#noyatsuki

“Hm,” Tanaka huffs, digging into his rice. “Still. Stealing his towel is a bit too much…”

“Says the one who notoriously hogs all the blankets to himself,” Ennoshita remarks. “I’m not gonna sleep next to you next training camp.”

“Oh come on, don’t just attack me out of nowhere…!” Tanaka exclaims, but his voice gets lost in the war cry Nishinoya makes as he races across the room, a pair of glasses in hand, Tsukishima in tow, fast-walking. “That’s going way overboard.”

“Well, ‘til Tsukishima lets him,” Ennoshita shrugs, nudging him to turn back to his food. Tanaka reluctantly takes a bite of something chewy and green, but his thoughts wander, eyes following the absurd duo.

He could swear he heard Tsukishima giggle.

It stays on his mind for the rest of the day, gaze following the tall blocker and the tiny libero unconsciously. And he notices things: badly disguised glances, high fives that linger unnecessarily, pinkies that somehow get interlinked for short moments. And something builds in him, like a nasty stomach ache, planting budding pain under his ribs and sending him heartburns.

When after a nice play Nishinoya trots to Tsukishima and bops into the blocker’s side, barely hiding his intentions to rub his face against the taller boy’s chest, Tanaka tears his eyes away, only to find Ennoshita, sitting on a bench to the left.

His eyes find a moment of rest there, drinking in the familiar angle of his forehead, his nose, his lips. Ennoshita’s pale, slightly shiny skin is now pearlescent with sweat, his soft brown hair flattened and stuck against his scalp. The afternoon light glows against his skin, glides down his chin and follows his neck down to the edge of his T-shirt. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks. Tanaka is way too far, yet he reckons to hear the soft pop as Ennoshita’s lips separate from the water bottle.

“Oy, Ryuu,” Nishinoya tackles him suddenly, impact melting his vision into blurry shades of pink, black, brown, yellow. “You ready to team up with me and Suga-san tonight?”

“Setting practice?” Tanaka asks. As he looks at Nishinoya’s happy face, so content with the world, the ugly thing in his stomach churns.

How unfair, he thinks.

Noya has always been the braver, the more daring – it earned him a slap from Shimizu once, and the respect of Tanaka for the rest of his life – but for this simple difference in their traits to make Tanaka so frustrated one day, that deep within his urge him to keep his distance from his best friend grows every minute…

Unfair.

“Sure thing,” he replies, patting Nishinoya on the shoulder. He is not to give in to some monster feeding off of his cowardice and let it destroy his friendships. Not without a fight.

“Cool!” the libero clings to him shortly. “All day you seemed so down, I wouldn’t have known what to do if you said no.”

“I would never say no,” he says, hushing the pain in his stomach.

“That’s my Ryuu!” Nishinoya exclaims, turning towards the nearest teammates.

Yamaguchi nods, slightly startled by his vigor – Tsukishima on the other hand laughs, eyes lingering on Nishinoya’s face just a moment longer than it would be natural.

Tanaka wonders whether his senses sharpened, noticing it all that seemingly no one else can see, the only reason he finds not making him any happy.

People see what they want to see.

That, Ennoshita told him yesterday night – it was a lengthy anecdote about how each movie leaves a different feeling in everyone, and so if you ask a group of 10 to describe the same movie, and show the answers to someone, it’s 10 different stories you get – and while he did find it interesting, it was late at night, and half of the thing he has already forgotten. This lone sentence stuck in his head, along with the fired up eyes of his friend.

He notices Noya teasing Tsukishima, because he wants to do the same. He craves Ennoshita’s attention – and oh, he would steal towels, pick fights, launch himself at him at full speed – if only he had the courage to do so. Stealing his blanket at night sadly doesn’t count; he does it after he fought off his anxiety and managed to fall asleep, deep unconscious.

If only he could grab his hands once, that would be ideal. Even if their palms are sweaty, or covered in dirt after a round of flying falls.

“You wander around like someone lost.”

If only –

– he had the courage.

“Chikara.”

“Ryuunosuke.”

“You abuse my name way too much.”

“Where to?” Ennoshita asks, gallantly ignoring Tanaka’s whining.

“Ah. The… gym. I meet up with Suga-san and Noya.”

“I would’ve thought you were power walking around the dormitory. You passed this spot three times already.”

Of course he did. He was busy gathering courage to invite Ennoshita to their extra practice – not that he would ever admit it.

“If you are done mocking me, you could maybe join me!” he says. Frustrated by his own cowardice, he lets the invitation slip – not quite how he planned, and definitely not in a charming way.

