Tadashi threw himself into volleyball.

It wasn't that things at home were bad. In fact, just days after coming out, things were more or less back to normal. They spoke about the usual day-to-day things and got on with their lives like nothing had changed. His mother brought him tea when she thought he was studying too hard. She asked him how school was going. How volleyball was going. How Tsukki was going. Hell, she even asked how Taiga was going.

It'd be perfect but for the fact she still hadn't cried.

Not once. About anything.

Going on a week since he'd come out to her and it was like he'd shut off her faucet of feelings that was usually on full-gush. It bothered him. Every day a little more desperate to see her cry. And that, itself, made him feel guilty. What sort of son wished that on his mother?

It was a mess. But a subtle mess. The kind you couldn't complain about, because on the surface everything was fine. And so, until something changed at home, volleyball was all he thought about.

And that was plenty enough.

At the beginning of October, just days before the Spring High representative playoffs, the team packed into a bus to attend the final Tokyo training camp of the year. Tadashi's gym bag was filled with real gym clothes for an actual training camp, this time. Without Taiga here, though, he doubted he'd have as much fun as he did on their fake one. Especially not at night.

The days went by quickly—filled with practice games and drills and penalty sprints—and the nights were taken up with endless serve practice. Tadashi liked the nights, when there were no school divisions and everyone could hang out together. He made friends with a couple of the players from Ubugawa high, who taught him some tricks about jump serves to increase his angle and power.

And then there was Nekoma.

The only volleyball team in Japan that might be even weirder than Karasuno.

"Daichi, have you asked that girl out yet? Your volleyball captain girl?"

Tadashi froze mid-sip of his iced tea and stared at the tall, smirking boy who'd asked the question.

Kuroo.

Captain of Nekoma volleyball club—Karasuno's destined rivals—and Daichi's social equal. Whenever they came to one of these training camps in Tokyo, you could always count on Kuroo to liven up the conversation. Apart from Suga, he was the only person Tadashi had ever known brave enough to tease Daichi.

Daichi smiled with narrowed eyes.

"Come on," he said. "Her name is Yui, and we talked about this. She's just a friend."

Tadashi kept his lips wrapped around the straw of his drink and said nothing. Maybe this was the wrong dinner table to sit at. Most of the others were full, though, and Tsukki had—until moments ago, when he'd excused himself to bed early—been sitting opposite him. Daichi and Kuroo took up the next set of facing chairs. Hinata and Kenma, Nekoma's setter, were at the end of the table.

"Eh?" Kuroo said, tilting his head so his bizarre dark fringe covered one eye. "I guess that's why you're always grinning like a lovelorn teenager when you talk about her."

"We are teenagers, Kuroo. Everyone here is a teenager."

"Not everyone's lovelorn, though."

Daichi folded his arms.

"Oh, really? You aren't going to count Tanaka, Nishinoya and Yamamoto? They literally call themselves the Kiyoko Defense Squad. They spend as much time drooling over her as they do training for the Spring Tournament."

Kuroo blew his fringe aside with a dismissive pffft.

"That's schoolboy crush nonsense," he said. "You're something different."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Kuroo said, smirking. "You're besotted."

Tadashi couldn't help it. He snort-laughed through his straw, and the bubbles slurped about inside the waxy box. Daichi looked at him like he'd just run over an entire box of kittens. Like he'd stabbed him so hard through the back, the knife had come bursting through his front.

"See!" Kuroo said. "Even your underclassmen know it."

Tadashi coughed into his hand, pretending like he was choking on his tea. He wondered if he could just keep coughing until it was time to go to bed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom and just keep running until he made it back to Miyagi. That'd give him a good few days to go into hiding so that Daichi could never find and murder him.

"Anyway, how can you be sure I'm the only one?" Daichi said, finally dragging his eyes off of Tadashi and back to Kuroo. "What about you, big cat? How's your love life?

And as soon as Daichi turned the conversation back on Kuroo, Tadashi got a feeling in his gut. A little suspicious twinge that told him he'd better prepare himself, because he knew where this conversation was going. Brace yourself, Tadashi.

This was lad talk. Everyone was talking about girls, and girlfriends, and love lives. If the conversation broke away from just Daichi and Kuroo, it might make it's way around the table to him, too. And if that happened, he'd be ready.

