Chapter Text
This was the second time this week that Tsukishima came slinking by, looking through the windows. Dragging his feet. Mouth held in a pressed line. He was probably coming back from doing some kind of extra work at the office, and yet he seemed… skittish.
At this point, it was getting more than a little ridiculous- seeing a grown man kick his feet and trudge on past something as innocuous as a gym, watching him shuffle past to do nothing at all back at his apartment. Staring through the windows at the row of punching bags, at the little cluster of rings toward the back. Koito was starting to get more than a little peeved.
God, if there was something that got underneath Koito’s skin (more than that flickering fluorescent light in the very very back, the one that never went out and gave him a headache every time he so much as walked past that spot) it was seeing someone chicken out of something. It was goddamn obvious Tsukishima wanted to step inside the place to anyone with a functioning pair of eyes- which, surprise, Koito was in the lucky possession of!- and seeing him loiter around like a kid waiting to get permission was maddening.
It shouldn’t have even been that hard! The place was closing pretty soon. It was late, and a weeknight and the place was almost empty, except for himself and a few regulars. And the owner, but Gansoku wasn’t exactly in view, having probably gone off to finish some kind of owner something or other. It would’ve been the easiest thing in the world for Tsukishima to walk in.
Tsukishima shuffled a little closer to the door this time around. That was good! It was something. Koito took a swig of his water bottle and went back to watching, hiding partially behind the punching bag he hadn’t even so much as tapped in the span of the last five minutes.
Now all Tsukishima had to do was just. Touch the handle. Throw open the door. Sure, Gansoku might have wanted to talk his ear off when he got in, but there’d still be more than enough time to get into the grit of everything. Koito could even give him some pointers!
For once, Koito had actually been someplace for longer than Tsukishima had- he could finally get one over on him and lord that experience over him, like Tsukishima had at the office when Koito first arrived, or how Tsukishima had likely privately laughed at Koito for accidentally getting his socks mixed in with Tsukishima’s shit. How was Koito supposed to have known that their apartment building had a color-coded system for determining which apartment was using that floor’s washing machine? It was bullshit. It was bullshit that Tsukishima knew so much.
Of course, Tsukishima had to actually walk in through the door, instead of hesitating there like an absolute tool. Silently, Koito gestured towards the back of the gym, boring a stare straight into Tsukishima’s stupid, stupid rugged face. Come on, Koito bemoaned silently, trying to get Tsukishima’s attention. It appeared as if Tsukishima had tuned Koito’s entire presence out completely.
Before Koito could have the chance to make any grander gestures, muscles tensing, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned around (and didn’t screech at all, thank you very much, that could have been anyone) and caught the big brown eyes of one of the regulars.
Sugimoto- Koito honestly couldn’t stand his guts, but after a few weeks (mostly consisting of them beating the ever-loving shit out of each other in the ring), he’d started to… well, not warm up to him. The man’s friendly demeanor and casual vibe still rubbed Koito the wrong way. But Koito could respect someone who had those guts, and was a good fighter. He wasn’t happy about it. Be he would give that respect nonetheless.
“Hey, you okay there, Koito?” Sugimoto asked, damnably oblivious. “You’re acting a little-”
“Shh!” Koito didn’t have time to deal with this shit. He started shoving Sugimoto behind the punching bag as well, glancing back at the glass doors- only to catch Tsukishima’s eye. Oh, so when Koito wanted to get attention, he was ignored, but now because of this joker, Tsukishima decided to look up? Fucking Sugimoto-
“He looks familiar… Is that guy a friend of yours?” Sugimoto said, peeking his head and stupid hat out. Then, he waved, apparently trying to seem welcoming.
Just as soon as Sugimoto did that, Tsukishima turned his back on the doors of the gym and scurried the fuck away. Okay, well, it probably wouldn’t have looked like scurrying to anyone else watching- it’d probably just look like Tsukishima was calmly walking away, not in too much of a hurry- but Koito knew Tsukishima well enough to tell when the son of a bitch was turning tail and running! Bastard. Didn’t even walk in, what a flaky-
“Huh… guess he forgot something at home?” Sugimoto mused, oblivious and stupid. So stupid! Stupid, stupid, dumb! It was making Koito’s blood boil.
