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The fit was all wrong.
Regardless of how many suits he tried, none of them worked with his gangly, slim figure. You’d think suits would be primarily suited for tall-and-gangly, but the problem was that Kei was a little too tall-and-gangly.
At least he hoped that were the case.
All the pant legs he’d tried were either way too short or way too long, and no matter how many dress shirts and coats he tried on they were always too tight on the shoulders and too loose around the arms which meant they bunched awkwardly when he moved.
The deafening rip of a seam tearing somewhere in the suit way out of his budget had him taking it off in a panic, awkwardly wrestling off the entire thing before any of the staff would notice. He walked out of his dress room, dejected and irritated and in desperate need for this day to finally be over, feeling uncharacteristically insecure about his body, and was outside met with the floundering of his old Karasuno team.
Hinata and Nishonoya were engaged in an intense contest of which one of them could better nail the pose of a rich action movie mastermind, a determined Tanaka as their judge. He stood dramatically and swung his fancy coat over one shoulder. Out of the three idiots, it pained Kei to admit that Tanaka best nailed whatever nonsense character they were aiming for.
Sugawara and Daichi were both goading Asahi into a disastrously ugly, muddy yellow suit with a clashing purple floral pattern, no doubt joking about his newly acquired internship at a fashion company in Tokyo.
Asahi had actually been the one to suggest a get-together with their old team, although from what Kei gathered of their frantic texting Sugawara had been the one to initiate contact and make all necessary preparations. After weeks of pointless back-and-forth Asahi had been offered the internship, which had resulted in a chorus of delighted congratulations in their collective group chat. In Kei’s case it meant seriously contemplating flinging himself off a cliff over the flood of spam that followed. Eventually they settled on booking a table at a fancier restaurant than usual (note, they never wandered beyond your average hometown diner), which for many of them meant they were in dire need of appropriate attire, again mostly pushed by Sugawara.
And that was, in short, how they all found themselves gathered at the second-grade tailor in Tokyo, most definitely posing as a major annoyance to the distressed staff milling about them, urging Hinata to “Sir, please, that material is very fragile.”.
He watched Hinata bow deeply in apology; his face flushing in embarrassment all the while Tanaka and Nishonoya laughed at his blunder. He received a well-aimed magazine to the back of his head from a Yamaguchi who’d grown into his role as captain better than Kei would have ever anticipated.
He felt strangely proud watching him berate the shrimp.
Kei decided it best to give up his search for a proper suit and sighed as he moved to sit next to Kiyoko and Yachi, both of which were engaged in a rather intense debate on the unpracticality of dresses, or whatever.
Slumping in his seat he fished out his phone out of his jacket and pretended he’d never been there in the first place, disappearing into the background of the team’s commotion. He contemplated texting his brother, asking him to lend him a dress-shirt and some pants, but thought better of it when he remembered he hadn’t been able to borrow Akiteru’s clothes since his senior year of middle school.
Just about to fucking lose it, Kei squirmed further down into the leather cushions of the seats and crossed his arms petulantly. He wanted to yell out that he was leaving, that nothing worked for him, but stopped with his mouth open when the curtains of the dressing room in the furthest corner were pulled back and a very uncomfortable Kageyama inched out into the light.
He stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors next to him and adjusted the collar of the dress shirt he was wearing.
Unaware of the silence which had befallen the room.
Somewhere on Kei’s right he noted a muffled gasp. Everyone else, including the two workers, were simply standing. Gaping.
Kageyama looked like sex.
Everything on him, minus the dark blue button up, was a rich black. The waistcoat with the embroidered, swirly pattern fit snugly to a trimmed waist and accentuated the sharp dip of his back. The dress shirt, size just-right, hugged every curve of two strong arms and a pair of sharp, wide shoulders. The tie, a shiny, elegant black added a level of poise to the wilderness that was Kageyama that left Kei’s head reeling with fantasies of tugging it out of its confides and trailing kisses up that stupidly sharp jaw until he reached those perfect, wet lips.
