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They say that the moment you let your guard down and go out of the house in your pajamas is going to be the day that you meet the person you don’t want to meet the most.
In your defense, it was your second day of your period and you had just moved into the city. With no friends to rely on, you had only yourself to get the comfort food that your gut was killing you over.
In your second defense, you had almost never seen anyone who looked to be around your age. People were either as young as kindergarteners or older than your grandparents were.
Naturally, you let your guard down.
Especially when your favorite Korean restaurant owner was a really sweet 60-year-old woman, who was always giving you an extra side dish that should be a crime because it was the portion of an entire meal.
All the while saying, "You remind me of my daughter!"
So yeah. You were going to be dressed in your pajamas because it was only her. And you were going to order some porridge to soothe your cramps.
Even though you knew nobody in this city, after six months it was comforting to have several recognizable faces in the various local shops that lined the street.
It must be your laid-back nature, represented by your frequent outings in pajamas, that made these people feel inclined to be kind and warm to you.
You weren't complaining.
And the illuminations they had put up early on all of the trees that stood on the side of the road were the cherry on top of making you feel like the main character of a Korean drama.
Which, thinking about it now, you might as well just get fried chicken and forget about the healthy porridge.
Main characters don't eat porridges.
The only thing that goes well with fried chickens?
Beers.
Nothing like drinking your physical pain away, right?
Feeling suddenly giddy, you made an early turn toward the convenience store. It was one of those stores that connected to a drugstore.
It may have been thanks to your hormones that you suddenly got this idea to create a makeup tutorial video using only drugstore products.
Talk about two birds with one stone.
Actually, it's three birds.
Beers, check.
Make ups, check.
Now the only thing left to get was the fried chicken.
Stepping out of the convenience store after a whopping two hours, you had begun to forget about your period cramps. It was only six in the evening, but around this time of the year the sky darkened an hour faster than in summer.
At least you got to see the lights contrasting against the dark blue sky without having to stay outside until late.
It felt like, at this point, things were going so well for you. You suddenly didn’t even feel bad about sleeping until two in the afternoon because your cramps had rendered you immobile.
Getting this porridge—or now fried chicken—was going to be the only productive thing you did today after canceling numerous meetings and photoshoots with a few beauty brands.
You spent the entire hour after waking up depressed and writing emails on your phone.
Sending your apologies and trying not to make them sound too personal, because your hormones were hijacking the more logical part of your brain.
Walking toward the Korean restaurant felt like winning a race.
Seeing the banner lit up with popping lights all around it, framed perfectly, looked more enchanting than the lights on the trees.
You must have been so excited for fried chicken and beer that you stopped looking where each of your steps was landing.
With the spatial awareness of a man sitting on a train and manspreading despite it being rush hour, you nearly walked crotch-first into an oncoming bicycle.
Jolting backward to avoid it, you bumped into another person.
That was not even the end of it.
Your plastic bag filled with makeup and beer was tossed out of your hand. You couldn’t even realize you were falling until someone grabbed you by the waist and held you upright.
There went the perfect half of your day.
A beer can rolled across the street, dangerously close to a sewage gap, and you actually screamed.
I mean... how expensive was a can of beer for you to be reacting that way...?
The guy must have been having the same thoughts. But he went ahead and chased after it in long, lazy strides anyway.
At first, you expected nothing from the blonde hair and grandpa jacket.
At first, you thought he was an unbelievably tall old man.
Then he walked up to you, who were busy collecting the scattered makeup from the ground. Crouching right in front of you, offering the beer can in his hand.
"Long time no see, Y/N."
Eh?
You looked up, the hoodie you’d kept over your head falling slowly as you tilted your head to see his face. Feeling your entire body freeze. Your mind went blank; there was no word that seemed good enough to be said at that moment.
If you had to recall how you reacted in that second, you were probably cringing at yourself. Tsukishima kept a small smile tucked on his lips that looked too smug as he put down the beer can beside the other five.
