A/N: It's here!

I think there's a lot of useless info in this, I apologise a lot. Plus my writing seems to deteriorate the more I write, sorry about that as well.

I've found a place to cut it so that the chapter containing the rest of the day will be a good enough length for me to consider it as a proper chapter. It won't be as long as this you might be pleased (or not so pleased, depending) to know, but it should be an okay length so you don't feel as irritated when it ends.

In regards to when this takes place, I've decided it'll be after the Inter-High, pretty soon before the training camp with Nekoma and Fukurodani. What happens there'll have nothing to do with the canon storyline. As a matter of fact, neither will anything after it, really. Everything'll just totally diverge. Nothing that really happens in the main story will be covered in this fic at all, ahah.

I also need to thank my friend, Teide, for proof reading and helping me sort through ideas! Actually, she helped me with the first chapter as well and I forgot to say...

ALSO. Thank you so much for all the review and the favourites and the follows! I've never gotten so much attention for a first chapter before (and to be honest, it's not even that much attention compared to other fics out there). I'll try hard not to disappoint you all, ahah.

Tsukishima wakes up like usual. He gets changed like usual. He gets his stuff ready like usual. But though he washes his face and brushes his teeth like usual, he doesn't have breakfast like usual. The eerie silence of the Tsukishima household makes it clear to the blonde that his appetite still isn't present—that it still hasn't returned to him. It never ran rampant in the first place, but at least he used to be able to hear it in this house of his; completely unlike now. The house is silent, the house is unmoving. No voices shout him down, no voices will bid him goodbye. Everyone is away, no one is around. It's just Kei and the confusion in his head.

Nothing has sunk in.

The subconscious part of the boy's mind is trying desperately to stop it from sinking in. Because if it does, he's pretty sure he won't cope. He'll go to school, passive as always, spiteful as always, dickish as always, but behind it all, he'll have to hide his inability to cope—in fact, he'll have to keep the hospitalisation of Akiteru and his mother hidden as well, he won't even tell Yamaguchi because none of them need to know; it's none of their business. If they ask, all he has to do is avoid the question or glare at them and they'll back off, right? None of them really particularly care enough to persist with the questioning, he's sure. But when he reaches home – when he reaches the solitary of his room – even he doesn't know what he'll do.

As horrible as Tsukishima feels, he knows that he'll never last through the day if he doesn't eat something, but he can't even look at the kitchen without feeling like he's going to spew. Guess I gotta grab something though, huh? he thinks, hands clenching into unbelievably tight fists as he takes slow, deep breaths in preparation for the unbelievable objective he's given himself. All I've got to do is grab a banana or something, grab a couple bottles of water from the fridge and then leave. That's all I've got to do. He takes one last deep breath, before shoving his feet into the floor and giving one massive push as he dashes into the kitchen. He knows where everything is so he runs, runs and doesn't focus on where he is, just focuses on getting what he needs—that's all he needs to focus on.

The minute the blonde makes it away from the cooking area, he dumps everything he's grabbed on the floor and focuses on his breathing, attempting to shove down the bile he can feel building up in his throat. He places a hand over his face, grabbing each side with his fingers as he turns round and leans against the cream wall with his head. Just breathe, he tells himself, deliberately making his breaths loud so he's sure he can hear himself breathing. Those same two words repeat in his head like a mantra, over and over again, side by side in the merry-go-round circling in his mind.

"Oh, fuck!" Tsukishima's attempts at calming his insides down are interrupted when a sudden sharp pain bursts along his left palm. "What was that?" Removing himself from his support, he quickly turns his hand over, a plip, plap! simultaneously accompanying it. Golden eyes widen as he watches blood gather in his palm, being vomited from crescent moon indentations. Are these from my nails…!? he asks himself, staring in confusion and slight wonder at the red liquid building up—puddles joining together as he stares. He snaps out of his trance as he notices a stream of blood sliding down the side and he quickly throws his other hand underneath to catch it.

Feelings of sickness completely forgotten about, the boy quickly rushes to his bathroom—not the kitchen—before swiftly turning on the cold water as he searches for what he needs in the medicine cabinet above his head. The liquid stings his hand as he scrambles and scrambles through the piles of unnecessary medicines sitting in there, and he can't help but screw up his face and bite deeply into his bottom lip to avoid himself from crying out.

