Archive of Our Own

Tadashi Yamaguchi’s name leaves a sour taste in Kei Tsukishima’s mouth.

Kei had become well aware at a very young age of life’s tendency to make abrupt changes, constantly rearranging the people in his life without warning or hesitation. This lesson was first learned when his grandmother passed away shortly after his seventh birthday. It hadn’t affected him too terribly; he hadn’t really understood the concept of death quite yet, only really gathering that his grandmother wouldn’t be standing in the doorway waiting for him when he got home from school anymore. But still, her absence was unpleasant, hurtful to him, and he was aware that he didn’t want to feel that way again if he could help it.

He’d learned this lesson a second time when he had discovered his brother’s lie about the volleyball team. It didn’t seem like a big deal to most people–his older brother had just lied to feel a bit cooler, really. And logically, Kei was well aware that his brother’s lie had nothing to do with himself. But still, it had been detrimental to his views on trust—on dependency.

Why should he ever depend on anybody else for anything? For them to be there, to listen, to be honest? All that had done was disappoint him. He’d made a conscious decision to give up on such a ridiculous concept. Why did he need to feel close to anyone again if he already knew how it would turn out?

Tadashi Yamaguchi’s name leaves a sour taste in Kei Tsukishima’s mouth.

Even after being so thoroughly humiliated by being caught in his brother’s lie shortly after their first meeting, Tadashi stuck by his side. Despite his cruel jokes that used to bring tears to his friend’s brown eyes (which, he always felt the need to emphasize when Tadashi brought it up, he always made sure to apologize for) and his less than warm personality, the two boys had become inseparable.

Kei had fought the attachment tooth and nail, but it was pointless. Wherever he went, Tadashi followed. Whatever he said, Tadashi doubled down. Whatever he did, Tadashi joined in. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Kei had grown to enjoy his presence, and found himself disappointed when he wasn’t around. Life had evolved into being the two of them against the world, and if he was being honest, Kei had grown to prefer it that way.

Tadashi Yamaguchi’s name leaves a sour taste in Kei Tsukishima’s mouth.

“Are you going to see him?”

Complete silence follows Kyoutani’s question, and it becomes obvious soon that his teammate has no intention of answering.

It had been a long day for Kei, between an unusually stressful series of field trips to lead and dealing with a broken projector in the planetarium at the museum. Practice had run a bit late, too, so now he was going to have to rush to catch the correct bus home. And, to top off his list of minor inconveniences—which, when compiled, were really starting to ruin the whole day in his mind—a certain singer was giving a concert tomorrow night. And for some reason, everyone who knew Kei was expecting him to attend the show.

It seemed like every person in a 10 mile radius was a massive fan of Tadashi Yamaguchi, and every single one of them was well aware that the star was back home. It had been the main topic of discussion all day, and if Kei had one more person so much as mumble the name of his childhood…friend, he was going to scream.

Or collapse.

….or both.

An annoyed sigh knocks the blonde out of his own thoughts, and he turns to face his teammate.
“Even I know how tight the two of you were back then. Y’know, I don’t even get what happened between—.”

“Nothing,” Kei snaps, fully aware that his answer is far too defensive and comes far too quickly. “We just grew apart. No big deal. End of discussion.”

Kyoutani rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” He stands, fed up with his teammate’s defensiveness. “Forget I even asked. I’ve gotta go, my next bus home won’t be for another hour if I miss this one.”

“Ah, same for me. I’ll head out with you.”

Kei hoists his gym bag over his shoulder, and the two of them step out of the locker room and onto the street, a thick silence settled between them.

“You should go see the show.”

An irritated side-eye.

“And why would I do that? I don’t even like pop music that much.”

“God,” Kyoutani chuckles, shaking his head, “you are so hopeless. I know he sent passes to the museum for you. He wants to see you there.”

Kei freezes. “How would you know about that?”

His teammate smirks. “You’re very Google searchable. And besides, I didn’t feel right giving him your home address outright.”

Kei can feel his face heat as Kyoutani’s words sink in.
“You helped orchestrate that ridiculous delivery? God…I’ll send the staff an email right now about accepting things mailed to individual employees at the museum’s address. You know, that’s against museum protocol in every way. That isn’t even really allowed. You could have gotten me into so….much….”

