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The first time Kuroo sees it, he thinks nothing of it.
Nothing except that it’s just an everyday habit, like nail biting or cracking the joints. He knows he has this unnerving habit of worrying his lips when he’s concentrating, and sometimes he catches himself running his fingers down his hair, maybe in a vain attempt to straighten it.
But the supposedly everyday habit stops being occasional and starts being a constant. He catches Tsukki intertwining his fingers in front of his body more frequently, and for something he thought was ordinary, it becomes meaningful all at once.
It’s like a wall. A wall Tsukki builds between him and other people whenever he feels anxious, whenever he feels like he needs to hide in order to keep up appearances. A barrier that protects him, that prevents him from getting hurt.
It’s wrong, Kuroo wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat and refuse to come out. By this point, he knows Tsukki well enough to know that comment wouldn't sit well with him, would only make him strengthen that wall.
Kuroo worries his lips and scratches the back of his neck. He stares at Tsukki like he’s never seen him before, and maybe that’s unmistakably the truth. The moonlight casts shadows across the room, and Tsukki is half-hidden in them, looking out the window as though there’s something meaningful out there that he can’t understand.
He looks terribly vulnerable in that moment, like he’s been laid bare, but just for Kuroo to see. He knows he’s probably one of the few people who get to see this Tsukki. The one in washed-out pajamas and with mussed hair, the one staring inwardly, gazing into the abyss in search of answers.
No matter whatever inner conflict that Tsukki might have, Kuroo loves him.
There’s no denying that. It’s something that happened gradually, but dawned on him unexpectedly one day. Just as summer rain happens. It begins slow and meager, and then out of the blue it’s a downpour.
When he sees Tsukki looking so lost, hands intertwined in front of his body, a barrier between them, keeping the both of them apart, he wishes he could say, I love you, and, I wish you could see yourself as I see you, but he doesn't, because he knows Tsukki. Knows him too well.
He walks up to him, closes the distance between them, and his breath gets caught in his throat when Tsukki gazes at him; moonlight turning amber eyes impossibly bright and golden.
If he intended to say something, he forgets about it entirely. They stare at each other in silence, but Tsukki is looking at him with curious eyes, somewhat inquisitive, and Kuroo is just staring, incapable of moving, of breathing. Helpless.
When Tsukki sighs, a little frown wrinkling his eyebrows, and turns away, Kuroo makes up his mind. He stretches his arm and holds one of Tsukki’s hands, unfastening his fingers from one another, bringing that barrier down like he’s been wanting to.
The contact doesn't feel soft, but it’s warm and comforting. The other’s hand fits perfectly against Kuroo’s own, and he wishes for a moment that he would never have to let go.
But Tsukki looks down at their joined hands and asks, “What are you doing?”
Kuroo follows his gaze and then looks up at him. He shrugs, smiling his lopsided grin, but it’s a small, half-hearted thing, barely a smirk.
“I thought it was obvious?”
“Obvious, it is; expected, not so much.”
“Oh, why, can’t I show you affection?”
Tsukki clicks his tongue and nearly rolls his eyes. It makes Kuroo’s smile grow bigger, more genuine, because deep down, Tsukki is so shy that he’ll dodge every compliment and then change the subject to something else.
Kuroo places one of his hands on Tsukki’s waist and the other on his cheek, tilting his head just a little.
“But I love touching you so much,” he murmurs, and they’re so close that his breath warms their skin.
“Stop fucking around,” Tsukki grumbles, but it lacks bite, so Kuroo only smiles at him. A fond curl of his lips that makes Tsukki scowl and ask, “What?”
“Nothing,” he says, and kisses him.
He kisses Tsukki as though it’s a promise he doesn’t have the courage to voice. He kisses him in a way that it feels like a confession. He kisses him and hopes all the words he’s never said are conveyed through the soft point of contact between their lips.
Kuroo sucks the other’s bottom lip into his mouth and angles his head better to deepen the kiss. It’s everything he wants, everything he has ever wanted, and the moment Tsukki melts into his embrace, Kuroo knows. He knows that’s where he wants to be.
“Come,” he murmurs against Tsukki’s thin lips, “Let’s go to bed,” Kuroo says, taking hold of the other’s hands. He walks backward towards their bedroom and pulls Tsukki with him.
And with their hands joined together, without questioning, without a moment of hesitation, Tsukki follows.
"When the gusts came around to blow me down I held on as tightly as you held onto me."