead, he brings it to his mouth and takes a deep hit. He hopes that his plan works out, because he’s honestly too high already for what he’s just done. Behind him, he hears snickers from his friends.
Sakata’s eyes narrow in irritation, but they quickly widen as he leans down and reaches his hand out toward her chin. She responds by letting her jaw fall, and Kei brings his lips just centimeters apart from hers as he blows the smoke into her mouth. When she exhales, he leans down and presses his lips to hers. Sakata responds immediately, pressing back into the kiss and linking her arms behind Kei’s neck. Determined to make a show of it, Kei licks against her lips and she lets him into her mouth. They kiss sloppily and behind him, Kunimi audibly groans in annoyance.
When they break apart, Sakata looks sheepishly in her friend’s direction while Kei readjusts his glasses, which have fogged up slightly. The brunette mutters something and exits the bathroom. When she turns back to him, he can see that her lipstick is smeared slightly and her cheeks are red from more than just makeup.
“Thanks,” she says, bringing a hand through her hair.
“For which part?” Kei grins.
Sakata shrugs in a way that says she’s grateful for both of Kei’s ‘favors.’ “What’s your name?”
“Give me your phone and you’ll have a contact record with all the information you need.” Another groan from Kunimi. Kei’s chest swells with pride as Sakata pulls her phone from her back pocket and unlocks it before handing it to Kei. He creates a record with only his family name and hands it back to her.
“No fair,” she says when she sees it. “I told you my first name.”
“Guess we’ll have to see each other again so you can get mine,” says Kei. He honestly doesn’t know where this hyper-confident flirty side of him came from, but his heart is hammering away at his ribcage and he swears he has enough adrenaline to lift up a car.
Sakata smiles at him before tapping away at her screen. Kei feels his phone buzz in his pocket. “Text me, Tsukishima,” she says. Then she saunters out of the bathroom.
When the door shuts behind her, Kei lifts up both hands and gives his friends the most satisfying middle fingers of his life.
SUNDAY, 13:16
Kei finds that he is not particularly interested in texting Sakata. She is attractive, and though they barely interacted aside from swapping spit and smoke, he feels like he can sense a good vibe from her. But when he thinks about sending her a message, it feels like more of a chore than an opportunity to continue whatever they began the night prior. Truly, the only reason he had described her when pressed by his friends was because she was the first female party goer that popped into his head at the moment. That he ended up making out with her only a few minutes later was by complete coincidence.
Despite this, he fights his apathy and does text her, mainly because he wants to continue to rub it in to his shithead friends for as long as he possibly can. She responds fairly quickly, and they end up having a conversation in which Kei learns that she is a first-year who was only at the party because the friend she was with, Yajima, has an older sister who is friends with one of Yachi’s roommates.
[13:16] Kei: So was that your first real college party then?
[13:17] Sakata: yeah, I guess it was
[13:17] Kei: I hope didn’t end up being as boring as you thought when you first came into the bathroom
[13:18] Sakata: it got pretty interesting right after I said that, actually
[13:18] Sakata: :)
They swap a few more messages back and forth until Sakata has to help her roommates with something. When Kei puts his phone down, he realizes he’s hungry and remembers he has leftover takeout in the fridge. That is, until he checks the fridge and doesn’t see the container anywhere.
The door to Oikawa’s room opens and a man that he has never seen exits. He is fully clothed, thankfully, and greets Kei by simply raising his eyebrows and tilting his head back slightly. Oikawa appears behind him after a moment, wearing only pajama pants. An array of hickeys covers his torso rather than a shirt.
Kei returns to searching the fridge for his food as Oikawa bids his guest goodbye. When he can’t find it, he closes the door with a huff and turns to his roommate. “Did you eat my leftovers?”
“Good morning to you too, Tsukki-chan,” says Oikawa.
“It’s the afternoon.” At this, Oikawa only shrugs. “Well, did you?”
“I didn’t eat it,” Oikawa says. For a moment Kei is led to believe that his timid other roommate is the thief, when Oikawa continues. “But I did offer it to Masami-chan. He was hungry after all the exercise we -”
“Oikawa, what the fuck?” Kei says, partially because he’s (rightfully) irritated and partially because he has no interest in hearing about Oikawa’s sex adventures.
“I’m sorry!” Oikawa whines. “I will buy you a replacement meal, would you like that?”
“I think that’s only fair.”
“Okay,” Oikawa smiles, then looks pensive. “I just need until Friday, so I can get paid.”
Kei groans and purposefully bumps into Oikawa’s shoulder on his way back to his room, where flops onto his bed belly-first.
TUESDAY, 10:15
It’s the first day of classes and Kei is already tired. He hadn’t made as much of an effort to fix his sleep schedule as he ought to have prior to school starting up again, so he couldn’t fall asleep until well after midnight. When his alarm goes off at 08:00, he fights the urge to chuck his phone across the room.