The pants—oh God, the fucking pants—were fitted to absolute perfection. Every inch of fabric draped like dark waves down long, toned legs and pronounced an ass only intense volleyball adoration could make. Neither too long nor to short; they fell flawlessly over a pair of shiny, black oxfords.
To top it all off, and to really send Kei’s soul souring out of his mouth, Kageyama had unknowingly of his unfair sexiness rolled up the sleeves in an effort to make himself more comfortable, and the resulting exposure of veiny forearms, perfect hands and a black watch was all it took for Kei, too, to gasp in astonishment.
The first to awaken from the Kageyama-induced shock was a stuttering, fumbling, Sugawara whose eyes were the size of dinner plates—scanning a growingly stiffening Kageyama from tip to toe over and over.
“Kageyama?” he gasped and stepped forward, hands out awkwardly in an aborted move to grab him, “What happened to you?!”
Kageyama’s frown morphed into one of confusion. “Nothing? Why? Do I look weird?” he asked, self consciously tugging the hem of the vest.
Self-consciously, Kei’s brain scoffed. He had no right to look that good and dare be self-conscious about it.
“No! Not at all!” Sugawara hurriedly corrected, shaking his head furiously. Kei noted the lightest blush gracing the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks. “On the contrary, you look…”
“…good.” Supplied a beet red Hinata.
Kei tried, he really tried, to let their reactions fly over his head, but something in their obvious flustered state stirred something ugly in Kei’s stomach. Still, he couldn’t blame them. No one in their right mind could.
One of the workers, a young girl in her twenties with a ponytail so high Kei feared for her brain-functioning, approached the still awkwardly shuffling boy—
…man.
“How are you feeling, Kageyama-san?” she asked, hand coming up to twirl the very tip of her ponytail, feigning contemplation as she daringly dragged her gaze up his torso. She let go of the ponytail and used her free hands to instead run nosy fingers down the seam at the front of his vest, feeling him up in the process.
Kageyama, ever the oblivious idiot, didn’t seem to notice anything. Too caught up in having to socialize with a stranger, he allowed the blatant groping in favor of mumbling something along the lines of “It’ alright, I guess. A little… tight.”
You bet it’s tight, Kei thought, and you better leave it as such. If he concentrated hard enough, he felt like he might hear the mental agreement of everyone else in the room.
Tanaka and Nishonoya growled half-heartedly at him, finally snapped out of their shock.
“Lookin’ to steal all the ladies, Kageyama-kun, huh?” Tanaka growled, brow raised and hands on each hip as he squared himself in front of Kageyama.
Which, in their third year, was quite honestly futile. Sometime during their second year Kageyama had finally managed to outgrow Asahi. By the time their senior year came around he was about as tall as Kei himself, which in itself had been troubling. It meant Kei had a longer expanse of legs to trail hastily the few times he dared to ogle him, and it also meant he had to adjust his previous what-would-kissing-Kageyama-be-like fantasies to make up for the added height.
It gave Kageyama that tiny little something he’d lacked their first year. It gave him width, and power, and it made Kei squirm in his bed whenever he allowed his mind to wander the possibilities of it.
Sometime during the start of their third year Kageyama had ceased to be a boy and had slowly morphed into a man, in more ways than his height, and the small additions of it were disastrously painful for Kei to deal with, who’d recently only been blubbering and embarrassing himself anytime he spoke to him.
He felt like he’d turned into someone else. Someone who couldn’t keep his feelings in check even if his goddamn life depended on it. It felt like he’d morphed into Hinata, who in their second year had finally cracked and come out to the entire team, and who, like Kei, had issues with this new version of Kageyama.
He never said it out loud, of course. That’d be downright suicidal considering how much Kei and the others would tease him for it. But Kei noticed. He could tell there was… something… there. He didn’t know what. Didn’t know whether they were actually dating, or if Kageyama was even gay to begin with. From what he knew he got confessions on a regular, which at least meant others were interested in him. Whether Kageyama returned those feelings, ever, or not, no one could tell.
