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Every morning, when Tsukishima opened his eyes, he would expect to find Yamaguchi sleeping peacefully before him. And if he was drowsy enough, sometimes he could see him. Lashes gently touching his cheeks. Hair looking almost golden beneath the sunlight. Face pressed against the pillow.
That morning, Tsukishima instinctively raised his hand, meaning to run it through Yamaguchi’s soft hair.
His eyes shot open then, all the sleep clouding his mind dissipating in seconds. The brightness coming in from the window hit his eyes, making Tsukishima’s whole face scrunch up.
“Right,” He mumbled, pulling the covers above his head. “He’s gone.”
Tsukishima’s mornings were bleak. No matter the temperature or the amount of light coming in through the windows, he always felt cold. And despite all the pillows and sheets surrounding him, the bed always felt empty.
It was hard. Forcing himself to get rid of all the small habits he’d developed.
Like that morning, when he made way too much coffee for one person to drink on their own. He stared at the coffee machine, filled to the top with brown liquid.
Before he left, Yamaguchi would get out of bed only after Tsukishima had made coffee.
Tsukishima would leave the bedroom door open and let the scent get to him. Then he’d witness with amusement how a sleepy Yamaguchi scrambled to the kitchen with his eyes half closed.
Now he left the door open unconsciously, but no one came out.
He poured himself a cup and left the rest of the coffee on the counter. Maybe he’d drink it later.
Yamaguchi used to pour ridiculous amounts of sugar in his coffee. He would always complain about Tsukishima only ever drinking black coffee. “How can you stand the bitterness!” He’d exclaim, making a face when Tsukishima offered him a sip. “Don’t even bring that near me.”
Ever since he left, Tsukishima would dump mountains of sugar into the cup, hoping to add some type of sweetness to his life.
It all felt bitter nonetheless.
[...]
Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had been friends their whole life. Maybe that was why he’d agreed to let him stay that night. The night Yamaguchi pounded on his door at midnight, soaking wet from head to toe.
“What the hell?” Tsukishima grabbed his arm and pulled him inside before he could even say anything. “What are you doing out at this hour? And why aren’t you carrying an umbrella?”
Yamaguchi was trembling slightly, probably because he was freezing. Under Tsukishima’s intense eyes, he could only play with his fingers and avoid his gaze.
“Can I stay here?”
All they could hear was the pounding of the rain against the apartment’s windows. Tsukishima wanted to ask what was going on. He wanted to point out how Yamaguchi’s eyes were watery and how his cheeks were red, it was obvious it wasn’t just because of the breeze.
Instead he went into his room and looked for clothes that would fit him.
“Take a shower first.” He grumbled. “You’ll catch a cold.”
Tsukishima was watching TV when Yamaguchi came out of the bathroom, wearing one of Tsukishima’s shirts and a pair of shorts that were barely visible because the shirt was so long.
He looked good.
“There’s only bed.”
“Yeah,” Tsukishima looked back at the screen, hiding his cheeks dusted in pink. “I’ll take the couch, you should get some sleep.”
Yamaguchi frowned. “I can’t make you sleep on the couch, you live here.”
“Well, I’m not making you sleep on the couch.” He turned the TV off and looked up at Yamaguchi.
Tsukishima couldn’t help but think he looked fragile. Like he’d break at any moment. His heart clenched, wondering what had happened for him to look that way.
“Come on,” He muttered, standing up. “There’s enough space for the two of us.”
“You want to share the bed?” Yamaguchi sounded scandalized.
“You talk as if we haven’t done it before.”
“We were kids!”
Tsukishima raised a brow, holding the door to his room open while staring at him. “What’s the difference? Hurry up, don’t you have classes tomorrow?”
Yamaguchi lingered there for a moment. Swaying on his feet as he tried to make a decision. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Tsukishima was already taking his shirt off.
The bed was big enough for the two of them. And yet, even with the distance between them, Tsukishima could tell just how tense Yamaguchi was.
“Relax,” He whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “You look like I forced you to be here.”
They went to sleep with a pillow in the middle to divide the bed, but by the time sunlight filtered in through the curtains, the pillow was at the foot of the bed. And Yamaguchi was curled up against Tsukishima’s chest, Tsukishima holding him tightly between his arms.
