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On the floor of the third gym after cleanup, Tetsurou sighs and rolls to lie on his stomach. "The floor's filthy," Akaashi says from the folding chair he's sitting on, waiting for Bokuto to finish his cooldown stretches before they go and shower (why they have to leave together each night, Tetsurou doesn't question).
"Akaashi," Bokuto chides him. "Be nice to the poor guy. He's gotten rejected at least five times every day for the past week."
Tetsurou lifts his head and scowls. "You make me sound like a loser." Akaashi raises an eyebrow, while Bokuto raises two. Tetsurou rolls over to his back and stomps his feet in a (mini) tantrum. "Why do I still hang out with the two of you?"
"Because Tsukki likes us," Bokuto says with a beaming smile, not a smidge of doubt (or self-awareness) in his words. "Meanwhile, you can't manage to get him alone."
Tetsurou groans, covers his eyes with both of his forearms. This sucks. It sucks that Bokuto's right, that he's been endlessly curious about that stiff middle blocker from Karasuno who he couldn't properly get a read on— only to piss him off so bad that he refused to spend any time alone with him. Tetsurou's been trying each night to get a hold of him, walk him back to his team's room, but Tsukki runs out of the gym as soon as Bokuto and Akaashi leave.
And the thing is, even if they spend so little time together, only making small talk between practices or while everyone's wolfing down their food in the cafeteria—
Tetsurou likes Tsukishima.
Ugh.
Akaashi, as always, picks up on exactly what's going through Tetsurou's mind. "You know pulling on someone's pigtails makes them think you don't like them, right?" he quips sagely, as always. "Thought you'd have figured that out by now."
Tetsurou lifts his arms away to glare at him. "Yeah, yeah. I fucked it up on day one." And he apologized for that! Since then, he just wanted to see more of Tsukishima's potential.
That was until he realized he wanted to see more of Tsukishima, period.
"Well, training camp's over tomorrow," Bokuto says, nudging Tetsurou's thigh with the tip of his sneakers. "Better make it count."
Akaashi extends two hands to help Bokuto get up. "Just… show him that you like him." He and Bokuto look down at Tetsurou, pitying expressions on their faces. "You do like him, right?"
Tetsurou doesn't respond, not wanting these two to be the first to hear it from him. (It should be Tsukki; it has to be.)
All night up until the next morning, that's all Tetsurou can think about: just show him that you like him. It shouldn't be this hard, being honest about something he knows is true. If he misses a block or two during their last practice match, no one calls him out for it, probably thinking that a week of non-stop practice has finally taken a toll on their captain.
Tsukki notices, though, even from the other court in the gym.
Tetsurou catches him looking once, twice. He gets caught staring at Tsukki a few times as well.
When the matches end and everyone runs like animals for some meat, Tetsurou looks around for Tsukki, wondering how he's managed to slink away even at that height. He catches him at the entrance of the gym, pecking at a measly pile of rice and meat. Kenma's there too, the two of them glancing up and around to see if they've been spotted.
Like a deer in headlights, Tsukishima stares straight at Tetsurou from across the crowd. Well, here goes nothing.
"You're eating too little again," Tetsurou scolds. Both Tsukki and Kenma stiffen at his arrival. Kenma, because he's used to Tetsurou's nagging; Tsukki, because… maybe he really doesn't like Tetsurou. Maybe.
Tsukishima groans and stands, bringing his plate with him. "Daichi-san already filled my plate up twice. Leave me alone."
The words sting like a punch in the gut. Tetsurou crashes on the steps beside Kenma and hears him murmur, "Smooth, Kuro. Nice one."
His head drops between his knees. Of course, Kenma's picked up on it too. "Alright, shoot. What's your advice?" he says as a last-ditch effort, knowing that Kenma's been wildly more successful in getting the attention of the person he's interested in. Then again, Shrimpy's not as tough to crack as Tsukki is.
Kenma pauses his game to think. (Tetsurou almost tears up. What an honor to get his full attention.) "It doesn't have to end now," he says, head turning to meet Tetsurou's confused squint. "Maybe he hasn't warmed up to you yet. Or he hasn't cooled off from you annoying him."
At Tetsurou's even more confused expression, Kenma sighs and taps his skull with the corner of his phone. "Exchange numbers and text him, idiot. Who knows when you'll see each other again."
Will that work? Like, would Tsukki even give it to him if he asked— "Then give him your number and wait for him to make the first move," Kenma answers because, of course, Tetsurou was saying all of that out loud. The look Kenma gives him as he stands and walks away makes him shudder.
Get it together, dude.
They're leaving soon, very soon. Karasuno's starting to load their things onto their bus, many of them saying their loud goodbyes, Shrimpy and Baldy at the center of it. Tetsurou stuffs his fists into his pockets, hesitating until the last second.
"You okay?" Akaashi asks from behind him, with a deflated Bokuto following suit. "Have you… you know?"
