Work Text:
Kei runs into Kageyama at the park outside of his museum after work.
King, he almost calls out.
Only Kageyama couldn't look less kingly if he'd tried. There's stubble around his chin and his hair looks like it hasn't been washed in days. He's staring off into the distance sulking like when the school's vending machine ran out of milk and he has to make do with some lesser beverage.
This is Kageyama Tobio. The starting setter for Japan's volleyball team for two Olympics. The man has had his face plastered over yoghurt commercials and sports drinks ads for years. He's scored Japan five service aces against France, in the last Olympics. How is he slumped on a park bench in Sendai in a hoodie without anyone recognising him? For that matter, why is he even here?
"Oi," he says as he approaches. Kageyama doesn't seem to hear him, so he aims a light kick at his foot.
"Tsukishima?" Kageyama blinks up at him, as though confused at why he's there. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question, king." The line between Kageyama's brows cuts deeper in his skin.
"Just moved back."
"Weren't you snapped up by some fancy Italian team last year?" Kei asks and hates that he knows this tidbit of information about Kageyama's life. "Missed Japan too much?"
Kageyama laughs, a sound like breaking glass. "Not much use to them if I can't play."
The puzzle pieces slot into place.
"What was it, your knee?" Almost every volleyball player he knows has some kind of knee issue now. It makes Kei relieved to think - well, good thing he didn't continue once he was in college then, despite all the enthusiasm people tried to fill him with in high school.
Kageyama nods. "I had the op in Tokyo a couple of months back. Came back here once I could move without crutches again."
There are a thousand things Kei could say, all of them meaningless. I'm sorry to hear that, does it still hurt, are you going to be able to play ever again?
Stupid. If he could play, he'd be doing it now. Kageyama has always been a volleyball obsessed freak, and he always took the term as a compliment.
"Have you had dinner?" Kei says instead, sticking his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.
Kageyama looks startled, but he shakes his head.
"C'mon, King," Kei says, jerking his chin. As bad as his manners are, even he knows one doesn't leave a high school teammate to sulk on a bench by himself.
"So what now?" Kei asks over ramen with as much delicacy as taking a chainsaw to a steak. At least Kageyama understands bluntness isn't equated to meanness and doesn't look offended.
"Hell if I know."
Kei remembers that Kageyama didn't go to college. Didn't even try. Then he remembers his abysmal grades and supposes it's a good thing he didn't anyway.
Try coaching, he wants to suggest, but there's the memory of how frustrated even Hinata, with his uncanny ability to mind-meld with Kageyama and explain his mood swings and mental conditions from the tiniest tics would get with Kageyama's inability to use his words when explaining a move.
"You're back with your mom?"
Kageyama stabs a piece of pork with his chopstick. "Not that she's around much."
"Your sister?" Kei asks. It's not like he wants to waste any part of his brain with the details of Kageyama Tobio's life, but one picked these things up after three years of volleyball practice together, even if they have grown up since then.
"Moved out years ago. She has a kid now."
Uncle Tobio. Weird ring to it. But then, neither of them are high school kids anymore, even if Kei feels like one, watching the line of Kageyama's jaw, the way his brows scrunch and relax as he speaks.
"So you're just hanging around alone at home and at the apartment?"
Kageyama shrugs.
Kei mentally checks off their list of mutual friends. Hinata is in Osaka, of course. Yachi has moved to Tokyo, and he doubts Kageyama is in touch with Tadashi. Most of their seniors are still in Miyagi, but he doesn't think Kageyama would be the type of person to reach out to them. Which means Kageyama has almost definitely been moping around at home.
"Move in with me," Kei says, before his brain can begin listing all the reasons why this would be a terrible idea.
Kageyama, however, doesn't get that memo and spits his noodles out. "What?"
Kei leans back casually as though his heart isn't playing taiko drums against his rib cage. "You're back in a city you haven't lived in since high school and don't know what to do with your life. It can't be good for you to be stuck at home all the time."
Kageyama looks dubious. "Why would you want me in your space all the time?"
"Maybe I'm lonely too," Kei shrugs. If a sad sounding fact is willingly offered, it doesn't count as a vulnerability. "I moved out from my parents a while back. It's nice. Quiet."
Kageyama is squinting at him, the same look he used to give when Kei would apologise instead of leaving a sharp-tongued jibe. Sometimes he did that on purpose, just to get exactly this reaction. "Where's Yamaguchi?"
"Working as an engineer. Good, respectable job."
Kageyama nods and looks back at his drink.
Kei shouldn't press. He does anyway.
He leaves enough money on the table for the ramen, pockets his phone and stands.
"Last chance, King."
Kei has always known Kageyama as a force of nature. Someone who would crush anything that dared stand in its way. Either one moved aside, or one let him flow through.
He does not know what to do with an empty shell of a Kageyama. Sugawara, he thinks, would know what to say. Or Tadashi. Tough luck, they're not here but Kei is, and he only knows how to push and turn until he gets a reaction. Any reaction, he thinks, would be better than the blank look Kageyama is giving his beer.
Kageyama stands, and Kei wonders if he pushed him too far.
"Sure," he says.
The first time Tsukishima Kei had seen Kageyama had been during one of the middle school games. He'd just finished his own match, and hung around the gymnasium to see what the competition for this year was like. Kitagawa Daiichi had always been a powerhouse school, so it had made sense to watch them, but he walked in just as the setter stalked to the back of the court and started yelling at his teammates, jabbing a finger in the air. "How many times do I have to say it? Follow through to the end."
