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Dreams teeming with blurred faces and voices that spoke too loudly without making any sense, Kuroo rolled around on his bed. His eyes were shut tightly and he was sweating profusely through his sleepwear. His sheets were sticking to his body, and the little fan next to his bed did little to relieve the suffocating heat that enveloped him.
He opened his eyes suddenly, faced with nothing more than the profound darkness of his room, interrupted only by the pale moonlight that sneaked in through the open blinds. Of what the time was, he had no idea. All he knew was that he couldn’t go back to sleep now. Not when every time he managed to leave the real world behind and sink deep into his dreams there was always something yanking him back to the shore.
Kuroo sat up on his bed and sighed heavily. The best would be to go outside and clear his head. Maybe go up to the rooftop and breathe some fresh air while he—
The unnerving sound of his ringtone cutting through the night’s silence pulled him out of his thoughts. He directed his still hazy eyes towards his bedside table and arched an eyebrow. Who would want to talk to him this late at night? Had something happened back home? He couldn’t really afford a trip back home right now…
He shook his head, compelling himself to leave his worries behind. Kuroo stretched his arm and took the device in his hand, eyes widening in surprise when he was met with the caller’s ID.
Tsukishima Kei.
His ex-boyfriend.
The person who lived a few floors beneath him, in that very same building.
The phone kept ringing and vibrating in his hands, but Kuroo didn’t know what to do. They hadn’t spoken in about four months. (Not that Kuroo kept count.) They couldn’t even maintain eye contact. Aside from living in the same dorm building, they walked past each other fairly often when getting to their respective classes, and they always made sure to walk on opposite ends of the hallway. To avoid any awkwardness, Kuroo would tell himself. But sometimes, when he couldn’t help himself, he’d steal glances at the bespectacled blond, unaware that sometimes, Tsukishima would do the same.
Tsukishima had left him for someone else. And Kuroo had learned to accept that. After so much time had gone by without any type of communication, what could the boy want from him?
“Would you mind shutting that thing off?” The complaint was enough to startle him, making his heart speed up and making him drop his phone onto the mattress.
Kuroo snapped his head to the side to look at the outline of a figure laying on his side. Oikawa Tooru, his roommate. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled his blanket over his head and turned to face the wall, falling back asleep.
Any remnants of his dreams forgotten, Kuroo hurried to put on the first pair of shoes he could find, and, grabbing a hoodie from the heap of clothes at the foot of his bed, he exited the room and walked out onto the hall, bathed in shadows.
Surprisingly, the call had not ended yet, patiently waiting for him to pick up. Steeling himself, Kuroo swallowed, swiped right, and accepted.
“Hello?” There was something about his surroundings and the nature of the entire situation that made him whisper.
“Kuroo!” He had to pull his hands away from his ear when he heard the almost-shout coming from the other side of the line. Tsukishima cleared his throat, as if he was equally surprised by the outburst. “Sorry, I just… I wasn't sure you’d pick up.” It wasn’t hard to notice there was something off in his voice. Kuroo thought he sounded frail. Something Tsukishima seldom was.
“Tsukki? It’s late, really late,” He did his best to avoid sounding irked; that’s not how he felt. He also did his best to ignore the nickname he’d just used. “Do you need something?”
Thanks to the silence surrounding him and to Kuroo’s careful listening, he could sense Tsukishima’s uneven breathing, and the way he said his next words made his stomach twist and leap. “I need help,” He took in a sharp breath. “I need you.”
Something deep inside his mind told Kuroo that the decision he was about to make was nowhere near a proper one. That little voice inside him was screaming, begging him to think this through and see how meeting his ex-boyfriend who he might still have feelings for in the middle of the night was a choice he would come to regret. But… well. It was safe to say that with his mind still clouded by both restlessness and the voice on the phone, Kuroo was far from a rational thinker. To say nothing of how Tsukishima’s weakened voice ripped him of the ability to think straight.
“Where are you?”
