Work Text:
It was the same routine every day: wake up at six, get to work at eight, leave at seven, and make it back home at nine. Nothing really changed aside from Tsukishima’s day-to-day attempts to vary his lunches and…him.
He was a mystery—a man also in his early twenties who was always in Tsukishima’s night bus. Part of Tsukishima’s commute was a forty-five minute bus ride from the train station to his apartment complex in the boondocks. Every weekday he got off in the second to last stop, leaving this man to ride alone to the last one. Tsukishima didn’t know for how long they had been taking the same bus since he had a habit of putting on his pink headphones and sticking his nose in a book to block out the world. But about three months ago, when he got to a good place to pause in his book, he decided to look outside from his window seat on the bus and instead of the snow covering everything in white, his eyes caught that man's reflection from across the aisle. He was...different.
With long mossy-brown hair that hit his shoulders and was styled half-up half-down to expose the many piercings in his ears, an affinity to the color black, and a spiky leather jacket—he drew a lot of attention, Tsukishima's included. But he paid no mind to the eyes burying into him. He simply leaned against the window with his earbuds on and trained his eyes on his phone screen for the duration of the ride. Not that Tsukishima would watch him for the whole forty-five minutes! He'd just peek over occasionally, when the scene in his book allowed him a breath, and took note of small details regarding this man.
His hands were long and delicate, nails rounded into an almond shape and always painted black. He liked to stack rings on his fingers, and would mix and match different types of black and silver bands. Sometimes his mouth would break into a smile while staring at his phone, and soon after a sweet, muffled laugh would follow. Tan freckles dusted his nose and cheeks and they were beautiful—he was beautiful.
Today, though he was still wearing his iconic leather jacket, he had also donned a burgundy beanie and a big black scarf. It was the middle of December after all, at one point he had to get cold. The fact that it took him this long baffled Tsukishima, who had already busted out his scarf and extra layers back in November. Just looking at him made Tsukishima shiver, and he sunk deeper into his light blue knit scarf and thick camel coat. He set his book to the side and rested his head on the window; his coworkers had dragged him out of work early to get drinks and he was tired from all the forced social interaction and the alcohol. There was still a long way until his stop so closing his eyes for a little bit…wouldn't…hurt.
“...Hey. Hey.”
Tsukishima felt a hand softly shake his shoulder. He slowly opened his eyes and found round brown ones staring at him. It took him a few seconds to recognize the owner of those lovely eyes, but the moment he did, he sat up with a jolt.
“Uh—”
“I was afraid you’d miss your stop.” The man gave him a warm smile. His freckles looked even more charming when sitting on top of his smiling lips. “It was a shame to wake you when you’d been sleeping so peacefully, but your stop is coming up.”
“Yeah.” Tsukishima nodded, a bit speechless from the sudden interaction. “Thanks.”
“No problem…”
The man looked like he wanted to say something else, but at that moment the bus halted and the bus driver announced his stop. Tsukishima hurriedly grabbed his bag and shuffled out of his seat, giving the man yet another awkward nod before leaving the bus. And all the while walking to his apartment building, opening his door, and taking off his shoes, he thought about how dumb he must have looked during the interaction. He decided the best way to repair that horrible first impression was to thank him again on Monday, this time with more than one word.
Tsukishima reached inside his bag for his phone and the book he was trying to work through before falling asleep on the bus. He found his phone, but after thoroughly looking through his bag a realization struck him: he forgot the book on the damn bus.
“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath.
Now, most people’s only concern with leaving a book behind on the bus is a bit of sadness that it might be lost forever. For Tsukishima the former didn’t bother him at all, he could just get another copy from his workplace. What did concern him was that the man might have noticed that Tsukishima left his book behind and looked inside to see what he was reading. Because what he was currently reading, well, truthfully, what he was almost always reading was a very sappy and romantic shoujo manga.
Tsukishima started liking shoujo manga when he was in college. Growing up he had read shounen like every other boy, but soon got bored of the seemingly repetitive plots. He chalked it up to having “outgrown” manga in general and moved on to novels. But one day while aimless browsing the library shelves, he picked up the first volume of Lovely Complex, and that was the start of his secret obsession. When he graduated college he applied to many office jobs, one of them being the editorial department of his favorite manga company, Shogakukan. Though the hiring manager apologized that their only editorial position was in the department responsible for making Ciao, one of the most popular shoujo manga magazines in Japan, Tsukishima quietly thanked the gods and accepted the position.
