#haikyuu fandom

Before you could open your mouth to retort, the phone rang in your hand.

"Oh my god." You blinked back at the name flashing across your screen. "I summoned her."

"Kum ba yah my Lord, kum ba yah..."

You rolled your eyes at Kuroo before pushing yourself out of your office chair and stepping out into the hallway.

"Hello?"

"Y/N, hello!" Miss Yuki chirped over the line. "So sorry to bother you during work hours. I understand this is a busy time for the JVA."

"It's no problem. I was just finishing my lunch," you reassured her. "Everything okay?"

"Yes! Well, almost," your daughter's teacher admitted with a taut laugh. "I just wanted to let you know that I gave Misa an allergen-free granola bar after lunch today. Apparently, one of her classmates ate the food you packed for her. Sweet girl hadn't eaten a thing."

"Wait, what?" Your stomach dropped upon hearing those words. "I — is she okay? Does she need me to bring her another lunch?"

"If you can?" Miss Yuki sounded like she was wincing. "She's in art right now, but her stomach sounds like a beluga whale. I also phoned the classmate's father to inform him of the situation, but I do think it's best you both come in so we can speak with the girls directly about what happened."

"I — yes, of course. Let me move some things around, but I can be there in thirty. Does that work?"

"Perfect! I'll let the father know."

Kuroo had already returned to his laptop by the time you shut the door to the conference room, face leaden with disbelief.

"Someone ate my baby's lunch!"

"No," Kuroo gasped. You nodded. "Who?"

"I don't know! Some sticky five-year-old who was probably never taught manners." You collapsed into the chair across from him and sighed. "That's what I get for raising Misa to be kind and considerate. Did I tell you she cried after stepping on a bee yesterday? It was already dead!"

Kuroo chuckled from behind his laptop and said, "If you want, I can get her a discounted membership to my Brazilian jiu-jitsu gym."

You blinked. "You go to Brazilian jiu-jitsu? Since when?"

His amused expression faltered.

"Since I turned thirty and realized I had no physical skills beyond receiving volleyballs."

A sudden laugh escaped your lips as you imagined Kuroo performing a forearm pass to his home invader.

"Well," you huffed. "From here on out, you'll be the first one I call if I have a personal score to settle with anyone."

"Parents of sticky five-year-olds, maybe."

"Right," you breathed, massaging the inner corners of your eyes. "I need to head over to the school to sort things out. Can you cover for me at this afternoon's all-hands meeting?"

"Sure thing."

"Thank you. I owe you one," you told him, snapping your salad closed and tossing it into your work bag. "I swear, I'm going to rip this kid's dad a new one."

"I expect nothing less," Kuroo drawled with a smirk. Half earnest. Half teasing. "Go get 'em, mama!"

You rolled your eyes at him a second time before heading out.

You stormed up the cobblestone path to your daughter's classroom half an hour later, katsu sandwich in one hand. Carton of banana milk in the other. The visitor's sticker they'd given you at the front office barely hid the fresh coffee stain on your blouse, and you were pissed.

How dare some spoiled rich kid steal from your baby girl? More importantly, what kind of father would raise such a child?

You understood that Kimori parents were a different breed — what with their luxury electric cars, vacation homes, and prestigious board member positions. You also understood that sending Misa here on a scholarship would cause you to face everything you didn't have. Money. A rich husband. Any husband, for that matter.

The thought made your face burn as you opened the door to Miss Yuki's quiet classroom and stepped inside.

"Y/N!" The teacher perked up from her desk with a relieved smile. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope the traffic wasn't too bad."

"Eh, nothing a bit of lane-hopping couldn't fix," you told her honestly, pulling the door closed behind you.

That's when you saw him. Broad shoulders filling out a black t-shirt. Tufts of dark hair sticking out beneath his cap — Onigiri Miya, it read. He looked as comfortable as a grown man would be sitting in a plastic chair made for toddlers, and he was young. Almost as young as you were, if you had to guess.

This was the middle-aged finance CEO you'd been imagining all afternoon?