Tetsurou clenches his jaw. "No, not yet. I can't believe I'm getting whipped around by a first-year like this," he laments. He feels a little dumb, a little out of himself, but it's also… a new feeling. A good feeling.
To be so caught off-guard by someone that you discover a new side of yourself. He doesn't think he's ever liked someone like this, ever felt so curious, ever wanted so badly to have more time with someone and to see where it would go.
But time's ticking, and Tetsurou has to think fast. Think even faster.
"Hey, hey. Help me with something." He smacks Bokuto's chest. "Take your jacket off."
"Huh?"
"Take it off," Tetsurou insists, already sliding out of his. "Unless Akaashi wants to—"
"Nope, leave me out of this," Akaashi says, already walking toward the crowd to avoid knowing anything about whatever scheme Tetsurou's come up with.
Bokuto hands him his jacket and scratches the back of his head. "Then what?"
"Then I wear this—" Tetsurou puts it on, "—and we go up to Tsukki and exchange with him. You take his and I give him mine."
Again, Bokuto's confused. "And why would we do that, if he asks?"
Tetsurou pauses. "Because… it's a thing we do during camp. To have something to remember each other by."
(I want you to remember me. I don't expect much— no, I don't expect anything. I just want you to think of me, every now and then.)
Tsukki mirrors Bokuto's initial confusion when they come up to him and say exactly that. He's already given his clothes to Bokuto, and now he's staring at Tetsurou's bright red Nekoma jacket in his arms. "You're sure about this?" He looks around to see if anyone else is exchanging, but Tetsurou and Bokuto expertly cover his field of view with their bodies, grinning stiffly the whole time.
"Yeah. It's our last training camp too, so…" Tetsurou trails off. "It would be nice to remember it somehow."
There's this hopeful, idiotic part of him that thinks he sees sadness in Tsukishima's eyes. Some sort of hesitation in the way he looks down at the jacket and up into Tetsurou's eyes, over and over again.
Bokuto leaves to say goodbye to Hinata (though Bokuto shoots him a thumbs up when he's well out of Tsukishima's sight).
Tsukishima clears his throat, folding the jacket over his arm. "I… should thank you, Kuroo-san. I learned a lot from you this week."
Oh. He never really expected to be thanked for that. "My pleasure, Tsukki." Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tetsurou places a hand on his shoulder. He and Tsukishima glance at it, as if both of them are surprised at Tetsurou's boldness. "You'll do great, I'm sure."
He means that. He believes in Tsukishima—and the rest of Karasuno, sure—completely.
"I'll see you at Nationals then," Tetsurou says, a challenge lingering in his words and in the smirk he can't help but shoot. Tsukki responds with an eyeroll and a cocky grin, but before he can quip back, Karasuno's managers start calling for everyone to get on the bus. "That's you. Have a safe trip home."
"See you at Nationals," he echoes, and Tsukishima walks away with the jacket tucked against his arm.
Before he loses his courage, he yells, "Hey, Tsukki!" They both wince at the sudden attention they get from the people who hear them. Tetsurou jogs closer and walks him to the side of the bus.
"Give me a call sometime," he mumbles into Tsukishima's ear. And then he runs back to his team, laughing at the confused frown on Tsukki's face.
Through the window of the bus, he sees Tsukishima looking down at his lap, likely staring at the jacket he received out of nowhere.
And later that night, right before Tetsurou falls asleep, he hears the soft buzz of his phone on his bedside table:
> You're lucky I checked the pockets before washing this.
> You could have just asked for my number.
He smiles.
———
Today, Tetsurou played his last game ever with Nekoma, and he feels… huh.
The loss doesn't bother him as much as it should. As captain, he should want for them to reach higher and higher, aiming for that championship that's eluded them since forever. Instead, he thinks of Kenma's smile as he sprawled out on the floor of the court, remembers the excitement in his chest with each block, each spike.
He thinks of Tsukishima, who allowed Tetsurou to rest his head on his shoulder for a moment after that game. And then they smiled, imperceptibly, and parted ways.
Today, Tetsurou played his last game ever with Nekoma. Tomorrow, Karasuno will go back to Miyagi. No more practice games, no more training camps to look forward to.
Tetsurou only has tonight.
hey tsukki <
you awake? <
i'm outside the inn you're staying at <
i didn't stalk you btw, hinata told kenma <
Tsukishima greets him with a lock of hair sticking up at the back of his head and his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Kuroo-san. What are you doing here?" he asks, still rubbing at his right eye under his glasses.
In response, Tetsurou greets him with a quiet, "I wanted to see you before you left," and his hands in his pockets— the pockets of Karasuno's black jacket.
Tsukishima's eyes widen.
(He caught Bokuto in the bathroom, flexing his muscles in Tsukki's clothes. Tetsurou shoved Fukurodani's outfit back in Bokuto's arms and smacked the back of his head. "Take this smelly thing and give me that before you tear the stitches, idiot."