Koito punched Sugimoto’s arm, only to get blocked by Sugimoto’s quick hand. Koito tried punching again, hissing out, “Well now you’ve done it!”
“What did I do?!” Sugimoto held his hands up placatingly.
“You scared Tsukishima away!!” Koito snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was trying to come in here and-”
Then, Sugimoto interrupted, sporting a look on his face as if a lightbulb had flickered slightly in that dim head of his, “Oh! He wouldn’t happen to be named Tsukishima Hajime, would he?”
Koito balked at that for a second before pausing his assault, bewildered. “Yeah, actually- how do you know his name?”
“Well, hell,” Sugimoto laughed a bit, face lighting up, “Tsukishima Hajime! I haven’t seen him since I moved high schools, back in third year.”
Koito squinted a bit. “You knew each other?” He wouldn’t have imagined Sugimoto to be the type of company that Tsukishima would ever want to hang out with- too saccharine, too plain, too reckless in a totally lame and unendearing way.
But then again, he didn’t know anything about Tsukishima as a high schooler; he might have been… sweet, at some point. For a moment, Koito had an image in his head of a sweetly smiling, teenage Tsukishima, holding like. A puppy or some other miscellaneous adorable animal. Cherry blossoms everywhere. School uniform pristinely pressed, a class rep band on his arm. Overly friendly and holding onto the hands of whatever rejected girl he was comforting
But then the image made him sick to his stomach because he just- Koito couldn’t reconcile such a sappy idealistic picture of youthful innocence to Tsukishima. Tsukishima, who looked about as haggard as a bog witch on a regular basis. Koito just couldn’t imagine a Tsukishima who didn’t have an unfortunate case of resting bitch face settled over such cute features. In any case, the previous mental image was so stupid (especially with the random high school romance element of the girls fawning over him??) and Koito would have loved to forget it.
“No, no,” Sugimoto thankfully elaborated, “I didn’t like, know him personally. He mostly kept to himself, and I saw him a few times. But he was a big topic around campus! Really mysterious, and he kept getting at the top of the class, despite not talking to a single teacher…”
Oh, okay. That version of high school Tsukishima sounded more plausible. There was another image in his head of a clean-shaven Tsukishima, straight-laced to an embarrassing degree, who probably holed himself up in his room for hours upon hours to study and keep his grades in tip-top shape. Koito didn’t exactly see how it was so mysterious, of course- it just seemed kind of nerdy. Koito wondered if Tsukishima had those dumb swirly glasses like this one kid he knew too-
Then, Sugimoto threw him a curveball, suddenly becoming much more serious. “Wait a second. He wasn’t coming here to… do anything, right? Were you trying to settle any scores?” He seemed to grow more worried, “You didn't piss him off, right-?”
“What?” Koito asked incredulously, eyebrows furrowed. Who, Tsukishima? The introverted, stoic, maybe-a-little-mysterious, workaholic? Do something that warranted ominous suspicion? No way. “No- no, Tsukishima would never. He’s one of the most mild-mannered people I know!” Even if he could be a little bitter and mean sometimes, but that was more or less his way of showing affection, probably. “He’s a friend of mine- what the hell has you all knotted up over it?!”
“Well I mean- I was just asking to make sure… like I said, I didn’t know him personally at the time. His reputation was everywhere, though.” Sugimoto said, taking a step back as if Koito would start swinging. Koito had half a mind to do that. “He used to be pretty aggressive, from what I remember- wasn’t outright rude to people randomly, but if he was pissed off- and I mean, he was pissed off a lot- someone was gonna get hurt.”
“... Huh.” Koito uttered intelligently, not at all processing what any of that meant.
“It wasn’t random people or people who didn’t deserve it, but…” Sugimoto chuckled a bit, “Well, he got called the Iron Fist at our school because he had a problem with delinquents who got innocent people involved in their stuff. He kept the entire school locked in an iron fist, beating up any bad guy who tried to stir up trouble. Which was… a lot of the time. It was a wonder he ever got time to study- I could barely juggle cram school and the homebound-club, and he was out there being an entire delinquent vigilante and outranking all of us!”
