it's all connected

The vocalist whistled lowly as Bokuto demanded that Akaashi help dry his hair from the front mat. “Looks like a storm. Wasn’t pouring at all when we got here.”

Newly-recruited bass player Oikawa sighed and swirled his martini glass. “My, what a pain. Shall we call Sawamura-chan to drop us off tonight? Though in this weather it wouldn’t be strange to see a total traffic jam at the stations.”

“Yeah, get on it, would you?” Kuroo gave Oikawa a hearty slap on the back before turning back to Tsukishima, who must have had a too-noticeable sour look on his face. “Hey, what’s up? Didn’t bring an umbrella?”

He stiffened slightly and quickly returned to wiping the glasses. “…No. It didn’t seem like there were any signs of a storm at all tonight, so I left it at home.”

“Well, Koushi probably isn’t gonna be with Daichi tonight, so why don’t you come over for a while?” Kuroo leaned his chin into his palm with that same aggravating grin. “Least until the storm passes.”

Honestly, he wasn’t as surprised as he thought he would be for him to make such an offer. He even had a response half-ready.

“That won’t be necessary.” He replied as calmly as he could and wiped his damp hands on his apron. “I only live ten minutes away. I can make it just fine if I walk.”

“You sure? It’s coming down pretty hard. Daichi should be here in around five to ten minutes.”

“I’ll be fine.” The blonde stressed the last word especially hard before pulling on his jacket to leave. He shot Kuroo a glare when he followed him to the front door, but the latter simply shrugged with that same grin on his face.

When Tsukishima pushed open the door, he was shocked that his glasses didn’t end up flying off his face from the intense wind that had pushed itself into the doorway and whipped his clothing back. The world was barely even recognizable from the streaks of rain pounding against the ground and the mist shrouding everything into gray only a few feet away. It was like someone had turned up the gravity by five thousand times. The street lamps were still on, of course, but all he could make out were blurred blobs of orange light from where he stood.

“Still think you’ll be fine?” Kuroo had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over the wind, and Tsukishima tightened his jaw.

“Yes.” He lied.

“Alrighty then. See you next week, Tsukki.” The black-haired man simply grinned again in response to the sharp glare he received.

Kei tried to walk through the storm. He really, truly did. In fact, he was almost halfway down the sidewalk until a hand grabbed at his arm and tugged him back to the bar. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see a wild mane of now-dripping black hair leading him to the safety of a roof.

“Dammit, that was painful to watch. What were you thinking, you idiot?” Kuroo groaned and squeezed at the hem of his shirt, making another little puddle on the carpet. “Shit, I’m freezing.” He hissed and rubbed at his arms. His dress shirt was nearly see-through at this point and Tsukishima averted his eyes from his torso in general out of decency.

“I didn’t need you to come and get me.” The bartender grumbled and attempted to wipe his glasses with a sopping wet shirt.

“Jeez, don’t be so stubborn now, of all times. I saved you from getting swept away into a sewer.” Kei squeezed one eye shut as Kuroo’s hand rose up to tousle his damp, curly hair. “Just be good and wait for Daichi to get here, why don’t you.”

Kuroo turned to yell to Oikawa: “Hey, Oikawa! Go call Iwaizumi to pick you up! I’m taking Tsukki back with me!”

Oikawa looked as though someone had dropped a brick on his head. “You’re leaving your bass player behind for a bartender?! So cold!”

Kuroo just snickered at that. “Sorry,” He said unapologetically.

“Really, you don’t need to-” Tsukishima began before getting cut off.

“Ah, it’s nothing. Iwaizumi’s good with Oikawa, so hopefully he won’t be too pissed at him for making him drive out in a storm to a bar at two in the morning.”

“He’s going to be pissed.”

“He will.”

After a few minutes of shivering and avoiding Kuroo’s hugs that he claimed would “let them share some body heat”, Akaashi glanced at his cell phone and stood up with Bokuto right by his side. “Sawamura-san is here. Everyone prepare your apologies, I doubt he’s very pleased.”

“Craaaaaap! What should we do?! I still don’t think he forgives me for the mayo slap I pulled on him last week!” Bokuto rubbed at his head with both hands as if to massage his brain back into action.

“Ah, I’ll tell him next drink’s on us and he won’t be so sour about it.” Kuroo waved it off and stood up to leave. “C’mon, Tsukki.”

He frowned at his knees, still staying seated on a chair by the counter. “…Are you sure I can-”

“Yes. Now hurry up and come with me, will you?” The blonde opened his mouth to protest, but his throat seemed to close in on itself when Kuroo grabbed his hand and pulled him up and outside.

“Yo, Daichi!” Kuroo cheerfully greeted (almost sang) when he opened the door to the car. “Thanks for coming all the way out here, man! Mind if we get to my place first? I’ve got Tsukki with me tonight.”  

A somewhat-intimidating laugh rumbled from the front seat, and a vein was nearly popping out of Daichi’s forehead as he turned around with an eerie smile. “You’re very welcome, Kuroo. Now hurry up and get in or I’m leaving you behind.”

“’Cuse me!” Bokuto crowed as he plopped himself into the front seat and the remaining three boys squished into the back with Kuroo sandwiched in the middle.

“You guys are soaked.” Daichi sighed. “Don’t tell me you tried to go out in this storm.”

“I’ll wipe the seats after, Sawamura-san.” Akaashi bowed his head lightly. The pianist was the only one who was still relatively dry after the whole ordeal.

“It’s fine. But you guys owe me ten drinks after this, got it? Ten.” Daichi had this very captain-like tone to his voice that even made Kei want to shut up and obey everything he said.

"Yessir!” Kuroo saluted quite casually.

“…I’m sorry to trouble you.” Tsukishima quietly apologized as the car started up and began to plow down the near-empty streets.

As Bokuto babbled on to Daichi about how great the show was that night and how he met a really pretty girl who was totally into him (though Akaashi pointed out that it was only because she wanted to know what hair products he used), Kuroo was surprisingly quiet, and Tsukishima glanced down at their hands; still wrapped around one another since he had left the bar.

“Why are you still holding my hand?” The blonde asked with a slight frown on his features.

“Just felt like it. Do you hate it?” Kuroo ran a thumb over his knuckles, and Tsukishima nearly jumped.

“…Your palms are sweaty.” He turned away to hide the light reddening of his cheeks.

Kei could nearly hear the smirk in his voice. “And yours are any better?”

“You two, quit flirting.” Daichi called, making Tsukishima almost melt into his seat in shame. “After this turn, we’re at your apartment, Kuroo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just pull up here, will you? You’re the best, Daichi.”

“So you keep telling me until you’re drunk and falling asleep everywhere.” He shot back and turned into the driveway.

“It’s not as far as I thought.” Tsukishima noted.

“Well, it’s more convenient for everyone, right?” Kuroo smiled as they stopped outside the lobby. “Thanks, Daichi! Love you.”

“Don’t be disgusting.” He deadpanned back before sighing. “Jeez. Who knows how long I’m going to chaperone you guys every Saturday? Suga’s probably worried sick about you all.”

“Aw, tell him he’s got nothing to worry about. Night.” Kuroo laughed, though he stopped once Tsukishima pulled his hand away to exit the car.

Kei bowed once more. “Thank you very much, goodnight.”

“Yeah, no problem. See you later.” Daichi waved and Akaashi and Bokuto followed suit before the door slammed shut and the car soon disappeared into the thick layers of fog surrounding the building.

“Ah, shit, let’s hurry and get inside before my hands fall off.” Kuroo rushed over to the front lobby doors and pushed his key inside. He made casual greetings to the lobby attendant before pulling Tsukishima into an elevator and hitting the fourth floor button. The apartment itself wasn’t big, but it was rather well-furnished and shiny inside.

It felt strange for some reason. When the elevator doors opened, Kuroo made a grab for his hand again to pull him down the hallway to his flat. As they both shivered, Kei kept his eyes pointed at the blue carpet under them and at their hands. Why didn’t he just ask Sawamura-san to drop him off at his own apartment? Perhaps it was because Kuroo had already crashed at his place before, so this wasn’t as odd as it should have been.

“Aaand we’re here! Finally.” Kuroo sighed in relief as he pushed the door open and flicked on the lights. “Sorry for the mess.”

The first thing that struck him was that it was cleaner than he expected, and smelled like coffee. The inside layout was a mix of reds, browns, and blacks, and it almost felt like walking into fall.

“Here, get inside, I’ll turn on the heat and make some coffee or something. Wait, actually, stay here, I’ll get you a towel and a change of clothes. Or do you wanna take a shower first?” Kuroo seemed surprisingly flustered, letting go of his hand at last to pat down his clothing, kick off his shoes, and run inside.

“Uh, no, you can go first-”

“Ah, what the heck are you doing, get in here, you’re gonna freeze!” Kuroo nearly sounded desperate, rushing back around the corner to grab his wrist and pull him in further.

“You’re the one who told me to stay there.” He mumbled back, feeling a prick of irritation furrow his brow.

Kuroo completely ignored him as expected, turning the corner down a hallway and into a bedroom with the lights already on. It looked like any other teenage boy’s room; posters on the painted walls, a jersey here and there, a TV on top of his dresser and a large checkered bed. He also had a door that connected to his bathroom from his bedroom, too.

“Uh, here. Towel and clothes. I think my stuff should fit on you, so gimme your clothes later and I’ll throw them in the dryer. I’ll take a shower for now, so just make yourself comfy.” Kuroo waved and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, suddenly leaving the room in utter silence before Tsukishima could say a word.

“How am I supposed to ‘make myself comfy’ in a place like this…?” He sighed to himself and started to peel off his wet clothing the moment he heard the shower start up on the other side of the door. After he rid himself of his sopping shirt and pants and dumped them into a laundry basket placed at the door (presumably for him) before grabbing the towel lying on the bed and patting himself dry.

