Work Text:
There’s a tune stuck in Kei’s head as he rides the train home.
Not a good tune, not even a fully finished tune... It’s still dissonant, unconnected, incomplete...
And it’s in the wrong damn key...
E-flat?
Or F?
...
Neither.
He doesn’t need to hum it aloud, not anymore. He’s been doing this so long, it’s like he has his own piano inside his head.
A-flat... F.... D-flat... D-flat major...
G... E-flat... C... C minor...
B-flat... G-flat... E-flat... E-flat minor...
B-flat... A... E-flat... E-flat major...
B... A... E-flat... with an accelerando-
Kei immediately sits up as something finally falls into place, and he needs to write it down immediately. He repeats the chord progression over and over and over in his head as he frantically digs a pen out of his bag.
I don’t have any paper... Damn, I should’ve asked for a receipt with coffee...
With no other bright ideas coming into his head, Kei grabs the nearest hand and starts drawing a staff, scribbling in a lazy treble clef and marking the notes with little bubbles. He’s done this to Yamaguchi a thousand times, it’s not like she’ll mind-
Kei freezes as he suddenly remembers he’s riding the train alone today.
“Uh... hello.”
Kei makes eye contact with the stranger that he just started graffitiing and feels his mouth go dry.
I can’t believe I just did that.
The stranger looks much more amused than annoyed, but Kei doesn’t feel any less embarrassed about it. “I-I’m sorry,” he says as soon as he’s able to get his mouth to cooperate with him. “I... really needed to write that down...”
“I have a notebook in my bag. I can tear you out some paper,” the stranger offers.
Kei finally lets go of the stranger’s hand and clears his throat. “Uh, that would be... Thank you.”
That would be thank you.
The stranger just smiles and gets Kei the promised sheet of paper, even being so kind as to hold up his hand so Kei can copy down what he’d already written. Kei is absolutely mortified, and considers getting off the train at the soonest possible stop, no matter how far it ends up being from his apartment...
“Sorry,” Kei says again once he’s done copying his chords down. “I usually take the train with a friend and... I forgot you weren’t her.”
“It’s no trouble,” the stranger says, still smiling at Kei. Maybe I accidentally started talking to a weirdo... “What’s the music for?”
“Oh, uh, I’m a composer.”
The stranger’s smile goes even wider. “Really? That’s incredible.”
Kei refrains from laughing. Yeah, real incredible that I manage to write chords in an order that is slightly new. Yeah, real groundbreaking stuff. “It pays the bills,” he says instead with a shrug.
“So you write for like, a full-on orchestra?”
Kei nods. “Everything from piccolo to bass to bass drum.”
“Incredible.” The stranger has too much fondness in his eyes for talking to someone he’s known for less than five minutes. I knew it. He’s a weirdo. “How long have you been composing?”
“Ever since I started college,” Kei says with a shrug. “So about... eight years now?”
“Ah, so you’re still young.”
He says that like he’s old. “Twenty-six.”
“Oh, we’re so close. I’m twenty-eight.”
Really? You look well into your thirties at first glance...
Kei decides to not say this out loud. He doesn’t have a reason to try and get on this guy’s bad side. Yet.
“What do you do?” Kei asks.
“I just work a boring desk job at a publishing company,” he says, his smile dimming a little.
“Yeah? How do you find that?”
The stranger chuckles. “It pays the bills.”
Kei just nods, but says nothing more. As pleasant as the stranger is to talk to, Kei kind of wants to go back to composing in his head.
There’s a moment of silence, and Kei’s about to go back inside his own head, but the stranger speaks up again. “What’s your name?” he asks. “Maybe I’ve heard of your work before.”
Kei clears his throat. “Tsukishima Kei.”
The stranger rolls the name around in his head, even gently repeating it to himself, “Tsukishima Kei,” but ultimately shakes his head. “It’s not ringing any bells.”
“Ah.”
“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” the stranger says.
“I’m afraid I don’t know any of your work either.”
Kuroo laughs, and Kei pauses a moment, because Kuroo’s laugh is so... pleasing. Kei feels really satisfied to have made him laugh with such a simple (and honestly unfunny) joke.
Okay. So maybe the weirdo is kind of attractive.
“So you’re into music then?” Kei asks.
“Mmhmm.”
“Do you play an-”
Kei’s question is interrupted when the train jerks and decelerates, and a polite voice announces the next stop over speakers throughout the train cars.
“Well, that’s mine,” Kuroo says, closing up his bag and standing up. “It was nice meeting you, Tsukishima-san. And good luck with your music.”
“It was nice meeting you, too,” Kei says automatically, just watching Kuroo as he gives one last smile and exits the train.
Maybe... I should have asked for his number...
~
A few weeks later, Kei’s about halfway finished writing the piece he’d started on Kuroo’s hand when he has a concert to go to. A local symphony is playing his most popular piece, and he promised the conductor he’d be there.
This is what I get for making friends in the music department back at college... Kei thinks bitterly as he adjusts his bowtie and walks into the concert hall.
Kei isn’t really looking forward to hearing his piece performed. The magic of that had been lost years ago, around the time that this piece was written, actually. Kei had been running behind paying bills and he needed to make some money fast, so he wrote this piece specifically because he knew it would be popular and it would sell. He turned out to be right, and the piece outsold everything else he’d ever written by far. It sort of killed the fun of making music when the things Kei was really passionate about weren’t as good as something he just wrote for popularity. Ever since, he’s sort of followed the same formula, writing things he knows will sell well over things he really loved, and over time, he’s just sort of stopped loving it all together. It’s not music anymore. It’s a chore.
