Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yamaguchi was always aware of the red string tied around his little finger.

He was always aware that not everyone could see it too.

In fact, he didn't think anyone could - not with the way they look at him when he idly held the string in his palms, not when he was bullied for claiming to see a red string that no one else could. They thought he was nuts. At some point, he thought that maybe he really was. But no matter how hard he tried, there was nothing he could possibly do to remove it from his vision. It was just there.

After he met Tsukishima that fateful day at the park, he decided to never mention it again, and did his best to erase his past of being the boy who claimed to see red. Ever since he could remember, Yamaguchi lived dragging a red string around—He never told anyone the real reason why he idly stares at his hands, or look at a distance as if his eyes were following something.

He heard stories about the red string, about what it meant, about how it came to be. He watched it on television, read it in books. It was all the same:

“ The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.”

Finding out what it was for the first time as a child, Yamaguchi was more elated from the fact that the string on his little finger was made from magic, and that it was not endless as he believed—it was connected to a person somewhere in the world. That was a nice thought. Maybe they could see the red string too.

Growing up, and discovering more about the string and himself, he began to pay attention to the words destined lover, and where the red string would go if he continued to follow it. He wasn’t in a hurry to meet the person on the other end, but he couldn’t deny that he was curious.

Then back at the age of ten, Yamaguchi realized people who couldn’t see the red string had one tied around their finger too. He found out that if he reaches a certain point in his relationship with someone, he will eventually see their red string like his own— He remembered when he first found out with Tsukishima: it happened nights before the incident with his brother.

Yamaguchi was on his way home with the blond when he was asked to sleep over in his house for the night. He agreed with the permission of his mother— anyway, Tsukishima only lived a couple streets away. He could not even remember what they did that night aside from playing and talking. But he could remember what he felt during it all. It was that night Yamaguchi could wholeheartedly claim that ‘Tsukki is my best friend, and I’m his’— and when he acknowledged it with whole-hearted confidence, a string appeared on the little finger of his friend.

Ever since that night, he never saw another red string attached to anyone else. He never had such meaningful friendships after Tsukishima— 

“You’re spacing out again.”

“Oh. Sorry Tsukki.” Yamaguchi leaned back on his chair with an apologetic smile, grabbing his milkshake to distract himself. He swore he felt his string tugging. Glancing down, he looked at the red string on Tsukishima’s finger, still and firm. He still hasn’t found the person at the other end too. “So! Seijoh, huh. It’s amazing that Takeda-sensei was able to get them to practice with us.”

“I think it’s all thanks to the King though,” Tsukishima answered with a shrug.

“That’s true. They want him to be the setter for the game, right?” Yamaguchi added, finishing the last of the fries they shared. Tsukishima was never one with a big appetite.

“Yeah. I feel sort of bad for Sugawara-san, in a way,” He mumbled the latter to himself, but Yamaguchi was able to catch it. Despite the fact that Tsukishima appeared indifferent to others, he was always quite observant—Yamaguchi was about to comment, when Tsukishima raised his gaze to meet his own, a ploy to divert the topic.

“Anyway, want to watch movies in my room later?”

Yamaguchi does take the bait anyway, smiling brightly at the suggestion.

“Sure! Let’s have a marathon.” Sliding off his seat, he stands beside Tsukishima, his smile remaining as he looked up at the taller. “Let’s make it a horror movie marathon, so Tsukki will stay close to me all afternoon.”

He watched in amusement as the pale cheeks of the blond turn pink, and face away from embarrassment. “S-Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

In response, Yamaguchi laces his fingers with the other as they exit the restaurant; grin widening at the reaction of his boyfriend turning a shade darker from the display of affection. He wasn’t always like this with Tsukishima, but he had his moments. A little unapologetic this time, he repeats himself when he lets go of the hand once they were in public. “Sorry, Tsukki!” He chirped.

Walking side by side Tsukishima with their hands barely brushing against each other as they walked, Yamaguchi occasionally would glance at the red strings attached on their fingers. They tangle with one another, but they weren’t connected; he knew it since long ago— but ever since the moment his heart started to beat faster when he was around his best friend, Yamaguchi found out that it was still possible that one could fall for someone who wasn’t destined for them. His relationship with Tsukishima was the proof of this. After all, Tsukishima went against his “fate” too, even if he doesn’t know it.