Koito was still having trouble registering any of this as actual, legitimate expository backstory. Because literally every word out of Sugimoto’s mouth sounded stupid as hell. This was like, proper over the top drama fodder- and Koito was having trouble, imagining stuffy Tsukishima with bandages over his chest and a disheveled school uniform, looking as if he were fit to murder a man. Or maybe, no- he was actually having an easier time imagining it, if only because Koito had pined after enough bad boys in bad dramas when he was a teenager to know how the look suited people. It kind of suited Tsukishima, in a weird way? And not because Koito was pining after him. Which he. He wasn’t, so why the fuck did he say that. Think that. Whatever, no one was going to hear those thoughts, so back to Sugimoto’s bullshit.
Bringing his hands together, Koito took a deep breath. Then he pointed his clasped hands at Sugimoto. “I’m going to level with you here. Literally, every single syllable that’s just dropped out of your mouth sounds fake as hell. What the hell kind of anime did you walk out of, exactly?”
“Hey, I’m just passing along what I remember!” Sugimoto shrugged. “Most of it was probably inflated anyway when I heard it back then- you know how high school rumors are. Whatever the case, I know that apparently, Tsukishima was damn good in a fight.”
“... Hm.” Koito considered this for a moment, rolling it over in his head. Even if most of what Sugimoto told him sounded like inflated nonsense, there may have been… a smidgen of truth to it. And if there were truth to it, Tsukishima’s hesitation about coming inside of this gym suddenly made a lot more sense. He had been violent in some way back then, taken part in at least one exceedingly violent fight that ‘got someone hurt’- here was a way to get violent again. Albeit in a different, far more controlled environment where no one got seriously hurt, but a place of violence nonetheless.
“Hm?” Sugimoto raised an eyebrow.
“Hm,” Koito confirmed.
“Hmmm…” Sugimoto nodded.
“Hm.” Koito mused.
“Hmmmmm.”
“Hmm….”
“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm-”
“Don’t fucking hm at me!” Koito snapped. This was just getting ridiculous. He was trying to think about a serious issue here!
“Hey, you started it!” Sugimoto said defensively, puffing himself up like an offended animal. Koito knew that look in his eye- slowly frustrated, starting to get exasperated. This was how most of their matches started.
“Last I checked I never asked you to finish it.” Koito snorted derisively, crossing his arms over his chest. “So piss off!”
Sugimoto huffed a breath out through his nose. “God, you’re so insufferable sometimes…”
“Not as insufferable as you!” Koito said, offended.
“Look, I’m not getting into you with this,” Sugimoto said. “It’s getting late.”
“What’s wrong? Afraid that you’re going to get all your chips revoked the next time you have to take a management class for your shitty temper?” Koito sneered.
“Yes, actually,” Sugimoto said, unimpressed.
“...” Koito stood awkwardly for a moment. He… didn’t know that Sugimoto was actually taking anger management. “... Since when? Not that you don’t need it with your, everything- wait. There’s… nothing wrong with needing anger management, but-”
Sugimoto actually giggled, the bastard, and patted Koito’s shoulder as Koito tried in vain to explain that he’d meant to say something much more scathing and insincere, because he really wasn’t that much of an asshole to where he’d ever make fun of someone for actually going to therapy, except maybe he did just inadvertently do that? Listen, he was just angry at himself because he could come up with much more inventive insults without relying on edgy shit that made him about as appealing as a Call of Duty player on xbox live that
“Koito.” Sugimoto said, “I have no idea what you’re saying.”
Oh right. Satsuma. Everyone was an idiot except for Koito and this language barrier was probably going to be the death of him sometime in the future, while he was alone in some alleyway somewhere because of. Office gang wars or something. Koito didn’t know where he was going with that metaphor, so he dropped it.
“Ugh,” Koito complained, nose wrinkling, “Let’s just go beat the shit out of each other.”
Sugimoto shrugged and cracked his knuckles. “Hey, if you’re game, I might be able to make time…”
When Koito came into work the next day, there were DO NOT ENTER signs plastered everywhere.
As it turned out, the building had a gas leak, and no one thought to tell Koito before he possibly went and gave himself carbon monoxide poisoning. As if it’d been hard to reach him, with how long he spent laying in bed on his phone before he mustered up the energy to move in the morning. Thanks, assholes.