And now he has to go listen to a lovely performance of the piece that started it all, his loathsome claim to fame.
Well... Not famous enough for Kuroo-san to have heard of me, anyway...
“Tsukishima-san!”
Kei freezes.
No. No way...
He turns and, sure enough...
“Hello, Kuroo-san,” Kei says politely. This can’t be a coincidence.
“I heard the symphony would be playing one of your pieces tonight,” Kuroo says with that smile of his that makes Kei feel something like music in his chest. “I had no idea I’d have the pleasure of seeing you here as well.”
“Come to see if I lived up to your expectations?”
“Yes, because my expectations are so high after seeing you write a whole four chords on my hand,” Kuroo says with a chuckle.
Kei immediately goes from pleased to irritated.
“Wait, that came out ruder than I meant it,” Kuroo says quickly. “I-I meant it in a it-was-only-four-chords-so-it’s-not-enough-to-go-on way, not... I’m sorry. Really.”
Kei just continues to scowl at him.
Kuroo clears his throat. “They were a lovely four chords,” he says lamely.
Kei sighs and shakes his head, pushing past the moment. “Are you here alone?”
Kuroo nods. “Just me. What about you, meeting a nice girl?”
Kei snorts. “Absolutely not.”
Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “A nice boy?”
“More likely, but still no.”
“I see. Well, it’s open seating in there,” Kuroo says, gesturing toward the hall with his head. “Would you mind sitting together?”
“What, you’re not afraid I’ll randomly draw on your hand again?”
Kuroo grins. “It would be my honor.”
~
Kei’s a little surprised when he finds himself actually sitting down for the performance next to Kuroo, but then again, he didn’t try very hard to resist. Really, he didn’t try at all. He made that happen fairly readily, in all honesty.
“Which piece is yours?” Kuroo asks as he looks at the program for the evening. Before Kei can tell him, he spots Kei’s name on the page. “Ah, Tsukishima Kei’s ‘On the Wing of a Raven.’ How poetic.”
“Pathetic” is more like it...
“And the last piece of the evening,” Kuroo continues. “Must be pretty special.”
“It’s honestly not,” Kei grumbles.
“Not much confidence, huh?”
“It’s not that...”
Kei doesn’t get the chance to explain further as the lights start dimming and his old senpai from music school, Sugawara Koushi, walks onto the stage, bowing before taking his place at the conductor’s podium.
“What is it then-”
“Sh,” Kei interrupts with a smirk. “I would expect someone like you to know not to talk during the performance.”
Kuroo just smiles and shakes his head before turning to the stage as Suga raises his arms to begin the first song.
~
“Looks like you’re up, Tsukishima-san,” Kuroo says, grinning and watching Kei out of the corner of his eye as they applaud for the second to last song of the evening.
“Feel free to talk through this one,” Kei grumbles.
“I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” Kuroo insists.
Kei just rolls his eyes and holds his breath as Suga starts conducting his piece.
About five seconds in, he already can’t stand that first violin part, so he leans in closer to Kuroo and whispers, “So how long have you-”
“Sh,” Kuroo interrupts. “I genuinely want to hear this.”
“And I genuinely don’t.”
“I don’t understand why you hate-”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Kei interrupts, leaning forward and listening to make sure the oboe soloist plays this next part right.
They don’t, but whatever.
“I thought you didn’t want to hear,” Kuroo whispers with a soft laugh.
“I can’t stand the piece, but I still want it to be played correctly,” Kei grumbles.
“I think it sounds lovely so far.”
“I might agree with you if the oboist could learn to read dynamic markings.”
Kuroo clears his throat to hide a snort of laughter and goes back to listening to Kei’s piece. Kei can’t help a smile that works its way onto his face for a moment, because there is honestly just something so pleasing about making Kuroo laugh.
Kei almost makes it through to the end without commenting until the timpani player completely butchers their most important part of the song and Kei has to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.
“You’re adorable,” Kuroo murmurs, shaking his head at Kei.
That’s enough to immediately get Kei to immediately stop. “What?”
“Shh.”
~
“I don’t understand why you hate that piece so much,” Kuroo says as they step out of the concert hall into the crisp night air. Kei had to stay back a while, as Suga wanted to talk to him and ask him what he’d thought of the concert and make some other awkward smalltalk. Kei told Kuroo to go on without him, that they might run into each other some other time, but Kuroo had waited for him patiently, sticking around to tell him, “I thought it was beautiful.”
“It’s so boring,” Kei groans. “It’s my most popular piece, but ugh, that’s exactly why I wrote it in the first place.”
“So it would be popular?”
“So I could make the money,” Kei admits, lacing his fingers together. “I was in kind of a tight spot financially at the time, so I just need something that would sell, and now that’s all I’m known for.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Kuroo says, and he sounds like he means it, which makes Kei look up. It’s really nice to hear after getting responses like “Hey, it’s better than not being popular at all, right?” and “That’s what you get for selling out,” for so long. Kuroo gives Kei a smile before he clears his throat. “Can I hear something of yours that you do like sometime?”
