Chapter Text
“Tsukki, do you hurt sometimes?” Yamaguchi asks after a while as he stares at Tsukishima who is currently busy reading an article on his phone.
“Don’t be dumb,” Tsukishima begins. Yamaguchi waits because Tsukki always has more to say. He likes listening to him. “You know we all do.”
“Physically?” Yamaguchi inquires.
Tsukishima only hums.
Yamaguchi blinks. Then, “Emotionally?”
Tsukishima breathes through his nose and tries to peek at Yamaguchi who’s on his bed beside him. Surely, in his head, Yamaguchi already knows how stupid these obvious questions are. But the freckled boy had never really asked these during which time he cannot complement the bright sun. He thinks Yamaguchi is almost falling asleep by the way he said it, voice small, brows drawing insecurity and in question. He’s not looking at Tsukishima anymore.
He gives an equally small, “yeah,” like he wants to convey that whatever Yamaguchi’s feeling right now, or thinking about, he feels, too.
It isn’t only after a little while that Tsukishima thinks Yamaguchi has indeed fallen asleep but the same little voice prods at the quiet air in Tsukishima’s room.
“Sometimes, I feel so unlucky.” Yamaguchi breathes against the pillow his arms encase.
Tsukishima tries to return, albeit not enough, the times Yamaguchi has lent him an ear, he listens, and gives some sort of sound as if to encourage the boy.
“There are a number of times I’ve felt so, so content, you know that right, Tsukki? And – and then, there’s this automatic sign, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi tightens his grip, loosens a bit a moment after. He stretches his arms and to the air. “Tsukki, like, there are big letters in red, suddenly with lights that could blind me, and then it says: You Should Be Sad, Idiot, in capitals!” He curls in on himself, his face imitating a mad cartoon character (like the dinosaur on Tsukki's shelf).
Tsukishima leans back, calmly, just like he always is.
“And then, Tsukki, it’s as if it was not enough, that thing,” Tsukishima could hear the offense Yamaguchi takes from whatever he’s said. “A lot – and I mean a lot! A lot of things started not being good to me, you know?” His voice wavers at the end.
It doesn’t really take much for Tsukishima to know he’s crying.
And, oh, if Yamaguchi would ask his first question again, Tsukishima could answer it with all the specifics of why, when and how.
Yes, Yamaguchi. For example, I am hurt now.
The shattered look on Yamaguchi’s face starts a burn in Tsukishima’s heart. Tsukishima only thinks that, he does not deserve this. The image of Yamaguchi so so fragile, the thought that Yamaguchi’s piled up all of these nonsensical yet evenly significant things, creates chaos in Tsukishima’s chest.
He thinks again, god did not put stars on your cheeks so you could let them shine with your tears. With all the knowledge Tsukishima has by reading, he concludes that, exactly, the clouds exist in the troposphere where it could only rain on the space below it. Stars do not simply exist within the Earth’s atmosphere. Impossible. A star could only be near the planet if it was to destroy it. Is that why Tsukishima’s being is so shaken, and hovering over between the premises of utter devastation, destruction and rage? Still, Tsukishima looks at Yamaguchi breaking.
He looks at his face.
There’s a lot on the surface of Tsukishima that cannot be mirrored from what he’s like inside. But he knows, when he reaches for Yamaguchi, that there’s something stronger in him. Greater than a gravitational pull? He might question.
It seems to remind Yamaguchi that however cold it might be in Tsukishima’s room, warmth seeps in the smallest of spaces where he and Tsukishima cannot close.
A smile makes its way and then, a throb in his heart.