Okay, so I saw this post right here by @meliohy and it heavily inspired me to do this! So thank you very much for that haha. And this got way out of hand and is super long, and I’ve never written Tsukiyama before so I’m sorry if they’re a little OOC. Anyway, I’m pretty happy with it, so tell me what you think!
“Everyone is born with the first words their soulmate will tell them written on their skin. Some are simple, others funny, cute, or painful. No matter what, you can’t erase them. You can only wonder... who will say those words, and why?”
Yamaguchi is 5 years old when he first learns to read. He’s excited, elated even. He will finally be able to read the word printed on his neck. Yamaguchi still doesn’t quite realise what it is, or its importance. But he knows it’s a mark that everyone has and is unique to them, somehow? He doesn’t understand why, but he yearns to find out what it is, what it all means.
That’s how he ends up in the mirror, after having run up the stairs right after school, with his shirt off and his brow furrowed. He remembered to read the word backwards and everything, but he still can’t make sense of it.
“Pa... te... tic?” No, that’s not it. What sound do the t and h make again? Right! “Pa...the..tic!” Yes, yes yes!
Yamaguchi jumps around his room, fists punching the air. “Pathetic! Pathetic! Pathetic!” He screams in delight. He can pronounce it all in one go now, and he repeats it like a mantra. That’s his word. His. His feet jolt to the ground.
Yamaguchi's sure it’s something special. Surely. It must be. He runs along to the kitchen, where his mother is slicing tomatoes at the counter for dinner.
“Mamaaa!” He calls. “What does... ‘pathetic’ mean”
The knife drops on the floor with a clang. Yamaguchi gives a step back, surprised. Did he pronounce it wrong? No, he’s almost completely sure it’s correct.
His mother turns around slowly.
“Yamaguchi-bo,” Her voice is calm and sweet, but Yamaguchi can feel the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end, “Where did you hear that.”
“It’s right here, mama.” He grins, proudly pointing at his neck. He pouts. “But I don’t know what it means.” His mother gives a sigh of relief. So no other children have learnt to read it yet. And they don’t know what it means, either. But if Yamaguchi has learnt to, it’s only a matter of time before...
“Sit down here, Yamaguchi.” She pats the little stool at the kitchen table. “I’ll tell you what it means.” He nods and bounds energetically to his seat. Finally, finally. He’ll know.
That day, Yamaguchi found out what soulmates were. He still doesn’t get it. But it’s like a best friend? For life? It sounds amazing, he can’t wait to find his. But when he’s covered by his bedsheets hours later, he realises his mother never answered his question. Whatever. He’ll ask what ‘Pathetic’ means tomorrow.
Yamaguchi is 10 years old and he definitely knows what ‘pathetic’ means. He’s learnt to cover the ink on his neck with a big plaster, at first with his mother's help and then on his own. He knows what ‘pathetic’ means alright. It means he’s useless, lame, weak. Unworthy of a soulmate. It means his soulmate hates him, that the person he’s supposed to spend his life alongside wants nothing to do with him.
Yamaguchi cries to his parents, and they tell him it’s impossible. His soulmate loves him. He has to. But Yamaguchi still catches the uncertainty in their eyes.
It makes sense, doesn’t it? No one could ever love him.
He knows what being pathetic is. It’s being himself.
And one day, after school, he’s kicked down by a bunch of boys from his class. He’s used to it at this point. The name-calling, the shoves. He can already feel the bruise forming on his back, as he stares up at the boys that tower over him. But even though he’s used to it, it still hurts. He feels the burning behind his eyes, and the tears leaving wet rails down his check. His bullies don’t miss it either.
They laugh. They jeer. They taunt.
They push. They kick. They don’t stop.
And it keeps on going and going, and he can’t block it out.
Yamaguchi’s head jerks up. Who said that? He doesn't know. Some of them he’s never met. He feels his blood freeze under his skin. Of course. Here is his soulmate. It’s what he deserves, isn’t it? A bully?
His face is a mess of tears and blood and sweat and dirt and he doesn’t even know which one of them it is. They’re all shouting, saying words he can’t hear. His body is scorched and frozen all at the same time. He just wants to scream, but he’s too weak. Too weak for any of this.
None of the bullies is looking at him anymore. His eyes search around them.
A boy is walking past. He turns his head at them, his face expressionless. Yamaguchi feels a slice of hope. Will he help him? No, he looks way too cool. He’ll probably join in with the rest.
“What are you looking at?”
“Hey, isn’t he a sixth-grader?”
He sure looks like it, thinks Yamaguchi. If his bullies were towers, this one is a skyscraper. His legs are long and lanky, his pose is relaxed. He has tousled blonde hair and glasses. Yamaguchi didn’t know people with glasses could be cool.
They're in the same year group?
Yamaguchi doesn't know how he couldn’t have noticed him before. He is striking.
The boy lifts the corner of his lip into a smirk.
And keeps walking. Yamaguchi doesn’t even register the word, he is left stupefied at his attitude. He laughs in the face of his bully. He doesn’t even care. He has so much confidence. He stood up to them. He called them...