He couldn’t quite describe why this uneasy feeling was rising up in his chest. It was fine. It wasn’t like he’d never been in another guy’s room before, but knowing that it was his, Kuroo Tetsurou’s, and it was so simply him, made his nerves stand on end.

Tsukishima bit his lip as he awkwardly pulled on a blue t-shirt that fell past his hips and revealed a bit too much of his collarbones. Luckily the sweatpants Kuroo had lent to him had a drawstring, so he tied a double-knot and prayed for it to stay on properly before quickly running the towel through his hair and stepping outside to peek around the living room.

It certainly was messy here and there, but the kitchen was tidier than he expected and the black couch certainly helped add to the modern style he was going for. What really surprised him was a keyboard, shiny and black, sitting against the wall, immaculate and clearly taken care of. Black cases lined up next to it, one of them distinctly a saxophone. So he wasn’t just a vocalist? The way his curiosity had been piqued was starting to irritate him, too.

Now it was getting too awkward to be anywhere else, so he padded back along the floorboards and back into the bedroom, where he sat down on the bed and picked up his phone. He had just started tapping away to text Yamaguchi when he realized that the texting history between him and Kuroo had started to grow longer, longer than he’d remembered.

Suddenly feeling his cheeks start to prick with heat, he turned the screen off quickly.

Right at that moment, the water stopped and Kuroo stepped out of what seemed to be an extremely hot shower judging from the smoke floating around behind him. Tsukishima almost jumped at the fact that he wasn’t wearing anything more than a pair of black boxers but averted his eyes before he could even get a second thought.

“Yo, the shower’s free now if you wanna take one.” Kuroo wiped at his neck with a small towel around it and walked up to the bed.

“No thanks. I’m fine.” He hadn’t meant to sound so curt about it, but he just felt so uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t even describe. He looked down at his lap; his fingers had laced themselves together in his nervous habit without him even realizing it.

“Hey, you okay?” Kuroo quirked an eyebrow at him and sat next to him on the bed, mattress dipping with his added weight. “No need to be so nervous.”

“I’m not.” Tsukishima insisted, but scooted a bit farther away from him regardless. “This feels like an abduction.”

“Hmm,” The black-haired man hummed before shifting around on the bed a bit, and by this point Tsukishima was only half-resistant when Kuroo’s arms came wrapping around him and pulling him into his bare chest, making his own heart stutter for a second when he realized that he was resting on his shoulder and close to his neck at this point.

“There we go.” Kuroo was most definitely grinning right now. “Is this any better?”

“Why would it be?” He flatly argued, though he hated how weak he suddenly felt to this. What should he have done with his hands? His mind drew a blank and simply left them to grip at the sheets under them. “…You’re so annoying. How do I always get stuck with you, of all people? Haven’t you ever heard of a thing called personal space?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of a thing called fate?” Kuroo jabbed back teasingly, and Kei began running a string of curses in his head for feeling his face start to warm. He could nearly feel the body heat radiating off of him from the close proximity, and his neck didn’t feel as cold anymore.

“…I didn’t know you played the piano.” The blonde spoke up after a few seconds. Kuroo was rubbing his back now in a frustratingly calming manner.

“Oh, that thing? I haven’t played in years, so I’m probably rusty.”

“And the saxophone.”

“I still keep up with that one, but I take care of them all.”

“If you’re so musically gifted, there’s no need for you to bother playing at some old bar every weekend. There should be plenty of schools that would want you.” The moment his sentence ended, he bit his tongue. That came out wrong, like he was asking, ‘you can do better than where I am, so why here?’

“True, true.” He hummed again. “But I do it because I like it. How many guys do you think have the time, money, and experience to play old jazz with their high school friends every weekend at a bar with an attractive bartender? You gotta take chances when they come or else they’re gone, you know. Nothing good comes out of hesitating.”

“Aren’t you in university right now, though?” He felt so much smaller now, even though he was in his third year of high school. The world of working adults seemed so foreign, millions of light years away from where he stood. And yet, when he held him like this, it felt like that borderline had thinned to only a few centimeters.

“Doesn’t mean I know what I wanna do with the rest of my life.” Kuroo chuckled into his ear. “Hurry and grow up, yeah? It’s busy, but it’s fun being treated like an adult even if you don’t act like it.”

“That’s hilarious coming from the biggest child I know.”

“Don’t be mean, Tsukki.” Kuroo nuzzled his cheek, effectively shutting him up and making his spine shoot up straight.

A comfortable silence fell over the room. His eyelids felt somewhat heavier now, being warmed up by this person and listening to the sound of their breaths mixed with the rain drumming its fingertips on the roof. One soft voice in the back of his mind kept asking:

How do I feel about this person?

Tsukishima blinked out of his daze when he noticed a series of sharp, high notes being hummed by the man in front of him, and vaguely a name came to mind and he said it without thinking:

“…‘The Sound of Music’.”

“Ah, you know it?” His voice raised an octave in curiosity.

“More or less. My family used to watch the film together every Christmas.” What? Where did that come from? Normally he wouldn’t have even brought up such a thing, but the atmosphere was so soft and gentle he felt safe to share it.

“Yeah? Tell me more about it.” Kuroo hummed, urging him to go on.

“…We’d all squish together on the couch with big blankets, and my brother was always in charge of making the popcorn. Dad would sing along horribly and my mom would laugh at me and Nii-chan trying to shut him up. Eventually we forgot all about the movie.”

“That sounds fun. Do you still own it?”

“It’s probably down somewhere in our basement. I haven’t seen it in years, though.”

“Let’s watch it together sometime.”

“If we suddenly show up at my house in search of an old movie in our basement, my mom will be slightly surprised.”

“That’s alright. I’ve been wanting to meet your parents for a long time now, anyway.”

“Why do you keep making it sound like…” Tsukishima trailed off, feeling his eyebrow twitch.

“Like what? Come on, tell me.”

“Like I actually have any liking towards you? You’re so arrogant and-”

“Well, considering that we’ve been sitting like this for almost half an hour now without protest, can I assume that you at least don’t despise me or wish to run me over with a truck?”

“Oh, believe me, I can think of much better ways to inflict pain besides using a truck.” Tsukishima flatly spat back.

Kuroo whistled lowly. “Whoo, you’re into that sort of thing? I had no idea, Tsukki.”

His blood nearly boiled over as he snapped: “Of course that’s not what I meant, you- you- ugh. Never mind.”

The vocalist laughed. “Ah, you’re so cute, Tsukki.”

C-Cute? He was about to say something, but Tsukishima gave up all intentions of fighting back. As deeply as he despised admitting it, he’d won this one. The blonde dropped his forehead to Kuroo’s shoulder and let a small sigh out of his nose.

Sugar-spun words and hair as black as licorice. It was like this entire man’s existence was sickeningly sweet.

What? What was this? Tsukishima blinked. Every time before this, when he had been so close, Kuroo gave off a scent of spicy cologne. But now, as he was nearly nestled into the crook of his shoulder and neck, he smelled something else. Something sweet and just a bit musky. Was it body wash? Or just a natural smell?

He felt the blood rush to his face. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t attractive.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens Brown paper packages tied up with strings These are a few of my favorite things.

For the past minute, Kuroo had been lightly singing the nostalgic tune into Tsukishima’s ear. He liked the sound of his voice, after all; or at least when it wasn’t teasing him mercilessly and constantly irritating him.

But he liked the sound of his voice. He liked the way he smelled. He liked the warmth he gave off when he was close.

That was all he liked, right? A million strings were tangling themselves up in his brain.

Still in a light, confused daze, Kei closed his eyes and turned his head slightly to come closer to his neck. His lips softly brushed over Kuroo’s collarbones as he did so.

“W-Whoa!” Kuroo jumped and nearly gave Tsukishima a heart attack when his arms tightened around his back.

“W-What?” He sputtered back, trying to look at him. The rate of his heart had seemingly tripled in speed.

“Uh, nothing, just…” Kuroo’s arms dropped from his waist as he pulled away, just enough so that they were facing each other on the bed now. His hand rose to rub at the back of his neck, but...

“Why are you blushing?” Tsukishima asked incredulously, leaning back and tangling his fingers into the sheets. His palms were starting to get sweaty.

“Oh, ha, like you’re any better!” Kuroo covered half his face with a hand and moved it back to roughly mess up his wild hair. So he wasn’t just imagining it. A light pink hue was starting to spread across Kuroo’s nose and cheeks. The colour looked so strange on him.

Tsukishima wasn’t any better, of course. He could already feel that his ears were just as bright red.

Kuroo must have read his mind (fuck you, Kuroo, you’re not supposed to do that), because he chuckled and pinched at Tsukishima’s left ear. “Even your ears? Dammit, you’re making it hard for me to hold back, you know.”

“Seriously, just because of that…” Kei grumbled in response and batted his hand away.

He was irritated. He was frustrated. Every little thing was making him nervous and it made him angrier than words could describe that he couldn’t figure it out.

He was irritated like never before, and yet when Kuroo whispered something about how he should at least try to look less endearing around him and slid his hand on his cheek, Tsukishima didn’t protest as much as he thought he would. And instead, their lips met in a tender kiss that made some kind of switch deep inside him click and turn warm.

They had never done anything more than this, but this kiss seemed different from the others they had shared. The ones before were teasing and merciless and rude, their only purpose seeming to be to make sure Tsukishima would not forget him; to make sure that every time he saw a red tie or a microphone or a martini glass, Kuroo Tetsurou’s face would appear in his mind.

Something about this one was strange, something ever so out of the ordinary. Was it the hand cupping his cheek? Was it the mildly sweet smell? Was it the quiet atmosphere, the rain, the proximity, the words they had exchanged moments before? It was nothing special, just a press of the lips. But it was so soft, as if the other was afraid he’d break if he applied too much pressure.

It felt different. It wasn’t meant to say “never forget me” like the others had.

When he finally pulled away, Tsukishima finally let out the breath he had been holding. Kuroo’s face was still tinted pink, but that irritating smirk was still there as always.