Only his family and closest friends knew of his love for shoujo—and that’s solely because it was going to be more trouble hiding it from them than just being honest. And he didn’t tell his coworkers outright, but they were slowly getting the sense that despite Tsukishima’s indifferent expression, he actually enjoyed working in their department. Tsukishima wasn’t necessarily ashamed of it, but he did feel self-conscious of being a grown twenty-two year old guy reading shoujo. He didn’t want people judging him solely based on his hobby. So he always put a book sleeve on his manga when he read them outside.
Except a freaking book sleeve was not going to stop that guy from looking inside and finding out he was reading shoujo. The same guy Tsukishima was trying to save face with by thanking him again for his good deed (and who he found highly attractive). Just his fucking luck.
But…maybe he didn’t look inside. Maybe he didn’t even notice Tsukishima dropped the book and the proof of his shame was lost forever. This stubbornly positive thought was the only thing helping Tsukishima get through the weekend and Monday work hours without growing more and more mortified. When it came time to ride the bus, he sat in his usual seat and hyper-vigilantly watched the door. Once they reached the stop that the man usually boarded the bus on, Tsukishima held his breath to see where the man would sit. The man saw him, gave him a tiny smile, and sat right next to him. Tsukishima had never wanted so badly to have the power to dissolve into the seat and disappear from this earth.
“Hello.”
“Hey.”
“Um, you dropped your book last time.” The man opened his pin covered messenger bag and took out Tsukishima’s book, handing it to him. “Here you go.”
Tsukishima took the book and held it in his lap. “Thank you, uh, for this and for waking me up last time.” He stared down at the pale green book sleeve and rubbed his finger against the soft surface.
The man turned a bit toward him and cleared his throat. “I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi…I noticed we’re always on the night bus together. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.”
Tsukishima looked up and met the man—Yamaguchi’s—gaze for the first time. It was curious and incredibly warm. “I’m Tsukishima Kei.” He also had wanted to talk to him for a long time, but he wasn’t brave enough to say it.
“Tsukishima, huh.” Yamaguchi grinned to himself.
“…” Tsukishima simply stared at him. He was never really good at talking to strangers and was a bit star struck by how close Yamaguchi was sitting. Every detail he had noticed from across the bus these weeks prior were just a few inches away, calling to him.
“So, I know it was rude of me, but I took a peek inside.” Yamaguchi furrowed his eyebrows and put his hands together apologetically. “Sorry, curiosity got the best of me.”
Tsukishima sighed, shrugging a bit. “What did you think? It’s weird that someone like me is reading shoujo, isn’t it?”
“What? No, actually—” Yamaguchi paused, biting his lip and tucking hair behind his ear as he lowered his gaze. “I think it suits you well.”
“You’re the first person to say that,” Tsukishima muttered and laughed through his nose.
“I like it too, you know.”
“What? Shoujo?”
“Yeah.” Yamaguchi pulled out his phone and tapped a video streaming app. “You probably won’t believe me but I was in the middle of watching the first season of the series you are reading. Kimi ni Todoke, right?” Yamaguchi showed Tsukishima his progress.
Tsukishima looked down at the phone and then up at Yamaguchi again. “Why wouldn’t I believe you?”
“Well, because…” Yamaguchi shook his head and put his phone back in his pocket. “Forget it, it’s dumb.”
They were silent for a while. Tsukishima stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked through the window at the trees, rice fields, and tiny houses they were passing by. He could feel Yamaguchi staring at him so he turned around again, and gave him his attention.
Yamauchi tugged at the rips in his black jeans. “How long have you liked it?”
“Since college.” Tsukishima thumbed through the pages of the book in his lap. “But I actually work for a shoujo manga magazine, so I’m always reading it now.”
Yamaguchi’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s awesome! Editorial department?”
“Yeah…” Tsukishima looked at him suspiciously. “Did you guess that because of the glasses?”
Yamaguchi chuckled and stuck out his tongue. “Pretty much.”