"This is Kinami's father, Miya Osamu," Miss Yuki supplied, voice bright enough to dispel the tension. "Osamu, this is Misa's mother, Y/N."

You hated the way your breath hitched as he stood from the tiny activity table and offered you his hand.

"Pleased to meet ya," he said, a kind, if not mildly embarrassed smile on his face. "Sorry we had to meet like this. Kina's a bit of a troublemaker, ain't she?"

The tips of your ears turned bright red as you shoved the banana milk into the crook of your arm and shook his hand.

"For what it's worth," you said, voice gentler than you'd anticipated. Eyes drinking in his handsome face and perfectly placed set of dimples. "Misa's a bit of a softie."

You swore something like relief flashed across his grey eyes.

The girls joined you from art class not a moment later — Misa's pigtails halfway undone, Kina's polo littered with sauce stains. Both girls wore guilty expressions as they joined you around the classroom table like two suspects in an ongoing investigation.

"Are we in trouble, Miss Yuki?" Kina asked. Voice tiny. Eyes on the verge of tears.

"No, sweetheart. We just want to understand what happened earlier this afternoon,” their teacher said, easing into her yoga ball at the head of the activity table. "Why don't we start with you, Misa?"

Your daughter's spine straightened like a cat's tail, frightened and alert.

"It's okay." You rubbed her back with a gentle smile. "You can be honest."

She wrung her tiny hands in her lap and decided to be brave.

"W-Well..." she stammered, furrowing her brow in thought. "Kina was having a bad day because she broke her purple crayon during free draw time."

"Valid," you said with a casual shrug.

"So I wanted to do something nice for her and give her my lunch. Like you do sometimes, mama."

Your heart twinged at the candor in her eyes. The quiet want to do something good.

Miss Yuki folded her hands atop the table and nodded like a sage therapist.

"And you, Kina? Is that how you remember it?"

The child in question nodded, unruly hair falling into her eyes.

"Misa told me she wasn't hungry, a-and that her mama gives away food all the time," she said. "I didn't think her tummy would sound like a...a begoola whale. I'm sorry."

Your daughter looked mortified as you stifled your laugh behind a fist. Osamu, on the other hand, bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

"Kina, sweetheart," he began, though his voice shook with laughter. He cleared his throat to compose himself. "Ya can't be eatin' other people's food like that. It ain't nice."

"But Uncle Tsum Tsum does it all the time!"

"That's because Uncle Tsum Tsum has no manners," he retorted, Kansai drawl stretching over his every syllable. "If yer still hungry after lunch, all ya have to do is let me know. I can always make ya more food."

"...okay," Kina mumbled after a while. "More hotdogtopus?"

A small noise escaped the back of her throat as Osamu rustled her hair with an easy chuckle. "Sure thing, kiddo."

"And Misa?” You tucked a strand of loose hair behind your daughter’s ear and bent down to meet her gaze. "It was very kind of you to offer Kina your lunch today. But you need to eat, too. You won't be able to learn on an empty stomach."

Misa pursed her lips to one side, eyes filled with worry.

"Even if you do it, too, mama?"

Her words were enough to make your chest ache in equal parts affection and embarrassment.

"Even if I do it, too," you said, nodding. “It isn’t good to skip meals. And I’m sorry that I haven’t been the best example of that.”

Pleased by this turn of events, Miss Yuki kindly reminded the girls that allergies existed and to only share food when otherwise directed. Both Misa and Kina mumbled their apologies before being dismissed, the sound of their sneakers scuffling across the classroom as they left.

"Ooh — is that a katsu sandwich?" Kina asked Misa as the door swung closed behind them, having already absolved herself of guilt.

"Don't even think about it!" Osamu warned her.

He shook his head. Dragged a hand down his tired face. "I'm sorry about her. I'm always sneakin' her bites of food at my restaurant, but I didn’t think it’d give her the audacity to take someone else’s lunch.”

A wry smile tugged at your lips. "To be fair, Misa only thought it was okay to give because of me. So you’re not entirely to blame.”

Miss Yuki offered you both a soft smile.

"Kids are like sponges. They absorb what they see, no matter how small we think it is," she said. "So long as we're intentional about the behavior we're modeling for them at home, I'm confident they’ll be just fine."