He took a deep breath and set himself.

I'm one of the lads, too.

Kuroo pressed a hand to his chest.

"Sadly, I am far too focused on my studies and volleyball to think about on the fairer sex. Or sex in general."

"Ugh," Kenma said.

"Well," Daichi said. "What about your underclassmen?"

"Kenma?" Kuroo said. "Daichi, you can see me sitting here alive, can't you? That means I haven't had the fatal heart attack that would definitely come with any announcement Kenma was seeing somebody."

"Kuroo, stop," Kenma said.

He didn't look up from his videogame, and Tadashi could see the way he tried not to squirm. He liked Kenma. He was a quiet guy, and hated drawing attention to himself. He understood that want to be left alone, to keep away from prying eyes. Kenma was the kind of guy he could happily sit quietly by for days on end.

"Well," Kuroo said, turning his gaze to Hinata. "How about you, shrimpy? Are you going to swoop in and save your captain by proving he's not the only one here tragically in love?"

Hinata sat bolt upright.

"Me?" he said. "Nobody likes me."

"Oh, pessimist," Kuroo said. "I'm sure someone does."

Kenma shifted his chin barely a fraction of a centimeter, looking at Hinata from beneath his cascade of peroxide-blond hair. Daichi turned to him, too.

"You don't have your eye on any girls?" Daichi said.

Hinata looked confused.

"I guess...I like Yachi and Shimizu?"

"Oh?" Daichi said.

"Yeah," Hinata said. "Because they let me talk about volleyball all the time! They don't look bored like most other people do."

"Oh." Daichi's face fell.

Kuroo laughed.

"The boy's in love with Lady Volleyball," he said. "Aren't we all? Well, Daichi, only one left to save you now."

Kuroo's gaze fell on Tadashi.

He felt his heart pop inside his chest.

This was it.

"How about it, Freckles?" Kuroo never called him Yamaguchi. "Can you rescue your captain from having to admit I'm right?"

Daichi's head snapped around to meet Tadashi's eyes, and it was written all over his face. Oh crap, he was thinking. Why didn't I see this coming before now?

"Fine, Kuroo," Daichi said, holding up a hand. Tadashi could see it in Daichi's posture and hear it dripping from his voice—self-sacrifice. He'd turned himself into a human shield, like Tsukki had done over and over at the Jazz Festival. "You win."

Usually about now, fear and nervousness would be trying to clamp down on every impulse Tadashi had to speak. He'd be clamming up, scrambling for something to deflect with. Trying to come up with a story that made him look pathetic so Kuroo would feel too much pity to press for more details.

Not this time, though.

This time, the words were rushing up from deep-down.

He was about to—for the first time in his life, ever—show off.

"Well, actually..." he said.

Kuroo's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh ho?"

Daichi watched him carefully. So did Hinata.

Kenma's face was still buried in his DS.

I'm one of the lads, too.

"I started seeing someone about four months ago," Tadashi said. He didn't give himself a chance to chicken out. "Taiga. Nishinoya's cousin. He's a musician."

The two cats at the table stared at him. Tadashi heard the screams as Kenma's character died in-game.

"He?" Kuroo said. "Did you mix up your pronouns or are you actually dating a guy?"

"The...second one?" Tadashi said.

He could see Daichi trying to look in every direction at once—to keep an eye on Tadashi to make sure he was okay, and to monitor how Kuroo and Kenma were reacting to the news. But Tadashi had a feeling that the more defensive he was—the more serious he was—the worse the conversation would go.

That wasn't how lads did it.

Lads put on a smile, and turned everything into a joke.

"Seriously?" Kuroo said.

"Seriously," Tadashi said, grinning his new-and-improved Yamaguchi grin. "I'm really sorry, looks like you aren't as good at spotting the besotted ones as you think!"

For one nervous second, nobody made a sound. Kuroo's face was frozen in a hard-to-read way, and Kenma was looking at him with his least-bored expression. An expression he usually reserved for videogames, or conversations with Hinata.

Then Kuroo threw his head back and let go a proper laugh.

Right from his belly, loud and hearty.

"Daichi," he said through huffs. "I stand corrected!"