Kei smirks. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to bring a recording with me for next time we accidentally bump into each other.”
Kuroo shrugs. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see you on purpose sometime. I mean, ideally, I’d like to go for a walk with you right now.”
Kei hesitates a little. “Why?”
“It’s a beautiful night and I like talking to you and I’d like to take you for a walk?” Kuroo offers.
“‘Take me for a walk’?” Kei repeats. “I’m not a dog.”
“No, you’re a composer who writes music that’s almost as beautiful as you are and you have the cutest laugh I’ve ever heard, and I’d really, really like to take you for a walk,” Kuroo tells him.
Kei turns away to hide the violent blush that bloomed in his cheeks. “Oh, my God, how can you just say things like that?”
“Is that a yes or no to the walk?”
“Fine,” Kei mumbles, covering his face with his hand as he follows Kuroo away from the concert hall.
~
“So what got you into composing?” Kuroo asks.
“Honestly?” Kei says with a chuckle. “I used to play trombone, but I kept getting annoyed at shitty trombone parts, so I decided to start writing my own. And it turned out I was kind of good at it. So I kept doing it, and I actually kind of started to like it. I sold my first piece when I was still in college, and I did pretty well for a while until I hit a wall. I just had no inspiration, so I stopped making new pieces, then money stopped coming in, and... well, that monstrosity happened.”
“God, if you call that a monstrosity, I can’t wait to hear something of yours that you actually like.”
Kei doesn’t say anything to that, because the thought of Kuroo listening to something he was actually passionate about and possibly not liking it is suddenly terrifying. “Alright, you know all about me and my history of composing,” Kei says, bumping his elbow into Kuroo as they walk. “What’s your deal, how’d you get into classical?”
“I used to play cello,” Kuroo explains. “I used to be really good, actually, if I do say so myself. I was gonna go professional.”
“So why didn’t you?”
Kuroo gives a bitter smile. “Elbow injury,” he says with a chuckle, patting his arm. “From overpracticing and improper bow technique.”
“Oh.” Kei clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”
Kuroo just shrugs. “It is what it is. And now I’m stuck working the most boring desk job on the planet and going to concerts whenever I can because it’s the closest I can get to playing music again, but y’know. Life goes on.”
“Have you ever tried learning something else?” Kei asks, only because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Piano or something?”
“I did try,” Kuroo says with a sigh. “But I didn’t have the patience to start all over again. It just isn’t the same, y’know?”
Kei looks at Kuroo out of the corner of his eye. His expression isn’t particularly sad or angry, but the streetlights are casting shadows over tense creases in his forehead and his jaw is clenched. But then Kuroo turns to look at Kei, and his expression immediately softens into a gentle smile, and Kei forgets to breathe for a second.
“Have you gotten any further with the song you started on my hand?” Tetsurou asks.
“Y-yeah, but I think I might rewrite a lot of it,” Kei says, looking forward because his brain doesn’t work right when he’s looking at Kuroo.
I think I finally found some inspiration.
~
Kei’s sitting at his piano, a pencil in his hand and some messy, half-scribbled out sheet music in front of him.
It’s still not right, Kei thinks to himself, twirling his pencil between his fingers. It’s still not... him.
Luckily, Kei’s saved from drowning in his thoughts when his phone rings.
Calling: Kuroo-san
With a small smirk he can’t hold back, Kei answers.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Tsukki!” comes Kuroo’s cheerful voice. Kei feels his face heat up a little from the nickname, but he can’t say he doesn’t like it. “Are you busy?”
Kei glances at his music. “Right now?”
“Yeah, I’m on a break so I thought I would see if you want to grab some coffee.”
It takes Kei about half a second to make his decision. I’m not getting any work done anyway. “Sure.”
~
“You didn’t have to pay for my drink, y’know,” Kei says, popping the lid off of his to-go cup and blowing on his steaming hot chocolate.
“You’re twenty-six and you still order cocoa instead of coffee,” Kuroo says with a chuckle as he and Kei sit at a table by the window. “You’re too adorable for me to not buy your drink.”
Kei scowls. “You don’t have to patronize me.”
“I’m sorry,” Kuroo says, still laughing a little but sounding sincere. “I didn’t mean it like that, really.”
After a moment longer of frowning in disapproval, Kei sighs and gives up. “S’fine.”
“So.” Kuroo clears his throat quickly to brush past the moment. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I already told you about my job-”
“Aside from your job.”
Kei blanks out for a moment, because shit, what is there besides his job? “Uh... I share an apartment with my best friend, Yamaguchi... I have an older brother who visits sometimes... I... uh...”
“Wow, your life really revolves around music, huh?” Kuroo asks with a smile.
Kei immediately gets defensive. “Hey, I-”
“I don’t mean it as a bad thing!” Kuroo corrects. “Mine completely used to, too, and I wish it still could. I like that about you. It’s something we have in common.”
Kei looks down into his drink and hopes he isn’t blushing as he tries to think of more things. “I like to go to museums,” he mutters.
“What kind of museums? Art?”
“No, no, no, like, natural history.”
“Have you been to the new one that just opened up?” Kuroo asks casually, and Kei sees where he’s going with this, but plays along anyway.
“Not yet, I’ve been busy.”
“It’s supposed to have some pretty cool exhibits,” Kuroo continues, tapping his fingers against the side of his coffee cup. “And I hear it has some really neat fossils-”
“Sure.”
