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“Jesus Christ, you are so annoying.”
The look on your face when those words slipped passed his lips was something that has kept Tsukishima up for the past two nights. A cross between hurt and frustration, thinly veiled by your poor attempt at a neutral expression.
You didn’t say anything as you turned around and walked away from Tsukishima. After weeks of having you all in his face, he thought the image of your retreating back would provide him at least some relief.
It started so suddenly, like someone had yanked a veil from Tsukishima’s head and suddenly he was surrounded by blinding light. Tsukishima could never, for the life of him, figure out why you set your sails towards him, but it was jarring for him to be such a large blip on someone’s radar.
He thought it was weird that you always tried talking to him, asking him questions about volleyball club or how his day went. It didn’t matter if he gave you short and curt responses, you would keep pace with him as he walked down the halls, filling in the gaps of his silence with your endless chatter.
It irked him that you seem to insist on coming to every single one of his games, and irked him even more so that he was able to pick your voice out from the crowd, cheering out his name sprinkled with declarations of victory. It was annoying when his teammates would tease him about it, yet he wonders why he never told you to stop going.
It was annoying - the way you buzzed around his life like a worker bee desperately trying to feed its queen, hoping to get even just one drop of honey.
It was annoying - how you managed to fit yourself so easily and willingly into his routine, and now he can’t really remember when you weren’t a part of it in the first place.
Tsukishima is not used to the brightness of the sun, and he can’t help but wait for the moment he gets burned.
Yet you rip at every precaution, every boundary he tried to set, leaving him bare and exposed to the harsh rays of affection he never even wanted.
Annoying. Annoying. Annoying.
But this. This is a million times worse.
He doesn’t understand why his stomach sinks to the floor when he steps out of class, and you’re no longer there waiting for him to have lunch. Nor does he know why his feet always start to move to the direction of your classroom.
He can’t explain the hollowness in his chest when he sees you sitting at your desk, headphones on and scrolling through your phone as you picked at the food in your bento box. The urge to call out for you always hits him like a wave, but when he opens his mouth, he can never find enough air in his lungs to make a sound.
This is so stupid. Wasn’t this what he wanted?
Didn’t it irritate him whenever you visited him at practice with a sports drink and banana so he doesn’t cramp? He told you not to bother, and that he didn’t need you to take care of him, you weren’t his mom.
So why were his eyes darting to the door every five minutes, waiting for your head to peek in with a smile?
Even worse - why does it bother him so much when you don’t?
This is stupid.
Didn’t he hate finding you waiting for him outside the locker rooms, claiming he had to walk you home because the sky was getting dark and it was dangerous for you to go alone? You lived fifteen minutes passed his own home, and he gets stuck walking more than he has to. He complained to you all the time, and you’d just laugh and tell him to be a gentleman.
He didn’t want to be a gentleman. He didn’t want to do any of that stuff. He just wanted to go home and get some rest.
Yet when he finally finds himself standing in front of the gate of his home, his tired legs don’t stop.
This is stupid, he thinks as he walks the extra fifteen minutes he’s grown accustomed to walking every day.
He thought it was annoying, the way you managed to weave your very essence into the fabric of his life before he could even notice.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
He repeated the words in his head as he gave your door three rapt knocks. He hears stumbling from the other side, fiddling with his fingers as he waited on your doorstep.
The door swung open, and Tsukishima felt his heart squeeze at the sight that greeted him. You stared at him in stunned silence, dressed in a set of dinosaur pajamas he remembers you buying on one of your walks home simply because he mentioned he maybe, kind of thought they were cute.
“In your pajamas already?” Tsukishima said, an attempt to break the silence. “It’s barely seven o’clock.”
“What are you doing here?” You ask quickly, and honestly, Tsukishima wants to know that himself.
“I haven’t seen you the past few days,” he says the first thing that comes to mind, shoving his hands in his pocket as he looked at anywhere but you.
You crossed your arms, leaning back on your foot and popping a hip. “I thought I was annoying?”
You were annoying. It annoyed him that you were so kind to him, that you knew exactly how to make him laugh, how to get him to talk, how to make him feel comfortable.
It was annoying.
But …
“I never said I didn’t like it.”
Your grip on your door handle tightened, knuckles turning white as Tsukishima watched the heat spread on your cheeks.
“Y-you’re so - ! Ugh! You’re so stupid!”
Tsukishima wanted to laugh. He was incredibly stupid.