The blonde manages to find a couple of antiseptic wipes, but with no plasters rearing their heads, he settles for a dressing instead. In all honesty, he doesn't want to use something so noticeable—he'll already have the volleyball club questioning his actions from the day before, but having a bandage round his hand will just increase the number of enquiries floating round their heads. Though difficult, Tsukishima somehow manages to clean, dress and bandage the wound all with using only one hand, his mouth, his cheek and his chin. It's nothing spectacular – first aid isn't really something he's superb at – but it'll do its job and really, that's all he cares about.

Tsukishima is surprised when he realises it's still fifteen minutes before the time he usually leaves – Maybe because I didn't have breakfast? – so he takes the time to clean up any of the blood staining his hands or the sink and replace everything in the medicine cabinet before leaving to deal with what he left on the floor. Contrary to what he'd originally planned, Tsukishima had actually grabbed an odd handful of cereal bars because really, bananas were yellow and at the moment, that wasn't a very appealing colour, considering that unnerving sickening feeling was beginning to gather again and he fucking hated it. Deciding he'd rather leave than stay, the boy shoves all par one of the cereal bars into his bag along with the bottles of water—he can fill up his sports bottle later or even just drink the water from the original bottles because really that's easier and what the fuck is his mind blabbering on about? That isn't an important issue right now, he scolds himself, frowning as he slings his bag over his shoulder and makes his way to the exit.

And it's as he walks there, hearing his socks flump lightly against the wooden floor, that he realises he doesn't know what to do. If he calls back, he'll be calling back to nothing, but saying goodbye is something that's became a habit. To just suddenly be stripped of it…it's so sudden that he's not sure what he should be doing at all. His arms stay limp by his side, one hand loosely gripping the cereal bar, and his golden eyes uselessly stare at his shoes as he stands there and stands there and stands there and does nothing but stare as something sinks in.

But what that something actually is is what Tsukishima doesn't know.

The blonde closes his eyes; he takes a deep breath; he clenches his fists tight; he releases that deep breath; and slowly, ever so slowly, he opens his eyes again. With unfeeling calm, he drags his feet forward and shoves them into his shoes. He takes one more deep breath, as if for good luck, and opens the door, letting the bright sunlight filter in and hit him right in the face.

Tsukishima can't help but squint at the sudden assault and a sigh squeezes past his lips. He wants to stay inside, but he doesn't want to stay in the house standing behind him. He wants to escape from the sun, but it'll chase him no matter where he goes. He isn't ready for the sun today, especially not the one that'll be waiting for him at school. All he wants to do is run, run and just keep on running and hope, hope so bad, that there'll be somewhere that he can hide, somewhere that he can cower, somewhere that he can let what's happened sink in, somewhere that he can just throw away the Tsukishima everyone knows and just break.

But he knows that there isn't anywhere like that. Not for someone like him.

When Tsukishima meets up with Yamaguchi, the smaller's morning greeting is responded to with a simple grunt—he really does not want to have to talk any more today than he needs to, and if he isn't being given permission to run and hide, then at the very least, he should be allowed to do that. The blonde can feel his friend's dark eyes staring right at him—examining him—and he can feel a shiver running up his back as he walks.

Silence stretches out between them for a long, long while, but the whole time, Tsukishima can feel Yamaguchi's intense gaze never falling, as if trying to read his soul. In fact, it would make sense if he was. The taller's, "I'm fine" text was clearly not true in any sense of the word: suddenly hitting and pushing past people while sprinting out of a changing room was not a common occurrence. It's more than obvious that he's going to get some majorly questioning glances and angered threats the moment he steps into that clubroom, especially with the addition of the bandage round his hand – in fact, he's amazed Yamaguchi hasn't asked a single thing about it by this point.

"Are you honestly okay, Tsukki?"

Yamaguchi's abrupt question of concern catches Tsukishima off-guard and the rhythmic tapping of his shoes is interrupted when he accidentally stops for the slightest second. Hoping that it was brief enough that his friend never noticed, the boy turns his head slightly to look at him and nonchalantly responds with a, "Of course I am. Why?" If there was anything else physically wrong about him besides the bandage, he could at least try his best to sort it before the rest of the volleyball club sees him again.

"No reason, really… You just seemed…really odd yesterday when you were leaving."

Yeah, he knows. He fucking knows.

"And you seem a bit out of it today."

"There's really nothing wrong, Yamaguchi," is all Tsukishima says in response. And though it's clear Yamaguchi doesn't believe him, he nods and continues walking in silence. In all honesty, some part of the blonde feels guilty hiding his situation from his friend. The overpowering concern the other feels for him is more than clear from those furtive glances he continues to send his way after his staring period has finished, and the guilt won't stop constricting round his chest and it hurts. Why can't I just trust him? he asks, teeth now biting down into his lower lip. He wouldn't tell anyone if I didn't want him to, so why do I have to make him suffer as well? He's so fucking angry, not just at himself, but at Yamaguchi.