Kei trails off as he realizes the pocket of his slacks is empty. His phone is altogether absent.

He sighs as he unzips his gym bag, vexed that he’ll have to dig past bundles of his sweaty clothes in order to find the device. He reluctantly crouches to the ground and begins his search, trying hard to ignore Kyoutani’s concerned gaze as he once again comes up empty handed. How could he have forgotten to do his mental checklist earlier? Phone, keys, wallet, watch…

His watch, right. It was the whole reason his mother had even purchased the accessory for him as a Christmas present—it came with a feature that allowed him to locate his phone easily. And soon, with the click of a button, Kei had his phone’s location…

…several miles away. At the museum.

“Shit.”

“What? Have you had an epiphany?”

“Shut up. I left my phone behind at work. I’ll have to go back to get it, now.”

“Too bad. Do you want me to go with you?”

Kei considers it: if Kentarou goes with him, they’ll cover more ground, and he’ll probably be able to find his phone rather quickly. At the same time, though, the shortened search probably wouldn’t be worth the nagging he’d definitely have to listen to the entire time, likely including the duration of the walk there.

He shakes his head.
“No, I’ll be fine. Are we still doing that team lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll have cap’ send a reminder in the group chat—which you should honestly check from time to time. Even I text in there more than you do.”

Kei rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

The two part with one last knowing look from Kyoutani, and Kei walks as quickly as he can in the direction of the familiar museum.

The janitor is just about to lock the front door when Kei jogs up the museum’s front steps, his cheeks flushed as he waves his hands wildly to catch the older man’s attention.

“Oh,” he starts, a gentle smile on his face, “hello, Tsukishima. What brings you back here?”

“Forgive me. I think I’ve left my cell phone in my office—I won’t be able to go the whole weekend without it. Ah…you can go home. I can lock up here once I find it.”

The man smiles, bowing slightly in thanks.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Kei bows back respectfully before hurrying inside, quickly making his way across the lobby and up the stairs to his office. He holds his ID over the door scanner and waits for it to beep before pushing it open, his eyes immediately scanning the room. He begins his search on his desk, trying hard to pretend he doesn’t see the white envelope with his name on it in all-too-familiar handwriting. He plans to pretend he never received it in the first place—a lie he’ll tell himself until he can convince himself that it’s the truth.

He finds a pack of gum, a photo of his parents, and a file for the new exhibit that he’d sworn he’d already given to Makoto in the budgeting department—whoops—but the device doesn’t turn up, and the blonde runs his hands down his face in exasperation. Shit. Where else had he been today? Between the school tours and climbing ladders in the planetarium…

He snaps his fingers as the thought comes to him: the storage room. He’d checked a message that had come in from his coach when he was grabbing a spare lens for the projector. He’d probably left it there without thinking.

“How stupid,” he mutters as he makes his way across the hall, rolling his eyes as he holds his ID over the door’s scanner once again. Immediately, he steps over to the box of planetarium supplies, peering inside hopefully. Sure enough, his phone sits amongst the various expensive projector lenses—a potentially highly costly mistake on his part.

Kei grabs his phone, taking a quick second to check his notifications. He’s missed two calls from an unknown number, a notification from Doordash about a discount from his local liquor store, and a text from his mother asking whether he would be attending Tadashi’s show. He rolls his eyes, reminding himself to text her an excuse about not seeing the message until late tomorrow night, once he’s sure the concert in question is well underway.

As he pockets his phone, Kei suddenly becomes acutely aware of the sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway outside. He frowns—the janitor must have come for his keys. He hadn’t meant to keep him at the museum so late after-hours, especially knowing the extent of the messes he had likely had to clean that day. Immediately, he begins to apologize.

“Oh, you didn’t have to come in after me, sir. I could have left the keys…”

The words die before they can fall past his lips, and a sour taste spills over Kei’s tongue as he faces the wide-eyed culprit’s familiar face.

“Oh.”

Tadashi Yamaguchi—international pop sensation, former lover of language classes and soggy fries and tournament season and late night walks home and dinners at the Tsukishima residence and Sunday trips to the night market downtown and every other stupid little detail Kei had successfully blocked from his memory until his eyes met familiar grey ones—stands before him.

