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Tsukishima stared at the shelf, chewing at the inside of his cheek, debating with himself. This was a stupid idea. It was Kuroo’s idea - of course it was stupid. He didn’t even know why he was entertaining the notion.
Scratch that, he did know why. It was because he hadn’t been able to sleep properly since he had moved away from Miyagi, and it was starting to wear on him. The insomnia could be caused by any number of things - homesickness, poor nutrition now that his mother wasn’t there to cook proper meals for him, stress from university, stress from work, stress from having Kuroo Tetsurou as a roommate - but the one Tsukishima was least likely to admit to was the one he feared was the most accurate. He was lonely.
Tsukishima frowned at the shelf. The shelf, impervious to his glare, did not bow.
“Oh, what the hell.”
Tsukishima caved. He grabbed one of the fluffy body pillows off of the display and shoved it into his cart. If it eased his restlessness even a little bit, it would be almost worth Kuroo never letting him live it down.
To Tsukishima’s humiliation, Kuroo wasn’t the only one in the apartment when he got home from the store. He poked his head in the front door - purchases held safely out of sight in the hall - to see Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi piled up on the couch together, watching a movie. He grimaced.
“Oi, Tsukki!” Bokuto called, the first to notice the opening of the door. “The movie just started! You gonna watch it with us?”
Tsukishima ignored him, turning with a glare to lock eyes with Kuroo. “You.” Kuroo tilted his head curiously, a half-smile already on his face. “I don’t want to hear a single word from you.”
Kuroo’s half-smile spread to a full-fledged grin. “What did you do?”
“Shut it,” Tsukishima insisted again, before entering the apartment fully and kicking the door closed behind him. As soon as his new pillow was through the doorway, Kuroo was roaring with laughter.
“What did I say?” Tsukishima snapped, but Kuroo didn’t appear to even hear him. He was pointing at Tsukishima’s purchase, doubling over to the point of nearly falling off the couch.
“To be fair, he’s not saying words,” Akaashi chimed in. Tsukishima turned his glare on the traitor. Kuroo clapped a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder to show his appreciation.
“Is that a body pillow?” Bokuto asked, perking up in his seat. “I have one of those! For when Akaashi’s not around!” This earned Bokuto an elbow to the ribs from Akaashi, and Tsukishima felt just a little bit better. Kuroo took deep breaths, trying to settle his laughter.
“I’m going to bed,” Tsukishima announced, and started down the hallway to his bedroom.
“The movie!” Bokuto protested, arms gesturing toward the unpaused feature on the television screen.
“It’s barely even dark out,” Akaashi added.
Kuroo got his breath back just in time to pipe in, “It’s okay guys, Tsukki has to break in his new friend.”
Tsukishima slammed his door to the sound of Kuroo’s laughter giving an encore performance, featuring special guest Bokuto.
Tsukishima tossed the pillow onto his bed, frowning at it, hoping it wouldn’t prove to be a mistake.
When his pajamas were on and the lights were off, Tsukishima climbed into bed. He threw his blankets over the pillow. He pulled the pillow close, snuggling right up to it. He closed his eyes.
...He felt silly.
He opened his eyes, glaring into the blurry darkness of his room. It wasn’t like anyone could see him, and he knew it was a silly idea from the get-go. He sighed, closed his eyes again, and settled back into the pillow. Bokuto’s words from earlier rang in his mind. “I have one of those! For when Akaashi’s not around!”
Tsukishima had already acknowledged that his sleeplessness started when he left Miyagi. He had already admitted to himself that it was most likely due to loneliness. It wasn’t too big of a jump for him to envision the person he was missing the most: Yamaguchi.
Tsukishima felt his ears heat, embarrassed even in the confines of his own mind. It wasn’t like he and Yamaguchi had ever cuddled before - slept in close proximity, sure, all the time, but never cuddled - but it was more soothing than he had expected it would be to imagine it was Yamaguchi’s head tucked under his chin rather than the edge of the pillow, Yamaguchi’s waist his arms were wound around.
Tsukishima took a deep breath, and let himself indulge in the fantasy.
He was asleep in minutes.
“You know, I was just joking when I told you to buy a body pillow,” was how Kuroo greeted him the next morning.