___________
Tsukishima used to head up to the rooftop every time he needed to clear his head, or whenever he simply wanted a moment to be alone. That night, he’d gone there because he couldn’t think of any other place to go.
Bokuto, his roommate, was out for the night, probably fast asleep on his boyfriend’s couch. The absence of his loud, cheerful presence made the silence of their tiny room heavy and suffocating. He couldn’t have possibly stayed there; he would have lost his mind.
Tsukishima didn’t cry when it happened. When Itsuki took Tsukishima’s hands in his own and said that what they had wasn’t working out. When he smiled, kind, yet so sad, and said it would be best if they went separate ways. No, he did not cry then. He kept a straight face and nodded. (He now wonders if his stoic expressions were the cause of said break up.)
Frankly, the tears came much later. The tears came when he stepped out onto the rooftop, when he felt the gentle touch of wind hitting his face. Tsukishima’s eyes watered only when he came to realize he didn’t have a shoulder to cry on.
He cried not only because of the sudden rupture, but because with it, arrived a type of solitude he’d never experienced. One he could feel pressing down on his chest and squeezing around his throat. One he had not realized he was bringing upon himself.
He called Kuroo some time after he’d stopped crying. Tsukishima didn’t want him to hear it, even if he knew it would be evident in his voice. Kuroo had always known him too well. Part of him recoiled at the thought of talking to him, but the other, bigger part, was shaking with excitement. Mentally, at least.
Tetsurou was… special. He would always be, no matter what.
Tsukishima knew that even if they hadn’t spoken in months, Kuroo would listen. Knew that he would do everything in his power to attempt to understand whatever Tsukishima said and try to make him feel better. That was just who Kuroo was; amazing with words and emotions, capable of soothing even the most troubled soul. Tsukishima just hoped that it all remained as he remembered, despite everything.
His heart leaped in his chest when he heard Kuroo’s voice. At the third ring, Tsukishima became convinced the boy was either fast asleep, or not as much as a do-gooder as he had wished. And then he picked up, and his thick, scratchy voice sent electricity up his spine and throughout his body.
Hope, as dangerous as it was beautiful, glimmered in the horizon.
He was so close to just telling him everything right there. Of opening the door to his emotions, a door he usually kept under lock and key, and letting it all go through the phone. That was when he heard the question.
“Where are you?”
Tsukishima could feel his heart banging against his ribcage. Could feel his blood rushing and collecting on his cheeks, tainting them a soft shade of pink. Kuroo was willing to help him. He wanted to see him. Kuroo. His ex-boyfriend. The boy he had been purposely avoiding because he felt exceedingly guilty of having caused him any type of pain.
“Rooftop,” He breathed, unable to hide the smile that bloomed on his face. “In our retreat.”
____________
Kuroo opened the heavy, metallic door with a slight push, his breath uneven and his legs beginning to ache from having run all the way there. At first, he could see nothing more than the dim lights coming from the buildings around him, until he identified the slight movements of a body near the edge.
Tsukishima Kei was sitting on the floor, arms hugging his legs as he rested his head on his knees, looking out at the sky with stars in his eyes.
For a moment, Kuroo felt he lacked oxygen.
“Hey,” He stood by the door, feeling nervous and elevated and uncomfortable all at once. Unsure of how to stand or what to do with his hands. What should he say? Why had Tsukishima even called in the first place?
“Oh,” Golden eyes, darkened by the night, yet embossed into Kuroo’s memory, turned to see him. Flashing a smile colored in gloom. “Hey.”
They both looked so painfully anxious that anyone would mistake the purpose of their encounter. Who would have guessed that the history of their failed relationship hung heavy on both their shoulders? Kuroo walked over carefully, vaguely wondering if it would have been best to ignore the call. They hadn’t been this close in a while, and for a moment he stopped to think that maybe the lessening distance would make it difficult to think clearly.
Despite the poor illumination, it was evident Tsukishima had been crying. Kuroo couldn’t begin to explain how much the image pained him.