“Ok,” Ennoshita says simply, sinking his hands into his short’s pockets and stepping out the dormitory’s door. “After you.”

Baffled, Tanaka obeys, walking ahead. He feels uncomfortable to begin with, being so unsuccessful at wooing his friend, but the feeling becomes unbearable as Ennoshita trails behind, never quite lining up beside him. Out of his sight, it is up to his hearing to deliver him the rhythmic thuds of Ennoshita’s steps and his imagination to fill in the gaps – the latter not the best friend of teenage boys with impractical crushes.

Hot wind blows in his face, and he wonders if Ennoshita smells him.

He wonders if he smells bad, actually.

On the court, he is fearless; Ukai even called him the pillar of Karasuno for his endless mental fortitude once – yet, when it comes to Ennoshita, he curls in on himself. Insecurities bloom in his heart, nurtured by every attempt he fails to call out to his friend, to grab onto him, to speak.

Once Ennoshita comes in the picture, he becomes a coward. He becomes frail. Vulnerable. Inexperienced.

He turns into someone who is jealous at their best friend’s happiness.

Tanaka forces his train of thought to stop, halting his steps along the way.

“It’s not like I want this…” he grumbles beneath his breath.

There’s a breeze against the nape of his neck, it smells like shampoo and coke –

“You don’t want what?” Ennoshita asks, lips dangerously close to Tanaka’s ears. “Sorry,” he steps away to the side, raising his hand in his defense. “You stopped so suddenly, I nearly walked into you. So… care to share what’s bothering you?”

The idea to stop so abruptly in front of Ennoshita that he walks into him one day barges into Tanaka’s mind like a storm, washing away all the frustration he felt while walking ahead of him.

“I was just thinking…” he starts, collecting his thoughts.

He can’t admit that he was thinking about Ennoshita. Let alone his feelings.

It would be selfish, forcing his feelings on his friend. It would be so tactless, so brash to confess, and he has so much at stake – he could destroy it all.

He values their friendship more than anything else, and if he has to decide between the feelings he has and the possibility to lose it all…

He is a coward like that.

But sometimes… just sometimes, he wishes to take his chances. He wishes to be cool and in control – to be charming beyond belief, to make Ennoshita fall head over heels in love with him.

He wishes he would have the courage to be daring. He imagines teasing Ennoshita – and even though he knows he would never win an oral argument; he could always poke at his friend’s sides. Ennoshita’s ticklish after all; if he could elicit laughter, he won the argument without the need for a witty comeback.

“… about Noya and Tsukishima,” he shrugs.

Ennoshita takes a sharp inhale. Something darkens in his eyes, and somehow Tanaka feels a distance between them, even as Ennoshita places a hand on his shoulder.

“They’re gays, Tanaka.”

“I know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And? You good?”

“What?”

“You were bothered by them before,” Ennoshita continues, somewhat guarded. “If… if it disgusts you, or you feel concerned…”

“No, no!” Tanaka shakes his head. Why did he start this conversation again? How is he coming out of this alive?

“You can be honest with me you know.”

“I’m just…”

Jealous.

In love.

Hopeless.

He places a hand over Ennoshita’s on his shoulder, dragging it down between them. Heart throbbing in his throat, drumming in his ears and pulsing through his veins, he trembles.

Hand holding accomplished. Not quite like planned. Not even in a meaningful way. It’s just a coward’s play, something along that fine line he can still dance back from to safe terrain.

“I was surprised,” he says, finding that the words come much easier if he stares blankly at their interlinked hands. “I thought that this was something rare, and to see it in front of my eyes, it made me feel –”

“Uncomfortable?” Ennoshita guesses, ducking his neck to catch Tanaka’s gaze.

Tanaka blinks, breaking his stare away from their hands, and he finds that it’s extremely hard not to look at Ennoshita’s eyes – not when they are so mesmerizing, brown, with flecks of gray and yellow.

“Jealous,” Tanaka replies.

It’s Ennoshita’s turn to be at a loss of words. He glares at him surprised, brows raising, lips slowly parting, but no voice coming out.

“I’m trash, aren’t I? I see my best friend’s happiness, and all I can feel is frustration because I can’t just jump at the boy I like freely.”

“What stops you?” Ennoshita asks, his voice careful, hand trembling in Tanaka’s ever so slightly.

“Have you ever been rejected?” Tanaka squeaks, octave higher than planned. “I know it sounds stupid, coming from me, who is being rejected on a daily basis by Kiyoko-san, but this and that’s different. I thought I was fine just loving Kiyoko-san for the rest of my life, but then this thing happened, and now I like this one boy, and he is the softest thing ever, and I would die if he rejected me.”

