Chapter Text
'Go away.'
On the dawn of your eighteenth birthday, your soulmate mark will appear on your skin. The first thing they’ll ever say to you — or the first thing they ever said if you’d already known each other like Bokuto and Akaashi did —, etched on the part of your body where they’ll touch you first. For most people, it’s on their palm or their shoulders. A tap on the metro, a courteous handshake. You can’t miss it either— you’ll feel the mark. Whatever that means.
Tetsurou stares at the soulmate mark etched into his skin, gaping at the words that appeared less than a few seconds ago. He blinks; once, twice, willing them to change but to no avail. He can already hear the inevitable headache he'll from Bokuto laughing at his ass for hours straight. Akaashi would be gracious about it— would offer a firm pat to the shoulder and a rational assurance. But Bokuto will not be able to stop laughing at this for at least an entire week.
Desperately scanning around the bathroom brings Tetsurou to a grand total of two options.
Option A, the most appealing option in this situation, is to try and fit himself into the very small window near the ceiling. He could stand on the toilet, maybe quietly and sneakily tear off the bars and then slip away into the night, where he'll find concealer so he can tell everyone that he oh-so-sadly does not possess a soulmate, yes he is so sad, and yes, he will be able to live with it.
Option B is to face it like a man and open the door.
Bokuto's face flashes in his head. Tetsurou shakes his head. Nope. That's not even an option. There's only one option now, actually. He'll just have to hope twelve years of playing volleyball have rendered him strong enough to tear iron bars off their frame.
Just as Tetsurou props both feet on the toilet and starts contemplating how much he'd have to pull to get the bars off the window, someone starts to excitedly rap on the door.
"Ku-roooo!" Bokuto shouts from the other side of the door.
Tetsurou cringes. He's starting to think making Akaashi and Bokuto wait for him outside was a terrible, terrible mistake.
Another round of excited knocking. "Can you see it? Do you need help? Is it in a weird place? Kuroo!"
His gaze drags to the sink and his mind drifts to the handkerchief in his pocket. Yes, maybe he could just waterboard himself. That would be a better option than opening the door.
"In a minute!" Tetsurou shouts, pulling as hard as he can on the bars in the window. Apparently twelve years of playing volleyball religiously does not in fact help him, because the iron bars don't budge in the slightest. Fuck, then!
Squatting on top of the toilet seat, Tetsurou wholeheartedly wishes that the ground would swallow him up whole. Or maybe the toilet could flush him into another dimension. Wouldn't that be nice?
"Kuroo," Akaashi's voice calls, not worried in the slightest. "Are you dead in there?"
I wish, Kuroo thinks.
Okay, but it couldn't be that bad, right? Bokuto's been his closest friend since they met at sixteen! He'd have at least some pity saved in his heart before he laughs his ass to high hell. At least one It's okay bro before he eventually dies of asphyxiation. Bokuto has his moments where he's really emotional mature, however sparse they are.
Thinking of it makes Tetsurou feel better enough to climb off the toilet seat. He stares at the mark again, thinking maybe it's changed since his entire dilemma of whether to escape into the night or man up and open the door.
Go away.
Nope.
With a deep breath, Tetsurou finally slams the door open, uncharacteristically solemn. Bokuto and Akaashi are on the other side, bathed in the flashing lights of Tetsurou's 18th birthday party. Bokuto's excited golden retriever expression pauses at Tetsurou's face.
Tetsurou takes all the steps to close the distance between him and Bokuto. Clapping both hands on Bokuto's shoulders, impact heavy, and he says, in the gravest voice he can muster:
"You will not laugh."
Bokuto nods, eyes widening to the size of saucers. He straightens up immediately, slamming a hand over his heart with a vigorous nod. Akaashi wordlessly snaps a picture from the background.
"I will not laugh." Bokuto repeats, just as solemn.
Tetsurou analyzes his expression for a few seconds before nodding, deeming it earnest enough. He knew Bokuto had his moments, and this was thankfully one of them. He slowly turns his right hand palm-up and shows Bokuto the soulmate mark.