“Can I sit?”
Tsukishima nodded, directing his gaze back to the view before him.
They were both aware of what the place meant to them, incapable of simply ignoring the countless hours they had spent up there, huddled closely together as they watched the stars, admired how they seemed to shine just for them. Nights infused with hearty laughter and sweet kisses were engraved deep into both their memories. And it would take more than tears and heartache to pluck the roots of their feelings from their chests.
“Remember the night we met?” Tsukishima spoke softly, fearing he would crack the fragility of the moment if he were to raise his voice.
Meanwhile, Kuroo looked at him carefully, curious about how long this vulnerability would last. “I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to,” He grinned. “You’ve never looked more uncomfortable than when Bokuto presented us.”
Tsukishima chuckled, a smooth, quiet sound that shook Kuroo’s very core. “You didn’t look quite at ease yourself.”
“How could I?” Kuroo placed a hand on the floor, close to where Tsukishima’s own slender hand rested now that he had let go of his legs. “The most beautiful guy I’d ever seen was standing right in front of my face.”
It was truly a bit surprising. How easy it was for them to fall back into their usual rhythm, nevermind the months of silence and avoidance. The anxiety Kuroo had felt when he first walked over to Tsukishima’s side was washed away effortlessly by the tidal wave that was Tsukishima Kei. His half-smirk and the tiniest scrunch of his nose at Kuroo’s comment, the pool of molten gold hidden behind thick glasses, the swoop of blond curls that fell over his forehead and poked at his ears.
Kuroo remembered then, those moments he’d tried to push away. The moments that had stayed dormant inside his chest, waiting to claw their way up from the shadows where he thought he’d buried them. Finding that exact second to break free and flood his heart with feelings he’d convinced himself weren’t there anymore.
By the time Kuroo had realized that Tsukishima hadn’t said anything back, feelings were crawling up his throat and threatening to spill into the frigid air surrounding them.
He was astonished, then, when in Tsukishima’s eyes, now directed straight at him, he could recognize his own feelings being reflected back to him.
“If you could go back,” Tsukishima all but whispered, and Kuroo couldn’t help but notice how they were both inching closer. Always gravitating towards each other. “Would you change anything?”
Would he? Would he really give up on the sea of shy touches and knowing glances in exchange for never experiencing the pain of letting go? Would he erase Tsukishima from his memory, if given the chance?
“A thousand times,” Kuroo said, matching Tsukishima’s quiet tone. “I’d do it all over again a thousand times.”
I’d fall in love with you again, again, and again. As many times as it takes for you to love me back.
Tsukishima’s eyes dropped to the floor then, to both their hands, most definitely noting their proximity, judging from the weak sigh he let out. He looked troubled, the skin between his brows forming a wrinkle Kuroo knew all too well. It took all of his willpower to not reach out and rub the skin smooth with his thumb.
“We broke up,” Tsukishima’s eyes fluttered close, and it almost looked like surrender. “Itsuki and I, I mean, and you’re the first person I could think of calling and I—.”
Tsukishima sighed. Kuroo knew he was probably racking his brain, searching desperately for the words needed to express what he felt. He’d always had trouble with it, shaping his own emotions into letters and phrases, and Kuroo had always tried his best to be patient. To smile reassuringly and encourage him to take his time as he rubbed lazy patterns onto Tsukishima’s skin. That usual patience took over now, and he waited, until Tsukishima opened his eyes again and looked up at him through his glasses.
“I don’t… I don’t want you to think I’m trying to use you, or anything.” As he talked, Tsukishima stretched his legs and turned his torso, facing Kuroo completely, trying to show the sincerity of his words through his body. “I just, I guess I thought it would be easy to talk to you. So thank you, for picking up, and for coming here, even if you had no reason to.”
Kuroo’s hand moved on its own. It was a practiced response, really, picking Tsukishima’s hand from the ground and covering it with his fingers. It’s what he used to do, whenever the boy was feeling down and Kuroo would want to remind him he was there for him.
