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From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
It is an accumulation of instances. Bullies and playgrounds and "that's lame". Volleyball. "Kei-kun". Study sessions that turn into hanging out together.
Yamaguchi Tadashi is an accumulation of instances. Fleeting moments that Kei has never thought to pay any heed until he realizes that it's too late to make—and want—any changes.
Frame by frame of walking home together, laughing at the shenanigans of that stupid First Year Duo, of talking about homework, of eating popsicles after school.
Moments of happiness and pain and annoyance and motivation that piled up high enough to procure a ludicrous result.
A soulmate.
Yamaguchi Tadashi is his soulmate.
Kei knows this for a fact ever since Tadashi branded himself into his skin in the form of three words on Kei's 18th birthday.
I'm sorry, Tsukki.
Like that's all Tadashi is worth. Like it's enough, like that's what makes them fated. Kei doesn't fully believe in blind faith and—and destiny, not when he has to work hard to see actual progress, not when he has his mark and nothing is happening.
I'm sorry, Tsukki.
Kei is 25 years old now. He is not a child anymore. There is no use believing in such a childish notion, even when all everybody cares about is finding that one perfect fit of a person destined to be with you.
(He cares. Of course he does. He's a loser like that.)
It's been two years since they talked to each other.
Kei wishes he could forget, sometimes.
∞
It's not his fault.
He knows this. This is a fact. Something logic and science can prove. Something that does not come from his fleeting self-righteousness and arrogance.
Life just works like that, sometimes.
Kei lets it be. Does not accept it—no, quite far from it, but he lets it be because life has always been something out of his control.
It's not his fault, they tell him.
He knows. Of course he does. He's not an idiot.
It's not your fault, Tsukki.
He knows.
It still hurts.
It's not supposed to.
∞
He's in the same place—the same country, the same year, the same air. He's far away though, far enough to be separated and not quite near enough to bridge the gap. He's not sure if he had been the one who moved, or everybody else just stopped. Stopped because they found reasons to stay. Because they found something they deemed enough to ground them.
That sounds tiring.
(He wants it. He wants something like that, too.)
He's in a different city. Different people, different expectations, but they blur together day by day until Kei is left trying to muffle the sound of his past ringing in his ears, until everything looks the same in the end, until he couldn't make sense of the words inside his head, until exhaustion weighs down his consciousness and he's falling down.
And down.
And down.
And down.
Kei wonders what it feels like to be alive.
He forgets, sometimes.
∞
People ask him why he quit volleyball when he has so much potential. Like volleyball is the only thing he has in life, the only thing he's good at. Like he couldn't live without it, like it's the only reason why he met so many amazing individuals, and that it's also the reason why he—
People ask him why.
He doesn't answer. They don't expect him to. He's Tsukishima Kei; he only answers when he wants to.
He doesn't tell them why.
He doesn't know the answer either.
∞
He's working as a teacher in science. Physics, to be exact. It's a far cry from his first job at the museum—way more exhausting physically and mentally.
He hates it, not because he hates Physics, but rather because it doesn't make sense. Why is he here? Why did gravity pull him towards this particular side of the world, away from his friends, his family, and everything he has ever known?
More importantly, why didn't he even fight it?
There is probably no mathematical formula that can explain the contradiction of his heart and mind. People are stupid like that, only applying logic to everything but emotions.
(He hates it. He hates it here so much.)
It's not always miserable. He's not some shameless entitled son of a bitch who thinks life fucks him over ten times a month. Some days are good. Majority is boring at most. Empty. Certainly not that awful, no matter how much he wants to make it sound like he's treading on the very last strings of his sanity.
Still.
Why didn't he fight it?
∞
Kei is not sick. It's the world. There's nothing wrong with him. He doesn't need anybody's validations. To this day, he doesn't know why Hinata keeps sending him long messages when October¹ comes. He doesn't understand why his high school acquaintances (in another instance, he would have called them friends, but that period in time had already passed, and there's no use for sentiments anyway) gave him sad and pitying looks when he informed them he would be moving away.
I'm sorry, Tsukki.
He's not sick.
It's the world.
∞
There are times when Kei hurts.
It's a fleeting moment, a small crack in ice, a glitch in the system.
It doesn't happen that much, but when it does, it hits him hard.
He could be in class, babbling about Theory of Relativity, maybe explaining thermodynamics, and it will hurt, right in his chest, right where he couldn't see what the fuck is wrong.
It hurts in a way that feels like fire: burning, boiling, leaving ugly blisters that nobody else sees, that nobody wants to see.
Today, watching the tenth thriller anime episode in a row, it hurts.
It feels a little like bleeding, only that nothing is red and the floor is clean and Kei is still alive.
Stop.
It feels a lot like bleeding, but Kei does not see where it's leaking, if there's anything leaking at all.
Stop.
It feels a lot like bleeding.
Please.
But Kei is not enjoying it as much as he thought he would.
A lifetime passes before he remembers how to breathe.
Please.
∞
Deluding himself into thinking that he isn't lonely gets easier after the tenth try.
Of course, even this very train of thought is shoved at the back of his mind. After all, delusion does not work when you actively think about the truth.
He is living pretty decently, if he does say so himself. Stable job, a spacious living area, three meals a day. . . It's more than what most have.
He completely ignores the bags under his eyes whenever he looks into the mirror, the flab of fat in his stomach where lean muscle used to be.
Some things are best left alone.
∞
Sometimes, when it's too quiet, he remembers the reason why he's here in the first place.
He makes sure to raise the volume of the television when that happens.
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
Kuroo Tetsurou arranges meetings, preferably on the third or fourth week of every month, like clockwork. Kei doesn't know why, but he rarely has any valid reason to decline the invitation so he always ends up hanging out with him anyway.
