Archive of Our Own

“Yamaguchi-sensei! Guess what we did today in music class!” 

The students in his second grade class came spilling through the doorway, signaling the end of his lesson planning period.

A fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at their elated expressions.

“What did you do, Ito-san?”

“It was international music day! We got to play instruments from all over the world!”

“Is that so? And what did you play?”

“The steel drum!”

“It makes such a cool sound,” Saito cut in. 

“Hm, and can anyone tell me what country the steel drum originates from?” His eyes swept over his students as they avoided his gaze. 

“No? Well, then, what’s one thing you did learn in music class, besides how cool a steel drum sounds.” His eyes shifted to Saito with the last part, whose hand had shot up enthusiastically only to be lowered reluctantly following the end of Yamaguchi’s sentence.

“Kimura-sensei said that it doesn’t matter where a song is from, that music is all about how it makes you feel.” Nakano answered confidently. She was one of his top students. He rewarded her with a smile.

“Very good Nakano-san.”

“Kimura-sensei also said that the most common theme for music across all counties is love,” Aoki added, as if not to be outdone by Nakano. Those two seemed locked in a constant competition.

“Have you ever been in love, Yamaguchi-sensei?” Saito asked.

“Saito!” Ito hissed. “You can’t ask Sensei that!” She elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ow, why not?” Saito hissed back.

“Alright everyone, I think that’s enough.” Yamaguchi said, turning to face the whiteboard, hand twitching to nervously pull at his hair before he could stop himself. “Everyone open your workbooks to page 97. Ishii-san, please remind us where we left off yesterday.”

The room filled with the quiet scuffling of bags being opened, pages being flipped, and pencils being retrieved from where they were left as the students settled in for the rest of their afternoon lesson. 

Yamaguchi took the short moment of contained chaos to take a deep breath and settle his erratic heartbeat as he faced the blank white board in front of him. 

“Yes,” he thought, belatedly. “I have been.”

If you asked him later he would deny the shake in his hand that was present as he lifted the dry-erase marker to the board.

***

Yamaguchi made it through the rest of the lesson and day by sheer force of will alone, but now that the day was over the stress was starting to wear on him. He sagged with relief as the warm familiar atmosphere of the izakaya enveloped him. He spotted a shock of orange hair in the back corner and without a second thought made his way over to their regular table.

“Hey,” he sighed as he slid into the open seat across from Hinata and Kageyama.

“Rough day, teach?” Kageyama asked as he pushed a pint of beer in his direction.

“Thanks,” Yamaguchi said gratefully before taking a small sip. “And no, not rough, just long.”

He silently stared at the remaining foam in his glass, slowly tracing the rim with his fingertip before he remembered himself. He sucked in a quick breath and looked back up at his friends. Both seemed unperturbed by his silence.

“How are you guys? How are the teams?”

“The girls are looking strong this year. I think we’ll go far.” Kageyama commented matter-of-factly.

While no one was surprised that Kageyama took a coaching position following his retirement from the national team, many were shocked that he signed on to coach the university women’s team as opposed to the men’s. While he had never directly articulated it, Yamaguchi got the feeling that it was Kageyama’s way of showing he felt women’s sports deserved just as much respect as men’s. That women’s teams, even at the collegiate level, were criminally undervalued.

“Yeah, and I’ve got some great kids that just joined the academy!” Hinata added excitedly. 

Hinata ran a volleyball youth academy. Yamaguchi thought it was fitting. Even though Hinata had matured a lot in the years since high school, there was part of him that would always be a kid at heart. 

Hinata continued to regale Kageyama and Yamaguchi with the latest stories from the academy, along with what he saw at a recent training camp for some local high schools that he had been a guest coach at. 

Hinata talked enough for the three of them. It was peaceful. Usually Yamaguchi was more animated, typically mirroring Hinata’s infectious energy, but tonight he found he couldn't muster the energy.

There was a lull in the conversation.

Kageyama fixed Yamaguchi with a kind, but knowing look. “Full moon tonight, isn’t it?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Uh, yeah...it is,” Yamaguchi answered after a moment, shifting his eyes away from Kageyama’s gaze.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kageyama nod, before turning to tug Hinata up from his seat. 

“Come on, time to go.”

“Already?” Hinata whined. 

It really was like being back in high school. Except in high school Kageyama likely would have rolled his eyes and called Hinata a dumbass. Now, instead, he just shrugged.

“Yep,” he said plainly as he reached for his wallet and placed a few bills on the table. “This week’s on us, teach.”

That made a small smile pull at the corner of Yamaguchi’s lips as he slid out from his chair and gathered up his bag.

“You sound like Coach Ukai, calling me ‘teach’.” 

They walked together in silence for a few blocks, pausing to chat where their paths split ways. Hinata and Kageyama’s house was tucked up on the top of a steep hill overlooking downtown, while Yamaguchi’s place was closer to the edge of town, bordering the nearby forest.

There was a beat, and then it seemed that what Kageyama had said about the moon finally clicked into place with Hinata as he turned to Yamaguchi.

“Tadashi, you know you can stay with us at our place tonight if you want? We can stay up all night and watch movies! Whatever you want! I’ll make Tobio go get us ice cream.” He was growing more and more animated but suddenly cut off his line of speech when Kageyama grasped his shoulder.

“Shouyou,” Kageyama said gently. “Give him some space.” 

And with that Kageyama fixed Yamaguchi with a look that said “You know we’re here if you need us, just say the word.”

In high school, and even into college, a lot of people mistook Kageyama for cold and unfeeling. But from years of friendship Yamaguchi had come to understand that he was unnaturally perceptive and cared deeply about those that he deemed his friends. He just wasn’t very good at communicating those feelings with words.

Kageyama broke his gaze briefly to rifle through his bag. When he met Yamaguchi’s gaze again he was pressing something into his hands.

“Make sure you eat something,” he said quietly.

Yamaguchi looked down at the wrapped bento box in his hands. He would have laughed at Kageyama’s mother-henning if he wasn’t overcome with a feeling of gratitude that brought a lump to his throat.

“Thanks Tobio,” he managed to say softly. “I will.”

Kageyama took one more look at him, when he seemed satisfied he nodded again and turned to start walking up the hill.

“Come on Shouyou, I’m beat.”

“Alright,” Hinata said reluctantly. 

Hinata cast one more look at Yamaguchi.

“I’ll be up late, call me if you want!” He said finally, before wrapping Yamaguchi in a quick hug then sprinting to catch up with Kageyama who was already partially up the hill.

