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2:15 am
The clock on Tsukishima’s wall hasn't stopped ticking since the day he hung it up. He’s been staring at it for minutes, hours, weeks- fuck if he knows. He can’t see it in the dark, so he imagines what it’s like, the smooth, dark wood, the fading gold of the pendulum. He thinks up all the times he’s looked into that very clock’s glass, until he realizes he doesn't remember a single thing besides the colors. He had better things to do than memorize each nook and cranny of the wood. He had Kuroo to deal with and college.
Not anymore, though. He wishes he would've taken the time to get to know the clock better.
The ticking of the grandfather clock works as what he’s taken to comparing to an anchor. The sound is always there, constantly clicking away even as Tsukishima loses track of it behind his thoughts. He focuses on it once he starts to lose himself. It’s there, always. The stability is good, and yet a painful reminder.
If only Kuroo were as constant of a presence as the ticking of that clock.
“Tsukki! We should go on a date!” Kuroo yelled, sweaty and out of breath after a match. There was something enticing about the way the drops slid down his neck, though Tsukishima would never admit to having such thoughts.
“You ask me every week. The answer is still no.” Tsukishima scoffs in remark. He’s still an asshole, after all. “And stop calling me Tsukki.”
“Okay, Tsukki.” Kuroo responds. “But I know you like me, you just won’t admit it yet. I’ll get you to say it eventually.”
“Not gonna happen.”
There’s something to say about the pain of losing the person you thought would always be there, was always there. And yet there’s also not a whole lot, except that it hurts like fuck and it’s nothing like anyone says it is. Most compare it to the feeling of dying, but that’s not what he feels at all. No, in fact, he’d rather die than feel the way he does- like he’s drowning but his lungs won’t stop trying to take in air, so he’s forced to cough it up over and over again until it kills him but it doesn't. He’s not dying and the pain won’t go away and he just want’s it to stop.
He doesn’t think it ever will at this point.
“You have really pretty eyes, Tsukki. So warm.”
“You’re annoying. I’m trying to study.” Tsukishima grits, kicking Kuroo’s arms off of his legs near where the boy perched beside his bed.
“Why did you invite me over then, if you’re so grumpy,” Kuroo pouts.
“You literally showed up at my house uninvited, I don’t even know how you got my address.”
“Oh, yeah. Tell your freckled friend I said thanks, also sorry.”
“You’re an asshole, Kuroo.” Tsukishima grunts.
“It was for you. Also, you like me. Wouldn’t be dating me if you didn’t.”
“I’m going to glue your mouth shut.”
Tsukishima doesn’t realize he’s crying until the wet patch on his pillow is big enough to feel against his cheek. God, it’s pathetic.
3:57 am
He fell asleep for what felt like only minutes and woke up crying again. He didn’t dream of Kuroo, he never does. But the pain is still there, festering in his wound like maggots that are too slimy and deep to pull out. The only way is to drown them out, but even then they don’t all vacate themselves.
“You could tear my heart out,” he thinks, pleas. “It would certainly hurt less than this.”
“You should move in with me, Kei. After you graduate.” Kuroo says, casually.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Totally.”
“Okay.”
“Kuroo,” Tsukishima gasps, letting out a breath that shakes his entire frame, leaves him clawing at his sheets. He needs air. He can’t breathe, it hurts so much and he's going to break. Not even the ticking of that clock can drown out the sound of his sobs, pathetic and ugly just like him because god, how could he have screwed up so badly?
“You’re always so critical, Tsukki. And you hardly smile.”
“I don’t have a reason to, I guess.” he responds, flipping a page in his book.
“That’s dark.” Kuroo mumbles.
Tsukishima shrugs.
4:10 am
Tsukishima blinks through the moisture in his eyes at the bright phone screen in his hand, sighing shakily at the lack of new messages. He has a lot of missed calls and messages, but none of the matter because none of them are from Kuroo.
He unlocks his phone and scrolls through his contacts, finding the one labeled “Tetsuro” and hesitating a thumb over it. He could do it, he could call him. But it wouldn’t make a difference. Kuroo probably isn’t even awake, and there's no way he would want to talk to his least favorite person if he was.
Tsukishima changes the contact name to “Kuroo” and throws his phone on the floor.
“You used to call me Kei.”
“I still do.”
“It doesn’t sound the same. You sound like you hate the way it rolls off your tongue.”
“You’re over-thinking things, Tsukki.”
"Maybe."
4:30 am
Thinking back on it, he should have seen it coming. Maybe if he knew, he would’ve been able to prepare himself more. Maybe the fire in his chest wouldn’t be threatening to singe his bones as well. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to move on and kindle the flames to forge a new shield, one strong enough to fight off the army raging war against his heart. But he didn’t see it coming. He wasn't prepared for this in the least bit.
“I’m sorry, Kei.” Kuroo gasped out.
“What does that mean?” Tsukishima grit, eyeing the suitcase in Kuroo’s hand disbelievingly.
“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.” Kuroo says. Tsukishima feels like someone has stabbed him in the chest.
“Are you kidding me? What- You can’t just leave me like this.”
“I don’t think you really have the right to say that,” Kuroo growls, the shift in tone sudden and shocking. Tsukishima freezes.
“What?”
“Oh come on, don’t act like you actually give a shit about me now.” Kuroo spits, glaring.
“What the fuck are you talking-”
“You act like you hate me, Tsukishima.” The sound of his family name burns his ears. Kuroo pauses, breathes, and then, “I know you have a problem with emotions and shit, okay, and I thought I would be fine, we all have our issues, etc, but how the fuck do you expect me to devote myself to you when you've never even told me you loved me? We’ve been together for years. Is it too much to ask that for once you act like you give a shit about anyone but yourself?!”
Kuroo is halfway out the door by the time Tsukishima stops feeling like his chest is going to collapse.
“Wait!” He yells, begs, “Can we just talk about this for a minute? Please?”
“I don’t- it’s not something to discuss. You’re not going to change, and I don’t mean to make this your fault but I can’t deal with that. I just need to go. I’ll get my stuff some other day. I’m sorry.”
“I can’t believe you.” Tsukishima chokes.
“Goodbye, Kei.”
It was all his fault. Kuroo left because Tsukishima never really learned how to say what he felt, and he didn’t blame him.
Tadashi had told him that it would get better, but Tsukishima knew that plants only grew with proper watering and sunlight and he also knew that his heart was as dark and barren as they came. It had always been like that, but Kuroo took what little life was left in Tsukishima’s chest with him when he walked out that door. There’s no way he can get over what happened now.
Kuroo broke him, and he deserved every bit of it.
He’s pathetic and Kuroo's gone and there is absolutely nothing Tsukishima can do or say that will get him to return. His heart will forever remain iced over, pumping at a glacial pace until the day it stops.
“At least,” he thinks, “At least it was you, and not someone else. Only you could break me.”