Still, it gave Koito a rare few days off, and he was more than willing to take advantage of them. It’d been forever since he had a proper moment to go out on the town, and he was starting to fall behind in terms of the newest fashion… absolutely unacceptable.
Rushing back towards the apartment complex to get this stuffy suit off, he just so happened to pass by Gansoku’s gym. It was a tad busier than it was when Koito liked to go in, but not by much- probably because it was a Wednesday morning and most people weren’t lucky enough to have workplaces with enough structural damage to close so that no one was sued. That, or maybe the gym just wasn’t as popular as Gansoku made it out to be. Hell if Koito knew for sure.
But as he was walking by, he noticed someone through the glass. A very familiar, stocky shape, still clad in a thin sports jacket. Turning his head, Koito slowed down to have a look. Oh. Oh, was that Tsukishima?
It was! Tsukishima was actually inside the gym, exchanging words with Gansoku. Or really, it didn’t look like much of an exchange- Gansoku laughed raucously and slapped Tsukishima on the shoulder good-naturedly, but with enough force to make Tsukishima lurch forward a step. He could make out the shape of Tsukishima’s mouth moving and Gansoku, apparently tickled, laughed all the more. Moving towards the corner of the building, Koito hid so that he didn’t look too weird, just staring inside the gym like this.
Had Tsukishima already been going to this gym? Then what the hell was the meaning of going by late at night, wistfully looking at everything like a goddamn weirdo? Koito had thought that, based on what Sugimoto had said, maybe he’d had unresolved issues about doing something that involved a lot of punching, but it didn’t look as if he minded so much now, moving towards the punching bags…
Damn, and Koito had thought he had this all figured out. He’d even been starting to plan out an entire course of action, too, about how to kinda subtly steer Tsukishima towards this place…
Then he spotted Tsukishima slipping his jacket off and god damn, he definitely didn’t need Koito’s guidance in getting in here because. Holy fuck. Tsukishima was absolutely cut. He had muscles that put professional boxers to shame (and Koito had pined after enough of those when he was a teenager too, to know that), and the pecs to match, under that tight tank.
As Koito watched Tsukishima approach the punching bags and start going to town, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d been cheated. The suits that Tsukishima normally wore to work, and his clothes outside of it, never betrayed the fact that Tsukishima could pack a punch big enough to make one of the 45-kilogram bags sway under the assault. No wonder Sugimoto had seemed worried, the night before- Tsukishima seemed as if he’d be a holy terror in a fight.
Koito shook his head and stepped away, tearing his eyes off of Tsukishima. Okay, that was enough- this was starting to border on the ‘creepy’ side of things, and even though he wanted to see more of Tsukishima (and hang out around him more often, and actually sit down with him in a setting that wasn’t during their meager lunch breaks when he looked liable to murder someone), this wasn’t the right way to go about it. He’d catch Tsukishima at the apartment later and talk to him-
As he was walking away, a hand was laid on his shoulder. Koito tensed, a shriek bubbling from his throat before he could stop it as his head whipped around. Before he could retaliate with a hit, he recognized who was behind him. “Gansoku! What the hell?!” Wasn’t he just inside the gym a second ago?
Gansoku snorted, a benign smile on his face and a shine to his glasses. Despite having the physique and fighting instinct befitting most barbarians, he was still the face of being a gentleman, which had given Koito some whiplash the first time they’d fought. “I was just wondering why you were out here, is all- but it seems a little obvious now.” He glanced back inside, towards Tsukishima.
Koito felt the tips of his ears turn red. “It’s not like that!! I don’t usually- do this, and even if I did, I wouldn’t-! And even besides,”
Gansoku put a hand on Koito’s shoulder, patting a bit, “Don’t you worry now, my friend! I won’t tell a soul. Haven’t told a soul about Tsukishima’s, either…” He winked, and before Koito could ask what in the hell he even meant, he continued. “Still- could I get a favor from you? Since you’re out here and all, and since I’m keeping this quiet…”
“O-Oh,” Koito felt sweat bead at the back of his neck suddenly. Even with the congenial tone, Gansoku made it sound… kind of. Sinister. Koito didn’t want to get involved with anything weird. “Depends on what it is,”
“Oh, it’s nothing too bad,” Gansoku chuckled, eyes shining. “I just want to ask if you’d talk to Tsukishima for me.”