Sometimes Kenma joins them, although after that Bar Incident, Kei and Kuroo made a wordless compromise to keep the meetings between the two of them as much as possible. Kenma, for all he's worth, is still a piece of shit to those he blatantly does not like.
Life has been good to Kuroo. Kei cannot remember a time when his senior didn't smile. Maybe having his soulmate by his side since childhood makes him think like everything will fall into place eventually.
Huh. Kei used to have that, too, that dumb hope.
"How's school?"
"I thought I told you to stop making it sound like I still go to school."
"Eh, and miss that lovely sneer?"
"..."
"Kenma and I are engaged. You should go to our engagement party."
"No, thanks."
"Come on, man, he won't be there if you don't—"
"His presence makes little difference to me."
"Then what's the problem?"
Nothing. Kei has no problems. He's been living a good life. He's been teaching kids and helping them find their paths in the future. He has zero worries.
He tells Kuroo this much, that the guests don't matter to him, that he simply does not want to go.
As expected, Kuroo drops the subject with a sigh. He isn't one to push topics, after all. He asks Kei about the most random things, barely bringing up volleyball or their past. He tells Kei about his job, that being a chemical engineer isn't as fun as he thought it would be. He talks about Kenma and always having to clean up after him. Kuroo talks and talks and talks.
Kei wishes he could try that hard.
∞
At night, when half of the world dreams, Kei lies awake and thinks about the what ifs he left behind.
It's not regret, per se, but rather morbid curiosity.
What would it have been like, if he were braver?
∞
He doesn't dream anymore. At least, not of him.
Grey blobs replace what used to be flashes of teeth and bright eyes and green. Lifeless and boring and meaningless, just like what his present has been reduced to.
He doesn't dream of him anymore.
(What would it take to see him again?)
∞
On this side of Japan, nobody bothers him. His students are scared of him and his co-workers are mere acquaintances at most. It's not that he's distancing himself on purpose—things and people are just not the same on this side of the country.
Nothing's ever the same to you, Tsukki.
He's selfish. That's all there is to it. He's a selfish bastard who chose solitude because the alternative is living with the fact that his soulmate does not want anything to do with him as a lover, and while most people would be okay with the latter, of course Kei can't settle for less, can't settle for what he doesn't want.
Ah, yes.
It always comes down to that, doesn't it?
Fucking hell.
It's not his fault, they say. He knows. He knows that like the back of his hand. He doesn't feel guilty because there's nothing to be guilty about.
It's not his fault.
At times like this, under the trickle of shower that have long turned cold, he can't help but think he fucked up anyway.
∞
The worst thing, he thinks, is that everyone sees a level-headed, intelligent, successful person when they look at Tsukishima Kei.
Not pathetic.
Not miserable.
Not lonely.
Just Mister Tsukishima Kei and his perfect little life.
∞
He's wrong.
The worst thing is he doesn't have enough guts to show the world that he's a dysfunctional asshole.
∞
"Why are you calling?"
"No."
"I said no, Hinata."
"I couldn't be busy?"
". . . No."
"No, I didn't mean to sound like a jerk."
"Yes, I do know how to apologize, idiot."
"Why are you pushing this?"
"No."
"Okay."
"I said okay."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Whatever."
∞
Kei was 16 years old when he fell in love. In a way, he shouldn't have been surprised that his soulmate turned out to be the same person he had been pining after for years.
Amidst the gruelling volleyball training and draining school work, Kei was able to squeeze in moments upon moments of falling in love with his best friend.
He shouldn't have been surprised.
Still, he hid the truth from Tadashi when his soulmate mark appeared on his 18th birthday, the three familiar words etched on his left ankle branding him for life. Branding him for Tadashi.
Unsurprisingly, Tadashi hadn't asked. He never pushed Kei for anything, never pressured him into doing something he didn't want to.
(Kei will never admit it, but he had hoped that Tadashi already knew the two of them were meant to be.)
When Tadashi turned 18 a few months later, he was watching the stars with Kei. He had requested to sleep over at Kei's, using his nerves as an excuse.
When Tadashi received his mark, Kei had his first kiss.
∞
His first kiss turns out to be his last, at least for a long time.
It's not that Tadashi is a bad kisser, mind you. He's great. He takes care of Kei in both the most subtle and most obvious ways. He pushes and pulls in the best way, knowing just the right words to say and the right things to do to keep Kei curious and hesitant and certain and grounded.
Tadashi is the perfect soulmate, if such a thing exists.
Therefore, it's Kei's fault.
He's good at ruining good things like that.
It started with a We need to talk, Yamaguchi one night during Christmas break. Tadashi comes over to Kei's house despite the snow, despite knowing what could happen when Kei is done with him.
"What is it?" Tadashi had asked. Kei wanted to punch him then, wanted to shake him hard because Tadashi knows. Somehow, ever since they were kids, he had always known.
Kei ripped off the band-aid in one swift motion, like the words didn't matter to him, like there's a logical explanation for the good things he keeps on ruining for himself. "I can't do this with you, Yamaguchi."
18 years of human experience and it still wouldn't suffice to bear seeing Tadashi's smile.
Strained muscles and empty eyes.
Kei did that.
Kei fucking did that.
"I'm sorry, Tsukki," he said, and it's ridiculous and unfair how sincere he had sounded that night, like he genuinely believed it was his fault that Kei was an asshole, that Kei had issues, that Kei didn't bother with anybody's feelings that night.
It was the first time he saw heartbreak on someone's face.
It was the first time of many.
I'm sorry, Tsukki.
I'm sorry, Tsukki.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
∞
Watching and reading sad stories have become a hobby, one that doesn't necessarily make him happy, but rather less sorry about his life.
He's reading a book on a Friday night. It's a story where soulmates cannot meet because it will end the world otherwise.
