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“I’m thinking of retiring from volleyball.”
Tsukishima gave Kuroo no warning before he announced this news, not even looking up from the book he was reading, as though he were commenting on something as mundane as the weather, and not a huge life decision.
Melodramatic as he was, Kuroo started choking on his drink.
It took a whole minute for him to recover, during which time Tsukishima made no effort to go and assist his friend, simply rolling his eyes. “Well that was an over-reaction.”
He hadn’t chosen today to break the news for any particular reason besides it being the last day they had together for a little while. Tsukishima tried to make it to Tokyo at least once a month to see Kuroo and the rest of his friends, usually timing it for when the national team were training to maximise the number of people he got to see.
Kuroo and Bokuto frequently teased him for how soft he’d grown since high school, but Tsukishima had to begrudgingly admit that the older he got, the more he valued the friendships he’d built and maintained over the years.
Even Hinata’s.
Besides, visiting the city was always fun; he enjoyed spending a few days living in a fast-paced blur of crowds, colours and incredible food. He loved Sendai, and it would always be home, but it was nice to leave the slower life behind every so often.
After finally finishing coughing, Kuroo leapt up from his own couch with an admirable display of energy and crashed down on to the one Tsukishima was occupying, sitting cross-legged on the seat at a right angle to his friend, so he could look at him directly. While his eyes were boring into the side of Tsukishima’s head, his toes pressed against his thigh, and in the end, Tsukishima looked up at him pointedly, if only to distract himself from their proximity.
“Retiring?” Kuroo spluttered in disbelief, hands outstretched in an unspoken demand for Tsukishima to provide some more details.
“I think it’s time,” was Tsukishima’s calm response.
Kuroo gaped at him for a while, mouth opening and closing while he tried to find the words. “But you’re only twenty seven,” he finally settled on.
“And before you know it, I’ll be twenty eight. And that means a decade since I graduated high school,” Tsukishima pointed out.
Kuroo went to protest again, but as that fact sunk in, he blinked. “Huh.”
“Exactly,” Tsukishima said, taking advantage of the silence. “And besides, you know my ankle hasn’t been the same for the last few years.”
He reached out to rub it unconsciously, and Kuroo nodded, a frown on his face as they both thought back to the particularly vicious injury he’d sustained during a match several years back. After Tsukishima and his teammate had leapt up to block, a wrong movement meant that when they landed back on the ground, his teammate had crashed back down onto Tsukishima’s foot and ankle instead of the ground.
Miraculously, it had not been broken, but even after physiotherapy, Tsukishima’s ankle had never quite been the same. Sometimes it ached more than it should when he landed strangely, and sometimes it wavered and sent him off-balance when trying to dig the ball, and worst of all, sometimes it would twinge with pain when he was simply doing nothing at all.
Those moments never lasted long, and none of it had stopped him playing volleyball to the best of his ability, but he knew in himself that he’d never quite gotten back to the level he’d been playing at previously, and he’d already guessed back then that it meant he was going to have to retire from the sport a little sooner than he’d planned to.
He’d hoped to at least make it past thirty though, especially since he wasn’t playing in the top tier professional league.
“I’m sorry, Tsukishima,” Kuroo said, sounding solemn and genuine for once, and Tsukishima smiled at him, waving away the words.
“It’s okay,” he assured his friend, “I promise. And it’s not just my ankle.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been offered a new job. In Tokyo.”
Tsukishima studied Kuroo’s face, tracking his expressions as he cycled through surprised, happy, thoughtful, and finally, unabashed excitement as it sunk in that Tsukishima would be based in the same city as him.
“You’re moving here?” Kuroo asked immediately, seeking confirmation of this before offering any sort of congratulations.
“Yes,” Tsukishima laughed, and before he could say anything else, Kuroo was up on his feet, holding a hand out to pull Tsukishima up with him.
“You should have started with that! We have to go out to celebrate! I’m taking you out for dinner, and you can tell me all about this new job and what you’ll be doing and where you’ll be based and what your plans are for-“
“If I say yes, will you stop talking?” Tsukishima asked, reluctantly letting himself be dragged into a standing position.
“No, but you still have to say yes anyway,” Kuroo informed him, already stuffing his phone and wallet into his pockets as he hunted for his jacket on his way to the hall. “I’m paying!”
“Well I suppose I can’t say no to that,” Tsukishima admitted, smiling fondly at his friend hopping in the door as he put his shoes on.
Not that he’d ever tell him this, but the only other person who knew about the job so far was his brother. For some reason, Kuroo had stuck out as being the person he wanted to tell before anyone else, even Yamaguchi and Yachi, and his current reaction was not disappointing.
“This is so exciting!”
“This is terrible.”
Kuroo stabbed angrily at his rice, eliciting a smirk from Tsukishima.
“I thought we were celebrating,” Tsukishima said dryly, calmly picking up his own mouthful of food and surveying Kuroo.
“Sorry,” Kuroo muttered, looking a little sheepish before straightening up. “We are celebrating. I’m so happy for you, Tsukki, I really am. No one deserves this more. And I’m thrilled you’ll be moving to Tokyo.”
“But...” Tsukishima prompted.
Kuroo paused for a moment. His congratulations weren’t meant to be followed by a ‘but’, and he didn’t want to detract from the moment, but Tsukishima clearly wasn’t fooled.