It was torture, because it wasn’t like Kei could ask. He could, lately, barely even talk to him. Anytime he tried it either came out all wrong—every syllable doused in protective venom—or he froze and stuttered like an idiot, making a complete fool out of himself every time.
It resulted in Kei preferring the first option. Hostility was easier, it was comforting. It wasn’t that Kei was scared Kageyama would understand what his blubbering meant—unless Kei wrote “Think I might be falling for you” on his fucking forehead the idiot wouldn’t understand—no, it was about the mortification he faced anytime someone else noticed his fuckups.
It was about feeling as if he wasn’t himself anymore. The shame that came with his image, his pride, the thing he’d been building for years just shattering at his feet with a single glance or touch of a hand from Kageyama.
Especially Kageyama. The guy he’d proclaimed his least favorite person to the whole entire world.
It wasn’t fair, karma that is.
-
He was snapped out of his own head when a watch-adorned hand waved in front of his field of vision.
When did he get so close?
Kei snapped back into himself and jumped in his seat as consequence to Kageyama’s sudden proximity. He hadn’t been ready.
“There you are…” Kageyama grumbled, which shouldn’t have been sexy, but at this point Kei feared Kageyama could put on a clown suit and do the snake and he’d still beg to ride him.
“What.” It came out harsh, as per usual, but judging by the mocking grin on Kageyama’s face it hadn’t come out as harsh on his face.
His very, very warm face.
If his venom-dipped wording hadn’t been enough to shield him from the onslaught of Kageyama then nothing would be, and that realization posed as an imminent threat to everything Kei was. He eyed the place and the changing rooms and noted that no one was really paying attention to them. Most of their team members were in line, getting ready to pay and leave—suits and dresses on—and the few workers who glanced their way were mostly doing so to eye Kageyama.
How infuriating.
“Aren’t you gonna pay for that?” he asked in lieu of anything better to say.
Kageyama chuckled and plopped down in the seat next to him. The motion meant Kei managed to catch a whiff of him, his perfume and shampoo and the plastic smell of a still brand-new suit.
“If you hadn’t been spacing out, you’d have seen me pay,” he said and ran a hand through his hair.
Kei wanted to choke him, or maybe that was because he was choking. He couldn’t tell anymore. He hadn’t taken a breath in a while.
He scoffed, “Right. Well, at least one of us had something to pay for,” he said, more bitterly than intended.
Kageyama perked up at that and glanced at the bundle of clothes still resting in Kei’s lap.
“What about that?” he asked.
“Not getting it.”
“Why? It looks good.”
“Not on me.”
He insisted on watching the spinning fan above their heads rather than look at whatever face Kageyama was making. He’d never admitted out loud, to Kageyama, that he had issues about his height—his body—though he doubted Kageyama had gotten that.
Or at least, so he thought.
“You can just ask them to adjust the fit, you know?” he said, which was ludicrous. Kageyama teaching him how to socialize? He didn’t think he’d ever get to experience that.
But, to be fair, he hadn’t thought of that as an option. It seemed too much of a hassle to make the staff there do that, too, on top of having to handle the bunch of them for hours. Hinata, Nishinoya and Tanaka primarily. That in and of itself was enough to drive anyone insane, last thing they needed was to try to suit fit some gangly teenage giraffe.
“Right,” he settled on and turned his head away from Kageyama entirely. The corner of the register suddenly seemed a lot more interesting than seconds prior.
“Don’t ignore me. You know I’m right.”
“So what?” He could feel himself bristle, his shoulders tense. His voice had come out a little louder than necessary, perhaps.
Kageyama turned in his seat next to him. He could hear the creaking of the leather, the crack of the wood as he leaned his weight onto the armrest to get a better look at Kei’s expression.
Whatever little he showed, Kageyama must have caught it in his eyes.