For a moment, all is well. Bokuto is squinting at the text, slightly hindered by all the multicolored, flashing lights. Tetsurou, like an idiot, mistakes it for acceptance and breathes out a sigh of relief.
He can pinpoint the exact moment when Bokuto finally registers what's written on his wrist and eloquently thinks Oh. Shit.
Bokuto gapes for a good five seconds, alternating between staring at the mark and at Tetsurou's very, very solemn expression, before he starts to tear up. He splutters.
Wrong. Wrong. Tetsurou was so goddamn wrong. He can hear sirens wailing in his head as he watches Bokuto's face contort into various — honestly very impressive — shapes just to keep himself from laughing.
Tetsurou decides, at that moment right there, that he is never going to live this down.
"You will not laugh!" Tetsurou repeats, voice raising, nearly shaking.
"Come on," Bokuto pleads, voice pitched. He's already holding his sides. He's going to laugh. Tetsurou should've climbed out the window while he still had the chance. God-fucking-dammit. "How- How can you expect me not to laugh?"
Akaashi pats Bokuto's back as he pushes him to the side, lightly shifting Tetsurou's wrist in order to read the text. He struggles with the low-light as well, slightly longer than Bokuto does, — He should really get glasses, Tetsurou thinks idly — then his face shifts into one of grave pity.
"Ah." Is all Akaashi says.
That response marked the end of Bokuto Koutarou's extremely low threshold for self-control, setting him off into boisterous a fit of laughter, slapping Tetsurou's shoulder repeatedly as he tries to breathe. He seems to be choking more than laughing, and Tetsurou wishes he'd drown on his own air. He can feel veins popping in his neck as he slams Bokuto upside the head. The latter doesn't seem to mind, not once shaken from hysterics.
"You said you wouldn't laugh!" Tetsurou shouts, face burning as he shoves his right hand into his pocket, where that wretched soulmate mark is hidden from the rest of the world.
"It says go away! What did you expect me to do!?"
That earns him another smack upside his head, this time from Akaashi.
-
Akaashi sits across from Tetsurou, unperturbed by the fact that he probably looks like he wants to jump off a fifty-two storey building. Bokuto's been banished to entertain Tetsurou's batty old aunts that always believe his over-the-top re-enactments of volleyball matches. Because of Bokuto, they think volleyball is a sport closer to wrestling than a ball game.
"You know," Akaashi starts, sliding a glass of water across the table. "It's not that bad."
Tetsurou glares at him where he's half lying on the table, view of Akaashi entirely sideways. He grabs the glass, but just places it near his cheek to feel the cold. Akaashi seems to take his silence as a cue to continue.
"The cases of soulmates truly not liking each other at extremely rare. Even then, they're usually compatible in some other way. Maybe you'll get a really capable secretary that diligently assists you in all of your tasks."
Somehow, that makes Tetsurou feel even worse. A really capable secretary? But soulmates are for love! They're supposed to be perfectly matched to you! How in the world would a really capable secretary be Tetsurou's perfect match in life? Even worse, a secretary who's first words to him are go away!
Akaashi seems to gauge his reaction from the look of his face, a brow raising. "It appears that wasn't the best thing to say."
"It appears so. Besides, that's easy for you to say. Your soulmate mark is literally 'Will you marry me.'" Tetsurou remarks snarkily.
Instead of offense, the response brings a small smile to Akaashi's face. He sips on his own glass of water, gaze drifting off into the distance. Tetsurou follows his line of sight.
Bokuto's storytelling is in full swing now, an even larger crowd than just the batty old aunts surrounding him where he's stood on a table. He's too far away to hear exactly what he's saying, but his excited tone can be seen just from the way he moves. His shoulders and his arms, broad and waving around every time he wants to exaggerate a specific action; his face, absolutely delighted and thriving in the crowd of everyone listening to what he's saying, contorting into different expressions to mimic the ones of the people in his story; his laugh — loud enough to reach even the far off booth where he and Akaashi are sitting.
It's a sight that's grown comforting and familiar to Tetsurou, so he doesn't need to linger long, returning his attention to his current company.