“Yeah,” Ennoshita says. “This sounds stupid. Coming from you, coming from anyone else. You can’t die from a rejection. You can be pretty down, of course, mope around for a few weeks, but then you get over it and move on.”

“You speak as if you have been rejected. Is there something I don’t know of?”

“Well… not exactly rejected, but almost the same.”

“Someone broke Chikara’s heart!”

“I notice your desperate attempt to change topics, but we are now talking about you.”

“Damn.”

“At least I know why you’ve been acting like a lost puppy for the past few weeks.”

“Did I?” Tanaka asks.

Ennoshita smiles in reply, shaking his head shortly.

“So, what makes you think that you will be rejected by this softest thing of yours?” he asks, nudging Tanaka in the side with his free hand.

Tanaka looks at Ennoshita, heart filling up. It breaks him, keeping him in the dark. It feels like deceit, to talk about his crush with his crush himself. Tanaka is no good at lies, acting and the such – he has always been the one who wore his heart on his sleeve.

Except that Ennoshita made him meek.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

“Wouldn’t I what?” Ennoshita asks, oblivious. “Reject you? Such a great party?”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Well, if you ask like that, I’m no longer sure whether to brush it off or take it seriously.” There’s something painful in how he says it, how his hand tremble in Tanaka’s while he says it, how his eyes falter, gaze cast to the side.

“I’m sorry,” Tanaka says, squeezing his hand. “I don’t intend to make you feel uncomfortable, Chikara.”

“Well…”

“But I really want to hear your reply.”

“What?”

“Would you reject me?”

Ennoshita lets out a sigh, long and pained.

“I won’t. But I would kill you for calling me the softest thing ever.”

“You can kill me anytime,” Tanaka offers, opening up his chest for any imaginary weapon, closing his eyes in surrender.

When the attack comes, it’s fatal. It’s soft yet firm, thin yet plump, simple yet daring. Ennoshita charges in with his lips, pulling Tanaka close by their interlinked hands.

“There,” he says then, letting Tanaka go.

“Wow. That… that was something. You killed me good.”

“Are you dead yet?”

“I think I must be at least dying. And dreaming in delirium. About you kissing me?”

“Just so we are on the same page,” Ennoshita says clearing his throat. “Did you actually confess just now?”

“I think I did. I wanted to.”

“Good then. It would be so weird if I just kissed you and your lover boy was someone else.”

“No, it’s you!” Tanaka exclaims, only to burn up in an extreme blush afterwards.

“Hnn,” Ennoshita says, leaning closer. “So you really deserve that killing.”

This time, Tanaka is ready for the kiss – that not making him any more experienced, but at least he tries his best, leaning into it.

“Dead yet?”

“Could survive a few more strikes.”

“How am I soft?”

“You are. Just. Just accept it.”

“You know, for a moment you really frightened me back there with this whole softest thing ever story. I thought you had a thing for Hinata, and I really didn’t know what would I do with my stupid crush if I had to support you in courting him.”

“You have a crush?”

“Oh my god, Tanaka, forget about me kissing you, got it? Forget it all, you don’t deserve it, you never did, I should’ve just forgot about you back in first year when you broke my heart –”

“I did?!”

“Well. It doesn’t feel too good when you just started developing a crush on this crazy weirdo to see that he is confessing on every occasion to your team’s beautiful manager.”

“Oh, shit, no. I couldn’t. No.”

“Yes, yes you did. You shattered my young heart.”

“Chikara, I’m sorry, if I knew I wouldn’t have–”

“Hush now. That was my stupid ass being all mopey. But did I go up to you to confess? No. I had rather run away and quit club activities altogether.”

“Oooh.”

“Yeah, I know, crazy story, huh? I was a pretty dramatic kid. You know, too many movies,” Ennoshita laughs, entwining his fingers with Tanaka’s and starting to pull him towards the gyms. “We can discuss this later, and talk about what made you finally realize my potential, but for now I think we are late for practice.”

“You’re right,” Tanaka agrees, half sad that Ennoshita stopped kissing him, half happy at the promise of continuation. “I wouldn’t want to make Suga-san wait.”

***

“Anyways, how did you know? That Noya and Tsukishima…”

“I kinda walked in on them,” Ennoshita says, pulling up his shoulders in defense, “while they were making out in the club room.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“They were making out, huh.”

“What?”

Strawberry Toffee

 “Wow, you must’ve had a big growth spurt suddenly,” Nishinoya muses and he absent-mindedly traces the marked back of Tsukishima.

The tall boy jumps from the touch. His ears flare up bright red.

Nishinoya feels as the axe of cuteness lands in his chest with a loud thud.