How terrible, Kei had thought. The setter looked like he was close to grabbing his own teammate and punching him. And all for what? One point when there was already a huge gulf between their team and the others.
The setter had been exceptional throughout the game, well above the usual standard for middle schoolers - and he'd demanded that same standard from all his teammates. No wonder a number of them looked close to killing him.
The setter, he thinks, fiddling with the lint in his hoodie pocket as he watches, is like a tsunami, a wave cresting through all obstacles.
Kei had wondered what it would be like to stand before him and meet him face first.
Kei leads Kageyama to his place once they're done, still wondering what the hell he's doing. He closes the door behind him, and then Kageyama is crowding him against the entrance.
"The fuck are you - "
"Tell me to stop and I'll stop," Kageyama says with his lips on Kei's jaw, his breath smelling like beer and ramen.
"I didn't - I didn't ask you over for this." Kei freezes as he feels Kageyama's leg slide between his thighs. This is why he doesn't act on impulses, things happen and he's thrown out of balance and he doesn't know how to react and Kageyama's hands are pressing against his hips and -
"I know," Kageyama says.
"You're drunk," Kei accuses. He still hasn't shoved Kageyama off. "I'm not going to be a stand-in for someone else."
"Are you telling me you don't want me?" Kageyama asks, soft and sounding broken. Kei looks him in the eye, and thinks there is still something of a challenge there. "You did when we were in high school."
Kei chokes. "Fuck off."
"Hinata and I might have been stupid about a lot of things," Kageyama says, licking his lips. "But you weren't exactly subtle."
Kei sucks in a breath and just gets a whiff of Kageyama's deodorant. It's the same one he had used in high school. "I never thought you were stupid," is all he can say. "A volleyball obsessed savant, maybe."
"I could tell," Kageyama says dryly. "From all those times you called me stupid."
He is still pressed against the door, Kageyama's weight still above him. The only sound Kei can hear is their ragged breathing and the pounding of his blood in their ears.
"Right," Kageyama finally says as Kei remains frozen under him. He exhales, long and loud, and then moves away. "Sorry about that."
Kei grabs hold of Kageyama's wrist and pulls him close because he's a contrary bastard like that.
"You asshole," he mumbles against Kageyama's mouth.
Kageyama reaches up and presses hot hands to Kei's face, kisses him full on the lips. Kei stops thinking after that.
"Did you and Hinata date?" Kei's not sure why the question comes out of his mouth - idle curiosity perhaps, but his entire body is a little too tensed waiting for Kageyama's answer.
"No," Kageyama replies, short and sharp.
They're lying in Kei's room, and he's never been so thankful that he splurged and got a queen's sized bed - the average futon of course, is not made for someone of his height in mind. Kei has never taken Kageyama for a cuddler, but he can now confirm that he is one, limbs draped all over Kei's length like an octopus. He's not complaining.
"And what about you, Tsukki?" Kageyama drags out the nickname and Kei doesn't know if he wants to punch him or kiss him to shut him up. "Did you and Yamaguchi - "
"That would have been too much like making out with my brother," Kei says, cutting him off before he can finish the sentence.
"Mmm," Kageyama says, pressing a kiss to Kei's lips, then pulling away, hot breath ghosting against Kei's skin. "And this? Is this like - "
Kei doesn't bother trying to answer, just shuts him up with another kiss.
Kei wakes the next morning when his alarm sounds, only to find himself alone in bed.
Right, he thinks, blinking as he puts on his glasses. Of course. Why would Kageyama stay, after all?
Then he walks into the living room, only to find Kageyama in his favourite dinosaur T-shirt and a pair of his boxers standing over the stove.
"Morning," Kageyama says when he sees Kei, reaches and out and pours out a steaming cup of coffee.
"What?" Kei says eloquently.
Kageyama looks at him, almost as though he's concerned, the asshole.
"You take your coffee with milk and two sugars, right?" he asks, but he's already opening the fridge for the milk.
"What?" Kei says again. He doesn't ever remember telling Kageyama that.
Kageyama pushes the cup at him. "Co - ffee," he says slowly, as though it is Kei that is broken.
Kei is not broken, Kei is just deeply confused at why Kageyama is standing in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, giving him his coffee the way he likes it, and apparently making him breakfast. This is not, he thinks, the same world he woke up to yesterday.
"I didn't know you could cook," he finally says after Kageyama pushes a plate of eggs at him.
"Part of caring for your body right," Kageyama replies, turning back to the stove and busying himself with wiping it down. Kei takes a tentative bite, and fuck, the eggs are delicious, even though he'd never say it aloud. "You should have more vegetables in your fridge instead of all that junk."
"Apologies, my liege," Kei says dryly, reverting back to snark because he's still trying to understand what the hell is going on. "I'll be sure to bring some back for you."
Kageyama looks at him again, the same way he'd pushed the coffee over to him like Kei is a simpleton. He doesn't hate it, Kei realises.
"Just leave your keys behind when you go," Kageyama says. "I'll head out to get groceries and my stuff."
Right. Because Kei had, on some drunken impulse, invited him to stay over. And Kageyama has said yes and now Kei will have to live with the consequences.
"Try not to destroy my place while I'm gone, King," Kei says.
"Okay," Kageyama says. "Don't be late to work."
Then he reaches across the table and kisses Kei on the lips, warm and firm and confident, like it's something that he does every morning.
When Kei gets on the bus to work, he finally lets himself crack and texts Tadashi.
"Could you run that by me again?" Tadashi says into the phone again. "I'm not sure I understand."
