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Tsukki has a really bad itch.
It sounds silly, he knows, but it doesn't do anything to help him ignore the small feather tickling the bottom of his chin.
He grits his teeth, trying not to make it obvious, because the last thing he needs is to give the most recent American asshole the satisfaction of making him move. These kinds of tourists come all of the time- but usually, they get bored after a few minutes and leave him alone, maybe even lingering long enough to toss a few coins beside him. (You'd think they'd start to figure out that he wouldn't unless money was involved. But hey, they always seemed eager enough to try, and he was always ready to disappoint.)
Still, it's already been twenty minutes, probably even more, and the newest tourist seems even more fired up at the 'challenge' than anything else.
Tsukki almost grins at the thought, because it's literally his job not to move, and the stranger doesn't seem to realize what he's gotten himself into.
Actually, it's his side job not to.
But no, it's not really a job, either. His side hobby? Definitely not. Side annoyance? More accurate, but less catchy. Besides, it's not too much of an annoyance when it helps to give him some extra cash, even if it's not much. Plus, he usually doesn't move around much on his own time, so it's not like he's going out of his way to work like this.
"He-ey." Tsukki glances at the tourist from the corner of his eye, watching as the stranger proceeds to grin and launch a string of questions and what seems like cheesy pick-up lines. For a moment, Tsukki's confused as to why the foreign words sound so off, but then the tourist pauses to take a breath, and when he starts talking again, Tsukki recognizes the Japanese. Of course.
It's honestly a shame, because the tourist really is attractive, with messy dark hair that manages to stick out in all 360 degrees despite the warm weather. So physically, he's pretty attractive. Impossible to understand, yeah, but attractive nonetheless.
But the most attractive people usually have the ugliest personalities, right?
(Prime example: himself. Who says you can't be cocky and self-deprecating at the same time?)
When it's clear that the stranger with the strange hair isn't planning on shutting up any time soon, he manages to discreetly glance around the street. It's late in the afternoon, during that awkward time when no one's really outside since it's too late for any afternoon activities, and too early for anything meant for the evening.
The only people outside right now are himself and the Japanese tourist, so he pointedly stares at a store not too far down the street, hoping the tourist will notice.
He does.
As soon as he glances around, Tsukki darts behind a food truck, muffling a snicker behind his hand when he hears the tourist make an exclamation of surprise.
"Chotto matte!" the stranger yells, and Tsukki almost heads back just to tell him to shut up. He glances over the side of the truck to watch the tourist pout, disappointment painted across his face. When the tourist doesn't move, he sighs and crawls over to one of the nearby stores, making his way between a few of the older buildings in the area. After spending the day completely stationary and tortured by an annoying tourist, all he wants is to go home.
He's thinking about what he'll have for dinner - he has some leftovers from when Yamaguchi came over, but he's pretty sure he has a few coupons lying around that might expire soon - when the tourist starts yelling again.
"Ore no namae wa Kuroo!" The tourist yells, then pauses, and then, "Mi chiamo Kuroo!" And then proceeds to grin and walk off into the fucking sunset. Which, god, really? Was that necessary?
Tsukki heads home, but he can't think about anything other than the tourist - Kuroo - the whole time. Which is stupid. Kuroo is stupid. It's a stupid name and he has a stupid face and they're never going to see each other again, and it's all incredibly stupid.
For some reason, that thought really bothers him, so he distracts himself by memorizing the way Kuroo had grinned as he spoke, all confident and easygoing like he knew how good he looked when he smiled. Which was probably true, now that he thought about it. (Kuroo seemed like that kind of guy, anyways.)
He convinces himself he doesn't fall asleep thinking about Kuroo, because it's definitely not like him to bother himself with anything temporary.
--
Okay, so fine. He was wrong.
Tsukki sighs, the quietest exhale of breath that he can muster while Kuroo slings an arm around his shoulders.
"So, genkidesuka?" Tsukki blinks at Kuroo, because it should be obvious that he has no idea what he's saying. Kuroo sighs, fixing him with a lopsided grin as he sits across from him.
