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It is part of the human nature to crave company, to look for someone who will share some of your weight. And the fear of being left alone, the fear of being lost in a hazy world with no one to turn to, is deeply engraved in most hearts.
Tsukishima was lonely most of the time. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, shaking and crying, thinking about the people he had seen dying in front of him. There had been so many, an uncountable number of people he had lost. So many, that he couldn’t stand it anymore, he went to his work in the factory with headphones on, a frown on his face. He avoided everyone, hissed some short remarks when someone tried to talk to him, and when his co-workers tried to invite him to have a drink after their shift, he didn’t even bother to answer them. He walked straight past them, as if they weren’t even there, put on his headphones and walked back home.
His apartment was in fact way too far from his work to walk the distance. But he had nothing better to do with his time, after eleven centuries he had pretty much done everything that there was to do, he had travelled, he had read books of which people didn’t even know they existed anymore. And he was tired of most things, he was tired of seeing people make the same mistakes again and again, tired of seeing other people grow up, lead a happy live and then finally die.
Two hours of walk there and two hours of walk back again, in between them the same monotonous work, every day.
“Excuse me! I think you dropped this”, a voice called from behind him. The owner of that voice, a tall young man with black messy hair, handed him his wallet with a smirk. Tsukishima took it without saying a word.
“Whoa, who pissed into your cereal this morning? It’s ok to smile from time to time, you know?”, the man said. Tsukishima tried to walk past him, to ignore him like he did it with the rest of the world, but the other didn’t seem to care. He caught up to him and started walking right next to him. “It’s also pretty rude to wear headphones when you are talking to someone.”
“I have no intention of talking to you,” Tsukishima said with no hint of emotion in his voice.
“So, where are you heading? You don’t see that many people around here,” the other answered, obviously not caring for what Tsukishima had said.
“I am taking this route every day.”
“You’re living in that village over there?”, he said as he pointed to the group of houses they were approaching, the closest village to the factory he was working in.
“No.”
Tsukishima wasn’t sure how to get rid of him, that man with the warm aura, that man who obviously didn’t want to understand that Tsukishima had no interest in a conversation. He looked straight ahead and tried to pretend the other wasn’t even there and as he took out the phone of his pocket to turn up the volume of his music, the other just pushed his headphones aside.
“What are you listening to?”, he asked.
“Music.”
“I would have never guessed that! What kind of music are you into?”
“This and that.”
“Ok, let me guess. You look like those people who think their taste in music is superior and who despise everything that is played on the radio just as a matter of principle. So you probably listen to some really obscure indie bands.” He looked at Tsukishima, hoping for any kind of reaction. He didn’t want to do him that favour.
--
The next day, the black haired man was leaning at a lamppost close to the spot where Tsukishima had dropped his wallet the other day.
“Hello four-eyes, are we in a better mood today?”, he said and made his way to Tsukishima’s side as if it was the most natural thing to do. Tsukishima tried to ignore him. He really tried.
“Obviously not, but that’s no big deal, I have enough good mood for the both of us. I’m still thinking about what kind of music you like by the way. I guess obscure indie bands was wrong?”
“My taste in music is none of your business,” Tsukishima said coldly.
“Come on, I didn’t mean to offend you. Will you let me continue guessing?”, he said, his arms crossed behind his head.
“Whatever.”
“You don’t look like a hip hop person to me and you don’t look like a punk person. Do you like classic rock?”
Tsukishima just grunted in response.
“Apparently not. How about electro? No? Are you into pop after all?”
“Not really.”
“Country maybe? Or metal? Damn, you are a hard one.”
“Maybe.”
--
Truth was, Tsukishima had no actual preference when it came to music. He used to love music, but that had been ages ago, before he had grown tired of being forced to continue waking up day after day, year after year, century after century.
At this point, music was to him just a means to stop thinking, a means to make the world around him disappear.
--
The black haired one never failed to wait for him on his way home. It was unsettling for Tsukishima, because no matter how hard he tried to ignore him, no matter how cold and short his answers were, the other didn’t care. He didn’t stop showing up, he didn’t stop talking to him. He was persistent and it didn’t make sense to Tsukishima why he was that interested in him. There was nothing special about him, just a tired old man who had stopped aging around the age of twenty and who had in the past 1126 years somehow failed to die.