Why the actual fuck is that kid wasting time worrying about him?

"Um… Are you…going to eat that?"

Golden eyes travel down to the cereal bar clenched tightly in his un-bandaged hand and he quickly loosens his hold. He'd completely forgotten he'd even brought it with him. "Yeah. If you want it, I can give it to you though."

"No, I don't want it! I was just wondering since you've been holding it for a while…"

Tsukishima doesn't even reply—he simply rips the packet open and brings it toward his mouth. But before he can even spread apart his lips, he stops and stares at the bar of oats. His hand clenches tight once again as he realises that eating this is something that he doesn't want to do and he's pretty sure he'll throw it back up if he tries. The blonde isn't even aware of the grey eyes watching him anymore as he takes a deep breath and begins worrying his bottom lip. One more deep breath and he finally allows his long fingers to move the cereal bar to his teeth.

He bites, but barely, snagging off only one of the corners and he has to focus on his breathing as he attempts to force the small fragment down. Even once he chews it into minute pieces, he still hesitates before swallowing, and unconsciously tightens his fingers when he does. Why is this so hard? Again, he tries, attempting to make the bitten-off section that tad bit bigger, but it becomes even more difficult, having to chew it even more before he eventually swallows.

Honestly, he doesn't want to continue his whole trip to school in this manner, trying to force oats to go down his throat, so he can't do anything else but pull the wrapper back up and over his supposed-to-be breakfast and shove it into his trouser pocket.

It's only now he remembers Yamaguchi's presence and he curses in his head as he turns slightly in an attempt to gauge the kid's reaction, but the moment he turns to look, the smaller turns away. Tsukishima sighs to himself, and he doesn't even care if the other hears. It's not even been an hour since I've left and I've already screwed up.

The next time the blonde sneaks a glance at Yamaguchi, he makes it more discreet—doesn't let any part of his body move too far to his right so that the kid doesn't suspect anything—and it's then that he notices those curious eyes staring daggers into the bandage round his left hand.

Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Tsukishima doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's noticed Yamaguchi staring at his unexplained injury as he pulls down on his blazer sleeve and tucks the limb closer to his body and further out of the sight of his inquisitive friend. Their eyes meet for a split second and the moment they do, Tsukishima turns away out of guilt. Again, he begins worrying his bottom lip and he doesn't get this—he doesn't get it at all. Why the fuck is he so bothered? He's managed to keep all manners of façades up, each and every one of them absolutely flawless, for a number of years that he's lost count of. So why can't he manage it now?

"Tsukki, I hope you don't mind me asking, but, uhm…"

And already, the dreaded question rears its head.

"You're going to ask about my hand, aren't you?"

"…!"

"I'm surprised you didn't ask sooner."

Tsukishima speaks as if it isn't a big deal—as if it's nothing all that special. But the boy can feel his heart hammering inside of his chest, threatening to escape with each step he takes. He doesn't know how he should answer the question that Yamaguchi never managed to say before he piped in. He doesn't know if he should be honest, he doesn't know if he should lie. If he tells the truth, there's no doubt in the blonde's mind that his friend would tell someone about it, ask them for advice and end up getting them curious, or perhaps, Yamaguchi might even start gaining confidence in himself and end up sticking his nose in where it shouldn't belong, start gaining the confidence in himself he needs to cross the line and stay over it. If he lies, even if Yamaguchi realises he's lying, Tsukishima knows he won't say anything back about it because the kid would be way too frightened to and he's smart enough to know when an unwanted question has been brought out and really, that is a much more favourable and trouble-free outcome.

With his choice decided, Yamaguchi's, "So…what did you do to it?" doesn't throw him off, doesn't leave him panicking as he tries to figure out what he should do. Instead, he opens his mouth and responds with little to no hesitation.

"I was helping with dinner last night and accidentally cut myself."

"Does that mean you're going to miss practice today?"

"…No. I'd rather not get shouted at by the third years. Or the coach, for that matter. I'll just need to watch out for my hand when I'm blocking." Tsukishima's sure Yamaguchi's realised that that isn't the reason he's still going to practice from the way he clams up and says nothing more as they continue their walk to school.

If he delays going back to practice for too long, he's more than sure that the complaints fired at him will be much more worse and much more troublesome than the ones that are already sure to be fired at him for yesterday's incident.