“You’re horrible,” Tsukishima caught himself mumbling while staring right at him with a scowl. “…Absolutely horrible.”

Kuroo simply chuckled and moved his hand so that his thumb was caressing his cheek. “You’re not exactly convincing with a face that cute and pink.”

“And you get on my nerves. Can you keep your hands off me for even a minute?” He shot back and squirmed away from his touch, suddenly feeling cold just from not being his arms for that split moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kuroo laughed, not sounding the least bit sorry at all. “But don’t you know how tempting it is for me? It’s the ones with the lack of interest in me, the attractive ones with bad attitudes and glasses that I want more of, you know.”

Tsukishima’s eyebrow twitched in aggravation. A vein was ready to burst at any moment now. “…Akaashi-san was right about you, I guess.”

Kuroo tilted his head in question. “Akaashi? What’d he say about me?”

“He said that you’re a disgusting old man whose only purpose in life is to irritate the human race and assault younger men. It’s a commonly known fact that you can spend nine to twenty-one years in prison for harassment, Kuroo-san.” Tsukishima pushed his glasses up with two fingers and shot him a deathly glare. “And that you like the ones who ‘play hard to get’.”

“D-Disgusting old man?” His jaw dropped as if he had just been shot in the heart. “I’m not even twenty-one! You little brat!”

As Tsukishima attempted to break out of the headlock that Kuroo had him in, the latter smiled down at him. “Say, why don’t you spend the night?”

“That’s not exactly how you initiate an invitation.”

He ended up staying anyway, of course, in which Kuroo talked his ear off on the opposite side of the bed. Asking things like what he collected, what his favorite food was, what anime did he like, on and on and on. Not that he answered all of them truthfully, or answered them at all.

When the black-haired man finally seemed to drop off to sleep, Tsukishima allowed himself to scoot just a bit closer and trace the line of Kuroo’s face and jaw with a few fingers. And of course, it didn’t take long before he was caught and ended up trapped in his arms for the remainder of the night, with Kuroo gushing on about how cute he was and that if he wanted to touch him he could have just asked (Tsukishima hit him for that).

But comforted by the scent and sound of rain and that warmth coming back once more, he fell asleep faster than he wanted to admit.

In the end, he concluded that ‘curious’ was the proper word to describe how he felt.

Maybe one day he’d learn what Kuroo Tetsurou collected, what his favorite food was, what anime he liked, all the little trivial things that made a person who they were. He was curious, after all.

What were his favorite things? Surely if he asked he’d make a little song out of it.

What were they, anyway? Strangers? Not exactly. Friends? He's kissed him too many times to count as friends.

Tsukishima tries to backtrack the best he can. It’s currently 2:30 AM, and Kuroo’s jazz band had already finished their performance for that Saturday night. It’s the end of his shift as always, but tonight was the night the band decided to settle down with some girls and order a drink.

Or two.

Or three.

Or seventeen.

And so here he is, standing in the dim light of a bar counter, barely able to breathe as he’s putting away cups into their correct cupboards.

Luckily, one of them is sober. A tall, chestnut-haired man who’s still getting through his second drink slowly is sitting at the counter in front of Tsukishima. He’s the pianist of the group and doesn't stand out much, but Tsukishima still hasn’t actually talked to him before.

“Um.” The blonde awkwardly begins, wiping idly at the mouth of a glass and hoping his voice is audible over the clattering of dishes and the drunken cheering. “Do you think they’ll be alright?”

“Them? I don’t think you need to worry.” The pianist uses two fingers to loosen his navy-coloured tie and leans his cheek into his palm. “Before we started playing here, it would be strange for these guys not to get drunk after a show. But if falling off the table and hitting their heads brings them back to their senses, wouldn’t it be better to just leave them?”

Tsukishima blinks in surprise. That wasn’t what he was expecting. So not everyone in the band was wild and untamed.

“You’re Tsukishima Kei-san, right?” The stranger went on. When Tsukishima looked at him, the words “calm” and “indifferent” came to mind. “Kuroo-san talks a lot about you. You work here on weekends, if I remember correctly.”

“Ah… yes.” His brow furrows in confusion. Kuroo-san talks about him? When? Why? What kind of things does he say? He’s more worried about it than he wants to admit but shoves that feeling down.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Akaashi Keiji. I’m sorry that Kuroo-san causes you so much trouble all the time.” He sighs and bows his head down a little in remorse. “He can be extremely embarrassing, especially with Bokuto-san.”

“No, it’s fine.” Tsukishima’s honestly surprised at how polite this guy is for someone who hangs around Kuroo and that other owl-looking drummer- that Bokuto he was just talking about, most likely. “But getting sued for not preventing their future concussions isn’t in my best interests.”

“Yes, I agree on that.” Akaashi closes his eyes for a moment before standing up. “I’m terribly sorry to have to trouble you, but do you happen to live nearby, Tsukishima-san?”

At that he raises an eyebrow. “…Yes, I live in an apartment about ten minutes from here. Why do you ask?”

The dark-haired man sneaks a glance at his watch. “It’s likely that the night bus just left. Would you mind if I took Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san to your place for a few minutes to rest? I’ll ask Sawamura-san to pick us up from there afterwards.”

“Sawamura-san?”

“A friend of ours. He isn’t a part of the band, though.” He smiles lightly. “He’s been saving us from drunken bar nights since our high school years.”

“I see.” Tsukishima gives a sideways look to Kuroo, the number one cause of his irritation that’s currently yelling slurred obscenities into his microphone. It’s not even plugged in anymore and it seems to be confusing him greatly judging by the way he keeps tapping it on his knee and giggling. Well, if they’re only crashing at his place for a glass of water and some rest before getting picked up, it can’t be that bad. Akaashi has sort of put him on the spot, too, so it would be awkward to say no. Of course, being with the most Irritating Man Alive isn’t exactly his idea of fun, especially when he’s drunk, but what’s he going to remember the next day?

Plus, he might actually be getting a little used to this; this certain wild-haired singer whirlwinding into any situation unexpectedly and causing him trouble.

Kei shuffles a bit awkwardly in his breaking Converse and apron, tucking his fingers into his back pockets. “I understand. I’ll ask the manager for permission to leave.”

He retreated into the back room for a few seconds to receive the thumbs-up, and he slipped off his apron before returning back to the main floor. His head was starting to hurt from the heavy pounding of bass and the constant sound of mumbled conversations grating against his ears. The air in the bar is recycled and stale, too.

“Bokuto-san, please don’t try to push Kuroo-san off the table. We’re going to go home now.” When Tsukishima finally shoved his way through a bubble of women trying to reach for Kuroo, he found Akaashi pulling back the owl-haired guy by his arms and waist.

“Don’ try n’ stop me, Akaashi!” He splutters, face flushed and swinging his fists around like a malfunctioning windmill. “He’s got the table for so long, iz’ my turn now!”

“When we come here next week, there will be plenty more tables for you to dance on. Come on, Tsukishima-san is going to let us stay at his place for a while.” Though he’s calm, Akaashi sounds like a total babysitter and Tsukishima blinks at him in disbelief. Full of surprises, it seems.

“Haaaaaaaaaa! You lose this un’, Bokuto!” Kuroo laughs loudly like a maniac and waves his pointed finger in his direction. “Table’s mine!” Then he breaks out into another fit of hysterical giggling.

“Um.” He clears his throat. “…What should I do?” He’s never had to deal with bringing home someone drunk. Not even Akiteru was that tipsy the first time he had sake, and that time he had his parents to help him, too. Kuroo isn’t looking so good; his face is totally red, the front three buttons of his black dress shirt are popped open, and his tie is loosely hanging around his neck like it’s clinging to it for dear life. And he’s about to teeter right off the edge of the table from how he’s trying to surf on it. Overall not a very good situation.

“Oh, Tsukishima-san.” The pianist just noticed that Tsukishima had been there, and turns his head to him while trying to restrain Bokuto at the same time. “Can you please get Kuroo-san off the table? I’m worried he’s going to break it and we don’t have much in the way of spare funds.” Still holding the drummer under the arms, he starts to walk him out of the crowd. “Please stop crying into my ear, Bokuto-san, it’s obnoxious.”

Shit. Maybe it’s just because the space itself is packed and the temperature is higher, but he’s starting to sweat.

“Kuroo-san!” He calls up to his dancing figure, completely at a loss as to where to start. “Would you please get off the table now?”

“Ah,” The vocalist pauses his air guitar solo to look down at him and wave. “Heyyyyy, it’s Tsukki! Hey, Tsukki! You wanna join me?”

A vein pops out of his forehead and he has to rub his temples before he loses it. He should know better than to try to use logic on a drunken person, but Kuroo Tetsurou just so happens to be a master at being the embodiment of everything Tsukishima finds annoying.

“Come on, hurry and get off. You’re done for tonight!” Tsukishima grits his teeth and reaches up to grab his wrist-

And of course that’s when the table decides to completely succumb to gravity and clatter to the floor the second Kuroo tilts forward again.

When the world stops spinning, Kei groans loudly upon registering the new weight resting right on top of him. Kuroo ended up landing right on him, and he’s disgusted at the relief he feels that it doesn’t look like he’s hurt. The back of Tsukishima’s skull is throbbing from the impact it took to the floor and he’s having some trouble breathing, but otherwise he’s fine.

A string of giggles reaches his ears when Kuroo braces his hands on either side of the blonde’s head and smiles, still flushed. “That was fun!”

“Yes, yes, fine, now just get off me already-” He coughs and struggles to pull the vocalist back up to his feet, imitating the position Akaashi had taken just a few minutes ago.

“Tsukki, where’re we going?” Kuroo mumbles into his ear, head lolling back and forth as he drags his feet along the floor.

“Just shut up and walk, you drunken cat.” He grumbles back, not quite liking the smell of alcohol and the spicy cologne the man next to him was giving off. Again, here he is troubling himself for this guy’s sake. He always thought he hated troublesome things, and yet Kuroo might just be that word in the form of a human being.