And Tsukishima was afraid.
He was afraid of the fact that the other didn’t leave him be, that the other hadn’t been pushed away by his unfriendly attitude. But the thing that scared him even more was the fact that he enjoyed the way the other smiled at him, the way he kept showing up and the way his voice sounded. He had been lonely for a long time, but he knew that being lonely hurt less than seeing the ones he loved wither away like flowers on the roadside.
But he found it hard to avoid looking at the flowers anyway.
--
“We know each other for quite a while now, don’t you think it would be time to properly introduce ourselves?”, he said one day after he had spent more than a week with guessing what music Tsukishima liked. He had asked him about every possible genre and had then gone over to ask for bands, Tsukishima had given him non telling answers.
“I don’t think so”, Tsukishima answered. He could feel his muscles tensing up. A name was the last thing he needed. It was easier to get attached to a person if that person had a name, and if the person remained nameless, the person remained anonymous. And if a person remained anonymous, there was no way to get attached to them.
“I’m Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou. What’s your name?”
“Not important.”
“Not important who?”, Kuroo said with a smirk. He nudged Tsukishima’s shoulder, a habit he had picked up after a while whenever he tried to tease him.
“My name is not important for you.”
Tsukishima tried to quicken his pace, to avoid Kuroo, because from that point it could only be run or fall and Tsukishima didn’t want to fall.
“Well then, not important, back to the usual talk, right? So how do you feel about the Beatles?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, you must have an opinion on the Beatles. Even if you don’t like them, you must feel somehow about them!”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I do not.”
“How about Taylor Swift then? Any opinion on her?”
Tsukishima would have expected that he would at least be a little bit frustrated. Just a hint of desperate “please I’m about to give up on you” in his voice. But it was still the same smirky tone that Kuroo had had from the beginning. He was starting to wonder if he was actually stupid enough to believe their conversation would actually become less one-sided at some point or if that man was just a hopeless idealist who believed that everyone was nice and friendly if you tried hard enough. No matter why, Tsukishima told himself repeatedly, there was no reason to change his approach.
“I don’t like her and I don’t dislike her. That is my opinion on her.” He realized after he had finished the sentence that his answers were getting longer. That one might even call what they were doing a conversation. Still not a very active one on his part, but he was talking to Kuroo and he wasn’t even deliberately telling him that he had no opinions on the artists the other brought up to piss him off but because it was the truth.
“So what do you like then?”, Kuroo asked, suddenly stopping in the middle of the pathway. He looked at Tsukishima with his raised eyebrows and a questioning look in his golden eyes.
Tsukishima could have just ignored him, he could have taken the chance to walk away from him. But he stopped walking.
“Nothing in particular, actually. It’s like drinking for the sake of getting drunk.”
He was so tired of seeing people making the same mistakes over and over again, but he was human too. He was just the same, repeating his past mistakes as if he hadn’t learned from them.
--
One could think that after over 1000 years, the pain of heartbreak wouldn’t be that big anymore. That it got put into the bigger perspective, that it gets unimportant since the fact that there will be so many other opportunities to find happiness in love. Tsukishima knew it didn’t hurt less. He wasn’t sure if it didn’t just hurt more and more each time.
There was no end to it, that was the problem.
--
Kuroo was waiting for him right where he always waited, and as he saw Tsukishima approaching, his previously indifferent expression turned into a wide smile.
“Hey, not important, how are you today?”
There was the strong urge in Tsukishima to tell him that he was a bit tired from work, that he was slightly hungry because he had had to throw out his lunch today since the bread of his sandwich had been mouldy, and that he was listening to New Orleans Jazz right now, but instead he just shrugged and said: “the usual.”
“Well, I’ve had an exhausting day. I kind of failed my statistics exam today and then I missed my train by seconds – the doors closed just as I wanted to get in, damn. But well. You haven’t told me yet where you are heading everyday by the way,” the other rambled as he walked next to Tsukishima.
“Home,” he answered.
