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When Tobio arrives at Limbo before the rest of the band, Kiyoomi, owner of the said bar, casts him a knowing look while he hands Tobio his drink. He promptly ignores it, refusing to lay himself bare before a gig and in a place that Kei will see him should Tobio decide to destroy himself there.
Psyche is performing on stage at the moment; Keiji’s singing a song Tobio vaguely remembers him working on before when they were still sleeping around. It’s all a blur, his and Keiji’s past, but it remains in his head.
For the past month, Tobio has been lost inside his own head, wondering when he misstepped and got caught into the trap that is Tsukishima Kei. Because surely, he was careful, just as he was when he was with Keiji, and with all the other nameless people he had slept with before. For years, Tobio has had his heart sealed shut, but Kei, with his golden eyes and golden hair, easily seeped through the cracks that Tobio wasn’t even aware were present. It was so easy for him to slowly peel Tobio’s layers away, Kei’s slender fingers gently pulling and tugging, as if it was his god-given right.
And Tobio let him.
And if given the chance once more, Tobio will continue to allow him.
It’s stupid and utterly laughable—Tobio and the lovesick man he has become; because love, and all the tenderness that comes with it, has always appalled him. Keiji can attest to that. He has seen how Tobio’s eyes turn a disgusting shade of blue, akin to turbulent waters that’s willing to destroy anyone and everyone. It’s funny how Tobio is now at the other end of the stick; the one to receive coldness in once-warm gazes, sweet honey turning into bitter tequila.
Tobio doesn’t blame Kei. But it hurts, still, to be shoved aside and treated like any other stranger. As if their hands have not memorized the curves of each other’s bodies, nails trailing down each line and creating a map of its own. As if their tongues have not marked its seals on each other’s lips, breaths traveling down their throats and creating a series of earthquakes in the pits of their stomachs. As if their eyes have not mixed into one, creating a hurricane of emotions within their chests.
He considers asking Keiji how he did it—moving on. But Tobio dismisses the thought in shame and instead lets the last drops of liquor line his throat harshly.
“Atsu, hey, baby,” Tobio hears Kiyoomi softly call from his side. He doesn’t need to turn to find that Atsumu has latched onto Kiyoomi.
Psyche has just finished performing, which means that Tobio only has thirty minutes left before he hears Kei sing once again.
“‘S this gin an’ tonic?” Kiyoomi only hums in reply. In his periphery, Tobio can see the man slide a hand around Atsumu’s waist and gently rub on the patch of skin that’s visible.
Despite the noise from the band and the intoxicated people in the bar, Tobio hears loud and clear the tenderness in the couple’s movements. Despite the subtleties in their romantic actions, Tobio finds it deafening. And he wonders if he and Kei are capable of blaring adoration hidden in the quietness of their actions. Or if their feelings are mere sirens, cutting through the stillness of town, sending shivers to every person that hears. A sound most unwelcome.
Tobio wonders, if Kei finally says the most powerful words in existence, will Tobio’s eyes hold the calmness of sea waves lapping onto the shore, or will it bear the cruelty of a whirlpool?
He wonders, and he wonders, and he wonders. He comes to the tentative and painful conclusion that wondering will likely be all that he will be allowed to do when it comes to matters concerning Kei.
He breathes out, feeling warmth escape his lips. He closes his eyes and massages his temples, dreading the onslaught of a headache borne from all of the thinking that he has been doing as of late. When a familiar voice, dull and low, emerges from beside Tobio, his eyelids force themselves open and the fingers on his temples freeze. Surely enough, when he raises his head, he sees Kei standing near him.
“Are you going to Rin and Osamu’s party later?”
Tobio’s chest painfully constricts when he sees Kei not spare him a glance, his question directed to the person on Tobio’s other side. He’s treated like thin air, invisible and insignificant. And he supposes, it’s exactly what a man of his crime deserves.
“They’re havin’ a party?” A tinge of betrayal can be heard from Atsumu’s reply. “Those traitors, didn’t even—oh. Oh, I get it now.”
Tobio fixes his attention back to his drink, then ordering for another glass when he notices that the ice has completely diluted the liquor. What a waste.