"What— but we exchanged with Tsukki—" The realization dawned on Bokuto as he carefully peeled it off and handed the black jacket to him. "Kuroo, you sly fox."
With a pep in his step, Tetsurou walked out of Fukurodani's quarters and back to his team's. On his way out, he zipped the jacket up in front of him and shot Akaashi a wink.)
It's been a few months of this vague back and forth, weekly texts turning into daily messages (and occasional phone calls when they're both free for the night). Tsukishima's just as stiff through the phone as he is in real life, but Tetsurou knows that if he didn't want to do this, he wouldn't. So the fact that he answers constantly, consistently… Tetsurou doesn't take that for granted.
"So that's what it was all about," Tsukki remarks, nibbling on his bottom lip. Tetsurou doesn't say anything, not yet. Still looking for any clear sign from Tsukki that— "Wait here."
He stands by the side of the entrance, out of sight from people who could pass by and wonder why Nekoma's (outgoing) captain is kicking around in the cold at night. Technically, there's not much to explain; he and Tsukishima are friends. It really isn't more than that, on paper.
But then Tsukishima returns, donning the bright red of Nekoma's jacket that he must have brought all the way from home. It's still in good condition, of course, because Tsukishima is careful like that. But it looks worn in, wrapping perfectly around Tsukki like it was always meant to be his.
They stare at each other, illuminated only by the sconces at the side of the entrance and the lamplight that's several meters away. They stare, and they smile, and despite the crisp winter air, Tetsurou's cheeks are hot enough to keep his whole body warm.
Tetsurou clears his throat, motions his head toward the sidewalk. "There's a convenience store nearby. Do you want to grab something?"
Tsukki grunts in displeasure. "You know I don't eat—" He stops, and the hopeful look on Tetsurou's face must convince him otherwise. He sighs. "Let's go."
The walk to the convenience store two blocks away is unfortunately too short. Even if they try to delay the inevitable by buying hot tea and pudding cups to eat at the stools by the window, it's still not enough time. They talk about school and things outside of volleyball, and they laugh quietly even when there's no one around. Through text, Tsukki isn't the best at sustaining conversations, but at least in person, Tetsurou can observe the sparkle in his eyes, the soft tilt of his head as he listens to Tetsurou's stories. In response, Tetsurou pokes and prods and listens just as attentively as Tsukishima does, hoping that it conveys exactly what he means.
I'm interested in your stories, your concerns, your worries over little things that won't matter in a year or two.
I'm interested in you.
(Tetsurou hopes that he hasn't actually said that out loud at some point. It's entirely possible, knowing what Tsukishima does to him.)
The roof of the inn they're staying at looms in the distance, and Tetsurou feels dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Not yet. He hasn't had enough time with him yet.
Suddenly, Tsukishima turns a corner, walking straight into a park on the other side of the block. Tetsurou follows, grateful that he's getting the same idea. Delay the inevitable, as impossible as it seems, just a little more time, please…
"Kuroo-san," he hears a voice say softly, "we're here."
Tetsurou was so busy in his own thoughts that he didn't realize they already passed through the entire park, circled their way back around the block, and are standing in front of Tsukishima's inn again. Shit.
"Well." Tetsurou clears his throat, forcing himself to smile. "This was fun. Thanks for walking with me, Tsukki."
"Thank you for the food," Tsukki says, hands fiddling with the zipper of his—Tetsurou's—jacket, "and for everything, really." He looks up at Tetsurou, his chin hidden behind his raised collar. And Tetsurou swears, he swears, those eyes are waiting for something to happen.
Do something, the clawing in Tetsurou's stomach tells him.
He takes Tsukishima's hands, guides him to the small space between the wall and the parked bus, and leans in to kiss him.
A hand clutches the front of his—Tsukishima's—jacket, pulling him in closer. An elbow hooks around the back of his head, shifting the angle of their heads so his nose doesn't hit Tsukishima's glasses. And a mouth, soft and sure, sighs into his kiss.
"You," Tsukki whispers, lips still brushing against Tetsurou's, "take forever to make a move." He kisses him again, kisses him with a fervor that Tetsurou matches just as deeply. "All your games and your detours. Even involving Bokuto-san in this, you idiot."
Tetsurou laughs and inhales at the side of Tsukki's neck, refreshing his memory of the scent that barely lingered on Tsukki's jacket after he gave it away. He kisses at the soft flesh beneath his ear, feels Tsukki's pulse jump beneath his lips. Tsukishima tilts his head back against the wall, his lips red with friction, clear even in the darkness of this little space they're squeezed into. And then Tetsurou pulls him back in, no more time to waste.
Tetsurou's smile pressed against Tsukishima's lips, Tsukishima's long fingers stroking the back of Tetsurou's head— this is the inevitable that Tetsurou foolishly tried to delay.
Oh well. No better time than now to make up for it, then.