However, he finds that Akaashi's gaze remains unwavering, still glued onto Bokuto in the distance. Tetsurou watches the way a soft smile settles on his lips, the edges of his eyes crinkling with mirth. Akaashi looks at Bokuto like he hung the moon and stars in the sky; all reverent and adoring.
This, Tetsurou thinks. This is what I want. I want to look at someone like that. I want someone to look at me like that.
"Yeah," Akaashi says softly, as if coming back to himself. Even then, it takes a moment for his gaze to come back to Tetsurou, instead shifting to stare at his own soulmate mark for a second. It's on his forearm, where Bokuto had grabbed it to catch his attention way back in elementary. "I suppose it was easier for us."
Tetsurou stares at the lovestruck expression on Akaashi's face, decides that he absolutely hates couples, and throws a stray tissue at the other man.
Akaashi's nose wrinkles in disgust as it lands just short of his hand, sending Tetsurou a nasty look. He grins. Akaashi continues.
"I doubt your soulmate will hate you. Nor will they just be a capable secretary."
Tetsurou is brought back to his situation with the words. He lifts his head off the table, half of his face damp from the condensation of the glass of water. Once he's stopped lying on his wrist, the words 'Go away' start staring at him again. All the different situations he might meet his soulmate in flash in his head. In an old, smelly alley, where Tetsurou grabs someone after he's unexpectedly turned into a washed-up old delinquent. Flash. He grabs someone in the cafeteria by accident, thinking it was one of his friends. Flash. He's a... police, for some reason, and he's arresting his soulmate. Flash.
He shakes his head, bringing him back to the present. Akaashi looks so sure of himself that Tetsurou falters.
"How would you know?" he asks, voice suddenly smaller than he'd like to admit.
Akaashi smiles like he's won something secret, then covers it quickly with a sip of water.
"I just do."
Tetsurou doesn't believe it, but the wholehearted assurance in Akaashi's expression stops him from saying anything else.
-
Despite the assurances from Akaashi and the repeated apologies from Bokuto for laughing, Tetsurou decides upon better judgement to pretend his soulmate mark is in a weird place. He'll just start wearing an wristband, that's all. It's not even out of character for him to suddenly get the urge to change his wardrobe. No one would bat an eye if he added an wristband.
Life picks back up as it always has. Tetsurou continues doing well in his studies, goes to volleyball practice after every lecture, hangs out with his friends, becomes the captain of his college's volleyball team, and the soulmate mark etched into his wrist all but disappears from the forefront of his mind. Soon enough, the year is over. He's singing Christmas carols with his friends and preparing the New Year's eve with his dad. The armband stays on his wrist, and Tetsurou finds that he doesn't quite mind the fact that his soulmate doesn't seem to be appearing anytime soon. The world keeps spinning.
-
"Captain!"
Tetsurou blinks, then softens into a smile once he sees Yaku waving him over to the bench. The court is busy today, bubbling with the anxiety of first years standing line after line for the position they want to try out for. Yaku seems to have organized them by position already, to which he's thankful.
"So," Tetsurou starts, plopping down on the bench next to Yaku. He can see some of the first years straight up when they notice him, bringing a small smile to his lips. It's always funny to see the first years get antsy. "We need a setter. We're horribly missing a setter. I'll miss Watanabi-san's extra high-precision sets for the rest of my life. That's our priority today. Then any other natural talent comes after, right Yakkun?"
"Yes," Yaku hums, before scowling. He flicks Tetsurou's forehead. Which, ow. Uncalled for.
"Get that smirk off your face."
"I'm smiling!"
He's only met with an unimpressed look. Tetsurou barks out a laugh before getting to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. A quick scan around the court tells him that the first years have started paying more attention now that he's actually stood up. For extra scare measure, he puts on the smile that Yaku always tells him looks like 'a god-awful smirk' and cracks his knuckles. He's quite sure that a few kids actually flinch.
Beaming, Tetsurou steps onto the court.
"Let's get this party started."
-
"Thank you to all of you! I'll post the results on the bulletin board in two weeks!"