Kei sips on a cup of tea, a curse falling off his lips when he burns his tongue.
The tea soaks the corner of the page he's on, smudging the last four words of a paragraph:
I'll fight for us.
∞
Not wanting to leave.
Wanting to run away.
Not wanting to hurt.
Wanting to feel.
Not being brave.
Being lonely.
Not being strong.
Being bad.
Not being good enough.
∞
There's nothing wrong, not really, not where it matters the most.
(The world is tilting more and more on its axis, past 23.5°, past the laws of physics—oh wait, that's just his world.)
∞
"You're leaving?"
Kei glances up from his shoelaces, fingers poised on top of his sneakers. Tadashi looks upset, the corner of his lips pulled down in a slight frown. He looks betrayed.
(Kei has learned how to read the ways heartbreak shows on his soulmates face over the years, and he still can't take it every time even though it's his fault.)
"Where did you hear that?"
Tadashi crosses his arms. "Kuroo-san."
Ah. Shit.
"Were you even going to tell me?" Tadashi asks after a long while, after Kei's remaining teammates left the locker room. Kei feels the sweat tickling the small of his back, hears the pumping of his blood as if he hasn't left the court, as if he's still stuck on analyzing strategies and reading blocks.
He would play volleyball for hours and hours if it meant not having to break Tadashi's heart at this moment.
Kei finishes tying his shoelaces. He stands, buries his hands in his pockets, and forces himself to nod. "Of course." It's not a lie. Of course he'd tell his soulmate. In time. When it's too late to change anything.
"I see." Tadashi isn't lying either. He knows Tadashi does see—the cracks, the leak, the shards piercing Kei's skin.
They go home together, talking about the game and the next opponents. Tadashi asks if it would be okay to kiss, and Kei says yes, because he wants to close the distance between them somehow, wants to feel his soulmate against him so he could believe they still exist.
"I love you," Kei murmurs when there are no other words that could fill the silence between them. "I'm sorry." He means it. He means it for a number of reasons, reasons he hopes Tadashi would never have to know.
His soulmate beams at him, a silken laughter escaping from his lips. Tadashi is beautiful in a way that's made just for Kei. Gentle. Mesmerizing. "It's alright. I love you too."
Tadashi's heart is not broken.
Not enough.
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
On this side of Japan, it always rains.
Kei thinks it's fitting that the sky always overflows the moment he thinks he'll suffocate from the emptiness inside him.
∞
Kei wishes he could pinpoint the reason why he's not okay.
He wishes it isn't so hard to get up on some days, that it doesn't take everything in him to live for another 24 hours, that he didn't stop caring about what happens in his life, that he doesn't want to bleed.
Kei wishes for a lot of things.
Even though he knows none of them will come true in the end.
∞
There is a sense of morbid amusement in knowing that the real problem does not lie in the outside world, but rather in the very confines of the mind.
Kei finds it funny sometimes that most people would want the stability he has in his career and life in general, when he himself is disgusted by the fact that he's still alive.
Why is he still alive?
The thrill of sportsmanship had long left him. The thought of holding a volleyball sends a shudder through him, as if his body craves the mess of the court, yet his mind completely detests it. Nothing feels right anymore, and this is coming from someone who never wholly enjoyed anything before, not in the way Hinata or Bokuto would burn for volleyball.
Nothing.
Kei wonders when he started thinking like this, when he lost interest in plans and goals and improvement, when he started watching the world waste away through dead eyes and an even more grim purse of his mouth.
Kei wishes he could care.
He wishes he could care again, so fucking bad.
∞
"I'm coming."
"No, don't—"
"No, you don't have to."
"Kuroo-san, I'm serious."
"Yes."
"Yes, I know."
"Okay."
∞
He comes home soaked to the bone. His stomach is hurting from hunger, his fingers shaking from the cold.
It's not a good feeling.
Kei has never felt better.
Hunger is good. Cold is good. It's infinitely better than having to deal with thoughts that never make it past his neurons, bits and pieces of unspoken words that are only alive inside his prefrontal cortex, right where nobody has to deal with them. Except for him.
A few notebooks and worksheets are laid on the counter to dry as Kei whips up a quick dinner.
Hours later, when his intestines no longer feel like they're eating themselves and his hair is soft from the hair dryer, he prepares for tomorrow's lesson in his bed, surrounded by a thick blanket and a giant T-Rex stuffed toy.
The cold does not quite go away.
∞
Where does it matter the most?
∞
It's been sunny for three whole days.
Kei feels like dying.
∞
Kuroo sent a fucking chauffeur the next evening along with a white rose and a note that says: just to make sure—also, kenma would be angry if you waste his money.
Tugging on his suit, Kei begrudgingly lets himself be guided into the car, not bothering to complain.
For the whole hour and a half ride, he watches the clouds turn from fluffy white to heavy gray.
It feels like a sign from the heavens.
∞
The engagement party is in full swing when he arrives. He thanks the chauffeur (because he's not a complete dick who takes his irritation out on random people) before entering the restaurant.
Kenma sure outdid himself this time; Kei knows the pro-gamer is the one responsible for the reservations. After all, there's no way that geek Kuroo would be able to book something as fancy and sophisticated as this (not because he lacks in the financial department, for he sure isn't, but rather because he's a giant nerd with no sense of elegance, although Kei might be feeling a bit reproachful and biased at the moment).
He spots several familiar faces in the crowd, all busy talking or eating or drinking. Soft jazz plays in the background, befitting the incandescent lights.
A long line of buffet and a large bar flank the sides of the center floor, which is divided into an area for large round tables with six chairs each and another for a small dais and a space for dancing.
Yeah, this is a bit lavish for anybody that's not Kozume Kenma.