He does his best to stay alert during his first class of the day, but there’s only so much attention he can dedicate to going over the syllabus. He grabs a coffee before his second class and nearly drops it when he enters the lecture hall and sees Sakata sitting in the center of one of the rows of seats. She turns her head and sees him almost instantly, much to his chagrin. He has no option other than to sit near her now. He makes the quick decision to take his seat in the row behind her so that he at least puts some distance between them.
“When you said you were studying biology I never thought we’d have a class together,” laughs Sakata after they exchange polite greetings. She twists in her seat to face him, her arms draped along the back of her chair.
“Yeah, I need an Arts credit and a theater studies class seemed as good as any, so…”
“Are you into theater much?”
“Not at all,” Kei says, and they both chuckle. He takes a sip of his coffee to give himself a moment to remember what she said her major was when they had texted the other day. Thankfully, it comes to him. “I guess this is probably a relevant class for the Modern Lit track though, right?”
Sakata nods and tells him about the other classes she’s taking until the professor begins class. Kei is anxious for the entire 50 minute duration, in part because Sakata is there but also because the professor, who speaks in a thick Russian accent, has made it clear that just because this is an elective for many of the students does not mean it will be easy. Just before dismissing class, she mentions that she also oversees the Drama Club and that anyone who attends its first meeting - tonight at 19:00 - will receive 10 points toward their first test.
He walks out of the lecture hall with Sakata because he has no good reason not to. “Do you think you’ll go tonight?”
Kei shrugs. He had written off the idea almost immediately, as there was little that he considered less appealing than attending a Drama Club meeting.
“I think I will,” Sakata says as they navigate through the hallway. “I’ve heard this class is really hard. That ten points could be major.”
When they turn a corner, they see Kunimi and Yamaguchi standing by the vending machines. They both widen their eyes when they see Kei and Sakata approaching them together. Kei takes the opportunity to smirk at them.
“Hey, from the party the other night, right?” Sakata gestures at them.
“Yes!” Yamaguchi nods, his voice about three octaves too high to sound normal. He holds out his hand. “Yamaguchi.”
“Kunimi,” the other says, not bothering with a handshake.
“Nice to meet you guys for real, then,” Sakata says, then turns her attention back to Kei. “Well, I have to get to my next class.”
Before he can stop himself, Kei says, “see you tonight, Sakata-chan?”
She nods excitedly before walking away. The look on Kunimi’s face is worth the commitment Kei has just made.
19:14
Drama Club is a mistake. Aside from Sakata and a few faces he recognizes from the lecture hall, everyone there seems like a tried and true theater nerd with a personality to match. Kei has nothing against theater types, but he’s thoroughly uncomfortable around loud people who break out into song at random intervals, and he doesn’t understand any of the obscure musical references that several of the club members continually make.
If Sakata is uncomfortable in her seat next to him, she doesn’t show it. Kei can’t get a read on whether or not she’s excited for the “performance warm-up slash improv” activity that they’ll be doing in a few minutes, but he knows damn well there is no way he can bring himself to participate. As everyone stands up to get ready for said activity, Kei mutters to Sakata that he’s going to the bathroom and slinks out of the auditorium as inconspicuously as he can.
He doesn’t actually have to use the bathroom but goes there anyway, and washes his hands for lack of anything better to do. He considers whether or not he should just leave. He’s already put his name on the attendee list, so his ten points toward his test should be safe. But what if his professor somehow knows he left, or Sakata or another of his classmates says something?
He’s distracted from his thoughts when he exits the bathroom and sees another student leaning with his back against the wall, one leg bent so that his foot is also pressed to the tiles behind him. His head is mostly obscured by the hood of his sweatshirt and his face is tilted down as he taps away at his phone, but there’s a hint of unruly black hair that sends a shiver of familiarity up Kei’s spine. He can’t place it until the other occupant of the hallway looks up, directly at him.
Kei stops in his tracks maybe ten feet away. This person whom Kei previously had assumed was just another anonymous student on a campus of thousands is no stranger at all. What the fuck, Kei thinks, a barrage of questions racing in his mind. Can it really be him? He goes to school here? How have I not seen him until now?
His face has lost any last remnants of baby fat and he’s not in a volleyball uniform, but there’s no mistaking that hair or the lopsided grin that spreads over his face when he sees Kei.
“Kuroo,” Kei says, his voice quieter than he expected. He coughs and tries again. “Kuroo-san?”
“Tsukishima Kei, as I live and breathe!” Kuroo Tetsurou exclaims. He pockets his phone and approaches Kei, and before he can do anything Kuroo is pulling him into a friendly hug. Mystified and thoroughly not expecting this, Kei just stands there with his hands raised slightly to hover over Kuroo’s lower back. When they separate, Kei feels Kuroo’s eyes giving him a onceover. “What are - are you - actually, were you at the drama club meeting?”
“Uh, yes, for theater class.”
“I was on my way there for the same reason, but ended up running behind. I took one peek in there and decided I’d just study a little harder for the first test.”
“Yeah, I escaped,” Kei says. “You’re in theater studies, too?”
“The afternoon class, yeah. Need an arts credit.”
“Ah, I’m in the morning class. For the same reason.”
“You gonna go back in there?” Kuroo asks, his eyebrows raised.