Now it was your and Osamu’s turn to look guilty.

"Don't be too hard on yourselves, though!" she added. "You're doing a great job, raising them both on your own. You two should be very proud."

Her words stuck with you as you walked out of the classroom side-by-side.

"So," you began, strolling down the cobblestone path that lined the school's open campus. "I'm assuming you're also a member of the Single Parents Club?"

Osamu stuck both hands in the pocket of his jeans and winced. "What gave it away? The five o'clock shadow or the under eye bags?"

"Come on, now," you scoffed. "A couple cucumbers and eye cream? You'll be good as new."

He turned to face you, then, the afternoon sunlight slanting across his warm smile.

"Thank ya for bein' so patient with Kina," he said. "Not gonna lie, I was expectin' someone a whole lot scarier to walk through that door."

"Trust me," you snorted. "You were a pleasant surprise. I was fully expecting some middle-aged man in AirPods and a Patagonia puffer vest."

"Yeah," he said, chuckling. "There are a lot of those here, aren't there?"

A comfortable silence washed over the both of you as you checked out at the front office and walked into the parking lot, your prehistoric Honda Civic parked next to his beat-up Tayota Tacoma.

"Ya know," he said, jutting his chin towards your blouse. "A lil' bit of baking soda and vinegar will get that right out."

"Huh?" You glanced down at the visitor's sticker that had peeled off your very obvious coffee stain. "Shit. You weren't supposed to see that."

An easy laugh rumbled out of his chest as he retrieved his keys from his back pocket and asked, "You headed back into the office?"

"Yep. Those JVA press releases aren't going to write themselves," you told him with a tempered sigh. Your eyes flicked to his Onigiri Miya cap and matching shirt. "What about you? You headed back to the restaurant?"

"Yes, ma'am. Hopefully the place didn't catch fire without me," he joked. "I got a bunch of teenagers runnin' the place."

He rubbed the back of his neck, something like nervousness crossing his expression like a nebulous cloud.

"You should stop by for lunch sometime," he offered, the words light. Breezy. "I'll whip somethin' up as an apology for Kina's antics today. On the house."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Watched as a light blush bloomed across Osamu's features.

"Well," you drawled, recalling the vending machine salad currently sitting at the bottom of your work bag. "As someone who can't cook to save her life, I might just take you up on that."

"Great." Osamu's dimples deepened on either side of his lips when he smiled. "I'll, uh...I'll see ya at pickup later today?"

"Yes, sir." You waved your keys in salutation as you approached the driver's-side door of your car. "And don't forget Kina's velcro shoes! Miss Yuki will have a conniption if you don't."

"Right. How could I forget?" Osamu chuckled before climbing into his truck. "I only read fifty text messages about it this mornin'."

You collapsed into the driver's seat and slammed the car door shut, the air-tight silence causing your adrenaline to taper off for the first time all afternoon.

So? How'd it go? Kuroo texted you not a moment later. Do I need to jiu-jitsu the guy?

A small smile crept its way onto your face as you laughed at the message and thumbed out a reply.

Nope, you wrote, watching out the corner of your eye as Osamu's truck backed out of its spot and drove away.

Call me soft, but...I might just hold hands with him and sing kum ba ya.

Your coworker blew up your phone with questions as you buckled your seatbelt, turned on the ignition, and flung the car into reverse.

a/n: thank you for reading the first part of my new rom-com series, after school! 😭 as someone who worked at an all-girls school right after college, i have a ton of silly shenanigans to write home about (with cameos from our favorite haikyuu boys, obviously). like my last series, there is no taglist, but feel free to turn on post notifications for my blog! 💖

not in any grand, dramatic way. just quietly, gradually.

one day, he was the guy who sat beside you in a lecture because every other seat was taken. the next, he was the person you texted when something reminded you of him. the person you called when you had a bad day and didn’t feel like talking to anyone else. the person whose apartment you ended up in more often than your own, even when there was no real reason to be there.

somewhere along the way, you fell in love with him.

hard.