“Oh?” Tsukishima responded, walking past his roommate and into the kitchen. “I suppose I don’t owe you any thanks then.” He glanced over at Kuroo just in time to see his teasing grin falter.
“Wait. Did it actually help?” Kuroo sounded almost as surprised as Tsukishima had been when he woke up halfway through the night and realized he had already been asleep for hours, as opposed to still being awake.
“A bit, yeah,” Tsukishima answered, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it at the sink. It wasn’t like he had slept perfectly - he still woke up periodically throughout the night - but it was easier to fall asleep, and subsequently, fall back asleep, with the pillow to comfort him. Even if it did only work when he started pretending it was Yamaguchi.
“Well, you’re welcome, then!” Kuroo said as Tsukishima returned to the living room, chest puffed out in exaggerated pride. Tsukishima was unimpressed.
“I didn’t thank you.”
“You don’t need to,” Kuroo informed. “I’m always glad to help a friend in need.”
Tsukishima raised a skeptical brow. “If you actually cared about helping me, you wouldn’t have made fun of me for following your suggestion.”
Kuroo opened his mouth to reply, then paused, the gears in his head clearly working on coming up with his defense. Tsukishima took the opportunity to dip his fingertips into his glass of water, then flick them at his roommate. “Bad Kuroo,” he scolded. “Bad.”
Kuroo nodded as he wiped the moisture from his face. “I deserved that.”
Tsukishima turned down the hall to return to his room. Before he got too far, Kuroo called, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new lover?”
Tsukishima glared over his shoulder at Kuroo, who was trying very hard not to laugh at his own joke. Tsukishima should have known he wouldn’t be let off the hook that easily.
The teasing continued over the next few weeks, though Kuroo did lose a bit of steam when Bokuto started coming to Tsukishima’s defense.
“I have a body pillow too!” Bokuto had bellowed one night, the outburst seemingly out of nowhere. “Are you gonna make fun of me, too?”
“Well, I mean,” Kuroo tried to find the words to explain his logic. “You’re the type of person who would have a body pillow, so it’s not surprising that you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not supposed to mean anything about you!” Kuroo was getting exasperated. Tsukishima was enjoying the show. “It’s just that Tsukki doesn’t seem like that type of person, so it’s funny that he does!”
“Well I don’t think it’s funny,” Bokuto insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.
After that, Kuroo’s teasing dropped to only when it was just the two of them, and Tsukishima had never been more thankful to Bokuto in his life.
Truth be told, Kuroo’s pestering really wasn’t too much to endure now that Tsukishima was sleeping fairly regularly. Though he still felt his cheeks heat up sometimes when he was on the phone with Yamaguchi, listening to his best friend rambling about how his work day had been, and all he could think about was how he had pressed his face into his pillow and murmured, “Goodnight, Tadashi,” before he fell asleep the previous night.
But if there was one thing that Tsukishima Kei was good at, it was playing it cool. All he had to do was continue to play it cool, and nobody would ever need to know that when he draped himself over his body pillow at night, it was his best friend that he was imagining folding himself in on.
Right?
Tsukishima awoke one morning to pounding at his bedroom door. He groaned, burying his face in what he imagined was the crook of Yamaguchi’s neck, tightening his arms around the width of what he wished was Yamaguchi’s abdomen.
“Tsukki!” the door opened, and Kuroo’s head was in his room. Tsukishima rolled slightly toward the door, peering at the shape of Kuroo through one cracked eye. “Don’t you work at 8 today?”
Tsukishima was quiet for a moment, trying to wake up enough to remember what day it was. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“It’s 7:45.”
“Fuck,” Tsukishima announced in response, followed quickly by, “I’m up.” He rolled back into his pillow, making no effort to get up.
When he heard the door close, Tsukishima sighed mournfully into the body pillow. “Morning, Tadashi,” he said, words that had become his typical greeting to each new day, lips brushing the pillow’s surface before he sat up.
What wasn’t typical about this greeting was the scoff of laughter he heard in response. Tsukishima froze.
“Oh my god, you named it!” Kuroo was cackling, and Tsukishima threw one of his regular pillows at the other man.
“What are you still doing here?” Tsukishima demanded, face heating up instantly. He couldn’t believe he’d let Kuroo hear that. He couldn’t believe he’d let Kuroo see that.