He remains listening, even when Kei asks Atsumu what exactly it is that he gets. Tobio listens, even when Atsumu responds with a suspicious ‘Nothing.’ and waves Kei off. Tobio still listens, but continuously pretends not to, even when Kei leaves with two drinks in hand and when Atsumu tells Kiyoomi the answer to Kei’s last question. And Tobio listens, even when Atsumu complains about how ‘I already told Sunarin and ‘Samu that my bandmates are off-limits—those bastards.’
Tobio listens, even when the glass in his hand falls and disrupts the steady chaos around them.
He throws a slightly slurred apology towards Kiyoomi. Tobio plants his hands on the table and pushes himself up, unknowing of the tiny piece of glass that awaits underneath.
“Shit,” he whispers. Then, he glances back up to see Kiyoomi and Atsumu’s concerned gazes. “I’ll clean it,” he says.
“It’s fine,” Kiyoomi answers, then calls for someone to do the work for Tobio.
Atsumu leads him to the back room where the rest of the band usually stay, Kiyoomi following suit after he has assured the customers that everything is fine.
“What happened?!” Koutarou’s voice booms inside the room as soon as the three enter. “Are you okay?”
Only Koutarou and Tetsurou are in the room, and Tobio doesn’t know whether he should be thankful or disappointed.
He replies with a weak ‘yes’ to the vocalist’s question and lets himself be lightly pushed to the bathroom by Kiyoomi.
“I’ll handle this, babe.” Kiyoomi gives Atsumu a peck on his lips. “Go prepare for your performance. Don’t worry about it.”
Once the three have exited the room, Kiyoomi places Tobio’s hand under running water.
The silence breaks when Kiyoomi asks, “Are you planning on doing anything about it?”
“Huh?” Tobio’s eyes are watching Kiyoomi’s movements as he carefully cleans Tobio’s wound, too natural and precise for a man who owns a bar.
“I’m talking about you and Kei.” Tobio doesn’t see the scolding look that Kiyoomi gives him. “And about the party he’ll likely be attending later.”
“I don’t care,” he lies, but the weakness in his voice gives him away. “And Atsumu’s lying, anyway. Can’t trust whatever he says.”
Kiyoomi bandages Tobio’s hand and places the first aid kit back in the cabinet. He crosses his inked arms across his chest and raises a pierced brow at Tobio.
“Do you really think denial is the best move right now? When it obviously led you to the disaster that you’re currently in?”
Tobio exhales through his nose then passes by Kiyoomi and says, “No, but it’s the only card I have right now that preserves the little pride I have left.”
Liar.
It’s half past three in the morning when Kei stumbles inside the shared house, a string of whispered curses exiting his lips. Tobio stills from where he sits in the kitchen, his hands seeking warmth from the cup of tea in front of him. He waits for another voice to join Kei’s but it doesn’t come. Instead, he is met with the soft padding of moving feet on the floor, too consistent to belong to a man who just came from a party.
Kei doesn’t acknowledge Tobio’s presence, his form illuminated by a lone light above him. He lets out a distressed sigh when he hears a door close and the water running.
Tobio’s mind wanders back to Kiyoomi’s question. What is Tobio going to do about it? He has been running ever since he realized his feelings for Kei, and even faster following his disaster of a confession. Should he finally stop? Let his feet rest and finally allow his knees to work as he begs for forgiveness and for a sliver of Kei’s attention?
The cup of tea has turned cold enough to be unsatisfying, its warmth gone. Tobio drains what remains of the drink into the sink and turns to head to his bedroom. What he doesn’t expect to see when he spins on his socked heels is Kei walking into the kitchen, clad in only a pair of sweatpants and his face devoid of his glasses.
Tobio’s breath hitches, and he fights and fights to keep himself in control. It’s unfair, truly, how unspeakably beautiful Kei looks despite the cheap lighting from the refrigerator light. And how he still manages to take Tobio’s breath away without exerting effort.
And maybe Atsumu was telling the truth; because if Tobio could be enchanted by Kei’s beauty, then who’s to say that Rintarou and Osamu couldn’t?
When Kei finally straightens from his bent position and starts to walk away, it’s only then that Tobio sees a single scarlet patch on the back of Kei’s neck. Before Tobio could even reel himself back to sanity, his mouth opens to speak.