Tetsurou keeps the smile on his face until every kid has evacuated the court, and even further until he sits down on the bench next to Yaku. Quite the contrary, Yaku looks a hell of a lot like how Tetsurou feels on the inside; dead-tired and nearly ready to blow up. There's a few more moments where Tetsurou's expression stays solid, before it drops and he buries his face in his hands. He already had a sneaking suspicion when he saw the lineup for the setters, but he was hoping that appearances were deceiving. You'd never know!
"All..." he whispers in despair. "All the..."
He can't even finish his sentence. That's how bad the situation was.
Yaku doesn't even have the energy to look at him anymore. He's just staring emptily at the other side of the court, expression terribly ashen. Tetsurou is sure that if Kai wasn't down with a nasty-ass fever today, he'd been as depressed as the two of them. He'd probably have fainted in the middle of tryouts then and there.
With a deep sigh, Yaku slides off the bench to lie on the floor. He stares at the overhead lights so grimly that Tetsurou thinks he might be trying to burn his eyes out.
"All the setters were so shit." Yaku finally says.
Tetsurou nods, just as grim. He slides down to lie next to Yaku. Maybe he can try to burn his eyes out. Nearly three hours of watching various first years push the ball instead of setting, be physically incapable of doing the proper positioning for a set, and some even going as far as rage-quitting from tryouts because they couldn't do it, has taken a massive toll on Tetsurou's lifespan. He thinks he's going to die at thirty, actually. What was supposed to be a time period where they picked out setters became a time period where they attempted to teach a bunch of stone-handed first years how to set. Tetsurou's so sure that if he checks his hair in the locker room mirrors, he'll have sprouted at least a handful of grey hairs.
"We'll just have to pick the lesser evil," Tetsurou tells him grimly. "Either we pick the least shit first year, or I learn how to set and we just get another middle blocker."
Yaku smacks him without even turning to look at him. Ouch, but impressive.
"No. You'd be a shittier setter than all of the first years combined."
Begrudgingly, Yaku sits up. He stares at the overhead lights a little longingly for a few more seconds before hoisting both of them off the court. "Come on. Karasuno's visiting today. We have two weeks to decide, anyways."
Tetsurou gives him a hum of acknowledgement, then they head up to mop the court floors.
-
"A lap of diving drills!"
Tetsurou bursts into laughter as he watches Karasuno dutifully perform the same drills they've been doing since highschool. The younger ones, like Chibi-chan and Kageyama are exempted, since they only tagged along to watch their seniors play. Tsukki, as expected, is nowhere to be found in the court.
Hinata bounces up to approach Tetsurou, eyes shining as he watches his team. Kageyama follows suit, face as unreadable as always.
"Man," Hinata sighs. "I'm so excited to join the college team next year. Then we can play Karasuno and Nekoma like old times!"
Kageyama nods. "Yeah. That would be good."
Tetsurou smiles, reaching over to roughly ruffle both of their hairs. It's endearing how much Hinata's eyes shine when he talks about volleyball. He idly wishes he'd find a setter with as much love in their heart for volleyball as Karasuno's dynamic duo.
"I'll be sure to block all your spikes." Tetsurou hums, ushering them over to the bench where all the bottles are; close to the gym's exit.
They sit, they chat about training while they've been apart, wonder about the Nationals this year, and occasionally talk about the other teams back in Miyagi. Ask about the team, lament about Tetsurou's predicament of not being able to find a setter, ask about college, ask about lessons, ask about growing up, ask about—
"Oh! Have you found your soulmate yet, Kuro?"
Tetsurou freezes, suddenly painfully aware of the wristband that he wears. Has it slipped down? A quick glance tells him no, but he crosses his arms and shoves his hands into his sides for good measure. He laughs, waving with the hand that doesn't have that damn mark. The world keeps turning, and Tetsurou will not avoid this question.
"Nah, not yet. They'll come around when it's time." he tells them easily.
"That's wise," Hinata nods like he's just given him the answers to the universe, suddenly seeming uncharacteristically thoughtful. "I wonder who my soulmate will be."