“I just wanted to make sure you got to work!” Kuroo answered defensively, ducking out of the way of the cushy projectile. “But oh man, did I get more than I bargained for!”
“Get out!” Tsukishima grabbed his glasses off his bedside table, donning them before throwing his other head pillow at his laughing intruder. This one hit its mark.
“What was his name?” Kuroo, unfazed even by a direct hit, continued on, holding his hand up to his ear. “Tadashi, did you say?”
“I said, get out!” At this point Tsukishima vaulted out of his bed, crossing the room to where Kuroo stood in two long strides. He grabbed Kuroo by the shoulders, spun him around, and started shoving him toward the door.
“I can’t leave yet, Tsukki,” Kuroo cried mournfully, dragging his feet the whole way. “You haven’t properly introduced Tadashi and I yet!”
The struggle continued until Tsukishima was finally able to wrestle his door open, shove Kuroo out into the hall, and slam the door shut behind him, locking it as quickly as he could manage. Kuroo turned the knob against the lock, whining when he couldn’t get back in.
“Aw, Tsukki, don’t be like that!” Kuroo called through the door. “I just wanted to meet your new boyfriend.”
“Stop calling me that. You’ve lost privileges!” Tsukishima hollered back. “Leave me alone, I need to get ready for work.”
It was quiet for a few moments before Kuroo acquiesced. “You’ll get more later, though, Tsukki,” he warned teasingly, before Tsukishima heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway.
He sighed in relief, but turned back to his bed with a frown. Approaching the bed, he laid one hand on the body pillow.
“I’ve made a terrible mistake, Tadashi.”
As promised, Tsukishima got more.
That night, when he finally got home after his work shift and his evening class, Kuroo had dinner ready and the table set… with three places. Tsukishima could sense it was a trap, and didn’t ask about it. That didn’t save him, unfortunately.
“Aren’t you going to invite Tadashi to dinner?” Kuroo asked when they sat down, the smile on his lips portraying the picture of innocence. “I set a place for him and everything.”
The next day, when Tsukishima was leaving for class, “So, did you and Tadashi meet in one of your classes?” Tsukishima rolled his eyes. Kuroo persisted, “What’s he majoring in?”
A text received while Kuroo was at the supermarket, “Does Tadashi have any food allergies I should know about?”
When Tsukishima balled his fists in his hair, sighing agitatedly down at his research paper, “Maybe Tadashi could help you study?”
Of course, the fabled Tadashi was eventually mentioned in front of their friends, which was just as embarrassing as Tsukishima had imagined it would be. It was game night, and the lot of them were piled up in Bokuto and Akaashi’s living room, circled around the entertainment center. It only took until halfway through their first round of Mario Party for Kuroo to give an exaggerated sigh and set his controller down.
“It’s a real shame you wouldn’t bring Tadashi with us tonight,” Kuroo mourned, glancing across the circle at Tsukishima. “I’m sure he would’ve enjoyed this too.”
“Tadashi?” Bokuto asked, leaning so that his head was between Kuroo and Tsukishima’s line of sight. He looked back and forth between the two of them. “Who’s Tadashi?”
“No one.”
“Tsukki’s lover.”
They spoke in unison, and Tsukishima glared at Kuroo.
“Lover?” Bokuto asked excitedly, grinning widely at Tsukishima before turning back to Kuroo. “For real?”
“Lover?” Akaashi repeated, softer, and aimed at Tsukishima.
“For real,” Kuroo confirmed, at the same time Tsukishima shook his head in the negative.
“Congratulations, Tsukki!” Bokuto beamed at him. Akaashi knitted his brows in confusion.
“I don’t have a lover,” Tsukishima insisted firmly, exasperation in his voice. Bokuto blinked at him.
“Then who’s Tadashi?”
“No one.”
“Go on, Tsukki,” Kuroo encouraged, grin on his lips and chin in his hand. “Don’t be shy. Tell them about Tadashi.”
Tsukishima bit the inside of his cheek. Kuroo was cruel. He was giving him the choice to either lie about having a lover, and deal with their friends’ pestering questions, or tell the group himself that he had named his body pillow. Neither option seemed a lesser evil.
“He’s talking about Tsukishima’s body pillow,” Kenma interjected. “That’s what he named it.”