“But I wish it was for longer than six months,” he admitted eventually.
For obvious reasons, Tsukishima had not led with that fact. Kuroo’s elation had been too wonderful for him to spoil, so he’d indulged him for the fifteen minutes it took them to walk to their favourite restaurant, and then Tsukishima broke the news that the Tokyo job wasn’t a permanent one.
“They’re opening a new exhibit at the Edo-Tokyo Museum,” he’d explained, “and if I accept the job, I’ll be curating it. It’s a six month placement; four months planning, two months open. And my current place has said that they’ll keep my job open, so I can go back to it when I’m done.”
“And the Frogs?”
“Also keeping my spot open,” Tsukishima said gently.
“I thought you wanted to retire!”
“I said I’m thinking of it. This feels like a good opportunity to walk away with my head held high, not in an end-of-season flurry, or worse, after a defeat.”
“I see,” Kuroo nodded, pondering the idea of six months, how long it was, what it allowed for.
Time was a funny thing, after all.
In the first few years after high school ended, Kuroo had kept in touch with almost everyone he knew, his busy social calendar meaning he was always occupied but rarely with the same people. For a while, he and Tsukishima had been lucky to catch up twice in one year, although nothing had ever changed between them regardless of how much time had passed.
Eventually though, as was always the way, he drifted apart from old friends as people moved around, settled down, or embarked on new adventures. Kuroo found himself building a smaller friendship group, of people he saw more often, and with whom he had a deeper connection beyond simple enquiries as to how life was going.
Kenma remained by his side, steadfast as ever, even with his meteoric rise to semi-stardom. Bokuto too - and by extension, Akaashi - especially after they’d both wound up involved with the men’s national volleyball team. His job meant he’d also reconnected with Hinata and Kageyama, of all people, as well as Yaku, and a few other recognisable faces from his high school days.
And, of course, Tsukishima had stuck around; not something he’d always expected, but he’d always held out hope. After all, the longer he stuck around, the more time Kuroo had to act. As time had gone on, their biannual meetings had increased in frequency, until it was strange for them to go more than a few weeks without spending time together, if only for a day at times.
Kuroo couldn’t deny the thrill of no longer having to spend weeks without seeing one another, but mere hours instead, and it was ultimately this thought that won out over all the others. If six months of instant-Tsukki was all he could get, he’d take it. After all, who knew what the future held?
“Say something,” Tsukishima prompted between mouthfuls of food, and Kuroo realised he’d been quiet for an uncharacteristically long time.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Hilarious.”
“Enlighten me on your thoughts.”
“My thoughts are... that I’m insanely happy for you, incredibly proud, and beyond stoked that you’ll be in Tokyo with me, even if it’s just for a short time.”
Not expecting such a heartfelt statement, Tsukishima instantly turned bright red. He had no idea how to respond, and he was annoyed that Kuroo was smirking at him because that was definitely the reaction he’d planned for.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, suddenly flustered. “Me too, yeah. Same. Excited to live together.”
Tsukishima, upon realising what he’d said, managed to turn even redder, and Kuroo now paused his eating to ensure he could enjoy this reaction thoroughly.
“In the same city!” Tsukishima cried out before he could say anything. “Living in the same city, together. At the same time. Living at the same time in the same city. We can see each other whenever we want.”
Kuroo stayed silent for a moment, letting Tsukishima stew in his awkwardness for a while longer, and deriving a certain amount of pleasure from seeing him come so undone, a far cry from his usually stoic self. Eventually though, he put Tsukishima out of his misery, and seized the opportunity to ask the question he’d had floating around in his head ever since Tsukishima had shared his news.
“And have you decided that yet? Where you’ll be living? When you’re living at the same time in the same city as me?”
Tsukishima pulled a face at Kuroo that five years ago might have meant rice was about to be flicked in his direction. They hadn’t grown up by much in that time, but enough that a food fight was no longer a viable way to hold a discussion. Still, Kuroo was enjoying the murderous look in his eyes.
“No,” Tsukishima admitted eventually, “but that’s okay. I’ll find somewhere. It’s only for six months.”
“Rent’s pretty high in Tokyo,” Kuroo mused, poking at a bit of egg and trying not to smile.
“I’ll manage,” Tsukishima said, looking furiously down into his bowl and attacking a piece of shrimp with more force than was strictly necessary.
“On a curator’s wage?”
“I’m not saying it’ll be the nicest place, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Are you going to share with someone else?”
“Maybe, I don’t know yet. Haven’t looked into the details.”
“It would be cheaper to have a roommate.”
“Of course it would, so that’s probably what I’ll do.”
“Living with a total stranger though. That could be rough.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“You have pretty high standards, Tsukki.”
“Well then I’ll find someone else with high standards.”
“I suppose you’ll need to be near a rail station too.”
Tsukishima finally snapped, slamming his chopsticks down on to the table and glaring up at Kuroo, who was by now smiling broadly at his riled up friend, food forgotten in favour of teasing Tsukishima.
“What are you doing?” Tsukishima hissed. “Are you trying to make me change my mind about moving here?”
“What? No, no no, of course not,” Kuroo said frantically, aghast at the idea. “I’m trying to ask you to move in with me, you idiot.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Why wouldn’t you just ask me that?” Tsukishima said, exasperated.