“... What about?” Koito asked, not really following.
“He only comes in here whenever I have the rings closed- see?” Gansoku gestured inside, glancing at the patrons. Koito glanced as well and found that Gansoku was right- while it was slightly busy, almost everyone was more preoccupied with the weighted equipment and punching bags. The rings weren’t even in use. “I keep them closed this early because people tend to be a little too loose and off guard when they’ve just woken up- a little too prone to wanting to start fights.”
“Okay?” Koito asked, still not getting what the problem was. “What does this have to do with…”
“See, the thing is, I think he wants to fight,” Gansoku said, looking through the glass. “He has that sort of spirit in him… But for some reason, he seems to be holding himself back, taking self-control to the point of repression. Nothing saddens me more than a man who won’t allow his true self to be expressed!”
Oh. That made sense, right- because Gansoku was kind of weird and offbeat and thought that fighting people was a great way to learn about and befriend them. That ‘true selves’ are shown when beating the snot out of others.
But maybe, in this case… there was some weird modicum of truth to whatever Gansoku was saying? Because looking at it now, it looked like Tsukishima was kind of enjoying himself- even with that serious look on his face, corded neck tightening, sweat glistening on his bice- ehhh, better not. Think about that. Better to think more on the fact that Gansoku more or less wanted Koito to goad Tsukishima into a fight.
“So what do you want me to do about it?” Koito asked, starting to get tired of this. His stiff shirt collar was starting to bite at him- he really wanted to get back and change…
“Loosen him up a bit to the idea,” Gansoku suggested, glancing at Tsukishima. One particularly strong punch sent all 45 kilos backward, smacking against the concrete wall of the gym with a solid thud. “There’s no need to outright goad him into a fight- but maybe, if you speak to him, ask to train with him. Get him used to it. Because I don’t think he’ll do it himself.”
Koito thought this over. It seemed… reasonable, at least. It wasn’t as if Gansoku was asking him anything that he wasn’t already thinking about doing. And besides, he guessed he owed the old coot for showing him the ropes the first week he started really getting into boxing… “Alright. But I’ll have to catch him back at our apartment- I need to change out of this damn suit, and I’m not doing any sort of…”
Koito was about to say he wasn’t liable to do any amount of goddamn training or fighting that day, especially when he hasn’t gotten to do any proper shopping or urban exploring for weeks now, but Gansoku got an intense look on his face that made all the air pass out of Koito’s lungs like air from a deflated squeaky toy.
When Gansoku spoke, his voice was low, his entire muscular body looming. “Now my friend, Koito… you must know I take my business- no. My craft, very seriously, yes? If you finish whatever slanderous thing you’re saying, I’m going to…” Gansoku’s eyes were hidden behind the bright sun glinting off his glasses, and Koito took a step back, tensing- ready to fight if need be-
“You wouldn’t-”
“I’m going to…” Gansouku repeated deliberately, “be very sad.”
“Ah…” Koito said, not entirely sure how else to react to Gansoku’s sudden shift into looking like a kicked puppy, sad, dejected little face and all. “I… won’t say that out loud, then?”
Gansoku patted Koito’s arm with the utmost carefulness. “I appreciate that, Koito. Now then! I have to go inside and open up the rings. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early.”
“Of course…” Koito then realized- bastard wasn’t even giving him much time to get this plan into action! What the actual hell? “Hold on a damn minute-!”
“Ta!” Gansoku laughed and made his way back through the front doors of the gym.
Koito silently stewed outside for a second, staring at Gansoku’s back as he retreated inside. Sly bastard. Getting Koito to agree and then not even sticking around to iron out the plan anymore- making it so that Koito had to take everything onto his shoulders, including the failure if Tsukishima brushed him off-!
Koito felt eyes on him, and when he turned, he saw Tsukishima staring back at him through the glass. For a second, they both stared at each other; Tsukishima, sweat sticking his tank top to his (Jesus Christ was that an eight pack?? Did Tsukishima have an eight pack?? Koito was fucked- no wait no he wasn’t, not like that-!) body, face reddened with exertion and nothing else; Koito, still in his business attire, loitering.