“Kenma!” Kuroo groaned, betrayal evident in his voice. Tsukishima sighed, a little bit relieved that at least the decision had been lifted from his shoulders. “You ruined the reveal!”
“How? Now everyone knows.”
“Yeah, but…” Kuroo puffed out his cheeks, arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit the petulant child. “Tsukki was supposed to admit it himself.”
Kenma frowned at him. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
Kuroo held a hand to his chest in exaggerated offense. “I give you nothing but love, and this is how you treat me?”
While the pair bickered, Bokuto and Akaashi turned their attention back to Tsukishima. “You named your body pillow Tadashi?” Akaashi asked.
Tsukishima wanted to argue the point, because technically he didn’t name it, but he knew that would get him nowhere. He conceded instead. “I guess I did.”
“So…” Bokuto cocked his head to the side, blinking at Tsukishima. “Who’s Tadashi?”
Tsukishima frowned. “It’s like Kozume said. Kuroo’s just talking about my body pillow.”
Bokuto looked unconvinced. “Well yeah, that’s what he’s talking about. But you must have got the name from somewhere.”
Kuroo finally turned away from Kenma, his eyes focusing in on Tsukishima again. Tsukishima did his best to keep his facial features blank. “It’s just a name I like.”
Bokuto crossed his arms over his chest. “If I were going to name my body pillow, I would name it Keiji,” he announced. Akaashi dropped his face into his palm. “I wouldn’t give it just some random name, no matter how much I liked the name.”
“That’s true,” Kuroo said, realization dawning. “Bokuto, you unmitigated genius, I never thought of it like that. If I had a body pillow I would definitely name it Kenma.”
Bokuto nodded, sitting up a little straighter at Kuroo’s praise. “Yeah! That’s not the type of thing you give just a name. Something you sleep with every night, you give a special name!”
Kuroo’s grin spread back across his face, and Tsukishima felt well and truly surrounded by predators. “Who’s Tadashi, Tsukki?”
“It’s just a name,” Tsukishima insisted. “Of course you would name it after a significant other if you have one, but I don’t. It’s just a name.”
“There must have been a Tadashi at some point. Otherwise how would you know you like the name?” Bokuto reasoned. Tsukishima wasn’t sure he could argue with that.
“There are lots of places you can hear a name,” he tried.
“He’s right, you know,” Akaashi jumped in. “It could have been someone in his high school class, it could have been a manga character, it could have been a mother in the grocery store yelling at her son.”
“I don’t believe that,” Kuroo answered definitively. “You’re more purposeful than that. The name has to mean something.”
“Are we going to finish our game or not?” Kenma asked, gesturing at the television. “If you all are just going to sit here and interrogate Tsukishima all night, I’m leaving.”
“What?” Kuroo’s head whipped back around to Kenma. “C’mon, you can’t leave. We’ve barely started playing!”
“And we’re never going to finish, at this rate.”
Kuroo pouted. Kenma was unmoved.
“Fine, let’s get back to the game,” Kuroo relented. Tsukishima breathed a sigh of relief, and Kuroo pointed a finger at him. “I will find out who Tadashi is, though.”
“I wish you luck in figuring out that my body pillow is a body pillow,” Tsukishima deadpanned.
Later that night, when the games were over and the group was busy cleaning up after their festivities, Kenma volunteered himself and Tsukishima to carry all the cups and dishes into the kitchen to be washed. Tsukishima raised an eyebrow both at being spoken for and at Kenma volunteering to do work that wasn’t asked of him, but said nothing of it. Once the two were alone in the kitchen, Kenma spoke.
“You should just tell him, you know.” After a pause in which Tsukishima blinked at him uncomprehendingly, he added, “Yamaguchi.”
Tsukishima furrowed his brow. He hadn’t mentioned Yamaguchi all night. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Shoyo calls him by his given name.”
Tsukishima froze. “Oh,” he said simply, though his brain was in overdrive. Kuroo had been telling Kenma about Tsukishima’s body pillow named Tadashi, and all the while Kenma had known that the Yamaguchi Tadashi that Hinata apparently talked about was the same Yamaguchi that was Tsukishima's best friend. There wasn’t much worse this situation could get before Kuroo learned the truth too.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Tetsurou,” Kenma assured. “But I do think you should tell Yamaguchi how you feel.”