“Kei,” he calls, abrupt and desperate.
Kei merely stops but doesn’t turn around.
“Did you—Did you sleep with—”
Kei clicks his tongue and turns his head sideways. He says, “I don’t see why it’s any of your business when you’ve made it clear that I’m done being your fucktoy already,” before walking away.
Ah.
Bitterness lines Tobio’s throat as he swallows Kei’s name and watches as his back slowly blends with the shadows.
Tobio grabs a can of vodka from the refrigerator and starts to walk towards the direction of his bedroom, but he makes a detour and goes to the back of the house instead.
Goosebumps cover the entire expanse of his body when he sinks into the freezing couch, tattered from all the memories that it holds. The can of vodka opens with a pop and the vapor from the drink fizzes into the crisp air. He tips the can back to his mouth and relishes in the familiarity of the contradicting sensations the liquid gives him. He breathes out as the feeling settles at the bottom of his chest, and he watches the puff of air before him slowly fade into the night. Tobio repeats this until there’s not a drop of alcohol left.
His chest rises and falls deeply and it’s not long after that he feels the effects of the exhaustion and all the alcohol he has consumed. He makes himself comfortable on the couch despite the uncomfortable cold that the night offered. With nothing and no one to give him warmth, he hugs himself and succumbs to sleep.
When Tobio wakes up inside his own room and tucked underneath his blanket, he doesn’t question it and reasons it with sleepwalking even if he has never sleep-walked before. After washing up, he proceeds to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and sees that Koutarou is already on the task.
“I thought you spent the night at Keiji’s?” Tobio looks at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s well past 10 AM.
Koutarou perks up at the fact that someone is already awake and peers behind him to briefly check whose company he’s with. “Oh! Good morning, Tobio! I just arrived from Keiji’s actually. I was going to stay longer but they had an early meeting so I had to leave.”
Tobio could practically hear the grin in Koutarou’s voice while he explained.
“Bokkun, what are ya cookin’?” Atsumu asks as he enters the room with Kei and Tetsurou who sit beside Atsumu and Tobio. “God, I have the shittiest hangover. Shoulda stayed at Omi’s.”
Koutarou switches the stove off and transfers the food on a plate. “Just eggs and bacon,” he replies as he walks to the table and settles the plate down before sitting.
They eat in relative silence with only the sound of cutlery hitting ceramic, and slow mastication to be heard. Atsumu is the first to break the quiet in the kitchen.
“Tobio, Omi’s asking ‘bout yer wound. He kept fussing last night ‘bout how he forgot ta remind ya to change the dressin’.”
Tobio holds his bandaged hand up and replies, “I changed it last night and earlier, but it’s messy. I’ve never changed wound dressings before.”
“Kei’s experienced with bandaging wounds,” Tetsurou says from behind his cup of black coffee. It’s only after the bottom of his mug makes contact with the wooden table does he notice the faces—all encapsulated in various emotions—of everyone in the room with him. “What?”
“We’re not…” Tobio trails off.
Tetsurou is surprised at first before a knowing expression blooms across his face. “Ah, sorry, my bad,” he says, except he doesn’t sound sorry at all. And it’s probably because he isn’t, not even a little bit. “I mean, I saw Tsukki last night ca— ow!” He jolts in his seat at the same time a dull thud sounds from under the table.
Tobio raises his eyes to see Kei sending Tetsurou a threatening glare but the latter seems to be unaffected; maybe even enjoying the fact that he was able to get Kei worked up easily.
“What—What did ya see? I wanna know!” Atsumu, the ever nosy bastard, asks.
Tobio, curious about the piece of information Tetsurou holds that Kei refuses to let him reveal, waits for Kei’s response as he stares at the glaring red mark just under Kei’s jaw, one that he failed to see last night. And one that he wishes he didn’t see at all.
“Nothing,” Kei replies as the chair he’s sitting on screeches on the floor when he stands. “I’m going for a smoke.”
“Hey, Tsukki, ya goin’ to ‘Samu and Sunarin’s poker night on Wednesday?”
Kei shakes his head. “I’m going to the studio, I’m finishing up some tracks,” He says disinterestedly then walks away.
