Chapter 2 - The Way You Look At Me
1759 Words
Yamaguchi hadn’t expected Tsukishima to walk him all the way home.
It was a quiet walk. Not awkward this time—just quiet. Comfortable. The kind of silence that only exists between people who know each other too well.
When they reached his gate, Yamaguchi hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his scarf.
“You wanna come in?”
Tsukishima blinked. “It’s late.”
“So?” Yamaguchi tried to sound casual, but his voice was a little too hopeful.
Tsukki looked away for a second. “I don’t want your mom thinking we’re—”
“She’s out.”
Silence.
Yamaguchi regretted it immediately. “I mean, I wasn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t have to—”
Tsukishima walked past him and opened the gate.
“…You coming, or what?”
Inside the house
They sat on the floor of Yamaguchi’s room with snacks and a blanket draped over both their shoulders. A movie played on his laptop, but neither of them really paid attention.
Tsukki was scrolling through his phone. Yamaguchi was stealing glances at him when he thought he wouldn’t notice.
But he always noticed.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Tsukishima said.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to memorize my face.”
Yamaguchi bit his lip. “Maybe I am.”
Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Can’t help it. I’m friends with a main character.”
“I’m not—” Kei started, but paused when he caught Yamaguchi’s teasing smile.
He didn’t argue after that.
After the movie ended, Tsukishima stretched out on the floor. Yamaguchi stayed sitting, back leaned against the bedframe.
“Hey, Tsukki,” he said softly.
“Hm?”
“Do you ever think about what it’d be like if we went to different universities?”
Tsukishima turned his head to look at him.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t even apply to the others after you told me your top choice.”
Yamaguchi’s eyes widened. “You didn’t—? Wait, seriously?”
Kei stared at the ceiling. “You were already going to leave me behind. I wasn’t about to help you do it.”
Yamaguchi’s chest tightened. “I wasn’t planning to leave you.”
“You didn’t have to. You were already becoming someone who didn’t need me.”
“That’s not true.”
“I know that now,” Tsukki said quietly. “But back then... it scared me.”
They both fell silent.
Then Yamaguchi whispered, “I’m scared too, sometimes.”
“Of what?”
“That you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m just the friend who tagged along too long.”
Tsukki turned his head again, meeting his gaze.
“You’re not tagging along.”
Yamaguchi smiled weakly. “You’re terrible at comfort, you know that?”
“Yeah.”
And yet, somehow… that was enough.
It was 2AM when Tsukishima fell asleep on the floor, one arm slung lazily over the pillow.
Yamaguchi stayed awake a little longer.
He watched the slow rise and fall of Kei’s chest, the way his glasses had slipped off slightly, the crease between his brows even in sleep.
He thought about brushing the hair away from Tsukki’s face.
He didn’t.
Instead, he whispered to the dark:
“Please don’t leave first.”
Next morning
Yamaguchi woke up to the smell of toast.
He stumbled into the kitchen, half-asleep, and blinked at the sight of Tsukishima standing awkwardly in front of the toaster, wearing Yamaguchi’s hoodie like it was no big deal.
“You’re up.”
“Are you cooking?”
“No. Your toaster is.”
Yamaguchi laughed, rubbing his eyes. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.”
Kei shrugged. “Didn’t feel like going home yet.”
That made something flutter in Yamaguchi’s chest.
He sat at the table, watching Tsukki fumble with a jar of jam.
“You suck at mornings.”
“I suck at a lot of things.”
“Not at this.”
Tsukki raised an eyebrow. “At making toast?”
“At being with me.”
The jam knife clinked against the plate.
For a moment, Kei didn’t say anything. Then he sat across from Yamaguchi and looked him in the eyes.
“I’m trying,” he said.
“I know.”
And for now, that was more than enough.
-Next day-
The first thing Yamaguchi noticed—aside from the fact that he’d overslept by twenty minutes—was that his hoodie was missing.
Well, not missing. Just not where he left it. Because it was currently being worn by a very sleepy-looking Tsukishima Kei, who was seated in the kitchen, holding a mug of hot water and staring at Yamaguchi’s cat like it had said something offensive.
“You’re still here?” Yamaguchi asked, trying to comb down his bedhead with his fingers.
Tsukishima didn’t even look up. “Your cat attacked me.”
“She just headbutts when she wants food.”
“She’s violent.”
Yamaguchi snorted and padded into the kitchen, plucking the mug out of Tsukki’s hands to take a sip himself. Tsukishima didn’t protest.
There was something warm about the scene. Not just the mug. But the way Tsukki sat like he belonged there, like he had every right to take up space in Yamaguchi’s quiet little world.