Kuroo freezes. “Sure what?”
“You were gonna ask me to go with you sometime, right?” Kei asks for confirmation. “Sure.”
“Really?” Kuroo sits up straighter in his chair and jostles the table, nearly sending Kei’s hot chocolate sloshing over the side of his cup.
Kei shrugs. “I like fossils.”
“When are you free?”
“Anytime’s fine,” Kei says. “I have a really flexible schedule.”
“Um... How’s Saturday?”
“Saturday’s great.”
Kuroo bites his lip to hold back a smile. “Alright then. Saturday.”
“What about you?” Kei asks, hiding his own smile by taking a sip of his drink that’s just barely cool enough to avoid burning his tongue. “What’s your life outside of music?”
“Well, like I said, I work at a publishing company-”
“And what do you do there?”
“I work in production,” Kuroo explains. “I pretty much just manage a handful of people from other departments to make sure everything’s finished when it needs to be.”
“That’s not so bad.”
Kuroo just hums.
“Keep going,” Kei says. “So that’s your job. What about friends, family...?”
“Not much of a family... I only really see my parents for holidays and I don’t have any siblings or anything. But my friends are great! I room with my best friend too, that’s Kenma, and then there’s Bokuto and Akaashi from work who make the job tolerable - they’re also totally into each other and I’m focusing harder on making that happen than I am my actual job.”
Kei smirks. “Maybe you should have gotten into matchmaking instead of publishing.”
“Eh, publishing wasn’t really my own choice, I had to have Kenma pull some strings for me to get that job,” Kuroo explains. “I was already pretty far down the professional musician path when I had my injury and I didn’t have a lot of other options.”
“Oh.”
Kuroo sighs. “Yeah.”
“Well, keep going,” Kei repeats.
“There isn’t much else to say,” Kuroo mumbles, going for a sip of his coffee.
“C’mon, I haven’t been able to turn any of your interests into a date yet.”
And Kuroo starts choking on his coffee.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Kei says with a laugh that probably didn’t sound sorry at all. “I was teasing! Christ, I didn’t think you’d start choking.”
“M’fine,” Kuroo wheezes. “Really. I’m great. Everything’s great. How’s that piece you’re composing coming along?”
“Better,” Kei says. “But still not good.”
“Yeah?” Kuroo asks, still coughing a little but trying to cover it up.
“Yeah, I decided to add this huge cello solo, but something about it still just sounds off, and-”
“I can help you,” Kuroo interrupts, sitting up and leaning forward eagerly.
“Oh, Kuroo-san, you don’t have to-”
“No, really!” he insists, and his eyes are wide and full of a kind of light that Kei hasn’t seen in him before. It’s something like... hope. “I would love to help you with this, Tsukki! I mean, I can even just bring my cello to your place and play things out for you, if that would help!”
Kei hesitates, because that would be enormously helpful not only to hear the solo performed on an actual cello before writing out a draft, but also just having Kuroo around... Something about him just made Kei want to write music again. Something about him was just inspiring. But...
“Wouldn’t that hurt your elbow?” Kei asks. “I thought you couldn’t play anymore.”
“Oh, this is nothing,” Kuroo assures him. “It’s not joining a symphony, it’s playing through some melodies to help you write a song. I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so...”
Kuroo gives a huge grin and Kei’s heart flutters. “So you’ll let me help you?” Kuroo asks.
Kei nods. “Okay. That’d be really great. Thank you.”
“When can I start?”
“Oh, uh, just whenever you have time-”
“I can stop by after work today,” Kuroo offers.
Kei’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today?”
“Yeah, today’s great for me,” Kuroo insists. “What do you say?”
“That’d be nice,” Kei says with a smile he doesn’t try to hide. “Speaking of work, when are you supposed to get back?”
Kuroo checks his watch and immediately stands up. “Now, shit, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer-”
“It’s fine,” Kei assures him. “I’ll text you my address, okay?”
“Perfect,” Kuroo says, and as he heads to the door, he stops and swoops down to plant the quickest kiss on Kei’s cheek before continuing on his way. “I’ll see you tonight, Tsukki!”
Kei just stops and slowly lifts his hand to his cheek to touch the warm spot where Kuroo’s lips had been.
“You can’t just do that and leave,” Kei grumbles to himself as he goes back to his cup of hot chocolate.
~
Kuroo shows up at his apartment with a bag of takeout in his hand and a huge cello case over his shoulder.
“Hey, Tsukki,” he says with a smile, looking completely unembarrassed that he kissed Kei on the cheek just a few hours ago. He just seems excited to play music.
So Kei pretends it never happened. “Hello, Kuroo-san,” he responds politely as he lets Kuroo inside. He can’t help but notice that Kuroo just sort of looks like he belongs in this apartment, how comfortable he looks dropping off his cello by the piano, how at home he looks unpacking his takeout on Kei’s table, how beautiful he looks in the soft glow of the sunset coming in through Kei’s windows...
“Have you had dinner yet?” Kuroo asks, snapping Kei out of his thoughts. “I got some extra food, just in case.”
Kei suddenly feels guilty about the instant noodles he just finished before Kuroo’s arrival.
“It’s alright if you have,” Kuroo laughs at Kei’s startled expression. “I’ll just leave it in your fridge and you can have it whenever.”
