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“When you hold your breath, you can concentrate on the ball better.”
Tsukishima is doubtful, but Kageyama has been averting his eyes lately whenever he tried to say something from the heart, so this must be the case now too. He must be honest, and there is something quite vulnerable about honesty.
They are sitting in the corner of the gym, the furthest possible point from everybody else, where they sit whenever they have heart-to-heart conversations; it starts with one of them slowly inching away from the rest of the team, from unfamiliar faces that cannot spare them even a side eye because of how fixated they are on catching up.
Second-year confidence feels good on Kageyama , Tsukishima thinks one day.
It starts with one of them moving away, and the other is quick to notice and follow. Then they sit down, not too close, for fear of seeming too friendly, but not too far, in order to still feel the warmth of the other’s body.
Then they sigh, one after another, or together, in unison.
One time, back in May, Kageyama sighed for the entirety of their break. They did not talk then, yet, just sat next to each other, finding comfort in the silence, while the mutual hate and distrust gradually thawed away.
Things were still awkward in May. And June. Tsukishima would argue that they are still awkward now, but he doesn’t, because they are probably not awkward to Kageyama. He has calmed down over time, and he almost accepts Tsukishima as a being with whom he can while away the time comfortably, or at least, not uncomfortably. Tsukishima isn’t so sure, but even he’s not dumb enough to think that nothing’s changed.
Oh, things have changed.
There is something to be said about friendships, Tsukishima thinks, if this can even be called that. His friendship with Yamaguchi is simple. Long rants about school work, teachers, the new kids on their team, walks home, homework. The one with Kageyama is… different. They hardly talk - well, it's not like they don't talk at all, and there are also the rants, though rarely as trivial (and lively) as the ones with Yamaguchi, and, okay, they might not be doing homework together or walking home together, and okay , they only really started talking like two months ago, but there it is. The warmth. The comfort. The somewhat out-of-place familiarity.
He can probably recognize Kageyama's breathing pattern among twenty other people now.
He notices at that point that his thoughts have drifted too far, because he hears Kageyama repeat the sentence. It is more inquisitive this time, breathier, quieter.
“When you hold your breath, you can concentrate better.”
"That doesn't make any sense," Tsukishima finally says, despite Kageyama's obvious (to him) sincerity. He knows somewhere that Kageyama is probably right, but he's not too keen on giving in just yet. The break has just started, after all.
"You move when you breathe. And it messes with your serves, you know?"
Tsukishima knows, but he is also spiteful, and messing with Kageyama is his cocaine. Of sorts.
"As if. I can always hear you breathe when it's your turn to serve."
Kageyama turns his head at Tsukishima, eyebrows slightly furrowed, bottom lip raised like it is whenever he is confused. Tsukishima is too caught up in the subtle movements of his facial features to immediately realize that he's just embarrassed himself, because who pays attention to the way their teammate breathes, let alone when they are about to serve.
It doesn't seem to have dawned on Kageyama though, and he mumbles, "No, I don't?"
He is embarrassed though, enough to console Tsukishima’s own ego.
How nice, he thinks.
///
During one of their practice games, they are both benched - Tsukishima due to a wrist injury, and Kageyama due to Hinata’s offhanded “ Let Hashimoto be the main setter for once, Boring-yama, you play in every game” , so he does. He finds Hinata incredibly annoying for this because he seems to be immune to the seniority thing, and nobody tells him to sit out the game, but, whatever, because Tsukishima is also sitting out, and and, and Tsukishima is probably also feeling bitter - about not participating of course - so there is at least the camaraderie and the fact that they can bond over being left out.
But then a ball comes flying at them, and he doesn’t react because his eyes are busy following the bugs flying outside. So Tsukishima does, and, well, props to his reflexes because instead of doing it normally he blocks it with his injured hand. So everybody goes into a frenzy, but Tsukishima’s scornful expression keeps them away. Instead, Kageyama is tasked with taking him to the nurse’s office for some ice. Tsukishima tries to get out of it, I can go alone, it’s nothing, don’t touch me, but Kageyama nods and grabs him by the elbow.
“I’m fine,” Tsukishima says when they’re out, and only then does Kageyama realize he is still holding him. He lets go.
The nurse is not present, they conclude, but Kageyama pushes Tsukishima into the office regardless.
“Sit down,” he says. “I’m gonna look for ice.”