“Kei. Oh my God, I….it’s really good to see you!”
Tadashi smiles at him brightly, and it’s obvious that he desperately wants to hug his childhood friend. Upon catching sight of the blonde’s shaking hands, though, he reconsiders.

“Um…I came to make sure the tickets were delivered. I called you, but I got no answer. And then I saw you walking in, and I just…”

“Just what? Followed me in here? The museum is closed.”

Yamaguchi shrinks into himself upon hearing the bitter venom laced through every word, not expecting such a cold reception despite the brutal silence of the past several years.

“I…what are you doing here?”

The singer blinks.
“I just told you, I—“

“Stop it. What are you really doing here?”

One thing Kei has to acknowledge—whether he wants to or not—is how much Tadashi has changed. He seems to shine from the inside out, a healthy glow on his cheeks. His jewelry is just edgy enough that it makes him an untouchable kind of cool, but still conservative enough that nobody would ever question his character. He stands taller, his hands don’t fidget when he speaks, and his voice doesn’t shake anymore. Yes, this version of Tadashi Yamaguchi is a far cry from how he exists in Tsukki’s memory.

But when Kei presses him, irritation and displeasure dripping from his every word, he can see magic take place in front of his very eyes. The prince that stands so confidently before him is suddenly once again the frog he used to be, his shoulders hunching and cheeks reddening and hands wringing each other nervously in front of his chest. The transformation is quick, and if Kei is being honest, it’s so pitiful that he wishes he could kick himself for it without looking like a total freak. He almost wants to apologize for his harshness.

Almost.

“Well, I…” Tadashi trails off, his voice thick with obvious emotion as he ducks his head. “I…figured you weren’t going to come. I just wanted to see you. It’s been so long…”

Kei laughs, the usually jovial sound devoid of anything other than bitter sarcasm.
“Yeah, it has been. I wonder whose fault that could be.”

The singer’s head snaps up, and some of the fire he entered the room with has returned to his eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know perfectly well what it means, Yamaguchi.”

“You’re being ridiculous, there’s no need to be so formal. And no, I don’t know what it means.”

“Are you kidding me? Fine, yeah, let’s just pretend that’s true. Excuse me.”

Kei steps towards his childhood friend, trying hard not to notice the hurt that fills his eyes as he realizes the blonde is trying to exit.

“No—wait! You can’t go!”

“No? And who’s going to stop me?”

It all happens so fast that Kei can’t even process it.

Or, at least, that’s the excuse he gives himself. For what other reason would Yamaguchi, who is surely in good shape but definitely not matching Kei in strength (he never has, really), be able to pull a Division 2 volleyball player back into the room and slam the door behind them?
The man before him is clearly still processing what he’s just done, his back pressed against the wooden door of the storage room as dust swirls around him, settling against the dark fabric of his pants.

A thick silence fills the room as reality settles in, the slam of the storage room door still echoing in the museum’s vacant hallways.

“Yamaguchi, really? Are you insane?”

“I’m sorry!” Tadashi’s voice is high pitched as he speaks, and his sentences sound more like one long word. “I just really need to talk to you because I don’t get what happened with us and I need to know or else I can’t go onstage tomorrow!”

“And why wouldn’t you be able to go onstage? You’ve performed plenty of shows without ever talking to me over the years, so what could be different about this one?”

Tadashi’s lip is wobbling now, and Kei ignores the way the sight squeezes at his heart.

“Now excuse me. I have somewhere to be tonight.”

The singer steps aside, his head hanging in shame as he sniffles. It’s hard to miss the way he wraps his arms around himself, as if he desperately needs a hug from someone who just isn’t there to give him one.

Tsukishima places a hand on the doorknob—only for the metal to refuse to turn in his grip. He tries again.

And again.

…and again.

“Mother of…”
He drags a hand down his face as it dawns on him; the door locks automatically as soon as it shuts, which is why he had left it open behind him in the first place. The only way to unlock it was with a keycard…from the outside. Usually, employees weren’t meant to venture into the storage room completely alone, anyway—something about preventing theft. But Kei had figured that it would be such a quick grab for his phone that it didn’t matter if he just crept in this one time.