Daichi sent Tadashi a tiny wink—a wordless THANK YOU!—and Tadashi never felt so satisfied. His captain thought he was leaping in front of a bullet, only to have his underclassman save the day.

"See, Kuroo?" Daichi said. "You can't read everyone like you can read a block."

"Apparently not," Kuroo said. "Well, I'm glad at least someone here is seeing some action on the dating scene. Nice work, Freckles. First Oikawa, now you, huh? Who knew volleyball was so...modern?"

"Kuroo," Kenma said, turning back to his game. "Shut up."

"What?" Kuroo said. "I mean it. I think it's great."

Tadashi snorted and shrugged.

"Well it's great for me, anyway."

Kuroo laughed again.

"Hey, Freckles, maybe you can give your captain some dating tips, then? Convince him to stop being such a chicken."

"Oh, any time," Tadashi said, turning his smile on Daichi. "But I mean...I'm not a miracle worker."

Kuroo's laugh was a lion's roar. Daichi reached over and ruffled the hair on the back of Tadashi's head.

"Ah, Yamaguchi," he said, deadly grin plastered across his face. "An extra five laps of diving drills tomorrow. Just for you."

Tadashi hung his head, but couldn't stop smiling.

The extra drills were worth it.

He was one of the lads, too.

Tadashi almost made it back to the first years' bunk room when the tiny little voice snagged him.

"Yamaguchi?"

Tadashi spun to his left and found Kenma, eyes down and hands in his pockets. His hair looked like a two-tone blond and black mop perched on top of his slouched frame, all wrapped up in his red Nekoma jacket.

"K...Kenma?" he said.

Now that he said it out loud, he was sure it was the first time he'd actually used the boy's name. It was definitely the first one-on-one conversation they'd ever had.

"Yeah," Kenma said. "Do you have a minute? To … talk or whatever? It's fine if it's too late."

Kenma's voice was lower than usual. It was almost a whisper, slightly croaky...like he'd been yelling for a few hours, which was impossible. Kenma didn't yell. Something wasn't right, and it set off a bizarre protective instinct in Tadashi's brain. He didn't care how late it was. It could be four AM, and Kenma could have shaken him from a deep sleep. He'd still tell him it was fine.

"Sure, of course," Tadashi said, throwing a look over his shoulder. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Um, somewhere else?" Kenma said. "Just...away."

"Yeah," Tadashi said. "Let's go."

Kenma led him to a stairwell, and they climbed all the way to the top. Nekoma High School was almost completely dark save for the eerie moonlight that flooded through big, open windows on the right side of the corridor. It made Kenma look more pale than usual. A shimmering, shy ghost.

The further they walked, the more worried Tadashi got.

What on Earth could need this amount of privacy?

When they reached an opened classroom door, Kenma ducked inside. The tables and chairs were all empty, spooky in the utterly quiet night. Kenma sat, cross-legged, at the front of the room, and Tadashi followed suit.

How close were you supposed to sit in a situation like this? In a we've never talked before, but I must speak to you immediately and alone situation? Should he have shut the door on his way in? Was this even appropriate, disappearing to an empty classroom with a kid he hardly knew?

"Sorry," Kenma said, head still down. "I prefer the quiet, and I'm not very good at this kind of thing. Talking to people and...stuff."

"It's fine," Tadashi said.

"I'm sorry about Kuroo," Kenma said. "At dinner. He's just...outgoing."

Tadashi laughed.

Was that what this was about?

"Oh, no, it's okay. It's good, actually. I was sort of looking for a chance to bring it up. I want to get more comfortable talking about it, you know? And he gave me the perfect opportunity."

"Oh, okay," Kenma said. "So in that case, would it be all right if I ask you some questions?"

Tadashi thought back to dinner time. To the way Kenma had looked at him when he'd casually dropped Taiga into the conversation. Realistically, there was only one thing these questions could be about. They sure as hell wouldn't be about jump-float serves.

But Kenma wasn't the kind of guy who'd open up if he started interrogating him. He reminded Tadashi of himself half a year ago. This wasn't the kind of conversation where Tadashi tried to drag explanations out of Kenma.

Kenma wanted answers, not a discussion.

"Yeah, of course," Tadashi said. "I'll answer anything you like."