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” he said after a while. The question caught him off guard. He turned, then, and was met with a pair of eyes that said I understand.
“Nothing ever fits.” He smiled, something small and gentle, and leaned back into his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “Buying jeans is a nightmare. Shirts even more so. My only two options are: so short the world will have to stare at my navel all hours of the day, or: so long I’ll never be allowed into another restaurant ever again.”
Kei snorted at that, despite himself, and felt some of the tension in his shoulders give.
Kageyama’s hands fell down to his lap. Two long fingers pinched at the seam in his pants and pulled gently.
“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to find a suit that fits but here I am. It’s a little on the smaller side, maybe, but whatever, right?”
Kei wanted to say “Yeah. Whatever indeed. You look amazing.” But what he said instead was: “Don’t you dare go soft on me. You being nice is not healthy for anyone.”
Kageyama raised a brow at that. His gaze fell to the bundle of clothes and then came back up to Kei’s face. “Alright then,” he said, and the undertone of mischief in it made Kei’s toes curl in dread, “I’ll be mean, then,” he said, and the millions of fantasies that went through Kei’s mind could have never been enough to prepare him for two strong hands dragging him out of his seat.
“Wait! What are you doing?! Let go!”
“Nope!” yelled Kageyama, hand firmly gripping Kei’s wrist, “No will do until you’ve found a good-enough fit, too. You’re not coming with us looking like the ugly duckling. Especially not with that miserable face.”
Kei touched gingerly the planes of his cheeks with his free hand, looking for something he wasn’t sure what. Perhaps whatever Kageyama had seen that had so clearly screamed of insecurity on his face.
-
---
Never had trouble getting what I want, but when it comes to you, I'm never good enough.
You make me glow, but I cover up, won't let it show,
So I'm putting my defenses up because I don't wanna fall in love.
---
-
It was a mess of noisy, tipsy businessmen and women inside the glamorously dimmed restaurant.
Sugawara, ever the adult and also the one whose name stood on the reservation, spoke to the waiter behind the register. He seemed a little confused at first to be greeted by a hoard of, mostly, unnervingly tall individuals all dressed in suits. They must have looked like a cult, he thought, as the waiter motioned for them to follow him to their table.
The place Sugawara had chosen was, by all estimates of Kei’s very rough calculations—going off the pristineness of those damn champagne glasses glistening beneath the chandeliers—way out of Kei’s and everyone else’s budget.
Even those of the team who were working were way too broke to admit to having the money for any more than a seat and a glass of water. Immediately, Sugawara assured them that despite its, looks the place was surprisingly affordable. He even promised to cover any excess expenses.
True to his word, Kei noted in the far-off corner a couple and their kids enjoying the ambience of the restaurant’s aquarium, speaking in hushed tones to one another, sharing loving touches and kisses.
It made him squirm like a virgin, the reminder it served as.
Their table, fit for a large group, was on the other side of said aquarium, which in Kei’s case meant he’d have a first-class view of the lovey-dovey display beyond the wobbly lines of the water between him and the couple.
For the others, mainly Hinata and Nishinoya, it meant staring at the various, colorful fish swimming around idly in the coral blue water. Nipping at the glass occasionally and swirling past each other in a blur of colors and shapes.
He wished, for a second, that he were sitting right between them rather than a seat away, for at least then he wouldn’t have to sit uncomfortably close to Kageyama, who’d chosen to cage him in and restrict his only escape.
The table—or rather, more so a booth—sure enough fit all eleven of them, but it was no where near big enough for extra leg room, which meant sitting thigh to thigh with Kageyama-Handsome-Tobio.
Their waiter for the night approached, eyeing the duo with their faces squashed against the glass verily before bringing out his clipboard and opening his mouth to introduce himself, but before he could get any further, he stopped. His eyes, glued to a clueless Kageyama, widened in time with the drop of his jaw.