Koito had no idea if Tsukishima just looked or had seen Gansoku or what, but. Dammit. This was going to make that “get Tsukishima comfortable enough inside the gym to fight an actual person” plan harder. So Koito decided to make the wise decision to make a hasty retreat before he made things any more awkward than they already were. And retreat Koito did, sprinting the fuck away without giving the gym a second glance.
God. Fuck. He needed some retail therapy, stat.
Koito woke up disoriented, vaguely nauseous, and like his life just flashed before his eyes.
As it turned out, shopping and popping a ten-milligram melatonin before dropping was the perfect recipe for not knowing what the fuck was going on when he woke up. Who knew.
He slowly sat up, thinking that maybe next time he should make sure he wasn’t already half dead before taking a sleep aid on top of that- or actually, just not getting to the point of half death, that’d be the smartest thing- and glanced at his closed curtains. It was quiet outside, with the air occasionally punctuated by a car passing, or the odd bit of birdsong somewhere. It was a peaceful time. The shadows didn’t linger long, and everything was still drowsy and soft. Yellow light slowly slipped in through the cracks, bright as the sun…
The sun…
…
“SHIT.”
Koito was wide awake as he tore out of bed, rifling through his closet and trying to pull out clothes that looked sporty, but also nice. But also like he wasn’t trying too hard- he was spending too much time thinking this over. Shit, he didn’t have time to be thinking. If it was morning, it was likely that Tsukishima was already up and about, and if Koito wanted to catch him before he got to the gym he had to hurry!
He was going to regret skipping a morning shower later, but for now, he had on the essentials- cute tracksuit, hair done, teeth brushed. Totally casual alibi as to why he was up and also about that weird moment at the gym the day before if Tsukishima asked. He got this, easily.
Which was why he was ringing Tsukishima’s doorbell, just going to town on it. He needed to see if Tsukishima was in his apartment, or if he’d left already. The easiest way to do that was to kind of flush him out- if he was in, he’d start struggling to get to the door. If not, nothing would happen after Koito stopped and he’d just stand in front of the door, looking like a goddamn chump. No problem.
Eventually, though, there was a stirring in the depths of Tsukishima’s apartment. Soon Koito heard, “Coming! Coming- Jesus, quiet,” and he stopped, feeling like he was nearly vibrating from excitement. Geez, what luck! It was rare he caught Tsukishima around, in the mornings.
In the long wait before Tsukishima got to the door, Koito could hear shuffling behind the door. First, low groaning, then indistinct mumbling. Then a sharp bang, and then a series of kind of comical cracks and crashes, along with a loud, “ Jesus- FUCK.” and frantic sliding, as if someone was rapidly kicking plastic along the shitty hardwood floors that ran throughout this place. Finally, Tsukishima’s apartment door slid open.
Tsukishima peeked out, glaring at Koito with an air of menacing. The air of menacing didn’t really compute in Koito’s brain at first, because. He got too preoccupied, seeing Tsukishima in such cute striped pajamas. It was all buttoned up to the collar, too, looking neat even though Tsukishima still looked sleepy and… oh, God, he looked so cute.
“What do you want,” Tsukishima said, voice rough with both sleep and deep, resentful ire.
That was more than enough to snap Koito back to attention, mostly because Tsukishima sounded as if he was legitimately considering the benefits of murder. That menacing aura was really starting to hit now, probably with some kind of cheesy purple kanji popping out of the ether or something. Or. Koito’s brain was still a lot more scrambled than he thought after he’d woken up. He should probably have said something, actually.
“I just came to ask if you wanted to head to the gym together,” Koito said, leaning against the doorframe in a totally casual manner. “I was thinking of getting in early today, and figured that it’d been a while since we managed to hang out! I mean, outside of Tsurumi-san, giving us deadlines…”
For a long moment, Tsukishima just stared at him, dark eyes growing steadily darker with some unnameable emotion. Eventually, he said a gruff, “... Excuse me.”
“Gansoku’s gym- he mentioned that you came in sometimes,” Koito said, waving a hand confidently. He had this, definitely. “Though I have to say, I’m surprised! I expected you to be up earlier. Don’t tell me you’re starting to get lazy-”
“Koito,” Tsukishima’s jaw clenched, “absolutely. Not.”
