Chapter Text
03-17 . 07:02
Tsukki–
Did you get a concussion on your ski trip last week?
Tsukishima Kei worried at his lower lip. Okay, this was off to a worse start than he had anticipated upon opening his email this morning.
I can only assume that is why you decided to move your second act up so early and scrap the character arc that’s been building for the last hundred pages. Send me what you have by tomorrow and I’ll mock up a few narrative alternatives that don’t scream, “I forgot how to write a bestseller because I hurled myself down a mountainside on two rickety slabs of wood.”
Best, Yamaguchi Tadashi
Despite the nickname that Yamaguchi had bestowed upon Kei early in their working relationship– almost too early– he always signed his full name to sign off on their correspondence. Even if that correspondence was less than professional and more than a little bitchy.
Kei released his lip from where he had been biting it self-consciously, and rolled his tongue over the worn skin. He replaced one nervous habit with another and brought his third cup of coffee to his mouth, taking a swill before setting his fingers to his keyboard.
03-17 . 9:28
Yamaguchi,
If the pacing needs work, it’s because you pushed me to finish what I had before taking my trip in case I really did have an accident. It seems that there was some wishful thinking on your part. If I had known you were so eager to join me, we could have done the Act One drafts in the chalet– maybe the roaring fire would have melted the cruel chill of your editorial heart.
You’ll get your pages, and I’ll revisit Sai’s character arc. I’m assuming that’s the one you are referring to, although maybe more clarity and less snark would help me see that. Really, who is the professional here?
Tsukishima Kei
He fired off the reply before he could over-analyze that part he’d slipped in about Yamaguchi being in the chalet with him, the imagined warmth of him as they poured over notes together.
Kei clicked a finger against the porcelain of his coffee mug and wiped the thought from his mind, pulling up the working draft attachment he had last sent to his agent.
It was hardly fair to the other man that Kei had grown so attached. They barely saw each other in person, but virtually, Yamaguchi was a near constant touchpoint. A pixelated face over Zoom or a soft voice over a crackling phone line. And always, every day, a handful of electric emails.
Yamaguchi had had a hand in bringing Kei’s first two novels to light. Kei was a bigger critic of his work than his own literary agent, who was responsible for managing the manuscripts Kei tried to get off the ground. But Yamaguchi only ever picked up on the most important changes to make, delivered the most exacting advice in exactly the way Kei most needed to hear it, to really make him listen.
He was the only person who reliably communicated with Kei– and communicated with the exact wit that Kei found so very attractive, mirroring and buoyed by Kei’s own attitude, rather than being repelled as so many others were.
And, despite what this current exchange was looking like, he always managed to praise Kei in a way that got under his skin and right into his bloodstream, an infusion straight to his heart.
The chime of the email notification startled Kei from his attempt at work, and he re-opened his inbox.
03-17 . 11:32
Tsukki –
You know I’d have accepted an invitation to a swanky resort in a heartbeat– and don’t think I’m not aware of the cost! I’ve seen your installment checks ;P
Kei had mostly succeeded in training Yamaguchi out of emoticons in their early correspondence. Sometimes, though, the millennial urge slipped through the professional mask. Kei rolled his eyes fondly and continued reading.
You’ve given me an idea though… a writer’s retreat might be just what Book Three needs. I’ll talk to the publishing house about funding– leave it to me. We’ll package the proposal with the first half of the book and we’ll be set.
That is, if you are serious about inviting your favorite agent along!
Best, Yamaguchi Tadashi
P.S. Let’s go with a summer climate– we’ll leave the extreme winter sports to whatever you get up to alone, you weird adrenaline junkie. I was serious about the concussion!
Kei didn’t hesitate to hang his head in his hands and groan out loud.
“Oh, fuck,” he said.
Because here was what it really came down to: He was undeniably, and idiotically, head over heels for Yamaguchi Tadashi.
☆☆☆
Kei wasn’t sure how he managed to reply to the invitation (something in the affirmative, before he shoehorned in his updated draft and left it at that), but he managed to fret over his response for the rest of the week.