and somewhere along the way, that became a problem.

because tsukishima was impossible to read.

he was consistent in the smallest ways. coffee before your early classes when you looked like you hadn’t slept, or walking slightly slower when you were tired even though he’d never admit it. but inconsistent in everything that ever actually mattered.

sometimes he’d look at you like you were the only thing in the room. sometimes he’d act like you were just air.

sometimes you caught him staring when he thought you weren’t looking, glasses slightly sliding down his nose as he read something he’d already finished five minutes ago just to avoid being obvious.

sometimes he remembered things you said in passing months ago, and he’d recall it so casually it made your chest hurt more than it should’ve.

but none of it was enough. not enough to risk everything. not enough to risk him.

so you didn’t.

you kept your feelings folded away neatly where no one could see them, and told yourself it was safer that way.

and then there was kageyama tobio.

you really wish there wasn’t.

everyone seemed convinced you liked him. it was easier for them that way, to turn you into something simple and readable. just because he looked at you sometimes when you were with mutual friends, classmates would tease you about it. friends joked about it. even strangers assumed it when you and him were in the same space for more than five minutes.

and every single time, tsukishima looked annoyed.

you always noticed.

of course you did.

you noticed everything when it came to him.

but you never let yourself think too hard about why.

tonight, the two of you are sitting outside your apartment building after a long study session.

the air is cool enough to make your sleeves feel slightly too thin. campus is quiet in a way where everything feels suspended, like the world has paused but forgotten to turn itself back on.

for once, neither of you have anywhere else to be.

you think the night is ending like it always does. quiet conversation fading into comfortable silence, when tsukishima suddenly speaks.

“so.”

you glance up from your phone, “so?”

his eyes stay fixed on the parking lot, “who is it?”

“who is who?” you frown, sliding your phone into your pocket.

“the person you like, y/n.”

well, that’s certainly not what you were expecting.

for a moment, everything feels too loud. your heartbeat, the distant hum of a car passing nearby, the way your breath suddenly doesn’t feel like it fits in your chest anymore.

“what?”

he exhales through his nose like he’s mildly irritated. “the guy you like. everyone keeps talking about it.”

right.

you stare at him. well, this must be it. the opportunity you’ve imagined a hundred different ways. the opportunity you’ve wanted for months.

maybe even years.

you could tell him. you could finally tell him.

the silence rings in your ears, pulling you out of your thoughts.

tsukishima finally turns toward you, “well?”

your mouth goes dry. why is he being so damn persistent? maybe you should just say it. you should just tell him.

but, of course, you laugh nervously instead.

“why do you care, kei?”

tsukishima rolls his eyes, scoffing as if you just asked if dragons were real. “i don’t.”

yeah, clearly, or else he wouldn’t be asking. his answer comes annoyingly fast. you return the eye roll.

“liar.”

he scoffs again. what is with him? why does it even matter?

but you smile despite yourself.

and somehow that makes it easier. you look away, gathering your courage. “fine.”

tsukishima leans back against the bench. “fine.”

your heart is beating so hard it feels painful. “um…well, he’s tall.”

out of the corner of your eye, you see his eyebrows lift slightly. “wow. what a specific description.”

you nudge his shoulder, “shut up.”

a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he hides it again like it was never even there. so you continue.

“he’s annoying.”

“there it is.” he sighs.

what? what does he mean? does he know who you’re talking about?! no, surely not.

“and rude,” you continue.

“yeah, sounds like a great guy.”

you let out a breath that turns into a laugh before you can stop it. a real one. the kind that only ever seems to happen around him without you meaning for it to.

for a moment, it almost feels normal. it almost feels safe.

“he’s smart. a little nerdy, actually.”

then something changes. it’s subtle, almost impossible for either of you to notice.

but you do.

because you’ve spent years learning him.

tsukishima’s teasing fades first. then his expression. his attention sharpens in a way that makes the air between you feel thinner.

“he acts like he doesn’t care about people.”

the smile on his face disappears completely now.