God damn, he was so endearing. Tsukishima hoped he wasn't being obvious in his ogling. What was he even supposed to do now? He should probably ask him about himself since so far Yamaguchi was the only one doing the asking. Yeah, he’d do that.
“What about you? What do you do?”
Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Eh, on the weekdays I’m a gallery assistant. And on some weekends I’m in an amateur rock band that plays in coffee houses and clubs, places like that.”
“Oh…that makes sense.”
“You mean the whole punk look?” Yamaguchi smirked. “Yeah, that started before the band thing.”
Tsukishima pushed up his glasses and looked down at his book again. His heart couldn’t take much more of this guy smiling at him. “What do you play?”
“I play some guitar, but I’m mostly their vocalist.”
“That’s cool.” Tsukishima couldn’t help but think that he wanted to hear what Yamaguchi sounded like. Not that he would tell him that.
“You should come hear us play.” Yamaguchi sifted through his bag again and took out a leaflet. “If you’re not doing anything on Christmas Eve, we’re having an event at the café in the station.”
Tsukishima looked at the leaflet, slid it into his book, and put the book away in his bag. His stop was coming up so Yamaguchi got out of his seat to let him by. “I’ll come,” Tsukishima replied.
“You will?”
“Sure.” Tsukishima shrugged, “I have nothing to do on that day anyhow,” and gave him a quick wave as he stepped off the bus. His usual walk home felt strangely warm.
They sat together everyday until the night of the Christmas Eve event. Often they would talk about what happened at work that day, or current things they were in charge of. There were times Yamaguchi would convince Tsukishima to watch the first episode of the anime version of a shoujo manga they had both read. In those moments Yamaguchi would offer an ear bud, and Tsukishima would lean close, touching shoulders, to watch from Yamaguchi’s phone screen. But he wasn’t really paying attention—his mind was busy making note of the sweet scent of Yamaguchi’s cologne and musical note to his laughter.
Sometimes Yamaguchi would sit there listening to his music while Tsukishima read whatever manga he was currently enjoying. If the workday had been a tough one, Tsukishima would wake up on Yamaguchi’s shoulder, having fallen asleep without noticing. He’d give a short apology, ears turning red from embarrassment, and Yamaguchi would shake his head with a soft smile.
“Don’t worry. I’ve also done it.” He’d reply.
And it was true, there was one time he had fallen asleep on Tsukishima’s shoulder. They were watching a video on Yamaguchi’s phone and Tsukishima felt a weight on his shoulder. He didn’t mind; having Yamaguchi this close to him was comfortable. He paused the video and stared at the back of the seat in front of them, listening to Yamaguchi’s soft breath and thinking about how hard he was falling for him.
Tsukishima felt very out of place in this Christmas event. The café was mostly filled with other people that had an affinity to black or had an actual interest in the kind of music that was blaring from the stage. Tsukishima was neither. He sat in a table all the way to the left, with his favorite lilac cardigan and a white button up, and a completely disinterested face. It wasn’t that the music was necessarily displeasing, it was just the sole purpose for him coming to this thing was to see Yamaguchi. So he was going to be grouchy until he did.
Luckily, Tsukishima didn’t have to wait much longer. Yamaguchi’s band, Harken Spear, was the main act and there had only been two opening acts before they took the stage. Yamaguchi walked to the microphone and addressed the cheering crowd while his band members settled into their instruments. He had a messy bun, perfectly winged eyeliner, and was wearing a grey distressed muscle tee, a plaid long sleeve around his waist, and tight black skinny jeans. He looked so good—he always did— but even more so up on that stage. With the microphone by his lips and all the eyes on him, he was radiating.
The first song was upbeat and loud, but even with all the things that would usually distract Tsukishima, he was completely focused on Yamaguchi’s voice. It was a bit scratchy yet also smooth and alluring. It had the perfect balance of roughness and charm, with great countertenor to baritone range. And it wasn’t only his voice, the way he worked the microphone and moved around the stage was enrapturing. The crowd sang along passionately to every song. And Tsukishima continued to sit there with his eyes trained on Yamaguchi, hands sweating, and heartbeat louder than the band’s drums.
Harken Spear ended the night with a mellow song heavy on vocals and soft on drums and guitar. It used the wide range of Yamaguchi’s wonderful voice and was easily Tsukishima’s favorite of the night. As the song reached its end, the soft drums and guitar still playing in the background, Yamaguchi spoke to the audience.