Tsukishima has to kick open the front door and shivers lightly at the cold air suddenly surrounding him, but it’s fresh and he can actually breathe again. When he looks down the sidewalk, Akaashi is waiting for him under a street lamp with Bokuto around his shoulder.

“Ah, Tsukishima-san. Which way do you live?” He asks as the bartender carefully makes his way over.

“Oh. Follow me.” He’s grateful that it doesn’t seem like he’ll have to talk much, and Kuroo’s half-asleep anyway. Bokuto is sleep-talking but still functioning. The two of them start their walk down the street.

“Again, I really am sorry to have to trouble you.” Akaashi apologizes once more, bowing his head down a little. “And this is on Kuroo-san’s behalf, too. I know he’s taken quite the liking to you, so he must have bothered you mercilessly, hasn’t he?”

He takes a second to think about that. When he looks back, ‘bothering him’ is probably the best word to describe his antics over the past few weeks. “That’s an accurate description.” He replies and awkwardly looks to the side away from Akaashi. “But… why me? If he wanted to bother someone, he could have chosen anyone else.”

Akaashi unexpectedly gives him a light smile, just a gentle uprising of the lips. “Who knows? You’ll have to ask him when he’s not horribly intoxicated.” He closes his eyes briefly. “If I had to say, Kuroo-san has a thing for those who play hard to get.”

“H-Hard to-” Tsukishima nearly splutters out the words before he can compose himself and points a glare at the road in front of him. “I’m doing no such thing. It’s as you said. Kuroo-san refuses to stop bothering me.”

“Do you want to change that?”

“He won’t stop signing up your band to play at the bar I work at. There isn’t much I can do.”

“Then it may have been love at first sight that hit Kuroo-san.”

Tsukishima nearly stops walking and breathing simultaneously.

After exactly three seconds, he snaps back with irritably darkened cheeks, “P-Please don’t joke around like that, there’s no way that’s possible.”

Akaashi seems somewhat satisfied with his reaction, though it doesn’t show visibly on his face, simply through a tilt of the head. “You can’t know that for sure.”

Tsukishima stares down at his shoes as he continues to pull Kuroo along. A strange heat is still clawing up his neck. “I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”

Akaashi smiles again, shifting slightly when Bokuto starts groaning again. “I see. But he’s a strange one. He’ll have you believing in things that you didn’t know existed.”

“Like what?”

“Like how joining the jazz band would be a good thing.”

And they leave it at that.

Both Akaashi and Tsukishima are sweating when they finally make it back to his apartment. The walk itself wasn’t long, but felt more like twenty hours than fifteen minutes.

“Pardon the intrusion.” Akaashi politely calls as he slips off his shoes and steps inside. “Tsukishima-san, I’m going to put Bokuto-san on the couch, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Yes, sure. Sorry for the mess.” Even Tsukishima has to admit it’s a bit embarrassing for someone else to be coming inside his small little apartment when he hasn’t cleaned up in a week. It probably smells like coffee to anyone who doesn’t live here regularly.

“Don’t be.” The pianist says as he carefully turns Bokuto on his side. “You haven’t seen Bokuto-san’s house during spring cleaning, so this is really nothing.” Almost as if he heard what he said, the drummer grumbles something under his breath and waves his arm before resuming his snoring again.

Kei’s entire body feels fifty pounds heavier even after he lays Kuroo down on his bed, scowling a little because he’ll definitely have to wash the sheets after tonight.

“You bastardssssss!” He slurs as he rubs at his eyes, and Tsukishima sighs. He’ll have to turn him over too just in case he vomits but he’s still drawling on. “If ya wanna drink, drink by your own damn selves, you… bastard…”

He turns him over and Kuroo immediately stops his mumbling.

“Akaashi-san, have you called Sawamura-san yet?” Tsukishima pokes back out of his bedroom to see Akaashi with his cell phone in his hand and a glass of water on his coffee table.

“Yes, I just did. I’m sorry for rummaging around your cabinets; I just wanted to get Bokuto-san some water.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Akaashi sets down his phone and helps Bokuto sit up, still groggy and mumbling to himself as the pianist lifts the glass to his lips. “Bokuto-san, please open your mouth, I have water for you.” Though his eyes were still fluttering as he drank, he still managed to down the whole thing before falling back asleep again.

Tsukishima suddenly felt awkward and looks away. He’s almost like a mother, taking care of him and somehow just knowing the best thing to do in situations like these. The complete opposite of himself. “…You seem used to this.”

“No, I wouldn’t go that far. My alcohol tolerance is higher, that’s all.” Akaashi says without skipping a beat. “After all, someone has to take care of them when they’re too drunk to even bat an eyelash.” A somewhat wry smile finds his lips. “Maybe it’s true that I dote on them, especially Bokuto-san, far too much than I should.”

He couldn’t help it. Talking to this guy was calming and even a little intriguing. Tsukishima didn’t mind being around him.

“Does everyone in the band rely on you like this?” He asks.

“If I had to say, I might be nominated for most reliable. But that doesn’t mean I don’t depend on the others, too.” Akaashi says. “They’ll never know that, of course.”

“It sounds like a pain, if you ask me.” Tsukishima was never sure how to deal with or understand the selfless types of people like him; the ones who put on acts to benefit everyone’s well-being despite having the softest hearts out of everyone they took care of.

“Rather than a pain, it’s more of a responsibility.” A quiet scoff leaves him. “Though it’s also true that maybe I’ve just gone soft and I’m a bit too fond of them to let them raise our damage bills any higher.”

“It could be.” Even after his more personal explanation, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around being the mother. What did he gain from this? But still. He didn’t dislike that, by any means.

“That could go for you, too, Tsukishima-san.”

“Excuse me?” He raises an eyebrow at that.

“You went out of your way to help three people who you barely even know, two of which are drunk and obnoxious. If you look at it subjectively, all you have to gain from this is my trust. And I’m sure that you have things you’d rather be doing than tending to these band members right now, don’t you?”

“T-That’s…” He honestly had no idea how to respond. He just didn’t want to say no because Akaashi had put him on the spot and he didn’t seem like anyone incredibly suspicious, plus they would all be gone in a few minutes anyway. But when he thought about it, there really was no ulterior motive or personal benefit that came with it.

Akaashi just gives him another tiny smile. “I see why Kuroo-san is interested in you.”

That nearly makes him flare up again, and just as he opens his mouth to object, there’s a knock on his door and both of them perk up.

“Akaashi? It’s Daichi!”

“Oh, he got my text.” Akaashi jogs over to the door and opens it with Tsukishima following behind. A man a bit shorter than he is and dark hair cropped close stands in his doorway in a hoodie and exasperated expression.

“I’m sorry to have to call you so late, Sawamura-san.” Akaashi bows before turning to the blonde. “Again, thank you very much for your hospitality. We’ll be taking Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san home for tonight.”

“Yeah, about that…” Sawamura-san; did he just say his first name was Daichi? He rubs the back of his neck and looks away sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, but there’s not enough room in my car.”

Akaashi frowns immediately and a bad feeling starts to grow in the pit of Tsukishima’s stomach. “What do you mean?”

“Well, because I’ve got five seats in mine, right? I don’t know if you forgot that Oikawa was on bass tonight, but he’s in there, and Suga’s sleeping in the front. So that leaves you and Bokuto.” It must be his imagination- his gentle-looking face darkens almost scarily as he says, “Though maybe if someone had called earlier, this wouldn’t have happened.”

A single bead of sweat rolls down Akaashi’s temple. “…I’m sorry.” Then he turns around with pleading eyes to Tsukishima. “Tsukishima-san, I know I can’t possibly afford to trouble you any further, but could you please keep Kuroo-san over for the night? We’ll come pick him up right away tomorrow, I promise.” Before he can even object, he goes on to say: “I share a flat with Bokuto-san, so I have to go home with him. I doubt he remembered to bring his keys.”

Just how much of a mother are you to him? He almost blurts out, but simply sighs and takes off his glasses briefly to rub at the bridge of his nose. Honestly, he should have been half-expecting this.  Wherever he goes and whatever he does, somehow, just somehow he ends up getting trapped in a situation with the most Irritating Man Alive.

Daichi just laughs a bit, slapping Tsukishima on the shoulder with one hand and the other on his hip. “Sorry for all the trouble these idiots probably cause you. It’s okay though, Kuroo’s more of a sleeper when he’s drunk. If you just keep him on your couch he should be okay for the night.”

“Uh, no, that’s not the issue-”

“How much will it cost for a night?” Akaashi seriously asks, and Tsukishima nearly chokes on his own spit when he reaches for the chained wallet in his pocket. “I think around fifty should be enough, but-”

“N-No, no, never mind, fine!” He huffs and turns away, not wanting Akaashi to start telling him that he’s nicer than he looks again. “I never agreed to be the host for that slovenly guy, but you don’t need to pay me, it’s fine. Just give me your phone number so I can message you. Please.” At this point he doesn’t even care enough to be concerned about the way that last word was tacked onto his sentence. It’s 3 AM and he can’t bother anymore. He’s too tired for this.

So they exchange numbers, Akaashi bows about ten times more, drags Bokuto off the couch, and leaves with Daichi down the hall. When the door closes Tsukishima nearly melts; that was not supposed to be such a pain.

But now he has an even bigger one to deal with right now.

Oh, lullaby of birdland That's what I always hear When you sigh Never in my wordland could there be ways to reveal in a phrase how I feel

“W-Water…” A voice that he’d really rather not hear right now croaks from his bedroom, and Tsukishima’s feet literally feel like they’ve been injected with liquid concrete as he moves to the kitchen to get a glass.

For some reason he remembers Akaashi’s words. Now is he the one going soft? He ponders it as the glass fills up in the sink and he brings it to the room.