He couldn’t describe it better: the look on Tsukishima’s face slaughtered him and shattered his heart into pieces.

He never ever imagined that the freshman could be this adorable when flustered. He never thought he could make the lanky boy flustered, in the first place. He thought Tsukishima’s wall of sarcasm was impenetrable.

Yet, Tsukishima stands right in front of him, face flushed, arms entangled in his T-shirt. His face is bright red from one ear to another; his nostrils flare with the sharp breath he takes, his lips part shakily, then close before he could say anything. Shyly, he is turning to face Nishinoya, hiding his back as much as possible.

The libero’s brain stops functioning. It’s obvious he has touched a weak point, but he didn’t mean it, and oh, now how can he make it un-happen?

“Oh, I meant it as a compliment! Those growth lines are rad, man!” he says panicked and he slaps Tsukishima’s shoulder awkwardly. He is sure he is digging his own grave with every word he utters, yet he can’t put a stopper on his speech. “I never really grew, so I have nothing of the kind. I am quite envious, you know!” he adds desperately, and he feels like crying seeing how Tsukishima’s expression changes, darkens.

“Can you please stop, Noya-san?” the tall boy asks silently. “It bothers me.”

He looks at Nishinoya with a wounded look.

The libero’s eyes follow Tsukishima’s lips as an inaudible sigh leaves them. His stomach churns, and he decides that the culprit for his strange symptoms must be the two-weeks-expired melon bread he ate earlier the day.

“I’m sorry. Really.” When Tsukishima turns away to pull on his T-shirt, Nishinoya drops his head. “I had no idea I would hurt you” he says.

As no reply comes, he tries another approach instead. Quickly turning to his bag, he starts to frantically search its contents. He is sure that he will find something in there that could make Tsukishima feel better.

“Here you go,” he says finally, tugging on Tsukishima’s T-shirt to make the boy face him again.

There is a short pause before the blonde turns. His blush is gone and he seems to be back to his naturally cold attitude, but Nishinoya can see the surprise in his eyes.

A winning smile appears on the lips of the libero. Bonbon in hand, he leans in, in a posture similar to that of the knights in fairy tales; one leg slightly behind the other, one hand behind his waist, supporting his stance.

“A strawberry toffee,” he says, glancing up from below his lashes and all that crazy hair. His prying eyes await the tall boy’s reactions curiously.

Tsukishima’s lips part. He breaths in, slowly. He sighs, and carefully, with the tips of his fingers, he seizes the wrapper of the candy.

“Thanks,” he says. He doesn’t seem to be angry.

Nishinoya takes this as encouragement. His left hand flies ahead from behind his tiny frame and grabs Tsukishima’s wrist.

“Caught you,” he smiles.

“Noya-san…?”

“Oh… well, you seemed kind of down. Thought a surprise would make the trick,” he laughs awkwardly. “I didn’t want to hurt you, and I couldn’t bear if my comment left a bad aftertaste…”

The bewildered look on Tsukishima’s face renders the libero silent and even more panicked than before. ‘The candy was probably a bad idea,’ he thinks loosening his grasp on Tsukishima’s wrist but reluctant to let go.

*

‘He doesn’t have to know. Not now, not ever,’ Tsukishima repeats his mantra over and over again, but his instincts win over his brain.

He yanks Nishinoya closer with his arm the libero clings onto. Nishinoya nearly trips from the sudden pull, his eyes open wider in surprise. Tsukishima leans down and sighs softly in remorse over the impromptu crime he is about to commit the moment before he shuts his own eyes.

Nishinoya’s lips are dry and chapped. They taste of pocari and confusion.

He unconsciously tucks his neck backwards to meet Tsukishima’s lips, but doesn’t return the kiss. His lips stay closed and impassive; he even stops breathing upon impact.

Tsukishima wishes to run away and hide in a hole far away, deeper than the sea.

He swore to himself months ago, when he first noticed how his eyes wander off during practice, that he will not do anything about his small, budding crush for Nishinoya.

He hardened his resolve over the excruciatingly long days of the summer camp; he willingly blocked for Bokuto, rather than spending time with his own team when he noticed that his insignificant curiosity grew greater and stronger, until the point he found it hard to look Nishinoya in the eyes.

It was not some innocent interest one develops for the other. It was lust, burning in his body, tearing him apart and driving him crazy. First, it was the hand. The fingers, soft and slender; the palm thin like paper, the wrist he could encircle with his fingers easily. Then it was the neck, slim and sweaty, the Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as the libero shouted his cheery words.

It was the clavicle, the soft arc between his sternum and scapula.

It was those tiny shoulders carrying the weight which came with the name of the guardian deity.

