Chapter Text
It was stupid to remember, which is why he had never and would never tell anyone, but the first time it had happened, Tsukishima had freaked out for a good minute and a half. It wasn’t like in movies, where you suddenly heard a voice that wasn’t your own inside your mind. Even if it had been, it would have freaked him out. But instead, he got panicked thoughts. They weren’t quite feelings, but rushed ramblings to run away, to stand up for himself, to do something, dammit , stop crying, that’ll only make it worse. However, Tsukishima wasn’t crying. He was just walking home and still the desperate musings of what was undoubtedly another child’s mind invaded him.
So yeah, he freaked out and for a second he wondered if he was getting possessed by a ghost or if he was having a nightmare. Or maybe it was a warning, some supernatural warning to do something different, to change route. He didn’t understand it and even as a kid, he was skeptical about those things, but when something as weird as that happened, he couldn’t help it.
Which was why he changed his route a little, just in case, and walked near the park.
There, he found another boy. Well, he found around four boys, really, but only one that mattered.
Yamaguchi Tadashi, he would learn later, was his name.
Tsukishima had hesitated for a second, as he saw the crying boy, then put the pieces together. He was being bullied.
He looked at the other guys. Maybe it was the joy at finding something to distract him from his sudden fear, maybe it was his own annoyance at his cowardly and uncool attitude. Maybe he actually felt bad for the boy…. But no, probably one of the first two.
He laughed. “Pathetic,” he said. And the kids had turned around to try and mess with him, but had then seen his height, had perceived his cocky attitude. They had left.
And it had been just the two of them.
Tsuishima glanced at the other, and not wanting to go back to thinking about what had made him go there, he addressed him, casually:
“You alright?”
Yamaguchi’s lip had trembled, as he tried and failed not to burst into tears. “Y-yeah, I just… I-”
And that was when Tsukishima absolutely lost it . He kept a straight face, but he absolutely lost it once he got home.
He didn’t even know how, but he knew why.
That voice in his head?
It had belonged to Yamaguchi.
After that, they had introduced each other, talked a bit, discovered they lived near each other, etc. But to be honest, it had been a bit of a blur, of course, because Tsukishima just couldn’t understand it. What was happening?
Well, he had heard what happened when you met your soulmate, but children discovering their soulmate was practically unheard of. He had read that later on. They were strange cases, and many times, through the years, he had ended up closing the browser window on the few articles and thought pieces. First because he hadn’t understood them and they made him frustrated, but then…
Well, who knew. Certainly not Tsukishima.
The thing was, that after a while, he decided it was nothing. Why? Because the next few times he saw Yamaguchi, Tsukishima was alone in his mind. No extra voices, no strong, foreign feelings. Nothing.
Plus Yamaguchi never mentioned it.
So yes, it had been weird, but he soon discarded it. He shrugged it off. He didn’t have the time or energy to think about it, either way. Between school and volleyball, and practicing with Akiteru? Who would have time to concern themselves with that? Not Tsukishima.
So time passed.
And it turned out, Yamaguchi was pretty okay. He was a bit of a crybaby, yeah, but he listened to Tsukishima when he talked about dinosaur trivia, comparing them to pokemon. He thought Tsukishima was cool, because he was tall and he was mean, instead of thinking he thought too much of himself because he was tall and also mean. Yamaguchi paid attention when Tsukishima taught him the rules of volleyball and, yeah, he wasn’t a good player, but he was eager to learn and to be honest, Tsukishima had never had someone who put up with his far-too-witty not-so-little self so well.
And well, they became friends, sort of. As in, Tsukishima wouldn’t call him his friend aloud, but that was not a problem with Yamaguchi. It wasn’t that Tsukishima didn’t want to be friends with him or that he was embarrassed of Yamaguchi. He was mostly embarrassed of the fact he had a friend and that he regretted not having had a friend first, because, honestly, as nice as it was having a cool brother who was the ace of his junior high team and who liked to spend time with him, who was Tsukishima going to tell about his awesome brother? He couldn’t tell Akiteru himself. It’d go to his head and it was embarrassing. But Yamaguchi was enthusiastic, and he looked absolutely starstruck whenever he saw Akiteru or volleyball in person, and that was nice because he showed all those things that Tsukishima himself was too uptight to admit.
