The Chemistry of Love.

Cracks in the Armor

For the next week, Tsukishima found himself more distracted than usual, which was an impressive feat considering how hard he worked to keep his cool. Practice, classes, and even his late-night study sessions blurred into a routine he was following on autopilot. But beneath that familiar rhythm, his thoughts kept drifting back to Kuroo.

He hadn't expected that one conversation over coffee to linger like this. It was like Kuroo had cracked something open in Tsukishima, something that Tsukishima had kept buried for years—his own doubts, his cautiousness, and his tendency to hold himself back. He'd always told himself that being realistic was the smartest approach, that getting too involved or passionate about things would only lead to disappointment. But after meeting with Kuroo, Tsukishima couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was using that as an excuse.

And it wasn't just the volleyball stuff that bothered him anymore. It was Kuroo himself.

They'd exchanged a few texts since the café meeting—nothing too deep, mostly banter or comments about practice—but each message felt charged with something unspoken. Something that made Tsukishima's stomach twist every time his phone buzzed with a new notification from Kuroo.

He found himself glancing at his phone between classes, half hoping and half dreading that Kuroo might text him. When he didn't, Tsukishima felt a strange sense of disappointment, though he'd never admit it out loud.

During practice one evening, Tsukishima's distraction got the better of him. He was running through blocking drills with the team, his mind wandering to the last conversation he'd had with Kuroo.

"Tsukki!" Hinata's voice cut through his thoughts, but it was too late.

The ball sailed past his outstretched fingers, landing with a solid thud on the court behind him.

"Oi, Tsukishima! Focus!" Daichi called from across the court, frowning in concern.

Tsukishima muttered a quick apology, his face heating up with embarrassment. He never messed up like this, not on something as basic as blocking. He forced himself to refocus, shaking off the thoughts of Kuroo and throwing himself back into practice.

By the time practice ended, Tsukishima was more irritated with himself than usual. He stayed behind after everyone else had left, working on his blocks alone in an attempt to shake the tension out of his body. He was mid-jump when his phone buzzed in his bag.

He ignored it at first, focusing on his movements. But after a few minutes, curiosity got the better of him. He walked over to his bag, pulling out his phone.

*Kuroo Tetsuro*: *Thinking about me again? You seemed off during practice.*

Tsukishima froze, his heart doing a weird flip in his chest. How did Kuroo know he'd been distracted? He frowned at the message, debating whether or not to respond.

*Kuroo Tetsuro*: *You're easy to read, Tsukki.*

Tsukishima scowled, typing out a quick reply.

*Tsukishima Kei*: *You don't know what you're talking about.*

The reply came almost immediately.

*Kuroo Tetsuro*: *Oh, I think I do. Meet me tomorrow after practice. Same place.*

Tsukishima stared at the message, feeling that familiar mix of annoyance and something he couldn't quite name. Why did Kuroo always manage to get under his skin like this? And why did he keep agreeing to these meetings?

With a sigh, Tsukishima sent a simple reply: *Fine.*

---

The next day after practice, Tsukishima made his way to the café near the station, feeling more on edge than he'd care to admit. He didn't understand why he felt so nervous. It wasn't like this was anything out of the ordinary—just two players from rival schools talking. But the longer Tsukishima spent around Kuroo, the more he realized that wasn't all this was.

Kuroo was already waiting when Tsukishima arrived, sitting at the same table by the window with his signature smirk in place. Tsukishima didn't bother with pleasantries as he slid into the seat across from him.

"What's with the cryptic messages?" Tsukishima asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Cryptic? I was just checking on you, Tsukki."

Tsukishima shot him a glare. "I'm fine. You don't need to keep checking in like I'm some project you're working on."

Kuroo leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at Tsukishima with that infuriatingly knowing gaze. "You really think that's what this is?"

Tsukishima didn't answer. He couldn't, not when Kuroo was looking at him like that—like he could see right through him.

"You're holding back again," Kuroo said quietly, his voice soft but firm. "Not just in volleyball, but in everything."

Tsukishima's chest tightened. He didn't want to admit it, but Kuroo was right. He'd been holding back for so long—keeping people at arm's length, avoiding getting too close, too invested in anything or anyone.

"You're so used to keeping yourself guarded," Kuroo continued, his tone gentle, "that you don't even realize when someone actually wants to get close to you."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Tsukishima felt his breath catch in his throat. Was Kuroo really saying what Tsukishima thought he was saying?

"I'm not Hinata, or Kageyama," Kuroo said, his eyes never leaving Tsukishima's. "I'm not going to push you into something you're not ready for. But I'm also not going to pretend that there's nothing between us."

Tsukishima's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through him. He'd never been good at dealing with his emotions, especially not when it came to something as confusing as this. But Kuroo was right—there was something between them, something that had been building ever since that first training camp.

"I don't know what you want from me," Tsukishima said quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the café.

Kuroo smiled, but it wasn't the usual teasing grin Tsukishima was used to. It was softer, more genuine. "I don't want anything from you, Tsukki. I just want you to be honest with yourself."

The silence stretched between them, the weight of Kuroo's words pressing down on Tsukishima's chest. He hated that Kuroo could read him so easily, that he seemed to know exactly what Tsukishima was thinking, even when Tsukishima wasn't sure himself.

"I don't know if I can do that," Tsukishima admitted, his voice tight with frustration.

Kuroo reached across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against Tsukishima's hand. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity through Tsukishima's body.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now," Kuroo said softly. "But I'm not going anywhere, Tsukki. I'll wait."

Tsukishima swallowed hard, his mind racing. He didn't know how to respond, didn't know if he was ready to face whatever this was between them. But for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like running away.

Maybe, just maybe, he could let his guard down—just a little.

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