Kei sighs. He knows he's been crystal clear, but Tadashi, it seems, is insisting on being thick. Purely to annoy him, he guesses, but he knows he can't be overly mean now, not when he is the one who uncharacteristically called Tadashi up in a panic during his lunch break.
"I told you," he says brusquely. "I ran into Kageyama at the park after work. He looked like he was in bad shape, so I invited him for dinner. Then I got drunk and told him he could stay with me rather than go back alone to his apartment. And I - " Woke up this morning sore and covered in bruises, but Tadashi doesn't need to know that. " - woke this morning and he was cooking breakfast for me and is apparently going to buy vegetables and bring his things over."
"You don't have a spare room," Tadashi says, far too perceptive. "And your couch isn't all that comfortable. Did you share the bed?"
He grits his teeth. "Yes."
There is a long pause on the other end, and thank all the deities that Kei does not believe in that Tadashi is too polite to confirm the obvious. "This is Kageyama Tobio we are talking about?" Tadashi asks instead. "Angry eyebrows, best setter in Miyagi prefecture when we were in high school, twice-Olympian, that Kageyama Tobio?"
"Yes."
"The same Kageyama you had a crush on in high school?"
"I did not - I did not have a crush on him."
"You did," Tadashi says, all too nonchalantly, as though he isn't ripping apart Kei's carefully ordered world to shreds. "I even called you out on it before, remember?"
Kei remembers when Tadashi could barely speak without hiding behind Kei with every sentence, who would apologise and mean it, with as much as a sharp word from Kei. He's proud of the confident man his friend has become, but it would all be so much simpler if Tadashi had just remained meek and quietened down with a sharp word from Kei.
"No," Kei lies.
"Well," Tadashi says, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. "So he took you up on your offer to let him live with you, and also had sex with you. I fail to see the problem."
"The problem," Kei hisses, trying to not choke on the memory of Tadashi saying sex, it's almost as bad as the time Akiteru had attempted to bond with him by talking about the girls in Kei's college and Kei had to flatly tell him that he wasn't interested in girls at all, Yes, big brother, not at all, but I like men okay. "Is that I now have someone else living in my space - "
"Who you invited to move in with you - "
"I was drunk."
"So tell him that. He'd take the hint and move right back out. You'd just look like an asshole, but I doubt that'd really affect you."
Yes. That would be the simple direct solution to this. It's not like Kei has any qualms with being rude or direct. But - and here, Kei is at least, honest enough to think. But.
"Unless... you don't actually want him to move out?" Tadashi asks slyly.
"Shut up," Kei hisses, and ends the call before Tadashi begins to laugh again.
"Hey," Kageyama says when Kei stops and stares from the hallway, as though Kei is the stranger in his own home. "Dinner will be ready in five."
The whole house smells of soy sauce and mirin. There's a large bowl of salad, miso soup, what looks like simmered lotus root, and fish grilling on the stove. It's a far cry from the convenience store bentos and sandwiches Kei usually buys himself. "This is a bit much, isn't it King?"
"How am I going to convince you to keep me around otherwise?" Kageyama says, turning back to the stove.
Kei can't remember the last time he'd actually used his stove to make more than eggs. This is too much, it all smells like his childhood home and his mother bending over the stove to make extra portions of food for Akiteru.
"How was work?" Kageyama asks when they both sit down and start eating. He's shaved, sharp jawline something that Kei wants to reach over and touch, but his hair is still long enough that it flops over his eyes.
"You don't really want to hear that, do you?"
Kageyama scowls - a proper one, not just his customary resting bitch face. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't."
It's true though. Kageyama never says anything that he doesn't actually mean, even if it kills him to say it.
"It was... alright," Kei says. "Nothing special." It's true, nothing special did happen, and he didn't actually remember much of it because he was too busy panicking over the fact that he'd be coming back home to find Kageyama in his place. "How has it been, being back in Japan? In Sendai?"
Kageyama frowns again, and Kei wishes he knew enough to know why. Had there been someone else in Italy, he wonders, someone with tanned olive skin, someone who was smooth and sophisticated and didn't have dinosaur figurines lining their bedroom, and not at all like Kei.
"It's been good," Kageyama finally says. "I couldn't understand anything while I was there."
Kei snickers. He can't help it, it is such a Kageyama answer. "Did you learn any Italian?" Kei asks, and then snickers when Kageyama scowls again.
"Thank you for cooking. The food is delicious," Kei says, and pretends that it's not an apology.
Kageyama insists on doing the dishes. Kageyama crowds into Kei's space in the small kitchen until Kei finally admits defeat and moves away. Kageyama reaches out to brush the side of Kei's face with a soap covered hand - "You had rice there," he says simply, not seeming to notice the way Kei blushes thoroughly at the tiny contact. Kageyama still has the gall to to look surprised when Kei bends down to close the space between them and kisses him.
It turns out that Kageyama's entire life fits into a small, medium-sized suitcase.
"I hadn't unpacked when I got back from Italy," he shrugs as Kei stares at the small pile of clothes, looking even smaller next to the two volleyballs. It would all fit one drawer in Kei's cupboard, he thinks.
"You don't have a coat," he says, horrified, the first of many things he'd like to point out is wrong with Kageyama's clothes.
"I didn't need one in Italy," Kageyama says.
"You're going to need one here," Kei says. "How did you survive Tokyo? It's spring."
"I spent most of my time in the hospital," Kageyama says, as though it is alright for a person to live entirely out of sportswear and athleisure and not have a functioning coat and yes, Kei has a sizeable collection of sweatpants but that's not all he owns.
"Right," Kei says. "We're going shopping once I'm done with work tomorrow."