Even if sometimes Yamaguchi looked a bit too starstruck and that much was pretty annoying. There were times when Tsukishima looked at Yamaguchi and he could almost hear him gushing about Akiteru and how great he was. He could identify the little puppy crush and it was weird and annoying . Akiteru was cool but he wasn’t that cool.Tsukishima was, definitely, cooler. He was also taller than Akiteru had been at his age! So there were moments when Yamaguchi stared at Akiteru and Tsukishima scoffed, to which Yamaguchi instinctively smiled and said “Sorry, Tsukki!” and then they were back to talking about something nicer, like volleyball teams that weren’t Akiteru’s or… or other non-Akiteru things.
In hindsight, Tsukishima had been pretty dumb.
And that applied to many, many things. Like stupid Akiteru himself. He and his lying self. Benched Akiteru. Not even benched. He didn’t even play. He didn’t even have a uniform . He wasn’t good enough and he wasn’t awesome. He was a liar.
And Tsukishima remembered that day, still felt it in his gut, the sense of overwhelming disappointment, of shame, of loneliness. It was impossible to describe, impossible to process. Tsukishima had broken that day, and he had walked out.
And Yamaguchi had followed after him.
Tsukishima had wanted to push him away, to yell at him, but he didn’t have the words, he didn’t have a reaction. He just wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. That would have shown he cared about what his brother had done and he couldn’t. He didn’t deserve to be cared for.
Still, Yamaguchi had followed.
“Tsukki!” he said, running behind him to catch up with his long strides.
“Leave me alone,” he replied, not turning to look at him. He tried to keep his voice steady. He didn’t care. Akiteru didn’t deserve caring unless you were an idiot.
He kept walking, just a little faster, thinking Yamaguchi had left. Of course he would have left. Yamaguchi thought that Akiteru was so great , and now that it turned out he wasn’t? Why would he keep talking to his stupid, naive brother who had bought every lie for years ?
Why would Yamaguchi still be his friend after he had found out how lame they were? The whole family. Liars or idiots.
“Tsukki.”
Tsukishima almost turned around out of sheer surprise that he was still there. He sounded slightly out of breath.
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”
Tsukishima was mean and nasty, why would they be friends? Yamaguchi wasn’t like that. Yes, they’d only been friends because of Akiteru and now it turned out that Akiteru was trash.
He felt his eyes burn but no. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. No. Not that. He wasn’t lonely. He wasn’t hurt.
“Tsukki!”
“What?!” Tsukishima snapped, turning around to glare at Yamaguchi. Immediately, he regretted it.
Yamaguchi’s face was red and wet with tears. Tsukishima wondered how he hadn’t realized that. But then again, how had he not realized that Akiteru was lying? Maybe he was just-
“Don’t,” Yamaguchi said, as he finally reached him. He wiped away the tears and looked at his hand, with a strangely surprised face, as if he hadn’t noticed his own crying before that.
Tsukishima raised his eyebrows. “Don’t what?”
“Y-you know! Don’t! Don’t walk away! Don’t act like… like that!”
Tsukishima scoffed, looking away. “Like what? I’m just walking away because I went to see my brother play. Turns out he wasn’t playing, why would I-?”
“You are hurt,” Yamaguchi stated, which took Tsukishima by surprise. He wasn’t asking, he wasn’t hesitant.
He knew.
“I-I’m not,” he tried to convince himself.
“Yes you are!” Yamaguchi replied, stomping on the floor. “Yes you are hurt because what your brother did? It’s hurtful! You know that!”
Tsukishima scoffed.
“And it’s fine to be hurt.”
“I’m not hurt!” he replied, frowning as his lip trembled.
“Yes you are. And you are angry.” Yamaguchi hesitated for a second. “And you are scared.”
For a second, Tsukishima glanced back at Yamaguchi. “I… why would I be-?”
“You don’t have to be!” Yamaguchi’s face showed uncertainty, confusion, as if he wasn’t sure where the words were coming from. “I’m your friend.”
Tsukishima’s eyes widened for a moment. What did that even mean?
“I’m your friend, Tsukki. I like spending time with you.” Yamaguchi assured, as his voice broke. Somehow, it sounded as if he was begging. “I want to be your friend.”
Lips pursed, Tsukishima looked away. No you don-
Yes I do.
“Yes, I do! I do!” Yamaguchi yelled, and it sounded like a tantrum, but Yamaguchi had never raised his voice at Tsukishima like that. It was obvious he was scared of yelling, it showed in his movements and his tears. But he did it anyway. Because it was the truth. Because he needed to say it.
Because Tsukishima needed to hear it.
He needed to know he hadn’t lost his best and only friend the same day he’d lost his brother.
And Yamaguchi knew that.
