Chapter Text
He could bear living with his older brother, Akiteru. He could bear his college roommate, Yamaguchi. He was not sure at all if he had the patience to handle living with Kuroo Tetsurou. He’d only seen a picture Bokuto had showed him, but he already got a good idea of his nature. Tsukishima figured he was the type of guy to prefer cats over dogs and nighttime over dawn. He was probably noisy and nonsensical, and slept like a log. He could have some weird hidden talents, too. Like picking things up with his toes or having delicate and neat handwriting. By the look of his build, his arms and legs, he was strong. The smirk on his face was suggestive and quite annoying; Tsukishima wondered if it was his neutral expression. He also found Kuroo’s hair strange and unruly. He had black hair, cut sharply and unevenly. Parts of it curved upwards, with a side bang covering his right eye. His eyes, though half-lidded (the explanation for seeming mischievous), were dark and full of character.
That was his first assessment of Kuroo, just by looking at the picture. He wasn’t the only one in the picture either; there was Bokuto and a shorter, placid boy with bleached hair and a handheld gaming system in his hands. He wondered about the boy.
This was normal for Tsukishima. He would observe people and wonder about them based on their looks, surroundings and actions. He was never the type to shout or talk at all, but he always said something if it mattered or if it was a sarcastic joke. He was honest, even though most of the time brutally so. He didn’t easily show emotion, though one could see his frustration and pleasure at times. The only person aside from his family who noticed these aspects of him was Yamaguchi, whom he rarely called by his first name, Tadashi. They’d been friends since high school and met when Yamaguchi was trying to help the upperclassmen recruit more people for their school’s book club. It went something like this:
“Hi, um, you like reading, don’t you?” he fumbled.
Tsukishima glared at him. “Why do you think I like to read? My glasses?”
“No, um, I see you read on the rooftop every lunch break.”
After more pushing and coercing, he had successfully recruited him. Soon enough, instead of declaring their friendship, the two were just around each other so much that people considered Yamaguchi his other half and vice versa. Somehow, someway, Yamaguchi had cracked Tsukishima’s outer defense wall just a bit. Even if he wouldn’t admit it (because he really wouldn’t), he appreciated the green-haired, freckled boy’s company.
The very thing that brought them together, the book club, became his place of peace. The club room was a comfortable size and had three tall bookshelves. He sat next to the window at the far end of the long wooden table in the middle of the room. The rest of the members sat at the other end so as to not disturb him, because one of the conditions Yamaguchi offered him if he were to join was that he would not have to participate in group discussions. He could tell he was definitely not the sociable type. Overall, the window view was beautiful, and no one disturbed him while he read.
Another thing he wouldn’t admit: his intelligence. He was no Einstein, mind you, but he earned excellent scores on his exams. In college it was more difficult to get an “A” in every subject, but he managed to hold his own.
He and Yamaguchi ended up going to the same college (a plan of the latter). It was some unfathomable fate that led them to the same dorm room. Yamaguchi originally had a room to himself, but Tsukishima had been assigned to an already full room. Being roommates was his wake-up-call to how much he didn’t like people. Yamaguchi was unexpectedly sloppy, and failed to wake up at the time he set on his alarm. He was the king of all heavy sleepers.
They’d went to their first college party together, where Tsukishima (Yamaguchi was attempting to flirt with girls) met the host, Bokuto. His first impression of him was when he was drunk, so Bokuto has always regretted how they first met. He had dark hair with silver throughout and golden eyes, his appearance reflecting that of an owl. He had a large mouth, one for talking profusely. He wasn’t as difficult to be around as Tsukishima had initially thought. He was friendly, and made good conversation for the time being as he repressed his drunkenness. This proved to be difficult later on when they began spin the bottle. An iconic, ridiculous party game in which Tsukishima reluctantly kissed a guy for the first time. He wasn’t as disturbed as he thought he’d be, and the entire situation was strange, but he went with it. He knew you could only do these stupid things only a few times in your life.
After this, according to Bokuto, he and Tsukishima hit it off. He tutored him, they went off-campus together, and Tsukishima listened to the old owl’s complaints about his friendships or relationships. This was pretty much their relationship even after college, more or less.
The apartment came into discussion when, over coffee, Tsukishima mentioned that he was still currently at Yamaguchi's house and he did not feel like continuing the arduous task of being Yamaguchi’s roommate. Bokuto had followed with explaining that his “best friend since forever,” Kuroo, had an empty room. His old roommate had left for a business offer in America. Bokuto then showed him a picture of Kuroo, and Tsukishima tried to picture living with him. However it was no use. It was one of those things that you could only see when it actually happened. Like a comet, or an eclipse. At least to him, you cannot picture something you cannot comprehend.
“So. We can talk about the finances and business-y stuff later. Right now I want to know something. Kuroo is not the best person. He especially isn’t the best person to live with for long periods of time,” said Bokuto.
“It’s only until I find something else.”
“Still. You’re going to live with him for the time being. I want to make sure . . . that you know what you’re doing. As your friend and his, I don’t want you to step into this if you’re not sure.” Bokuto definitely had his moments.