“Okay,” Kei says quietly. He walks over to the piano because he doesn’t know what else he should say. “Do you want to hear what I have so far?”
Kei glances back at Kuroo just as a big smile spreads over his face, and Kei’s stomach dips. “I’d love to,” he says, and Kei forgets what Kuroo’s talking about for half a second.
Turning back to the piano, Kei sits down and straightens up his sheet music, making sure the pages are in the right order and that he’s scribbled in the most recent changes. Then he takes a breath to clear his head, and he begins to play.
Kei doesn’t like writing slow music. He has never liked unnecessarily slow, indulgent pieces that just felt like one pretty chord after the other. They’re nice to listen to, sure; writing music that was nice to listen to was relatively easy. But there are a thousand pieces out there already like that, and they just have no emotion. Good music, well, proper, good music, should make people feel things, it should remind them of old feelings or forgotten memories. It should make them feel nostalgic or sorrowful or excited, it should make them feel passionate or powerful or vulnerable. Good music takes people back to important moments in their lives. Good music reminds people what it’s like to feel.
And up until now, Kei only ever felt proud of his fast music. He wrote pieces that felt like summer and pieces that felt like thunderstorms and pieces that felt like exciting beginnings, all of them with quick tempos and fast notes, and those had been his favorites. His attempts at slow pieces just felt like pretty chords on a page.
But this piece... This new piece, the one he started on Kuroo’s hand but worked and reworked over and over and over... It’s slow. It’s slow, but it’s purposeful, it’s steady, it’s constant... There’s a constant motion in the sound, there are rises and falls in the dynamics, there are little pauses and unexpected moments...
It makes Kei think of taking the train home from work and meeting a pretty stranger.
Kei wishes he had more written down, and days of work feel like absolutely nothing as he plays out the last few notes he has. The notes fade out into silence, and Kei says nothing, and Kuroo says nothing either.
He hated it, Kei thinks to himself, staring down at where his hands are still on the keys of his piano.
I knew I should’ve picked a different key.
“Tsukki,” Kuroo finally says softly, and Kei can’t bring himself to look back at him.
“Yeah?”
“That was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”
Kei freezes before slowly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely,” Kuroo insists. “That was so... I don’t even know, I’m speechless.”
Kei’s face feels so warm. “Do you still want to help me with the cello part?”
“I don’t even know what I could contribute. It’s absolutely perfect.”
“Now you’re just exaggerating,” Kei mumbles.
“Food can wait,” Kuroo announces, and he abandons his takeout to start unpacking his cello.
“Wait, Kuroo-san, you don’t have to-”
“I insist,” Kuroo interrupts, setting himself up a chair next to the piano bench.
“Oh, hang on, I have a music stand somewhere,” Kei says, standing up quickly to go look for it so Kuroo wouldn’t just have to look over his shoulder the whole time.
“Alright, that’d be great,” Kuroo says as he starts tuning.
Kei immediately stops. “Wait, do you want me to play an A for you?”
“I think I can still do it by ear. Thank you, though!”
Calm down, Kei tells himself as he goes to dig through a closet for a music stand. You’re getting frantic. Calm down.
Kei finds the old music stand wedged between the back wall of the closet and a couple of suitcases, and when he comes back to the piano, Kuroo’s finishing up tuning, and even just that sounds absolutely gorgeous. Kei’s not sure he’s ever heard such a warm, clear tone like Kuroo’s before.
“Excuse me, I’m a little rusty,” Kuroo apologizes with a chuckle when he sees Kei come back.
Kei snorts as he sets up Kuroo’s stand for him. “Are you saying that you used to sound better than this?”
“I’m flattered, Tsukki,” Kuroo says, grinning. “But yeah, I really did. Would you mind playing an A now?”
Kei plays an A, Kuroo plays an A, and it’s impeccably in tune.
“At least my ear’s still good,” Kuroo sighs. “Alright. What am I playing?”
~
Writing music with Kuroo, the hours fly by, and before Kei knows it, five o’clock has turned to eleven, and they need to stop playing before the neighbors start to complain.
“This late and your roommate’s not back yet?” Kuroo asks as he gently puts his cello back into its case.
“Nah, Yamaguchi stays at her girlfriend’s place most of the time these days,” Kei said, pulling the cover over the piano keys.
“Oh, ‘her’?” Kuroo repeats. “I’d assumed your roommate was another guy.”
“Nope,” Kei said, shuffling all his sheet music into a neat pile. “But she’s not a girl, either. Like... She describes it as being both. Genderfluid. I think I’m explaining that right...”
“I get it,” Kuroo says, pausing to look up at Kei. “My roommate, Kenma? They’re agender, so I guess they’re neither.”
Kei just gives a soft smile, because he can’t help but be relieved that Kuroo does understand. If he hadn’t at least been willing to understand, it would’ve been a deal breaker, and Kei already has it so bad for Kuroo, that would’ve been the disappointment of the century.
“So you just have this place to yourself most the time?” Kuroo asks, going back to his cello.
“Yup.”
“Must be nice.” Kuroo smiles to himself. “Your apartment’s great.”
“Yeah, I like it here,” Kei says, shaking thoughts like You could stay over anytime you like right out of his head. “Kinda sucks when I find a spider and there’s no one to kill it, though.”
Kuroo laughs. “Next time that happens, give me a call and I’ll take come take care of it, anytime.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Kei said, even when he knew he wouldn’t just out of embarrassment.