The conversation continues about soulmates only skims the most surface level things. It makes sense, given that Hinata and Kageyama aren't in college yet. The two of them argue about a lot of things while talking about soulmates, but Tetsurou can tell none of them actually mean what they're saying. Despite all the 'Stupid Hinata, stupid!'s and Bakageyamas being thrown around, he can spot the shine in Kageyama's eyes when he thinks Hinata isn't looking.
Tetsurou smiles into his bottle. It seems Hinata's soulmate is closer than he might think.
Ping!
Hinata blinks. "Oh?"
He fishes his phone out of his pocket — which, considering he was just playing volleyball, might not have been a good place to keep his phone — and immediately stands, his entire face lighting up. "Oh! Kenma's looking for us!"
Kageyama blinks, face souring a little at the name, before he shakes his head. "Tell him we're in the gym."
"He hates being in the court though. Hold on, let me answer him."
Hinata paces around the bench about ten times as he's texting this supposed 'Kenma', a big smile on his face and his thumbs moving at lightning speed. Kageyama, on the other hand, stays firmly seated, staring at the wooden floorboards so intensely he might burn a hole into it. It's the same face he makes when he doesn't exact his usually perfect sets. Tetsurou grins, teeth sharp.
"So who's this Kenma person?" Tetsurou asks. There's no harm in poking a little bit at Karasuno's setter!
"Stupid Hinata's friend," Kageyama mutters, barely even audible. He roughly scuffs his sneaker against the waxed floors and Tetsurou winces a little at the loud squeaking noise.
Kageyama mumbles an apology.
"He goes here."
Gauging from the murderous expression on Kageyama's face and Hinata seeming to have no plans of sitting back down until he's finished talking to this Kenma person, Tetsurou decides that he won't be able to get anymore answers from the Karasuno setters. He sighs instead surveys the gym.
It seems that Karasuno's just finished their laps of diving drills, but based on the way everyone is standing around idly, the aftermath of their loss has seemed to turn into an impromptu breaktime. It honestly warms his heart to see his teammates and Karasuno catching up to each other; they've grown a lot closer over the years. A lot of them have decided to pepper between teams, even the newest Karasuno team members, chatting happily as they do. Tetsurou's glad that—
A ball flies past Tetsurou's face, just nearly missing his ear. Somewhere in the distance, he can hear the doors slam open then close again.
Ah.
Huh?
"Sorry!" Daichi calls from across the court, waving where he's peppering with Azumane. He starts to jog over, but Tetsurou shoos him off with one hand.
"I'll get it!"
Azumane's spike seemed to have hit harder than he meant to, sending the ball straight out of the gym doors. Tetsurou heads to the direction of the gym doors, but gets distracted chatting with various people on the way. Before he knows it, it's been at least ten minutes before he finally goes to retrieve the ball open. Tetsurou pushes the gym doors open to find...
"Nothing?"
Tetsurou stares at the empty hallway. It's way past the normal school hours for this building, so it wouldn't have been confiscated by a teacher, or taken by a student.
Shit.
Nekomata-sensei is so going to kill him for losing another ball. If he recalls correctly, it was one of the extra-good quality Mikasa ones; the ones they use when they're having practice matches against other schools.
"It's over," he murmurs to himself grimly, speeding past the hallways in hopes that the ball just rolled into one of the other classrooms. He can already hear the lecture he'll have to sit through ringing in his ears.
But alas, twenty minutes of searching for the ball amount to nothing. Rounding all the hallways in the entire first floor building, even the places where it would be impossible for the ball to roll into, leaves Tetsurou a dejected mess. He's honestly resigned to the lecture that he's going to get now. Maybe he'll drop by a sports store to get a new ball, even if the Mikasa ones are a tad bit pricey.
Just as he rounds the corner back to the gym, he hears it. It's faint, but pausing to actually listen confirms Tetsurou's suspicion.
It's a dull thmp somewhere outside, the sound repeating systematically. The intervals between each sound are perfectly equal. It sounds like the drills that Watanabi-san liked to do around the court before he graduated, setting the ball repeatedly over his head with demon-precision. Even then, the sound of Watanabi-san's ball contact didn't compare to this one.