“Because I didn’t know how to ask!”
“So you thought the best way was to annoy me?”
“You’re annoyed all the time anyway!” Kuroo cried out in defence. “This way seemed more fun!”
“For you!”
They sat quietly for a moment, Kuroo reeling while Tsukishima sipped his tea and tried to calm down. This was absolutely not how Kuroo had ever envisaged asking Tsukishima to move in with him, and now he was desperately trying to figure out how to remedy the situation.
“Tsukki,” Kuroo began eventually, and Tsukishima glared at him for daring to use his most detested nickname at a time like this. Kuroo rolled his eyes and began again. “Kei. I would love for you to move in with me while you’re staying in Tokyo.”
Thrown by the sudden intimacy of Kuroo’s words, Tsukishima did the only thing he could think to do, and scoffed. “Somehow, nothing you say ever sounds sincere.”
The edges of Kuroo’s eyes tightened imperceptibly, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Well it was. Take it or leave it.”
Tsukishima pulled a face at the throwaway words, and Kuroo groaned, loud enough that a few tables turned to face them.
“You enjoy staying at my place, right?” he asked.
“Obviously,” Tsukishima replied, shaking his head.
Staying with Kuroo was not something Tsukishima had ever intended to become a regular thing, or a thing at all. For the first few years after high school, especially while they’d all been at college or scattered across the country, even the globe, his trips to Tokyo had been infrequent. He rarely stayed overnight, and when he did, he’d pick whatever hotel was cheapest.
As time had worn on though, and people started putting down roots, Kuroo’s luxurious Tokyo apartment became more and more convenient. The sports promoter job had looked promising from the start, a permanent career path for him, and its considerable salary meant Kuroo’s place boasted four bedrooms and three bathrooms. There was more than enough space for Tsukishima to stay over, and more importantly, for them to not be treading on each other’s toes.
The offer had been too good for Tsukishima to refuse the first time round, payment via a meal out and some drinks on his last night working out far cheaper than even the rattiest of hotels, and then the second time round, and eventually, somewhere along the way, it had just become routine.
Even though he was only there for a few days a month, sometimes less, there was an unspoken rule that one of the guest bedrooms more or less belonged to Tsukishima, and he kept some spare clothes and other items in the closet in case of emergencies.
Secretly, Tsukishima had always kind of enjoyed the fact he was able to leave his mark, in any small way, on Kuroo’s home.
Travelling back to Sendai always brought with it the pang of leaving Kuroo behind, the irrational yet stubborn worry that at some point, he was going to leave it too long between trips or something was going to happen that had Kuroo leaving him in the past, moving on to bigger and better things. It hadn’t happened so far, and as the years wore on and they only grew closer, it became less and less of a concern, but the day Kuroo had invited him to leave a few things behind for next time had done a lot to still those nerves.
Now, Kuroo’s home was more of a home from home for Tsukishima, but until today, he’d never considered the idea of it being an actual home, even temporarily.
“Well then,” Kuroo said, but when Tsukishima still looked doubtful, he pressed on. “Come on, Kei. I don’t know how else to get you to believe me, but I’m not just offering you my place because I think I owe you something or because I think you even need the help. You know I was just teasing before; man, you’re the most terrifyingly organised person I know. You’d find a place in Tokyo the second you started looking, and it’d probably be nicer than mine for half the rent.
“I’m asking you to move in with me because the idea of having you around all day every day, even if it’s not forever, sounds like the most fun I’ve had in years. We work well when we live together, weirdly, surprisingly well. You’re okay with me leaving my socks everywhere and I put up with you always wanting to watch the history channels, and we even came up with the perfect system for deciding who washes the dishes-”
“I wouldn’t say paper, scissors, stone is really a system,” Tsukishima finally interjected.
“It is, and you know it. And anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that we’re going to be living in the same city for the first time ever, and I think we should make the most of that.”
Kuroo finally paused to properly take a breath, and Tsukishima surveyed him, trying to maintain a neutral face and not give away that Kuroo’s entire outburst had left him at a loss for words for the second time that day. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the Kuroo who had just delivered such an impassioned speech, and he could feel the tips of his ears burning once again.
“Are you done?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Kuroo said, and then let out a shaky breath. “Don’t know what came over me there.”
“I had no idea you even knew that many words,” Tsukishima said, and for the first time in ten minutes, they both laughed, breaking whatever strange atmosphere had built up and easily slipping back into their usual comfort.
“So?” Kuroo asked, finally resuming his meal now that the crisis had been somewhat averted and he’d accidentally laid all his cards on the table.
“Fine,” Tsukishima relented. Kuroo’s face lit up, which Tsukishima tried his hardest not to smile at, and then he started fist pumping the air, which marked the moment Tsukishima had to intervene. “Okay, no, none of that, people have stared enough this evening. And for the record... I am never okay with you leaving your socks everywhere.”
“Tell me about the new job then.”
The rest of dinner had passed in a blur of conversation, laughter, and celebration at their newfound roommate status, and it wasn’t until they’d gotten back to Kuroo’s that he realised he hadn’t even asked what Tsukishima would be doing.
“Really?”
Tsukishima turned to face him, eyes hopeful and gleaming at the idea of sharing, which immediately made Kuroo cautious.
“Of course,” he said slowly.