Just before Kuroo leaves, he stops and turns to Kei again. “Hey, Tsukki, I... I wanted to apologize,” he says. “For earlier, back at the coffee shop, when I... kissed you.”
Well, there goes pretending it never happened. “Why are you apologizing?”
Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck. “It was just kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, I wasn’t really thinking, I was just... excited, I guess.”
Kei just nodded. “It’s fine, Kuroo-san.”
“It is?”
“Yeah, I...” Kei looks down at this shoes. “I didn’t mind.”
“Oh. Uh, good, then.” Kei glances back up at Kuroo and he’s trying not to smile. “I, uh...” Kuroo clears his throat, but he still can’t stop smiling. “I had a really nice time tonight, Kei.”
“I did, too,” Kei says, and it suddenly strikes him how badly he wants to kiss Kuroo.
“When can I come back?” Kuroo asks. Kei loves the way he says it, when can I come back, like he can’t wait to be with Kei again, like he’s as eager to write music together again as Kei is. It’s not “we should” or “maybe” or “if.” It’s “when.”
“You can come back tomorrow, if you want,” Kei tells him.
Kuroo raises his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yeah. You were a huge help.” And I really, really love having you around.
Kuroo’s smile goes sheepish. “I actually can’t come after work tomorrow, I have plans, but I’m free Thursday. And I can still take you for coffee tomorrow during my break, if you want,” he adds quickly.
“I’ll let you pay for my hot chocolate again,” Kei teases.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kuroo says. He pauses for a moment, like he wants to say or do something more, and Kei can only hope and pray he’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” he says before heading out the door.
“Goodnight, Kuroo-san,” Kei calls after him. He closes the door and walks back to the piano and traces his fingers over the glossy black surface.
Then he sinks down to the floor, hugging his knees and hiding a huge, embarrassing grin that no one was around to see.
~
Weeks pass like this, with Kei meeting up with Kuroo for coffee or music or both every day of the week. They even decided to postpone their museum date, instead choosing to spend all day side by side at Kei’s piano, just writing. Sometimes Kuroo brings takeout, sometimes Kei cooks (and a majority of those times, Kuroo had to step in and fix Kei’s mediocre cooking), and sometimes they order pizza and argue over who should pay (they end up splitting it, more often than not). It’s just about the only break they take, stopping to eat, and they just talk and laugh about anything and everything.
And every moment together just makes Kei feel like they’re getting closer and closer. Kei has never trusted anyone so quickly as he’s starting to trust Kuroo. He’s never liked anyone so much as he likes Kuroo.
And he’s never laughed so hard as he did when it took him over an hour to realize that the melody Kuroo played for him today is just a slow, slight variation of the theme from Super Mario, after Kei already wrote it down into the score and everything.
“I cannot believe you, Kuroo Tetsurou,” Kei says with a sigh, finally getting a hold of himself, and wiping tears from under his glasses.
Kuroo’s laughter is finally dying down, too. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”
“God, now I have to go back and erase it all,” Kei grumbles, grabbing his pencil and hunting for the melody.
“I’ll make you some tea as an apology,” Kuroo says, standing up and heading for the kitchen. Kei is about to offer to do it himself, but Kuroo knows where everything is, so there isn’t really any point.
Then Kuroo shouts suddenly, and before Kei can even turn around, there’s a mug shattering on his kitchen floor and Kuroo is cursing under his breath.
When Kei does turn around, Kuroo is just standing there, clutching his elbow in pain.
And Kei knows exactly what’s wrong.
This is my fault.
“Kuroo...” he murmurs.
“Tsukki, it’s fine-”
“Why didn’t you say that your elbow was hurting?” Kei asked, standing up and hurrying to have a look at Kuroo’s elbow.
Kuroo sucks in a breath through his teeth as soon as Kei touches him, and it absolutely kills Kei, but still Kuroo says, “It’s not that bad, I-”
“‘Not that bad’?” Kei interrupts. “Right, because not being able to reach for something without pain is ‘not that bad’.”
“Tsukki-”
“I can’t believe I made you do this,” Kei whispers, wanting to reach out for Kuroo again but not wanting to hurt him. He laced his fingers together just to give himself something to do with his hands. “God, I’m so, so sorry, Kuroo-”
“Tsukki, you didn’t make me do anything,” Kuroo insists. “I did this because I wanted to.”
Kei just shakes his head. “We should stop doing this, I’ll finish the song by myself.”
Kuroo just blinks. “W-what?”
“I don’t want to be the reason you hurt yourself-”
“Tsukki, please,” Kuroo says quietly, and he sounds like he wants to cry. “I just want to play again.”
Kei’s heart felt like it was breaking. “Can we at least call it a day for today?” he asks, because it’s the only thing he can think to say.
Kuroo pauses before nodding and pressing a kiss to Kei’s cheek. “Okay.”
“Do you need anything for your elbow?” Kei asks. “Ice or a bandage or something?”
Kuroo lifts his good arm and rests a hand on Kei’s shoulder, kissing his cheek a second time. “You’re adorable.”
Kei frowns. “That’s not an answer.”
“I’m fine,” Kuroo assures him, leaving a third kiss and this time lingering just a breath away from Kei’s face. “I promise.”