Yamaguchi looked down at the bento in his hands again, toying gently with the blue gingham cloth wrapped neatly around the box before sighing and turning to walk the rest of the way to his house.

The sun was just about to slink below the horizon, bathing everything in a dim reddish-purple glow. It would likely be dark by the time he finished walking home, Yamaguchi mused to himself.

He hefted his bag more securely on to his shoulder and took a moment to take in his surroundings. He’d walked this way hundreds, probably thousands of times, but there was something about the way the light flitted off the road, and houses, and trees that made tonight feel different.

After a few moments, Yamaguchi noticed that it was perfectly silent. Not even a bird song broke the contemplative calm that seemed to settle into every inch of space, filling even the smallest cracks in the sidewalk. It pressed heavy against Yamaguchi, making him feel claustrophobic, and twitchy. 

He typically didn’t mind the silence; usually, he found it peaceful. But tonight was different, mostly because it seemed to emphasize how he was alone. Completely and utterly alone. It was broken only by the steady sound of his even footfalls against the ground, carrying him to a house he knew would be empty.

He allowed the feeling to consume him as he watched the last sliver of the sun slip below the horizon, dusk beginning in earnest.

***

Tsukishima looked around at the people hurrying past him, a number of them coming dangerously close to walking straight into him.

"Ugh, when did people get so rude," he thought to himself, annoyed.

He looked around again, trying to place where he was.

"Wait," he thought. "What am I doing again? "

He stood rooted in place as the world seemed to move around him, brow furrowed. 

Where...where was he? 

He looked down at his clothes. A soft maroon sweater over a plain white button-up shirt with gray wool pants. 

Was he...going to work?

Tsukishima shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear away the cobwebs that seemed stuck there.

No, no, he didn't work, that wasn't right. What did he do again? He strained his mind for more, but it seemed that his thoughts dissolved into mist.

Why couldn't he remember anything else?

He looked around deftly, trying to figure out his next move.

He saw a young college age girl walking towards him, eyes on her phone.

"Uh, excuse me," he said. "Could you tell me…"

Tsukishima didn't have a chance to finish, as the girl didn't so much as look at him when he spoke, let alone stop. She just continued on her way like he wasn't even there. 

Tsukishima's eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

"Rude," he muttered.

Tsukishima looked up and down the street again. If he could just place where he was…

He maneuvered his way through the crowd. Many of the figures were laden with shopping bags and people wore warm winter coats, beating their hands together and stomping their feet to keep away the bite of the cold.

Strange. Tsukishima looked down at what he was wearing, then back at the people around him. They were bundled up like there was a chill in the air.

“But I don’t...” he looked down and flexed his hand. “I don’t feel anything?” 

Tsukishima brushed the thought from his mind and refocused on the task at hand, figuring out where he was. He walked to a street corner in search of a road name, but when he came across the sign he couldn’t read the markings. It was as if the characters had melted away, or were obstructed by a heavy mist or rain. He couldn’t make them out.

Tsukishima made his way to the next block, the sign was the same, as was the next block and the next block. 

“Seriously?” he bit out after the fourth sign proved useless, frustration flaring in his chest.

“Uh, do you need help?”

Tsukishima was pulled from the rising feeling of boiling rage by a small voice. He turned towards its source, a young middle-school aged boy.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Tsukishima answered. “I need directions.”

Is that what he needed? He hadn’t thought so until this moment, but it was as if the question prompted his answer. He did need directions. There was somewhere he needed to go…

“Sure man,” the kid answered. “Where to?” He pulled out his phone, likely opening the maps app.

“Home,” Tsukishima answered instantly.

The kid stared at him like he was expecting more, when Tsukishima didn’t say anything further the kid slowly nodded, a look of discomfort creeping onto his face as he shifted from one foot to the other.

“Uh, right, so what’s your address then?”

“My...address? ” Tsukishima thought to himself. He paused, struggling to come up with an answer. The way the question was phrased, something about it wasn’t right, but Tsukishima’s mind struggled with why. Where he was going...it wasn’t a place.

“I…” he turned back to face the kid but gasped when he realized he was gone.

“What the hell? ” Tsukishima thought with a twinge of annoyance. Didn’t the kid offer to help?

But as he slowly looked around he realized it was dark. The streetlamps were on and the sidewalk was mostly deserted. The stars shone passively overhead, their light uninhibited by the new moon.

Wait...hadn’t it just been daytime? Tsukishima closed his eyes, he had definitely started talking to that kid when it was still light, and now it was...nighttime?

Tsukishima furrowed his brow. Something was wrong, he knew, but he couldn’t place what it was. And even more strangely for some reason, it didn’t bother him as much as it likely should. These inconsistencies, it was like, as soon as they happened he was already forgetting about them. There was an urge deep within him to just, surrender. To let the tide simply pull him out to the waiting embrace of an endless ocean.

He shifted his weight and looked again at the blur of signs and chaos that moved around him.

“No ,” he thought. “There’s something I have to do.” The idea caught in his brain like a rock that refused to be pulled out to sea, stuck stubbornly on the beach. 

“But, what? ” 

He pulled at his fingers nervously as he looked around, casting about for an answer his mind was unable to supply, and began his aimless walk again.

Tsukishima let his feet guide him absently. Colors and shapes changed around him. Night, day, the shift in seasons, he was aware of the progression but instead of experiencing it, it was as if he was seeing them from underwater. The sounds and sensations muted and far away, his body had a strange constrained weightlessness, making it impossible for him to interact.

In the back of his mind, he knew there was something he was supposed to be doing, somewhere he was supposed to be going…

It was getting harder and harder to focus. He felt so tired. The incessant tug of the tide was getting stronger, impatient. There were moments when he thought, “I should just...let go…” 

Everytime he conjured the thought there was something else, something stronger, that shouted back at him, “No! ”

He was pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of someone’s eyes on him. A strange shiver passed over him with the foreign feeling of being perceived, it’d been so long he had forgotten what it felt like.

He looked up to see an elderly woman staring at him, a sad expression on her face. Her gaze seemed to cut through his growing state of isolation. Tsukishima made his way over to her quickly.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can you help me?” Tsukishima asked.

She surveyed him slowly.

“So young,” she whispered to herself. Then more loudly to Tsukishima, “I likely can’t give you the help you are looking for, but I can tell you what you need to know.”

Tsukishima cocked his head and squinted, trying to process her cryptic answer.