“What!” Koito said, deflating a bit. “But… I know you go, and I know you know I go there too- I mean, I saw you there just the other night-”
“You-”
“-and I can see why Sugimoto’s ugly mug might have scared you off, with that dumb smile and those loose lips-”
“Koito, listen-”
“- not that he was too loose!! About knowing you! He only told me some things-”
“He what-”
“-but!! The point still stands- if you had time, we wouldn’t have minded if-”
“KOITO.” Tsukishima snapped, cutting through Koito’s fast-paced tirade.
“WHAT?!” Koito yelled back, volume control slowly breaking down.
Tsukishima grit his teeth. “It is. Three in the morning. And I have no idea who or what you’re talking about.”
“...” Koito stared blankly at Tsukishima, trying to process this. Because he’d been absolutely sure it was day… the light outside the window had told him that, and sure, the rest of the apartment had seemed quiet and dim, but he’d chalked that up to just getting up early for once.
And Koito severely hoped that this was just some kind of funny joke. Just some kind of asshole jape. Because if Koito had been an idiot and, say, mistaken the searchlights from the construction across the street from his window for the fucking sun and gotten dressed in his nice, designer tracksuit, and paid special attention to styling his hair in just the right way so that it would hold its shape even when they got hot and heavy and sweaty, it would mean that he asked Tsukishima to go someplace that. Wasn’t even open yet.
“Hey. Hey.” Tsukishima waved a hand in front of his face, eyebrows furrowing. “Koito-”
Too late. Koito had already melted onto the floor outside of Tsukishima’s apartment, face down against the splintery wood floor. Death was an inevitability that no human would escape, least of all a mere mortal like Koito, who had lost himself to arrogance and paid dearly.
Tsukishima’s face was in his hands. “Oh... my God. Get up, you melodramatic tool.”
But what was it to be human if not to be arrogant against the forces of nature which carry around fragile limbs like puppets on strings, like dandelion fluff on the breeze, like fool’s gold and fool’s love intertwined in a massive hunt that will never end
“Koito,” Tsukishima’s shoulders were shaking, “Why.”
“Hey!! What the hell?” Koito lifted his head up, glaring at Tsukishima balefully. There was nothing audible except tiny, barely noticeable huffs of breath. “Are you laughing at me?!”
Tsukishima’s shoulders stopped shaking nearly instantaneously, a flat affect coming to his voice. “I’m not laughing. I’m weeping. I’m weeping because of the miracle of your continued survival.”
“Tsukishimaaaaaaa!!!” Koito whined, face burning in shame and offense. “Why are you so mean?!”
“What time is it again-?” Tsukishima asked.
“Shh!” Both of them stopped and turned to look at the owner of the third voice. Or really, Tsukishima turned to look- Koito craned his neck in a slightly uncomfortable position to look at their neighbor down the hall. There was Ienaga, hair curlers in her long black hair and a decidedly unladylike scowl to her normally painted lips. “Keep it down, you heathens- some of us are trying to sleep.”
“Sorry, Ienaga-san.” Tsukishima said, suddenly quite serious. The older woman sighed and then retreated back into her apartment, somehow loudly locking the door. After a few moments of silence, Tsukishima sighed as well. “... Well, there go my chances of getting back to sleep.”
“...” Koito slowly sat up on his knees, wincing at a sudden prickling pain in his right cheek. It wasn’t too bad, but… It still kinda hurt. “... I think my face has splinters now…”
Tsukishima heaved out another sigh, somehow more deeply exhausted than before. “... Let’s take this inside.” Koito blinked up at him, uncomprehending for a moment before he hopped back up to his feet, eyes lighting up.
Oh. Okay. Okay, he could work with this- if Tsukishima was inviting him inside, then maybe he wasn’t too mad about being woken up this early-? “If I leave you with those splinters, you’ll probably forget and they’ll get infected. And the Tokugawa Company has their annual review soon- I don’t want to be stuck with your work.”
Koito deflated a bit. Oh... “... Alright…”
Tsukishima sighed as he stepped to the side. “Don’t pout, you giant infant.”
“I’m not pouting…” Koito pouted, walking inside nonetheless.