Kuroo looks away from someone who looks like they eat rocks for breakfast and meets Kei's eyes. Slouching, Kei walks to him, the crowd parting for him just like they always do when they see someone with his height.
"Glad you could make it!" Kuroo says, slapping him in the back.
Kei feels his left eye twitch. "You didn't give me much choice." He hands his gift to Kenma. "Don't make Kuroo-san break it. It's expensive."
Curious, Kenma opens the small paper bag and nods, mouth twitching like he's fighting off a grin. "It's a Rolex."
"What? " Wide-eyed, Kuroo wrenches the bag from his fiancé and takes a look for himself. "How did you even find money to buy this?"
"I have my ways." Like spending half of his savings.
"No, seriously, Tsukki." Kuroo holds him by the shoulders, frowning. "This is too much."
"I'm not broke like you," he retorts, gently prying Kuroo's hands off. "Besides, it's the least I could do," he adds almost quietly, glaring at the floor.
The least I could do for being a burden to you, after all these years.
To his surprise, it's Kenma who breaks the awkward pause. "You say thank you when people give you presents, Tetsu." To Kei, he says, "This might be the best gift yet, Tsukki. You have my gratitude."
"Of course," he says with a flourish. He rolls his eyes at Kuroo's indignant pout. "What are you, ten? Kenma-san should've thought twice before he said yes to you."
Kuroo barks out a laugh. Over his shoulder, Kei exchanges a nod with Haiba Lev, who looks as expensive as always. "Bitch, he was the one who proposed."
"Kenma-san should've thought twice before he asked you."
Kenma snickers, elbowing his fiancé. "I know, right."
"Hey." Kuroo shoots Kenma a wounded look for two seconds before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The action pulls Kuroo's sleeve up, exposing the soulmate mark on his wrist.
Kei feels like somebody punched him in the face.
"Can I leave now?" he asks, only partially joking. He refuses to leave without eating, not when he was dragged here against his will, although after what he witnessed, he isn't sure if he has any appetite left.
Kuroo waves his free hand. "Help yourself to anything, Tsukki. Don't leave without having a drink. Kasamatsu-san will take you back, don't worry." Kei assumes this person is the chauffeur. "And thank you for the Rolex."
"Yeah, whatever. Have fun and all that stuff." Kei turns around without waiting for a response, not wanting to give Kuroo a chance to sober up and look at him with pity or something as equally stupid.
He's happy for his friend, really. God knows how many times Kei had to sit through Kuroo just talking about his lovely, enticing, intelligent soulmate for hours.
He's happy, but. . .
His plate is almost overflowing with food, both hands supporting it as he glances around for a free seat. He finds one and starts walking to it, but not without taking in one fact.
Almost everybody is with their soulmates.
(Having insane observational skills is both a blessing and a curse.)
The location of the mark varies from person to person. Kei had never tried to make sense of a pattern for that, had never tried to think about soulmates for years, but he doesn't need a special vision thingamajig to know that unlike most people here, he's alone.
Alone. Like always.
His own mark seems to itch from beneath his sock, a sobering reminder that when it comes to things like fate and love, he may be completely wrong.
(Having insane observational skills means Kei sees him—that one person who is as alone as him.)
Their eyes meet and Kei's world is tilting again.
This time, he isn't sure if he wants it to stop.
Tadashi didn't push him away. He let Kei leave. That's all there is to it. He let Kei leave with that ridiculously wide smile of his, his freckles a smattering of promises neither of them made. After all, what's the use of whispering reverend vows when it's certain they couldn't keep it?
It's not Kei's fault.
It's not his fault that he's not okay.
It's not his fault that everybody let him leave, hoped he would leave, for the sake of his recovery, for the sake of their peace of mind.
It's not his fault that he couldn't accept himself, but still holds enough pride that he couldn't let himself rot away, at least not in a way that people would notice.
It's not his fault that he wanted his soulmate to fix him, not because he's dependent, but because he's stopped caring so much and cared too much about the wrong things.
It's not.
It's not.
It's not.
It is.
Tadashi looks beautiful. If Kei were to explain it, he would say it feels like friction—looking at his soulmate is hot, not in a good way, not when it's been too long, but in a way that grates at his heart like it wants to hurt; the kind of attraction that's both painful and forceful, one that rubs at the rough patchwork of their past and threatens to tip the balance of their present.
Kei is light-headed with one glance, yet his lips remain in a flat line, two feet perfectly planted on the floor. Everything is fine. The jazz music is still playing. The other guests are still talking, oblivious to the two people whose destinies will forever be intertwined.
Tadashi.
It takes Herculean effort, but Kei manages to place his food down on a free table. He blinks and Tadashi is right beside him. He breathes in the familiar scent—mint and something soft. Kei had never placed that last one, had never been able to associate it with anything except Tadashi himself.
"Tsukki."
Not Kei-kun, not Kei-chan. Tsukki. Kei swallows the lump in his throat, thankful once again that he has the superior height between the two of them. "Yamaguchi."
It's sweet. Tadashi's name is always sweet on Kei's tongue.
"Can I sit with you?"
Kei pulls out a chair and settles on it before his knees give out. "Knock yourself out," he says, voice even and casual. He doesn't have to try hard, not when Tadashi could spot his facade from a mile away.
He's fine.
(His soulmate is here now.)
"How have you been?" Tadashi asks after a long silence. Kei picks at his food, occasionally putting a spoonful in his mouth. He takes his time to respond, not wanting to mess this up, not now and not here.
"Fine," he answers, because it's true and it's always the same reply anybody expects to hear.
"I see." Tadashi rubs at the back of his neck, a strained smile on his lips. "It's good to see you, Tsukki. I hoped you'd be here, so it's really nice that—"
"What are you doing?"
Just like that, Tadashi's face falls. Kei wants to close his eyes, but he has always been one to pay for the consequences of his actions, so he watches as hurt flashes across his soulmates's features.