“Uh, okay,” he said slowly. “What I need is directions, I need to get…” he trailed off, unable to remember how the sentence ended.

“Young man,” the old woman called his attention back to her before he was completely consumed in his thoughts.

She took a deep breath before looking him straight in his eyes.

“You’ve passed away,” she said simply. 

An incredulous laugh escaped Tsukishima’s lips. What was this lady’s problem? Was it some idea of a joke? God, this is why he hated talking to people, bunch of weirdos…

But the woman wasn’t finished speaking yet, her clear firm voice cut through Tsukishima’s inner monologue.

“You need to cross-over, you aren’t of this Earth anymore.”

She reached out her hand, but stopped just shy of touching him.

“I’m sorry,” she said sadly. “But it’s time for you to move on.”

Move on. Give in to the pull of the tide. He felt the tug in his chest again, this time it was stronger.

“But I can’t,” he thought. “Not yet...no...I still need to…”

And in an instant it crashed over him like a tidal wave. Tadashi. Tsukishima sucked in a sudden breath and looked up again to tell the woman he couldn’t go, not yet, not until he found Tadashi, but she was already gone. 

Tsukishima looked around, but the sidewalk was empty. He was alone. He turned his eyes skyward. The sun was making its final descent below the horizon, making way for the full moon that would rise tonight. 

“Tadashi.”

It was the only thought in Tsukishima’s mind, as his feet started in a new direction, each step more confident than the last. It was as if an invisible thread had been tied around him, gently pulling him forward, guiding him where he needed to go.

***

Yamaguchi pushed open the door to his house. He went to drop his keys in the dish that sat on the table near the door, eyes catching on the design at the bottom, a triceratops. 

“Tsukki, look! It’s a trincorn!” Yamaguchi exclaimed as he held up the dish he had found at the shop they were browsing.

Tsukishima’s lips twitched slightly, but otherwise his face remained neutral.

“A trincorn?” he asked. Voice flat.

“Yeah! Isn’t that one of your favorites?” Yamaguchi asked, eyes full of excitement. 

When Tsukishima made no move to answer, Yamaguchi started to second guess himself.

“Wait...shit, I mean triceratops!” he said quickly.

But a small smile had already broken across Tsukishima’s face, amber eyes gleaming mischievously behind his glasses.

“Tsukki, don’t make fun of me! I just...I just got confused for a second. I know it’s called a triceratops!”

Tsukishima seemed not to be paying attention to Yamaguchi’s mini crisis, instead he was looking off thoughtfully to the middle distance, the smile on his lips growing.

“I suppose, lexicologically speaking, trincorn isn’t wrong,” he said after a moment.

“Stop making fun of me, Tsukki! And lexicologically is definitely a made up word you’re using to sound smart.”

“All words are made up,” Tsukishima fired back quickly. And then after a moment, “Except trinicorn, which is most definitely not a made up word.” 

As he said it, he ran his fingers through Yamaguchi’s hair, making it stand up in three distinct spikes.

“In fact, I think it is my favorite word.”

Yamaguchi felt his cheeks instantly heat.

“Shut up, Tsukki,” he said sheepishly, but a warm feeling of endearment swelled in his chest, and in his heart he knew that the last thing he wanted was for Tsukishima to stop talking, even for a moment.

“Come on,” Tsukishima said, plucking the dish from Yamaguchi’s hands and walking towards the register. “Let's pay for this, then go get some takoyaki, that vendor you like is just around the corner.”

Yamaguchi ducked his head and followed Tsukishima to the front of the store. He remembered in the moment being struck with such a feeling of contentment, everything seemed right with the world.

***

Tsukishima gazed at the shuttered takoyaki stand, locked up tight due to the late hour. He used to come here often, he remembered. There was a feeling of routine and mundanity associated with the place, Sunday afternoons spent browsing shops and stands. He pressed his memory for more, but the details were indiscernible, slipping out of his grasp, and swirling together into a distant pool of nothingness. 

He allowed his feet to continue on to the next place, pulled along by the invisible thread. The pathway was unclear, and yet he knew what was waiting for him at the other end was what he had been searching for.

***

In the darkness of his entryway, Yamaguchi’s gaze refocused on the dish, the memory dissolving in favor of the reality in front of him. The painted cartoon triceratops was scratched and worn from years of keys scraping across its surface, but the image remained discernable, even with his keys covering most of the illustration.

He sighed again and toed off his shoes, neatly stowing them in the rack to his left, which now held too many empty spaces. 

“I should get a smaller one,” he thought absently to himself. But the second the thought was conjured into his brain, he knew that he would never actually follow through with it. He pushed the notion from his mind and retreated further into the dark house.

He softly padded to the kitchen in his socked feet, opening the refrigerator to place the bento inside. He didn’t bother to turn on the overhead light, letting the light from the refrigerator flood the darkened kitchen. The contents of the fridge were starkly scant. He was several days overdue for a grocery run. It was almost as if Kageyama had a sixth sense for his deficient shopping habits.

He let the door to the fridge swing slowly shut, staring at it for a few moments, before sighing and prying it open again for a lack of anything better to do. He retrieved the bento from the shelf, bringing it over to the kitchen counter, and started going about unwrapping the contents. 

He pried open the top, breath catching when he looked over the contents. 

“Damn ,” he thought silently.

He vaguely remembered Hinata mentioning that Kageyama had been experimenting in the kitchen more, but this was the furthest thing from what he had expected.

Savory chunks of bbq’ed eel were nestled amongst a medley of shimeji, maitake, and enoki mushrooms. It was separated by a bed of rice sprinkled with preserved plums. The next compartment held two perfectly formed sweet-and-sour pork meatballs nestled in a lettuce leaf. In the other corner there was a silicone cup filled with kelp salad with baby sardines. Separating the two was a single slice of rolled omelette. Finally, in the last compartment were bright orange tea-infused apricots, a stick of cinnamon resting on top.

Yamaguchi felt the lump in his throat return as tears pricked at his eyes. He slammed his fists against the kitchen counter. No. He couldn't start crying. Not yet. If he started now, he’d never make it through the night.

He took a few steadying breaths. When he finally felt the sting in his eyes recede, he took a moment to marvel at his friends. He was so lucky to have them in his life. He quickly transferred the bento to the microwave and waited patiently for it to heat up, making a mental note to profusely thank Kageyama the next time he saw him, and maybe beg him for some cooking lessons.