He expects Kageyama to protest, but he looks up to catch Kageyama smiling, the tiny real one Kei has only ever caught him giving when he gives when he thinks no one else is looking and not that monstrous grin he puts on for others when he thinks he has to, and his stomach does a flip.
"Come here," he tells Kageyama, because he wants to get a better look at that smile, and Kageyama obediently follows.
"What time do you have your lunch break?" Kageyama asks the next morning, digging insistent fingers into Kei's sides by the doorway just as Kei's about to leave the house. He can't stop kissing Kei's neck, but doesn't seem inclined to push for anything more, which is good, Kei insists on telling a very stupid part of his brain, because he would definitely be late for work if they attempted yet another round of sex.
"One," Kei says automatically, then blinks. "Why are you asking?"
Kageyama shrugs, and Kei wonders if he's going to show up at his workplace and ask that Kei take him to the cafeteria for lunch. Kei finds himself hoping that Kageyama will do that, and wonders if there's a parasite slowly worming itself into his brain and taking it over. The fact that he doesn't mind the thought of a parasite infecting his brain like this is only further proof of its existence, he thinks.
Kageyama does show up, but with two homemade bentos instead, and they have lunch sitting at the park outside the museum. It is a nice lunch. Kageyama is seemingly oblivious to all the attention he gets from the female staff when he walks Kei back to his office. Kei has to endure questions from his colleagues about the handsome stranger for the rest of the day, and it doesn't stop, especially when Kageyama shows up again the next day, and then the next, and the next.
Kei hates the attention, and his usual frosty silences don't do anything to deter his colleagues' interrogations, who have unfortunately known him since he was an intern and think his sulking is cute, but then, Kageyama's bentos are very good, far better than his usual cafeteria fare, and he does pack strawberry slices amongst the cut fruit, so Kei supposes it's worth it.
Shopping with Kageyama ends up harder than he'd thought.
For one, Kageyama is an absolute snob about his clothes. He eschews the department store Kei usually goes to and immediately heads for the flashy brands, the kind that don't have a visible logo on anywhere but probably sell T-shirts that cost half of Kei's monthly paycheck. Kei has been told before by more than one person that he has impeccable taste in clothing, and his collection of subtle moon and star motif clothing has only grown over the years, but Kageyama - he's going to kill Kageyama if he doesn't pick something.
"Now I know why you don't have a coat," he says as Kageyama shrugs on a navy double-breasted pea coat, squinting at his reflection in the mirror as though he's looking to catch it out on a lie. "You'd rather freeze your ass off in the Tokyo winter than wear something that doesn't please your ridiculously fastidious tastes."
"Shut up," Kageyama says, still glaring at his reflection. "I can't help that I have taste."
Kei feels the corner of his lip curl. "Of course," he says. "So do I." He bends low to whisper into Kageyama's ear, and feels a little twist of satisfaction that Kageyama makes out a little gasp that he's grown familiar with. "And I'm telling you that coat looks very good on you, so let's get home so I can take it off you."
He isn't lying though, even though he is impatient to get home. Kageyama, he thinks, would look good in anything that he wears.
Then he starts, and wonders when home included Kageyama as well.
It's a thought for another time, he thinks, watching Kageyama pay for the coat and he sticks his hands into the pockets of his own jacket.
Kei has always been too much.
He wants things and he wants to hold onto them tight with both hands. Life, however, does not let him do these this because life is a bitch.
Like his brother, he thinks, until volleyball took his brother from him. Then he got into volleyball too, since it meant spending more time with his brother and look how that turned out. If he can't moderate his feelings. he decided, he'd just pretend he doesn't have any.
It's not that he's an emotionally stunted Neanderthal that doesn't understand feelings. He does, he just doesn't want anything to do with them, since they're usually more trouble than they're worth.
Like the time after Spring High in their first year in high school, when Tadashi insisted on talking about his apparently obvious hostility towards Kageyama, and how that was apparently supposed to mean that he has some level of attraction toward the setter.
"Usually," Kei said. "When someone is apparently hostile to someone else, it means that they don't like the person."
"Uh huh," Tadashi says. "That's why you keep riling up Kageyama so he'd glare at you for a minute while he considers whether or not to punch you."
"The King needs to learn to relax," Kei says.
"Maybe he will when you stop being an ass to him."
"But my daily entertainment," Kei said dryly, and then rolled his eyes when Tadashi honest-to-God pouts at him.
"Okay," he said out loud. "So I have a crush on Kageyama. Now what do you expect me to do with this?"
"Well, you should tell him!" Tadashi's face was eager, and Kei tried to imagine the quiet boy who rarely offered his opinion on anything and wonders when they had changed.
"No thanks." He pulled his headphones out of his bag, signalling firmly that the conversation is over.
"But Tsukki - "
"So what if I have feelings?" he snapped. " It doesn't change anything. The King has eyes only for volleyball and his subject. I'm just left on the sidelines."
"Tsukki - "
"I'm going home," Kei said, pulling his headphones over his ears, walking ahead of Tadashi. He'd refused to turn to see if Tadashi had followed, didn't want to see whatever pitying look on Tadashi's face.
"Don't make dinner tonight," Kei says as he heads out the door one Friday morning. "I'm going to my parents."
"Oh," Kageyama says, and proceeds to pick at his food quietly. It takes Kei a moment to remember that Kageyama's mother is still working in the States or something and has yet to return to Japan.