Yamaguchi doesn’t realise until his bullies are gone, and he sits alone in the mud. He can feel the dirt and sweat sticking to his skin, but he can’t make his body move. His legs are convulsing violently, he doesn’t dare try to stand.
Because... did he just meet his soulmate?
That day he goes home, and his parents see the change from just yesterday. He smiles at dinner, he hugs them goodnight. He grins at the dark ceiling. And finally, after so many years.
He doesn’t run into him until a few days later. By chance. He doesn’t realise who's behind him until the tallboy has walked past him already, into the gym. He sighs. Of course, his soulmate does volleyball.
“Thank you for the other day!”
Yamaguchi bows, but the other boy is confused.
“Have we met?” Yamaguchi almost clutches his heart, he’s sure he could hear it shatter. Shouldn’t those words be written on the blonde’s skin? Maybe, he just hasn’t realised? Or hasn’t read them?
Still, he keeps talking to the boy, full of admiration. Even if he isn’t his soulmate, he is still incredible. And cool, definitely cool. Somehow, though, he doesn’t have any other friends. Yamaguchi admits that the boy is a little cold, but he wishes he could be the same.
He learns his name is Tsukishima.
And next to him, he never gets picked on again.
Even if Tsukishima isn’t his soulmate, he’ll definitely be a good friend. And even if he isn’t his soulmate... Yamaguchi can’t help but hope he is.
Yamaguchi is 13 years old when things aren’t like they used to be. He doesn’t care if Tsukki is his soulmate or not. (At least, that’s what he tells himself) But he is his best friend. Tsukki knows Yamaguchi's soul mark is on his neck, covered, but he doesn’t know what it says. They never talk about his own.
Things aren’t like they used to be, because now Yamaguchi feels things. Before, he just felt happiness. To be next to Tsukki, to talk to him, to follow him, play with him. Anything with Tsukishima, he just felt happy.
However, now he has to fight himself. When Tsukishima says his name, he has to fight not to squirm. When he leans on him, he fights not to scream. And every rare time Tsukishima shares his music and offers a singular earphone, he has to fight his own body. He can feel his hands tingling, aching to grab his face. He fights his eyes, to keep them from staring at his best friend’s lips. And he fights his own lips, and the constant urge to lean in and crash his mouth against the other’s.
“Yamaguchi!” His best friend calls, hand beckoning him, “Walk with me to school.”
“Yes, Tsukki.” He scurries forward, as flowers bloom in his ribcage, “What are you listening to?”
Even if everything is different, at least that’s the same.
Yamaguchi is 16 and he’s never been surer of anything in his life. He’s in love with his best friend. But they aren’t soulmates. Knowing Yamaguchi’s luck, it was probably one of the boys who bullied him as a child. Otherwise, Tsukishima would have recognised the words he said, so long ago.
He’s grown used to all these feelings. The strain on his lungs when they lock eyes, the prickling of the skin Tsukki grazes, the acceleration of his blood flow, on the rare occasion his friend smiles. Most of all, he’s used to the agony in his chest, when he remembers: Tsukishima isn’t his soulmate. And all the good moments disappear; those lethargic, comfy mornings after sleeping over, the pride in Tsukkis eyes after a match, the strawberry shortcake shared at lunch. None of it matters.
Because they aren’t soulmates.
And Yamaguchi gets stabbed in the chest, over and over and over. Maybe if he stopped hanging around Tsukishima all the time, stopped following his every command with alacrity, stopped giving in to the velleity of kissing his lips, stopped backing up every sarcastic joke. Maybe then, it would stop hurting so goddamn much.
Soulmate or not, he couldn’t bear to be apart from him.
Sometimes, Yamaguchi let his mind wander. What if Tsukki realised they were soulmates? What if he confessed?
And sometimes, his mind went in the other direction. What if Tsukki knew Yamaguchi was his soulmate but didn’t want it to be him? What if he hated him?
Those were worse, and plagued his every dream at night.
But Yamaguchi had grown used to it. All of it. But nothing had changed since he was a child. Because even though he’s used to it, it doesn’t stop it from hurting. And it is so much worse than getting punched, or kicked or teased. And it never stops.
One day, at volleyball practice, something happens, like a slice to the throat.
Hinata and Kageyama are soulmates.
“How did it take you so long to find out?” Yamaguchi asks, confused.
”Hey! You didn’t realise either!” They start yelling at each other, and Yamaguchi looks over at Tsukki.
“Of course those two idiots are soulmates.” And it’s the way he rolls his eyes at the word ‘soulmates’ that twists the blade in his chest.
“I’ll be back,” Yamaguchi mutters, pushing Tsukishima on his way out the door, head bowed.
“What’s wrong with Yamaguchi-Kun?” Asks Yachi.
”Don’t know.” Tsukishima shrugs. But all through practice, he worries. Especially when his friend does not return.
Did he have a crush on Hinata or something? Is that why he left? He’d never seen Yamaguchi so upset. Not like that, at least. He just looked... empty.
Yamaguchi did in fact, feel empty. He felt cold, and light, way too light. Like he could float straight through the ceiling of his room and into the sky. He wanted to be sick, he felt like he was going to. But he had nothing in his system.