“Where the fuck are you living? I mean, I keep you company for about 25 minutes to the next train station but you keep on walking.” Kuroo was looking at him with a hint of disbelief in his eyes and Tsukishima was thinking if he should tell him or if he should brush off the question, if the other would give up finally or if it was already too late for himself.
“I’m pretty much living in the city centre,” he said, unsure why he was letting Kuroo even closer to him.
“Why don’t you take the train then?”
“I prefer walking.”
“But doesn’t it take hours?”
“That’s the point.”
Kuroo crossed his hands behind his head again, looked up into the grey sky and laughed. “You are a weird one. But that’s what I like about you.”
The sound of those words felt like a bullet into his heart. Tsukishima knew it was too late by now, he wanted to step closer, take Kuroo by his collar and shake him, tell him to leave him alone before he would actually become important to him. If Kuroo would walk out of his life now it wouldn’t be too bad, he would still be able to get over it. The black-haired was persistent though, he was standing in front of a heavily guarded wall, shooting at it until it would eventually tumble down.
He couldn’t do it.
“Actually, you’re the weird one. You keep coming every day, you keep trying to talk to me and you don’t care that I am trying to get rid of you since day one.”
“You looked lonely, that’s why I thought I’d keep you company. But if you want me to actually leave you alone, just tell me.” Kuroo’s smile was genuine, and Tsukishima was sure he’d actually leave if he told him to, that he would just have to say the words to get rid of him, to stop this before it could actually start.
“No,” he said instead. And he was mad, so mad at himself. He hadn’t cried in ages but the hot stinging he felt behind his eyes was a feeling he had almost forgotten.
“Then I’ll continue to keep you company. But I mean it, if you want me to leave, you just have to tell me.”
“My name is Tsukishima, by the way.”
--
He was cursed, he knew it. Cursed with life, a never ending life. He had spent years with wondering what he did to deserve this curse, in the end there had been no answer, just more pain.
When he had hit thirty, he had already been done with wondering why he didn’t look a day older than on his 21st birthday. And when his friends and his family had started to die, one by one until no one had been left, he had patiently waited for his turn. For the day where he wouldn’t wake up, the day where he would stop breathing. It didn’t come.
He had tried to die, he had tried every possible way that was known to mankind, he had been in countless wars, hoping that someone would finally kill him. Humans found more and more ways to kill each other, and yet there he was. Tsukishima Kei, unable to die.
--
“Tell me something about you, Tsukki,” Kuroo said. He was sitting across from him, two plates of strawberry shortcake between them. His chin rested on his hand, and his smile was warm and fond. The last time someone had called him Tsukki had been 70 years ago. That person had been shot in some Chinese no man’s land, he had been too, but he had survived. Tsukishima wasn’t sure why he was with Kuroo in that café, why he let him pay for his cake and why he let himself be called Tsukki again.
“There’s not much about me actually.”
“Well, then tell me about that ‘not much’. How old are you? What do you do for a living? What are your hobbies? Don’t make me guess them all again.”
“I’m working in that paper factory,” Tsukishima answered. He had nothing to say to the other two questions, telling Kuroo that he was an over 1000 years old immortal who was so tired of living that he was actually surprised that he hadn’t started to make drinking his hobby yet didn’t seem like a good idea. Then again, it maybe would have scared Kuroo off. But maybe it hadn’t, because his whole attitude hadn’t scared the other off either.
“Seriously? You never fail to amaze me. You have something about you that made me believe you are more of the thinker type.”
“You are a student, I suppose?”
“Yeah, I’m a sociology major. I know what you’re thinking, there’s no money in that field. My parent’s keep telling me that too.”
“That wasn’t what I’m thinking. I thought that it’s an interesting thing to study.”
It was hard to look at Kuroo without noticing the spark in his eyes, without noticing the way his fingers held the fork. Small things that Tsukishima hadn’t looked at in years. He wondered when the last time had been that he had held an actual conversation with someone, when the last time had been that he had enjoyed himself. He wasn’t even sure anymore if that what he was feeling was called enjoyment, he thought he had lost the ability to feel something that came close to happiness ages ago.