He's a fucking asshole.
"I just wanted to talk."
"I don't want to."
"You never do." It's not accusatory. After all, Tadashi never blamed Kei for anything, and it holds true to this day, 730 days after Kei left him behind.
(No, not left him behind—they both chose this.)
"Have you been here long?" Kei asks, finally submitting himself to the inevitable. He doesn't look at Tadashi when he speaks, adamantly choosing not to see what's right in front of him.
I'm sorry, Tsukki.
"Yeah, I helped direct the guests." Tadashi chuckles, a quiet and shaky sound. Kei clenches his fists under the table. "It's a little weird that I'm invited because I've never been close with Kuroo-san and Kozume-san."
Kei averts his gaze from Tadashi's raised eyebrows. "You never know what's going through Kuroo-san's mind." He scoffs as he reaches for the glass of wine on his right side. "He even sent a chauffeur to fetch me."
"Really?" Grinning, Tadashi steeples his fingers on the table, torso turned toward Kei, legs crossed. Kei wonders when he became so elegant. The Tadashi he remembers is a klutz and a dork. "That does sound like him, though. Can you blame him? You're not exactly known for your obedience."
"Did he have to force me? No, he didn't. He just likes to torment me because he's a jerk."
Tadashi laughs.
Oh.
It's still beautiful.
"You're here now so you better make the best of it." His eyes are glinting jades, a pair of crystals that sees right through Kei's soul. His freckles are more prominent under the soft lights of the restaurant. The combination results in something magical—like dust and gas particles that swirl together to form the ring of a Jovian planet.
Kei feels like a planet right at this moment.
The words are out of his mouth before he could think about them. "You have any ideas on how to sabotage this party?"
Tadashi blinks at him, a mirror of surprise Kei does not dare show on his own face.
No.
No, this isn't how it's supposed to go.
(His soulmate. His soulmate is here, why does—)
"There's a garden at the back, when you go around the perimeter of the restaurant."
It's subtle; a twitch of a pinky finger, a hesitant lip bite, a sidelong glance.
It feels like the beginning and the end of something important.
Tadashi smiles and he could ask for the stars and Kei does not think he could say no to him. "You wanna go?"
(—anything else has to matter?)
∞
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
A long pause.
"Do you?"
Glittering jades under the moonlight.
"No."
"It's better this way."
"No, it isn't." A shift to the right, away. Always away. "But this is what you want and I respect that. You know I always do."
"I know."
Kei leans back against the bench, relishing the warmth of his soulmate by his side, dreading the next day he has to live without it again.
This garden is beautiful. Quiet. Secret.
It's the only place Kei could be honest to Tadashi.
"I wish you don't."
"Huh?"
"I wish you didn't respect me that much." Kei closes his eyes. "I wish you told me to stay."
∞
They have done it again.
Just when Kei is starting to believe that he has completely gotten rid of the momentum and lived in a state of uniform motion, Tadashi comes back and collides against him, like nothing has changed, like he didn't just disrupt the semblance of equilibrium Kei had managed to step his foot on.
And what else can Kei do but to accept it? When they're all mass and velocity that collide and stick together as a single mass after the impact? When they never had the power to defy the Law of Conservation of Momentum?
Perfectly inelastic collision.
Somehow, since they have met each other, all they've done is follow the trajectory of impact, together, always together, even if it meant losing sight of their goals in the long run.
And they didn't care.
There was never a need to.
It makes perfect sense. It always does, with Tadashi. Not because they're soulmates, but because he's Yamaguchi Tadashi, the only person Kei will move a mountain for, regardless what science has to say.
(He's only ever too weak when it comes to pushing him away, after all.)
They spend hours in that garden, with only the dark and the silence accompanying them. There's nothing left to talk about, not tonight.
The party ends at some point, and Tadashi offers to take Kei home.
Kei does not remind him that they live in the opposite sides of Japan.
It's past 2 AM when they arrive.
Kei offers tea and a change of clothes, even offers to stay the night because it's not safe to drive at this hour, Yamaguchi.
Tadashi says yes to all of them.
Somehow, they end up tangled in the sheets, just warmth and quiet and good night.
(They have done it again.)
∞
When Kei wakes up the next day, Tadashi is gone.
The world is 23.5° again.
∞
Kei barely makes it home when the rain starts to pour.
It had been an impulsive decision, but one moment he's putting his things on the floor and the next he's walking out of the door.
In the rain.
On his own volition.
He stands outside the apartment building, basking in the cold until he can't see anything in his glasses, until he can't feel his lips, until he can't think straight with the sound of the heavy raindrops in his ears.
He's shaking by the time he musters the strength to enter his apartment, fingers pruny and blue.
He peels off his clothes and throws himself on the bed, staring at the ceiling until night falls and his hunger passes and his hair dries.
He sleeps.
∞
Sometimes you don't need a reason for being broken.
Sometimes you just are, and maybe that's proof enough that you weren't born whole in the first place, that there's always been something eating at you from the inside and you never notice until it becomes a hole so large it barely fits in with the rest of what's left of you.
Sometimes you're just broken.
Sometimes it's your fault.
∞
"Get a grip, Tsukki!"
Kei is too shocked to register the strength of Yachi's slap.
"You can't keep on hurting Yamaguchi-kun," she continues, face flushed and eyes in literal slits. "Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun never talked to you about it and now they're gone doing their thing, but you're still stuck on the same—"
"This isn't your business," Kei cuts in, rubbing his cheek. He crosses his arms and leans against the side of the university building. "When you said talk in private, I didn't expect to receive physical assault at the same time."