He sighs in exasperation. Perhaps he’s learned his lesson about bending the rules, however minorly.

“Well, we’re locked in.”

“What!?”

“We are locked the hell in here. The key card only opens the door from the outside, and since you shut the door, we’re stuck in here until I can get one of my coworkers to come back here and let us out.”

Tadashi’s eyes go wide, and Kei can’t help but think that the familiar expression looks uncomfortably foreign on the face of someone who now oozes a level of confidence that he never would have expected.

The singer sinks to the floor, unblinking as he wraps his arms around his knees and shakes his head.

“No…no…this was supposed to be a quick visit, I told my stage manager I’d be back in, like, half an hour. It’ll take twice that long for someone to actually get here, and still longer to get back to the venue…I’ll have to rush the meet and greets…or I’ll have to skip the pre-show soundcheck…we’ll have to speedrun rehearsal…and then my in-ears won’t work properly…the backtrack will drown me out…I’ll get booed off the stage…my career is over…”

Kei tries hard not to laugh. It's obvious Tadashi is in a state of panic, spiraling as he lists out the worst possible outcomes of what is, at most, an extremely minor setback to their respective schedules for the evening. He’s already texted a coworker, and received a response—he’ll be here within the next half hour. But still, part of him can’t help but find a perverse joy in watching the man before him, who was so carefully put together when they first met again after all these years, crumble back into the shadow of his former self.

Maybe some things really do never change, he thinks to himself, a wry smile curling his lips.

“What on Earth could be funny to you about this?”

He’s not expecting the irritated outburst from the shy, quiet Tadashi that he once knew. Oh no, it’s clear, Tadashi has really, truly changed…much to the blonde’s displeasure.

Kei frowns.
“I have to find joy in something. We can’t all be rich and famous and have problems like being late to meet our oh-so-adoring fans.”

Tadashi’s eyes flash as he gets to his feet, dusting himself off hastily before folding his arms over his chest.
“You’re right. Some of us have problems like being jealous and bitter because our friends found a bit of success in life. Now that’s a problem.”

It’s Kei’s turn to cross his arms over his chest.
“And what do you mean by that?”

Tadashi scoffs as he casts a glare that would stop the blonde’s heart cold if looks could kill.

“Nothing. I just think that maybe you’d be happier if you just admitted you were jealous of my achievements.”

Tsukishima stiffens, the back of his neck beginning to heat up as anger bubbles in his chest.

“Jealous? Of what—having to wear silly costumes while my ears ring for days from the sound of a bunch of people screaming at me for over an hour straight? You must be joking.”

The two of them are facing each other properly now, the air around them charged with tension so thick, they can hardly see each other. Tadashi flashes a saccharine smile as he speaks, his chipper tone offering a sharp contrast to his harsh words.

“It’s okay to be jealous, I mean it. You’re not where you wanted to be, but I am. And you can’t stand that, can you?”

Kei’s jaw ticks violently.
“I’m perfectly happy with my team and my job. Maybe you’re projecting your own unhappiness with your job onto me?”

“Yeah, right. You’re so unbelievable sometimes. I can’t believe I ever thought you would change.”

“I do apologize—we can’t all become snobby celebrities that are too good for our own friends overnight.”

Tadashi throws his head back as he laughs in response, the usually jovial sound devoid of any amusement.

“Oh, I’m the one who’s too good for my own friends? At least I didn’t spend the past four years standing them up every chance I got.”

“Standing them up? Elaborate on that—you’ve gotten so brave these past few years, I’d love to finally hear what you have to say for once.” The statement would be sweet coming from Kei if his voice hadn’t been dripping with sarcasm.

“For someone who took such pride in being so smart, you sure don’t seem to know anything at all these days.”

“You know what, Yamaguchi?”

“I don’t, Tsukishima, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Shut up.”

It’s simple. It’s childish, and they’re both well aware of it. A little part of Tadashi wants to dig into this immature crack in their exchange, to break it open and taunt Tsukki for his lack of any real response; what, can’t come up with a real rebuttal? But such an infantile phrase is so unexpected in the cruel exchange that it stuns the two of them into silence.