Yamaguchi seemed to take no notice that anything was off, even over the phone calls they had scheduled for debriefing, so Kei let himself breathe a little easier. Yamaguchi had said summer, after all, and he still had at least two hundred pages to go before completing the first half of his novel. That gave him some breathing room.
Kei hadn’t always wanted to be an author. As a kid, he had harbored a deep love of history, and nature, and being outside. He’d imagined himself excavating tombs or digging up archeological sites, maybe working for a museum one day. And then, he’d gotten sick for a few months in high school, and after he’d miserably played through every video game on the shelf, he decided to pick up a novel his brother brought home for him to read.
It was a Japanese translation of Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park, and it gripped him like nothing else had before. It wasn’t that it was the best that science fiction had to offer, but it was a neat alignment of Kei’s interests and this fascinating genre he hadn’t really explored before. He’d always been a logical kid, sometimes to his older brother’s dissatisfaction (as anyone who spoke to Tsukishima Akiteru for any length of time would immediately describe him as a dreamer.)
But science fiction provided enough of a safety net while still allowing for a suspension of the logic and rules Kei had planned his life around. And one day, it wasn’t enough to just read it any more. He wanted to be the one to send others on that leap of faith.
His first short stories that he’d published throughout college had failed, spectacularly. And then, one didn’t. It had given him enough stable ground to submit a query to several publishing houses, including one of the bigger ones– Karasuno Publishing Group.
Kei had given them a shaky manuscript about subaquatic time-travel, and they had given him Yamaguchi Tadashi.
And Yamaguchi had spun Kei’s first work into gold, landing him a three book deal from Karasuno and placing Kei on the back end of the bestsellers list.
And Kei had slowly but surely, in the face of their correspondence and Yamaguchi’s unwavering confidence in his abilities, fallen in love.
Kei groaned and sank his forehead onto the hard resin of the tabletop. He felt a sharp thump on his back and turned his head slightly to glare at the man attached to the offending arm.
“Be helpful or leave,” Kei grumpily bit out, only to be met with an obnoxious and uproarious laugh. It clashed with the meditative drone of the bar noise, and there was a lull in people’s conversations as they turned to locate the sound.
“Are you kidding?” Kuroo Tetsurou’s laugh ebbed into a snicker. “You haven’t paid for my drinks yet, I’m not leaving!”
Kei scrubbed at his face and reached for his own drink. “I think your royalty checks would more than cover this, asshole.”
Kuroo Tetsurou was the rare kind of author who not only got recognized on the street, but was also stopped and asked for pictures and autographs. He’d had one of his more popular novels, a gritty detective story, turned into a movie just last year.
Kei had met Kuroo through a mentorship program when a nasty case of imposter syndrome had flared after his first novel was published. He would never have gone through with the program if Yamaguchi hadn’t been the one to sign him up for it, but then, he would never have met Kuroo.
Kei would, of course, rather chew off his arm than ever admit this to Kuroo, but the other man had helped him inordinately. Not in the least because he sparked Kei’s competitive streak, and if Kuroo could be this laidback about being famous, then damn it, so could Kei.
“Not to mention,” another voice chimed in, “his husband makes more than all of us combined.”
Kuroo’s slender cheeks went red. “Akaashi! I can still have a friend treat me to drinks in exchange for some advice!”
“Stars, they’re just like us,” Kei mumbled into his glass. Akaashi’s dark features lit up in a smirk as he shared a glance with Kei, while Kuroo cooled his protestations.
“You’d better be forthcoming with the advice, then,” Akaashi continued.
“Please,” Kei added.
Kei realizing the extent of his feelings for Yamaguchi had been a hard-won ordeal. His own lovesick heart hadn’t known how to express itself, and his friends had noticed his nature souring (even more than usual) a few months ago. In a well-intentioned but almost relationship-ruining “intervention,” they had dragged out the source of Kei’s temper and realized the nature of his feelings for his agent.
Kei had expected laughter on their part, and had feared tears on his. Instead, they had all resolved to help him, as Akaashi’s fiance had put it, in his “quest for true love.”