He wonders if it was selfish, keeping Tsukishima from someone who may make him happier than he could ever make—yet ironically, he doesn’t want to believe that anyone could make him happier than Tsukishima already does, and he doesn’t doubt the way Tsukishima looks at him. 

Destiny…it is something that you create, is what others sometimes say. Yamaguchi wanted to believe that. 

And he hopes that wherever the person on the other end is, they were happy and creating their own destiny just as he was too.

“I think we should break up.”

The familiar line had Oikawa abruptly catching the ball he had been tossing in his hands, and sitting up from his bed to properly look at his girlfriend standing across him, arms crossed and lips in a straight line. Before he could get any word out, the speech he knew all too well by now continued.

“You’re too busy. You don’t pay attention to me. You probably love volleyball more than me, and—” Her hands roll into a fist, and Oikawa was preparing for what was to come, “And I hate that! I hate that I’m in second place! I-I’m not happy anymore, Oikawa! I expected more from our relationship! I’m—I’m really disappointed!”

Ah. There it was.

Expectations.

Disappointment.

Those two concepts often appear together when the person he was in a relationship with decides to break up with him. Though the kind of reasoning was not new to Oikawa, it would be a lie to say that he doesn’t feel bad despite the fact it was their own fault for having such high expectations on him in the first place. He wasn’t completely at fault was he? What would they expect from a team captain on his third year? That he would have a lot of free time in his hands? That he would lose focus on his dreams?

It wasn’t as if he never made an effort or compromises in their relationship; after all, he knows what he was getting into when he accepted her confession. But apparently—it was not enough for her. Despite his princely appearance and reputation in school, she wasn’t going to get everything she wants from him; or in this case, all his attention.                      

Oikawa ran his fingers through his hair, awkwardly glancing elsewhere. “Then…I guess it’s for the best that we break up, if you’re not happy anymore.”

The statement had his girlfriend, rather ex-girlfriend, taken aback, and tears were pricking the corner of her eyes. “See! And you’re not at all willing to fight for our relationship too! Did you ever like me to begin with!?”  

The question had Oikawa turn his gaze on the floor, unable to answer her question. He tried, really, but maybe he couldn’t like her the way they wanted to. Besides, she decided to break up with him, hasn’t she? Or did she think that he will beg?

An awkward silence filled the room, before Oikawa looked up with an expression that wasn’t happy, but wasn’t sad either—  “You won’t be happy with me. That’s why I won’t tell you not to go.” He simply said.

Oikawa saw the way her fist unrolled at his words, shoulders slumping in abandon. “…Fine.” And with that, he watched her go through the door, leaving him alone in his bedroom.

Lying back down on the bed with a sigh, Oikawa returned to tossing the ball over head in attempt to keep his mind distracted from his third break up. Despite the many times the scene had rolled in front of him, it still does sting— and it’s frustrating how no one can accept that part of him that prioritizes volleyball. It’s his life. It makes him happy— is that so wrong? It wasn’t as if he treated them like they were nothing. It wasn’t as if he was forcing volleyball and other interests into their life—

Another sigh escaped his lips as he paused from tossing the ball, instead staring at the red string tied around his little finger; invisible to all but him as it has always been.

He’s always been aware too, about what it is, what it meant – yet he already decided back then that he wouldn’t let it limit himself on who he would be with. Because it is true that despite the fact you are destined for someone in the world – you can still find yourself with someone else, be with them, call them your lover—but…can he say that they will truly be happy with them?

Oikawa doesn’t think so anymore. Maybe it was foolish of him to think otherwise in the first place.

He’s already concluded now; by the number of failed relationships and could-have-been-relationships he’s had, that they won’t ever find true satisfaction in anyone but the person at the end of their red string of fate. That person will be the one who will accept them for their flaws, support them with all their heart—and he will feel the same way about them. They’re soul mates.

There won’t be anyone else who will make them genuinely happy but the person on the other end of this string.

He wants to find that person already.