Tsukki wants to say that he didn't relax in his spot when Kuroo walked over, all wide smiles and loud, undecipherable words. But he did, and he's pretty sure Kuroo noticed, too.
"Come stai?" Kuroo asks, blinking up at him innocently, like this is normal.
Tsukki desperately wants to admit "Stanco", but he knows he shouldn't. Mostly for obvious reasons like the preservation of his pride, and because Kuroo asked how he was doing. Informally. Kuroo didn't even know his name, and even if he did, they had still only known each other for a day, and that wasn't exactly the best grounds for randomly asking informal, friendly questions.
Kuroo seems to realize that Tsukki doesn't plan on answering him any time soon, so he starts talking in bits of broken Italian, occasionally adding in comments that sound like a mix of Japanese and English, and if that isn't the weirdest and most attractive thing Tsukki's ever heard, he doesn't know what is.
From what Tsukki understands, Kuroo is on vacation. He's 22 years old studying at a local university in Tokyo, and he used to study Italian and English in high school (mostly because the other electives seemed like too much work). Apparently, Kuroo only came to Italy because his friend was supposed to come with him (for the food, of course), but something happened and now he's alone and bored. Which, Tsukki supposes, explains the whole bothering-innocent-street-performers-for-absolutely-no-reason thing.
And then Kuroo starts telling stories, like how he had once made the mistake of trying to set his friend up (the same one who had wanted to come to Italy) and didn't realize it when the friend had put an alley cat in his place. It actually sounds somewhat amusing, from what Tsukki gathers, but Kuroo's voice makes just about everything sound amusing, so.
He doesn't realize it's late until Kuroo says so, standing to dust himself off. Tsukki almost asks him to stay, or to at least keep talking because his voice sounds amazing, but he forces himself to stay silent and watch as Kuroo moves around.
"Qui." Kuroo reaches into his pocket and brings out a handful of coins, fisting it and hovering over Tsukki's own. His eyes glint mischievously, and then he's moving closer, close close close too close and then gone. Kuroo watches him carefully, quietly searching for something that Tsukki isn't sure if he has and he can't ask what Kuroo's looking for, because he can't talk, can't move; he's not supposed to, no exceptions.
And Kuroo laughs breathlessly, moving further back to stand at too far too far arms distance. His laugh is a small, empty sound that sounds too sad to be considered a laugh, and he forces a grin. He leans down, placing the coins on the street by Tsukki, nodding slightly. "Cosi. Non fai nulla? Quando le persone avvicinano a te, tu consentirgli?" Something that looks suspiciously like jealousy flashes in Kuroo's eyes. "Comunque, arrivederci."
Tsukki watches Kuroo leave with something like anger boiling in him, and it's unfamiliar after a lifetime spent simply not caring. It's not like anyone does anything that bad to him; maybe just a few inappropriate touches or a too-close hug, but that's it. But Kuroo makes it sound like he just stands there and lets people crawl all over him like some sort of tree, and no, he doesn't.
... Stupid Kuroo.
It's the second time Tsukki's left behind as Kuroo walks off into the sunset, and it's starting to get annoying.
--
Tsukki decidedly does not wait for Kuroo the next day.
Kuroo's an asshole anyways, he decides. He didn't even know much about Tsukki, still doesn't, but he still went around assuming how he spent his days. Fucking ridiculous, that's what it was. He reminds himself how much of an idiot Kuroo is every hour or so when he fails to spot him.
He glances around the area, still desperately looking for any sign of the stranger but failing miserably. He tells himself that he's probably just not looking in the right place, and maybe Kuroo's in one of the nearby shops right now, waiting to apologize, but it's all a lie. Kuroo's too tall for him not to notice and too stubborn to come and apologize.
He's reaching for his hat when he spots a small bundle of coins placed not too far behind him, stacked on top of a partly-crumpled piece of paper. He picks it up and tries and fails not to get his hopes up.