"Don't change the subject!" Yachi's lips tremble like she's about to cry. Shit. "I've been keeping quiet for so long, but this is enough! Either you tell him what you really want from him or just leave him alone! I can't take any more crying from him. Do you know how many times he pretended that—"
"Wait, he's crying?"
A pause.
"I wasn't supposed to say that."
"But you did." It feels a little like being electrocuted—not that Kei would know, but his senses feel like they're on fire, his muscles tense and Tadashi cries over him. . . "Where is he?"
Yachi sticks her chin out. "He has been a great friend to you all this time, so unless you're going to be honest with—hey!"
Kei whirls around and leaves, his soulmate mark burning with guilt and shame.
∞
It was the first time someone slapped Kei. To think he'd get it in his second year in college, and from Yachi, of all people.
It was what gave him the courage to ask Tadashi out, like he didn't reject him two years prior, like he had any right.
Tadashi said yes, of course, and accepted him with open arms and a few tears.
They were happy.
It was enough.
For a time, it was enough for Kei.
Until it wasn't.
∞
It's too quiet on this side of Japan, like this is a place made just for solitude and rain and memories.
Sometimes, when Kei doesn't think he could take the silence any longer, he would close his eyes and remember the way Tadashi had looked like in those two years before they became boyfriends.
Hesitant touches and awkward smiles. Tadashi was still walking home with him, still joking, still taking care of him and loving him in his own way when all Kei did was treat him like a friend.
It's not a good thing to remember.
But Kei does it anyway because he doesn't want to forget.
Tadashi might be here again, might smile at him again, might look like he could still belong with Kei, but it will not change the fact that Kei has always hurt him.
Tadashi might forgive him. (And he will, because he's either an angel or an idiot like that.)
But.
Kei must not forget.
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—
"Nothing's ever the same to you, Tsukki."
Tadashi says this with a smile, that one where only one side of his mouth is curled up, like his face muscles are hesitant to complete the action.
It's the smile Kei hates the most.
"Can you blame me?" he grumbles, propping his elbows against the balcony. It's the middle of spring and the night sky is clear and full of thousands upon thousands of stars. Tadashi is wearing a pair of penguin pajamas that would look absolutely ridiculous on anybody else.
It's a perfect night.
It's supposed to be a perfect night.
Sighing, Tadashi joins him, arm pressed against Kei's as if he's making sure both of them are still there.
"Why would I? You're my best friend before anything else, Kei-chan. Of course I'd understand."
"Then why did you have to word it like that?" Kei tries very hard not to pout. "Also, don't think calling me Kei-chan makes any difference."
"I'm just saying I support you," Tadashi says calmly. "I don't expect anything from you in that department, Kei-chan. You know that I want you to be comfortable with me always."
"I know, but—"
"If you're going to babble about some 'but you need sex, Tadashi' bullshit again, I'm gonna have to ask you to shut up." It's rare that Tadashi blatantly shows his passionate side, but tonight, his sincerity shines the brightest.
Kei is blinded, yet he does not dare look away.
Tadashi continues with his speech, oblivious to Kei's fascination. "You can't tell me about your boundaries and expect me to not give a damn, because that's not how it works, Kei-chan. You have to stop acting like you're the only who can compromise in this relationship." His eyes soften, his eyes crinkling at the corners to accompany the upward tilt of his mouth. "Let me be here for you, too."
(It's the smile that Kei loves the most.)
"Thank you," he says, hoping his soulmate understands the weight in those two words and knowing that they won't ever be enough.
"I'm sorry." Kei doesn't ask what for. He doesn't need to. "I just meant that I've always known that you feel alienated somehow, even with the people you've been with for years."
Even with me, is what he does not say out loud.
"And it's not a mistake for feeling like that. I don't know why you believe you're anything less by being asexual, but I'm telling you that it doesn't matter to me." Tadashi turns to him then, a fiery look in his eyes. Kei burns in its depths. "You're Kei-chan. No matter what, you'll always be my soulmate, and I'll accept you for whoever you want to be."
Kei averts his gaze.
"So do what you want," Tadashi says with a shrug. "As long as it makes you happy, I won't stop you. I will never hold you back, Tsukki." He smiles. "You know where to find me."
Kei wishes Tadashi doesn't look so sad when he says that.
∞
Two weeks later, Kei boarded the train to an unknown side of Japan.
Tadashi did not stop him.
∞
Kei just got out of the shower when his phone rings.
"Tsukishima Kei."
"I know."
Kei almost drops his phone. ". . . Tadashi ?" Clearing his throat, he sits on the bed, clutching at the sheets with his free hand. "Yamaguchi. How did you get my number?"
Tadashi sounds like he's smiling. "Guess who."
A sigh. "Kuroo-san."
"You should reconsider your friends, Tsukki."
Kei snorts. "Rich coming from you."
"What? I'm the friendliest person ever. I have thousands of friends."
"Why did you call?" Why did you leave the other night?
Tadashi hums. "I don't know." The line on his end crackles like he's walking outside. "Can't I just call my favorite person in the world?"
"Yeah, right."
(The Tadashi he remembers is a klutz and a dork.)
"You don't believe me?"
Kei grips the sheets until his knuckles are white. "You're not as funny as you think, Yamaguchi."
"Who said I was trying to make you laugh?"
"What do you want?" he says quietly, almost begging, pleading for something.
He sounds as pathetic as he feels.
"Can't I just call you?" I miss you, is what it sounds like. "Sorry if I bothered you, Tsukki. I thought it would be okay to catch up after so long."
(The Tadashi today is elegant and smooth and confident.)
"I'll hang up then," Tadashi continues, not sounding disappointed, not sounding as if Kei didn't just let him down for the fucking hundredth time. Always kind and sincere and unrealistic. "Sorry again, I—"
"Don't."
"Um, what?"
Kei heaves a steadying breath, loosening his hold on the sheets. "You can always call."
