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He feels empty inside, as of late. But it doesn’t matter, and he doesn’t care.
Tsukishima Kei doesn’t just have issues, he has entire subscriptions, and he knows it. But that’s nobody’s business but his, as far as he’s concerned, and he does a fine job carrying on anyway. He’s often criticized for being cold, detached, overly harsh and frightening.
But it doesn’t matter, and he doesn’t care.
Besides, it’s not like Yamaguchi seems to mind. He’s stayed by Tsukishima’s side for years, since the day they met. Tsukki’s sharp tongue has never cost him their friendship -- though he’s certainly hurt Yamaguchi more times than he cares to admit. He’s gotten better about that, really worked at it, even if it’s not noticeable to others aside from the two of them.
Their teammates have commented that Tsukishima is the moon, and Hinata is the sun, but he thinks they’re missing something -- that Yamaguchi is a star, lighting the way, glowing faint but steady and keeping the moon company, no matter what. He has a quiet strength and determination that has only grown over the years; he’s steadily improving himself, even as Tsukishima falls into a slump, even as he stops putting in the effort to improve at the game he’s played so hard for so long.
But even then, Yamaguchi hasn’t left his side -- in fact, he reached out a hand and dragged Tsukki back from that precipice with a few harsh words of his own, a wake-up call that Tsukishima had desperately needed. Yamaguchi is strong, stronger than anyone realizes -- and as of late, Tsukishima is beginning to figure out how just how much his partner means to him, just beginning to see how truly amazing Yamaguchi really is... though not everyone can. And in some ways?
It does matter, and he does care.
The boy standing in front of Yamaguchi is a little taller than Tsukishima, but thinner, with close-cropped black hair and a backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. His mouth is twisted in a predatory grin as he leans forward, and Yamaguchi takes one tentative step back.
“Hey, Freckles. You know, I forgot my bus fare at home. Spot your pal a few thousand yen?”
“I... I don’t even know you,” Yamaguchi says quietly. “I--”
The boy takes a threatening step forward, then another, and another; he’s very nearly right in Yamaguchi’s face at this point. “That’s not important, is it? I’m asking very nicely. You don’t want to upset me, right?” He sneers, so close that Yamaguchi is bending back to avoid him. “Want me to play target practice with those nasty spots all over your face?”
Tsukishima steps forward, placing one steadying hand on Yamaguchi’s shoulder.
“Is there a problem?”
His voice is colder than it’s ever been before, his eyes dark with unpleasant promise as he stares the other student down. “I asked you a question,” he says sharply, stepping forward. The student steps back, and now Tsukishima is standing between him and Yamaguchi. “Is there a problem?”
“N...no.” A bead of sweat rolls down his face, his fists clenched and shaking as he backs away from Tsukishima, step by step.
“Good,” Tsukishima replies with a smile devoid of mirth. “In that case, I suggest you get out of my face. Understood?”
But the boy is already walking away, and when Tsukishima turns around, Yamaguchi is staring at him with wide brown eyes.
“...T-thank you, Tsukki.” His eyes fall to the ground, like he can’t bear to look at him head on. He’s proud of the fact that his shoulders are only shaking a little, if nothing else. “Sorry about that--”
“Why are you apologizing?”
Yamaguchi blinks at him, uncertainty clear on his face. “I mean... for inconveniencing you, I guess? For not--”
“No.” Tsukishima takes him by the hand and begins to walk; Yamaguchi follows him, staring at their hands in surprise. “It wasn’t your fault.” I was angry at him, he wants to say, I hated that he dared to speak to you like that, I wanted to hurt him. But the words die in his throat, like they always do; and yet, Yamaguchi seems to understand. Spending years around Tsukishima has given him an insight into the other boy’s feelings and the underlying meanings to the things he says, and despite himself, Yamaguchi’s lips quirk up in a small, shaky smile.
They walk home together, their steps easy and sure, their hands linked together the entire time. Tsukishima grabbed it in the heat of the moment, but unsurprisingly found he had no desire to let go... and Yamaguchi certainly didn’t mind, either. Tsukishima only breaks the contact once they’ve reached his front door; his skin is still warm from the contact as he opens it and steps inside.
Once they’re in his room a few moments later, Tsukishima places his bag on his desk, and motions for Yamaguchi to sit on his bed.
“I want to do something for you,” he says, his voice not giving anything away.
Yamaguchi carefully places his bag on the floor beside the desk, giving him a curious look, but does as he’s asked. “What is it, Tsukki?”
“Here.” He sits beside him, the mattress dipping slightly with their combined weight, and places his hands on Yamaguchi’s upper arms to turn him around. “Face this way, and take off your shirt.”