Even if one second afterwards, he looked up with wide, scared eyes. “Can I please still be your friend?”
Tsukishima would have normally hesitated, stopped for a bit, puffed his chest and straightened up to try and seem cool.
Not then.
“You don’t have to ask.” Tsukishima said, softly.
And there was something about Yamaguchi’s absolutely relieved face that made Tsukishima’s chest warm. It also opened the gates for all other feelings.
And he broke down crying.
Yamaguchi had shushed him, then, softly, awkwardly but with so much care that Tsukishima could never make fun of it, even if he’d wanted to mention the moment later on, when it was past.
They had never mentioned it again, which was for the best. Tsukishima still remembered, though.
And it made him wonder.
But wondering was all there was.
To be fair, that wasn’t rare in their dynamic.The unspoken agreements, the unestablished routines, the implicit rules.
The memories they shared but they didn’t bring up, fears and words that went unsaid but not unnoticed.
Tacit, but always there.
The times when Yamaguchi’s voice rang in his mind, loud and clear and ever louder.
The nights Tsukishima spent reading about soulmates.
“Soulmates share intense moments through mental links.”
It was ambiguous, but little by little, Tsukishima thought he understood it.
Like the fear of being bullied, or the pain of being betrayed. The anxiety of stepping into a volleyball match for the first time.
The fear of demanding effort. It wasn’t just the need to show pride, but to feel it. Because Yamaguchi, silently, knew of his shame and distrust for hope.
The happiness of being complimented by your stoic friend.
Tsukishima knew it, read about it, researched it, something slowly swelling in his chest. And though he told himself it was stupid, it remained.
The curious looks that Yamaguchi gave him, after those nights of intense readings, when Tsukishima yawned.
Was it a game they were playing? “Who’ll mention it first”? Or did they just want to be certain?
“Prematurely formed bounds have been proven to be unreliable and fragile.”
Tsukishima, scoffing at that repeated piece of information, deciding to finally go to sleep.
Tsukishima knew it all too well, had known it for years.
And then, of course, Kageyama and Hinata ruined it.
The thing was, with them, that there was no subtlety, just idiocy. There had been a moment, during that first match among themselves, right after Daichi had said that Hinata’s eyes were closed while he had spiked the ball: Kageyama and Hinata had looked at each other as if finally understanding something. They had only known each other for days, but it was clear to everyone.
Except each other.
They had gone back to playing. And they kept their weird tension, and their stupid fighting, their miscommunication. So much so, that even Tsukishima and all his knowledge had decided that it had been nothing, a misstep. They were too loud and confused to be linked.
Having a soulmate meant having a companion in the silence. A steady comfort that needed no reassurance. The ground beneath your feet: you knew it existed, you didn’t have to say it. No need for Descartian thinking to make it true.
Except the moment they had beaten Seijoh, Hinata had turned to Kageyama and jumped into his already open arms as if they had planned it, and after that they’d been walking hand in hand to practice and everywhere else.
They hadn’t become less noisy or annoying to anyone except themselves, having realized, accepted that understanding in a way that simply didn’t make sense to Tsukishima.
He guessed it didn’t have to make sense to him.
Because, every once in a while, it was possible to find them in the yard, on the rooftop, behind the gym, uncharacteristically calm. Kageyama, with his head on Hinata’s lap, eyes closed, easily mistaken for sleeping. Hinata, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s dark hair, humming softly. Sometimes, out of nowhere, Hinata raised his hand to be held. Kageyama didn’t open his eyes, they said nothing.
Not aloud.
And sometimes, when they hung out in groups, they just started chuckling in unison, sharing knowing glances.
Tsukishima despised them.
So, of course, they ruined everything and they didn’t even notice.
It had just happened: the chuckling, and Tsukishima had decided he was not putting up with that. Not that day. There was a limit to his patience. Granted, it was not too hard to reach that limit, but either way, that day he’d had it with their lovey-doveyness.
“Nope,” Tsukishima said, walking away and quickly being followed by an amused Yamaguchi.
“Tsukki, that’s rude,” he said, shaking his head.
“They are rude.”
A pause. Fair enough , it meant. Tsukishima smiled lightly, but it didn’t last.
Because Yamaguchi glanced at the pair and his smile turned strange. He looked back at Tsukishima then, his eyes showing some shame that Tsukishima didn’t have time to understand before his friend spoke up:
“But honestly, sometimes I wonder what that feels like. To just… know”
A pause.
Fuck, Tsukishima thought.