Did Tsukki even believe in soulmates? Did he even care? At all?
He grabbed a book from the shelf and threw it against the wall. The pages flew apart, and the spine collapsed.
Yamaguchi realised that felt good.
Well, it felt.. something.
SO he kept going. He didn’t limit himself to books, he threw his chair, his posters, his shoes. Anything that would suffer from it. He was so tired of holding all the damage.
He hurled a big, thick book at his bedroom door. The pages went everywhere, one landing on his feet. Shit. It was a photo album.
Yamaguchi’s arms trembled, as he bent down to turn the photo over. It was of him and Tsukishima, at the age of 11. It was before his growth spurt, so Yamaguchi's head barely touched Tsukki’s chest. And they were both smiling, in brand new volleyball gear.
A teardrop fell on the picture.
Yamaguchi didn’t even know he was crying. His knees crumbled before him. He hit the ground. Hard. But he couldn’t get up. Couldn’t even stop crying. Didn’t even know why he was crying. He was just exhausted. From trying. From feeling. From everything. And he was weak. He knew he was. He always had been.
But he hadn’t felt it until now, now that his sobs had become screams. He could feel the tension in every muscle, and he let go of everything, like a broken tap. He kept screaming and crying and wailing and he forgot to keep it to himself.
Tsukishima was in the doorway. He wanted to strangle him and kiss him all at once.
“How did you get in?” Yamaguchi heard his voice creak. It was hoarse, from his previous catharsis.
“You gave me a key, Yamaguchi.”
He didn’t get up from the floor, just stared down at the photograph. Willing himself, to go back in time. To stop himself from ever meeting Tsukki. From ever feeling this heartbreak.
“This is going to take a long time to clean up.”
“Shut up, Tsukki!” He gasped at himself. Oh no. He didn’t mean to shout and oh god, he was just caught up and emotional and-
“Sorry, Yamaguchi.” His voice was caught in his throat.
Said life-ruiner knelt down next to Yamaguchi.
“Mind telling me what happened?” Yamaguchi stared up at his friend. His golden eyes had never been so soft. So... caring. He restrained himself from collapsing into his chest.
“I just...”He whispered, unsure. “Tsukki... do you believe in soulmates?"
Tsukishima almost toppled over from his crouch. His best friend was surprised by the question but instantly recomposed himself.
“Yes, I do.”He looked at the ground. “Is that what this is about?”
They both sat down next to each other, crumpling papers and cracking splinters scattered on the bedroom floor.
“Tsukki, why do you...” Yamaguchi took a deep breath, “Why do you never talk about your soul mark?”
“Why don’t you talk about yours?” He retorted.
Yamaguchi felt his cheeks come aflame.
“Fine. We’re best friends. I guess I could talk about it.” Yamaguchi stared at his friend, mouth agape. Was he really...?
“I like the idea of soulmates. I really do, actually. But... I just don’t want to fall in love with someone because of some words on my skin. Or even, be forced to fall in love with someone when I could just as easily fall for someone else. Someone who maybe isn’t designed to be with me, but maybe I like them more or know them longer or, whatever. I don’t like being told who I’ve been paired up with. I don’t want to be told what to do.”
Yamaguchi nodded silently. Definitely sounded like Tsukishima.
“So... when I was a kid and I learnt about soulmates I... I bandaged the words off. And... I never looked at them again. I kept the bandage on as long as possible, and I close my eyes in the shower. I started when I was really young, so I don’t remember what it says.”
Yamaguchi’s eyes widened.
“I want to fall in love with someone because I love them. Not because some ink says I should. And then...” Tsukishima paused, his fingers picking at each other like baby crows. “When I was older, I really, really wanted to look. I was desperate and curious as hell. But I didn’t. Because, well... I just really wanted it to be you.”
Yamaguchi felt his heart stop. He was no longer breathing. Time no longer existed inside his body, every cell was stuck in place. Tsukishima continued, without a glance at his deadlike best friend.
“And I knew it couldn’t possibly be you because you would have said something. But, as long as I didn’t look, I could let myself hope you know? Schrödinger's cat and all that. I just couldn’t imagine being soulmate to anyone but you and I just wanted it to be, more than anything else.”
Tsukishima let out a fake laugh.
“Tsukki.” His voice cracked, and his friend finally turned to look at him. His freckles were decorated with the paths his tears had travelled and his purple lips were trembling. He had to say something. Anything. To let Tsukki know that it was okay. But he couldn’t. All he could do was stare and stare. His throat was dry and rough, like sandpaper.
Pain shot round his neck, as he ripped the plaster off. He had no words in his mouth, but he did on his body. Tsukki’s eyes widened and his lips parted as he read the word.
Wordless, he lifted up his shirt, where a big white bandage covered the top of his left ribcage.
Yamaguchi and Tsukishima shared one last unsure look before he tore it off his body with a hiss.
Yamaguchi looked at him. The skin there was paler than his already pallid body, and it heaved rapidly along with his breaths. But most striking of all, were the words written across his heart.
“Thank you for the other day”