Unfortunately, for him, he was cut off by Daichi clearing his throat rather loudly. Kei wasn’t sure whether it’d been directed at Hinata and Nishinoya, or at the waiter, but judging by the twitch in his plastered-on smile Kei had to assume it had been aimed at both.
“Oh, uh, sorry!” said their waiter and bowed, “I must have spaced out for a second. Long night, haha!” he laughed, attempting to regain composure over himself.
It pained Kei to watch in more ways than one. For one, he was insanely disturbed by the waiter’s blatant staring, and for two, perhap most importantly, he hated him because he reminded him of himself.
He could almost see his own face, plastered on a cheesy waiter’s attire, with his name-plate embarrassingly out-there for the world to know who exactly it was that was embarrassing himself beyond saving, fumbling for something, anything to say to not sound like an idiot in front of Kageyama-Handsome-Tobio.
Unfortunately for the waiter, he couldn’t use Kei’s words-of-venom tactics on an unsuspecting customer.
The waiter cleared his throat, blush still horribly rosy on his face and ears, “Excuse my floundering! Welcome! I’ll be y-your waiter for tonight. Please make yourselves comfortable. Anything I can get you started with?”
They went around the table (twice because Hinata changed his order thrice and confused the already confused, poor waiter) and each gave their order for drinks.
Their waiter, a lot less nervous the second time around, managed to sneak in not only a perfectly timed flirt at Kageyama but even going as far as to wink at him before leaving. Hand lingering dangerously over Kageyama’s hand before he left with their order a second time.
Silence befell the table, and then all hell broke loose.
“Kageyama-kun! What the hell!”
“Teach us! How the hell do you do that?!”
“Guys, too?!”
“Do you get confessions from guys as well, Kageyama-kun?”
“Anyone I know?! Anyone from the basketball club?!”
It was a chorus of disaster, all sorts of personal questions thrown about. So personal, in fact, they made even Kei blush. Kageyama could only gape at them, unsure of how to respond.
“Well,” he started, eventually, and the whole table silenced. Everyone leaned forward, eager for gossip. Kei would never admit he, too, tune in on every syllable that came out of Kageyama’s mouth. “I do get asked out by guys… but it’s not so frequent. I think they mostly dislike me.”
Beside him, Yamaguchi bristled, “Oh? Is that so? Why? Because you steal all their girls, huh?” he asked, but Kei could tell there was no bite to his words.
“Well…” Kageyama echoed, but he didn’t get further before an over-eager Hinata leaned over Nishinoya.
“Have you ever said yes? To a guy, I mean! I know you went on dates with—”
“Hold up!” Daichi butted in, and Kei almost thanked him because he was having a minor crisis. “Kageyama has been dating people all this time and we didn’t know about it?”
“Kageyama! How dare you! I thought you were our dear kouhai who told us everything!” Sugawara cried, hands clutching his glass of mineral water so tight Kei feared it would shatter.
Kageyama only squirmed where he sat next to him, clearly uncomfortable by the interrogation. “I, uh, did go on a few dates… but it never got very far…”
Kei wasn’t sure whether that was a yes to the blatant “So, are you gay?” question or if he just masterfully dodged a bullet by both answering and not answering at the same time.
Hinata seemed to give up at that, presumably a little dejected at not knowing something about Kageyama, and so he instead settled on what was familiar to all of them. He challenged him.
“I dare you to order a glass of wine the next time Hiro-san comes by!” he declared, loud and proud.
An echo of everyone shushing him followed, and was then immediately counteracted by their seniors going wild over the prospect of a minor ordering a drink.
“I agree with Hinata!” Tanaka said, and slung an arm over his shoulder. “I say we have the mighty Kageyama pay for his unfairness.”
“What unfairness?! What the hell did I do?!”
“You swooned everyone, that’s what you did! I bet you could make him bring you wine without even getting questioned!”
“I don’t want him to do that!”
“What? Are you chickening out, Yamayama?”