“This was dedicated to that magical chance encounter you may have had this year or will hopefully have next year.” Yamaguchi glanced towards Tsukishima’s direction and gave him a wicked smile. “Merry Christmas.”
Did he look directly at him? It was possible that he was just imagining what he wanted to have happened. But if it really was directed at him then that could mean…
Tsukishima spent the next twenty minutes with these thoughts whirling in his head.
“Hi.” Yamaguchi said as he walked to Tsukishima’s table. “Thanks for coming.”
Tsukishima snapped out of it, looking around him to see that most of the café had emptied out while he was having his internal crisis. “No problem…” Tsukishima put on his coat and scarf, standing up to talk to Yamaguchi face-to-face. “You were really good,” he admitted.
Yamaguchi’s face went red and he quickly looked down at his shoes to hide his expression. “Thank you…I’m really happy you think that.”
Yamaguchi was unbearably cute like this—he was increasingly more precious with every expression and action he made. Tsukishima wished he could lower his pride for two seconds to tell him so. But instead he only pushed these feelings further down his throat and checked his watch. “The last bus should be coming soon.”
“Oh.” Yamaguchi looked up again, his blush faint but persistent. “I’m also heading home. Do you want to walk there together?”
“Yeah.” Tsukishima stuffed his hands in his coat. “I do.”
Yamaguchi grinned. “Okay. Let’s go.”
The café was in the opposite side of the station than the bus stop so they had quite a bit to walk. They talked about their plans for tomorrow, and it pretty much consisted of food and family for the both of them. Yamaguchi led them diagonally across the station, but took an efficient but often-unused walkway running on the outside left wall off the station. It had an overhead covering but the piling snow blew about around them.
Tsukishima burrowed further into his scarf. “You know we could have kept walking inside, right?”
“I do,” Yamaguchi replied and stopped walking.
Tsukishima also stopped, somewhat miserable but also curious as to why Yamaguchi was biting his lip and taping his leg so nervously.“…”
“Uh, um.” Yamaguchi took a step closer to Tsukishima and retrieved a small rectangular gift from his bag. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks but this is for you.”
“Huh?” Tsukishima looked down at the gift. “But I have nothing for you.”
Yamaguchi shook his head. “It’s fine. Please open it.”
“Okay.” Tsukishima carefully unwrapped the box, hands shaking from the cold and his own nerves, and opened it to reveal a pair of light blue gloves.
“They match your scarf. It was surprisingly hard to find the exact shade but I hope they are close enough.” Yamaguchi took another step closer. “There’s one more thing—”
“—I like you,” Tsukishima muttered and then shortly realized what had come out of his mouth. He snapped his head up, face and ears burning red. “I-I mean, what I meant was I like the gloves,” he clumsily tried to correct himself.
“I can’t believe you beat me to it,” Yamaguchi laughed, face burning up with equal intensity to Tsukishima’s. “I also like you—I mean, the gloves.”
“That smug look makes me want to take it back,” Tsukishima grumbled, eyebrows furrowed.
“Please don't,” Yamaguchi whispered, gaze locked to Tsukishima’s.
Tsukishima glanced around them and returned his gaze to Yamaguchi’s face, eyes unconsciously traveling to his lips. “…Can I kiss you?” He had wanted to for so long.
Yamaguchi nodded, reaching for Tsukishima’s free hand. It was icy, but warmed up quickly when intertwined with Yamaguchi’s warm one. Tsukishima leaned forward to gently press their lips together for a few moments; Yamaguchi’s lips were incredibly soft, and felt good on his own. Yamaguchi placed his other hand on Tsukishima’s cheek and slowly moved his lips against Tsukishima’s, breaths exchanging, and the freezing temperature long forgotten.
After a few minutes Yamaguchi pulled away with a blissful smile. He squeezed Tsukishima’s hand just slightly before letting it go. “We should head to the bus or we’ll miss it.”
“Yeah…” Tsukishima replied, somewhat dazed. He looked at his gift box for a second and carefully put it inside his bag.
“You’re not going to put it on now? We still have a little bit to walk.”
Tsukishima smirked and grabbed Yamaguchi’s hand again, leading them towards the bus. “When I’m with you I don't need it.”