"Y-Yeah! Ahahah! Kei!"
In the sudden nervousness of being under his gaze while wearing only your Hello Kitty pajama pants and a hoodie you had randomly won from a politician campaigning on the street, you scrambled to hold all six beer cans in your arms.
Completely forgetting that you still had the piece of plastic for them.
He must think you’d become a loser—no job, no prospects, no money, just drinking six cans of beer a day.
If he assumed this was for an entire day.
Who could stop him from believing they were all for tonight?
Well... they were...
Clearly knowing how nervous you were from the fumbling of your hands, Tsukishima took the piece of plastic that was lying around, nearly blown by the wind, and took over packing the cans back in.
“These are quite heavy,” he commented easily, standing up with an open palm offered to you like a gentleman.
He must also think your body was already aging 10 years faster.
Still, you accepted it because honestly... you couldn't get up...
It was the fatigue! And the cramps! And the falling just now! And... so many other things.
He held you firmly—a bit too firmly, not that it hurt—and pulled you up effortlessly.
“Where are you headed?”
"Uuuh..." You tried to speak. Suddenly aware of his voice. It had gotten even deeper. Suddenly aware of your voice.
You opted to dejectedly point toward the restaurant instead.
He didn't say anything until the two of you arrived. Didn't say a single word, but also didn't leave until you placed the order of a party size fried chicken.
Well now it looked like you were throwing a party.
Satisfied with how the dices had rolled better opportunities for you, you smiled to yourself. Turning around holding a small number plate.
Tsukishima was leaning on the wall. Observing the place while still carrying your beer.
"Oh? I thought we were eating here."
You nearly choked. "We were...?"
He let out a small laugh that sounded painfully handsome—flashbacks of the two of you making out in high school flooded your mind.
"I'm kidding. You leave nearby, don't you?"
“I don’t.” you replied almost immediately, walking past him and sitting down on one of the waiting chairs.
Tsukishima chose to stay where he was, towering over you so much that you couldn’t do anything but sit neat and still with your fists folded in your lap.
“So you’re just going out like this?” he asked. Not really serious. There was teasing in his voice that annoyingly tickled something in your belly.
Which took you by (shameful) surprise, because it had been seven years since you moved out of Miyagi all the way to Osaka.
Leaving Tsukishima—and whatever those make-out sessions disguised as makeup tests were—behind you for good.
Or so you thought.
Here he was, in a random, humble little neighborhood in Sendai on a Tuesday, saying the most normal things and getting you to react like that high school girl again.
“Okay, I do live here. Don’t know why I lied…” you rambled, quietly avoiding his eyes.
He quirked an eyebrow but kept his lips shut. You could tell something amusing was crossing his mind.
Oh, whatever.
Once the fried chicken was done, you were going to part ways and never have to see him again.
The conversation died. You didn't know whether he ran out of things to say or just the interest to ask anything else because you weren't good at answering them.
“Y/N, my peach! Here the chicken. You on your period, yeah?” The excited voice of your ahjumma suddenly filled the silence, and you hurried toward the counter—anything to get out of Tsukishima’s field of vision.
“I—Uh what?! No! Haha!”
“Oh… I was going to give you samgyetang. I cooked at home.”
“Wait—I lied, I am!”
You heard chuckling from behind you.
“You are? Good! It’s big! Eat with your boyfriend.”
"Ma'am that's not my boyfriend."
“I worry you eat so much alone. You can share with boyfriend now, he’s big, yeah?” The woman peeked out from the counter, nodding excitedly toward Tsukishima.
You couldn’t even react to her allegation when the samgyetang she was talking about turned out to be an entire iron pot of soup that could have fed a family of five.
"Oh, this is too much! What about yours?"
She didn’t say anything, merely waving you off dismissively with a playful frown before walking back into the kitchen.
"Ma'am!"
You nearly had to stuff your entire upper body through the counter, standing on tiptoe and repeatedly calling for her to no avail. Not even caring what Tsukishima thought of you at this point.