“Well,” Tsukishima began, barely letting him finish, “me and a few others are building up a comprehensive timeline of transport in Japan, looking at how things shifted just after the Edo period to begin building what was the start of Japan’s modern railway system, and how the end of the shogunate was instrumental in allowing this new form of transport to take shape...”
Kuroo let Tsukishima talk at him about trains - worse, the history of trains - for a good fifteen minutes, carefully paying attention and nodding in all the right places, before he finally decided that perhaps the rest of Tsukishima’s explanation was best saved for another time.
“I’m so sorry, Tsukki,” he interrupted, forcing his most apologetic tone as he cut his friend off mid-flow, “but I’m getting really tired. Can we carry this on another time?”
For a moment, Tsukishima looked put out, but then a smile spread across his face, which Kuroo found alarming in its simple, genuine nature.
“Sure, by next time I’ll have some props ready to show you,” he said, with pure excitement.
Simultaneously, Kuroo’s heart sank at the knowledge they were clearly nowhere near done with this topic, while it soared at Tsukishima’s earnestly eager demeanour, amazed at how even now, he was finding new ways to fall for the man.
Because he was falling for him. Had fallen, actually. For as long as Kuroo had known Tsukishima, he’d loved him.
At first it was just admiration, amusement, a desire to be friends. Kuroo had loved the idea of Tsukishima; had loved his ridiculous attitude that didn’t match the rest of his team’s, had loved how little he cared about a sport he was so obviously talented at, had loved his dry sense of humour that went over the tops of most people’s heads. He’d loved being around him, and talking to him, and chipping away at his stony surface to reveal what was underneath; a kid who was something of a dork, who maybe did enjoy volleyball more than he let on, and whose sense of humour was even more wicked with those he knew and trusted.
Somewhere along the way, sometime in their twenties, Kuroo realised he no longer just loved Tsukishima Kei. He was in love with him. That high school goofball had given way to a man who was sharp, intelligent, and dazzling in every way. Tsukishima’s mind and the way he shared his thoughts in that soft, measured voice had Kuroo under a spell, wishing he could talk to him every second of every day just to scratch the surface of Tsukishima’s brilliance.
All of this, combined with just how stupidly handsome Kuroo found him to be, left him helpless. Tsukishima had sealed Kuroo’s fate the moment he’d stepped into that gymnasium all those years ago, and Kuroo had spent over a decade doing everything in his power to keep Tsukishima around. And here they were, making plans to move in together and likely grow even closer, as close as two people could possibly be without letting friendship spill into something more.
Looking at Tsukishima now, into those piercing hazel eyes that held so much warmth for those who knew how to thaw him out, the way they were shining, Kuroo realised he was going to have to do some serious soul-searching over the next few months, trying to figure out a way to prepare for what was coming, because living with the unrequited object of your affections didn’t exactly sound appealing.
The only thing worse than having Tsukishima around but not being able to tell him the truth though, was not having him around at all.
He feared that his speeches and general enthusiasm that night had been enough to give the game away, but for once, Tsukishima’s blissful ignorance of the feelings of everyone around him was probably going to come in useful. Kuroo liked it that way. Not once, in all their years of knowing one another, had Tsukishima given so much as a hint that Kuroo’s feelings were returned, and that was fine.
He had no expectation of that, and more importantly, he wasn’t about to tell Tsukishima the truth and risk placing expectations on him, expectations he wouldn’t be able to meet.
Silence had worked just fine after all these years, and it would work fine for another six months too.
Kuroo came to reflect wryly on that thought reasonably often once Tsukishima had moved in.
It took a few weeks to learn how to live together, how to navigate this new level of friendship between them. There were never any issues, but it was certainly different.
For Tsukishima, he was juggling adapting to a new job, a new city and a new home all at once, and that brought with it many challenges. For Kuroo, he simply hadn’t realised how difficult silence would be once Tsukishima arrived. He was a constant, wonderful, all-consuming presence in his life, and seemingly determined to unwittingly throw Kuroo into emotional turmoil at every opportunity he got.
Usually it was the little things.
Like the first time he’d ever come home mid-week to the smell of food cooking in his apartment, radio playing from the kitchen, heating switched on in anticipation of his arrival soaking wet from the rain. It had been a hellish day, filled with phone calls with rude and impatient people, and more and more additions to his already never-ending ‘to-do list’, and by the time Kuroo trudged into his apartment, wrenching his tie off with one hand and dropping his briefcase in the hallway to deal with later, he was both exhausted and grumpy, a terrible combination.
And then he’d stepped into the kitchen, found Tsukishima watching over a curry that was simmering away while humming slightly to whatever music was playing, and it was like every worry he’d ever had simply melted away. His entire universe narrowed to just his kitchen, Tsukki, and the steaming bowl of miso soup being pushed into his hands.
Kuroo accepted it gratefully, unable to even find the words, just shooting Tsukishima a look that said all it needed to. While he was sipping the piping hot broth, Tsukishima even helped him out of his sopping wet work jacket, took it away and came back with a thick blanket he’d left near a heater so it was extra snug, and Kuroo was so touched that he’d rather embarrassingly found himself close to tears.
If Tsukishima noticed the shine to his eyes, he didn’t say anything, which only made matters worse, and if Kuroo hadn’t been in love with Tsukishima before that series of events, he certainly was now.