“but he does.”

you finally look at him. and that’s when you see it.

the softness in his eyes. the hope. not certainty. not confidence.

hope.

like he’s starting to believe you’re talking about him. like he’s trying not to believe it even though he wants to so, so bad.

your stomach drops. suddenly this isn’t hypothetical anymore. this isn’t a daydream. this isn’t some silly fantasy you replay before falling asleep. this is real.

and if you’re wrong? if you say his name and he doesn’t feel the same way? you don’t lose just the confession.

you’ll lose him.

your best friend. your favorite person. the one person you can’t imagine your life without.

you were halfway through the lie when you realized what it would cost you. the look in his eyes should’ve stopped you.

but instead it made everything worse. instead, it filled you with fear. fear of being wrong. fear of ruining everything. fear of watching that hope disappear because of something you said.

so you panic.

you look away too fast, like ripping off a bandage you weren’t ready for.

“kageyama.”

the silence that follows is immediate.

painful. violent.

you don’t even need to look at him to know something has changed. you’ve realized by the look in his eyes what this has caused.

the air feels different. heavier. colder. so, so much colder, and that feeling is accompanied by the goosebumps forming across your body.

when you finally glance over, all hope is lost—like it was never there at all.

tsukishima stares at you for a moment. then he blinks.

“oh.”

just that one little word. but it hurts. it hurts deeply, like you’ve taken a dagger to the heart.

“oh,” he repeats quietly, almost to himself this time, jaw tightening like he’s physically holding something back. you know him well enough to recognize what he’s doing. building the walls back up, one brick at a time.

and suddenly you realize you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life.

tsukishima stares at you for a moment after the silence settles, like he’s waiting for you to say something that fixes it. when you don’t, he exhales through his nose and looks away again.

“…right. of course,” he says quietly. those words alone are so much worse than yelling.

your stomach drops. he was really, truly upset. “tsukki—wait, no, i didn’t mean it like that.”

he scoffs. “you did, though.”

“i swear didn’t. i panicked. i literally panicked, i didn’t think—”

“yeah, that’s kind of the problem,” he interrupts, voice sharper now. not loud. just controlled. “you didn’t think. you just said it. clearly, kageyama was the first person you thought of.”

you take a shaky step toward him. “because i thought if i said you, it would be—”

“what?” he cuts in immediately. “what would it be?”

you stop. your mouth opens, then closes again. saliva pools in your mouth. this is absolutely sickening. something that’s only happened in the worst of your dreams.

tears prick your eyes. because saying it out loud makes it real. and you’re still scared.

tsukishima notices. of course he does.

he lets out a short laugh, but there’s nothing in it. “yeah. that’s what i fuckin’ thought,” he turns away from you once again.

“okay, that’s not fair,” you say quickly. “you can’t just decide what i was going to say.”

“i didn’t decide,” he says, finally looking at you again. “you did.”

that lands hard.

you feel your chest tighten. “you’re acting like i went up and chose him with a kiss.”

“you said his name,” he replies flatly.

“yeah, i know,” your voice cracks, and you hate it immediately. “i know i did, but i didn’t mean it, kei.”

“then why’d you even say it?” he said, voice dry, eyes avoiding yours.

“i told you—because i was scared!”

he goes quiet at that. not immediately softer. just still. like that word hit somewhere it shouldn’t have.

“…scared of what?” he asks after a beat.

you let out a shaky breath. “of you.”

tsukishima blinks. “me?”

“yes, you,” you say, more frustrated now because it’s all spilling out. “you act like nothing matters half the time, tsukishima. you sit there and make jokes and act like everything is annoying and stupid and i can never tell if i’m just another person to you or if i actually—“ you pause, swallowing back the nearly painful lump in your throat, “if i actually mean anything.”

his jaw tightens slightly.

“that’s not—” he starts, then stops himself again. his throat tightens, as he looks away. “you’re really bad at this.”