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes, turning away from his ex friend and sinking to the floor once again. He cooly checks his nails, picking at his cuticles once before sniffing indignantly and shifting his gaze to the dust that danced on the beams of fading sunlight cast through the window.

“Forget it. I don’t need your permission, anyway.”

Tsukki snorts, unlocking his phone once again so he can mindlessly scroll through his Twitter timeline.

Five long, silent minutes pass, and the blonde’s phone pings loudly with a new message from his coworker. Yamaguchi looks up at him, his eyes wide and expectant, but quickly catches himself and reverts to casually gazing out of the window.

“Was that your coworker?”

Kei presses his lips together as he reads the text out loud: “The next bus going that way was delayed for about half an hour. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.”

Tadashi groans loudly, letting his head fall back with an unprecedented thud against the wall.

“Another half hour? God, I should’ve never left the stadium.”

“I agree.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, your highness.”

It’s Tsukishima’s turn to roll his eyes now, quickly making his way to the opposite corner of his former friend and sinking into a seated position on the floor. The silence between them is grating, only interrupted by the periodic sounds of a car passing outside and a few notifications from the blonde’s phone.

It doesn’t take long for the silence to become overwhelmingly awkward, and Yamaguchi is the first to give in.

“I came here to ask you if I could sing a song I wrote about you.”

Kei freezes mid-scroll.

“I’m sorry?”

Tadashi sighs, shifting his body to face his former friend as he hugs his knees a little tighter to his chest.

“I wrote a song about you. I think the lyrics are too obvious for me to even pretend it’s about anybody else. I wanted to play it tomorrow night, but…I figured I should ask you.”

Tsukishima waves his hand in the air dismissively as he returns his gaze to his phone screen.

“I don’t care what you do. You could’ve sent that in a damn email.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t say anything; he just stares at Kei for a few seconds. It goes on just long enough that Kei is preparing a witty comeback, the cruel words just barely having the chance to sit on the tip of his tongue and grow sharp and bitter before the singer sniffs and looks away, once again settling on staring out of the window.

Kei can feel himself deflate just a bit at Tadashi’s reaction. He’d almost wanted a fight out of him. The lack of rebuttal almost makes him uncomfortable, and he shifts to angle himself just slightly out of Tadashi’s line of sight.

A few more seconds pass, and Kei is just getting ready to say something snippy for the sole sake of filling the deafening silence when Tadashi speaks again.
“An email wouldn’t have worked. You can’t tell someone how you feel about them in an email.”

Tsukki scoffs, powering off his phone and glaring at the man across the room.
“I think I got your message loud and clear. You just would’ve felt a little dumber typing out how much you despise me and sending it.”

“...I don’t hate you. I never could.”

The confession is barely audible. In fact, if Kei had even blinked too loudly, he’s sure he would have missed it altogether.

He wants to tell Tadashi how relieved he is to hear that, to describe the hefty weight the words have taken from his shoulders. He thought for sure that years of skipping out on shows and appearances as soon as things took a turn for the better had culminated in Tadashi’s deep-seated hatred for his former best friend, and hearing otherwise allowed the ropes that squeezed his heart to slacken a bit. But admitting such a thing would be as good as admitting guilt: for the jealousy, for the general cruelty…so instead, the athlete makes a sour face, choosing to observe a small nick in the wooden floors of the storage closet as he speaks.

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“You make it impossible to talk to you.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t think you are.”

Silence. Yamaguchi speaks up again, his voice thick with emotion. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“But you haven’t for four years. Why not? What did I do?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly accessible.”

Tadashi frowns. “If you’re so accessible, how is this the first time I’ve managed to get a hold of you since high school?”

Kei shrugs, coolly brushing off dust that has settled around the hem of his pants legs. “I still don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I really don’t.”

“Stop it! You know what I mean, Tsukishima!”

The outburst is completely unexpected, practically blindsiding the both of them as the words fly past the singers’ lips dripping with venom. The use of his last name in favor of his first name—or even the nickname he so detested all those years ago—does not go unnoticed, and the shock of hearing it laced with the pure, unadulterated fury in Tadashi’s voice renders Kei completely silent for a moment—just long enough for Tadashi to take it as an invitation to continue.