Despite the somewhat tense atmosphere their silence causes, part of it actually relaxes the blonde, having to do nothing but walk and not having to think of believable excuses or try to force out words that he doesn't even want to waste energy speaking.

It's an uncomfortable silence, but a silence that Tsukishima welcomes with open arms regardless and embraces while it lasts.

Contrary to what he imagined, walking into the changing room was a surprisingly quiet event. But though little voices were directed at him, he could feel people's heads turn—could feel people's eyes staring right into him. He couldn't tell who without scanning, but the moment he catches someone – like Sugawara or Kageyama – they instantly turn away. A frown ends up permanently plastered to his face as he gets changed because he knows that everyone wants to question him; wants to know just what the fuck happened with him yesterday. But no one says a thing, and though he doesn't really want to be asked anything, it still pisses him off.

"Ah! Your hand!"

Tsukishima doesn't need to turn round to know that it's Hinata speaking. Tsukishima doesn't need to turn round to also know that he's referring to him.

"…What about it?" the blonde mutters grumpily, pulling over his usual white t-shirt, carefully ensuring that he grips the fabric with the fingertips of his left hand rather than digging the digits right into his palm.

"What did you do to it?"

"Just cut it with a knife when I was making dinner last night." He isn't sure if the excuse works—he doesn't turn round in time to be able to judge properly—but Hinata says no more after, so he can't do anything else but hope it at least keeps the shrimp's curiosity at bay for now.

Still nothing on yesterday though, he notes, starting to fidget somewhat uncomfortably with the hem of his t-shirt as he pulls out his shorts.

"Will you still be able to block okay?" It's Daichi now.

"Should be. It's nothing big," he replies, grumpiness cowering now that his captain was speaking.

"If it hurts though, make sure you tell us, okay?" Sugawara's concerned voice reaches him and he simply nods, uncertain of how sincere—or insincere—that one gesture came across.

Tsukishima feels surprisingly grateful for the orange-haired boy letting his curiosity pull the question of his hand out of him here, while they were in the changing room: none of them have left early and the blonde feels like it has something to do with him, but regardless of the reason, having them all here while he answers Hinata's question on his bandage just means he's answered the question for all of them and really, it's nice to know he's just killed nine birds with one stone.

Although that relief is there, the blonde notices that the activity and liveliness that usually permeates the room isn't. It's louder than it was before—he can hear Hinata and Kageyama and Nishinoya and Tanaka all making a scene as if attempting to break the uncomfortableness caressing the room, and he can hear Daichi and Sugawara and Asahi and Ennoshita and Kinoshita and Narita all piping in now and again as if in an attempt to help them—but it's useless. Even more so with how silent Yamaguchi is beside him, taking a short drink of his water, almost as if he needs an excuse to do something. Tsukishima knows that his friend is worried – knows his whole club is worried, even the ones that might hate his personality – but it means nothing to him. In fact, all it really does is just piss him off to an incredibly large extent.

The walls that Tsukishima had built since first joining aren't easily broken; the walls that Tsukishima had built since Akiteru and his mum's hospitalisation are even harder to break. To know that people he'd never been particularly nice to were the ones trying to force their way through those walls was something that the blonde couldn't comprehend, was something that angered him. There was absolutely no need for these people to be wasting time on him – none at all.

Their concern is something that Kei doesn't want and knows that he never will.

"Hey, what did you do to your hand?"

Tsukishima curses in his head when he hears Coach Ukai's voice reverberating across the hall towards him—he'd completely forgotten about him. Takeda, too. He sighs quietly to himself before opening his mouth and raising his voice – though not quite to the level of shouting – and uses the same excuse he's used everywhere else:

"Cut my hand on a knife, sir."

Well, okay, maybe he could have added the fact he'd been apparently cooking dinner, because really, that sentence alone raises some major questions, but he doesn't receive any more questions about how the injury came about. Instead, he gets asked if he'll be okay during practice today—if he'll manage during the three-on-three they had planned after school.

"I'll be fine, sir,"

is his next response and the blonde is pretty sure his voice is already starting to sound fed-up. As much respect as he has for the coach and advisor, he can't be bothered dealing with this shit today. All he wanted to do was come to school and hopefully take his mind off of what happened the day before at least a little bit, but the wound he's caused himself is in no way helping with that and neither is the constant questions. At least I don't feel so sick, he observes in thankfulness, walking around not such a horrible experience any longer, but he was painfully aware of a headache starting up again and he hoped to the gods that no volleyballs slammed into his face or he'd probably just storm off.