Kei considers his options. Going back to drama club sounds dreadful, but staying out here means making awkward small talk of the “what have you been up to” variety with Kuroo, who - judging by how he greeted Kei - thinks they are closer than they ever truly were. Before he can respond, though, Kuroo’s expression turns devious.
“I know that if I were going to face a bunch of drama club people, I’d need some assistance,” he says, reaching into his pocket. His hand reappears brandishing an expertly rolled joint. “Do you think you’d need some assistance, too?”
Outside the Arts building, they sit underneath a stairwell leading up to a walking bridge and pass the joint back and forth. Kei feels a bit sheepish smoking directly on campus like this, but Kuroo insists that he’s smoked at this exact spot before multiple times and has never had an issue.
“So you must be in your last year now then, huh?” Kei asks after taking a hit. He hands over the joint, brushing against Kuroo’s calloused fingers lightly as he does.
“Nah, third,” Kuroo says. “I ended up taking a year off last year.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Kuroo doesn’t elaborate, so Kei decides not to press further. If Kuroo wanted to say the reason, he would have. In any case, it explains why Kei never saw Kuroo on campus until now.
“What do you study?” Kei asks instead. He’s not the type to make small talk, but he finds that he’s genuinely curious.
“Sports marketing,” Kuroo answers, his voice heavy with smoke. “I want to become the sleazy guy in suits who attends all the volleyball matches and forces everyone to take his business card.”
“That’s utterly perfect for you.”
“Thank you,” Kuroo laughs, and Kei takes note of the way small creases form around his eyes as he does. It occurs to Kei that he rarely, if ever, saw a genuine chuckle from Kuroo back in their high school days. He was much more accustomed to Kuroo’s purposefully aggravating snickers, which were somehow charming in their own way. Still, he thinks he prefers this softer version of Kuroo. “What about you, Tsukki?”
“Microbiology.”
“You didn’t tell me not to call you Tsukki,” Kuroo grins.
Kei rolls his eyes playfully. “I’ve gotten over that, I guess. I’ve had to.”
“How much you’ve grown,” Kuroo says. He wipes a fake tear from his eye. “From baby crow to...well, adult crow, I guess.”
They both laugh and pass the joint between them as they continue reminiscing about their shared year of volleyball and how Karasuno and Nekoma fared in the years following. They discuss the last time they saw each other in person, which had been at Nationals in Kei’s second year of high school. Karasuno didn’t face off against Nekoma in that tournament, but Kuroo had come to see Kenma and his fellow former teammates play, and made sure to say hi to the Crows when he had the chance.
“So how’s your friend with the killer serve?” Kuroo asks at one point. “Freckles.”
“Yamaguchi,” Kei corrects. “He actually goes here too, so I still see him basically every day.”
“That’s awesome,” Kuroo says. “Do any of the other guys from Karasuno go here?”
“No, but there are some guys from other teams that we hang out with,” Kei says. “Actually, you remember Inarizaki? The twins?”
“No way, they don’t go here, do they?”
“No, but one lives around here and is roommates with that fox-looking middle blocker of theirs, Suna.”
“Oh, the one with the bendy torso!” Kuroo wiggles his own upper body in an attempt to replicate Suna’s spiking form.
“Yeah,” Kei nods. “I hated him whenever we faced them, but turns out he’s not such a bad guy.”
“‘Turns out he’s not such a bad guy’ is probably, like, the catchphrase of your life,” Kuroo teases, and Kei giggles, actually giggles, which he would be more embarrassed about if he weren’t high. “I’d bet at least ten hundred yen you had that thought about me at some point.”
“Wow, a whole ten hundred yen,” Kei deadpans.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“You didn’t ask one.”
Kuroo arches his brow and tilts his head to the side. “You’re so...Tsukki, Tsukki.”
Kei looks at the ground as he laughs. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
When he raises his eyes, Kuroo is looking directly at him, his green-gray eyes trained on Kei. “It was one,” Kuroo says, his voice low in both volume and pitch. Kei feels his Adam's apple bob in his throat and stares back at the concrete beneath him, unsure of how else to react.
The moment passes and Kuroo smushes the spent joint against the ground. “Well, I think drama club is probably over at this point. Sorry about your ten points.”
“I put my name down on the sign-in sheet, so I’m hoping I still managed to secure them.”
“Smart,” Kuroo says. “Well, I should probably get home, but it was really -” he pauses and Kei glances up at him. Their eyes lock on one another’s again. Kuroo swallows before going on. “It was really nice to catch up, Tsukki.”
“Yeah,” Kei says as they both push themselves off the ground and stand up. “I’ll guess we’ll probably see each other around on campus, yeah?”
Kuroo nods, and they bid each other goodnight before going in their separate directions. As Kei walks to the bus stop, he wonders if he should have asked for Kuroo’s number. No, that would have been weird, he reasons. It would have made it seem like I’m eager to keep talking to him.
He keeps walking and thinking about it.
Which I’m not.
Another step.
Obviously.
At the realization, he comes to a stop.
Shit.