Sometimes it was the big things.
Not training with the Frogs had done wonders for Tsukishima’s ankle, as much as Kuroo could see that he hated to admit it, so when he’d twisted it outside their apartment, the pain was clearly more than he’d managed for a while.
It hadn’t even been a bad fall - they’d just been chatting, discussing what they’d need at the supermarket they were going on a joint trip to, and then just a few steps away from the footpath, Tsukishima had lost his balance, and his already weak ankle had given way all too easily.
Kuroo’s first instinct was to panic, while Tsukishima’s was to curse, incredibly loudly, and then the two of them had made an abrupt about turn and started heading back up to the apartment, Kuroo hovering in case Tsukishima needed some support, which they both knew he was never going to ask for.
After getting him positioned on the couch with a hefty bag of ice and a plethora of cushions, Tsukishima had insisted Kuroo go back out and pick up the shopping they needed - their fridge was pitifully empty, and no one had ever died of a twisted ankle.
The shopping had been completed in lightning time, Tsukishima rolling his eyes when Kuroo appeared back at the door, breathless and dishevelled with a shopping bag filled with the strangest assortment of items he’d ever seen, and then Kuroo had declared the rest of the day cancelled so that they could just sit and watch movies while Tsukishima kept his ankle raised and iced.
It had turned into a cosy afternoon together, and in hindsight, not Kuroo’s smartest move, because around early evening, he’d felt a sudden weight on his shoulder, and found that Tsukishima had fallen asleep against him. Tufts of impossibly soft blonde hair tickled his neck as Tsukishima nestled into him, and Kuroo hardly dared to breathe as he tried to get comfortable, avoiding the thought that this whole roommates idea really had been a colossal mistake.
And every so often, it was little things that became big things indeed.
Kuroo had always known Tsukishima was a light sleeper, had heard him padding around the apartment in the early hours many times over the years, which was never a problem, because Kuroo could always fall asleep in seconds and once he was out, he was dead to the world.
Sometimes though, his mind would be racing too fast for even him to ignore, and on those nights, he usually found himself in the kitchen, trying to distract himself with a snack, or some music, or - and this was Kenma’s terrible influence - a video on his phone that he knew would do nothing but ultimately make it harder to sleep.
The time eventually came where they both found themselves having a sleepless night. Too absorbed in assessing the contents of his fridge, Kuroo didn’t even notice Tsukishima creeping into the kitchen until he accidentally knocked some pans sitting on the side and scared the living daylights out of him.
Tsukishima chuckled as Kuroo turned to face him, looking for all the world like a child who had been caught snacking when they weren’t supposed to, despite the fact this was his own fridge and he was nearly thirty years old.
“Give me some warning next time,” Kuroo grumbled quietly, hand on his chest.
“Sorry,” Tsukishima laughed quietly, wandering over to lean against the counter next to him. “Cooking up anything good in here?”
Kuroo sheepishly offered up their sushi leftovers from earlier that day. “Not exactly.”
“Looks pretty good to me,” Tsukishima smiled, wandering over to join him.
They ate together in silence mostly, leaving the fridge door open to help them see since neither felt particularly inclined to switch a light on. When they did speak, it was soft and gentle, as if they feared that talking too loudly might break the spell around them. The city was still alive outside, its muffled soundtrack making its way up to them, but the liminal atmosphere of three thirty in the morning made Kuroo’s kitchen feel like it was in another world altogether.
Soft felt like a good way to describe Tsukishima at this hour.
So used to his cold exterior, biting sarcasm, and apparent lack of enthusiasm for most things, Kuroo enjoyed seeing the vulnerable side of Tsukishima; dressing gown tied haphazardly, worn slippers he refused to part with, tousled hair from his tossing and turning. His face seemed younger, his smile genuine when Kuroo nudged the pot of soy sauce over to him before he could ask, wide eyes and engaged expression despite the time.
On his part, Kuroo was wearing the same thing he did every night; a pair of pyjama shorts, fluffy socks that came up to his knees, and nothing else. The first time he’d seen the get up, Tsukishima had giggled, a delightful sound to Kuroo’s ears. The get-up had always felt cute from then on, but standing there now, Tsukishima inches from his bare chest, shoulder nudging against his skin when he reached over to steal a particularly nice-looking uramaki roll, Kuroo didn’t feel cute.
He felt electric.
Everything felt electric.
From the buzz of the refrigerator running to the dappled moonlight on the kitchen counters to the way Tsukishima kept peering up at him from under his eyelashes as he leaned over the counter, Kuroo felt like he was about to lose his mind. For the first time in the two months since Tsukishima had moved in, he was struck with the notion that maybe he couldn’t do this, that maybe it was too hard to be around Tsukishima all the time and pretend he wasn’t head over heels for him.
“I’m heading back to bed,” Tsukishima announced, and brushed past Kuroo as he tossed his utensils into the sink, before pausing directly in front of him, their faces so close Kuroo could see every line and freckle on Tsukishima’s face. “Goodnight, again.”
Kuroo’s brain short-circuited, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to repeat Tsukishima’s words back to him, not when he was invading every inch of Kuroo’s personal space, Kuroo’s mind, Kuroo’s heart.
Instead, he let Tsukishima walk away, as he stood frozen in place, sushi forgotten, fridge still running.
