HEADPHONES ‧ k.tsukishima

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫;

Grey wisps of cigarette smoke swirled through the apartment, mingling with the scent of plum blossom incense. 

Tsukishima sighed and placed his book down on the kitchen counter, forehead creased with worry. He could hear music coming from the balcony; the same source of the cigarette smoke.

i've been moving in backward directions

during astral projections

Yachi would be back from her shift soon and Tsukishima didn't feel like sitting through another screaming contest. He slipped down the corridor and stood by the door next to the balcony, hand hovering uncertainly over the handle. He could hear a soft voice outside, singing quietly.

'I swear on my life I always try, but in my eyes I can fly. Sigh. Better luck next time.'

Tsukishima opened the door softly and sighed. Yamaguchi was sitting on the balcony railing, swinging his legs peacefully with a glowing cigarette in hand. He noticed Tsukki and grinned, kohl-lined eyes creasing at the sides.

'Hey Tsukki. What brings you here?' Yamaguchi joked lightly.

'Yachi's back in 20. Can you put that out?' Tsukishima slid to the ground and hugged his legs.

Yamaguchi rolled his eyes but stubbed out his cigarette in the overflowing ash tray, 'I don't get her problem. It's just a cigarette.'

Tsukishima looked up at him. Yamaguchi was biting his raw nails again, a bad habit he'd picked up a while ago.

'It's her apartment. She doesn't want it smelling like ash all the time.'

Yamaguchi scowled, 'I pay the rent too.' He hopped down from the railing and kicked Tsukishima lightly, 'Bye, I'm performing at 12.'

Tsukishima stayed on the ground, curled up like a small child.

Above him, a smattering of stars lay across the dark night sky, like the freckles on Yamaguchi's skin. Tsukishima sighed and cracked his knuckles anxiously. He'd always worried for Yamaguchi, looking out for him every since they'd been little. But ever since they'd become third years Yamaguchi had thrown himself into every opportunity recklessly and came back battered, hurt and with a glowing cigarette in his hand.

Tsukishima wasn't stupid; he knew Yamaguchi did other things, smoked other things, lied to Yachi about where he was, lied to Tsukki about who he was meeting. It wasn't Tsukki's business, not until there were blades and blood and screaming. That was when Tsukki remembered the past and words that had been said, fights that had been lost, scars that had been etched into skin like the intricate work of an artist.

Sometimes, when Yamaguchi cried in huge heaving sobs, Tsukishima wished he could hold him tight and hurt those who hurt him. But then Tsukishima would have to hit Yamaguchi and he didn't want that.

Tsukishima swung his legs idly from the balcony, staring aimlessly at the city laid before him. He sometimes wondered if he was a bad person, for thinking of Yamaguchi as his second chance. His second chance to keep someone safe, to keep them away from bad things, from the same suffocating sadness that took her soul, her everything. He still valued Yamaguchi as a person, he swore, but this was his chance. This was Tsukki's chance to tinker with a new project, a new person.

 Maybe if he fixed Yamaguchi, it would help him forget about leaving her broken.

The flickering streetlights cast a mellow blue light on his silver promise ring.