“We were…I loved you. And you knew it, I know you did. More than anything, I wanted to celebrate my dreams coming true with you. And then I did my first show—do you remember that? It was a stupid five-song set at some nightclub in Tokyo. And you showed up right as I was getting offstage. You missed the whole damn performance, and that was still better than you not showing up at all for the next four years!”

There are tears in the singer’s eyes, but he doesn’t lose his confidence as they begin painting streaks in the artfully applied makeup that dusts his cheeks.

“I sent you tickets to every show near home, and you never came to one. I invited you as my plus one to award shows, and you wouldn’t even answer those. Hell, I liked it when you were giving me shitty excuses in the beginning, because at least you wanted me to think you wanted to be there. But no, you just stopped fucking coming. Why? What did I do? I wanted you there, I wanted you there, I wanted you there…”

His emotions overtake him as he repeats his last words to himself, now sobbing openly as he tries desperately to wipe away his tears on the sleeves of his top.

Kei is dumbfounded. He hadn’t thought Tadashi had even really noticed his absence as his career grew rapidly. He didn’t think it would make much of a difference, anyway—a childhood friend lingering behind him like some sort of shadow of the past.

“I…I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit!” Tadashi sobs harder. “You’re not fucking sorry, so don’t lie! I’ve had it, enough, I’m sick of you lying!”

Kei presses his lips together. How could he be expected to explain himself after years? Tadashi won’t understand.

Tadashi doesn’t know him the way he used to. He doesn’t recognize the subtle eye rolls that indicate his discomfort. He doesn’t catch the way Kei winds a loose thread he’s been meaning to cut off of his pants around his pinky finger until it goes cold as he tries desperately to find his voice. He doesn’t see the burning of his ears as shame sprouts in his chest, its roots digging into his stomach as its flowers bloom a brilliant red that creeps up the back of his neck. How is he meant to explain himself when…

“Everything changed.”

It’s such a simple statement. Two simple words with years of weight resting upon them.

They’re not enough for Tadashi.

“What does that mean?”

Kei sighs, a moment of weakness pulling the words from his mouth before he can stop them.

“It all changed. That first show…I do remember. You were coming offstage, and you smiled at me, and it was just…different. I couldn’t tell you how, I don’t think. It was instant. There was nothing I could do, so I ran.”

“Nothing you could…what? What are you even talking about?”

For a moment, he considers explaining—but it’s too late. There’s no way to properly explain how he felt about the sudden changes in his life. Instead, he shakes his head sadly.

“...forget it. Let’s just wait for help to get here.”

Tadashi throws his hands up in exasperation, an incredulous laugh reverberating from his chest as his tears dry on his freckled cheeks. Light foundation stains the black sleeves of his top, making a soon-to-be nightmare for his costume stylist.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s just wait for help. I don’t know why I ever thought you’d change. You still can’t just be honest about anything. How typical.”

Tsukki’s voice is uncharacteristically soft when he speaks next. “Is it really so bad to be typical?”

“Yes, when typical means shutting everyone out!”

Tadashi doesn’t even look at him, instead choosing to glare out of the window at the setting sun. In fact, he doesn’t even consider sparing the man next to him a glance until he hears a soft sniffle.

Kei blinks rapidly in an attempt to keep the unexpected tears at bay, and his cheeks glow a vibrant red as he tries to hide all evidence of his emotional state.

“Forgive me if I’m reliable. I prefer things to stay the way I know them. That can’t possibly be a crime.”

Tadashi isn’t even sure what to say. He isn’t sure what he can say.

Familiar silence envelopes the two of them once again, but the desire to speak is almost palpable as it floats between them.

“I’m sorry, Tadashi.”

It’s almost as if neither man expected Tsukishima to say the words, matching expressions of sheer surprise painting each of their faces. If it weren’t for the sincerity that filled the athlete’s eyes, Yamaguchi would be entirely convinced that he had simply heard incorrectly.

But no, it’s true: Kei Tsukishima has apologized—right here before his ex-best friend in a dusty, moonlit storage closet. The situation at hand is a far cry from what either one of them had expected of their reunion in the past few years.

