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Today, during Physics, Tsukishima notices a scar he’s never seen before. It’s bunched up with the folds of his knuckle on his right index finger, so as he stretches it around his pencil he can see the faint line of tissue ridged pale against his skin.
He does okay on the quiz.
Later he lies down on his bed after practice and looks up at the plastic stars on the stucco. Everything in his room is still intact from his childhood. It’s not who he is anymore, but who he is lately doesn’t care whether there are plastic stars or dinosaurs or volleyball posters on the walls. He wonders when this teenage listlessness settled into him, whether it’s something he’ll ever see the other side of, or if it’s just the kind of person he turned out to be.
He considers his older brother. If Akiteru ever had a moody phase, Kei can’t remember it.
***
Nishinoya shows up the next morning with a huge grin and a bloody paper towel wrapped around his leg. Hinata and Tanaka are impressed; Asahi pales, fleeing to the nurse’s office to grab some Band-Aids and disinfectant.
“It’s definitely going to leave a scar,” Nishinoya brags.
Hinata glows with admiration. “You’re so brave, Noya-san!”
Kei tilts a little toward Yamaguchi, voice low. “If by ‘brave’ you mean ‘reckless’ and ‘asinine’.” Yamaguchi’s hand flies to his mouth to stifle a giggle, not quite in time.
Noya faces them, and Yamaguchi yelps in surprise. “You wanna repeat that a little louder?”
Kei blinks. “I’ll pass.”
“You think I’m scared-a you, Tsukishima?” Noya jokes, dodging imagined fists.
Well, I’m the only first year you don’t call by given name, he thinks, so it’s a distinct possibility. He doesn’t say this, though, just stares at him, eyes flat. Noya sticks out his tongue and returns to his animated conversation with the others.
“I’m Nishinoya Yuu and this is Jackass,” Kei mutters to Yamaguchi, again, when Noya stands precariously on the volleyball cart. Yamaguchi nudges him back, making a face like isn’t this kind of fun? Kei shrugs.
That morning, everyone shares their scar stories. No one bothers to ask Kei—they assume, accurately, that he would pass. But as Hinata reenacts how he fell from a tree the summer before, he recalls the scar on his knuckle, and looks down to make sure it’s still there.
“What is it, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks. “You look like you want to say something.”
Kei drops his hand.
“Not really.”
***
Tsukishima is sure of this: it’s easier to be disliked than it is to be liked.
It’s a matter of lowering expectations. People don’t forget the mean things you say like they do the nice ones, and when he does manage to be kind, it goes a long way.
Sometimes he doesn’t even mean to be giving off bad vibes. Not in particular. It’s something he will only admit to himself years later, but he’s awkward. And uncomfortable. And he doesn’t know what kind of socialization could have possibly prepared him for people like Nishinoya or Hinata. Even Sugawara is disarmingly friendly toward him—why, he always wants to ask. Why won’t his teammates let him keep them at an arm’s length?
Your arms are so long though, Tsukki, he can hear Yamaguchi say inside his head.
Sometimes there are two Yamaguchis like that—the actual Yamaguchi, who always agrees with him, who gives him credit for things he didn’t earn, like his height. Then there’s the one in his brain, the one he feels watching him freeze up in social situations, who knows the full extent of his neuroses. He’s never seen him in real life, and the larger, more logical part of himself knows not to worry about things that are only imagined. Still, he wonders a little—how transparent is he to his only friend?
He’s not sure what would be worse—that Yamaguchi can’t see him, or that he can, and he sticks around anyway.
“Are you hungry, Tsukki? Do you want to get food?”
Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi is next to him, walking home with him, and he is talking. Kei pauses, shoulders tense. He’s annoyed he spaced out so obviously.
“A little,” he says, after a moment.
Yamaguchi smiles and springs ahead, racing himself to the bottom of the hill. Kei trails behind. It bothers him how he can forget things just because they’re always there, like a person forgets the color of the walls. Forgets the stars attached to them.