Tsukishima was quiet for a moment, busying himself with filling up the sink with hot water. Eventually, he answered, “Our relationship isn’t like that.”
Kenma added dish soap to the water. “Neither was mine and Tetsurou’s. Until I told him how I felt.”
Tsukishima remembered Kuroo telling him that he and Kenma had been friends since childhood, but hadn’t actually started dating until university. If he remembered correctly, Kuroo and Kenma had been friends even longer than he and Yamaguchi. Tsukishima turned off the water.
“Fair enough.”
Tsukishima laid in bed, tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable. It was a problem he hadn’t had in months - not since he’d bought the body pillow. Not since he’d allowed himself to start drifting to sleep imagining Yamaguchi in his arms. Tonight, however, something was holding him back.
“You should tell Yamaguchi how you feel.”
Tsukishima clicked his tongue, annoyed at the repetitions of Kenma’s voice in his head. Telling Yamaguchi how he felt simply wasn’t as easy as Kenma made it sound. He was confident that they were close enough for their friendship to survive even if Yamaguchi didn’t feel the same way, but it would still put an awkward strain on things for a while. With Tsukishima so busy with work and school, living in Tokyo while Yamaguchi was working full time back home in Miyagi, they already didn’t talk anywhere near as much as they used to. Tsukishima didn’t want anything else coming between them, even temporarily. Just thinking about it made him miss Yamaguchi that much more, the loneliness settling heavily in his chest.
Tsukishima grabbed his cell phone off his bedside table, dialing the familiar number.
The line connected after the third ring. “Tsukki?” Yamaguchi’s sleep-heavy voice asked. “Are you okay?” Tsukishima felt guilty for not even bothering to check the time before he called.
“I know it’s late,” he said in apology. “But I couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh? I thought you said you’ve been sleeping better lately?” He could picture the concerned frown Yamaguchi was wearing from the tone of his voice.
“I have been,” Tsukishima assured. “Tonight I just…” He trailed off as he realized there was no real way to justify the call except to admit the truth: he’d just wanted to hear Yamaguchi’s voice.
“It’s okay,” Yamaguchi soothed in the silence, although he still sounded puzzled. “How’s everything going?”
“Normal, mostly,” Tsukishima answered with a shrug he knew Yamaguchi couldn’t see. He was quiet for a moment, then he asked, “How’s Hinata?”
There was a pause before Yamaguchi responded, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Shoyo’s fine,” he said slowly, and the name felt like a knife in Tsukishima’s chest. “Still playing volleyball for the local university. Lucky he’s good at it because his grades are abysmal.” They shared a laugh that faded into another moment of silence. “Where did that come from?”
“Kozume mentioned tonight that Hinata talks about you a lot,” Tsukishima explained. “But you don’t really talk about him.”
“I guess I didn’t think you wanted to hear about him.” Tsukishima heard a rustling noise that might have been Yamaguchi shrugging. “You two never really did get along.”
“But you two did.” Tsukishima realized he answered a little too quickly, and hoped it didn’t come off as jealousy.
It took Yamaguchi a few seconds to answer, confusion clear in his tone. "Sorry, Tsukki. I don’t understand.”
“I just-” Tsukishima caught himself speaking too quickly again, paused, and took a deep breath. “I’m…” Another pause, trying to collect his thoughts. He had wondered often, laying in bed at night, if Yamaguchi was as lonely without him as he was without Yamaguchi. Sure, Tsukishima had Kuroo, and Bokuto, and Akaashi, and Kenma, but they… It just wasn’t the same. But then again, Yamaguchi always had been better at connecting. Finally, he forced the words out. “I’m just glad you’re not lonely.”
“Aww, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi crooned, and Tsukishima closed his eyes to better envision the grin spreading across his friend’s face. “That’s so sweet!” Tsukishima smiled into the darkness of his room, proud that, if nothing else, he could still touch Yamaguchi’s heart from such a distance.
That feeling faded, turned to dread, when Yamaguchi mumbled, “Wait…” because Yamaguchi had always been too perceptive when it came to Tsukishima. Slowly, cautiously, Yamaguchi asked, “Tsukki, are you lonely?”