Tsukishima gulped down the rest of his black coffee. “I’m sure,” he said, “Don’t worry too much.”
“Alright, then. It’s settled.”
***
Currently he stood at the front door. The apartment number, 111, was a dubious number. He sighed and rang the doorbell. He flinched at the sound, as it sounded like the meowing of a cat. This guy was weird. For sure.
The door opened up and now facing him was none other than Kuroo Tetsurou. He seemed somewhat different in real life from what he saw in the photograph. His hair was longer, his eyes fatigued, and his skin slightly darker. He was clearly growing a beard and moustache, though it may have been the result of laziness to shave. His back, hunched over like an old man, bothered Tsukishima. He’d seen his grandfather with back problems, and they weren’t nice to him.
“You are?” he asked, his voice low and grumpy.
“Tsukishima Kei. Your new roommate.”
“Ah? Koutarou sent me a megane-kun?”
“Yes,” he muttered, “he sent you a megane-kun.”
“Anyway, come in. I was just making breakfast.” He motioned for him to come in.
Tsukishima walked inside with his two suitcases and duffel bag. He thought, Breakfast? It’s two o’clock. But then he thought otherwise, because he already figured the guy had to be this weird. Incidentally, he liked the place. The burgundy walls matched the dark wood floor. Overall it was brighter than he expected, with the kitchen in the corner being the brightest area. The hallway at the right expanded down and ended after the third door. Two rooms and a bathroom. In front was the living area, with a worn out black sofa and a brown recliner. A tall bookshelf stood behind it, next to the windows. A round, wide wooden table was in the middle of the area, in front of the television. Tsukishima figured it must have been his alternative of a dining table with chairs.
“The sofa is mine, and the recliner is yours,” he stated.
“Okay.” He left his bags at the mouth of the hallway and sat in the recliner, watching Kuroo place the food in the table one by one. He turned on the television to a reality show. He didn’t watch TV often, because nothing interested him. He liked his PC games and books.
On the table was miso soup, rice, grilled tuna, more rice, buttered toast, and more grilled tuna. As Kuroo sat with his legs crossed by the table, Tsukishima got down from the recliner and did the same. “Itadakimasu,” they said.
Tsukishima was surprised by how delicious the food tasted. Of course, he didn’t show his surprise, but Kuroo caught on by the pace at which he chewed. “Is it that good?”
He was uncomfortable with giving outright praise, but he showed respect for people who could cook well. He only shrugged in response. As he’d suspected, his roommate had some unexpected talents.
Kuroo eyed him knowingly. “You’re a quiet type, huh?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. My last roommate was quiet too.”
“Oh.” The way both Bokuto and Kuroo talked about this mysterious roommate person couldn’t be any more secretive. They literally clothed the person in mystery, as if the person’s existence left a bad mark on their bodies.
“Yeah. But it seems like you’ll be more fun to mess with,” he chuckled.
Tsukishima did not like the way that sounded. But he let it slide, since he was in the midst of eating. He didn’t like to be bothered with being worried or whatever while doing something he liked. “Awesome,” he replied sarcastically.
“Okay, so, first order of business. Sleep times, shower times, work.” Kuroo took more rice out of the cooker and devoured it at an inhuman speed.
“Um, I like to go to bed at eleven the latest. I take showers at night. And I’m a florist.”
He stopped eating and raised his eyebrows. “Hmm. It seems we have the same preferences. But a florist? Really?”
Tsukishima frowned. “And? What about it . . .?”
“No, no. You just don’t strike me as the type of guy to be interested in flowers. When I heard about you from Koutarou, I pictured you as a librarian or an actor or something.”
He almost laughed. Those were two entirely different careers. “Well, I’m neither. More people buy flowers than you’d think.”
He meant to continue and ask what his work was, but he started talking about living arrangements again. “Okay, then. I’ll cook breakfast and you’ll cook dinner. Sometimes I’ll feel like ordering pizza or noodles. Cool?”
“I guess.”
“Now, the chores. You can take out the trash whenever you feel like it. I’m in charge of recycling my Jump magazines. I don’t like cleaning, but I’ll do whatever you tell me to. Only during the weekends. I have better things to do during the week.”
“Sounds fine to me.” Tsukishima was not taken aback by his leniency and his basic disregard for anything, really. This stuff he figured as soon as he walked in.
“Good. However, don’t go in my room. Or look into it. Ever. Especially if I’m there.” Kuroo’s tone turned dark enough to stop Tsukishima from eating. It was a strange, reversed preference. “And don’t interfere with the way I live my life. Got it?”
“Okay.” He couldn’t quite get any other words out from his mouth. Suspicion probably clouded his mind as much as curiosity did. It was like how someone tells you not to look at something, and that just makes you want to look at it. But then you do, and you regret it forever. He sat, silent, secretly wanting to go back up on the recliner. Now his recliner. He watched Kuroo’s hands move as he picked up the food to eat. He wondered about what he, not his hands, has been through. Of course, a guy like this had to have a secret. A guy like this had to be distant and a bit abrasive. He should have known. But now he wanted to know just why he couldn’t see his room. Just what in the world could be the reason for his personality?
“Ah, megane-kun, can you pass the soy sauce?”