They've settled into a steady routine in the last week, Kageyama fitting into Kei's life so neatly it is almost alarming. He cooks breakfast, turns up at Kei's workplace at lunch with a homemade bento, and then has dinner waiting on the table when Kei gets home. They run laps around the neighbourhood together at night, Kei making it a point to not go too hard in case it overstrains Kageyama's knee, end up in the shower together and inevitably end up having sex at least three times before falling asleep. They squabble sometimes over who gets to pick a movie to watch, and it's a fifty-fifty chance that they get distracted instead of actually watching a movie.
Kei is doing his best to not to get too attached.
"Do you... do you want to come with me?" he asks.
It's just not working very well.
Kageyama perks up ever so slightly. "Yes," he says simply. Kei ignores the stupid warm feeling he gets sometimes, when he realises he's made Kageyama happy outside of sex. It's happened before, when he'd made sure to stock up on Kageyama's favourite brand of milk and yoghurt when they were running low, or when he'd patched up a small hole that had appeared on Kageyama's favourite hoodie.
"I'll text you the address," he says, and then leaves the house before he can do anything stupid, like kiss Kageyama on the forehead.
Kageyama shows up at his parents house with flowers, because of course he does.
"Thank you for having me," he says formally, bowing at the perfect height.
"Oh Tobio-kun, you shouldn't have!" his mother bubbles as she takes the offered bouquet. "Come in, come in! It's been years since we've had you over!"
"Thank goodness for that," Kei says dryly, remembering the panicked late night study sessions they used to have, where he, Tadashi, and Yachi would attempt to coax Hinata's and Kageyama's grades to an acceptable standard. "I think I aged five years every time exam season rolled round. "
Kei's mother offers Kageyama milk as he steps in, and Kageyama seems stunned that she still remembers his favourite drink. Kei had told them not to ask Kageyama too much about volleyball, afraid to bring up memories that would upset Kageyama. But now, the former-athlete volunteers information on his time with the Adlers, and the Olympics team, and even his year-long stint in Italy easily, and Kei learns more about Kageyama over dinner than he has had in the last week since he'd moved into his house. Kageyama, it seems, can be talkative, if there are enough people like his mother and brother around to draw him out to ask questions. Maybe, Kei thinks, this is why Kageyama had hung around Hinata so much.
There's a twinge of jealousy at the thought, which he brushes aside. Hinata is in Osaka after all, and Kageyama is here, with him, and sitting in his family's sitting room and almost-laughing at his father's terrible jokes. Kageyama will be going home with him. There isn't anything to be jealous about.
"So," Akiteru says as the two of them wash and dry the dishes. "You and Kageyama?"
Kei does not groan aloud, but it is a close thing. "I'm going to pretend," Kei says. "That you did not say that. Because we are not having a conversation about my sex life."
Akiteru raises his hands in front of him as though to defend himself from his little brother's depravity."I did not say anything about your sex life," he says. "I was going to ask if you two were dating and how that was going but I really really wasn't going to ask anymore than that - "
"Good," Kei says.
"You haven't brought anyone back since Kuroo," Akiteru says, trying and failing to sound casual.
"Well," Kei says. "I haven't had anyone to bring back since Kuroo." There's an awkward silence, one that Kei has grown used to that over the years.
"I'm glad," Akiteru finally says when he stacks the last dish. "That you're opening your heart again."
Kei huffs a breath and resists the urge to flick soapy water at his brother. "You need to stop talking about things you don't know about."
The thing is, Kei should have learnt by now that he's just not cut out for things like relationships. Even purely sexual ones, like the one he has going on with Kageyama, because he is incapable of keeping things light. And he should also have learnt by now not to start anything with any of the people he's met in volleyball because it affects all sorts of friendships and it is especially stressful when most of his friends are from his volleyball circles so it will all go to hell when it inevitably blows up in his face.
Like the time he'd had a crush on Kuroo after that series of training camps in his first year, and then learnt that Kuroo had a brain and good taste in science-fiction and on the court, he really was always thinking things through. But, he'd thought after the end of the training camps, and then after Nationals, that he wouldn't be seeing Kuroo anymore. They didn't have each other's numbers even, because why would Kuroo even bother with a half-assed first year from his rival school?
And then he'd somehow ended up in the same university as Kuroo, and somehow walked into the coffee shop on campus where Kuroo worked part-time, and just somehow ended up being the person to take his order, and after the two of them expressed mutual surprise at seeing each other. Kuroo had left his number on Kei's receipt and Kei, for some reason, texted back. And even though neither of them played volleyball anymore, they still hung around campus, and Akaashi came along sometimes because he was studying Literature on the same campus, and Bokuto when he came over to Tokyo to visit, and fairly soon, his friendship circle was full of Kuroo's friends and he and Kuroo were still caught each other for quick bites between classes, and sometimes he took his homework to the cafe when Kuroo was on shift and Kuroo would sneakily hand him free cups of coffee and at some point, Kuroo walked him back to his dorm room and kissed him.
"I love you," he'd said to Kuroo, three months after they'd started dating, and a month after they'd started having sex. They were in Kuroo's dorm room at the time, lying in the sweaty afterglow of their orgasms, and Kei had wanted to say it for a while. It was just before the semester ended for the summer, and Kei had been by Kuroo’s place a couple of times and met his grandparents, and Kuroo had even joined Kei once to Sendai, and Kei wanted nothing more than to keep this up but he figured telling Kuroo that he loved him was a good place to start.
"Oh," Kuroo had said, just a beat too late.
Kei had been so mortified by that that he'd proceeded to pull his clothes on, shrug off Kuroo's protests for him to not leave, and then march back to his room. He ended up transferring to Sendai University and finishing his degree there. He hasn't stepped foot in Tokyo since. Kuroo's number remains blocked on his phone.