And there it was, the final blow. A twitch in Kageyama’s brow was all it took for the night to downhill. The seniors were desperately trying to change Kageyama’s mind, but they all knew their efforts were futile. Once Kageyama had his mind set on something, especially if it entailed winning over Hinata, there was no stopping him, but what he hadn’t accounted for was the way in which Kageyama would go about it.
No, Kageyama wouldn’t simply shily order a drink—he waited for their waiter to come close and tugged his sleeve as he was walking by. Hiro-san stopped dead in his tracks, probably mortified over possibly having been caught stalking, when Kageyama—to everyone’s absolute disbelief—smiled.
“I’d like to place an order for a drink, if that’s alright?” he asked, to which the waiter nodded frantically, already flipping pages in his little notebook.
Kageyama—still smiling charmingly—pointed to a random wine-brand in the litte drink-menu on the table and, as a cherry on top, crossed his arms, leaned over the table, and tilted his head in wait for the reaction. Exposing the tendon of his neck in the process.
No one in their right mind would say no to that.
Nodding furiously, the flustered mess of their waiter, or rather whatever was left of him, noted his order and scurried away to bring it to him.
“Kageyama,” Sugawara spoke into the deafening silence, “Are you sure you haven’t hit your head somewhere?”
Kei wanted to laugh, or cry, or both, because there he was, a mess of a person currently getting insanely flustered over whatever that had been. He couldn’t imagine the pain, the mortification, the poor waiter had just endured if Kei had gotten that affected by it.
Somewhere, deep down in his gut, ugly jealousy reared its head and made him even less keen on staying put. And yet, out of pure morbid curiosity, he remained seated, listening.
“I can’t believe that worked! Kageyama!”
“The power you hold whenever it’s about winning is absolutely frightening.”
“Did you change your personality just for that or are you naturally that flirty? Because quite frankly both options disturb me.”
“Hey, guys, remember freshman Kageyama not knowing how to say nice? Yeah. Brings me back,” said Asahi, which was the last straw for Kei’s fragile composure.
“Excuse me,” he choked out and stood up, abruptly, before squeezing his way past Kageyama. Ignoring the heat in his face as he did.
He could feel their stares on him, puncturing his back as he left in search for a bathroom.
He was fuming, all right. Nothing had been going right that day, and finding out that Kageyama wasn’t who he’d been thinking all this time he was frightened him. It meant so much more than just Kageyama has probably done this and that with some other person and you weren’t even an option. It meant Kageyama didn’t see him, or even the team, as people worthy to confide in. He didn’t understand how the rest of them could just let it go; joke about it all, when it was so glaringly obvious that Kageyama had kept a large portion of himself hidden for so long.
Was he aware of how he looked? If so, has he used it before? Surely this hadn’t been his first time flirting so openly with someone, right? A guy to boot.
Kei’s mind was reeling as he searched the restaurant for a bathroom sign or an exit, anything, when he stumbled right into poor little Hiro-san.
They stopped, and stared, and then Kei did perhaps the dumbest thing he’d done his entire life.
“You know he’s taken, right?” he said, cringing inwardly with every syllable that left his mouth, “So get your hands off him.” But he didn’t stop.
Instead he made sure to bump his elbow into the unsuspecting waiter as he passed, now eyeing the outdoor terrace where people were milling about, dancing and drinking and chatting.
He just needed some air.
The air outside was humid and warm, and the gentle breeze tickled his skin and rose goosebumps on its surface. It was a beautiful night, starry and clear and comforting in its scents of the flower arrangements and the many candles lit about the place. People were spinning leisurely around him, all dancing to the slow rhythm of an old, American song.
Give me what I cry for.
You know you've got the brand of kisses that I'd die for.
It was slow, and romantic, and perfectly in beat to the warmth vibrating in his cheeks. God, how he wished for the Earth to swallow him whole. How he missed the days when he could scoff and scorn at his teammate and know his voice wouldn’t break partway through or his stupid face would give away just how much he didn’t mean a single mean word he uttered.