Tsukishima noticed himself glancing over at the libero after practice; wishing he could run his fingers over the oh-so fragile looking, yet firm body.

It was the mouth. The ears. The eyes. His soft-looking cheeks.

Tsukishima fell for this dumb, cheerful tiny bird, and all he could think about for the past few weeks was how sweet his lips would be.

He wished it was someone else. Someone to whom he could probably tell how his interest for them was strongly of sexual nature. Someone like… someone else, but Nishinoya.

He tried to supress the urge to get close to the libero. He evaded eye contact, he evaded talking; the high fives they made as they changed each other on the court felt like no other pain.

He tried, and tried hard to forget his lust.

He focused on his studies instead, burying himself in books deep inside the library; a place Nishinoya would never visit.

He banished all fantasies, and killed all desire in their wake. He even deprived himself from the luxury of thoughts.

And then, when he finally thought that it was safe to be just the two of them in the changing room, because he felt that he had mastered the art of denying love; Nishinoya reached out to him and stroked the growth lines on his back.

His resistance has broken as a dam in time of flood. And as he opens his eyes, heart drumming loud in his ears, timidly glancing over Nishinoya, he wishes he could disappear.

The boy looks puzzled. Not utterly freaked out, but nearly.

“Umm… well…” he starts in a strange, high-pitched yet raspy voice. “This is… uhm… we…”

He meets Tsukishima’s gaze and blinks.

Utter defeat looms over Tsukishima, and he tries turning his face away. He can still smell the shampoo on Nishinoya’s hair, and it drives him crazy. He tries to get away from the situation, to escape somehow, run for the door and pretend that nothing happened the next day, but something stops him.

He is still holding onto the candy Nishinoya offered him. Nishinoya is still holding onto his wrist.

“Tsukishima,” the libero says, and the blocker wishes he could be deaf. He has no intention to listen. He knows what is coming; he pictured this situation over and over again, in different times, with different backgrounds, in colour and in black-and-white. “Tsukishima,” Nishinoya starts again, and he clutches the boy’s wrist stronger, until their eyes finally meet. There is real concern painted all over his face.

Tsukishima feels his insides churn again.

“It was not the marks on your back, was it?” Nishinoya asks.

“I’m sorry, Noya-san” Tsukishima says, tearing his arm out of Nishinoya’s grasp. His face is burning red, and he stutters as he continues. “Would you let me save the remnants of my pride… and let me walk away from here now, without demanding explanation?”

“You like the easy way out, don’t you?” he whispers, stepping closer. “If you are so afraid to lose, how will you ever succeed in anything that doesn’t fall into your lap on its own?” his voice creaks, as he pulls Tsukishima down to his eye level.

“I’m…” the blonde starts, but freezes when he notices Nishinoya closing his eyes. He takes a sharp breath as the libero closes the distance between them.

First, Nishinoya bumps his nose into Tsukishima’s. Next his lips touch the tip of the blocker’s nose. Third time he opens his eyes.

“Damn you for getting the right spot blindly,” he murmurs before he presses his lips on the lips of Tsukishima.

His technique is as crude as that of a baby chimpanzee that just came down from a tree. His nose pushes Tsukishima’s glasses up, his cheek bumps into the boy’s, his teeth graze skin.

Tsukishima takes a surprised step back.

“Noya-san,” he breathes, grabbing both arms of the libero.

“Hn?” Nishinoya asks.

“I don’t advise you to continue,” Tsukishima says, and it takes all of his self-control to stop himself from attacking the boy there and then.

Nishinoya looks up at him. Their eyes meet and damn, he just can’t stop himself from brushing his thumbs over the shoulders of the libero.

“Sorry, was it that bad?” Nishinoya asks. “You know, I have absolutely no experience in kissing, so if it was bad, just instruct me…”

Tsukishima feels like he was suddenly thrown into a pot filled with boiling water.

How do you tell your senpai that every ounce of you craves to touch him?

“Please,” he begs, but Nishinoya looks at him so openly and honestly that he is unable to resist. He leans down and plants a soft, feathery kiss on the forehead of the libero. “Don’t probe me, please. I want you.”

“I realized,” says Nishinoya, lifting his head to match Tsukishima’s lips, but he doesn’t touch them.

“This is a terrible idea,” Tsukishima protests weakly before kissing the libero.

“Every idea is a terrible one if you don’t dare to make them happen.”

“Is this a proverb from one of your T-shirt, Noya-san?”

“Probably,” replies the libero, tiptoeing to reach the neck of the blocker, and pulls him back to his level. “Kiss me. Teach how to do it right.”

The candy, neglected and forgotten, falls to the ground.