Practice goes by in the blink of an eye for the blonde, mainly because he blanks out for most of it and doesn't even remember properly hitting anything. All he can remember is balls flying past his head or attacking his arms, attacking his legs, attacking his shoulders, not attacking his face because he made sure that that was one thing that never happened. He can remember being shouted at by the coach, by Kageyama, by Tanaka and he also remembers how he either stared blankly at them or gave a quiet half-hearted apology. The look of surprise on everyone's faces each time it happened were the same—but concern also gradually blended its way in. The blonde actually thought he could see some worry in Kageyama's eyes, and it felt…odd. Odd to have the King genuinely concerned about him – the fact he wasn't outwardly expressing it making it clear to the taller that yes, that attention he was giving to him was very, scarily real.

The boy can remember being approached many times asking if he was okay and all he could do was nod or say the usual, "I'm fine". He can remember being asked if his hand hurt, if he maybe wanted to rest for a bit, and his only responses were, "It doesn't hurt," or, "I can still continue". Tsukishima knows that none of them believe him, but if they won't admit it, then neither will he.

One thing that Tsukishima doesn't remember though, is being asked about his sudden panic yesterday and that does nothing but unnerve him.

School passes by without too much taking place, though his inability to focus paired up with his hand injury has many of his teachers concerned – since really, Tsukishima is a good student and he wouldn't be unfocused without reason, surely, and bandages round hands aren't exactly normal – and so many of them ask him if he's okay and what he's done to his hand and the blonde starts to get so fucking sick of it so he tries, really fucking tries to focus, but it's so hard to do and he can't help but start doodling rubbish in his jotters until it looks like someone from the art department's shit all over them. Not that he particularly minds the unorganised mess his lined sheets of paper have turned into—if the teachers disapprove, he can just rip them out later and then they won't have any reason to shout at him about it. Any notes he's missed from today, he can steal from Yamaguchi or something, because right now, he's pretty sure he won't take in anything that he writes; he doesn't even remember what he's been drawing.

Tsukishima can't really remember much right now.

When lunch comes around, something that Tsukishima does remember is that he forgot to make himself anything to eat. Sure, he's got those cereal bars, but that's sure to raise some eyebrows from Yamaguchi. Having nothing'll probably raise them higher though, huh? With a sigh, he pulls out the leftover oats from this morning and begins slowly nibbling his way through, staring out the window as the smaller pulls a chair over. Eating becomes relatively easier with the absence of that overpowering nauseous feeling, but his appetite is still nowhere to be found and he isn't sure why.

"Is that the one from this morning?" Yamaguchi asks, as he settles down and begins opening the lunch that his mother had prepared for him.

"Mm." The noise isn't really a positive or a negative answer, but the way the fingers of Tsukishima's left hand begin playing between themselves – a habit Yamaguchi couldn't help but notice his friend did when he was lying or nervous – tips the other off to the real answer: yes. Yes, it was. But I don't want you asking any more about it.

But this is one of those times where Yamaguchi isn't going to give up as easily in getting something useful out of the blonde.

"Tsukki, have you…been feeling okay?" he hesitantly asks, finding every ounce of strength he can to stop himself from cowering away.

The blonde can't help but sigh. That is one question he's been asked way too much today and every time he gets asked it, he can feel the fuse holding in his anger starting to melt. "Yeah. Why?" he asks, eyes flicking to his friend.

"You don't seem…very focused today." Not wanting to say too much, Yamaguchi stops there, the glare now being sent his way causing his whole body to tense right up. "Is…something going on?" If looks could kill, the black-haired boy would be dead, no doubt about it. That one question is enough to have Tsukishima's eyes narrowing further, a scowl plain on his face, almost as if he were ready to murder the kid right on the spot—that look is all it takes to have Yamaguchi apologizing and completely averting his gaze from the taller.

How shit of a person am I, anyway? Tsukishima asks himself, running a hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. Yamaguchi hasn't done anything wrong. The boy opens his mouth to apologise, but then stops. Really, sincere apologies have never come easily and trying to say one now is just…way too difficult. Gotta do it though, don't I? In a somewhat reserved manner, the blonde fully turns his head to Yamaguchi and, chin near his chest, eyes upturned, the boy mutters a, "Sorry".

His friend's reaction isn't immediate, as if he were questioning what he'd heard—if maybe, he just completely, totally misheard Tsukishima, if maybe, he hadn't said anything at all. But the light dash of red on his cheeks and the way he fidgets with his cereal bar and the way he's trying so hard, but failing, to keep his eyes on him proves that yes, the blonde really had just apologised to him.

"N-No, it's okay!" he quickly reassures, waving his hands in front of him. "I know you've been asked it a lot already – I'd get pretty fed up too if I were you."