Once the microwave beeped and he retrieved his food his eyes fell to the empty table in the kitchen. Sitting in the dark eating alone was, objectively, depressing. Even if it was what Yamaguchi felt like doing.

After a moment’s contemplation, he sighed and padded out to the living room, setting the bento down on the coffee table in front of the tv. He picked up the remote. He didn’t really feel like watching anything, but the ambient noise was comforting in its own way. He flipped the channels a few times, settling on a cooking show, or maybe it was an infomercial. Yamaguchi wasn’t paying close enough attention to tell.

He settled into the couch, pulling both knees against his body. He leaned forward and grabbed the bento, balancing it on top of his knees as he started delicately picking at it with his chopsticks. He wasn’t really that hungry, but he was largely driven by curiosity to see if Kageyama's cooking was as good as it looked.

After a few experimental bites he concluded, no, it was better. He tried to focus on the cheerful man on the screen demonstrating how easy juicing a whole tomato could be, but found he was unable to concentrate. His gaze was unwittingly pulled to his right, staring at the empty space next to him.

“Hey,” Tsukishima said, breaking the silence that had settled over them as they watched a b-horror film. Tsukishima paused the movie and shifted so he was looking at Yamagachi. Yamaguchi met his gaze questioningly; he’d been dozing off against Tsukishima’s chest until a few moments ago.

It was their weekend tradition since middle school. Every Friday after school they’d walk to the used record store downtown, which also had a selection of horrible 80s VHS’s for rent. Tsukishima loved to watch them and deconstruct the special effect techniques while offering commentary on how illogical the plots typically were. While not the biggest scary movie fan, Yamaguchi always found Tsukishima’s breakdowns hilarious, even when the blonde wasn’t trying to be funny.

Tsukishima glanced down, and readjusted his glasses, seemingly stealing himself for something. When he met Yamaguchi’s gaze again his eyes betrayed the slightest hint of nervousness that anyone else but Yamaguchi would have missed.

“I love you.”

Tsukishima said the words with a mix of conviction and casualness that only he could pull off.

Yamaguchi’s didn’t even have time to process before his mouth was moving in response.

“I know,” he said, almost automatically. 

The confidence with which he spoke surprised even himself. But in his split-second of reflection he realized it was the truest thing he’d ever said. He did know, he’d always known. Just as he’d always known the next thing he said.

“I love you too, Tsukki.”

And again, shocked by his own boldness, he twisted up to press a kiss against Tsukishima’s lips. However, in the moment it felt anything but bold, it just felt right . 

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. They’d always been a pair, since that day so many years ago on the playground. Of course Tsukki loved him, and of course he loved Tsukki back. This conclusion seemed as natural as breathing. 

And even though it was the first time they’d spoken the words aloud to each other, it was far from the first time they’d communicated the sentiment to one another. Which is probably why, after taking a moment to process, Tsukishima simply nodded and returned Yamaguchi’s kiss by pressing a long lingering kiss against his temple, gently stroking his hair, and then unpausing the movie.

Yamaguchi cuddled deeper into Tsukishima’s embrace, hands skating over his chest, then moving to gingerly play with the hem of his worn t-shirt, before pushing it up to gently trace the tight skin beneath.

They didn’t end up finishing the movie.

***

Tsukishima stared blankly at the store’s darkened windows. A faded poster proclaimed “BUY, SELL & TRADE RECORDS HERE!” Similar to being at the takoyaki stand, there was an air of familiarity that clung to the store. He’d been here...often. It seemed that his mind was unable to conjure any concrete memories. Instead, the feelings bled through his consciousness like watercolors bleeding across an empty canvas. 

There was a distant sense of security, the warm embrace of friendship and routine, but it was tinged with something else, the anxious air of nervousness, before being swept away with something even greater. The euphoria of a love confirmed.

Tsukishima absently raised his hand to his chest, where he felt a dull ache, before his feet were moving again, the invisible thread pulling him ahead yet again.

***

Back at home, the memory crashed over Yamaguchi with such force he had to set the bento back on the table and shut his eyes. He gently rocked back and forth on the couch, legs still clutched to his chest as he tried again to focus on steadying his breathing. He pried his eyes open and focused on counting the number of buttons on the remote in front of him until he felt himself start to calm down.

He wasn’t sure how long he remained frozen in place on the couch, unable to move, counting every item in the living room that came into his view. However, the man on the tv was no longer talking about juicing and instead was demonstrating how much easier life could be with a slap chop. 

The vibrating of his cellphone against his leg finally served to pull him from his spiral. He shifted to fish the phone out of his pant’s pocket. The screen illuminated with a photo of his mother. He sighed and hit ‘accept.’

“Hey mom,” he said wearily.

“Hi honey!” The tinny distortion of her voice via cell filled his ears, bright with mock cheerfulness. “How are you doing?”

“I’m...okay,” he said after a moment. It wasn’t a total lie.

“Well, I just wanted to check in on you,” her voice was laced with concern. 

“Really, mom,” he responded weakly. “I’m fine.”

His mother fell silent on the other side of the line. Even through the feeble connection via cell Yamaguchi could feel the thousands of things that went unsaid between the two of them. Instead of making him feel better though, they just made him feel exhausted. But he knew she was trying, and Yamaguchi had made a vow years ago that if she would try, so would he.

“Thanks for calling, mom,” he said softly. “Maybe I could come by the house for dinner next Sunday.”

He heard his mother expel a breath that she seemed to have been holding since he answered the phone.

“That’d be great Tadashi, your father...your father and I miss you.”

The end of the sentence was awkward, but they both seemed to have a silent pact not to acknowledge it. 

“He’s not on travel?” Yamaguchi finally asked.

“He gets in Saturday night from Tokyo.”

“Mm,” Yamaguchi answered softly, absently tugging on his hair. “Then how about dinner Friday night instead.”

There was a bated silence, but Yamaguchi was determined not to break first. Finally his mother let out a low sigh. 

“Friday night would be good, I’ll see you then sweetie. Any requests?”

“Pork belly,” Yamaguchi responded instantly.

He heard his mother chuckle quietly.

“Of course, consider it done. See you Friday, honey. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbled in response before ending the call and chucking the phone on the cushion next to him.

He was powerless to stop the memory from unfolding in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, in an attempt to keep it from taking hold, but it was no use. And unwittingly he was whisked away.

“Mom, Dad, I--we, have something we need to tell you.”