“True. My parents wanted me to become a lawyer or something like that and here I am. Did your parents have any academic plans for you?” The way Kuroo was talking was captivating, the sound of his voice, the movement of his lips. He was a beacon while Tsukishima was a clouded night, but there was a feeling inside of him, a feeling of light. Faint and dim, but it wasn’t completely burnt down yet.
“My parents died long ago, I don’t know if they had any plans of this kind.”
“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t know. Must have been hard, growing up like that.”
--
Kuroo hadn’t been wrong, Tsukishima was actually a man of thought. At least he had been once. But he had grown tired of universities, he had grown tired of books. Maybe even tired of thinking itself.
He had studied a lot. Sociology too, the worthless diplomas were in a box in his apartment, hidden, under his bed. He had fallen in love with his professor once, a short but passionate liaison that hadn’t ended well. After that he had been a bit hesitant to enrol in another university. But that feeling had worn down after some years, he had started studying again, another country and another major, just another worthless piece of paper for his box. Who would care for a degree in philosophy from May 1837?
--
The moon shone bright that night, a silver glistening full moon. It had never occurred to him that the moon was this beautiful, maybe it had but he had forgotten about it.
“It wouldn’t kill you to smile from time to time, by the way,” Kuroo said and gently nudged his shoulder. Seated, they were both of the same height, even though Tsukishima was taller when standing. The other was probably too close, physically and emotionally. Tsukishima wasn’t sure if it mattered anymore. It was too late to get out of this unharmed.
“No, it wouldn’t,” he said.
“You know, you’re that odd, it wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t even know how to smile.”
As Kuroo placed his head on his shoulder, he suddenly became aware of all the spots where they were touching. He felt the warmth of Kuroo’s skin against his ankles and his upper arm. Kuroo’s hand was resting on the ground, close to his back. It made his heart beat faster, it made the blood rush into his face and ears. He wasn’t uncomfortable with the touch, but he wasn’t used to it.
Reason told him to push him away, desire told him to hold him close.
“I probably know how to smile. But I haven’t in a long time.” Tsukishima closed his eyes, trying to remind himself of the ephemerality of all this.
“Well, then, you leave me no choice. I’m gonna make you smile.”
Kuroo moved quickly, turning around to face him and then he started to tickle him. There were memories of past moments like that came back with that touch, memories of friends and lovers that had perished over time and those memories clouded his mind.
But then there was Kuroo, his smile bright and his eyes brighter, he was a star that shone through the clouds. And Tsukishima was sure that he had forgotten how to smile, how to laugh. And he was sure that there was no point in him sitting there with Kuroo and laughing because Kuroo would just become another painful memory someday. And yet, he was laughing because Kuroo was tickling him, he laughed until he had tears in his eyes, until his stomach hurt.
“You are really cute like that,” Kuroo said as he stopped and let his back fall onto the grass. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me to get lost back then.”
This time, Tsukishima didn’t answer, but with a smile on his face. Somehow, he was glad as well.
--
The first few times, he had believed that maybe this time it would work out, that maybe the parameters of life and death had changed, that there would be a way for them to die together or to stay alive forever, together.
It never had, death was the only constant in this world. He had told very few people in his life about his immortality, most of them in the first few hundred years. He had told his freckled friend that he had met in the military about it too when the other had asked if he was afraid to die. Yamaguchi had been terrified, the first time on the battlefield he had clutched his gun that tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
Tsukishima thought a lot about that injustice, those who are scared of death are the first to die and he, who would gladly welcome death would be the very last.
--
The first time Kuroo visited him, Tsukishima made sure to hide the memories of his past lives even better than usual. There were lots of things to hide, with old age comes sentimentality and he was, in fact, a very sentimental man. His apartment looked close to bare when Kuroo arrived.
“I wouldn’t have expected such a chic apartment from some guy who works in a paper factory, to be honest,” he said as he looked around. “Are you secretly a millionaire?”
“No. I just have some modest savings.”
Tsukishima moved to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove. He didn’t really like electric kettles, he didn’t like a lot of modern things even though he gave them credit for being convenient.
“Seriously, you are a strange guy,” Kuroo said as he slung his arms around him from behind, gently kissing his neck.