Tsukishima manages an awkward smile in some odd show of appreciation at his friend for making the effort to understand him rather than just getting angry at him for not seeming to appreciate his worry for him. The look of surprise that seems to perpetually cover Yamaguchi's features makes the blonde start to feel self-conscious and he instantly covers the curve up of his lips with the last section of his cereal bar, heat spreading even further through his face.

A silence spreads between them but it's definitely a much more comfortable silence than any they've had so far, and the blonde can feel himself relaxing.

That is, until Yamaguchi speaks again.

"Is that cereal bar all you're having for lunch?"

The minute his friend asks that, Tsukishima can't even move his golden eyes anywhere near the other. Embarrassment and guilt spreading throughout his body—though he isn't quite sure why—he slowly nods, fingers again beginning to fidget between themselves.

"Shouldn't you have something more? I mean, you're going to practice after school, aren't you?"

Another nod – to the second question, not the first – yet nothing leaves his mouth.

"Do you...want some of my lunch?"

Honestly, Tsukishima wants to refuse; he already feels unbelievably full despite only eating a cereal bar, and though he doesn't understand why that is, he really doesn't want to start feeling sick again from overeating. He's powered through the headache so far, but he's not sure whether or not he'd last if nausea decided to pay him a visit again.

But how would Yamaguchi react if I refused?

That one problem is what stopped the blonde from giving any sort of answer. His mouth opens and shuts, his eyes hover towards the food and then turn away, his fingers straighten out and then begin fidgeting again. What was the right answer to the question? Did he say yes and then possibly start feeling like absolute shit again? Or did he say no and have Yamaguchi possibly start questioning him even more?

It was then that Tsukishima didn't hesitate in digging the fingers of his left hand straight into his bandaged palm. He didn't wince or cry out—didn't question why he did it. All he does is endure the pain and remind himself that he needs to give an answer and he needs to stop getting so tangled up in what the right or wrong response is.

"It's fine – I don't need anything more to eat."

When he says those words, Yamaguchi's face exudes nothing but pain and sadness and his eyes drop, but the two say nothing on the topic of food for the rest of lunch.

After school practice improves somewhat more in comparison to the morning – Maybe I was just too tired? – less balls are attacking him and more are actually being blocked; his serves are going far enough to get over the net; and his receives aren't as bad as they had been. The coach is shouting at him less and Kageyama is finding fewer reasons to complain about his shitty performance. Really, everything's going fine, and no one's really questioning him like they were this morning.

Tsukishima doesn't feel half bad: his headache's dampened down to barely being noticeable, that nauseous feeling hasn't returned, balls have somehow been totally missing his left hand and he hasn't been thinking about that certain topic he doesn't want to think anything about at all. That is, until they move onto the three-on-three they'd been planning and he ends up on the opposite team to Hinata. Anyone who's felt that kid's quick spike knows that it's painful as fuck if you aren't expecting it, but though the blonde is definitely expecting it, he isn't expecting it to hit straight into the palm of his left hand.

He isn't expecting the overwhelming pain he feels in it either.

He hears himself give one right ugly cry out the moment he feels that excruciating pain spike through his whole hand, as if those cuts weren't limited to just his palm. His other hand cups around the back of his bandaged limb as he squeezes his eyes shut and bites down deep into his bottom lip to stop any more sounds from leaving, but that attempt at silencing himself fails when he realises that he isn't paying enough attention to his landing: the moment his feet touch the ground, he loses his balance and falls ungraciously onto his side. A loud "Shit!" escapes and Tsukishima's pretty sure he can feel his cheeks heating up.

To stop any more humiliating swears from leaving, he begins trying to focus on taking deep breaths—which just becomes nothing more than a jumbled mess of pained breaths with little to no rhythm. He hears Yamaguchi's voice shouting his name and he thinks he can hear other people shouting his name too, but he's too focused on the burning being emitted from under the bandage to try and look at them.

"Are you okay?" Yamaguchi is the first one to ask and as much as he wants to nod and reassure his friend that yes, he's perfectly fine, and he just needs to go take a look under the bandage for a second, he knows his reaction is way too crazy for that to be believable.

Tsukishima shakes his head slightly before cracking open an eye and grating out a, "That really fucking hurt," between clenched teeth.

"Sorry, Tsukishima." Hinata's beside him now, looking straight at where his spike had hit. "I didn't mean to hit straight in your hand like that." He's surprised that the little crow is worried at all, so feels compelled to give a decent reply back.