You ended up carrying the pot with both hands. Tsukishima had the chicken and the beer.
“I’m sorry… to bother you, but can you walk me home?” you asked sheepishly, looking up at him.
Tsukishima was already a step ahead of you, making sure no one bumped into you with the pot of soup or it would be a catastrophe.
“When did you move back?” he asked.
The illuminations above glinted against his glasses.
The street filled with workers finding somewhere to eat and somewhere to drink. Usually, there wasn’t much life in this part of town—it must have been the lights.
It must have also been the lights that made his features sharper and devastatingly more handsome than you last remembered. Was it the domestic act of carrying your things that made him look that way…?
"Six months ago." You replied, looking away before he found your eyes.
The path grew more familiar as you walked farther from the illuminations. Before you knew it, in the easy silence that followed, you arrived at your apartment with Tsukishima unquestioningly trailing behind you.
“Okay, I’m sorry again, but could you get my keys?” You swung your hip toward him.
“Here?” Tsukishima nearly reached for the front pocket of your hoodie.
“In my pants.” You bit your tongue. Realizing immediately what that sounded like. “I mean, they are!”
He scoffed, shaking his head lightly.
Tsukishima lifted the hem of your hoodie to find the pocket on your fuzzy Hello Kitty pants. At first, it was awkward to have his hand slipping into your pants—technically—but his brows knitted together when several different objects rattled inside.
"Which one is the key?"
"It's a bit deep..."
"God Y/N." He sighed. Before literally having to open the pocket to see what was actually inside. "Why didn't you just carry a bag at this point?"
“Because I don’t want to.”
He peered up at your answer like he expected this from you.
"I'm surprised this holds up." Tsukishima muttered to himself. Pulling out the key which snagged out a couple of other things.
Why were you even carrying a can opener...?
He endured it all anyway and picked everything off the floor, one by one. Stuffing them back into your pocket before unlocking the door.
You heard him audibly sigh, while keeping the door open for you until you made it safely inside.
Tsukishima stood awkwardly as the door closed behind him, unsure if he was invited.
You had just finished putting the pot down on the dining table. Walking back to him to get the other plastic bags out of his hands.
"Come in!"
Tsukishima searched your face for a moment before stepping inside. You weren't sure what he was looking for and the bag of beer was indeed quite heavy so you left him to the dining area.
"I hope I'm not holding you up from anything." You called out.
"You're not." He answered. His voice came unexpectedly close from behind you.
Once he took his backpack and the grandpa jacket off you could see the solid build underneath—years of training since high school.
"Do you still play volley?" You asked absentmindedly. Putting out two beer cans before stuffing the rest into your fridge.
Tsukishima rolled his sleeves up. Catching a peek into the contents of your fridge which seemed to be all different kinds of alcohol.
He questioned your lifestyle all these years yet began to understand why you had a can opener with you.
"Yeah. For Sendai Frogs. That's why I'm here."
You offered him an empty plate and the box of fried chicken, since he was standing around like he wanted to help but didn’t know where to start.
“Do you live nearby?” you asked again, innocently excited at the prospect of finally having a friend.
“No, actually. My place is closer to Sendai Station,” he replied.
Tsukishima couldn’t help scanning your place, wondering why you chose this neighborhood, especially when your jobs were mainly in Tokyo.
So... someone may or may not still be keeping updates on your YouTube channel.
Someone may or may not be a long time subscriber.
When Tsukishima went to throw the packaging away, he caught a glimpse of the awards you’d gotten decorating your living room—one of them sitting on the TV table among various trinkets.
He felt something like pride swell in his chest. It felt surreal to actually be in your home after seeing bits of it in your vlogs. That's why he had felt something familiar even when you tried to be vague with your surroundings, the good feeling in him dissipated, and he began to question the safety aspect of it.
If anyone wanted to get your location you weren't making too difficult for them.
But watching you set up the table and move about on random whims, it seemed to him that you hadn’t changed much since high school—still getting your way, somehow still alive and well.