Yamaguchi recalled how his voice shook when he spoke these opening words. Tsukishima’s grasp was like an anchor, keeping him tethered to reality. He felt him gently squeeze his hand, a reminder that he was here with him, he wasn’t alone.

His parents looked up from where they had been seated in the living room, his mother working on a cross-stitch and his father reading the newspaper. Their gazes seemed puzzled, until their eyes settled on his hand, inextricably linked with Tsukishima’s.

“Tsukishima and I...are dating. I love him. Mom, Dad, I’m gay.”

Saying the words were like leaping blindly off a building. Once those words were out in the open, they could never be taken back. It was a bell that couldn’t be unrung. And while he knew he’d never spoken truer words in his life, the potential impact from this unalienable truth terrified him. He knew he’d never have been able to do it without Tsukki holding his hand.

His declaration was met with utter silence. No one in the room moved. It seemed like everyone had collectively stopped breathing as well. 

Yamaguchi was about to say something else, anything else, when he caught the look on Tsukishima’s face. His gaze was fierce and unafraid. Drawn up to his full height he was taller than even Yamaguchi’s father, his very presence was intimidating, let alone the protective energy that seemed to radiate from his very being at that moment. He gripped Yamaguchi’s hand tighter.

After what felt like an eternity, the silence was finally broken by his father.

“I think you should leave,” he said lowly. “Both of you. Please leave.”

Yamaguchi was speechless. He opened and shut his mouth several times, but produced no words. Until he finally seemed to find his voice.

“Mom,” he whispered lightly, his voice strained from keeping the tears at bay. “Please.” He looked at her pleadingly, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, instead her eyes stayed fixed on the cross-stitch that she gripped in her hands so tightly, her knuckles were white.

They stayed like that for a minute more, before Tsukishima finally tugged at his hand, pulling him towards the door.

“Come on,” he said solemnly. 

Later that night Yamaguchi would never forget how fiercely Tsukishima held him as he sobbed uncontrollably into his chest back at their college dorm. He was overcome by the sheer unfairness of it all. 

His parents had known Kei since he was a kid, they had seen them grow up together. Was it really that shocking? Had they really not expected it? He was their only son, how could they so readily just shut him out?

Yamaguchi had suspected this may be the outcome, but had secretly harbored the hope that his parents would surprise him. That they’d see the happiness Tsukki brought him, and the love that they shared. He realized that he was wrong to hope for more, and that is what hurt the most.

Telling Tsukishima’s family hadn’t gone much better. He remembered standing there next to Tsukishima, looking at his parents, these two adults that had known him his entire life. People who had cooked breakfast for him after countless sleepovers, celebrated his accomplishments with him like his own parents, kissed him on the forehead right along with Tsukishima. They were people that he had respected, he had trusted. And now they looked at him with nothing but disdain in their eyes, like he was the one who deceived them.

The only silver lining was Tsukishima’s brother, Akiteru, who was supportive. But it did little to ease the blow.

Yamaguchi recalled that Tsukki had been quiet the entire way back to their dorm. He tried to start a conversation a few times only to be met with silence. It was clear Tsukishima was lost in his own thoughts.

It wasn’t until they were settling into bed later that night, Tsukishima finally spoke.

“It doesn’t matter,” he stated resolutely.

Even though they hadn’t spoken since leaving his parents house hours ago, it was clear what he was talking about.

“It doesn’t?” Yamaguchi asked, caught off guard by Tsukishima’s sudden forceful pronouncement.

“No,” Tsukishima answered simply, pulling Yamaguchi into a tight embrace as they laid together in their too small bed. His long lean limbs tenderly encircling him. “Because we’re each other’s family, and that’s all that matters to me, Tadashi.”

Yamaguchi remembers holding back tears. He wanted to be strong for Tsukki, the way he had been strong for him after they told his parents. But Tsukishima’s statement made his heart ache with both a sadness and an ecstasy he couldn’t seem to reconcile.

“It’s all that matters to me too, Kei,” he said softly, as he curled himself deeper into Tsukishima’s embrace. “You’re my family.”

***

Tsukishima stopped short in front of the university residence hall, looking up at the building passively. He didn’t need to go any further. The white hot pain that seemed to cleave his heart in half was as clear to him now as it has been that day. While the details were foggy at best, Tsukishima recalled an irreconcilable loss. The feeling of losing something that you had always thought would be there, only to have that promise turn to ash in your mouth. 

But the sting of the pain was instantly eased by the flood of a different, stronger emotion. A choice, and a realization that the family he needed was already with him. It was then that he knew where the invisible string was leading, that he knew where he had to go. He knew where to find Tadashi, to find the only family, the only home, that truly mattered to him.

He moved with a silent determination, no longer being pulled along by an invisible thread, but by a determination to find what he had been searching for, and the knowledge that it would be there waiting for him.

***

Yamaguchi chased away images of the past with a splash of cold water to his face. The memory felt like another lifetime, when in reality it had only been about eight years ago. Reliving the emotional rollercoaster left him feeling queasy. He gripped the sides of the sink and stared at the mirror. 

The face that greeted him was reminiscent of the boy in the memory, but contorted with a mask of grief and age that made him unrecognizable even to himself. He sighed and reached for a wash cloth, thoroughly scrubbing his face.

As he placed the cloth back on the hook he couldn't help but let his eyes fall to the far side of the counter. Tsukishima’s razor and toothbrush were still there. Even though Yamaguchi had done a pretty good job of cleaning and packing things up over the last few months with Asahi’s help, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to move Tsukki’s toothbrush and razor. 

His hand ghosted over the metal arm of the razor, a hair’s breadth from touching it. He paused, then curled his fingers back onto themselves. No, it wasn’t right. This is where his things belonged.

Yamaguchi switched off the light and headed to the bedroom, his feet carrying him there even though he wasn’t tired.

When he got to the bedroom he belatedly realized that he was still in his work clothes. He quickly shucked them off, pulling on an old pair of dark jeans and a faded t-shirt. He moved to the closet to grab a sweater. His hand ran over the hangers absently until his hand stopped on a deep purple hoodie.

He pulled it out slowly, reverently. The embroidered crescent moon on the hood made his heart catch as he slowly brought the sweatshirt up to his face and buried his nose in it. He fought the powerful urge to put the sweatshirt on, to allow himself to be completely enveloped in its calming warmth. But he knew the sooner he did that, the sooner it would stop smelling like Tsukki, defeating the entire point. 