“Oh, whatever,” Kuroo downed the rest of his pint and spun in his chair, placing his hands on Kei’s shoulders with a heavy thump. He pulled Kei in close, and Kei could smell the heady waft of beer on his breath. “Tsukishima,” he began. “You are looking at a golden opportunity, my friend.”
“I–” Kei pulled back. “That is the opposite of what I want to hear! I’ve told you, I need this relationship to be professional–”
He glanced to his right and caught Akaashi’s sharp gaze, snapped his mouth shut.
“Kei,” Kuroo breathed, and Kei whipped his eyes back to Kuroo’s bright ones at the use of his given name. “I know it’s scary, and that you think you are going to lose something. But I want you to seriously think about what you could gain. You said you have a few months, so just think on it.”
Kei’s stomach roiled– he absolutely hated it when Kuroo played up to his mentor role. He hated how competent the other man actually was at it.
“It’s difficult,” Akaashi chimed in. “When it’s a professional relationship. But it doesn’t mean it has to be the end of that– it could be the beginning of something else.”
Kei supposed Akaashi did know what he was talking about here. He was a director– in fact, he had directed Kuroo’s adaptation– but he was also engaged to an actor who starred in a number of his projects. Kei didn’t know the full story of how the two had gotten together, since he’d always known them as a pair, but Kei suspected that Akaashi’s insight was more than valuable here.
“I don’t even know how I’m supposed to look him in the eye,” he finally admitted, as Kuroo slid his hands from his shoulders with a gentle squeeze.
Kuroo’s easy grin was back. “Hell,” he said. “If the guy’s so eager to get you alone, you might not have such a difficult job as you’re imagining. You’re a catch, Tsukki.”
Kei shoved off the stool and grabbed their glasses, ready for another round. “I should never have told you that,” he growled.
But as he turned for the bar, he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter.
05-12 . 14:07
Tsukki~
Chapter 15 is looking fantastic! Toki's motivations are coming through really clearly, and you are building a clear tension between him and Sai. I think you should push their backstories through a little more clearly in the next part to give the reader more of an understanding of their differences.
Have you given any thought to where we should have our vacation? I mean, writer’s retreat ;) We have to be able to see the water to spark your inspiration for that nautical battle you had in your outline. So excited for that, by the way. I just know this one is going to be super!
Best, Yamaguchi Tadashi
☆
05-15 . 13:37
Yamaguchi,
Thanks for the advice about clarifying the antagonist. I shouldn’t have pushed it so late in the narrative, but I’ve sent some rewrites that make things a little more clear. Let me know what you think.
On another note, I found the packing list you attached to your last email a little less helpful. Surely I don’t need to bring three tubes of sunscreen– are you planning on chaining me to a palm tree? I’m sure that breaks some kind of ethical code between author and agent– don’t make me report you.
Tsukishima Kei
☆
05-19 . 20:05
Tsukki,
I had a quick thought about Chapter 17 while in the shower, and I NEED you to tell me– are you really going to follow through with Seiko being Sai’s granddaughter? Is THAT where this is going?
Ugh! It really frustrates me how good you are at this! How am I supposed to wait for next month to watch you finish this? Are you sure you even need my help?
Call me when you see this– don’t worry about the time, I’m not doing anything. I need answers!
Tadashi
☆
05-23 . 08:27
Yamaguchi,
Just got the train tickets forwarded from the company. Did you really tell Sugawara you would need an expense card? I wish I’d been there to see his face, though I’m sure no one has ever told you “no” in your life.
I’ll be at Karasuno to sign something tomorrow, would you grab coffee with me after? It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other in person, and we should probably remember what each other’s faces look like since we’re about to get sick of them while we spend two weeks together. My treat.
Tsukishima Kei
05-23 . 08:46
Tsukki,
You’d be surprised. Swing by my office, I know a place.
Tadashi
☆☆☆
Kei signed off on the expense sheets under Sugawara Koushi’s careful watch. It was always a little unnerving to be the subject of the financial officer’s attention– he looked angelic, but Kei had heard from some of the other authors under the Karasuno name that he was actually the iron fist of this whole operation.
"Excited for the retreat?" Sugawara asked politely as he turned a page and directed Kei to stamp.
