The Man Who Ran Off With The Moon - [ Tsukkiyama Art Thief AU! ]

December

It was a mere blink, and somehow a month had passed. December arrived so suddenly, icy winds blowing and bustling without warning. Tsukishima could not remember exactly when he had stopped keeping track of the months, of the time that had flew by. He may have not even realized it was December if someone had not hung Christmas lights on the railing of the stairs to his apartment.
Things were moving slowly again.
A large and mysterious sum of money had turned up in his bank account. Kenma and Kuroo had also caught some some of the unexpected cash flow. The three had a brief moral debate over whether or not it should be kept, though Tsukishima really, genuinely did not care much. He ended up keeping a comfortable portion, and he moved out of the garage apartment. Kenma and Kuroo were both getting a bit much, with the food at the door, with the mild suggestions that he, like them, should consider seeing someone to help him process what had happened.
Returning to a different building in Sanya made sense to him. His new room was just as small as the old one had been, and he would walk past the site of his old demolished building on his way to work. Tsukishima could afford better now, but this felt appropriate. The window overlooked a parking lot, and he had to climb several flights of stairs to get to his place. It was never quiet at night. Tsukishima quickly fell back into his familiar routine. The same simple breakfast. After some begging, the same stupid zookeeper uniform, though the shorts had been upgraded to pants for the winter months. He didn't see people often, turning down invitations from Kuroo, from Bokuto. Even Kenma had reached out, asking if he wanted to go "maybe get coffee or something, um, I don't know.."

He wasn't lonely. Everyday he told himself that. It was a proud mantra. I'm not lonely.

Tsukishima definitely, totally, was not lonely, but he did find himself thinking the oddest things. There was a morning where he had nearly been late to work because he had spent twenty minutes staring down at the sink. He had gotten used to cleaning up extra globs of toothpaste, but when he looked, and looked, there were none. On a separate morning, he caught himself singing as he made his breakfast, and was instantly disgusted with himself.
Sleeping was also an issue.
The mattress on his bed felt uncomfortable. There was all kinds of space for him to stretch into, too much space. And he was always cold. Blanket after blanket went on, but warmth continuously escaped him. And... he no longer woke up and wondered about Yamaguchi. He knew, in full confidence, that he really was alive and out there. He was no longer the same kind of missing he had been.
On his way to work, each day, distant memories would knock on the doors of his heart. Tsukishima started wearing headphones all the time again, like he had as a boy. This way, he wouldn't have to think, he wouldn't have to feel all those dreadful little things that were constantly hunting him. Even if he wanted to, he had no way of contacting Yamaguchi.
On his days off, he would put music on and walk. And walk. Tsukishima crisscrossed each neighborhood of Tokyo, every corner, aimless. He didn't know what he was looking for, if he even was looking for anything at all. He looked into faces and windows and saw nothing. Wandering became his ultimate hobby. Tsukishima traveled through all of the solemn landscapes he could find. He walked alongside every shore, freezing and faultless.

He simply kept moving forward, blind and empty, into each day.

Tsukishima didn't want to be burdened under emotion. He didn't want to know sadness, or loss. He knew he didn't want these things, but... that left him with nothing?

No, he would remind himself, not nothing!

He had instant coffee.. and like, a couple other items in his pantry. His neighbors were screaming at each other less. He had talked his way out of having to wear a stupid Santa hat with his zookeeper uniform. The train was usually on time. And.. someone had put up Christmas lights on the railing by his apartment.

That was enough. Everyday he told himself that. I'm not lonely! This is enough! 

His charade fell apart about a week before Christmas eve. Holidays have a terrible habit of illuminating the ugly parts one wishes to ignore. Everything is so sterilized in joy, only the most potent sadnesses can creep in. Work had been uniquely exhausting. Tsukishima had been forced to wear stupid contacts after misplacing his glasses in the break room. One had become irritated, so now he only had the full capacity for sight in one eye, and it was giving him a terrible headache. Tsukishima was getting off the train when he saw him through the blur. Green hair, a long winter coat. Even in his state, there was no mistaking it.