He turns on the lamp on the bedside table to see Kuroo trying even further to unbutton his shirt, but his fingers are slipping and it looks difficult for him. “So hot…” He mumbles, rolling around a little and kicking his feet.

Tsukishima unwillingly tenses up.

No. No, what? What’s with this atmosphere? What’s with this situation?

A drunk, dark-haired jazz vocalist, rolling around on his bed with a flushed face, tousled hair, open dress shirt, a light sheen of sweat on his face and parted lips, all lit up by the dim light of a lamp.

It almost feels like he’s intruding on something. What did he just walk in on?

His lower lip is quivering. He bites down on it immediately.

“Water,” He almost coughs out, cursing how he stutters. “I brought water, Kuroo-san.” He tries to mimic Akaashi’s caretaking the best he can. He sets down the water on the bedside table and slips a hand on the small of his back to help him sit up, but Kuroo just kind of flops forward and groans a little.

“...Drink it carefully.” Tsukishima half-heartedly warns, since it’ll have little effect in his mental state. So he tips the glass up to his lips and watches him obediently guzzle it down, though there’s a trickle of it left dripping down his chin when he finishes.

“Mmm…” Kuroo drowsily picks at the fourth button of his black dress shirt, not seeming to mind the water on the corner of his lips. “Tsukki, I’m hot…”

Have you ever heard two turtle doves Bill and coo, when they love? That's the kind of magic music we make with our lips When we kiss

His entire body is breaking into a cold sweat, every alarm in his cells ringing. What should he do? What is he supposed to do? He hasn’t watched enough chick flicks to know where to go from here.

He’s hot. His body temperature is obviously higher than normal.

So what is he supposed to do?

…Undress him?

The possibility hadn’t really come to mind until then, but his hand still wavers when it comes near the buttons of his shirt. His upper chest is exposed, and he can feel the body heat radiating off of him. A pathetic heat starts to pool into his cheeks.

The most he can do is take off his tie and fling it to the ground before forcing him to lie down and slapping a cold towel on his forehead. Then he flees to the bathroom connecting to his bedroom and locks himself in the shower for fifteen minutes.

He gnaws on the inside of his cheek for those fifteen minutes straight while staring at the drain. He shouldn’t have agreed to do this after all. He’s almost nineteen, he doesn’t know enough about this stuff.

He has to press his head into the tiled wall for a few seconds. This is bad. He’s flustered. Why is he flustered. Stop that right now.

Tsukishima quietly exits the bathroom in an XL shirt and boxer shorts, turning out the lights. He leans over to check on Kuroo. His position hasn’t changed that much; he’s just rolled over so the towel is on the mattress now. It looks like he managed to undo the last of the buttons on his shirt, because it’s splayed out across his abdomen and barely covering his shoulders.

Not knowing what else to do, he sighs and sits down next to him, making the mattress dip with the weight. It’s weird to have another person on his bed besides him.

And there's a weepy old willow He really knows how to cry, That's how I'd cry in my pillow If you should tell me farewell and goodbye

The blonde reaches for the towel and uses it gently to wipe at the sweat gathering at his hairline and nose. Why is he doing this? He isn’t obliged to or anything. In fact, he doesn’t know much about him at all. He’s irritating and wild and he doesn’t get a single thing about him, and here he is tending to him like a failing mother hen with its foot cut off and stumbling about. It frustrates him how confused this single person, this cat-like guy makes him feel.

“I can see why Kuroo-san is interested in you.”

Just out of pure and simple curiosity, his hand rises to pet his wild black mane and it’s surprisingly softer than it looks. Messy, yes, but soft. Fluffy. A stark contrast to his actual personality and appearance.

But when he tangles his fingers in and sifts through it, he can swear he almost heard Kuroo purr at the touch, which makes him jerk and pull away.

A pair of glazed-over brown eyes slowly open, and he grins and giggles a little when he sees Tsukishima looking at him. “…Ah. It’s Tsukki…” He almost starts crawling towards him, sliding over on the bed to reach out and fasten his arms around the blonde’s waist like a snake.

“H-Hey, wait a second-!” He blurts out, feeling this sense of unease that had been sitting in his stomach start to boil and overflow at his touch. “K-Kuroo-san, let go of me-”

Even though they’re around the same height, Kuroo completely crushes him in terms of strength and then the next second he blinks he’s on his side with the vocalist’s arms around him. He’s being pulled into his chest and he can feel his breath on his ear-

“Are you serious…?” He sighs out, feeling that same stupid heat start to work its way up to his face again. Kuroo is completely nuzzling into his neck and tangling their legs together, and the feeling of his pants against Tsukishima’s bare legs is not exactly the most pleasant feeling.

“Tsukki,” He keeps mumbling into his ear, and his hair is tickling his neck. “Tsukki, Tsukki, Tsukki…”

“What is it?” He flatly asks, trying to squirm out of his grip.

“…Love you…”

His body completely freezes.

“I love you, Tsukki… I love you…” Kuroo’s legs are wrapped around him at this point, and he vaguely wonders if either his heart has exploded or his body just gave up already.

“No, you don’t. You’re just drunk.” He protests. Wait, how did his hand end up gripping Kuroo’s arm?

“Am not, how dare you…!” He murmurs half-angrily. “Yer so cool all the time n’ stuff… didn’t think I liked glasses before you…”

Cool? Well, he can’t see his face right now, so obviously that can’t be proven wrong just yet.

“Love you, Tsukki.” He giggles, and for some reason it’s more difficult than he thought to get absolutely furious at his actions.

“…You’re so annoying.” Tsukishima is glad that Kuroo Tetsurou can’t see the deep red settling on his nose and cheeks. He’s so incredibly warm that he might start sweating, too. If he listens he can feel a heartbeat against his back. Has he ever felt that before? The smell of alcohol and spicy cologne isn’t exactly soothing.

Still, somehow he taps his fingers to the beat of a lullaby and hums it gently until he ends up falling into a light sleep with this weird jazz vocalist’s arms around him.

Lullaby of birdland whisper low Kiss me sweet, and we'll go Flying high in birdland, high in the sky up above All because we’re in love

“I thought I remembered waking up to an attractive guy.”

Tsukishima barely even blinks as he turns to face Kuroo standing in his doorway, hair even more wild than usual and his dress shirt still open. As he stands in the kitchen with a cup of black coffee, all he can do is sigh and try to control the irritation and fatigue that’s about to make his eyebrow start twitching.

“Good morning, Kuroo-san. Looks like you slept well.”

“Ha, hardly. One hell of a headache’s hitting me right now.” He groans and rubs his neck before stepping into the kitchen. “You got any Aspirin or something?”

“You can get it when Akaashi-san comes to pick you up. Would you hurry and fix your clothing? You still reek of alcohol.” Tsukishima grits out with a disgusted look.

Kuroo lets out a low whistle at the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted.”

“Well, no shit.” He has to try hard not to hiss out his answer, but he’s honestly just too much. “Try falling asleep with a giant, obnoxious drunken man clinging onto you like a leech.”

“Aw, I’m sorry that I was such a pain in the ass to deal with, I really am. Here, I’ll kiss it better.”

“As if I would want that!” He snaps back and sidesteps the arm trying to reach his shoulder. “Haven’t you harassed me enough?”

“Not quite.” Kuroo grins and places a kiss right on his forehead.

Kei is the one to take out the Aspirin for himself as if it can cure stubborn blushes.

“Hey, make me a coffee too?” He’s pleased when the bartender doesn’t fight too much against the arm around his shoulder. “Lots of cream and sugar, I’ll need it for later.”

“Then I’ll make it as black as your soul.”

“Don’t be mean, Tsukki, my head hurts.” He chuckles and bumps the sides of their heads together when he still adds a spoon of sugar to it anyway.

“You’re the worst.”

It’s been a week since The Incident happened at the bar, and technically his body is okay with walking around and such, but a weird part of his mind jumped onto the bandwagon of excuses the moment he realized he may have caught something. And before he knew it he was ringing up Yamaguchi to cover his shift for him even though he works on weekdays and sometimes Sundays. He’s going to have to make it up to him, he’s well aware of that, especially since Yamaguchi had hurriedly replied with a “Y-Yeah, sure! Get well soon, Tsukki!” and hung up to get ready without a single complaint.

But all of this just to avoid seeing Kuroo Tetsurou? The vocalist? The Annoying-As-All-Hell Cat and Most Irritating Man Alive?

Tsukishima rolls onto his stomach and buries his face into his pillow with a frustrated groan. This is so unlike him. The fever’s ruining him. When the reality sinks in it nearly drags him down into the floor in a puddle of humiliation. He’s skipping work just so he won’t have to see the man who kissed him and left his phone number on the inside of a decorative umbrella. (He threw it out, of course.) 

Feeling his chest and throat start to burn, he reaches over to the bedside table and grabs his phone, wincing at the blinding screen in the dark of the room. There’s about an hour left before Yamaguchi should be able to leave, but he still seriously considers calling him and telling him to go home, that he’ll be on his way to work right now.

Unfortunately, that means seeing the one person he’d rather die than make eye contact with again. The one that he knows- he doesn’t even need to think about it, he knows is performing at the bar again tonight.

And in that moment, he nearly hears that one stupid song he was singing again in his head:

With love to lead the way

I’ve found more clouds of gray

Than any Russian play can guarantee

Love.

…Love?

His entire face crinkles in shock and disgust that the word even lingered in his head for over a second, and he groans even louder than before and slams his feet into the mattress. No, no, no, no, no, no way. It’s not like he even has any experience in that department to begin with. So why did the word ‘love’ pop into his mind when he was thinking about what happened last week?

“What the hell…” The blonde-haired barista mutters to himself with a pillow closed over his ears as if to block out his own thoughts. Just thinking about him felt dangerous and he really needs to stop.