Kuroo’s face looks so beautiful this close... Kei doesn’t know how he’s come to care about Kuroo so, so much in such a short amount of time, and part of him is still afraid to touch him, but he is so, so beautiful...
“H-hey, Kuroo...” Kei asked, tentatively putting his hands on Tetsurou’s chest. He could feel Tetsurou’s heart beating faster and faster. He wishes he could own that heart the way Tetsurou has started to completely own his.
“Yes?” Tetsurou asks.
“Can I...?”
Tetsurou’s face starts to turn pink and his eyes go wide as he realizes where Kei is going with this. “I-I should probably clean up the mug,” he says, suddenly getting shy and taking a step back.
“Wait,” Kei says quickly, reaching after him and grabbing his arm.
His bad arm. Tetsurou grimaces and lets out a groan in pain.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” Now Kei takes a step back from Tetsurou. “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“God, you’re so cute,” Tetsurou breathes as he cups Kei’s face in his hand and kisses him.
It’s like time just stops, like the entire universe has just ceased to exist outside of Kei’s kitchen, outside of Tetsurou’s hands and Tetsurou’s lips. Kei’s heart feels so full, his chest doesn’t seem like it’s enough to contain it. All he can do is put his hands on Tetsurou’s waist and gently pull him closer, all he can do is kiss back, all he can do is focus on Tetsurou and hope he doesn’t completely drown.
It’s just happiness. Kissing Tetsurou is happiness.
Kei tightens his arms around Tetsurou’s waist. Tetsurou lets out a soft sigh before deepening the kiss, and Kei just sinks into it, sinks into Tetsurou’s touch and the warmth blooming in his chest and into the sound of the song playing in Kei’s head. It’s not something he could play on piano or even hum, it’s something much more abstract than any actual melody.
Everything, from the soft sound of their lips coming together over and over to the quiet hum from Tetsurou to the sound of Kei’s own heart pounding in his ears, is music. Even soundless things, the softness of Tetsurou’s lips, the warmth of his hands against Kei’s skin, the gentleness he has as he pulls Kei in closer, are music.
Kissing Tetsurou is music.
Tetsurou is music.
Kei moves one of his arms slightly and accidentally bumps Tetsurou’s elbow, causing him to break off the kiss and involuntary hiss in pain.
“I’m sorry,” Kei says quickly. The song in his head goes silent as panic starts to set in. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry-”
“No, no, no, no, no, more kissing,” Tetsurou interrupts, pulling Kei back in before he has the chance to fuss anymore.
Kei smirks against Tetsurou’s lips for a moment before kissing him back. And he’s so happy, God, he’s so happy...
~
Kei doesn’t know how he’s lucky enough to be dating the human incarnation of music, but he is.
Tetsurou is forced to play his cello significantly less because of his elbow, but he seems strangely content to just sit beside Kei at his piano, sometimes giving suggestions and opinions and other times just sitting and listening to Kei play.
By the time Kei finishes the song, it’s by far his favorite thing he’s ever written. It sounds like Tetsurou and everything that made Kei fall for him. Just playing through the song from beginning to end feels like falling in love all over again. It feels so personal and Kei has put so much of himself into it, he’s absolutely terrified when he has to send it off to be printed.
What if it doesn’t sell well?
What if everyone else hates it?
What if these last few months have been a waste of time?
Every time Kei doubts himself, Tetsurou reassures him tenfold how amazing the song is, how proud he is of Kei for writing it, how lucky he feels to have been apart of the process, and even if it doesn’t convince Kei entirely that the song is any good, it convinces him that these last few months with Tetsurou could never have been a waste.
~
“You look wonderful,” Tetsurou says, dusting off the shoulder of Kei’s tuxedo before taking his arm as they walked into the concert hall.
“Good, because I feel horrible,” Kei mumbles.
He’s about to hear the piece performed live by a full orchestra for the first time, in front of an enormous concert hall full of people, and he’s never been so anxious. It’s a much bigger venue than when he saw Suga conduct “On the Wing of a Raven,” and it’s a more prestigious orchestra performing, with another old college friend of Tsukishima’s conducting.
If Kageyama messes the piece up, I’m never going to forgive him.
“It’s going to be fine,” Tetsurou assures him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s a beautiful piece. Everyone is going to absolutely love it, just like I do.”
Kei just takes a deep breath and prays Tetsurou is right.
It feels like everyone has turned up to come and listen, as well. Before the concert begins, Kei is running from conversation to conversation, starting with Tetsurou’s roommate, Kenma, and moving on to finally meeting Bokuto and Akaashi, Tetsurou’s work friends (who are somehow still not dating, which Tetsurou finds infinitely frustrating). From there, Kei is greeted loudly by Hinata, who came to see Kageyama conduct and didn’t realize until he saw the program that a piece of Kei’s was being performed. Yamaguchi and Yachi thankfully only stopped for a quick hello before going to find their seats in the concert hall, and Kei is free to take Tetsurou’s hand and find their own seats.
Looking at the program for the evening, Kei feels a fresh wave of nerves as he sees his own name at the bottom of the list.
“I still can’t believe what you named the piece,” Tetsurou says quietly, and Kei finally relaxes as he cracks a smile.
“I wouldn’t name it anything else,” Kei insists, giving Tetsurou’s hand a squeeze.
The lights start dimming and the hall goes silent in anticipation. Kei no longer feels relaxed.