If he breathed deep enough he could still make out a faint smell of pine mixed with mint and the tiniest hint of vanilla. It swirled together to form a scent that was so distinctly Tsukki it made Yamaguchi’s heart ache. It reminded him of cold winter mornings when neither of them were eager to leave the warmth of bed. Yamaguchi would tug Tsukishima’s sleep-heavy body over him until he was partially draped on top of him, and burrow his nose into the crook of his neck, vowing to never get out of bed again.

Sometimes he would think Tsukishima was still asleep when he did this, only to feel him gently start playing with his hair as they laid there, both teetering on the edge of sleep and consciousness, content to just be together.

He stood there, alone in his bedroom, sweatshirt balled against his face. In that moment he knew he could stave off the tears no longer. He quickly pulled his face away, not wanting to mar the sweatshirt with tears and snot, clutching to his chest instead.

“FUCK,” he bellowed as tears gathered in his eyes. “Fuck,” he repeated more softly, after the tears started to fall. “I miss you so goddamn much, Tsukki.” 

He could feel the overwhelming weight of grief begin to claw its way up his spine. He quickly opened the closet again and shoved the sweater back inside, biting back his tears. He didn’t have time for this, not yet, he still had things he needed to do.

The contents of his backpack clinked against each other gently as Yamaguchi packed. His gaze skated across the photo as he reached and picked the frame up off the shelf. This was his favorite picture of Tsukki. He had taken it following a day trip to the mountains about a year before---well, about a year and a half ago. 

They had pulled over on a cliffside to watch the sunset while they ate their gas station dinner. It wasn’t their fanciest date, or even their best, in all it was a pretty typical weekend for them. But there was something about the sheer mundanity of it, and the comfort it brought that warmed Yamaguchi’s heart.

He’d snapped the photo of Tsukki just a moment before he registered Yamaguchi was taking a picture. Meaning that instead of the signature scowl that every camera seemed to draw out of him, his expression was more open. His face was turned towards Yamaguchi and the camera, but his eyes were looking somewhere over to the left, likely at the sunset. He looked perfectly at peace, a small smile gracing his lips, mouth slightly open like he was about to say something to Yamaguchi. Happy. Peaceful. Perfect.

Yamaguchi stroked the photo slowly. So much better than the formal photo they had used at the memorial service, he thought darkly. Undeniably the second worst day of his life he thought back bitterly.

“I’m sorry, Tadashi,” Akiteru said quietly. 

Yamaguchi was seated on the steps outside of the memorial hall, Akiteru standing in front of him. He could make out the quiet din of voices floating out of the hall as guests at the wake conversed quietly.

“I’ve tried everything, they aren’t changing their minds. Kei’s ashes are going to be buried at the family grave.”

“It’s…” Bullshit, Yamaguchi’s mind instantly supplied. He took a deep breath in an attempt to form a slightly more civil response, but he was having trouble seeing straight, everything a blinding swirl of grief and anger. 

“It’s not what Tsukki would have wanted, Akiteru.” He said it with conviction, fixing him with a forceful gaze.

“You know it’s not. It’s not right. Tsukki hasn’t--hadn’t--spoken to them in years, Akiteru. He belongs…” He stopped speaking as his voice broke.

He belongs with me, his mind finished, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

Akiteru sighed and ran his hand roughly through his hair before gesturing in front of him helplessly.

“Look Tadashi, I know, but…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath before starting again, voice hushed as if worried they would be overheard. “But yours and Kei’s marriage isn’t recognized by the government, you don’t have a claim to his remains or where his final resting place is...I’m...I’m sorry.”

He’d said the words gently, but they still seared into Yamaguchi like a slap, knocking all the wind from his chest. Of course he’d known that was the case, but it was different having someone verbalize it.

They each stayed rooted in place for several minutes, neither one of them speaking until Yamaguchi finally was able to regain a small semblance of his grip on reality. When he finally spoke his voice was flat, dead.

“Your family’s grave is part of a private shrine. I won’t even be able to visit.” 

He’d meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement. Just as well, Yamaguchi thought, defeated.

Akiteru sighed, “I’ll take you whenever you want to go Tadashi, you have my word.”

Yamaguchi wanted to laugh, even though nothing about the situation was remotely funny. He’d need an escort to pay his respects to his own husband. It felt like a cruel cosmic joke.

“Well, it was always your parent’s goal to keep us apart. Guess I didn’t expect them to get the last laugh like this, but here we are,” his voice was cold and clipped, it sounded foreign to his own ears, like someone else was speaking.

Yamaguchi stood and gently brushed the dirt from his pants. There was more he wanted to say, so much more, but he was too exhausted to try and put his feelings into words. 

“See you around, Akiteru,” he said, voice strained.

He felt Akiteru’s gaze on him as he walked away, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He knew that he shouldn’t lash out at Akiteru, but he couldn’t find the energy within himself to offer any type of absolution.

The memory still stoked a feeling of cold bitter rage in Yamaguchi’s heart. The funeral was months ago, but remembering it all was like picking at a scab. The deep wound beneath was far from healed, and sometimes the pain was too much for Yamaguchi to even conceptualize. 

Before he let himself get lost in his emotions completely, he took a deep breath and refocused on the bag that was neatly packed at his feet.

“That’s why I’m doing this,” he thought to himself. “Because we’re each other’s family, Kei.”

***

Tsukishima tilted his head back, basking in the beauty of the stars and brightness of the moon above. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew that this is where he was meant to be. Here, here is where he would be reunited with Tadashi. 

Gently he dropped to the ground, folding his long legs under him and clasped his hands in his lap, a small smile playing at his lips. While time had ceased to have any meaning to him, he knew it wouldn’t be long.

“I’ll be here waiting, Tadashi, right here.”

***

The path up the mountain was steep. Yamaguchi knew it well, but he still shifted the flashlight from his right to his left hand, keeping his eyes glued to the ground for errant roots. However, if he was being honest he knew the path by heart. As soon as he and Tsukishima had discovered the trail when they were in elementary school, it became their place.

Good news, bad news, something exciting, or just talking about a normal day at school, they’d climbed this path together thousands of times over the years. It was out of the way, the entrance to the trail was set back away from an old service road. In all the years they’d been coming he’d never seen another tourist or hiker. 

He could still recall the cool nip in the air from an early cold snap when they’d hiked up the trail together five years ago. Tsukishima had been acting strange all day, Yamaguchi kept asking him if he was feeling sick, only to be met with vague answers. 