"Thank you," Kenma said.

And he went quiet for a minute.

It was just their breathing in the deathly-quiet classroom.

Then, all at once...bam. Tadashi was hit by Deja Vu. He knew this quiet. Two boys sitting opposite one another. Thick, awkward atmosphere between them and hearts beating like jackhammers.

It was exactly like that day on the rooftop, when he'd first come out to Tsukki.

"Does all Karasuno know you're...gay?" Kenma said.

Tadashi felt his heart skip when Kenma whispered the word.

"The team does," Tadashi said. He kept his answers short. "And I think Coach Ukai and my serve coach, too. Maybe some others if Taiga's told them."

"Ah," Kenma said.

More quiet, then:

"Anybody else?"

And Tadashi snorted a quiet laugh.

"Actually, yeah. Oikawa. Seijoh's captain. He knows because I went to see him last month. We had this whole...thing to try and sort out. It's complicated. But yeah, he knows. So do my parents."

"Ah," Kenma said again. "How did they react?"

"My parents?"

"Everyone."

Tadashi thought about it.

"Tsukki—Kuroo knows Tsukki, right? Tall blond with glasses?—he's my closest friend and he already knew. He's been amazing. He listened to me drone on and on about all my problems and helped me ask out Taiga. Then Taiga helped me when I came out to the team. We sort of sprung that one on them all at once. See, Taiga thought he'd come second in this music festival competition, but actually he'd come first and..."

Tadashi could see Kenma's bewildered eyes, and chuckled.

"Well, it's a long story. But we kissed each other, right in front of everyone. And they were all so good about it. Half of them had guessed already. That made it kind of easy.

"My parents, well. It's been okay. My dad reacted way better than I expected, and my mom..."

He hadn't said this out loud to anyone but Taiga.

Mentioning her made his throat tighten up, but he refused to let Kenma hear it.

"She'll get there, I think. She's fine about it, but I don't know if she's really used to the idea. It's hard to explain I guess."

"Oh," Kenma said.

The quiet settled over them again, and Tadashi's brain had nowhere to go except back home. He wondered if his mother was crying yet—maybe now that he wasn't there. Wondered whether he should send her a text, even though she'd be well asleep by now.

"Is it hard?" Kenma said.

"Hard?"

"Being...out. Is it difficult?"

Tadashi snorted.

He didn't think about it too hard. He just let the words out.

"It can be. Sometimes. But honestly, so was being in. I guess it depends on how you look at it. I don't have to work as hard any more when I talk about the things I like. I don't have to filter everything in case I say the wrong thing. I don't have to keep my phone hidden in case someone sees my music and decides it's kinda gay. Like...that's something I legitimately thought could happen before. Ridiculous, right? But it's the sort of thing that goes around in your head. I don't miss the paranoia of it."

"Makes sense," Kenma said.

The cycle of questions and quiet kept up for a while longer. Kenma would fiddle with his jacket zipper for a while, then ask something else, then lapse back into distraction while he thought up the next question. Tadashi answered as best he could and never demanded to know why. He did most of the talking. Kenma listened. And for the second time that night, he was hit by a wave of Deja Vu.

This time, it was the youth center in Sendai.

He felt like he was right back in that conference room with Oikawa. Except this time, the roles were reversed. He was the one who'd been sought out. He was the one with the answers, and the experience, and the confidence to talk about it.

Kenma had come to him for advice.

He was a veteran homosexual now.

Talking casually about his boyfriend with the lads. Out to his team. Out to his parents. Answering big, tricky questions about what it was like to come out, and how life was different now he'd done it...

This must be what Oikawa felt like all the time.

Half an hour later—almost midnight—Kenma ran out of questions. He never offered any hints about why he'd asked, or asked any questions specifically about himself. Tadashi didn't need to know. They said goodbye the same way they would if they'd bumped into one another at a supermarket, and left it at that.

They both snuck back to their bunk rooms, and Tadashi slid into the bedroll beside Tsukkis. His phone was still under his pillow, and he tucked himself beneath his blanket so the light wouldn't wake anyone. He brought up the messages screen and tapped Oikawa's name.

You'll never guess what just happened.

/

/

Search for this story on AO3 for the more up to date and illustrated version, haha.