He should be going to work. He knows he should. But he just can’t bring his body to move from where it’s warm in his bed. Letting a sigh out of his nose, he reaches behind him for another pillow and hugs it to his chest. Maybe just for tonight it would be okay. Yamaguchi can leave in less than an hour, anyway, and he can cover his shift for him next time, too. Plus if he falls asleep he can finally get that irritating guy out of his head. His breathing slows and begins to even out, feeling his eyelids start to grow heavy again.

Yeah. Just for tonight, it’ll be fine.

With that peaceful sentence floating around, amber eyes close in the dark and wait for sleep to find him.

Of course, until the ringing of his phone next to his pillow makes him jump and nearly go deaf.

Scratching at his curly hair with a yawn, he impatiently reaches for it and squints at the screen as his ringtone goes off. It’s a number with the same area code, but Yamaguchi’s name isn’t displayed at the bottom. It doesn’t look like it’s a telemarketer. A sigh leaves him before he slides the answer button.

“Hello-”

“Yo, Tsukki-!”

The line cuts off in less than a second. Somehow without even thinking he instinctively hung up.

A sense of dread starts to build up in his chest and tighten there, and his features curl into a frown as he stares at the blinking numbers recording the minutes and seconds. The call was exactly two seconds long.

“Shit,” He hisses to himself, curling up and pressing his face into the pillow he’d been holding.

His phone starts ringing again. He doesn’t even need to look at the caller ID to know who it is.

“What do you want, Kuroo-san?” Tsukishima flatly says into the phone. Every cell in his body is irritated now. He wonders if he has some sort of magic trick.

“Nothing much, really. Unfriendly as always, huh?” Even his voice is humiliating to listen to after spending more than five minutes thinking about who it belonged to. “I heard from a certain someone that you weren’t feeling too good tonight, so I thought I’d call and check in. You don’t sound too good. Fever?”

A vein nearly pops out of his forehead. “Yamaguchi gave you my phone number?”

A chuckle resounds on the other end of the line. “Yup.” The way he could almost hear the other’s smile makes him want to hang up again. “He’s a nice kid, y’know. It took a little convincing, but I’m glad you actually got a good friend like that.”

“You say that like you’re surprised I can communicate with other members of the human race.”

He’s met with loud laughter and almost needs to pull the phone away from his ear. “Hey, hey, don’t take it the wrong way, Tsukki. I’m just messin’ with you.”

“Could you please not call me that?” Tsukishima hopes that his frown is audible from where he is. He can hear the clinking of bottles and murmurs of customers chattering in the background; the bar sounds a bit busier than usual tonight. Or at least busier than it was last week.

“Why not? It suits you. Yamaguchi calls you Tsukki all the time, doesn’t he?”

The blonde doesn’t hold back his frustrated sigh into the phone. “We’ve known each other since middle school. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Social little butterfly, aren’t you?”

“Hardly.”

Silence hangs for a moment. The words come out on their own.

“So? Did you actually call out of concern, or are you just trying to infect me even further with second-hand stupidity?”

Kuroo sighs. “You know, Tsukki, you really gotta drop that pessimistic way of thinking. I got a surprise for you, that’s why I called.”

He quirks an eyebrow even though he knows Kuroo can’t see it. “A surprise?”

“Yeah. I’m about to leave the bar in a few minutes and I’m gonna get you something to help you get better since tonight’s show’s over already.”

“I already have medicine here.”

“It’s more on the metaphorical side.”

“Will I bleed?”

More chuckling. “No, you beansprout. Listen. Twenty minutes from now, head out to the front of your apartment and wait for me.”

“Are you serious?” He blinks and involuntarily raises his voice. “I’ve got a fever. Besides, how do you even know where I live?”

“Ah, c’mon, you can’t live that far from the bar. I’ll find ya.”

“That’s creepy.” He doesn’t bother restraining the disgusted tone. “I could have you reported for harassment, Kuroo-san.”

“Just do it, Kei.” Tsukishima’s eye twitches at the nicknames and opens his mouth for a snarky comeback when the line goes dead.

With a heavy sigh, he closes his eyes and hits his phone against his forehead. “Unbelievable.”

Unbelievable.

“Unbelievable.” He whispers to himself twenty-three minutes later as he waits in the chilly night air outside the front doors of his apartment dressed in a baggy hoodie, sweatpants, his breaking Converse he normally would have worn to work, and a blanket over his shoulders. White puffs of breath fan out in front of his nose and mouth, and a flickering street lamp nearby dyes the sidewalk in an orange light.

Tsukishima curls himself inwards, tugging the thick blanket further around his shoulders and burying his mouth into the folds of his hoodie. It seems like it isn’t the fever that’s making his face hot anymore. The winter air almost hurts to breathe in and freezes his throat. And as he stands there in the light of a street lamp, questioning himself and all of his life’s decisions as a few snowflakes start to rain down, he wonders what he’s doing right now.

Kuroo Tetsurou. The vocalist. The Annoying-As-All-Hell Cat. The Most Irritating Man Alive. What is he doing, right now, in this moment of time?

His glasses start to fog up and he lifts his nose from his hoodie to stare at the white fluff beginning to fall. Why is he even here? Why is he doing this? Does it matter? Does any of it? They just met each other at the same bar he worked at part-time. That irritating man doesn’t owe him anything. So why?

His phone rings in his pocket for only a second before it’s up against his ear. “Where are you, Kuroo-san?”

“H-Hold on, I think I’m almost there.” He’s panting heavily, and something’s crinkling like scrunched-up paper. “I’ve been around to almost every apartment near the bar, I’m coming up to one now. You waiting in front?”

There it is again. The weird heat tickling his cheeks. He knows it’s there.

“…Yes.” He mumbles.

“Good,” Kuroo nearly blurts out the word from how breathless he is, and Tsukishima jumps when he hears him gasp. “Oh, is that you? The guy with the dumb plaid blanket?”

He curses the way his own heart jumps in anticipation, and he lifts the phone away from his face for a minute to squint at the dark roads in front of him. Sure enough, a strange-looking silhouette is stumbling towards him, and he’s pretty sure that’s not how any serial killer stalks its prey.

Or maybe it is one in the form of Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Ah, I see you!” Kuroo laughs into the phone and hangs up.

“Heyyyyyyyyyyyy, Tsukkiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” The most obnoxious voice he’s ever heard in his life is running towards him at full speed-

With a bouquet of roses and carnations that are lightly covered in snow and half falling apart.

Kuroo doesn’t look that much better himself. His cheeks and ears are red from the cold and his brown scarf is unwinding around his neck. Rapid puffs of white breath stream out from his lips as he runs down the sidewalk, bouquet crinkling as he does so. It’s almost like he forgot completely that he was even carrying flowers to begin with, because petals are dropping all over the place and Tsukishima cringes at the sight. Kuroo is still wearing his typical red tie and dress shirt and pants and a black jacket, but it’s the expectant smirk on his face that really gets to him.

Kei can only wonder how dumbfounded he must look from staring at a man a centimeter taller than him, panting, his clothes a complete mess, and a bouquet of red flowers falling apart in his arms all while standing in the snow at two in the morning.

“Yo.” The vocalist grins a suspicious-looking cat grin. “Sorry for the wait.”

More silence. In a moment like this, there’s only one instinct he knows how to respond with.

He turns around and starts walking. “I’m going home.”

“Hey, hey, hey, wait!” A hand on his shoulder is enough to stop his movement, and Tsukishima knows that Kuroo will definitely notice the red spread across his cheeks and nose. “At least take the flowers. They worked hard to make it this far.”

When he half-turns around and eyes the flowers warily, he can’t stop himself from letting a light snort out of his nose. “What kind of flower shop is open after midnight?”

“I know a guy. Phew.” Kuroo wipes the sweat from his brow while looking extremely proud of himself as he shoves the large bouquet into his arms. “Sorry that they’re a little-”

“Hideous?” The blonde is still smiling; lightly, just lightly, but enough for him to see.

“I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘mildly worn’.” Kuroo slings an arm around Tsukishima, completely ignoring the fact that he’s sick. “But hey, the florist said roses and carnations don’t have exposed pollen or whatever, and they’re good get-well flowers.”

His glasses shine over, and he buries his nose back into his hoodie and blanket while grabbing the bouquet. “…How many horrible romance dramas have you been watching?”

“Enough to win you over.” Kuroo bumps the side of his head against Tsukishima’s, eliciting a grunt that meant ‘don’t push it, asshole’.

“You could have at least bought poinsettias.”

“What, to match the winter mood? But this one had roses. Y'know, the flower of love.”

“You are so unbelievably…”

Smirk. “What? Handsome?”

“Obnoxious.”

“Aw, Tsukki. You know you love me.”

“I don’t.” His heart’s going to explode from pure fury, and he tries to shrug off Kuroo from his shoulder. It doesn't work since he only tightens his hold.

“Then why’d you wait?”

“Right, I should have let you die of hypothermia.” He deadpans it like he realized that was a better solution and flatly slaps a hand to his forehead. “Silly me.”

“Tch. Sou-r-puss.” The black-haired man nuzzles his hair a little after he enunciates every vowel, and Kei nearly withers away from his touch upon remembering what happened last week. “But y’know, I think we can make this whole ‘seeing-each-other-once-a-week’ thing work out. So hurry up and get back to the bar, will ya? It doesn’t feel the same if you’re not there watching me perform.”

Tsukishima points a glare at him, though his heart stutters at the last sentences. “Like there was even a ‘thing’ to begin with.”

“Not that it matters,” Kuroo hums, drumming a few fingers on his shoulder. “’Sides, even if you don’t love me now-”

He cuts himself off just so he can circle around him and press a kiss onto Tsukishima’s lips, still keeping an arm around him to play with the hair at the back of his neck. His fingers are cold, and Tsukishima’s entire body freezes up immediately.

Yet, somehow, he was expecting it. Not just the kiss, but the scent of a spicy-smelling cologne and alcohol.

When he’s finally satisfied with kissing the blonde until he’s red in the face, he leans back with a grin as if to admire his handiwork just to continue where he left off:

“I’m sure that’ll change soon.”