“What’s got ‘im so pissed so early in the mornin’? I’m the one with the hangover.” Atsumu shakes his head. “And bein’ pissy’s Tobio’s job, not his.”
Tobio glares and kicks Atsumu’s shin at the accusation, but the bassist only rolls his eyes and continues to gobble his food with the grace of a neanderthal.
In the distance, Tobio can hear the clink of a Zippo lighter’s lid being opened and the flick of a flint wheel being struck.
It’s Wednesday. Only Kei has returned from accomplishing his agenda for the day and Tobio doubts the other three will be home anytime soon, so he takes the opportunity to finally talk to Kei.
He rests his back on the wall as he waits for Kei to finish showering. With his head hung low, Tobio fiddles with his thumbs as he ponders over the words he’ll tell Kei. The space between Tobio’s eyebrows creases as he practices over and over in his mind the sentences that he prepared.
He gasps slightly when he hears the lock click and Kei emerges from the bathroom, the scent of his strawberry body wash engulfing Tobio in a familiar embrace. And he almost melts, because of how terribly endearing that tiny detail about Kei is. Despite his apathetic front and usual biting remarks, Kei has a side to him that one wouldn’t expect. His love for strawberries is one of his many intricacies that Tobio has helplessly fallen in love with.
Love is a fearsome thing, Tobio knows that now. Before Kei, Tobio had only thought of it in disgust, appalled that such a thing exists. But now he longs for it, despite the battles he knows he will face, uncertain of its victory. He doesn’t—didn’t do love, but oh, he certainly does now.
Often, since the conversation at the back of Limbo, a tiny voice asks Tobio, ‘Why Kei?’; and before Tobio could even finish his response of ‘I don’t know’, another tiny, but louder voice answers, ‘Why not?’.
Tobio remembers almost drowning in realization, just how deeply he feels for Kei. How strong and deep-cutting it is; that as days pass by with Kei not sparing Tobio even a speck of his attention, Tobio’s throat receives abuse as he sinks further.
“Kei,” he finally says, almost breathless despite only having stood the whole time.
Kei stops walking, and much like he did some other night ago, he doesn’t turn to face Tobio. And it stings, really, but Tobio is desperate, so he plows on.
Once he reaches a considerable distance from Kei, Tobio raises his hand but hesitates. It hangs pathetically in the air as he contemplates, debating if he can be given leave to touch Kei’s hand. But he cowers at the thought of being shoved away, so he settles for the soft material of Kei’s shirt.
“Can we talk? Please?” His voice is small but it overflows with desperation and it fills the space that they’re in.
“We have nothing to talk about,” is Kei’s icy response.
Tobio grips the cloth tighter, creating wrinkles in a perfectly ironed tee. “Just—just this once, and then I won’t bother you anymore.”
“You’ll only be wasting your time. Let go of my shirt, Kageyama.”
‘Kageyama’.
Is that all he is now, then? Oh, how Tobio badly wishes to laugh, or perhaps cry. He’s conflicted.
“I already told you that you’ve made it especially clear that you’re done with me, why come back now?” Kei finally turns around, an unreadable expression swirling in the golds of his eyes. “Is everyone else unavailable? Are you that desperate for a fuck right now that you’re willing to settle for one of your discarded fucktoys? Is that it—”
Tobio’s anger flares. His fist flies to the neckline of Kei’s shirt and grips hard. “Take that back.”
A smirk grows on Kei’s lips, and it should be smug, but there’s pain hidden behind his irises. It’s almost invisible, but with their proximity, Tobio can see every single detail on Kei’s face—details he has since tattooed on the surface of his brain.
“Did I hit a nerve?”
“You know that’s not true! You’re not—fuck! Why do you keep saying you’re a fucktoy, when you know you’re not! Not to me.”
Kei huffs a bitter chuckle. “God, you’re really trying hard to make me fall for your lies—”
Tobio grasps the shirt tighter and pulls Kei closer. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I love you?” He cries, voice booming inside the empty house.
Something boils behind Kei’s eyes. “Because I’ve liked you for the longest time and you never, not once since we’ve met, looked at me that way! I tried so goddamn hard to keep my feelings at bay even after we’ve fucked countless times. I tried, I really did, but fuck—how was I supposed to do that when I had you in my arms almost everyday?” There’s a tight knot on his forehead, and the tears that were only brimming earlier have now flown uncontrollably.