“You are even stranger for putting up with me,” he answered.
“Probably.”
--
He wasn’t sure if he loved Kuroo, he wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to love Kuroo. He enjoyed his company, he was refreshing. But there was a biting feeling in the back of his head, a biting voice that told him that it wasn’t too late yet to tell Kuroo to leave, that he still could minimize the harm done.
At this point, he didn’t care anymore. He was a fool and he had no excuse for his foolish behaviour. He had thrown any intentions of guarding his own wall, he wanted to fall and he wanted to hope that Kuroo could catch him.
--
“You know, I keep wondering about one thing: you don’t seem to have many friends. In fact, you don’t seem to have any friends at all.” Kuroo had turned himself to the side, facing Tsukishima, his head supported by his left arm.
“I won’t deny that,” he answered, his gaze somewhere, wandering from Kuroo’s bare chest to the print on the blanket they were laying under to the white wall behind him.
“That sounds pretty lonely.” Kuroo’s free hand moved to trace the skin over Tsukishima’s collarbones and he was smiling. Tsukishima wasn’t sure if it was pity or concern, he thought about the fact that he was used to loneliness too much, loneliness was an awful feeling but it wasn’t as awful as heartbreak.
“Maybe. But I prefer being lonely in the first place to being left behind.”
“That’s pretty stupid, you know? You can’t avoid getting hurt by other people. Maybe you’ll hurt me one day, maybe I’ll hurt you and that can’t be helped. But I wouldn’t want to miss out on this, on us. I want to be with you forever.”
Out of all things he could have said, Tsukishima thought. It felt like he mocked him, mocked his pain and his fears. He knew it wasn’t intentional, but it didn’t ease the empty feeling inside of him. So he broke down, without any warning, without any notice of tears swelling up or anything. There were centuries of hurt inside of him, that had built up barriers to protect him from the world and walls to protect him from himself. They started to come down, all at once, an avalanche of feelings. No matter how much Kuroo would promise to stay with him forever, it meant nothing. It may not have been a lie but it was nothing more than hollow words.
“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok,” Kuroo whispered as he moved closer to him, pulling him in close and kissing his hair over and over again. “I’m here, don’t worry.”
But there were few things that were ok, Tsukishima knew how the story would end and he was scared. He had become aware of the height he had climbed, the height he would fall one day. And he knew he would survive, survival wasn’t his concern but he could not estimate how injured he would be once he would land.
“There is no point in this, there is nothing that will come from this but despair. You probably don’t understand, I know that you can’t understand.”
His silent crying turned into violent sobs, and Kuroo was pressing him closer to his chest, gently rubbing his back and whispering comforting words.
“I can’t do this, Kuroo. You can tell me you won’t leave me all you want but I know you will. That’s how this game works and I can’t do this anymore.”
Kuroo cupped his face with both hands, lifted his gaze so he was forced to look into those golden eyes of his. With his thumbs, he wiped away the tears on Tsukishima’s cheek and kissed him gently. “Shh, baby, it’s ok. I won’t leave you. Seriously, you’re stuck with this stupid good-for-nothing for the rest of your life. Please. I’m here.”
“You can’t, Kuroo, and that’s the point. I want to believe you will, I want to believe you are able to, but I know better. I have seen so many die, so many people that I have loved have died in my arms already and you will, in the best case, become another one of them. But you will not stay with me till the end, because it’s impossible. One day, you will die and leave me behind. I’m immortal, Kuroo, I know what I am talking about. And even if you promise me forever, your forever is just like another day in my life.”
Then silence filled the room, but that’s how it usually went down, whenever he said it. It was a strange concept for mortal beings, that there was someone who couldn’t do what made every human the same, what united them in its separating way. Maybe he wasn’t human in the first place.
But Kuroo didn’t look at him like he was a monster and he didn’t look at him in shock. Tsukishima had seen it both, he was used to the disgust or the fright in the eyes of his beloved that had been entrusted with his deepest secret. It wasn’t disbelief either that he saw in Kuroo’s face. The look on his face hadn’t changed at all, in fact, the same comforting and loving gaze that he had worn when he had kissed him before. He did it again, his nose and then his mouth, making their foreheads touch as he broke the kiss.