Tsukishima’s lips are still trembling, along with his fingers. Why? He should have known that he was going to pull a move like that again, but why was he still shaking? Why didn’t he move away? Was it that no matter how many times he’d kiss him, he’d have the same reaction?

“You fucking-”

“Whooooo, was that a swear just now? Out of the mouth of the ever-articulate Kei-kun?”

“I’m going home. Take your flowers back so they can die in peace.”

“Aw, that’s heartless, Tsukki! And after I came all the way here just to deliver them to you, that’s how you repay your senpai?”

“You’re only two years older than me, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“By the way, what’d you do with my number, anyway?”

“I burned it.”

“C’mon, you’re awful!”

“Says the one who assaulted me last week.”

And as he stomps back into the building with red cheeks and his laces undone, there’s only one thought, one person in his mind.

Kuroo Tetsurou. The vocalist. The Annoying-As-All-Hell Cat. The Most Irritating Man Alive. The one who kissed him twice.

It definitely took a few performances before they actually got anywhere, but once they started coming, it was like every female in a fifty-foot radius came flocking through the doors the second the black-haired vocalist cleared his throat into the microphone. At first he was convinced it was because of the same cheesy opening line at the start of every show:

“Yo, ladies and gentlemen- but mostly ladies. How’ve you all been doing tonight?” Then he’ll take the hand of a girl nearby and press a kiss to the top of it. “It’s made my night just to see your faces.”

After that, any existing woman is then degenerated to a blushing schoolgirl while Tsukishima rolls his eyes at the back of the bar. Since then, there was barely even enough room to walk, more or less breathe through the crowd of girls pulling their chairs up to the stage. It is literally impossible to describe how much he doesn’t want to mop the floors when there is music playing in the pub.

“Just doing my job,” He mutters under his breath in response to the shushes and condescending looks from the women he pushes through.

A lucky star’s above

But not for me

Tsukishima always tries to occupy himself as much as humanely possible while he’s on night shift. After all, there’s no way he’d just stop and stare to watch that weird band perform and click away at their instruments and listen to that vocalist with the wild black hair that looks a little too much like an untamed lion mane. But at the same time, he’s sort of okay with that image. ‘Wild’ is probably one of the best words to describe him; he’s like a tornado.

When he’s not busy wiping the tables or mopping the more uninhabited side of the bar, he’ll go behind the counter and start cleaning out some of the cups still left in the sink. Unfortunately, the only thing left for him to do at that stage is listen to his music, which worked effectively while they were performing. The whole point of the oversized white headphones is to block out the world and all its vibrations, which works pretty well on night shifts. The boss doesn’t mind too much either, as long as he doesn’t wear them when he’s actually serving people.

That is, until the day his phone died in his pocket and a string of quiet curses could barely be heard from behind the bar counter. It almost felt like he was being tortured, having to listen to that guy’s singing against his own will when he’d much rather be listening to his own personal preferences.

He tried his best to tune out those damn drums and the voice, he really did. But as experience tells him, he’s quite defenceless without his presence headphones. So he ended up listening a bit. And it was sort of good. Just a little. Nothing more.

After that incident, he started bringing regular earbuds to work. And sometimes he’d only leave one in and leave the other by his neck. But only sometimes. It’s not like the vocalist with the stupid hair had a nice voice or anything really worth listening to. Not at all.

With love to lead the way

I’ve found more clouds of gray

Than any Russian play

Could guarantee

Speaking of which, he did take up quite the spotlight while on stage. Sure, the other members were definitely there, but he just seemed to stand out the most. The way he’d sway along to the beat, occasionally lean on the piano or nudge a band member when they pulled a particularly risky riff. The way he’d twirl the microphone cord around his fingers every once in a while or reach out a hand to someone in the audience. The way his sly eyes would give a grin of their own the second the drum hit its last beat.

Tsukishima had noticed more that he’d liked to. He hated that.

Everything about him was absolutely irritating. Irritating, irritating, irritating-

And yet here he was, tapping his foot and waiting for said vocalist to finish his damn martini that he specifically requested have a little umbrella on the side.

Again. Irritating.

The blonde sighed. Of all people to be left here, it had to be him. The rest of the bar was almost completely empty at this point save a few people who had fallen asleep on the tables- the manager would deal with them later. To be honest, he was in quite the predicament. After serving this bastard he would be able to dump the dishes into the sink and just head home, but he seemed to be taking his time drinking it while sitting directly in front of him at the bar counter. The rest of the band members had gone home for the night, apparently, and the vocalist had spent enough time with the girls to get most of them to back off with promises of coming back again next Saturday.

I was a fool to fall

And get this way

Even so, as Tsukishima idly dragged a cloth across the already-clean counter, he couldn’t wait for him to just get up and leave. He’d been staring at him for what felt like ten hours under the hazy light from the bar.

It was completely unlike him to start conversation, but amber eyes flickered to the figure across from him. “If you keep booking performance times every Saturday night, one of these days you’re going to be assaulted by a mob of drunken women at two in the morning.” He points a glare at him and his stupid martini upon remembering how many times he’d seen his name scribbled on the calendar next to the stage. “Kuroo-san.”

“Hmmm?” Said man hums in response and fixes his gaze on Tsukishima, using one hand to hold his glass and the other to loosen his black tie even more. “Do I detect worry-” He leans across the counter and squints a little bit to stare at his name tag. “Tsukishima-kun?”

“Whatever sensors you’re using are definitely broken.” A hand brings down a glass a little too hard into the sink, causing a loud clinking noise. “Dealing with the interviewers asking for the details of your death would be a pain. And it would give a bad reputation to the bar amongst the female customers.” Just as he thought, he’s as irritating as he looks.

Hi ho alas and also lackaday

“Suppose so, huh?” The black-haired vocalist chuckles and rests an arm on the table with a grin. “Wouldn’t want your pay to be cut short.”

“Exactly.” He’s glad that he’s able to respond to his remarks without skipping a beat. “So please hurry and finish your drink and I can go home for the night.”

“This a one-night jig or something? You come here often?”

That smirk won’t leave his face, and Tsukishima can nearly feel the vein popping out of his forehead before huffing and scrubbing at the cups a bit more violently. “I happen to work here, so yes. Please hurry and finish your drink.” First he takes ten minutes to get halfway through his martini and now he starts questioning his aptitude to work in a bar part-time? God, all he has to do is finish the damn martini-

He’s still not amused by the rather loud laughter coming from the other side of the counter and the wave of his hand. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You work here weekends, right? You’re almost always working in the background during showtimes if I remember right. You’ve got height.”

At this, he shifts a little in his apron and breaking Converse. He’d noticed Kuroo since the first times he started coming, but he hadn’t known it went both ways. Well, it was only natural once he’d been here so many times.

“Yes, I work on weekends.” Tsukishima replies curtly before grabbing another cloth to dry the cup in his damp hands. “Are you finished with your drink yet?”

Much to his chagrin, his question is completely ignored, followed by: “I see, I see. The name’s Tetsurou, by the way, twenty years old. Nice to meet you. I was planning on introducing myself a while back, but I never got around to it.” He leans his chin into his palm, and it suddenly dawns on him how much he looks like a cat. “So? What do you go by?”

“You read my name tag.”

“Your name tag doesn’t give out your full name and age, does it?”

“I don’t give my full name and age to vocalists who are going to get me sued if they get attacked for going home too late at night.”

That cunning grin sneaks onto his lips again, and he stirs his drink slowly while keeping his eyes on Tsukishima. “I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem if you came with me, Tsukishima-kun.”

His body involuntarily jerks in shock before realizing the current situation, which was then reacted to by a strange heat rushing to his face. Was it through anger? Most likely, there’s no way he would ever feel embarrassed from this guy, of all people. Luckily he managed to fight down the reaction before it was noticeable, but he still felt like this Tetsurou would have caught even the slightest hint of a response.

Instead he heaves out a sigh and pushes up his glasses. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, Kuroo-san?” Another cup is forcefully wedged into the dishwasher, his fingers turning white from how tightly they’re closed around the glass.

“Hah, me? No way. I’m like this with everyone.” He casually says, and finally tips the glass to drink the rest of the martini still sitting in it. “But you know, I really do wish you’d tell me a little bit about yourself. It’s common courtesy, isn’t it?”

“I’m not obliged to tell you anything while I’m still on working hours.” It’s getting harder and harder to put up with this guy by the second, and he all he hopes for in the world is for him to just leave already.

“Ah, you have a point there.” Again, he uses two fingers to loosen his tie even though the two top buttons are popped open and revealing his collarbones. “How about we talk about it when you’re off the clock?”

Thoroughly at the end of his rope (though he was since that guy sat down), he closes his eyes with an aggravated frown and reaches for the now-empty martini glass. “No matter how you try to negotiate, you’re not going to convince me to-”

Tsukishima cuts off his own sentence when he looks up to see Kuroo leaning back with the glass between his fingers, waving it teasingly with the umbrella still sitting on the edge. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you just then.”

His eye twitches. The blood in his veins is nearly going to boil if this guy doesn’t get the hell out of the bar, and soon.

“Tsukishima Kei. I’m going to be nineteen in September.” He grits out, still not letting up his deathly glare. “Please give me your glass, now.”

The other man lets out a whistle, seeming to finally be satisfied when he got him to talk. “As you wish.” With that, he slides the glass to him, which he swiftly picks up. The blonde is just about to turn to the sink and say goodnight-

When suddenly a hand is pulling at his collar and tugging him over the counter.

His eyes are open the whole time, but it feels like he’s not registering any movement correctly. The dim lights of the bar blur together and his senses finally wake up again when he feels a pair of lips crashing against his own and a strange heat spreading throughout his entire body.

When it finally sinks in that this vocalist, a stranger, is kissing him for no reason at all; it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought. Sure, his eyes are wide and he’s not sure if he just dropped the martini glass, but that’s not what gets him flustered.