Tobio swears he hears his own heart crack at the sight. His hand loosens its grip on the front of Kei’s shirt.
“I never expected you to return my feelings, but you became sweeter and clingier, so I thought ‘Fuck, maybe you do like me back, maybe this can work.’ But it didn’t last long because you shut me away, you acted as if nothing ever happened between us. Because the moment you realized you were getting closer, you fucking ran away and left me like it was the easiest thing to do.”
Kei raises his head and huffs. He wipes his tears with the back of his hand then brings his eyes to Tobio’s.
“You asked me why it’s hard for me to believe that you love me.” Tobio almost shivers from the coldness of Kei’s stare and voice. “It’s because I never felt like you did.”
It’s then that Tobio abandons all plans of civil communication and instead does what he knows he does best. He pulls Kei down to his height and slots their lips together.
Tobio kisses him with all the frustration that he has pent up inside his body, and he kisses him with all the raw emotions that he has for him. It’s messy and it’s aggressive because they both have each other’s shirts in their fists; as if battling on who can pull the other closer.
They don’t stop, even if they start to get breathless and their lips are numbing from the constant pressing and biting. Neither pull away because they both know that they want this, for the longest time since that disaster of a conversation behind Limbo.
It isn’t long before Kei is pulling Tobio up in his arms and resting his palms under the plushness of Tobio’s ass. They move like it’s second nature to them, like they’re made to do this. And maybe they are, because good god , they fit so perfectly together it’s insane. It’s fucking crazy how long they lasted away from each other’s embrace when their gravitational pulls are deadly strong and they’re the only ones that can survive should they crash into each other.
Their lungs and their lips finally find rest when they pull away to rid themselves of their clothes, thrown recklessly on the floor of Kei’s room.
Soon after, Tobio’s gasps bounce off the walls of the room, because Kei is unforgiving with his kisses on Tobio’s skin, and ever more when his fingers find refuge in the heat of Tobio’s hole.
It’s all fast-paced and Tobio is thrashing around as he tries to keep up, but his body has a mind of its own because pleasure is steadily and quickly pooling at the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t know what to do besides create maps on the bare expanse of Kei’s back and continuously bathe Kei’s lips with his spit and his moans.
Kei is slowly becoming intoxicated with all that is Tobio. From the desperate sounds pulled from his lips and the pleading touches planted on Kei’s skin, Tobio looks completely wrecked already. Kei pulls his fingers out and watches as little earthquakes cover Tobio’s body. He blindly reaches for Kei, and with a trembling voice, he says;
“Please… Kei, please just—I want you.”
Kei surrenders. He lines himself with Tobio’s carnal invitation, and bends down to his ear. He whispers, “Say it. Say that you love me, Tobio. Say it until I believe you. Say it until it’s ingrained in my head, so much that I will never forget it.”
Tobio gasps. “I l—”
Kei doesn’t let him finish the sentence before he inserts himself inside Tobio in a single, cruel thrust. He listens to Tobio’s scream for a few seconds before he attaches their lips together once again and drains all of Tobio’s cries and pleas.
“I love you,” Tobio whispers when he pulls away from Kei, and he continues to say so as Kei moves his hips and welcomes Tobio’s tight embrace around him.
The pace of his thrusts is relentless and brutal, but Kei worships Tobio’s entire being, still. With the palms of his hands, Kei lifts Tobio’s torso and whispers prayers of adoration, before his lips capture every spot on Tobio’s bare chest. Kei performs miracle after miracle on Tobio’s body as he turns every drop of sweat into pools of sweet, rich wine.
It isn’t long until they’re both inebriated and they reach their high. Tobio cries and Kei’s heart clenches because even then, when the blues of his eyes are muted by his tears, he remains beautiful. Absolutely divine. So much so that Kei is certain that gods would fall to their knees if they’re ever given the grace to look upon Tobio.
As they reach heaven, apologies that are long overdue spill from Tobio’s soft and kiss-abused lips, but Kei drinks it all up like he’s lived his entire life in drought. He swallows every syllable that trickles from Tobio’s tongue and lets it line his throat even if it hurts and tastes so much like regret.