Yamaguchi flushes a little, but turns so his back is facing Tsukishima; he lifts his shirt over his head and carefully folds it before placing it on the sheets. Self-consciousness and stress shows in the visible tension of his muscles, and he takes a deep breath before releasing it and trying his best to relax. The blond takes a deep breath of his own, and a moment later places his hands on Yamaguchi’s shoulders before gently kneading at the skin and the strained muscle beneath it.
A surprised, but pleased gasp tumbles over Yamaguchi’s lips as Tsukki begins massaging him with a tenderness that many would be surprised to know he possessed. His hands are firm and strong against Yamaguchi’s back as he works out the knots, eases the tension from beneath his skin with patience and concentration.
They stay there like that for quite a while, in comfortable silence as Tsukishima pours all of his attention into the massage. Yamaguchi’s eyes slipped closed long ago, lost to the moments of surprisingly intimate bliss, his arms tinged with goosebumps at Tsukishima’s touch.
Eventually, Tsukishima pulls his hands away -- he resists the sudden, inexplicable urge to wrap them around the boy in front of him and places them in his own lap instead. “Do you feel better?” he asks quietly.
Yamaguchi turns and smiles; it’s brilliant, warming the colder parts of Tsukishima’s mood. “Yes! Thank you so much, Tsukki, I really appreciate it.” He turns and faces him completely; something in the blond’s stomach turns in nervousness as he realizes how close they are, on his bed of all places. He squashes the feeling down as best he can; he knows what it is, but can’t imagine how he’d ever acknowledge it. “You’re so good at that,” Yamaguchi continues. “Like a pro!”
“I read up on it a little yesterday,” he says, looking at the wall. Eye contact was always a lot harder for him when he opened up, even a little. “You’ve been tense lately from working so hard, so.”
Yamaguchi’s mouth falls open, just a little, in surprise; but then his smile is back, twice as bright as before. “You researched it? For me?” He leans forward, wrapping his arms around Tsukishima with no hesitation at all; his face is pillowed against the taller boy’s shoulder, hiding the faint pink on his cheeks.
Tsukishima blinks once, twice, three times; tentatively, he reaches a hand forward and cards his fingers through Yamaguchi’s hair, idly playing with the ends as he draws him closer, his other arm wrapping around the brunette's waist. He’s not good at this, he has no idea what he’s doing, and he’s probably stiff as a board.
But it doesn’t matter, and he doesn’t care.
It feels nice, if unfamiliar; it’s intimate in a way Tsukishima never is, but then again, Yamaguchi is his exception for many things. He finally relaxes into the touch, his cheek resting against the brown locks of hair beneath him, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding in.
Your heart is beating so fast, Yamaguchi thinks. He doesn’t voice it aloud, though; he’s never been so close to his friend before and doesn’t want to startle him away. He can’t hide the smile on his face, though; he’s glad, glad he forgot to restrain himself, glad he gave in to the urge to finally hug him.
They stay there like that for what feels like hours, holding each other; the only sound to break the air is their soft and even breathing. By the time the sun has dipped under the horizon, Yamaguchi has fallen asleep in Tsukishima’s arms, and it’s then that the blond finds the courage to place a chaste kiss against the other’s hair. He feels an endless, profound affection in his heart; Yamaguchi is strong, a brilliant star in the night, a beautiful flower among a sea of colorless weeds. His lips curl up in a tiny smile as he resigns himself to falling asleep in his uniform; he can’t move at all without waking the boy in his lap, but that’s all right.
It doesn’t matter, and he doesn’t care.
The next morning, Yamaguchi apologizes profusely for falling asleep and practically pinning Tsukishima to the bed, but he waves off the words with a simple motion of his hand.
“If it bothered me, I would have moved you,” he says simply; Yamaguchi stares at him for a second before a smile wipes away the surprise on his face.
The days pass uneventfully, though Yamaguchi is steadily growing more casual with his affection; his hands often brush Tsukishima’s as they walk, or their shoulders will bump one too many times for it to be completely on accident. But Tsukishima never pulls away, and doesn’t seem to mind in the least; in fact, Yamaguchi could swear that the blond touches him a few times accidentally-on-purpose as well.
But two weeks after the night that Tsukki massaged him, Yamaguchi feels his heart gripped with the icy clutch of fear.
They’re walking home together, as they always do, when the student from two weeks ago steps into their view -- and he doesn’t look happy at all. And yet... his eyes aren’t on Yamaguchi this time.
It’s Tsukishima that he’s walking towards.
Tsukishima stops, halting Yamaguchi by gently holding an arm in front of him. He’s put himself between his friend and the boy that nearly assaulted him once again, his face devoid of fear. The nameless boy is stalking forward; he runs one hand over his head as he stops, laughing. But there’s no humor in his voice, only anger.
“You know, blondie, I’ve had some time to think about what happened a few weeks ago, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get. Can’t believe I let you scare me off my prize like that.” Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, even as the boy steps closer, so close that he could reach out and touch him. “What, don’t have anything to say?”