The taste.

It’s a slightly sweet and sour taste, and without even realizing that it was from the remnants of the martini left on the vocalist’s lips, it makes everything inside him boil and burn with embarrassment and he can almost swear that his stomach is turning purple from it-

And then he pulls away.

In a split second the warmth flees from his face, and all that’s left is his gawking face as Kuroo slings his jacket over his shoulder and leans in one last time to huskily whisper into his ear:

“Thanks for the info, Kei.”

And just like that, he walks out of the bar without even taking his change.

Tsukishima needs a few seconds to recover from what just happened, and to collect his thoughts. It’s painfully obvious and straightforward what he just did to him, but he feels almost violated somehow. Where did it come from? Technically he was still underage, he wasn’t supposed to drink, and yet… it’s still there. The taste is still lingering on his lips.

All he can do when he notices that is slap a hand over his mouth and try to control the red that’s rapidly spread across his cheeks. How many people were just watching…? He checks. Two women were facing away from him at the moment, and the other four are still asleep or drowsily playing cards. But if he were to pull another surprise attack again, there’s no guarantee that he’ll be as lucky next time.

With a bit of a groan, he pulls off his smudged glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose to try to will his heart to slow down.

“That irritating son of a…” He mutters under his breath, before grabbing the glass angrily. The tiny umbrella he specifically requested drops to the counter, and while mentally swearing at everything he sees some sort of scribbling on the inside.

No.

He didn’t.

He’s ashamed to admit that he’s almost frightened as he turns the paper umbrella inside out.

‘Call me ;)’

Even though he should have been washing the dishes and going home, he spared a minute to lean his head into his hands with his elbows resting on the counter, eyes shut and his head whirling with mixed emotions.

Although I can’t dismiss

The memory of her kiss

I guess she’s not

If there was anything he knew for sure about him, it was that Kuroo Tetsurou was a very irritating man.

There’s so much blood. Why is there so much blood? He’s seen it before, but there’s just so much of it. He runs over to Gon, who’s laying face-down on the ground in a spreading pool of red. How did that happen?

His whole body breaks into a cold sweat as he kneels down to turn him over and slip his hands under him.

“Gon! What happened? Hang in there! Can you hear me?” Killua shakes him, but his eyes still look empty and the front of his entire body is splattered in red. “Gon!” Clicking his tongue but feeling his entire world start to rip at the seams, he starts to loop his arm around his shoulder and tug upwards to get him into a standing position. “Hold on! We’re gonna go get help right away, so just wait a little longer!” Even as he speaks, he’s shaking like there’s no tomorrow. He can nearly feel the boy next to him fading away. Slowly, painfully leaving this world. Maybe he can’t even hear him. Who would he call? Where should he go? His mind can’t come to an answer.

A jolt goes through his body, and he slowly lifts his left hand up to his line of sight only to find it soaked in blood, his nails deathly sharp and veins pulsing under his skin; he nearly drops Gon right then and there from how he’s stopped breathing.

“Why, Killua?”

His trembling lips barely part to scream out:

“It-”

  ***

  “-wasn’t me!”

The next time he feels anything, it’s the cold night air against his skin. There’s still a bit of warmth provided from the sleeping bag he’s in and the fire crackling quietly behind him, but it takes him a few seconds for the world to come into focus again.

His chest is heaving and his back and forehead are slick with cold sweat. It’s unbearable to leave his legs overheating in the sleeping bag, so he pulls them out and slaps a hand to his face. Get it together, get it together. It was just a nightmare. Even as he tells himself that, his head is still spinning and pounding. Closing his eyes and sucking in a breath, he tangles his fingers into his wild hair. Pathetic. Screaming and waking up in the middle of the night just because of a dream.

Because of Gon.

When the name comes into his mind, he turns his head to see said boy beside him without a hole in his stomach and not covered in his own blood. That alone warrants a sigh of relief, but Killua blinks when he realizes his eyes are starting to open. Shit.

“Killua, what’s wrong?” Gon slowly props himself up on an elbow and rubs at his eyes with a yawn. “You can’t sleep?”

He bites his lip, suddenly feeling guilty for being so evasive. Gon already knows that he can go a day or two without sleep, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to say that. He looks away from him and runs a hand through his hair.

“It’s nothing.” He mutters. “Sorry for waking you up.”

Naturally, Gon doesn't buy it, and he quirks an eyebrow at him. “Really? Did something happen?”

His pure concern only frustrates and confuses him further, and before he can stop them the words just fly out. “It’s nothing, I’m fine! Just… Promise me something.”

“What?”

Killua takes in a breath and slowly lets it out of his mouth, trying to assemble the right sentences together. “If… I ever look like I’m going to go crazy, you have to get away from me right away. Go anywhere but where I am. Got it?”

“Killua-”

But he can’t stop. The words keep tangling up and coming out. “And if there’s ever a time when you have to find Ging and leave me, don’t wait for me, just go! And if we get split up, make sure you keep looking for him! You have to find him! Understand?”

“Killua, wait-”

Trying to hold back the exasperated tears, he turns his face fully to Gon with his blood feeling like it's going to boil.“Promise me! You have to promise me that you won’t die, no matter what! I won’t allow it!”

The whole time he’s been unable to read Gon’s expression. He looks hurt and confused and a mix of everything, but now Killua’s just burning in shame for blurting all of that out.

“Dammit.” He curses under his breath and grabs at his bangs again, pulling relentlessly. There’s a moment of silence. Gon must be trying to process everything.

After those few seconds, he speaks again.

“Okay. I promise.”

Killua opens his eyes and turns to him, shocked to see a smile and his pinky held out.

“To be honest, I don’t really think there’s a chance you’ll go crazy, so I can’t promise you everything, but I’ll try not to die!” He gives Killua a bright smile, so bright he almost has to look away again. “What? Hurry up!” He leans forward to loop his pinky around his and shake, and that little song comes out:

“I pinky promise that I’ll try my best not to die because Killua’llgetmad-” He has to squish the last words together so it’ll fit with the tune, and all the other can do is stare with a dumbfounded look. “If I break my promise I have to swallow a thousand needles! Pinky promise made!”

“Sealed with a kissssssss!” Gon draws out the last ‘s’ to reach over and press his thumb against Killua’s, but the latter is still so startled by his actions that he doesn't press back entirely.

“There!” Gon pulls his hand away, and suddenly Killua’s feels extremely cold. “But don’t worry, Killua. If I’m in trouble, you’re always the one who saves me in the end, so there’s no way I’ll die!”

“Y…Yeah.” Killua just stares down at his pinky for a few seconds, trying to process how that was an appropriate reaction to the situation. But still, it was very in-character for Gon to do that.

With that said and done, the black-haired boy snuggles back into his sleeping bag and rolls over. “Goodnight, Killua.”

“…Yeah. Goodnight.”

In a few moments he’s already out like a light, but Killua’s still staring at his hand. Wasn’t that the first time he’d ever made a pinky promise?

For some reason he feels so much calmer than before, and a faint smile manages to touch his face. He looks a little closer at his thumb. Well, with this done, it would be easier to remind Gon before he did anything stupid, so it was a bonus, if anything.

But still. It felt special, somehow.

It’s like a light brush. He presses his thumb onto his lips briefly and touches it to Gon’s forehead. One last mumble. 

“Sealed with a kiss.”

Though his face is already relaxed, Killua only turns his head slightly to stare at the other boy's vibrant face beside him. Taking pleasure in a natural occurrence at night was something only Gon could do. But still, he's not wrong. 

Head cradled in his hands, he looks back up at the sky. They're like bright little freckles popping out from the black. "Isn't it always like this here? There's practically no pollution or anything, so of course you can see the stars every night." 

The fire crackling behind them gives off a steady warmth, one that he's not sure he's felt in a long while; or maybe it's because there's another one right next to him. 

Gon hums a little before stretching his arms up above him. "Hmm, I guess so. But I think it's different tonight since you're staying over." 

Killua quirks an eyebrow at him. "What's that mean?" 

He has to take another second to think, looking like he's concentrating hard until he just grins again. "I don't really know. But you know what? I think the sky reminds me of you." 

"Hah?" Now Killua's even more confused. Gon's head seems like some sort of giant hurricane that never settles on one thought for long, and obviously, incapable of entering. 

The dark-haired boy isn't phased at all by his reaction, and just continues on with that bright smile. "At first I thought it was because you usually wear darker clothes and your hair's kinda the same colour as the stars if you look close enough. But then I figured out why-" With a turn of the head, their eyes meet. "It's because when I look up, you're always there." 

A sharp intake of breath makes his chest tighten, the pure innocence and sincerity that is Gon making an unexpected heat rush to his cheeks and his hair stand on end. His muscles seem to be moving on reflex, because he sits up sharply to snap at him: "S-Stupid! What's that supposed to mean? Quit using metaphors for everything!" 

Gon actually looks a little hurt, but it's mostly confusion as he tips his head to the side in question. "Why? Was I wrong? We're always together, aren't we?" 

Unable to keep looking at him with a straight face, Killua raises one hand to ruffle the hair at the back of his head and the other to pluck at the grass beneath them. "W-Well, yeah! But..." He looks up quickly to point a heated glare at him. "If I'm the sky, then what does that make you?" 

At this, Gon sits up too and crosses his legs. "I'd be the ground, right? The ground and sky aren't ever that far apart, and neither are we!" He rips out a blade of grass and tries to use it as a whistle between his fingers, but no sound comes out. "Aw." 

"Yeah, they are! The ground and sky are miles away from each other, stupid!" Killua's face is getting hotter and hotter, yet he can't pinpoint exactly why that is, and why it's only Gon that can get this sort of reaction from him. It seriously isn't fair. 

"Ah!" Gon's entire face lights up realizing something, and gives Killua a pure smile with just a flash of teeth:

"Then I'll just be the stars!"