Against Kageyama’s expectations and Tsukishima’s better judgment, Tsukishima does exactly that. He sits on the edge of the nearest bed, holding up his injured wrist with his left hand.
He hears Kageyama rummaging through the cabinets, and he sighs, because he’s never going to find ice there. Idiot. It’s thirty-five degrees outside. It would melt .
Then he lets his upper body drop. He is tired.
It isn’t until ten minutes later that Kageyama actually does find the ice, but Tsukishima has already dozed off by then. Kageyama stands there for a minute, indecisive, with ice in one hand and gauze in the other. It’s going to melt , he thinks. It’s like thirty-something degrees outside . He looks down at Tsukishima. Realistically, it wouldn’t be wrong of him to wake him up, right? He’s probably not even asleep, just pretending, so we don’t have to go back ?
He nudges Tsukishima’s foot with his own, which elicits a sigh from the boy, but nothing else.
“Hey.” Nothing.
He sits next to Tsukishima, the bed dipping under his weight.
“Wake up,” he says, quieter than before. He finds his face growing hot before long, and of course, since it’s already so hot in the room, and it’s even hotter next to Tsukishima - he can’t move.
Drops of water start dripping down his forearm; the ice has started to melt. He looks at it, then at Tsukishima, then at the ice again, then at Tsukishima’s hand. He takes it tentatively, slowly unwrapping the straps, and then the velcro makes an unpleasant noise (it doesn’t like being tampered with, even more so by a stranger), but Tsukishima stays still, doesn’t even twitch or quiver. Once the brace is off, Kageyama takes the small bag of ice and presses it against the protruding spot on Tsukishima’s wrist. He takes the gauze and wraps it around so the ice stays in place, because He can’t be holding Tsukishima’s hand, that’s just embarrassing. Ugh. The gauze is on, but his hand… it… does not leave. Absent-mindedly (because he can’t really be said to be clear-headed after doing this, right?) he starts dragging his nails lightly over Tsukishima’s arm. He thinks: this feels good. Not doing it, but having it be done to someone. His sister did that a lot when he was younger. It helped calm him down.
Apparently, Tsukishima can take the ‘Hey’ s, the velcro and the ice, but this impromptu tenderness is what wakes him up. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches as the goosebumps rise on his skin as Kageyama’s fingers caress it. He feels… weird.
Yeah. ‘Weird ’ just about explains it.
He can acknowledge that it is his arm that is being touched, but the sensation is not concentrated there. The heat must be messing with his head, because he can feel the tingling behind his ears, in the back of his neck, his lower back, and ends of his fingers.
“Ah!”
Kageyama’s looking at him now, and his hand is now awkwardly hanging above Tsukishima’s forearm. He is slightly wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, cheeks slightly red.
“When did you wake up?”
Tsukishima decides to save him from the embarrassment and says, “Just now.” In reality, it’s probably been a minute.
He doesn’t ask about what Kageyama has been doing, and Kageyama doesn’t say anything to justify his actions.
They sit in complete silence, looking at each other. The heat is unbearable. Water drips down Tsukishima’s hand, wetting the duvet underneath. It’s cold. His hand is cold. The room is hot. His face is hot, too, now. Kageyama looks hot. His hand is hot. His-
“Mhm!”
Tsukishima protests at first, but then he thinks: This is fine.
His heart is beating like crazy, he can feel it all the way up in his throat; his palms are getting clammy - the wetness of the ice doesn’t help. But Kageyama’s hand is hot, and it takes away the bad, icky feeling. His lips are hot, too, but that doesn’t make his own lips burn more; if anything, they feel like a topical anesthetic - numbing, kind of cold, and he is left tingling, like he’s just been electroshocked.
He cups Kageyama’s face.
///
There is something vulnerable about honesty, so Kageyama is dishonest.
He is a terrible liar, Tsukishima notes, but doesn’t say, as that would mean he cares, that he is honest, and therefore, that he is vulnerable.
No one likes to be like that.
So, to Kageyama’s “I’m sorry, can you forget about this?” he responds with a cruelly snide “Gladly.”
Kageyama isn’t cruel, Tsukishima knows, and doesn’t deserve this. But no one likes to be hurt, and this? This hurts.
Tsukishima is spiteful.
He is spiteful, so the next time he serves, he breathes in deep. Deep enough for his lungs to hurt, and deep enough for him to stop thinking.