“It’s supposed to be a full moon tonight, do you want to hike up to the clearing to look?” Tsukishima had asked as dusk started to fall.

“Sure Tsukki, sounds fun! Will you point out all the constellations again?”

“I point them out every time we’re up there, don’t you know them by now?” Tsukishima said, voice irritated but face fond.

“Nope! But that’s why I have you!”

“Hm, is that all I’m good for then? Personal star chart?”

Yamaguchi reached out to tug on Tsukishima’s hair lightly before bending down to slip on his shoes.

“I can think of a few other things you’re good for too,” he responded playfully.

Tsukishima just rolled his eyes in response, feigning offense but knocking into Yamaguchi’s shoulder fondly as they stepped through the threshold and made their way down the sidewalk. 

Tsukishima dropped his hand and laced his fingers through Yamaguchi’s as they walked in comfortable silence to the edge of town. 

“You have to let go of my hand now,” Yamaguchi said as he ducked off the road and hopped down the short hill to the edge of the woods, pulling Tsukishima along with him by the hand.

“I don’t want to,” Tsukishima answered.

Yamaguchi stifled a fond sigh. 

“Tsukki, it’s too dangerous to walk hand-in-hand up the path. There are too many loose rocks and roots, what if one of us slips?”

Tsukishima simply grunted and untangled his hand, letting it rest on Yamaguchi’s shoulder instead.

“This way I can still catch you.”

Yamaguchi rolled his eyes. “Tsukki I’m not as clumsy as I…” The rest of his sentence was abruptly cut short as he stumbled on a small rock. 

Tsukishima’s hand tightened on his shoulder, steadying him. He shot Yamaguchi one of his signature “I told you so” looks.

“Shut-up,” Yamaguchi said, mostly to himself.

The rest of the hike was uneventful as they broke through the trees to the small grassy overlook. The entire city stretched below them like a jeweled patchwork quilt. They were far enough up that the stars shone brightly, uninhibited by the city lights below. They seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction overhead, creating such a feeling of vastness that Yamaguchi felt like he could step off into infinity from where he stood if he tried. A gateway to the cosmos. 

Yamaguchi felt Tsukishima retract his hand from his shoulder as he studied the night sky.

“Tsukki, which one is that again?” He pointed up to the sky.

When a response didn’t come, he twisted around.

“Tsukki?” His eyes fell on Tsukishima kneeling on the ground. “Wh-what are you doing?”

Yamaguchi felt his voice falter as he dropped to his knees across from Tsukishima so they were eye level, he reached out to grasp his hand.

Tsukishima was looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. It was so open and fragile. Yamaguchi realized with a start, in all the years he’d known Tsukki, he’d never seen him look this vulnerable.

Yamaguchi gently brought his hand to cup the side of Tsukishima’s face. As soon as his hand made contact, Tsukishima's eyes fluttered shut, and he covered Yamaguchi’s hand with his own.

“Tadashi,” he said softly, opening his eyes to gaze at Yamaguchi. “You are the love of my life,” he paused, seeming to need to collect his thoughts.

“Ever since I was small, whenever I pictured my future, the only constant was that you were there too.” A small intimate smile pulled at his lips. “You understand me like no one else and everyday that I spend with you makes me a better person.”

He shifted slightly, taking both of Yamaguchi’s hands into his.

“Tadashi, will you be my husband?” 

His voice was so fragile, so gentle, it made Yamaguchi’s chest ache. He felt a soft sob escape him and he lunged forward and dragged Tsukishima into a tight embrace. 

“Yes, of course,” he whispered into his ear. He couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of his mouth, he was so happy . “Of course,” he repeated.

“I love you Kei.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, each reluctant to break apart. When they finally did, Tsukishima fiddled with his glasses, pushing them back up his nose.

“We can’t get married legally, and with your position at the school you also likely shouldn’t wear a ring, but...but we would know.”

Yamaguchi smiled, squeezing Tsukishima’s hands in his own.

“We would know,” he repeated. “And that will be enough,” he finished, leaning in to kiss Tsukishima. 

Yamaguchi surveyed the clearing, it looked exactly the same as it had that night five years ago, making something painful twist in his chest.

He sighed and gently took a seat on the ground, setting the flashlight off to his side so he could unpack his backpack. 

Gingerly, he set up the altar. He unfurled a patterned scarf, on top he gently placed an incense holder and a small candle. He gazed at the framed photo for a few minutes before gently placing it at the center. Next, he reached into the bag and took a twig of deep pink crepe myrtle blossoms he had picked on his walk here. 

His eyes swept over the set up, adjusting the placement of everything slightly. Once he was satisfied he pulled a matchbox from his backpack and solemnly struck a match. He lit the candle first, then he used the candle flame to light the incense, blowing it out and letting its smoke gently curl skyward. Carefully, he placed the incense stick into the holder.

Once the set up was complete, he gazed softly at the photo. This was always the hardest part, getting the first few words out.

“H-hey Tsukki,” he started quietly. “I’ve missed you,” he let out a long slow breath. 

“Uh,” he laughed softly. “Actually that’s an understatement, I’ve...I’ve…”

Words seemed to fail Yamaguchi. He ran his hand through his hair, tugging slightly on the ends. A habit he’d had since he was a kid when he was feeling overwhelmed.

There were so many things that he wanted to say, that he wanted to communicate, but he felt like he suddenly lost his ability to speak.

“It’s just not fair,” Yamaguchi finally forced out. “There were still so many things we were going to do Tsukki, that you were going to do. And now...now…”

Yamaguchi sucked in a deep breath, trying to get control of the tears as they started to leak down his face.

He thought back to Tsukishima’s Ph.D. He was so close to finishing, it had been his dream to receive his doctorate since high school. And he had been so close. 

The university ended up awarding it to him, posthumously. Sugawara was a fellow in the literature department at the same university, but knew his way around the entomology department well enough. He’d worked with some of Tsukishima’s research partners to finalize his draft, which was all but completed. They even found recordings of him practicing his oral defense they were able to submit. 

Yamaguchi smiled slightly at the thought. Tsukishima likely would have hated the idea of anyone turning in his work but him, and yet, he knew the gesture had meant a lot to everyone who worked on it. Closure. He just wished he could have shared in some of their relief.

He took a deep breath again and refocused on the photo.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Tsukki,” he finally said. “I...I don’t know how I am supposed to move forward from this. It hurts too much.”