There would perhaps come a day when Kuroo’s body would no longer react to Tsukishima. But that day wasn’t here yet.
“Hearing you ask for help was reason enough to come,” He pulled Tsukishima’s hand upwards, bringing his wrist close to his lips so he could give it a gentle kiss—another carefully cultivated habit of his. “I’ll always be here for you, Kei, despite everything.”
It was a promise—more than that, an offer. A hand extended into the abyss of solitude Tsukishima had plunged himself into in the hopes that someone would pull him out. And with a lopsided grin and eyes imbued with kindness, Kuroo offered to be that person, exes or not.
For a moment, it felt as though the air around them had stilled, as if the whole city had slowed down and stopped. Kuroo imagined the stars scrambling, pushing against each other to see whether Tsukishima would accept the hand extended to him. Could see them straining their necks to get a good look as Tsukishima decided if he would let Kuroo haul him out of the darkness of his own heart and show him just how bright the world around them actually was. With a wicked desire to witness their demise, the skies waited.
“Are you sure?” Never had Tsukishima sounded so careful.
“The surest I’ve ever been.” Sincerity, the purest kind, coated Kuroo’s words.
Tsukishima reached for Kuroo’s hand, cutting through his insecurities as he grounded himself with Kuroo’s touch. Satisfied with this answer, the air resumed its blowing, the city picked up its usual speed, and the stars returned to their places.
The world, it turns out, had been kind to them.
____________
“How’s freckles doing?” Tsukishima was sitting between Kuroo’s legs now, back pressed against his chest as Kuroo’s arms wrapped around his waist, head resting on Tsukishima’s shoulder.
He couldn’t see it, but he knew Tsukishima was smiling, his features soft. It had always been quite a sight, how the mere mention of his childhood friend managed to dull the sharp edges of Tsukishima’s character. Kuroo had always found their friendship endearing, loved watching the two boys sync up perfectly. Besides, hanging out with Yamaguchi ensured having someone to make fun of Tsukishima with.
“He’s alright. College suits him, you know? He’s nothing like the little anxious kid he used to be, and he looks happy. Though,” Tsukishima sighed. “He’s gonna murder me when he finds out I called you before I called him.”
Kuroo hummed, amused at the image of Tsukishima cowering before an upset Yamaguchi. “I can see that happening, any last wishes before your inevitable death?”
Tsukishima thought it through for a few seconds, his index finger drawing circles onto Kuroo’s knee. “I wish we could have lunch sometime,” He said, tentatively, as if Kuroo would ever deny him anything. “Just to catch up.” Tsukishima pressed his finger against Kuroo’s knee with much more strength than necessary. Kuroo let him. “We haven’t talked in a while, I wish–” He stopped himself, seemingly realizing where his words were headed and feeling terrified of what they might uncover if ever allowed to run rampant.
“You wish?” Kuroo coaxed. They had already come this far, had already broken down the barriers they had painstakingly built around each other. Kuroo doubted any more damage could be done to their tangle of a relationship—or lack thereof.
“I was hoping we could be friends?”
Friends.
The hope Kuroo had grabbed and held onto proved worthwhile.
“Of course we can be friends,” He answered, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “We can be anything you want. And I’d be more than happy to have lunch sometime.”
Kuroo felt it, the moment Tsukishima’s body completely relaxed against his own. He felt how the tension on his shoulders dissipated and how he finally let himself go lax against Kuroo’s chest.
“I really don’t understand you,” He said, but there was no bite to it. “Is this how you treat all of your exes? You meet them whenever they ask to and then make friends with them?”
“I only have three exes, but I think becoming friends with them after you’ve ended a relationship is quite healthy.” Kuroo answered, after taking a few moments to consider. He supposed this was Tsukishima’s way of knowing if Kuroo was being serious about them spending time together. About being friends.
“Why would that be healthy?” Tsukishima muttered.