"I am," Kei said. "I anticipate we'll get a lot done."
"Yamaguchi certainly has plans for you." Kei knew what Sugawara meant, but he still felt his cheeks grow warm as he stamped the last line.
Kei bowed his head and lifted a hand in farewell, hoping he was hiding his embarrassment well. There was no hiding the way his heart beat a little faster, though, as he turned left down the hall in the direction of the editorial department.
Most literary agents were freelance, but Karasuno prided itself on a model of offering support to their signed authors at every stage, so they had a wing of their editorial department dedicated to this purpose. Still, it was only a small cluster of offices, and it didn’t take Kei long to arrive at Yamaguchi’s cubicle.
Kei was tall, so he could peer over the divider as he approached, even before Yamaguchi noticed him. Yamaguchi’s desk was tidy, but still strewn with office supplies, Post-it notes, and– surprisingly– a little stuffed Akita dog, nestled near his laptop.
Yamaguchi hadn’t noticed him yet, scrolling through an open document on his computer, and Kei took a moment to steady his breathing before clearing his throat.
He hadn’t seen Yamaguchi in person since– oh God, he realized with a start– since before his romantic revelation. That was why Kei’s heart leapt into his goddamn throat the second Yamaguchi turned to meet his eyes, all tan skin and freckles and soft curls, smile lighting up his face like a summer sparkler.
Kei almost turned on his heel, literally caught his foot turning, when Yamaguchi bounced up out of the office chair.
“Hi, Tsukki!”
Kei could only nod, and hope that his mouth wasn’t hanging open. His whole lower jaw felt numb, and he realized belatedly that was because his mouth was actually tensed shut, teeth ground together.
He forced himself to relax and smiled, easing even more as Yamaguchi stepped closer– warm, bright, so bright.
“Ready to grab that drink?” Yamaguchi continued, and Kei finally forced himself to speak. He let his voice warm up with a soft huff of laughter at first, then, “You have no idea.”
“I feel that,” Yamaguchi added, reaching over to grab his phone and bag from the desk. Kei just caught the photo on the phone’s screen as the other man adjusted the strap over his shoulder– blonde hair, pretty smile– a woman. Whoever it was, Yamaguchi was in the picture with her, his arm folded protectively across her shoulders.
Kei felt his heart plummet. Shit, had Yamaguchi ever mentioned her? Was she just a friend? Or more?
“So,” Yamaguchi was starting to guide Kei toward the elevators, which he did by placing a hand on Kei’s elbow. “Tell me Suga went easy on you.”
Kei barely heard him, lost in a swirl of overthinking. If she was his girlfriend, then wasn’t this for the best? Kei had been looking for a sign to not pursue Yamaguchi for months. He had let Kuroo talk him into this so easily, had been working himself up for the better part of the last few weeks to… what, confess?
Oh god, Kei realized with stunning clarity. He had really been considering confessing to Yamaguchi.
“Hello, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi was waving a hand gently in front of Kei’s face. “Wow, was it that bad?”
They were at the elevator bank. Kei internally shook himself, and smiled at Yamaguchi. “Sorry,” he said. “I only had two cups this morning. I guess I need that coffee more than I thought.”
Yamaguchi clucked with concern. “And I need to do a better job as your agent at monitoring your caffeine. How are we going to get you at the top of the bestseller list if you die of an aneurysm before you publish?” He gasped theatrically. “How will I find out who Seiko is?”
Kei found himself chuckling, already warming under Yamaguchi’s eager confidence in him. He made it feel so easy to believe in his abilities. The elevator clicked open on the ground floor and Kei followed Yamaguchi instinctively.
They walked in easy silence to a coffee shop a few blocks over, and Kei willed his thoughts to be still. It was better to think of Yamaguchi as unavailable. This was good, actually, because now Kei really had no reason to ruin their professional relationship. He could content himself with that. He would.
They got their drinks, they took a seat. And, as Yamaguchi laughed and leaned easily into Kei’s space, sharing some conspiratorial office gossip, urged on by Kei’s smirk– Kei pretended he believed himself.