"Really?"
"Yeah." If he were the type to bleed, the bed would be soaked with red, his fingers coated with iron and plasma. But he isn't, and everything is clean. It always is. "Just not right now."
There's a split second where Kei thinks his heart might be on the verge of exploding, then it's gone just as fast.
"Okay," Tadashi says. He neither sounds delighted nor unhappy. Once again, Kei is reminded that time does pass and people change, unlike him. Tadashi changed in a way that could protect himself from rejection and half-hearted commitment.
From Kei.
"I need to go anyway," Tadashi says. "Nice talking to you, Tsukki!"
"Yeah," Kei grumbles long after his soulmate hangs up. Tadashi never hung up first.
(Kei still wants everything Tadashi has to offer.)
∞
Kei does not want to hear Tadashi apologize ever again.
If only he didn't mess up so much all the time, if only he could give all of himself to Tadashi.
It feels like a judgment, his mark. It's the permanent reminder that all he's good at is failing his soulmate.
And God, he can't even do that right.
He doesn't want to fail again.
Just at this one thing, he doesn't want to fail again.
∞
Asexuality.
Kei never thought there's a term, a community, for people like him.
There is, though. There are lots of individuals who belong to the same umbrella as he. He's normal.
He doesn't feel like it.
He was 15 when he realized he was a little different from other boys—he never stared too long at girls or boys no matter how attractive they are. Porn was more for the plot and less for the pleasure, meaning Kei stopped after the first few times due to boredom and mild disgust.
Other boys thought he was weird.
Kei thought he was weird. Dysfunctional. Like God forgot to program that one gene in his body to make him similar to everybody else.
He was 17 when he acknowledged what he is, who he is. He would rather forget the amount of stupid shit he typed in the computer before he accidentally stumbled upon the answer he's looking for.
He's asexual.
It didn't feel like an answer at the time, not when he felt his stomach dropping and his heart clenching painfully.
He's asexual.
Does not feel sexual attraction to other people . . . Three main types . . . Sex-indifferent . . .
It was fear, he thinks. Fear of disappointing his soulmate, the one person he is destined to connect with out of all the billion other people in this world.
Kei will just disappoint, in the end, because he wouldn't be able to give everything a partner needs to provide for their other half.
It was stupid, he realized when he turned 18, because his soulmate ends up being Tadashi, the only one who knows about his asexuality.
Tadashi had smiled then, when Kei told him one night after volleyball practice. Ten and seven years, so young and dumb, but Tadashi had accepted him with a pat on the back and a "Thank you for trusting me, Tsukki" where others would've shrugged and told him to wait for his soulmate before deciding.
It was stupid, he realized two years ago, when he was on the train set for the other side of Japan, because he disappointed Tadashi anyway.
It is his fault, for not accepting himself.
∞
A student shifts on the balls of her feet as Kei inspects her project.
"Did you do this alone?"
She nods, pushing her thick glasses up her nose. Kei pities the high school girl a bit, wonders why she's so scared.
"You were supposed to be in groups. This class could form exactly 10 groups of three."
The girl, Makoto, pales. "Um, Tsukishima-sensei . . ." She hungs her head, shoulders hunched forward. "Nobody wanted to have me in their group," she says quietly.
Oh.
Kei massages his temple, turning to glare at the rest of his class. "I don't want a repeat of this," he says sternly. "I will assign the groupings on the next project." He ignores the groans and muttered complaints as he faces Makoto in her seat again. "You're going to present this in the science fair?"
"Y-yes, sir."
Kei manages a small smile, one that visibly surprises the young student. "That's very good. I'm sure you'll do well."
He walks back to the board, instructing everyone to open their books.
At some point between explaining projectiles and trajectories, Kei glances outside the window.
The sky is clear.
∞
Today, he sees Bokuto's Instagram post of his and Akaashi's selfie with a caption of long distance for now but making it work!
Kei has the urge to break something.
∞
Kei waits for three rings.
(He couldn't make Tadashi wait after all, not even until now.)
"Tsukki?"
"Are you free?"
"No, I'm not forcing you to—"
"Oh."
"You organized the science fair?"
"Of course."
"Yes, I'd love to."
"I'll be there."
∞
Maybe he should stop thinking, just this once.
∞
Sometimes Kei cannot find the words to explain certain things.
Tadashi greets him with the biggest smile, eyes disappearing into tiny crescents, scrunching his cheeks and freckles and—
Sometimes Kei wants to find the words.
"Ready to go?"
Always, he wants to say, but he would be lying because he wasn't ready two years ago, wasn't ready when they were 18, wasn't ready in that secret garden.
"Yeah," he grumbles instead, slinging his small bag over his shoulder. He's grabbing the coat from the rack beside the door and moving to wear it when Tadashi sidles up to get Kei's bag.
"How do you expect to wear that when you have your bag on?" Shaking his head, Tadashi clicks his tongue and puts it on Kei. "Seriously, you're still as absentminded as ever, Tsukki. I told you your critical thinking and observational skills don't apply when you're alone in your head."
Kei listens to him with pursed lips, wondering what would happen if one of them steps a little closer. Tadashi grins as Kei turns around to face him, like he knows what Kei is thinking, like he wants to take a step, too.
Maybe it's not a collision.
Maybe it's just magnetism, and Kei's too attracted to care.
(Ah, there it is—the selfishness.)
"Let's go?" Tadashi asks, somehow looking brighter than he already does.
Kei has always been taller than him, but today, Tadashi's presence fills every corner of his apartment.
Nodding, Kei pockets his hands to stop himself from doing something stupid like reach out. "Come on."
Maybe later, when Tadashi has to go again, his warmth will stay long enough so Kei doesn't have to feel so lonely.
When does it end? Where do you draw the line between feeling and bleeding? When is enough, enough?