Surely he couldn’t be the only one who felt that? Surely Tsukishima could feel that too?
If he had felt it, Tsukishima said nothing.
The morning after the kitchen incident, as Kuroo personally referred to it, Tsukishima had simply flashed Kuroo his usual smile as they gathered to eat breakfast, and started reading the news out to him as he always did, something Kuroo found incredibly endearing.
Then Tsukishima had headed off for work, and Kuroo had been left to get ready himself, in something of a daze as he pulled clothes out of his wardrobe without even really noticing. It had taken until lunchtime that day for him to notice that the bright red tie he was wearing clashed horribly with the blue shade of his shirt.
His mind stayed spinning for weeks after that, as he tried to reconcile his thoughts and work out a feasible approach.
The first option was, of course, to say nothing. Tsukishima was only going to be here for another three months, he’d made it halfway already. After that, they’d go back to how they’d always been, catch-ups once a month when they could, and Kuroo would have the downtime he usually did to mull over his situation and once again attempt to move on from Tsukishima, something he’d been trying to do in vain for too long now.
And it wasn’t as though he was hurting.
As much as it sucked to know his feelings were not requited, Kuroo harboured no resentment or ill-feeling on the matter. He got to spend every single day with Tsukishima after all - how could he be anything but over the moon?
Telling him risked jeopardising one of the best relationships Kuroo was ever going to find, and the possibility of cutting short their Tokyo roommate adventure was too much of a risk in his eyes.
Which meant that perhaps the second option wasn’t an option at all. To confess everything to Tsukishima and let the chips fall where they may. The best case scenario being Kuroo’s relief at finally sharing his feelings, and Tsukishima kindly and politely rejecting him, in the way Kuroo had envisioned a thousand times over. Worst case being Tsukishima moving out of the apartment and them going their separate ways for good.
Between the two, there was only really one option, and so Kuroo forced the kitchen incident to the back of his mind for as long as he could, until something brought everything flooding back.
That something was a phone call, of all things, and not even an actual phone call, but the promise of a phone call, and it wasn’t even his phone.
It was Tsukishima’s.
The Saturday had started out like any other. They would both sleep in a little later than usual, and then Kuroo would stumble into the kitchen still half-asleep while Tsukishima plated up the most incredible spread of rice, pickles and grilled fish, and various other treats, the same way he’d done for the past however many months it had been now.
“You know, if this museum thing goes sideways,” Kuroo had said over a mouthful of food, “I might be able to hire you as my personal chef.”
Tsukishima had fixed him with a look. “Could you at least swallow before making me a job offer as your servant?”
“I’m trying to compliment you!” Kuroo protested, rice spraying over the table.
He’d laughed, because what else could he do, especially when Tsukishima looked so incredibly annoyed at him, and eventually Tsukishima had relented and started laughing too, until they were both doubled over. Kuroo thought that if this was the happiest he’d ever feel in life, he’d have done okay.
The sound of Tsukishima’s work phone pinging quickly turned the mood sombre. He dashed out of the room and re-appeared a second later, running his hands through his hair, face pinched with stress.
“What is it?” Kuroo asked, breakfast and laughter immediately forgotten in the face of Tsukishima’s concern. “Something wrong?”
“My boss wants to call me in five minutes. Says he has news."
“Did he say what news?”
“Clearly not, or my face wouldn’t look like this,” Tsukishima snapped, and then immediately looked guilty. “Sorry, you didn’t deserve that.”
“No apology necessary,” Kuroo said gently, the matter already forgotten. “Whatever it is, I’ll be here, whatever you need.”
Tsukishima gave him a jerky head nod in acknowledgement, and then wandered out of the room, distracted and clearly worried.
Kuroo couldn’t blame him. In his chronically underfunded industry, the exhibition Tsukishima had spent several months working on had been hit by money woes in the past month, and the fate of the entire thing was currently resting with the museum’s board, something that had seen Tsukishima’s worry lines grow deeper in recent weeks, circles under his eyes darken.
Tsukishima’s phone ringing on a weekend had led them both to the same conclusion, Kuroo suspected, and it wasn’t a good one.
If this museum thing goes sideways... Kuroo’s words from just five minutes ago floated around his head, and he rolled his eyes at himself, and his incredible ability to always find the wrong thing to say.
Deciding that the call might take a while, and there was nothing he could do in the meantime, Kuroo started to clear the breakfast dishes, cold and ruined by now. As he started tossing things out and piling the plates up to be washed, he was met with the realisation that if this was it for Tsukishima, that the job was finished, he had no reason to stay in Tokyo anymore.
His life in Sendai had only been put on hold, after all; his job remained open, the Frogs would take him back, he had a life and family and friends just waiting for him to slot back into like nothing had changed at all.
Like nothing had changed at all.
Kuroo gripped the side of the sink, as the idea of Tsukishima leaving crashed into him like a tidal wave.
They’d originally thought that six months would go by in a flash, but in reality, even four of them had felt like forever, like the best kind of dream Kuroo didn’t want to wake up from. He’d easily gotten used to no longer being alone in the apartment, to have someone to watch movies with and go shopping with and share work-related stories and antics with.
He liked having someone else in the apartment, knowing Tsukishima was sleeping next door at night, or that he could stroll into the kitchen at any given moment and find something tasty waiting for him, or that there was always someone ready and willing to talk to or laugh with or confide in.