A few moments later, he was sitting beside you on the table. You’d taken off the political hoodie to reveal another bizarre T-shirt.
Proud Single Mother
Tsukishima held back from smiling at the shirt. He’d seen the video of you unpacking gifts from your longtime fans where that shirt had come up.
“Why would you give me this, katyperrylovesme? Is this a threat?”
The genuine worry on your face and the live banter that followed were enough to make him laugh to himself, even with fatigue from practice.
When you left for Osaka seven years ago, everything moved too fast and too abruptly for him. Today, remembering how he’d reacted to the news that you were leaving in just a week, he wished he’d been bolder about how he felt.
Now, sitting so close to you, he didn’t even know if there was a small chance you had felt the same way about him back then—if you even remembered that year the same way he did.
It must have been a miracle that he was able to meet you again after all this time, and the same miracle might not happen a second time.
Feeling a surge of determination—and already at peace with himself if you turned him down right at that moment—Tsukishima decided to ask.
"Y/N."
“Hm?” You glanced up briefly, in the middle of scooping a portion of the chicken soup into his bowl.
"Do I have a chance with you?"
The glass bowl fell with a thud.
Hot soup spilled onto his trousers. Tsukishima quickly pushed his chair back, wincing quietly. Besides the pain, he really only cared about your answer.
But you were already bending down with a napkin to his pants.
It wasn’t even burning him anymore. You were busy trying to dry the soup that already soaked into the fabric anyway.
Knowing this, Tsukishima held your hand to stop you and stood up.
"Sorry. That must be shocking." He walked away to a corner behind your fridge and reached for the mop he had spotted on the way in.
You curled the napkin in your fist. Mind racing and heart beating just as fast.
Tsukishima Kei was just there mopping your floor and wiping your dining table after casually asking you if he had a chance with you.
His quietness fooled you into thinking the question might have come out completely differently from what he had meant to ask.
But the moment he sat down again—and just as you finally allowed yourself to drink the soup to calm your nerves—Tsukishima continued.
"I'm asking because I want to be your boyfriend."
You meant to swallow the soup in your mouth, but instead it spluttered. You quickly bent into your palm, blindly searching for the napkin, which he so calmly offered to you.
To hell with him being able to see how flushed your face was, both from the gravity of the situation and simply from choking.
"I just want to make myself clear."
You glared at him through the napkin. Raising your hand and voice at him. "Stop talking!"
Tsukishima took it seriously and hung his head, stirring at his soup like he hadn’t wanted to resume eating just yet.
Who was this man?!
What happened, or what did he eat—who did what to him that he was so grounded in whatever the hell empowered him to say everything at once, that it sent you flying all over the place?
To his defense, it wasn’t like he’d approached you all those years ago as a friend with the ultimate motive of making you his girlfriend.
To his second defense, he had always found you attractive, and you had agreed to kiss him on several different occasions—long and passionately enough—that it shouldn’t be his fault to believe he did have a chance.
To his last defense, he was now an adult.
And a man.
An adult man.
The last thing he wanted was to be unclear and waste your time, to be as clueless and lost as the high school boy he once was.
He wanted to show you that he could do more.
He wanted you to know, with zero misunderstanding, of his intentions with you.
Tsukishima opened his mouth again, and before he could say anything outrageous, you reached for his arm, gripping it tightly and looking up at him with pleading eyes.
"Are you trying to kill me? You have a chance Kei! Alright? You clearly have it! You wouldn’t be sitting here eating with me otherwise!”
You nearly shook the sense back into him before cutting yourself off with a sharp huff and turning your attention back to the food like none of it had just happened.
"I was going to say the soup is really good."
Tsukishima said, trying to keep a nonchalant face despite feeling absolutely thrilled at your answer. But he couldn’t be too happy too soon—you were already glaring at him like he needed to behave and let you eat in peace.
So he did.
He behaved, a small smile tugging at his lips that he just couldn’t quite hold back.
Because he had a chance.