--
Tsukishima never stopped to fear, because he could feel himself climbing higher each day that he spent with Kuroo. Somehow he was envious of him, he was jealous that the other had the ability to die. He sometimes laughed at the irony of this, wanting the thing he feared the most.
He had grown afraid of death at last, but it wasn’t his own death that he feared.
--
The day that Kuroo moved into his apartment was a sunny day, a day that felt like a new beginning. It had been raining for weeks, the days had been filled with grey without end. And that morning, Tsukishima had woken up to sunbeams on his face.
Kuroo came with a few friends who helped them carry his things to the second floor but left as soon as every box was in the hallway. He had apologized that he had brought that much stuff but Tsukishima had laughed about the boxes in the hallway, thinking about all the things he had collected in his lifetime.
“I’ve been wondering about something,” Kuroo asked while he started to sort some shirts into the second closet they had bought a few days earlier. “I mean, you certainly don’t look like you’re over a thousand years old.”
“Dermatologists hate me,” Tsukishima answered and opened another box of Kuroo’s clothes.
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“To answer your question: I don’t age. It makes things actually a lot more complicated, because I can’t really stay in one place for a long time, but that’s the way it is.”
Kuroo bit his lip in response, looked at the black t-shirt in his hand. “But will you still love me when I’m old and all wrinkly and you’re still looking like a twentysomething?”
“I will,” he promised with a kiss on Kuroo’s cheek. “You’re stuck with this good-for-nothing until you die.”
--
They said forever in their vows, even though it was nothing they could promise each other.
--
At some point, Kuroo had started to call him “old man”. It was true, of course, that was what he was, but with every year that passed it became more ironic. They celebrated his elevenhundredsomethingth birthday together, Kuroo had made the same cake that they had had years ago when they had sat in that café together, a strawberry shortcake. The first time he had tried to bake one for him had ended in a disaster, but with time he had become better at baking.
Kuroo’s strawberry shortcake was his favourite.
“You should smile more, you grumpy old man,” he said and kissed him. The kiss tasted like tea and cake and like him, he was fond of it.
“I smile a lot. You shouldn’t eat that much cake,” Tsukishima said and poked Kuroo’s belly.
“Hey, you had way more cake than me!”
“But I still have the body of an adolescent.”
--
He didn’t even bother that Kuroo would slowly wither away. At least not in the way that Kuroo feared. It was just a reminder for him that he would be alone again one day.
The day he spotted the first grey hair on Kuroo’s head, he locked himself up in the bathroom and cried for hours.
--
“I don’t understand youth these days. They are rude and lazy and they all depend on their stupid technology,” Kuroo said, his head resting on Tsukishima’s lap.
“The youth hasn’t changed a bit since the day I was born. Neither have old people, because I hear the same thing you just said all the time.” He played with the grey hair that still looked as messy as when it still had been black, a lot of Kuroo hadn’t changed in fact, he had just grown a little bit quieter over the years.
“Wisdom has spoken,” Kuroo said playfully, gently pinching Tsukishima’s youthful cheek.
They had built a house together, close to the shore, because Kuroo had always wanted to live by the sea, they had adopted a cat together that was sleeping next to Kuroo’s hip. Growing old together was a beautiful illusion.
“We can have a look at my box of degrees again later if you feel like doubting my wisdom.”
“I’d never doubt your wisdom, Kei. You are, after all, the oldest man on earth.”
“You may actually be the biggest idiot on earth.”
“But I’m your biggest idiot,” he said with as much youthful joy that a sixty year old man could put in one sentence.
--
Even though he hated to admit it, it was part of Tsukishima’s nature to crave company. And as much as he tried to pretend he didn’t, he wanted someone who could lift off some of the heavy weight on his shoulders. Someone that would be with him, a point where he could return to when he got lost.
He couldn’t have it, he knew that. At least not forever.
And he hoped, because it was the only thing he could hope for besides for the fact that Kuroo would live long, that maybe he had finally dulled to the pain of losing the one he loved.
He hadn’t.