After that, Yamaguchi would crash at Tsukishima’s apartment almost every night, and they would fall asleep holding each other. They didn’t talk about it. Not that they needed to, after spending so many years of their lives together, they’d learn to understand each other without the need for words.
“You should just move in with me.” Tsukishima said one night while they watched movies on his couch.
Yamaguchi’s head was resting on his shoulder while Tsukishima had one arm wrapped around his waist.
“Seriously?” Yamaguchi pressed himself closer.
“It’s not like you don’t already live here.”
“If you insist.” He whispered.
There was no need to raise their voices. They were so close Yamaguchi could practically feel Tsukishima’s pulse.
The bed remained empty that night. They fell asleep on the couch, Yamaguchi’s head on Tsukishima’s lap.
[...]
Tsukishima was the one to ruin everything. As he often did.
It was raining, and despite having closed all the windows, Tsukishima still felt the cold seeping in through his bones. He brought his laptop over to bed and worked on homework, wrapped up between the covers.
While he typed away, he wondered where Yamaguchi was, and why he hadn’t come home yet. But the thoughts slipped away as they were replaced by his work.
Yamaguchi got home a few hours later. Tsukishima had fallen asleep.
Without even bothering to get out of his clothes, Yamaguchi crawled into bed and huddled himself against Tsukishima. One of his hands snaked up to feel his cheek. It felt cold to the touch, even beneath all the covers Tsukishima threw over himself whenever it rained.
“You’re late.” He groaned, voice raspy from sleep.
“I was busy.”
Tsukishima said something Yamaguchi couldn’t make out, and he wrapped an arm around him to bring him closer.
“I called your mom,” He spoke against Yamaguchi’s head, sending a chill down his spine. “She said you took a break from college more than a month ago.”
Yamaguchi could feel his whole body tense up. “Tsukki...”
“What’s going on?” Tsukishima tightened his embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me anything?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He choked out. Yamaguchi tried hard to swallow the knot forming in his throat and to hold back the tears. “None of it does.”
“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima pushed him back, searching for his eyes in the darkness on the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Yamaguchi...”
But he was already rolling away from him, giving his back to Tsukishima and sleeping as close to the edge of the bed as he could.
When he woke the next morning, the space next to him was empty.
Tsukishima rushed out of bed, shirtless and without his glasses. He was afraid Yamaguchi had left, but as he excited his room he found the doors to the balcony wide open, the chilly wind blowing the curtains inside.
Yamaguchi was sitting on the floor, holding a cup of coffee that looked like it’d gone cold. “You never come out here,” He said as soon as Tsukishima was behind him. “The air feels nice.”
“Yams...”
“I’m going back to Miyagi.”
By the time Tsukishima got home that afternoon, he was gone.
[...]
Tsukishima had picked up smoking two months after Yamaguchi left. If he could see him now, he’d complain about it so much he’d make Tsukishima leave it.
He smoked on the balcony. Yamaguchi did say to use it; that was the only use he could find for it.
The nights seemed darker now, even with all the light coming from the buildings around him. Or maybe they were the same. Who cared anyways.
Tsukishima was still thinking about cigarettes and stars when he felt a pair of arms slip around his waist.
“Hey there.”
He let some smoke out. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I woke up when I noticed you were gone.”
“Sorry.”
Kuroo was his new roommate. Or something like that. He dropped by occasionally, heavens knew where he slept when he wasn’t there. Not that Tsukishima would ever ask.
“Who’s Yamaguchi?” He asked, resting his head on Tsukishima’s shoulder.
“Where’d you hear about him?”
“You say his name in your sleep,” Kuroo chuckled. He had a laughter Tsukishima would often describe as mischievous.
“He’s my old roommate.” Tsukishima brought the cigarette to his mouth and left it hanging.
“Where is he now?”
Yamaguchi had changed his phone number, and Tsukishima was too scared to try and reach out through social media. But he knew he was back home, going to college inside the prefecture. His mom had sent him a picture some time ago.
He looked happy. Smiling like he never really had when they lived together.
“Went back to Miyagi, guess Tokyo wasn’t for him.”
Yamaguchi left his bed, his apartment, and the city. But he never left Tsukishima’s mind.