For a moment, Yamaguchi allowed himself to imagine a future where this was normal.
Where Kei would show up unannounced, steal his hoodies, fight with his cat, and stay for breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe, someday, it could be.
But not yet.
So instead, Yamaguchi handed him back the mug and said, “Want toast?”
Tsukishima hummed. “Only if you don’t burn it like last time.”
“That was one time.”
“And it was tragic.”
Yamaguchi rolled his eyes, but his heart was full.
Later that afternoon, they ended up in the park near campus. Not for any real reason—Tsukishima said he needed fresh air, and Yamaguchi wanted to walk off the nerves he couldn’t name.
They found a bench near the pond, both sipping cold drinks from the nearby vending machine.
Tsukishima was reading something on his phone. Yamaguchi watched the ducks.
It was calm. Uneventful. And yet… kind of perfect.
“Do you think people notice?” Yamaguchi asked suddenly.
Tsukki glanced up. “Notice what?”
“This.” He gestured vaguely between them. “Us. How we are.”
Kei took a slow sip of his drink before answering. “Do you want them to?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
Tsukishima leaned back, arms stretched along the bench behind them. His fingers were close enough that they brushed against Yamaguchi’s shoulder.
“I think they notice,” he said, not looking at him. “But I don’t care if they do.”
Yamaguchi turned to him. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not about them.” His gaze finally landed on Yamaguchi. “It’s about you.”
Those words settled deep into Yamaguchi’s chest, warm and heavy.
He looked away before Tsukishima could see him smile.
Their next few days fell into a rhythm.
School. Practice. Occasional late-night walks. Quiet moments where they didn’t talk but said a thousand things with just a glance.
Yamaguchi started bringing extra snacks to share after training. Tsukishima started waiting for him again at the gym doors instead of walking out with Koganegawa.
No one said anything, but the shift was obvious. Even Kageyama gave them a second glance once or twice.
Once, when they were both cleaning up the court after practice, Shoyo bounced over and nudged Yamaguchi with a grin.
“You and Tsukki seem close again.”
Yamaguchi shrugged, trying not to smile too hard. “We were never not close.”
Shoyo tilted his head. “That’s not what it looked like last month.”
Yamaguchi stiffened. “People talk about us?”
“Not in a bad way,” Shoyo said quickly. “Just—y’know. People notice things.”
Yamaguchi felt his ears burn.
Before he could say anything, Tsukishima walked over with a towel slung around his neck and gave Shoyo a mildly annoyed look. “We leaving or what?”
Yamaguchi nodded. “Yeah. Coming.”
Hinata raised an eyebrow but didn’t say more.
As they walked off together, shoulder to shoulder, Yamaguchi noticed Tsukki hadn’t looked at Shoyo once.
That night, they ended up at a rooftop above the dorm building. It was breezy, but not too cold. Yamaguchi had brought a blanket. Tsukishima brought nothing but his presence.
They sat with legs stretched out, the city lights flickering like a sea of stars beneath them.
“You used to hate heights,” Yamaguchi said softly.
“I still don’t love them,” Tsukki replied. “But I don’t hate them when you’re here.”
That made Yamaguchi laugh—quiet and surprised.
“What?”
“You say the most unexpected things now.”
“I’ve always said things.”
“Yeah, like ‘shut up’ or ‘don’t be dumb’.”
“I still say those.”
“But you also say stuff like that,” Yamaguchi gestured toward him, “and it makes my heart all weird.”
Tsukki didn’t reply right away.
Then, “Is that a bad thing?”
“No.”
They sat in the silence again.
Yamaguchi leaned his head against Tsukishima’s shoulder. Not a question. Not a test. Just a need.
And Tsukki let him.
No tensing up. No sarcastic comments. Just… stillness.
After a while, Yamaguchi whispered, “Do you ever think about us?”
Tsukishima’s breath hitched.
“…What do you mean?”
“Like… beyond this.”
Tsukki didn’t answer.
And maybe that was answer enough.
But before Yamaguchi could pull away, Tsukishima reached out—slow, hesitant—and took his hand.
It was cold. Awkward. Their fingers didn’t fit perfectly.
But they stayed like that anyway
The next morning, when they arrived at school together, everyone noticed.
Not just because they were talking more. Or walking closer. But because something about them had changed.
A comfort that hadn’t been there before. A gravity that drew them together naturally.
It wasn’t loud or dramatic.
It was just there.
Unmistakable.
And Yamaguchi, for once, didn’t care who saw it.
- Writer