“yeah, i fucking know,” you snap. “i know i’m bad at this, that’s the whole point. i didn’t want to ruin whatever this is between us.” you sloppily gesture between the two of you, doing whatever possible to get your point across.

he laughs again, quiet. “you really think this is fine right now?”

that sure shuts you up. because no, obviously, it’s not fine. your whole relationship is falling apart in real time.

you swallow. “i like you, kei,” you sigh, softer now. “that’s what i was trying to say before i panicked.” you exhale sharply through your nose right after, blinking fast and pressing your lips together like you’ve just forced something out of you that you can’t take back. because you have. this better be whatever he had wanted to hear, because this is irreversible.

tsukishima doesn’t respond immediately. and in a heartbeat, that silence makes you nervous all over again.

then he says, “you can’t say that like it fixes it.”

your breath catches. well, shit. “no, i-i’m not trying to fix it. i’m trying to—i’m telling you the truth!” you argue desperately.

“yeah, after you already said kageyama.”

“goddamnit, i corrected it!” you insist, voice rising slightly. “i literally corrected it!”

“okay, well that’s not how that works,” he says, sharper now, and there it is—the faltering crack in his control again. “you don’t just undo it.”

your eyes sting. what were you even supposed to do? to say? he seems ten toes down on what he’s arguing. your throat tightens, “so what, that’s it?”

“well, i didn’t say that.”

“then what are you saying, tsukishima?”

he goes quiet again. long enough that it starts to feel genuinely unbearable.

then he exhales, slower this time, “i’m saying i thought you were about to say me.”

that stops you completely. you definitely thought it was weird that he reacted in such a way when you said kageyama’s name. but you thought you were extremely delusional to ever imagine this being. nevertheless, here you are.

“…what?”

he looks at you again, and it’s different now. less defensive. more honest in a way that clearly frustrates him. “i thought you were talking about me,” he repeats. “and then you said kageyama.”

your voice drops along with your heart. “tsukki…”

“don’t, y/n,” he says immediately, but not harshly this time. more like he’s trying to hold himself together. “do not make it worse.”

“i didn’t know,” you say quickly. “i didn’t know you felt—”

“i didn’t say i felt anything,” he interrupts, but it’s too late. it’s already slipped.

you stare at him. “you did, though.”

he clicks his tongue, looking away again. “you’re so fucking annoying.”

“okay, that’s not a fucking answer, tsukishima.” you counter, letting the back-and-forth continue. he wasn’t getting away from this. not here, not now.

“yeah, well, it’s the only one you’re getting right now.”

another pause. then you step closer again, more careful this time. “i like you, kei,” you say quietly. “i like you so much it’s actually embarrassing.”

he glances at you, his guard dropping ever so slightly. “yeah?”

“yes.”

“that’s unfortunate,” he says automatically. you blink at him, trying to read his face, but he’s already looking away like he didn’t mean anything by it. still, your thoughts snag on it—unfortunate? what does that even mean? he doesn’t like you back? then what was his little conniption for?

you let out a shaky laugh. “tsukki.”

“what?” he says, but his voice is lower now and slightly shaky. you swallow, staring at the ground.

“i’m sorry.”

“for what?” he questions. you’ve never heard him speak so softly. so gently. like you might shatter to pieces if he raises his voice even slightly.

“for messing this up.” you exhale, heart beating a million miles a minute.

he exhales through his nose, longer this time. “you didn’t mess anything up.”

you blink. “i didn’t? but that completely contradicts—“

oh, he knew. he knew his previous actions weren’t matching his current words. “no,” he blurts, finally looking at you fully again. “you just picked the worst possible delivery method.”

that makes you laugh through your tears a little. “well, kei, i figured as much, given that you lost your shit.”

silence again. but it’s not as cold now. it’s different. you see the sorrow in his eyes. he feels bad for scaring you.

he shifts slightly, like he’s debating something. then he says, quieter, “say it again.”

you frown slightly, brows furrowing in confusion. “what?”

“what you said earlier.” he slowly rocks back and forth on his heels, chewing the inside of his cheek.

your heart stutters. “i like you?”

tsukishima looks at you for a second. taking in a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets. “yeah.”

you breathe in. “i like you, tsukishima.”

he exhales like that finally settles something. “god, took you long enough,” he mutters.

you blink. “is that seriously your response?”

“well it’s a good one,” he says, stepping closer.