"S'not your fault," he mutters, averting his golden eyes. "You just spiked it how you usually would – there's nothing wrong with that." Tsukishima doesn't know how anyone reacts to his calm and non-accusing, non-mocking response and he doesn't want to. All he wants to do is get up, go somewhere and check on his hand. With that in mind, the boy takes his non-damaged hand and uses that to awkwardly attempt to push himself up. He's somewhat thankful for the pairs of hands that aid him in his sitting, and then standing, up and he gives a small nod in recognition for their help and in thanks.

"Do you want to go to the nurse's office and get it checked?" Daichi asks, face just that bit too serious for Tsukishima to be comfortable with.

"No, I'll be fine. I always take first aid stuff to school, so I can check it myself, if you're okay with me going back to the changing room."

"Yeah, that's totally fine."

"I have the key, so I'll go with you," Takeda pipes up from just behind him.

Tsukishima is tempted to refuse him tagging along, that he would be fine going by himself because, really, the minute he takes that bandage off, it'll be more than obvious that it wasn't a knife that cut his palm. But there was something about their advisor's voice that sounded more like a, "I'm coming with you no matter what you say", than a "May I come, too?" and that's enough to leave the blonde with no objections.

The walk back to the changing room is filled with an odd tension that Tsukishima can't help but be confused about. There's no reason for there to be any ill feelings between him and the smaller teacher that would cause such an uncomfortable silence, and something about the way those brown eyes seem to flick to him now and again makes it feel like there's something being left unspoken that the other wants to say.

In fact, it reminds the boy of his walk with Yamaguchi that same morning, and a feeling of unease begins creeping into his gut.

"Uh…Tsukishima-kun?"

Tsukishima gets the fright of his life when Takeda suddenly decides to talk as soon as they enter the changing room. He can tell from that somewhat timid tone that there's a question coming up – a question that Takeda knows won't make the blonde very pleased. That's when it really hits him that he's here, alone, with a teacher; a teacher that has access to his personal information; a teacher that has access to his family. The guy isn't his homeroom teacher, but he's a teacher all the same and, worse, the advisor of a club that he's a member of.

Shit.

"What is it, sir?" Tsukishima asks, bugs of nervousness crawling all through his body, sending shivers everywhere they go.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

And again with that same question. Though he doesn't mean it to be, the sigh that escapes the blonde is more than obvious as he kneels down and begins pushing aside the things in his bag to get at the tub of equipment. "I'm feeling fine." It's a short, blunt answer—one that almost seems like a warning for the smaller teacher not to continue with the questioning any further. But Takeda-sensei is a teacher – it's his job to interrogate me on this.

"Some of the other teachers have been telling me that you haven't been very focused during class and that's just not like you." Tsukishima scoffs to himself as he pulls out the green-lidded box. "And you didn't eat much for lunch either, did you?" The minute those words are spoken, that box is dropped on the ground with a thud and the first year is staring right up at Takeda beside him. His golden eyes are wide as he processes what was said and suddenly, he feels so unbelievably angry, angry enough that he can stick his nails into both palms and not give a shit about the pain he feels.

"…What?"

"You only ate a cereal bar, didn't you?"

Tsukishima's sure now how violently he's shaking trying to stop himself from shouting, trying to keep his voice as calm as he can make – getting angry at a teacher won't make anything better – and taking deep breaths seems to be all he can do anymore to just calm everything down but it's not, it's not doing anything because he knows, he knows why Takeda knows and he's not sure why he feels so frustrated, why he feels upset, and he brings in his bottom lip and bites down on it while he tries to stop his rage from bursting open and lashing out.

"Why did he tell you…?" the blonde manages, voice quiet and trembling so unbelievably much.

"Because he's worried."

And those three words are all it takes to make every single emotion he's feeling to just vanish. Yamaguchi told him because he was worried. That boy told Takeda about him because he was stupidly paying attention to him; to Tsukishima Kei. He can't understand why someone would want to be worried about someone as despicable as him, and though he thinks there's a light feeling in his chest at that notion, something darker won't stop constricting around it anytime it tries to reach deep into his heart. That happy feeling is killed before Tsukishima can ever really feel it, and all that's left is nothing. The blonde feels like a kid as he flops back onto his bum and sits there, knees close to his chest, arms leaning across his knees.

Takeda's the one opening the box now—pulling out everything he needs before Tsukishima stops him. "I only need a few plasters," he says, almost laughing at how stupid he was to not think of getting the plasters already in his bag for his palm than using the bandage. His voice is still quiet but it no longer trembles; it's simply filled with all the exhaustion he feels, all the exhaustion he's been trying to deny existed. It's not even been a day and I'm this tired.