Curiosity overtakes Tetsurou, bringing him to the outdoor field. He didn't think to check outside, considering all the glass doors were slid shut, but then he sees it.
There's a boy standing near the benches, back to him, setting what seems to be the ball that Tetsurou was looking for over his head. Every set is at the same height; around two balls over the boy's forehead. His hair is dyed blonde, black roots peeking out from the top of his head.
Thmp. Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.
He is... so much better than the first years that tried out earlier.
Tetsurou leans against the metal doorframe. An eternity seems to pass by as he watches the boy set, over and over again. Every so often, he'll switch it up and set a little higher or a little lower, sometimes alternating. Often, the boy would sit back on the bench to play with his phone, before going back to setting.
It takes what feels like an entire century before the boy finally rests against the wall, sliding down until he's sitting against it. For the first time, Tetsurou sees his face.
His cheeks are red from exertion and his eyes are closed, head leant back against the wall. There's a small, discontent frown on his face, and he seems tired. Tetsurou wonders why he kept setting if it made him this discontent.
Without opening his eyes, the boy grabs his phone. He draws his legs to his chest and starts playing, a curtain of hair falling and obscuring his face from Tetsurou's view again. The boy's hand momentarily goes to his own ears, then slips back onto his phone.
Tetsurou promptly slaps himself. Nope. That's weird. He's a stranger. A stranger in... a Nekoma uniform. Specifically, the uniform for college.
A lightbulb goes off in Tetsurou's head, and he approaches the boy as quietly as he can. Strangely, there's no game sounds at all. It's completely silent, save for the tapping of the boy's fingernails against his screen as he plays. It seems to be some turn-based fantasy game.
"Hello!" Tetsurou calls out in his friendliest voice, stopping a few feet away from the boy.
No answer. Tap. Tap. Tap. The boy keeps playing.
Tetsurou squints. Through the small gaps in the boy's hair, there seem to be earbuds in his hears. Ah. Darn.
He shuffles a little closer, reaching out to tap the boy's shoulder. At that moment, the boy decides to look up. He jolts, startled, whipping up to stare at his unexpected company. Tetsurou finds himself frozen in place as he's caught by a pair of golden eyes. They're sharp, almost cat-like in shape. He's...
He's pretty.
Tetsurou stammers, caught extremely off guard. He's so pretty. What the fuck. What the fuck, even. Dammit, Tetsurou, say something!
"Will you be my setter?" he blurts out.
My setter. MY! What the fuck, Tetsurou. It's over now.
There's a clatter. One of the boy's earbuds fell out. He gapes.
"Ah." Tetsurou moves his hand, intending to draw it back, but just as it moves the boy seems to flinch by instinct, hand reaching up to slap his away and—
Oh.
In less than a second, the entire world seems to brighten. A rush of wind passes by, the feeling cool on his skin. Tetsurou watches, mesmerized, as the draft carries a leaf to the boy's hair. There's too much air in his lungs and Tersurou feels so, so full. His wrist is burning and he can register the words etched on his skin burn a bright gold even behind the wristband. The boy's knuckles burn the same vibrant color, muted by what seems to be concealer.
The boy opens and closes his mouth, before letting out a small, nearly imperceptible sound. "Go away."
Tetsurou isn't as devastated as he thought he would be. He is so, so underprepared for this moment, but not in the way he expected to be. This is his soulmate? This pretty, soft-spoken boy? This is the person he's destined to spend the rest of his life with? He might as well just start crying tears of joy right then and there.
"I'm Kuroo," he stammers out, wrist still burning.
The boy shakes his head, gathering up his things and shoving the ball in his hands before starting to run at full speed. Wait. Wait what?
"Where are you going!?" Tetsurou shouts, eyes wide as he starts to run after him. Even running feels refreshing; each breath entering his lungs feeling cool against his chest. Despite it all, he can feel a smile blooming on his cheeks.
"I'm Kuroo Tetsurou! I'm a second year! What's your name?" he tries again, trying to catch up to the boy's startlingly fast pace.
No response. He doesn't mind, though. Something warm blooms just behind Tetsurou’a ribs.