So Kei is bad with feelings, and with people, and with rejection. He's at least honest about this.
He’s gone on dates since, and he’s had hookups with people, always without strings attached. He leaves before any can form.
You have expectations of people. Then they don't meet it, and you slot them somewhere where they better fit in their life. Read, react, adjust. Kei is good at doing this, he thinks, practiced.
He had liked Kuroo, and thought that Kuroo had liked him back. The latter had turned out to be untrue, so he adjusted his life to fit. Maybe he was a little - just a little - melodramatic with the way he'd reacted. But he'd known that his feelings wouldn't have gone away if he had stayed in Tokyo, so the logical thing to do, really, was to leave.
So perhaps some people would think that he was a coward for running. He's fine with that.
But, he realises as he and Kageyama climb into bed that night - there hadn't even been sex in the shower just Kageyama lavishing him with slow tender kisses and washed the suds off Kei's hair. It only when he's drifting to sleep with Kageyama snoring and drooling slightly on his chest, and he hadn't made an attempt to shove him off, that he realises.
He's in love with Kageyama, isn't he.
Fuck.
"How do you know when you like someone?" Kei asks Tadashi, who promptly falls off his chair choking on his spit.
He supposes he deserves it.
"Oh god," Tadashi wheezes as he climbs back up his seat, ignoring the cafe patrons staring at them both, wiping actual tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry. But are we finally talking about Kageyama now?"
"Yes," Kei says through gritted teeth. "Are you done laughing?"
"Mostly," Tadashi says. "I suppose it'd depend on what you say next."
Kei sighs. "You're probably going to laugh then."
"Probably," Tadashi agrees, stirring his coffee. His hands are still shaking. "Well?"
So Kei tells him about Kageyama and how he's ruining Kei's life with his beautifully cooked, healthy meals. How his colleagues took two weeks, but they've finally realised who Kageyama is and keep hounding him for autographs now and Kageyama gives it, bemused, and then Kei has to extract him from them. And how they've grown into comfortable silences most of the time, but Kei likes it when they snuggle close on the couch, which is honestly far too small to accommodate the both of them so they're pressed up against each other, and how he knows Kageyama was sad that Kei's mother seems to remember him better than his own mother and how he's angry for Kageyama about that, and how Kageyama's actually able to talk to kids now because he actually had to learn to communicate properly when he was in Italy and working with people who weren't Hinata, and he now has a little army of children at the park near Kei's workplace who all want to be professional volleyball players when they grow up and he's actually started teaching classes at the community center near their place and why did Kageyama have to be such a volleyball savant and he was so intense when he taught and and -
"Oh god," Tadashi says. "You really do like him."
Kei buries his face in his hands.
"Are you going to sulk and leave me here if I tell you that you should tell him that?"
Kei blinks and looks up. "I was fifteen."
"Yes, but you were also nineteen when you transferred back here from Tokyo because you were afraid of your feelings for Kuroo."
"Just because I couldn't face him after - "
"Do you still have him blocked by the way?"
"Yes. Obviously."
Tadashi rolls his eyes. "See?"
"When did I become the lame one between us?"
"Usually when you're in complete denial of your feelings and refuse to own up to them."
"I'm not in denial," Kei says, knowing he's missing the point, but feels the need to emphasise it anyway. "I know I like Kageyama. Just like I knew I liked Kuroo, and then I told him, and then it went to hell after that. My feelings aren't the problem. It's when I talk about them and it... it changes what I have with people."
"Oh Tsukki," Tadashi says. "Things change all the time. We can only... I don't know. Float by as it happens. And be as honest as we can to the people we love and hope for the best."
"You mean like when you give me honest advice and I snap at you?"
"At least you're self-aware enough to know that you were snapping."
"I've always known that I was being mean."
"Of course." Tadashi grins and reaches over to steal a bit of Kei's cake, something that would have been unthinkable ten years ago, but Kei just lets him, because clearly, he's gone soft with old age. And because, it seems, being in love also makes one go soft. A part of him knows it’s unreasonable to blame Kageyama, but he prefers to do it anyway.
Kei comes home to find Kageyama yelling on the phone.
"Why are you so stupid, Bakeyama!" he can hear from the phone's speakers when Kageyama takes a pause to cuss back.
Ah. Of course, Kageyama is still talking to Hinata. It makes sense, he thinks, they are best friends after all.
There is silence, as Kageyama finally shuts up and processes whatever it is Hinata is saying rapidly on over the phone, too soft for Kei to make out. Then a sullen "Fine. You're right. I'll talk to him soon."
Kei has no doubt who him and decides he doesn't want to hear anymore.
He ducks out the house again, shutting the door quietly.
Of course, things would have to end. This is the nature of all relationships, he thinks, and he should have seen it coming from a mile away.
He heads to the same park bench where he'd met Kageyama weeks ago, and then unblocks Kuroo's number.
Is Kuroo Tetsurou still using this number? It's stupid, he knows, but he sends it anyway.
It's been years, he thinks. Kuroo has every right to not want to speak to him.
His phone buzzes.
To what do I owe the honour, Tsukishima?
He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings once, twice, and just as he's about to lose his nerve and end the call, it connects.
"Tsukishima." Kuroo's voice is just as he remembered. He doesn't sound angry, for some reason, which astonishes Kei. "Aren't you full of surprises today."
"I'm sorry," Kei blurts out, digging his fingers into the meat of his arms. "I'm so, so sorry."
There's a sigh over the phone. "I'm actually in Sendai at the moment," Kuroo says. "Would you like to meet to talk?"