You know you made me love you.
Most of all he missed their freshman year, when Kageyama had still been just Kageyama. When Kageyama was their awkward, lanky, pretty setter and nothing more. When he got confessions but never took them further than to the back of the school or the front gates after class.
Or so he’d thought, at least.
It scared him how much he didn’t know about Kageyama, and how little time he had left to learn it all. They were seniors now. Soon they’d part, and probably never speak again, and Kei will have to leave with so many questions unanswered, so many things unsaid, so many insults and hurtful things not forgiven.
So many kisses not shared. Not felt.
“Tsukishima…?” came a tentative voice from behind. Kei immediately went rigid, could feel the taut line pull his shoulders back.
When had he…?
“Were you sent here by the senpais? Tell them I’m fine, I just needed some air. It was stuffy in there.”
He knew the crack in his voice had given him away, but he hoped this new, mature Kageyama would get the hint and just leave. The last person he’d wanted to see was him. Anyone but him.
“I know that’s not why you left and now I think I may know why you did.”
At that, he turned to stare in shock at a very calm and yet very flustered Kageyama scratching the back of his neck.
“I heard you… earlier…” he said, and Kei’s whole world tilted off its axis and flipped over his head. “What you said… to the waiter… were you…were you jealous?”
He sounded unsure. Like he wasn’t sure he even wanted to ask. As if Kei would bite his head off for even insinuating such a thing, but the thing was that he didn’t. He merely stood and stared in shock, searching for something to say but coming up empty handed.
Kei decided then and there that unknowingly having your crush hear you jealously and passionately tell one of his admirers that you and he are dating topped his lift of the worst ways in which his life could end.
“I’m sorry,” settled on, finally, and didn’t dare look up.
He shut his eyes tight and waited for the moment it would all come crashing down on him. Waited for the disgust, or maybe the inevitable rejection he hadn’t prepared himself for in the least. The cutting of all fragile ties left between them before they’d even been properly established.
Swallowing back tears wasn’t a very Kei thing to do, and yet there he stood. Trembling in utter mortification. Staring at the toe of his boot. Trying to will the blurriness of tears out of his field of vision.
A pair of black, shiny oxfords stepped into his view.
“What are you apologizing for? Don’t to that, it’s creepy when you do it,” Kageyama whispered, only for him to hear. An echo of Kei’s own words to him during that match in their freshman year, at a time when Kei thought their relationship had started growing into something less hostile and more playfully teasing.
He looked up, then, warily, and was met with a sight he’d etch into his eyelids to keep forever projected onto his retinas.
Kageyama was grinning wide at him, all teeth and dimples and perfect skin creasing under the florescent lights.
You made me love you.
A big, warm hand brushed away whatever tear had dared fall. It was such a tender gesture that even more tears threatened to find their way out and onto Kageyama’s welcoming palm. He radiated warmth, as per usual. It was something Kei had experienced for the first time during a training camp in their second year. They’d been lying next to each other when, at night, one of them had moved closer to the other. Kei had woken up not only to the sight of Kageyama’s naked back, but also to the immeasurable warmth of his skin where it met Kei’s flung arm.
He sighed into the familiar touch, all bravado bleeding out of his system along with his nerves. He didn’t have the energy to fight anything anymore. All he wanted was to curl up in his embrace and stay there forever, hidden from the outside world.
“Kageyama?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you gay?”
Silence.
“Something like that. Why? Is it important?”
“It is to me. Can I hug you?”
He laughed.
“That’s gay but okay. Don’t get snot on the suit, though.”
Kageyama was even warmer when both of his arms were slung around Kei’s still shaking form. His right hand rubbed circles into his back, easing him back down on Earth and yet never quite letting him crash back into reality. The warmth, and the scent of his skin and perfume, kept him soaring past cloud nine.
“Is it important to you because you are too, or because you wanted me to be?” he finally asked.
I didn't want to tell you I want some love.