“that’s…yeah, that’s really debatable, kei.”

he huffs. “you’re really still arguing right now?”

“well you started it.”

“that’s not how—” he stops himself, then just shakes his head slightly. “you’re obnoxious.”

you smile a little, still shaky. “well you like me anyway.”

that makes him pause just a second, like you’ve only now spoken it into existence.

“…unfortunately,” he says. but there’s no real bite in it. no defense. just him refusing to make it easy for you.

your chest tightens a little anyway, because now everything feels too real. and that’s when it hits you all at once. all the time before this.

sitting next to him in lectures where you pretended not to care how aware you were of his presence. the first time he showed up at your apartment with coffee without asking. late nights where you studied for five minutes and talked for five hours instead. the way he remembers things you forget telling anyone else.

the way you always, always end up choosing to sit next to him without thinking about it.

your throat feels tight. you blink quickly, looking away before it shows too much.

“don’t,” he says immediately, like he already knows.

you let out a small, unsteady laugh. “i’m not doing anything.”

“you’re about to start crying.”

“i’m not trying to.”

“well don’t.”

“that’s not how crying works, kei.”

he clicks his tongue, but it’s softer than before. less annoyed. more like he doesn’t know what to do with you like this. and that’s when it really sinks in for you.

you almost didn’t say it.

you almost lied. and if you had, you would’ve lost this version of him forever.

your fingers curl slightly into your sleeve, “i really thought i ruined everything,” you admit quietly.

he glances at you then, properly this time, “you didn’t,” he says. a pause. then, like he really can’t help himself, “you just made me listen to you say kageyama’s name for no reason.”

you actually laugh at that, wiping at your face quickly. “i said i was sorry.”

“yeah,” he says. that’s all.

you wait a beat, expecting him to continue. but he doesn’t.

so you tilt your head slightly. “and i corrected myself.”

he finally looks fully at you again, expression flat but not cold. “eventually.”

you groan, dragging a hand over your face.

“oh my god.”

that gets the smallest twitch of a smile from him. and for a second, the tension breaks just enough that it almost feels like before all of this went wrong. almost, but not quite.

because now you’re both standing in the reality of it. no more guessing, no more pretending. just the truth sitting between you.

he likes you, you like him.

and neither of you know what to do with that yet. you take a small step closer without thinking. he does the same.

“kei,” you say quietly.

this time, he doesn’t tease you for it. doesn’t deflect. he just looks at you.

and something in his expression shifts. subtle, but quick. like a decision being made without words.

one step closer. then another.

until there’s barely any space left between you at all and you can feel your heart in your throat now. and you realize, very suddenly, that he’s really, really not joking anymore. neither of you are.

his gaze drops for half a second, just long enough for you to notice, then comes back to your eyes.

this time, when he leans in, there’s no hesitation left to fight against.

his lips press against yours tenderly and you go dizzy in the head. he’s so close you can’t feel your legs anymore. you can taste his mint chapstick and somehow it’s so sweet, so sickeningly sweet, you almost can’t take it. your lips mold together desperately, as if you’re both chasing something you already have.

the kiss doesn’t seem like it should feel this dramatic. it feels like something that was happening the entire time you were talking, and only now caught up to reality.

your hand catches his sleeve without you thinking.

his hand steadies at your waist like he’s making sure you’re actually there. like he’s been afraid you might disappear if he moves too fast.

and for once, there’s no noise in your head. no overthinking. no fear.

just him.

when he pulls back, it’s not far, not really at all. you’re still close enough that your breath keeps catching against his. he exhales slowly, forehead almost brushing yours, and for a second, neither of you speak

then, quietly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “…don’t say kageyama again.”

you let out a breathless laugh, still shaking a little, “i won’t.”

“good.”

a pause.

he looks away for half a second like he’s trying to regain control of his face.

“because i’d actually lose my mind.” he jokes reluctantly.

that finally makes you laugh properly. and this time, he doesn’t pretend he isn’t smiling too.

author’s note . . . first fic yay 😊😊 for my beautiful @laceylovesmatthew !! requests always open.

🏷️ :: none yet !

© bokutosbabydoll