"…Is anything going on at home?"

Tsukishima can't help but flinch at the abrupt question, and begins taking off the bandage he'd sloppily wrapped around his hand to try and hide the nervousness building up inside of him. This is the time where he needs to focus on his response—to try and find the right response—but he only has a second or two to do that in: it's nowhere near enough time. He takes a deep breath as discreetly as he can and then nonchalantly responds with, "No." Somehow, he manages to keep his voice steady and uninterested like usual, and some part of him's wondering if maybe his voice isn't quite hitting his ears right because butterflies are breaking free everywhere in his stomach and he almost feels sick from the nerves that it doesn't make sense for his voice to not be showing all of that.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, why wouldn't I be?" Tsukishima is perfectly aware of how rude he most likely sounds to Takeda but honestly, he's not sure if he cares. He doesn't want to have to deal with so many of the same questions every day. Maybe they'll get fed up and stop in a few days time if I just keep on denying them the answers. But the chances of that happening are way too slim and he knows it.

"If you're hiding something from me, then you're better off coming clean right now. Don't forget I can call home and figure out what's happening straight from your parents."

That was one thing that Tsukishima had known, but was one thing he had hoped Takeda wouldn't use. In all honesty, he doesn't want to have to be the one to say where his mother and Akiteru are, but he doesn't want his dad to know how he's been at school. Honestly, he's surprised they're jumping on it so soon, but in a way, it makes sense—all eyes have probably been focused on him since his stunt yesterday and it's somewhat unsettling to think of how much attention he's being paid.

When Tsukishima pulls the dressing off, he screws up his face at the smudges of blood around the indentations – Hinata's spike must have made them bleed again. Thankfully, Takeda had brought out an antiseptic wipe along with the plasters and he mutters a small, "Thanks" when the man rips open the packet and passes him the moist material. A silence spreads between them as the boy patches his hand back up again. Now that Takeda's seen the marks, Tsukishima is pretty sure he's caught on to what really caused the wound on his palm, but he doesn't say anything to him, and some part of him feels thankful for that.

In fact, he doesn't say anything even when he's done and the blonde is packing the box away. He's simply waiting patiently for Tsukishima to respond if he wants to respond or when he wants to respond. Takeda isn't pushing him, and it surprises the middle blocker a little. From what he'd heard, their advisor was a rather pushy fellow when it came to getting things done—though maybe that was only for getting their coach and for sorting out practice matches. He's pretty relieved that the Takeda speaking to him just now isn't the persistent one though, because he isn't sure how he'd have reacted to someone trying to seriously interrogate him.

"…My mum and my brother were involved in a car crash and...they're in hospital," he eventually murmurs quietly, closing his bag and slowly standing up. The next time he looks at Takeda, there's nothing but pity on his features and Tsukishima has to look away; he isn't sure he would have lasted if he'd kept on looking at that expression on the teacher's face.

"I'm sorry. Are they okay?"

Takeda stands up, but neither of them move. All the blonde does is stare at the ground and turn his hands into fists as he softly mutters his response: "My brother's…more stable. But I don't know about my mum. Either way, they could both still..." He takes a deep breath, leaving that one word unspoken. "My dad said he'd text me or call me if anything changes though." One of Takeda's hands is gently squeezing his shoulder by this point, but Tsukishima doesn't shove it away or complain about its presence. Surprisingly, he finds it oddly relaxing.

"Why not check your phone just now then, while we're here? There's no rush after all."

Golden eyes look down at the smaller man and for a while, he considers it. What if there is a text waiting there for him? What if that text is something bad? Does he want to know what it is right now while a teacher is here with him? But on the other hand, what if it's good news? That thought finalizes his decision for him and eventually, he gives a small, slow nod.

Tsukishima can both feel and see himself shaking as he finds his phone, and he's pretty sure Takeda can see his shivering as well, but he isn't focused on that—all he's focused on is whether or not there's any mail for him. He has to take yet another deep breath as he calms himself down, tells him that everything is fine and, hands still trembling, brings a finger down onto the round button at the bottom of his phone.

And that's when he sees it.

Sees that he's got a message from his father.

And that message has his eyes widening and his mouth opening.

His eyes scan over the message again and again, trying to confirm that it's real and when he manages to properly process his dad's message, he can't help but read it out loud just once:

"Akiteru's woken up."

A/N: He's awake!

But this is an angst fic.

Be prepared for a fairly long scene in the hospital.

psst suggestions are totally fine