***
He’s surprised when the freak duo start dating. He could tell as much as anyone that something was up with them lately—their glaring contests getting longer, the intensity in their voices reaching fever pitch. He has to admit, though, he didn’t expect to walk in on them making out in the supply closet after practice.
“Wow,” he says, and they leap away from each other. “Repulsive. I’m glad I skipped lunch.”
“Tsukishima! Yamaguchi!” Hinata squeaks. “It’s not what it looks like!”
Kageyama cuffs him on the side of his head. “Dumbass! ‘It’s not what it looks like?’ What do you expect them to believe, we ran into each other’s mouths?”
“Sh-shut up!” Hinata says, face on fire. His voice drops low, as if it’s possible to have a private conversation with one other person in a room that’s four by eight. “I was just trying to protect you. ”
“Dumbass,” Kageyama repeats, but the affection in his voice makes Kei want to hurl a volleyball between them. “I already told you, I don’t need protecting.”
“And scene,” Kei says, putting up his hands. “I think we’ve seen enough for today, haven’t we, Yamaguchi?”
“Um,” Yamaguchi says.
Kei smiles at them. “We’ll assume you two don’t want any unsavory rumors flying around, so you can finish clean-up by yourselves. Let’s go, Yamaguchi.”
“Right,” Yamaguchi says.
They’re silent for the first mile home. The cloudy sky turns to mercury as the sun skims the horizon, and he counts passing cars as their headlights creep up from behind. The leaves shiver on the trees; soon they’ll need hats and gloves for road work during practice. Kei finds himself huffing in exasperation every few minutes. The quiet between them isn’t unusual, but considering what they just walked in on, Kei is surprised Yamaguchi isn’t rambling the way he always does when he’s uncomfortable or amused.
Eventually, Kei pipes up first. “It was bad enough we had to share a training camp bathroom with them before they started swapping spit,” he complains. “Now we have to watch them shower together?”
“Suga-san will probably make one of them switch times,” Yamaguchi points out.
“He better make them separate their futons, too.”
“…Yeah.”
“Then again, I don’t wanna be the one between them—”
“Hey Tsukki,” Yamaguchi interrupts, voice rising. “Do you still wanna see that spy movie this weekend?”
Kei stares at him. Why is he changing the subject? “Don’t you think you’re being too Zen about this?” he asks.
“I’m not,” the other boy protests. “Anyway, the movie, Tsukki—”
Kei pushes. “Two idiot guys kissing in a musty closet was the last thing I needed to see.”
“They can’t help it,” Yamaguchi snaps.
Kei stops walking. His eyes widen, and his cheeks sting red, like he’s been slapped in the face.
Yamaguchi is not done. He stands with his fists clenched, glaring at the asphalt. “It’s really shitty to make fun of someone for something they can’t help.”
Kei gets the feeling if he doesn’t choose his next words carefully, he might break something he doesn’t know how to fix. “Well,” he says slowly, “gay or not, two people that stupid and sweaty shouldn’t be allowed within six feet of each other.”
“Hinata’s bi,” Yamaguchi grumbles.
“Is that supposed to be a retort?”
Yamaguchi looks up. He releases the air from his lungs.
“Sorry, Tsukki,” he says. They keep walking. After a moment, he recovers his smile.
***
Things don’t really go back to normal, though. The team dynamic is different now that the freak duo oscillate between lust and hatred ten times a day. Daichi is beside himself trying to keep practice under control. And Yamaguchi flinches every time he catches Kei looking in his direction.
Yamaguchi explains that Hinata had come to him with his feelings a few weeks before, looking for advice. It comes out harsher than he means it, but Tsukishima asks what advice Hinata could have possibly thought he would get from Yamaguchi, of all people. His friend just shrugs.
Kei sighs. “Well, you’re not hard to talk to, so it kind of makes sense, I guess.”
Yamaguchi’s smile at this is the most normal he’s seemed in days.