Tetsurou squeezes his hand back before lifting their clasped hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to Kei’s fingers, and it helps, just a little.
~
Kei can’t stand the murmurs he hears when his piece is up next.
“I haven’t heard of this before...”
“Tsukishima Kei? He wrote ‘On the Wing of a Raven’, didn’t he?”
“‘Iron Cheerfulness’, huh? I wonder what that’s supposed to mean.”
Tetsurou, Kei things to himself, clinging to Tetsurou’s hand tightly enough that it’s probably painful, but Tetsurou says nothing. It’s Tetsurou.
Please don’t hate it.
The hall goes silent just as Kageyama raises his arms to start conducting the piece.
After a moment of stillness, Kageyama turns to the cello soloist and cues their first note. Kei can’t breathe as he focuses on nothing at all but listening.
(The cello sounds lovely, but Kei has heard that solo played better.)
The entire time, Kei can’t tell if it’s going by in a blur or if it’s taking a thousand years to get through the piece, but it seems to be going well... None of the musicians are making noticeable errors. The sound of the orchestra is gorgeous. Kei almost forgets to be anxious about everyone’s reactions a few times, so caught up in how proud he is of the piece and even more caught up in how much it fills his chest with the same feeling Tetsurou does.
Still, as the last few notes finally flow by, Kei again physically can’t breathe waiting for everyone’s reactions.
Kageyama draws out the last note, letting it fade out quieter and quieter until the hall is so silent, you could hear a pin drop, and after staying still for a moment that seems to last for forever, he relaxes and lowers his arms. There’s another beat of silence.
Then the audience all simultaneously bursts into absolutely deafening applause.
Tetsurou is laughing and Kei is close to crying as everyone around him starts standing up as they clap and cheer.
“A standing ovation!” Tetsurou shouts victoriously, throwing an arm around Kei’s shoulders. “You’re getting a stand ovation! They love it! It was perfect!”
Kei does start crying a little, a few tears running down his cheeks. Tetsurou quickly wipes them away and kisses Kei’s cheek.
Kageyama and the rest of the orchestra take their bow and clear off stage, but the audience doesn’t even start to get quieter until the house lights are turned back on, and only then do they start to relax.
“That was beautiful!”
“I almost cried at how well the cello part was written.”
“Best thing I’ve heard in a long time!”
Kei starts crying harder. He covers his face with his hands while Tetsurou leans over in his seat and wraps his arms around him, gently murmuring, “I’m so proud of you, Kei.”
Kei sniffles. “I can’t stop crying,” he grumbles miserably. Tetsurou just laughs.
~
Kei is pulled into a thousand more conversations once he gets a hold of himself and walks with Tetsurou out into the lobby. Most are with strangers who heard that he was the composer of that last piece, but he also talks to Kageyama, Hinata stops by to tell him how “GWAH!” the piece was, and Yamaguchi shouts a loud, “Tsukki!” before running over to tell Kei how much she and Yachi liked the song. Even Bokuto and Akaashi come by to congratulate him. Bokuto takes Akaashi’s hand in his as the two walk away and Tetsurou smacks Kei’s arm.
“I can’t believe it,” he says. “I have been trying to get them together for forever and all it took them was listening to your song.”
Kei rolls his eyes at Tetsurou, because surely it wasn’t just the song, but he can’t help but notice there’s a little more PDA in the lobby in general than there had been before the performance.
“C’mon,” Tetsurou says quietly before Kei can be dragged into another conversation, taking Kei’s arm and leading him outside into the cool night air.
Tetsurou sighs contently. “Well... that went well, huh?”
Kei just shakes his head and gives a soft smile before wrapping his arms around Tetsurou’s neck and kissing him. “Thank you so much,” he murmurs.
“For what?”
“For everything,” Kei says, almost laughing at how much Tetsurou has done for him. “For...” Kei takes one of Tetsurou’s hands and kisses the center of his palm. “For letting me write down a few chords on your hand.”
Tetsurou looks positively touched as he leans in for more kisses. “It was my absolute pleasure, Tsukishima Kei.”
Kei rests his forehead against Tetsurou’s. “Hey, Tetsurou.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to spend the night at my place?”
Tetsurou raises his eyebrows. “Tonight?”
“Yeah.”
Tetsurou gives a soft smile. “Okay.”
Kei presses another kiss to his lips, and the feeling is just as intoxicating as it was the first time.
“Did you want us to...” Tetsurou grins in a way that can lead nowhere good. “Make a little music?”
“Ugh,” Kei groans at the obvious, pathetically lame innuendo. “If I did, I don’t now.”
Tetsurou laughs. “Kei, wait-”
“I changed my mind, you can’t come over.”
“Kei-”
“I’m changing the name of the song.”
Tetsurou just pulls Kei back in and kisses him, long and slow and enough to make Kei forget his own name, let alone whatever lame thing Tetsurou said.
When Tetsurou pulls away, he just looks at Kei expectantly.
“You can still come over,” Kei grumbles.
Tetsurou laughs. “I adore you, you know that?”
Kei just sighs and takes Tetsurou’s hand in his as he walks toward the straight to hail a cab. “So you say, but which of us wrote a whole song about the other?”
~
There’s a tune stuck in Kei’s head as he rides home in a taxi, Kuroo Tetsurou’s head resting against his shoulder.
And it’s absolutely beautiful.