That's true, yes, I do.
“Yes.”
And then, in the quite of their own little flower-scented corner, Kageyama laughed. A real laugh. Deep and rich, radiating from the depth of his chest where it was pressed against Tsukishima’s.
“Yes, you’re gay or yes, you wanted me to be gay?”
“Yes.”
You’ve gotten enough confessions for a lifetime, he bitterly thought, figure this one out yourself. I’m not saying it. You and I both know I would never.
Kageyama didn’t seem turned off by Kei’s stubbornness. Instead, as anything Tsukishima-Kageyama went, he rose to the challenge. In one motion he untangled himself from a steadily more panicked Kei and looked him straight in the eyes before leaning in to press his lips to his.
You know you got the kind of kisses that I die for.
Kei had kissed a handful of people in his life, one of which had been Yamaguchi a very fated and very repressed day in middle-school, but he’d never kissed someone who knew how to kiss.
Was it experience? Or was it Kageyama’s usual, unnatural-natural talent in the most random things?
His train of thought was quickly lost to the feeling of hot, wet lips gliding against him, doing things to his heart no human should have the power of doing. Not to him. Not to Kei.
And yet, there he stood, right in front of him, with his hands burning indents int his back and hip—swooning him off his feet. Every little sound, every gasp, every touch and caress sent Kei’s heart reeling out of his chest. He was certain Kageyama could feel it, pressed as close as he was, but Kei couldn’t really find it in himself to care.
They broke apart for a moment and did nothing but stare. For a second time seemed to stop. It was Kei and Kageyama and their shared little bubble, but all those questions wouldn’t quit plaguing his mind.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, hands resting awkwardly atop Kageyama’s shoulders. Feeling the bumps of the embroidery there.
Kageyama only nodded for him to continue.
“Are you and Hinata… have you two…”
“No. Absolutely not. I love him, but not like that.”
“Well, he certainly wouldn’t mind you doing this and that to hi—”
“Tsukishima!”
Ah, there it was. The signature frown, this time coupled with Kageyama’s most endearing feature—his anger-blush.
Kei laughed, despite himself. Despite the ruined mood. Lazily he draped both arms over his shoulders and leaned in close, so close he could smell his cologne and feel the pulse of his heart in his throat if he pressed his nose just a little closer.
“I have so many questions for his majesty, you know? But I guess it’s good to know Hinata isn’t competition.”
“Competition?” Kageyama’s hands had moved to his back pockets where they’d found permanent residence. Kei tried not to show how much that flustered him. “Are you insane? Do I look like I’m interested in anyone else?”
“I thought you weren’t interested in anyone until today, king. Cut me some slack. What’s that about anyway? How many have you had?”
“Don’t be crude,” he bit, which sounded strange coming from the crudest person Kei knew, “It’s not like that,” he finished.
“Oh? Really? So you never went further than butterfly kisses and hand holding?” he mocked, not expecting an honest reply, but as with everything that night in this, too, Kageyama had been out for the kill.
“I have, but it’s not like I’ve fucked the entire school. You make me sound so cheap. How lowly do you think of me?”
He hadn’t expected honesty, and he certainly hadn’t expected that honesty. It was unnerving and hot all at once, having it confirmed and this time also knowing that, despite the people under his belt, Kei was the one whose arms were wrapped around Kageyama.
“If I couldn’t be your first, can I be your last?” he blurted, feeling uncharacteristically tender in the moment.
You know you made me love you
Kageyama breathed a quite laugh and moved to look him in the eyes again, forehead to forehead.
“Ask me out first.”
Kei gulped and steeled himself beneath the gaze of those reflective, piercing eyes. This close, he could see the reflection of the sky and the city skyline in them. It took his breath away.
“Will you be my boyfriend… king,” he whispered.
“You couldn’t resist, could you?”
“It’s a pet name.”
“So you’ve liked me for that long, huh?”
“Shut up and kiss me you moron.”
And kiss him he did.