Chapter Text
Tsukishima Kei has always had good grades. College prep classes, academic awards, scholarship offers. But Tsukishima Kei has only two loves in this world; teasing people, and music. So when a new general arts school opened in Tokyo offering classes in music composition, music technology, and anything else he could want, he didn’t hesitate to apply.
His mother was a little disappointed that he didn’t go to a traditional college, but his brother had talked her around, saying that it was a good choice for him if she wanted him to be happy. She considered for a while, then decided that considering her emotionless son showed more emotion for music than anything else, his passion would end up getting him a legitimate career out of whatever he decided to do.
He’d gotten on the bus to his mother’s loud, if mildly tear choked, encouragement and his brother’s chattering, who was going with him for the start of his own semester. Tsukishima bears his brother’s conversation for a while then mumbles something about sleeping on the ride and puts his headphones on.
Tsukishima’s mother calls every so often to catch up, but he thinks that she has Akiteru checking up on him because he just ‘drops by’ from time to time to interrogate him. He doesn’t mind, actually, because he hasn’t made any friends, really. He’d had a few acquaintances in high school, but no close friends, and the trend has continued into college.
A few days before semester end, after his technologies class, a girl in the same program had approached him, looking shy and unsure of herself. She’s so much shorter than him he almost didn’t notice her until she tapped his elbow.
“Um, Tsukishima? I’m Yachi Hitoka, assistant manager and DJ for the college radio,” she says, making it sound like a question. Tsukishima nods, watching her silently. He’d approached the studio at the beginning of the year about working there, but they’d had no openings aside from general clerk for the shop side and he had no interest in working with the unwashed masses.
“Yeah,” he says after realising she hadn’t said anything, presumably waiting for an actual reply.
“Um, one of our DJs is graduating at semester so we have an opening now. We have on file that you approached us about being a DJ. Would you, um, are you still interested in the position?”
She looks up at him when he says nothing. He doesn’t look any different but he somehow seems more enthusiastic. He was, in fact, stamping down hard on that enthusiasm to keep it off his face. He puts a notebook in his bag, taking slow breaths to keep his voice calm.
“Yeah. That’d be great.”
“Um, he had the late night shift, from ten to two. Is that okay? We might be able to switch it up a little, but-”
“No,” Tsukishima interrupts. “No, the late night shift is fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s fantastic! Come by around nine and the manager will introduce you to the inner workings.”
Tsukishima had done just that and at the turn of the semester he’d been introduced. He’d been informed they all had nicknames and had considered for a couple days until deciding on simply Firefly. He’d settled in admirably. After a while, he had an idea. After approaching the manager, his idea had been approved and a section on the student radio website had been made so that a student could submit five songs they wanted played.
And that’s when it started. Every Saturday since the week the website was finished he’d gotten a submission under the name Constellations. It’d amused him the first time he saw the name, but then he’d started looking forward to the submissions. They had similar music taste and the consistency gave him a sense of security. After a while, he noticed that they’d gone from a collection of songs to love songs and he felt strangely jealous.
Tsukishima isn’t known for his emotional attachments, which is why the revelation that he’d gotten attached to someone he’d never met or even knew the name of, was a particularly shocking one for him. Deciding what to do might have been easier if he had someone to talk to, but he couldn’t tell his mother and Akiteru would go all gooey that he wanted to make a friend. So he decided to wing it.
“Let’s see, time for those submissions. My Saturdays sure are consistent recently; more songs from Constellations. I think I like this kid. I like your consistency, Constellations, so here’s Melancholy Hill.”
It wasn’t quite an invitation, but it was the first thing he thought of when he’d seen the name pop up on his screen. He plays the songs and eventually the end of his shift comes so he puts the radio on playlist. Tsukishima yawns and stretches, feeling his spine crack satisfyingly. He sighs and pushes open the door to studio.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Irritation creeps into his voice, one hand on his hip. He wanted to lock up and go to bed, not be the only person around to check out some owl student. Art school seems to attract the nocturnal types.
The boy jumps, looks up at him, and all Tsukishima’s irritation flees. Somehow he’s sure that this is the kid sending in those songs. He doesn’t tend to rely on instinct, but he can’t shake the feeling that this kid is Constellations. The boys hair is messy, there’s paint on his forehead like he brushed hair out of his face with a paintbrush still in hand, he’s thin in a way that makes Tsukishima think that he forgets to eat when he gets into something, and more than anything, the flush on his already dark skin pokes at something in Tsukishima that he thinks is undeniably primal.
“I, um, it’s. I was looking for,” the boy stutters, fumbling with the CD. The latest Gorillaz album. “I was, it’s too late to go to a regular store but I thought this might be open and,” he trails off pitifully. Tsukishima looks him up and down, focusing on the starry night tee-shirt and freckles. Oh yeah, this has got to be him.
“Well, well, well. Has my wit abandoned me or are you him?” Tsukishima says, lip curling at the corner. He’s amused by the boys’ expression, but his heart is pounding in his ears. He stomps on the strange nervousness curling in his gut.
“Who?” The boy manages, sounding strangled. They both know. Tsukishima isn’t sure why he denies it because the flush on his cheek and the way he won’t look Tsukishima in the eye is more than enough to tell him. Tsukishima walks up to him, resisting the urge to grab the other boy’s face and slam their lips together, just to make his point. Instead, he takes the CD.
“Let me ring this up for you,” Tsukishima says, walking around the counter to the register. The boy trails after him, fumbling in his jacket pockets for his wallet. Tsukishima considers his next move carefully. Up to this point, he’d been moving on instinct but the boy seems frightened. Probably just anxiety, but there was no need to be inconsiderate.
“Tsukishima Kei,” he says, scanning the CD. It seemed a safe enough topic, just introducing himself. His hypothesis is proved correct when the other relaxes a little.
“Yamaguchi Tadashi,” the boy replies, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Tsukishima can’t help but grin, glancing at that shirt again. Ridiculous.
“I like your shirt,” Tsukishima says, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. It doesn’t work and Yamaguchi’s entire face darkens. He looks down at his shirt and seems to struggle for the right words. His mouth opens and closes a couple times then he covers one side of his face with a hand.
“I, oh hell,” he mumbles. Tsukishima smiles and waits, fanning himself with the CD vaguely. Yamaguchi looks like he wants to say something but fumbles with his wallet instead. His hands are shaking and he jumps when Tsukishima’s hand connects with his as he hands over the CD.
“Star crossed lovers?” He says, lips curled slightly at the edges. Yamaguchi somehow manages to blush even darker. Is he going to pass out from all the blood in his face? Yamaguchi snatches his hand back, clutching the CD to his chest, and turns with mumbled thanks. Tsukishima waves at him cheerily.
“Come see me again,” he calls. Yamaguchi positively runs.