The science fair is interesting, especially when Makoto's work ends up winning for the best project.
The science fair is interesting, but Kei finds his gaze staying on only one man more often than not, fingers itching to close that absurd button on Tadashi's shirt. Who even taught him to unbutton three at the same time?
It's not because Kei feels possessive, not at all, but rather because Tadashi's mark is in plain sight, right below his collarbone.
Kei feels branded, if anything.
Tadashi looks up from reading one of the display boards beside each project. "Do you want to eat somewhere after this?"
"Is this your way of saying this thing is boring?"
"Not at all!" Chuckling, Tadashi nods somewhere to his right. Kei doesn't look, gaze locked on the most important product of science. "This is really nice, Kei-cha—Tsukki." He meets Kei's eyes with a small smile. "I'm so glad you invited me."
Rolling his eyes, Kei angles his face away. "Somebody has to see that I'm not doing all that bad here."
"Right." Mirth lights up Tadashi's entire face as he playfully elbows Kei on the side. "Just tell me you missed me, Tsukki, don't be shy."
The sight takes Kei's breath away.
It must have taken too long, because his smile disappears and he takes a step back, away, away. "I'm just kidding, of course, I—"
"Shut up, Yamaguchi," Kei blurts out. He refuses to acknowledge the shock on both of their features, focusing instead on the noise of the gymnasium and the cold breeze from the aftermath of the rain. "I missed you," he grumbles, heat spreading in his cheeks.
Tadashi smiles and he looks like what falling in love all over again feels. "Glad I'm not the only one then."
∞
It is stupid to believe that things will stay the same after that day.
Suddenly, Kei is not alone on the other side of Japan. Suddenly, there's warmth in his apartment, some light in the darkest corners of his mind.
Suddenly, it's not as hard to stop himself from wanting to bleed.
Not because Tadashi visits a few times a month, or that he drags Kei out for a walk when it's not raining, or that he always brings food and convinces Kei to workout with him.
There's acceptance in Kei, after that day
It's not something mind-blowing. After all, he should have realized this sooner. Everybody has accepted him before, in their own way.
He has never thought about it before, but maybe letting him leave was the only thing his friends could do to show that they would never force him to stay if it meant he would be happy.
(He could move to the opposite side of the Earth, but he still wouldn't be happy.)
He's the only one who couldn't live with himself. This is a fact he has known for years. Maybe Tadashi knew it, too, so he never thought twice in giving Kei whatever he needed.
And the problem is Kei always asks and asks and takes and Tadashi just fucking lets him every time, because Tadashi is the kind of person who will trade his comfort for the people he values without hesitation.
It is stupid to believe that things will stay the same after that day, because things have been different for a long time now.
∞
It's a few months later, when Tadashi visits and the sun is bright in the sky and he wants to stay indoors to cook for his soulmate that Kei really feels like it's not too late to start keeping good things for himself.
But as expected, it's Tadashi who makes the first move, because he's always been the type to open doors for Kei and wait however long it takes for Kei to cross the threshold.
"Hey, Tsukki."
"What?"
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"
(Yamaguchi Tadashi is an accumulation of instances.)
Kei averts his gaze. "Like what?"
Silence.
Kei meets the clearest shade of green. "Like what?" he repeats, already knowing the answer, half-nervous that Tadashi does, too.
His soulmate smiles. It's the second most melancholic thing Kei has ever seen. "Like this is okay."
"Why wouldn't this be?" Kei stands, gathering their dishes. "You're my soulmate." I'll try harder this time, is what he wants to say. I'm sorry it took this long.
"I am."
He thinks Tadashi's smile is a tad brighter this time.
(Kei hopes this is one of those instances that does not pass.)
∞
Tadashi shifts on the bed so they're face to face. "Kei-kun."
Kei hums in response, blinking his eyes open. Tadashi's features blur together even when they're only two feet apart, and he wants to reach out for his glasses just so he could see that gentle beauty right in front of him.
"I love you."
Kei thinks this must be what it feels like to be alive. He wants to chase this feeling sometimes, when Tadashi isn't saying those words, when Kei is doing the most mundane things.
"You're an idiot," he says, reaching out to touch the smattering of stars on Tadashi's cheeks. "I'm sorry, Tadashi." He means it. He means it for a number of reasons, and he'll say it over and over again until Tadashi knows.
His soulmate looks at him like there's nobody else in this world he'd rather be with. "Shut up, Kei."
Kei leans in and presses his lips on Tadashi's forehead. "I love you," he murmurs, feeling embarrassed about his vulnerability and wondering how Tadashi has the strength and courage to wear his heart on his sleeve all the time.
Tadashi wraps him in his arms, buries his nose in the juncture between Kei's neck and shoulder. "I knew that."
If Kei were the type to bleed, it'll be all over his skin, glowing in his cheeks, streaming from his eyes, and Kei would love every single moment of it.
∞
There are times when Kei hurts.
It's a fleeting moment, a small crack in ice, a glitch in the system.
It doesn't happen that much, but when it does, Tadashi gives him all the space he needs.
It feels a lot like bleeding.
But Tadashi wipes all the blood away as much as he could, as much as Kei allows him.
∞
Tadashi smiles and he looks like what gravity feels—grounding, steady, constant. "Can I ask a question?"
Kei's heart is pounding, yet his voice remains even. "You already did."
"Another one then."
"Okay." He'll say yes. He'll say yes over and over if it would mean Tadashi smiling and looking at him like that, if it would mean having him for a while longer.
"Will you be my boyfriend again?"
(He lets Tadashi take this time, and after that, and after that, every day.)
∞
Kei whispers a question, four little words that almost come out as a sigh.
Tadashi smiles and answers it with a nod and a blush.
It's still the most beautiful thing Kei has ever seen.