Yamaguchi smiles softly, clearly touched by the apology. “Thank you. I…didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

Kei nods once, pressing his lips into a thin line as he notes the careful word choice; sure, Tadashi had said he hadn’t meant to be cruel, but he definitely wasn’t sorry. Regardless, Kei tries to continue while he still has the nerve.

“I just…I wanted to leave you before you had the chance to leave me. I could see you were going to make it big right away, and I…I didn’t want to see you change. I couldn’t stand the thought of you becoming this totally different person right in front of me, so I was desperate to just look anywhere else, no matter what that demanded of me.” Kei pauses, clearly surprising himself with his own honesty. He takes a deep breath before he continues. “And for that, I am really, truly sorry, Tadashi.”

Yamaguchi looks as if he’d been slapped. “Leave me before…? Kei, I’d never want to leave you. I loved you—you had to know that.”

“I knew…how we felt about each other. I didn’t think it would be enough.”

“Yeah,” Tadashi giggles, suddenly full of glee, “you always were a little dumb in the feelings department.”

Tsukishima tries to glare at him—really, he does—but it’s borderline impossible when he catches sight of the gorgeous way Tadashi’s cheeks flush as he smiles at him fondly.

Tadashi has changed, it’s true. He doesn’t hide his body in his old uniform of white gym tees, and he doesn’t hum softly to himself in the locker room, stopping abruptly whenever he thought someone may have heard him—he sings onstage in front of thousands, donning stylish costumes that bare his freckled skin for the world to see.

But, Tsukki realizes, so has he. From his newfound love and determination for his sport to something as simple as his new preference for caramel creamer in his morning coffee, he is significantly different from who he was even just six months prior. Life has once again played its dirty trick of putting abrupt changes into place, but for the first time ever, Kei isn’t too bothered.

He feels his lips curl to match Yamaguchi’s bashful grin. Neither of them speaks, but instead of the painful silence of the past few hours, the air seems to echo with distant memories of their friendship.

It’s Tadashi who moves first, standing to walk across the small room and sit next to Tsukishima. Their shoulders touch as the singer pulls his knees to his chest once again, resting his cheek against his legs as he gazes at Kei.

“That song I wrote about you? I wrote it years ago—after you ignored my invite to the Grammys. I won that night, and all I did was cry because you weren’t there.” Yamaguchi smiles wistfully, the vision of himself weeping in the greenroom after receiving his award floating through his mind as if it had only been mere hours. “Just imagine: the very biggest night of my life, and I cried because I lost you. I won a Grammy, and you were still more important.”

Kei presses his lips together, his chest tightening at the thought. “I’m sorry I ruined such a wonderful thing for you.”

Tadashi laughs, loud and clearly wildly amused. “You didn’t ruin anything. I wouldn’t change a thing about that night. It was when I realized I was still in love with you.”

“....oh.”

“Yeah.”

Tsukishima peeks at him from the corner of his eye, giving a start as he catches Yamaguchi peeking back at him. His first instinct is to look away —he wants to look away—but it’s impossible. The confession hangs heavily in the air, each of them unsure how to continue.

Kei clears his throat. Tadashi sniffs. Kei’s phone pings—one new text.

“Makoto-san will be here soon. He’s able to let us out.”

Tadashi nods once, his expression of pure hope only wavering slightly.

“He can take his time if getting out of here means I won’t see you again for four more years.”

Kei takes a deep breath, deciding to hold it as he reaches down…
…and grabs Tadashi’s hand.

It draws a gasp from the vocalist, and Kei doesn’t even have to look to know that the man is blushing profusely. He squeezes once, the quick action intended to bring comfort.

“I’m not going anywhere. We can…just pick up where we left off. You just got offstage in Tokyo. I missed the whole performance.”

“Promise?” Tadashi laughs lightly, but his voice is watery.

“.....I promise.”

They smile at each other as footsteps approach the door outside, several more unspoken confessions and unnamed desires hovering just beyond their lips as Kei squeezes Tadashi’s hand one more time.

“Sorry I missed the show tonight.”

“Don’t worry. There’ll be more.”