He hung his head, letting his eyes fall shut as his hand gripped his knees tightly. “I’m not strong enough, I’m sorry Tsukki.”

Silent sobs shook his body as he squeezed his knees even tighter. The smell of incense and dew filled his nose. The wind picked up at that moment, bringing with it the faintest scent of pine and mint.

“But Tadashi, you’re the strongest person I know.”

Yamaguchi felt his breath catch in his chest. He instantly stilled. That voice…

Slowly, reluctantly, he raised his head. He delayed opening his eyes for a moment longer, because he knew when he opened them, he’d be alone. The voice that he heard...just a memory.

He let out one final breath before opening his eyes.

There, bathed in pale moon light, seated across from him, was Tsukishima.

Yamaguchi instantly started to cry harder.

“Tsukki…?”

Yamaguchi’s eyes swept over the figure in front of him. It was undeniably Tsukishima. His eyes were bright behind his glasses, and a small private smile played at his lips. He looked whole, and perfect, and breathtakingly alive. It was then that Yamaguchi noticed he was dressed the exact way he had been on the day of the accident.

It’d been an unseasonably warm fall day. Tsukishima had foregone a coat and opted to walk across town to the university as opposed to catching the bus with Yamaguchi. The sudden downpour had come out of nowhere, making the road slick. When the truck lost control and spun out, jumping on to the sidewalk, it had been quick. Instantaneous. That was the word the police had used when they told him later.

Yamaguchi lurched forward, desperate to reach out to Tsukishima, but he stopped himself short, not wanting to banish the apparition. 

“Tsukki,” he repeated again. “How…”

But Tsukishima cut him off before he could finish. “You have a lot of strength left, Tadashi. I know you do.”

“No,” Yamaguchi croaked. He couldn’t bring himself to agree, because if he did, then it would mean that it was real. That Tsukishima was really gone. A truth that Yamaguchi rejected with his entire being.

“No, Tsukki, I’m--I’m not. I can’t do this without you. I need you,” his voice finally betrayed him, breaking as tears streaked down his face. “I need you, because you’re my family.”

Tsukishima just looked at him, wearing the same small smile, like he knew something Yamaguchi didn’t.

“I’m still with you,” he whispered softly. 

He leaned forward to brush Yamaguchi’s hair out of his face. Yamaguchi closed his eyes in anticipation of his touch, but it never came. His eyes flew open again, only to be met with emptiness.

“No,” he said thickly. Then more loudly, “No, no, no! Tsukki! Kei!” he screamed his name into the night. “Come back, please, please come back.”

He fell forward onto his hands and knees sobbing. “Come back,” he screamed. “I need you,” he pleaded with the empty air around him. “Please, please come back, Kei.”

Sobs wracked his body as he tore at the grass beneath him, eventually collapsing in a heap. He cried until he had no tears left, and even then his chest continued to heave heavy dry sobs. Curling in on himself he stayed like that until the candle he had lit burned itself out.

Finally, after what felt like years, Yamaguchi slowly unfurled himself. He felt weak and tired, but also strangely calm, cleansed. Like he was a shard of glass, tumbled smooth in the ravages of the sea. All the sharp edges worn away by sheer force.

He sighed and looked up, it was still dark, but the horizon was starting to lighten the tiniest bit. It was likely well into the early morning, he decided. His eyes swept over the altar in front of him. Both the candle and the incense spent. Quietly, he packed the contents neatly into his bag.

With one final look at the clearing, he turned and readied himself to walk back down the path. Just as he went to take his first step, he felt the gentle pressure of a hand on his shoulder, and his heart swooped. He wanted to whip around and look immediately, but he stopped himself, content to just know Kei was with him, in his own way, in the way that he could be.

He blinked a few new tears from his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly took his first step. The pressure on his shoulder remained, steadying him the entire way down.

When he got to the head of the trail, he stopped in his tracks. He could see the shallow hill that led back up to the road. Something in him knew that as soon as he broke through the trees, Tsukki’s hand would disappear. Slowly, he reached his own hand to his shoulder and hesitantly lowered to where he felt Tsukishima’s hand. Instead of touching his own shoulder though, as he had expected, his hand was met with another. He let out a quiet sob as he curled his fingers around Tsukishima’s and felt him squeeze back. 

“Tsukki,” he whispered. Slowly he turned his head to the side, but was met with nothing but empty forest, he looked down and realized his hand was resting on his own shoulder again. Slowly, he let his hand drift back down to his side. 

Back on the main road, he was struck by how silent everything was. He thought back to earlier this evening when he was walking home, there had been the same sense of stillness and quiet. Except this time, instead of making him feel alone, it filled him with a gentle contentment.

As he walked, a memory materialized from when he and Tsukishima had been in elementary school, not too long after they first met.

“Look, Tsukki! The moon’s still up even though it’s day! How is that possible?”

Tsukishima stopped walking and turned his gaze skyward to look where Yamaguchi had pointed. He was silent for a while before he shrugged and started walking again.

“The moon’s always there, Yamaguchi, even if you can’t see it.”

The memory brought a faint smile to Yamaguchi’s lips. Tsukki had always said things so plainly, even when they were small. 

He pushed the door to his house open. As he made his way inside he let his eyes sweep over everything before him. Evidence of a life built and lived together. Looking around he realized that Tsukki was in everything. Every little detail. He was so tightly woven into the fabric of his life that his presence was irrevocably linked to Yamaguchi. And he always would be, no matter how the months or years wore on. Tsukki was with him. The realization made his chest twist with a dull ache, a sadness he found painful, but also comforting.

He sighed and finished toeing off his shoes, gently setting his backpack down, and immediately making his way to the bedroom. He was so exhausted he barely managed to take off his jeans before collapsing into bed, not bothering to pull the covers up.

In those few brief moments before sleep overtook him, Yamaguchi rolled over onto his back so he could look out the window to his left. The sky was starting to lighten considerably. His eyes sought out the moon, it was there, faintly hung in the sky like a distant whisper. 

Yamaguchi let his eyes flutter shut. “It’s okay,” he thought. “Even if I can’t see it, I know it’s still there.”

And just as the tug of sleep was about to pull him under entirely, he felt the covers being gently pulled up around him, and the lightest kiss being pressed to his forehead. 

“I love you, Kei,” he murmured softly, already asleep.

Tsukishima stepped back and smiled to himself, a feeling of contentment banishing the fog that had swirled around him and his memories. 

“I’m home.” 

And with that, he finally allowed himself to be swept away with the receding tide.