Tsukishima lets out an irritated sigh. “Why waste my breath on someone like you?”
“You serious?” He sneers, and takes another step inward, his fists clenching at his sides, knuckles drawn white with tension. “I’m here because I’m not gonna let you walk away without paying for humiliating me and cheating me out of some easy cash. You get me?”
Yamaguchi’s heart is hammering furiously in his chest, a wave of adrenaline surging through him strong enough to leave him lightheaded. Tsukishima doesn’t bother responding, and the aggressive teenager grows visibly angrier. “That’s it,” he says, pulling his arm back for a punch, “I’m gonna beat the shit out of you before I fuck up your scrawny little boyfriend--”
He doesn’t have time to finish the sentence, because a fist is slamming into his face.
Tsukishima is staring in open shock as Yamaguchi’s knuckles meet the taller boy’s mouth, hard enough to split his lip; his blood is smeared across Yamaguchi’s skin. “Get away from him,” the brunette says in a dangerous whisper; there’s a tiny tremor in his voice, but it’s not clear if it’s from fear or rage at this point. “Don’t... don’t ever touch him--”
The older teen is holding one hand over his mouth, blood falling sluggishly between his fingers, looking like the world just fell out from under his feet as he turns and runs, putting as much distance between himself and the duo as quickly as he can. Yamaguchi laughs then, his voice too high pitched and cracking with an edge of hysteria as he begins to tremble all over, his heart going far too fast as the adrenaline begins to wear off. “All talk, huh, Tsukki? ...Maybe we should take a different route home from now on.”
Instead of responding, Tsukishima is suddenly in his personal space, picking up his hand and inspecting it for damage; Yamaguchi’s knuckles are a little swollen and will probably bruise, but he got off pretty lucky. He’s quiet for a moment, brow furrowed in consideration as he runs his fingers aimlessly over the hand he’s holding before he looks up, meeting his friend’s gaze with a rare smile.
“You’re the last person I expected to deck someone in the face, Yamaguchi.”
Yamaguchi looks at the ground, suddenly bashful. “I... the things he said -- he was going to hit you, Tsukki--”
“It’s okay,” he says. He pauses, and then adds, “I understand. Let’s go and clean you up.” He threads his fingers through Yamaguchi’s, openly holding his hand as they begin to walk. They’re silent on the way home, but occasionally, the blond offers a gentle squeeze with his hand, quiet but reassuring.
They reach Tsukishima’s house; Yamaguchi’s motions are nearly mechanical as he enters, like he still can’t believe what he just did. A few moments later, he’s seated on Tsukishima’s bed as the taller boy runs a warm, damp cloth over his hand before laying an ice pack across his battered knuckles.
“Take your shirt off,” he says, not meeting Yamaguchi’s eyes. The brunette blinks at him for a moment, setting the ice pack aside as he takes it off and folds it, placing it on a pillow.
Tsukishima gently turns him around; but instead of massaging him, he just runs his hands over Yamaguchi’s back for a few moments, his fingers trailing against warm skin, gentle and exploratory. He begins to knead, then, his touch just as gentle and firm as it was two weeks before. They’re both quiet, again, the time passing by as he works the shaking and remnants of adrenaline and stress from Yamaguchi’s body.
When he finally stops, he trails his hands over the expanse of Yamaguchi’s back again, mapping the freckles splashed against his warm skin; Yamaguchi sighs into the touch before turning around, an easy, comfortable smile on his face.
“Thank you, Tsukki--”
“No.” He wraps his arms around Yamaguchi before he can say anything else, carding a hand through soft brown hair; flyaway strands tickle the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, Tadashi. For... everything.”
Yamaguchi’s heart seizes; he gasps against Tsukishima’s neck, pulling the blond closer to him. “Tsukki--”
Warm lips press against Yamaguchi’s forehead, and he loses the ability to speak entirely. Tsukishima is still quiet as his breath falls against the brunette’s skin; but after a few moments, he finally speaks.
“I think your freckles are cute,” he says, so quiet that Yamaguchi can barely hear him.
Yamaguchi smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle, warm and full of joy as he hugs the blond closer, impulsively kissing him on the cheek. Tsukishima’s pale skin is splashed with a charming blush as Yamaguchi holds him close, sighing happily. The brunette gathers up his courage; he has something to tell Tsukishima, has to say the words, obvious as they might be.
“I like you a lot, Tsukki. But I... I guess you probably already knew that.”
Tsukishima’s grip tightens, and after a moment, he finds the words he wants to say, whispers them against Yamaguchi’s hair like a secret.
“I like you too.” His cheeks are scarlet, his blush reaching the tips of his ears and fading into his neck. He knows Yamaguchi has noticed, and usually, he’d never let anyone see him like this, not even him -- but this time, it’s fine.
It doesn’t matter, and he doesn’t care.
[end]