No, Kei wants to say. It has already taken him everything to even unblock Kuroo. He's not sure he can actually face him.
But then, he owes at least this. It's the least he can do.
Kei sighs, and wonders if this means he’s actually growing up, if he will do the right thing, instead of the easier thing. He hates it.
"Sure," he says.
Kei heads to the station that Kuroo tells him to go to and spots Kuroo waiting amongst the evening crowd even though he's five minutes early. Kuroo looks entirely grown up in a suit, even if his hair is still the same ridiculous bedhead. He, for some reason, doesn't look angry to see Kei.
"Hey," Kuroo says, hands shoved in his pockets, ruining the perfect lines of his tailored suit, the picture of insouciant grace.
"Hi," Kei says, voice tight in his throat.
"You look like you're about to cry," Kuroo says, even though Kei is sure his expression hasn't changed at all, and he hates that Kuroo can still read him so easily when he doesn't know what is going on behind Kuroo's impassive face. "You alright?"
"No," Kei says honestly.
"My hotel's nearby. Do you want to go up and rest for a bit?"
This is a bad idea, Kei thinks. It's almost like a scene from a bad drama, calling up an ex just because he's upset with the boy he's currently - well, they're not dating, but there's something, right? It's not just sex, not when Kageyama has met his parents and comes by his workplace with lunch - but he really can't figure out why it would be now, when Kuroo is looking at him with so much kindness. How does he not hate him, he wonders?
"Sure," he says.
Kuroo is staying at the Westin, and Kei doesn't know much about business-class hotels, but he is fairly sure that the sizeable room they're staying in isn't the cheapest possible room available at the hotel, which makes him wonder what the heck is Kuroo is doing these days because he sure as hell isn't in academia like he'd previously planned to be when he was studying biochemistry in college. Maybe he's joined the yakuza and is making drugs.
"Water, coffee, tea?" Kuroo asks while Kei looks around.
"Water please," Kei says, licking his lips. Kuroo gestures at the large couch at the corner of the room and Kei sits himself down, wondering what he's doing here.
"How are you, Tsukishima?" Kuroo asks, handing Kei a bottle of complimentary water from the enormous hotel fridge, sounding so warm and kind that Kei now feels like actually bursting into tears.
He doesn't though. He has at least, still more control than that.
"Like I said over the phone," Kei says, licking his lips, wrapping his already-chilled fingers around the bottle. "I'm really sorry for running away that time."
"I mean," Kuroo says. "It's a little funny, when I think about how my ex-boyfriend had a panic attack so bad that he had to transfer schools and move back to Sendai just to avoid me."
I'm sorry, Kei is about to say again automatically, but Kuroo is waving a hand airily, as though the harshness of those words were a joke.
"You're not the only one who needs to apologise," Kuroo says. "I'm sorry, too. I should have been more honest with my feelings as well."
"I didn't exactly give you the chance to," Kei mumbles.
"Well, no," Kuroo says. "But I should have stopped you from walking out of my room when I knew we needed to talk."
Kei puts the bottle on the table and picks at the fabric of his shirt. "I did mean it," he says softly. "Back then. It's not really a consolation, but I did."
"Oh, Tsukki. I know."
"Then why - " He sucks in a breath, tries to right himself. "Did you not like me back?"
"I did," Kuroo says. "I was just too much of a coward to say anything then.”
And, strangely, Kei understands exactly what he means. It's why he's here, hiding from Kageyama.
It should sting, he thinks. That Kuroo is here, but he hadn’t chased him back then, hadn’t tried to knock on his door in Sendai. But it doesn't. Maybe this means that he's really, truly moved beyond Kuroo.
"What are you in Sendai for anyway?"
"Work," Kuroo says. "Well, that, and to visit my boyfriend."
“Oh,” Kei says. “That – that’s nice.”
"Yeah, Daichi and I have been dating for a couple of years now." Kuroo's smiling crookedly, the smile that Kei used to love, but there is no twinge of pain seeing it now. Just confusion.
"Daichi?"
"Yes, your old captain," Kuroo says, still smiling, only it's a lot closer to a smirk now.
"How did I not know this?" Kei asks aloud.
"You should get in touch with your senpais more often, Tsukki," Kuroo says with a wink. "How are you and Kageyama doing?"
"How," Kei asks. "Does everyone know about Kageyama?"
Kuroo shrugs. "You really don't check your Karasuno chat groups, do you?"
Kei tries to remember if he's even in them, and thinks he might have just muted them all once he'd been added.
"Well," Kuroo says, smirking. "Kageyama told Hinata, who then told everyone, and I've heard about this from Kenma and Daichi and - "
"Right," Kei says, feeling the flush spread from his face all the way to his toes. "So everyone knows."
"Nothing to be ashamed of," Kuroo says. "Haven't you had a thing for him since high school?"
"No," Kei says. "Why do people keep thinking that?"
Kuroo doesn't say anything, just smirks, and that is somehow even more annoying.
"I would bet that that's Kageyama," he says when Kei's phone rings. "You should head home, Tsukki."
"I'm not a kid," Kei says, even though he feels like sticking out his tongue.
"I'm still your senior - "
"By two measly years."
"And am therefore wiser," Kuroo says, ignoring him. "You should be honest with Kageyama."
Kei makes a noise. He is so tired of everyone telling him that.
"We're... we're friends, right?" Kei asks hesitantly.
"As long as you keep my number unblocked," Kuroo says.
"Thank you," Kei says. He supposes, in his situation, a hug would be appropriate, but he's never been one for hugs. Somehow, he thinks Kuroo remembers that.