Kuroo had made of the most of Tsukishima being here because it was the only way he could think of to make their six months together count, but now, faced with the prospect of being alone in Tokyo again, Kuroo started to think that maybe he’d taken the wrong approach, that maybe he shouldn’t have let himself get so attached to this way of living.
Maybe he should have never made the offer in the first place, because every new beginning eventually comes to an end, and Kuroo wasn’t sure how to deal with that.
The door to the kitchen opened again, and Kuroo whirled round, trying to glean anything from Tsukishima’s usual inscrutable expression.
“Well?” he asked breathlessly.
“I-“
In hindsight, Kuroo should have probably let Tsukishima get more than a single word out before he started talking at him, but it felt like everything was crumbling around him, and that suddenly, his last chance to confess was upon him, and for once... for once he decided to take it.
“You can’t go!” Kuroo interjected, his voice desperate and cracking. “You can’t go.”
“What?”
Tsukishima blinked at him in surprise, and Kuroo hurried over, nearly slipping on the kitchen tiles in his haste to stand before him, nose to nose for the second time in as many months, each able to see the whirlwind in the other’s eyes.
“I don’t want you to leave Tokyo,” Kuroo breathed out. “These last few months have been the best months I’ve had in a long time, perhaps ever. I know you have a life in Sendai, but you have a life in Tokyo now too, in this apartment, with me, and I know you probably can’t just up and move here so quickly, but if you want to stay, even if it’s not all the time, I’ll do everything I can to help, because the idea of going back to just seeing you for a few days a month is-“
“Kuroo.”
“I’m sorry, Tsukki, I’m sorry to pile all of this on to you when you just got that news, but I had to tell you now before it was too late, and there was nothing more I could-“
“Kuroo.”
“-do, and I’ve been trying so hard to keep all of this inside, to not interfere with your life, but if this is it, if you’re leaving anyway, I may as well tell you what I’ve been trying to tell you all of these years-“
“Tetsuro!” Tsukishima finally cried out.
“-that I’m in love with you, Kei,” Kuroo finished at the exact same moment.
They stood there in silence, Kuroo breathless from the passion of his speech, Tsukishima reeling from all the events of the past ten minutes.
It felt like a lifetime had passed before Tsukishima finally spoke again.
“Oh.”
Kuroo blinked.
“Oh?” he croaked out.
Oh was not the reaction he’d been hoping for.
“Well- hmm, I- well I’m just a little shocked. I didn’t realise,” Tsukishima said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
“You didn’t?” Kuroo asked, and now it was his turn to be surprised. Sure, he hadn’t confessed until now, but he felt like it had hardly been a well-kept secret for the last ten years.
“No, not really... or I probably would’ve told you a lot sooner than I’m in love with you too.”
Kuroo wasn’t sure why every dramatic encounter between the two of them took place in his kitchen, but here they were once again, only this time they weren’t quietly sneaking around in the dark, but illuminated by the morning sun that streamed in through the windows, creating a haze around the two of them that felt less like electricity this time, and more like a dream.
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
Tsukishima echoed Kuroo’s response with a playful tease, and Kuroo found his face stretching into the widest grin he could possibly muster.
“You’re in love with me?” he asked, starting to feel giddy.
“I thought it was obvious,” said Tsukishima, smiling shyly back at him, and Kuroo pulled a face, because what the hell subtle looked like for Tsukishima, he didn’t know. “That’s why I applied for this job in the first place.
Kuroo barked out a laugh. “What?”
“Well you didn’t exactly make it obvious either,” Tsukishima countered defensively.
“I asked you to move in with me!”
“I thought that was a favour for a friend!”
“You’ve had a closet full of clothes in my apartment for five years now!”
“That’s what friends do!”
“No it isn’t!”
“Oh.”
Kuroo rolled his eyes as Tsukishima once again breathed out a soft noise of realisation, and then trained them on Tsukishima, coming back down to earth with a bump once he spotted the phone still clutched in Tsukishima’s hand.
“So what do we do now?”
“Well-“
And Kuroo should have learnt his lesson five minutes ago, but he was nothing if not obstinate.
“I could probably do long distance for a while, but I don’t think I could do it forever, Kei. And I don’t know if the solution is that I go back with you or you stay here, or we try and do half and half, but everything I said before still stands, a million times over now that I know we’re in this together. I love this city, and I love you, and I want to figure out how we do-“
“I know I just said that I love you too,” Tsukishima interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t absolutely detest you most of the time as well.”
Kuroo fell silent, mouth still open, and Tsukishima shook his head.
“If you’d let me have even a second when I came back in,” he began, glaring at Kuroo, who had the decency to look a little sheepish, “then I would have had time to ask you if you minded me staying in Tokyo a little bit longer after all.”
“How long?” Kuroo asked, barely breathing.
Tsukishima paused. “Indefinitely?”
Unable to contain himself any longer, Kuroo leapt forward and swept Tsukishima up in his arms, lifting him off the floor, which was an incredible feat given his stature. Tsukishima protested, loudly and vociferously, as Kuroo spun him around, although when his feet were finally allowed to touch the floor again, he was smiling just as broadly as Kuroo.
“Never do that again,” Tsukishima said, but there was very little weight behind his words.