Just like that, fear wrapped Tsukishima’s heart. “Sorry Yamaguchi, it’s late,” he tried to excuse himself from the conversation, panicked, but trying to keep his voice steady. “I should go.”
“No, Tsukki, it’s okay,” Yamaguchi tried to reassure, but it was too late. Tsukishima was already shutting down. “I’m here for-”
“Goodnight, Tadashi,” Tsukishima interrupted, his jaw clenching shut as soon as he realized what he’d said. His heart was in his throat, constricting his breathing, and he wanted to hang up the phone in humiliation, but he forced himself to stay on the line.
After a few moments of what Tsukishima could only presume was shocked silence, Yamaguchi replied softly, sweetly, “Goodnight, Kei.” Tsukishima breathed a sigh of relief, some of the tension easing from his body. “I’m here whenever you need me.”
“I know.”
Tsukishima hung up the phone. He laid in bed, on his back, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, until his heart rate had calmed.
He rolled onto his side, wrapped his arms around his body pillow, and this time, when he murmured, “Goodnight, Tadashi,” into the fabric, his mind replied in Tadashi’s gentle, touched voice, “Goodnight, Kei.”
The following weekend, Tsukishima and Kuroo were surprised by an unexpected knock at their door early Saturday morning.
“I got it,” said Kuroo, shoving himself up from the couch with a yawn. Tsukishima heard the door open, and then heard nothing. He craned his neck over the arm of his chair, but couldn’t see the front door from where he sat. After a few moments of silence, Kuroo called, “It’s for you.”
Confused, and slightly concerned, Tsukishima got up and made his way down the short hall that led to the door. Kuroo stood in the way, door held only slightly open, so that Tsukishima couldn’t see who was outside until he reached the end of the hall. Kuroo stepped aside, and Tsukishima pulled the door fully open to reveal Yamaguchi standing just outside, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder.
“Yamaguchi?” he asked, blinking at his friend. “What are you doing here?”
Yamaguchi smiled shyly. “I wanted to surprise you. I got the weekend off work so I could come visit.” Yamaguchi’s eyes flicked over Tsukishima’s shoulder, to where Kuroo still stood. Shockingly, Kuroo took the hint.
“I’ll get some tea started,” he announced, before retreating to the kitchen. Yamaguchi waited until Kuroo was out of sight before speaking again.
“I didn’t want you to feel lonely anymore.”
Tsukishima’s eyes widened a fraction, and he could feel his ears heating up. Whatever embarrassment he felt, however, was outweighed by how touched he was that Yamaguchi would make the trip from Miyagi to Tokyo, on such short notice, just because Tsukishima had unwittingly implied that he was lonely. Tsukishima smiled, and stepped out of the way of the door.
“Come on in.”
To say that Tsukishima hadn’t realized just how much he had missed Yamaguchi until they were together again would be an understatement. They spent the morning chatting, just catching up, finding that even though they’d talked regularly, neither had any shortage of things to talk about. After Kuroo left for work they had lunch, then watched a few movies that Yamaguchi had rented for the trip - movies that had come out since Tsukishima left Miyagi, that they had talked about both wanting to see.
Sitting on the couch, with Yamaguchi curled up next to him, and a drama on the television that wasn’t nearly as good as they had expected it to be, Tsukishima realized how much happier he was just being near Yamaguchi. It was something he had always known, deep down, but something he had never been able to admit, even to himself, until that moment. Yamaguchi snorted in laughter at the overzealous actor on the screen, ruining what was supposed to be a climactic plot point, and Tsukishima couldn’t help but smile as he watched his best friend’s laughter out of the corner of his eye.
Tsukishima couldn’t remember the last time he had been this happy.
Until, of course, Kuroo came home and ruined it.
To Kuroo’s credit, he waited all day. He let Tsukishima enjoy his surprise visit from his dearly missed friend until well into the night. In fact, it wasn’t until the three boys were getting ready for bed that Kuroo finally decided to bring up the dreaded subject.
“Are you sure you’re okay with giving me your bed?” Yamaguchi asked, for easily the fifth time. Tsukishima waved the concern away from his seat on the couch, wrapped in a spare comforter.
“For the last time, yes,” he insisted. “I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch.”
“But-”
“Hush,” Tsukishima cut him off. Yamaguchi puffed out his cheeks in annoyance, but finally relented.