Kuroo tightened his grip on Tsukishima’s waist. “It’s healthier than ignoring each other.”
Tsukishima kept quiet, choosing instead to lean back against Kuroo’s chest to look up at the starry sky. Kuroo would have done the same—he was going to, before he angled his head to the side and caught a glimpse of how the stars reflected in Tsukishima’s eyes. (There, in the darkness of the night, the gold in his eyes looked almost black.)
“Hey,” Kuroo said, softly. “Why did you call me before you called freckles?” It was a little worrying, the thought that maybe the two of them were fighting. They never fought. For as long as Kuroo had known them.
Tsukishima’s hands tensed where they were splayed over Kuroo’s legs, and Kuroo could hear the turning of the gears in his head. Could feel him deciding if it was worth it to discuss his friendships with such an unlikely audience.
“Tadashi…” Tsukishima started, still sounding uncertain about whether he should keep going or not. He did anyway. “He’d always told me that Itsuki and I weren’t gonna work out. I mean—not really, not like that —but he did imply it. I think.” He sighed. Kuroo waited.
A couple beats went by. Kuroo spotted an airplane flying over them, saw the red and blue lights from the corner of his eyes. When the plane was out of view, Tsukishima went on. (For a second, Kuroo smiled at the thought that maybe Tsukishima didn’t want to risk anyone listening to them—even if the airplane was miles above them, even if the stars were already listening.)
“I know he thought we weren’t good for each other, that I was not good for him. That—” Tsukishima paused again, to stop his voice from breaking. “He thought that I was just trying to run away from myself.
“And he was right, of course he was. Tadashi’s always right about this sort of thing.” Tsukishima chuckled. “I didn’t—I don’t want him to worry about me, at least not for tonight. If I’d gone to see him… He would have looked at me as if I were made of glass.”
Kuroo stopped himself from saying that he was always looking at Tsukishima as if he were made of glass—as if he were a rare antiquity which had to be handled with utmost care. (He was—he is . In Kuroo’s eyes, Tsukishima is the rarest of specimens.) Perhaps that had been one of the reasons Tsukishima had decided he was better off with someone else; Kuroo thinking of him as an antiquity, as a specimen.
Kuroo supposed he didn’t have to ask. Not when it was so clear.
“I’m a little hurt to hear I wasn’t your first option.”
Tsukishima hummed, glad for Kuroo’s attempt at distracting him. “Second place isn’t that bad,” He said, and Kuroo could tell from the slight slurring of his words that Tsukishima was beginning to get sleepy. “Tadashi would have really killed me if I hadn’t at least thought about calling him first.”
___________
When they got to Kuroo’s floor, Tsukishima let go of his hand—which he held for three flights of stairs. Tsukishima still had three other flights to go until he reached his floor. They both lingered at the top of the staircase. Looking. Waiting.
A question hung heavy in the air. Weighed on both their minds.
Want me to walk you?
It was a good thing that they could still communicate without the need for words. Through glances alone.
I’ll be fine.
I don’t want you to be alone.
I won’t.
Tsukishima smiled, one of those rare smiles which were usually reserved for Yamaguchi—which had some day been reserved for Kuroo, too.
“Good night, Tetsurou.”
___________
Tucked into bed, away from any prying stars or curious moons, Kuroo thought about blond locks and deep golden eyes. He thought about never ending night skies and cold fingers rubbing against the clothed skin of his legs.
Kuroo thought about the sadness that had dripped from Tsukishima’s words no more than half an hour ago. About the smile that had been gifted to him right before Tsukishima walked down the stairs and away from him. About the promises that smile had conveyed; promises including lunch breaks spent together and the rekindling of a friendship he had deemed lost.
Those moments that had threatened to close up his throat and asphyxiate him, the moments that had spilled into his mind and had tainted his every thought a rich shade of gold, the moments that had stayed—that will stay—branded onto his mind, heart, and skin.
Kuroo was now grateful for them.