Still, Kei is annoyed. Yamaguchi stops answering his texts after practice, and when Tsukki brings it up, he says he’s just been really tired lately. This doesn’t seem like a lie—Yamaguchi does look a little worse for wear, bags under his eyes, hair sticking up in more directions than usual—but it also doesn’t feel like an explanation.
He shouldn’t, after their fight a couple weeks ago. But he finds himself pushing Yamaguchi, testing the waters, trying to figure out if him getting pissed was a fluke or if he can make it happen again. So far it seems like the former.
“Do you think Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei have noticed, yet?” he asks one afternoon, on their way home. “Although Hinata and Kageyama are the two least tactful people on the planet, so there’s no way they haven’t.” He pauses, steeling himself for another argument. “What do you think?”
“Tsukki,” is all he says, and weakly, too. He stops walking.
“Seriously, Yamaguchi?” Kei snaps; it’s not the response he wanted. “I thought you were done acting weird.”
“No, Tsukki,” he says. “I don’t feel so well.” He takes a step forward, and then he’s on the ground.
Kei kneels next to him. “Yamaguchi, what’s wrong?” he asks. Yamaguchi’s eyes are unfocused, his breath coming hard and shallow. Kei puts a hand on his forehead, pushing his bangs out of the way. The skin scorches his palm.
“We can’t walk home like this,” he says. He keeps his voice loud; he’s not sure Yamaguchi can hear him either way. “I’m calling the hospital.”
Yamaguchi’s breath hitches, but he nods. “Thank you, Tsukki,” he mumbles. They ride in the back of the ambulance together. Yamaguchi insists on sitting up the whole way, even though Kei knows he’s still woozy. He seems embarrassed.
The next morning, at practice, Kei shows up alone.
“Where’s Tadashi?” asks Noya.
“He has mononucleosis,” Kei says.
“Mono?” Suga asks, looking up from his clipboard. “The kissing disease?”
“Suga,” Daichi hisses, but the rest of the volleyball team is already ooooh-ing.
“Way to go, Yamaguchi!” Tanaka raises his hand to high-five him, as if he’s Yamaguchi’s proxy.
Kei frowns. “He’s in the hospital,” he clarifies.
The team is upset by this, of course, and they make a plan to end afternoon practice early, so they can visit Yamaguchi. Kei declines to join them. He’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to visit with an entire sports team, anyway.
***
But he doesn’t go to the hospital. Not the next day, or the day after that. Yamaguchi doesn’t text him, so he doesn’t text back. It’s not like it makes a difference. He’s probably not even allowed to have his cell phone in there.
When he gets home, Akiteru answers the door.
“What are you doing here?”
“Glad to see you, too.” His brother is shorter than he is, but he’s seven years stronger. Kei isn’t quite able to wrestle away from the hug with his dignity intact.
“Where’s Yamaguchi?” he asks as Kei rifles through the pantry for a snack. “Doesn’t he usually come over on Fridays?”
“He’s sick,” Kei says. Worry creeps into Akiteru’s expression. “Mono,” he clarifies.
“Mono?” Akiteru asks. “Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Of course not,” Kei says, too quickly.
“Jeez, okay. Touchy.” Akiteru puts his hands on his hips, leaning toward his brother. He sniffs. “What, did you guys fight over someone? A girl in your year, maybe?”
“Wrong,” Kei says.
Akiteru sighs. “Of course. You two never fight.”
There’s a sudden tightening in his chest; Kei tries and fails to unwind it. He grabs a box of crackers and pushes past his brother. “I’m going to study.”
“On a Friday?” Akiteru whines. “Nerd.”
That Monday, his teacher asks him in front of everyone to bring Yamaguchi the previous week’s homework. Kei’s instinct is to ask why me, but he’s not so stupid he’ll question authority like that. Besides, he’s pretty sure his teacher’s answer would mortify him.
So that’s how Kei finds himself in front of the Yamaguchi household that afternoon, wondering whether his friend is even out of the hospital yet.