“Thank you, Tsukki.”
From the archway that led to the kitchen, Kuroo watched with a smirk. “Yes, Tsukki, so chivalrous,” he drawled. “There’s only one problem, though.”
Tsukishima glanced at Kuroo suspiciously. “And what’s that?” he asked.
“I don’t think Tadashi can fit on the couch with you.”
Every ounce of color drained from Tsukishima’s face. Yamaguchi looked between Kuroo and Tsukishima, brows knitted in confusion.
“Um… Why would I need to?” Yamaguchi asked. The resulting expression of confusion from Kuroo didn’t last nearly long enough. He was already putting it together.
“Oh,” Kuroo said slowly, drawing out the syllable. He pointed a finger at Yamaguchi. “You’re Tadashi?” Tsukishima buried his face in his hands.
“Yes?” Yamaguchi answered, still confused.
“Oho ho!” Tsukishima could hear the grin spreading across Kuroo’s face when he spoke. “How rude of you, Tsukki. You haven’t introduced your best friend, Tadashi, to the Tadashi you’ve been sleeping with?”
“Wait, what?” Poor Yamaguchi had no concept of what was going on anymore. Tsukishima’s heart hammered in his chest.
“Go away, Kuroo,” Tsukishima commanded, but it came out like a plea. Kuroo tried to suppress his laughter, and failed.
“Of course,” he answered, all too obligingly. He gave Tsukishima a pat on the back as he walked by the couch. “Have a good night.”
Tsukishima listened to Kuroo’s footsteps, listened for the closing of his door. He breathed a sigh of relief at the loss of the antagonist, but now he still had this whole situation to explain to Yamaguchi.
“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi’s voice was smaller than he expected it to be, finally pulling Tsukishima’s eyes up to meet his. Yamaguchi looked… hurt, and Tsukishima didn’t understand why. All he knew was that seeing Yamaguchi like that killed him. “What was Kuroo talking about?”
Tsukishima took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing pulse. He nodded toward the open cushion next to him, and Yamaguchi took a seat. Tsukishima took a few moments to collect his thoughts, trying to figure out how to explain this.
“Do you remember… when I told you I’d been sleeping better?” Yamaguchi nodded, confusion still clear on his face. “Remember me saying Kuroo had a stupid idea to help me sleep and it actually ended up working?”
“I don’t understand,” Yamaguchi said. “He told you to… start sleeping with someone?”
“No!” Tsukishima replied, a little too quickly. “No, he… He told me to get a body pillow.” Yamaguchi tilted his head to the side. Tsukishima forged on. “And I took his stupid advice, and it worked, and now he makes fun of me relentlessly for it. But, not so much just because I bought the damn thing, but because…” His throat felt like it was swelling shut. Tsukishima forced himself to take deep breaths, to press on. “Because I call it by a name.”
Tsukishima could see in Yamaguchi’s eyes when the pieces were aligned. There was a flash of relief on his freckled face, before he gave Tsukishima a tender smile. “You call your body pillow Tadashi?”
Tsukishima nodded, feeling his ears heating up at the open affection on Yamaguchi’s face. Yamaguchi reached for Tsukishima’s hand, entwining their fingers, and Tsukishima gently squeezed Yamaguchi’s hand in his own. This wasn’t how he expected this conversation to end, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. Yamaguchi stood from the couch, using their clasped hands to pull Tsukishima up with him.
“What are you doing?” Tsukishima asked, as Yamaguchi started tugging him down the hall toward his own bedroom.
“There’s no reason for you to sleep on the couch,” Yamaguchi answered, grinning at Tsukishima over his shoulder. “If you wanted to cuddle with me, Kei, all you had to do was ask.”
Tsukishima felt his blush spread from his ears to his cheeks, but he didn’t argue.
Half an hour later found both boys in their pajamas, in Tsukishima’s bed, arms around each other's waists, legs tangled together. Yamaguchi’s head was tucked under Tsukishima’s chin, and Tsukishima could feel his soft breathing against his neck. The body pillow lay discarded on the floor.
“Goodnight, Tadashi,” Tsukishima mumbled into Yamaguchi’s hair.
“Goodnight, Kei,” Yamaguchi replied into Tsukishima’s chest.
Neither of them had ever slept better.