"I like you," Kei says, feeling like his heart is about to explode in his chest.
Kageyama just turns to him and tilts his head ever so slightly, as though Kei hasn't just dropped a life-changing confession right at his lap.
"Well, yes, I would hope so," Kageyama says turning back to the dishes, sounding almost dry. "Given that we've been dating for three months now."
Kei is glad that Kageyama has turned away because he can feel his mouth drop wider than he would have previously thought possible.
"Kageyama," Kei says, feeling as though he's missed a crucial part of the plot somewhere. "Are we dating?'
Kageyama frowns. "Yes?"
"Oh," Kei says. "When did we start dating?"
Kageyama turns around, and Kei realises that his face is flushed. He's blushing, he realises, and he wonders how many times Kageyama had left the room, or turned to face the sink and Kei had thought he hadn't cared but it was always to hide the fact that he sometimes turned as red as a beetroot.
"When I moved in," Kageyama says slowly. "After that first night, when we - "
"Ah." Kei says, trying to remember if they had a conversation about the change in their relationship status that he'd missed. He had been drunk, and a lot had happened that night, but he thinks that would have been a conversation he'd remembered. "But I thought - you and Hinata -"
Kageyama looks even more thoroughly confused than he'd had when Kei had tried to explain the theory of evolution to him.
"I heard you," Kei finally says, sullen. "Just now, when you called Hinata."
"Hinata calls me at least once a week," Kageyama says, blinking.
"Didn't you - "
"I told you, Hinata and I never dated."
"That - that doesn't mean you don't want to right?"
"No," Kageyama says, affronted. "I have never wanted to date Hinata and do... all the things we've been doing. And Hinata's dating Miya Atsumu."
Oh. Oh. He remembers Miya Atsumu alright.
He'll process that part later.
“I moved back to Japan,” Kageyama says. “And Hinata came to visit me in the hospital, with Atsumu and Bokuto and I was telling them that I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, now that I didn’t have volleyball. Hinata told me I was stupid, and told me to go back to Sendai and find you.” He blinks and looks at Kei. “Bokuto also told me to tell you you were almost as big a moron as Kuroo. Do you know what that’s about?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Kei says, throat dry. “Hinata told you to find me?”
“Yes,” Kageyama says. “Because – that was one of my biggest regrets. Not telling you I liked you, back when we were still in high school.”
“You liked me in high school?” He almost doesn’t understand his voice, not when it’s as shrill as that.
“Not at first,” Kageyama says, rolling his eyes. “You were an ass at first. But in second and third year. When you weren’t afraid to laugh anymore or show us you when you were excited about things.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Kageyama says. “But then we graduated, and I had my career to think about, and you were going to college and we weren’t going to see each other all the time anyway, so I just thought that it wasn’t a thing. I didn't - I didn't have time for anyone before.” Kageyama fiddles with the ties of his hoodie. "It's like you said. Volleyball obsessed savant. And now - now I had time to think about what I felt, and I realised that I liked you. And Hintata was the one who told me to come to Sendai to look for you. That's why I was outside the park, that day we met."
"Are you telling me," Kei says slowly, filled with so many questions, like Hinata told you to come to my workplace? and Why does Hinata even know where I work? and Did you ask everyone in the Karasuno group chat for advice but what comes out is"That before we had sex, you were a virgin?"
Kageyama flushes, all blotchy and ugly and Kei wants to kiss him. "Yes."
"I - " He had been too experienced, Kei thinks. He has to be lying. But then, Kageyama is a lot of things, but never a liar.
"I did my research, before I came over," Kageyama mumbles. "Did you... did you not like it?"
Oh god. "Yes," Kei says. "I did. And um. All the times after."
Kageyama's shoulders lift slightly, as though he's relieved, that Kei has liked their sex life, as though he hasn't been enthusiastically responding in -
Maybe he needs to be a little more explicit in his appreciation. Right. Communication.
"So," Kei says. "People keep telling me that I need to be more honest with you."
Kageyama squints. "People keep telling me the same thing, but I thought we've been clear."
"Did you now?" Kei asks, feeling his mouth lift in amusement.
"Yes," Kageyama says, then reaches for Kei's hand. "You asked me out to dinner, and over to your place, and we kissed, and had sex, and I've met your family. I think it's pretty clear."
"Enlighten me, O wise king," Kei says. "What is clear?"
Kageyama frowns, as though he expects Kei to be smarter than this.
"That we're dating," he says. "And that you really like me. Even though you had to ask if we were dating just now, which is making me reconsider whether or not we were that clear.”
"Oh," Kei says. "Is it?"
"Yes," Kageyama says. "As though you would have let me stay around this long if you didn't."
"Right," Kei says. "And do you like me, king?"
Kageyama looks outright insulted now. "Obviously," he says. "Would I be doing all this cooking if I didn't?"
"Right," Kei says again. "So what was that conversation with Hinata about just now? It sounded heated."
Kageyama flushes and looks away. "He said that I needed to tell you properly. To make things clear."
"Tell me what?"
Kageyama mumbles something under his breath.
"I can't understand anything you're saying," Kei says.
"That I love you," Kageyama spits out. It's the least romantic thing Kei has ever heard, more curse than confession, and Kei knows it's more real because of that. "There."
"Oh," he says. "Well, good. Because I love you too." And the words, which had stuck themselves to the sides of his throat in the last few weeks, come tumbling out like caged birds fluttering free.
"Oh," Kageyama says, eyes going very wide.
"King," Kei teases. "I do believe you're embarrassed."
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Kageyama crosses the space between them. Kei lets himself be pulled down.