Tsukki almost laughs as he reads Kuroo's words, the hurried apology (mostly for yesterday, but also for the coffee stains on the paper) and random comments on what he'd ordered for dinner, and he imagines Kuroo talking to him instead of admitting it through a note.
He stuffs the coins and the note into his pocket and smiles all the way home.
--
Tsukki isn't sure when Kuroo stopped trying to get a reaction out of him, but he supposes it was probably a while ago, and he just never noticed.
It's been two weeks since they first met, and he knows he'd be lying if he said he didn't look forward to seeing Kuroo. Part of him was tempted to stay indoors for most of the day, only to come out when Kuroo came. Kuroo's the only reason he stays out there anymore, anyways. But he knows Kuroo's bound to leave eventually, bound to return to Japan or maybe even America, or basically just anywhere that isn't with Tsukki. Plus, he's not going to give Kuroo the satisfaction of knowing how important he is to Tsukki.
So he pretends he doesn't care about Kuroo, because it's easier than admitting he's in love with someone who doesn't even know his name, and for the most part, it works.
Still, they've adopted this weird friendship over the past couple of weeks. There's something comforting in the way that Kuroo talks, something that makes it feel like they've known each other for years, and it's too comfortable for him to question.
Today, though, Kuroo's anxious, and so are his words. His sentences are shorter, clipped, and he doesn't poke fun at the people around them, doesn't make up silly stories about where they came from or where they're going. He just talks about the weather, makes random comments on sports, and Tsukki suddenly understands what it means to talk a lot and say nothing. It's making him nervous, being forced to stand still and watch as Kuroo dances around something that Tsukki can't even see.
"Um." Kuroo says, bowing his head, and Tsukki narrows his eyes, because he almost sounds nervous. "Sto partendo. Domani." Kuroo admits, and oh.
Oh.
He tries to process the words, he can't he can't he can't and he almost does something stupid, almost takes the three steps he needs to reach Kuroo, almost hugs him and kisses him and does too many stupid, stupid things, but he doesn't. He doesn't, not yet, not yet not yet not yet no.
Tsukki realizes then that it's not stupid what he wants to do, it's stupid that he wants to do it at all.
They're still strangers to each other, no matter how much Kuroo talks to him, or how much Tsukki wants to talk back.
Tsukki wants to nod, to say yes, yes yes yes, of course he understands, no matter how much he doesn't want to, but Kuroo's still just an annoying tourist trying to get a reaction out of him, just a stranger and just a pesk, just steady and intelligent and cocky and perfect and Kuroo. He ignores the way his heart screams at him to 'stop, talk to him, don't let him leave, ' and holds his breath.
Kuroo just smiles at him like he never really expected an answer in the first place and stands up. He doesn't even bother to dust himself off, just stretches for a moment while his free hand takes out a handful of coins and drops it into Tsukki's own. It's the first time he doesn't just toss them on the ground, and Tsukki hates himself for memorizing the feeling of Kuroo's hand on his as he does so.
"Do I at least get a goodbye?" Kuroo asks, and even though it's in English, Tsukki understands it completely.
He grits his teeth, because no. No, he doesn't get a goodbye, because if Tsukki opens his mouth, he won't be able to stop talking, won't be able to hold back the barrage of 'please don't go 's and 'don't leave me 's and 'I'll miss you 's and 'I think I love you 's, and it's so pathetic that he wants to scream.
Kuroo doesn't wait long for a response, just sighs and nods like he should have figured he wouldn't get anything, and that makes Tsukki even more frustrated.
"Cosi, arrivederci." Kuroo announces, and then he's giving Tsukki another fake grin, and no no no no no.
But Kuroo is as oblivious as ever, turning on his heel and walking away like it isn't the last time they'll see each other, like he isn't tearing Tsukki apart with each step he takes. Like Tsukki doesn't care, doesn't love him, and that's a problem that ignoring won't fix.
Kuroo's walking into the sunset for the last time, and Tsukki thinks 'fuck it ' and runs after him.