“So they offered you a job?” Kuroo confirmed.
“Full-time. Permanent.”
Kuroo whistled. “So proud of you. So happy for you.”
“Don’t go soft already.”
“How can I not go soft? All my dreams just came true.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Ah, Tsukki, we’ve been dating for five minutes and you’re already wounding me.”
“I think you’ll find we haven’t decided on anything official.”
“Let me be romantic for a moment.”
“I’d rather you weren’t.”
“Can I kiss you at least?”
Tsukishima sighed. “I suppose so.”
Kuroo had only been half-joking when he’d said all his dreams had come true. Kissing Tsukishima was something he’d never let himself think about awake, even in his weakest moments, but he couldn’t control his heartache in his sleep. Every so often he’d wake up, lost and sad, savouring the fleeting moment in which it had felt real before reality had set in.
As they hesitantly, nervously, slowly embraced in Kuroo’s kitchen that day, it became wildly apparent that even his most vivid of dreams had done Tsukishima nowhere near the justice he deserved. It wasn’t too huge a leap to assume that Tsukishima’s love would be akin to his friendship, quiet and reserved in its nature, with moments of meaning that anyone else might have missed.
Kuroo was surprised then at the control Tsukishima exerted as they kissed. He was still subtle in his actions, but there was a force behind them that he hadn’t expected, in the way Tsukishima was the one to press against him a little harder, wrapping one arm around Kuroo’s waist to pull him a little closer.
When they finally pulled apart, Kuroo felt like his knees were going to give way, something that Tsukishima didn’t miss if his smirk was anything to go by.
“So is that a yes?” Tsukishima asked calmly, as though he were enquiring about the weather.
“To what?” asked Kuroo, still catching his breath.
“To me staying in Tokyo a little longer.”
Kuroo rolled his eyes, and then he pulled Tsukishima closer this time, enjoying the yelp of surprise he gave.
“Only if longer means forever.”
“Do you miss volleyball?”
Sundays were Tsukishima’s favourite. It was rare that either of them had to work, and so they stayed in bed for a long while, slowly re-joining the world and basking in each other’s company, enjoying the feel of being in one another’s arms, legs tangled together.
This morning was no different; Tsukishima had smiled lazily as he came to, feeling the sun streaming in through the blinds as people chattered in the street below. He’d reached an arm out and sighed happily as he made contact with another body, rolling over to find Kuroo already awake, gazing at him.
Usually their first words to one another were scratchy, murmured greetings, but Kuroo’s question today caught Tsukishima off guard.
“Huh?” Tsukishima had asked intelligently, squinting at Kuroo as he tried to gauge what his expression was, figure out what had prompted the question.
Kuroo had kindly reached over him to grab his glasses from the bedside table, which Tsukishima took gratefully as he shuffled up in the bed into a semi-upright position, leaning back against Kuroo’s chest.
“I was wondering if you missed volleyball. You’ll be thirty soon, and you always said that was when you wanted to retire, but you cut it short to move to Tokyo.”
Tsukishima nudged his glasses with his hand as he pressed his fingers into his eyes, trying to wake up and get his brain going, since it still felt fuzzy, and it seemed like Kuroo wanted a serious conversation.
They would have to talk about this, set some guidelines on when appropriate times for serious conversations were. Sunday mornings would not be making the list.
“You’re scared I regret moving here?” Tsukishima offered, trying to figure out what Kuroo was actually asking.
He felt Kuroo shrug, and Tsukishima leaned his head back so he could actually see him.
A key part of his love for Sundays was that Kuroo looked as he did now; hair mussed up, eyes still half lidded, looking down at Tsukishima as though he were the whole world. It was almost criminal. Tsukishima frequently had to pinch himself that he was the one lucky enough to know this side of him, to be allowed to witness Kuroo at his most vulnerable, with the only thing he had to offer his own vulnerability in return.
“The only regret I’ll ever have is not telling you sooner how much I love you,” Tsukishima said earnestly, reaching a hand back to brush against Kuroo’s cheek.
Being upside-down skewed his perception a little, and the brush turned into more of a thump, which was enough to finally soften Kuroo’s worried expression into a smile.
“Of course I miss volleyball,” he answered honestly, as Kuroo caught his hand and began stroking his thumb against it, “but I’d miss it whenever I retired. You, Tokyo, my job; none of those things cut anything short. I made the decision to take this next step in my life.”
Kuroo was quiet for a while. “So you don’t feel like you sacrificed anything to come here?”
“Maybe my sanity,” Tsukishima suggested, and Kuroo flicked the back of his head in retort.
He laughed, and then pushed himself off Kuroo to sit up properly next to him, cupping Kuroo’s cheek in his palm.
“I love you,” Tsukishima said softly, words that never grew old for him, and that he hoped would convince Kuroo to shake off the morning’s doubts.
What he’d said was true - he did miss volleyball, more than he’d expected to, the same way he missed his family and friends back in Sendai. Moving to Tokyo had never felt like he’d had to make a choice between the two though; it was simply the next stage of a journey he’d been hoping to make for years, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.
“I love you too,” Kuroo replied, almost instantly, never letting Tsukishima forget that his feelings were returned tenfold.
Because it turned out home wasn’t Sendai or Tokyo, nor was it anywhere else in the world.
Home was Kuroo, and he’d finally found his way there.