Yamaguchi’s mother is happy to see him, as she always is. She doesn’t bring up Kei’s absence from the hospital, but he gets the feeling she knows and is just too polite to say anything. Her son is in fact home, fortunately, and she sends him down the hall to see him.
Kei knocks once, and doesn’t wait for a response before entering. Yamaguchi looks up from a comic he’s reading. His eyes widen.
“Homework delivery,” he explains.
“Oh,” Yamaguchi says. “Thanks, Tsukki.”
Kei places the worksheets on his nightstand. “The teacher asked me to copy my notes for you too, but I didn’t have time yet.” He shifts, not quite meeting Yamaguchi’s doe-eyed line of sight. “You’d be better off getting them from Yachi-san, anyway. At least her handwriting’s legible.”
“Um,” Yamaguchi says when Kei tries to leave. He doesn’t like the sound of this um. It’s full of explanation, and stomach-twisting feelings. He wonders if he bolts if it would stop the conversation—whatever it is—from ever happening. But Yamaguchi just repeats himself: “Thanks, Tsukki.”
Kei sighs. “Well, yeah. It’s on the way home anyway, so.” He tries to push the stiffness from his voice. “Then again, I’m not the one who went and got kissing disease, so I don’t see why I should be punished, too.”
Yamaguchi’s jaw drops. Tsukki’s skin crawls.
“What?” he snaps, trying not to squirm under his friend’s sudden scrutiny.
Color floods high into Yamaguchi’s cheeks. “Oh, Tsukki.” He rests his head on his knees. “Of course this is how it would happen.” He kicks a mountain of tissues off the bed, buries his face in the comforter. “Me looking like this, and you looking like…you.”
For a moment, Kei thinks he might have made him cry. He has to force himself to do it, but he takes a step, and another, and he sits as far on the edge of the bed as he possibly can. It’s not comfortable, the way he’s seated, or the way he has no idea what’s going on in his only friend’s head, but he is pretty certain it’s the only right thing to do.
“Hey, Yamaguchi,” he says, after what feels like an eternity.
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember when our moms signed us up for judo that summer? And how we went to that tournament, and you got matched up with that guy who had ten pounds and a whole belt color on you?”
Yamaguchi looks up. He screws up his face. “I do, Tsukki. I lost.”
Kei makes a frustrated sound. “No, that’s not what I—what I’m trying to say is—do you remember how long the match went on? Longer than any other match in the tournament. It took him six minutes to knock you to the ground.”
“He was strong, Tsukki.”
“Quit interrupting,” Kei snaps again. “Let me get to the point, okay? It took him six minutes to knock you to the ground. Don’t you know why it took so long? Why he had to wait until you were both exhausted?”
Yamaguchi looks as lost as Kei feels. He shakes his head.
“You were probably tired, your arms locked like that for so long. You were probably thinking, this guy won’t budge. But he was thinking the same thing about you. That’s why it took him so long. Maybe your throws and pins were shitty but that stuff is just technique.” Kei pushes his glasses into his face. He can’t stand to make eye contact any longer. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
Yamaguchi doesn’t say anything. Kei could just about scream. “Fine then,” he growls.
“You’re just as strong as anyone, Tadashi. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”
It’s hypocritical as hell coming from him, and he knows Yamaguchi knows it. For a moment he regrets every little thing in his life, all the way back to the team he joined with the boy scouts when he was a kid. When Yamaguchi laughs, the sound of it is an immense relief.
“But Tsukki, you got silver in that tournament.”
Kei tsks. “Are you going to make me repeat myself?”
Yamaguchi shakes his head. His hands slide from his knees, fingers bumping Kei’s on the bed. For the second time in a month, he remembers the mysterious scar. It’s weird how important things can happen without a person even noticing.
“Hey, Tsukki?”
“Yeah?”
He hesitates, but the grin crawls wider across his face. “People say I’m too nice to be friends with you.”
Kei rolls his eyes. “That’s hilarious.”