Yaku was not a pessimist.
He wasn't exactly an optimist. But he definitely wasn't a pessimist. He managed to surpass the height complex he'd had at fifteen, so, no, definitely not 100% Mr. Downer.
Yaku just didn't understand why everyone else thought he was.
-O-
Maybe it started with the nickname.
Lev's nickname. That he sort-of-kind-of brought about not on purpose but not completely innocently, either.
Yaku's not sure how everyone took the nickname to mean that he had a negative attitude towards his height. The only ones who knew it had ever bothered him in the first place were Kuro and those unlucky first years that had tried to see if he'd let it slide when they poked fun at his shorter-than-them stature.
(Yes, he was allowed to ride the big rollercoasters at amusement parks, for christ's sake.)
Despite that, Yaku found that everything happening now still seemed to start with that god damn nickname.
-O-
"Lev, I think that's the best recieve I've ever seen you do."
"Really?!"
"No. Bend your legs and lean more forward."
"Wahh...Yaku, don't say mean things like that."
Yaku crossed his arms and spared a glance to the gym clock. Practice would be over in ten minutes and this giraffe needed to get it right at least once.
"Let's do a few mo-" Lev's attention had wandered to the spiking practice going on a feet away. Yaku sighed and snapped his fingers in front of the first year's face (thank god his knees were still bent, or Yaku would have had to stretch to reach).
"Oi! Legs for Miles, practice is right here."
And, okay, Yaku could see that maybe he'd said it pretty loud, but the sudden lull in balls hitting the hardwood floor was probably why it echoed. And why the Nekoma team stopped and directed their attention to the duo.
(Really, the entire team knew that watching the goings-on between Yaku and Lev was golden.)
In front of him, Lev guffawed and straightened up. "Legs for mil-"
"If you make the next one good we'll end practice."
-O-
The second time he said it, he didn't even need to see his face to know it was Lev.
Yaku was late-not detention-for-the-rest-of-the-month late, but very-sorry-sensei-won't-ever-happen-again late. So him making a mad dash for his classroom was understandable.
What was not understandable (at the time, anyway) was charging through the front doors of the school and colliding with a fucking wall.
Yaku's eyes started from the ground-shoes, pants...pants...more pants. Legs that went on forever before he was looking up at a gaping Lev.
"Watch it, Legs for Miles."
And then he was off.
-O-
The third time it was very much on purpose.
The first year just talked and talked and talked sometimes and any other day Yaku would suffer (listen) and any other day he'd sit there looking annoyed (endeared). But today was not like those days.
"And then after that, I was fighting this one guy, right? It wasn't a boss but it was-"
Yaku could hear whispers from a nearby group of girls.
("That's a first year? The tall one? And the shorter one's the third year? Pfft! Lame.")
"Lev," Yaku interrupted. "I think Kenma would understand this more than I do."
("Yeah, can you believe he's in the volleyball club? He must be the towel boy. Helps out the manager.)
"But, Yaku, listen, it was so cool and-!"
("And the taller one's bent, like, at the waist so their faces are on the same level. How are they even friends?")
"Lev. Shut up."
"I..."
Yaku could see the hurt in his eyes-could hear the whispers stop, and what replaced it was the rushing in his ears from that look.
"Oi, Legs for Miles." Yaku says it fondly, delicately, to let the first year who looks like he's on the verge of tears know that he won't apologize but please, stop making that sad face at me. "Let's go eat lunch somewhere."
-O-
And maybe Yaku wasn't completely over his height complex.
(Fuck, did that mean he was a pessimist?)
-O-
After that, it becomes habit, and-as much as Yaku doesn't want to admit it-it's become their thing.
The day that Yaku acknowledges it as their thing (albeit not verbally) was the day that Nekoma won their way to nationals the second year in a row. Lev was a third year, Yaku in his second year of college and still a solid libero for a high end team. He was only there in the first place because the tournament was close to his campus.
(It was not because he missed the idiot giraffe.)
They're walking up the steps to the convention center (back from getting snacks from a convenience store a few blocks away) when Yaku sees Lev stop out of the corner of his eye. When he turns to ask why, Yaku notices two things.
Lev is looking at him very strangely.
Yaku is looking directly into the second year's face.
He may notice that Lev's eyes are much greener from this angle than from the one he usually has. But he tries to ignore that.
"What are you doing?"
Lev visibly tenses. "Uh. So, see, I was gonna, uh, well. I was gonna kiss you. Just now. Thought about it. Since we're the same height. On stairs. And I wouldn't have to, uh, bend down so much...but I think I'm backing out of it now."
Yaku stares. Opens his mouth. Stares. Closes his mouth. Breathes calmly through his nose.
"Well," he starts, watching Lev fidget with the plastic bag in his hands. "If you didn't have legs for fucking miles, we wouldn't have this problem."
And, see, he was not a pessimist, he leaned down-down, he, Yaku Morisuke, leaned down-and kissed the third year.
