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

A Visitor In The Night

Tsukishima cupped his face in his palm, resting his elbow on the crook of the small couch. He gazed out the window, watching the shifting shadows of trees rendered by the streetlight that shone from beyond the gate that encircled the property.

"HnnnnaaaaaGGGGHHHHHHHHH."

Kuroo was laying on the floor at the blond's feet. Tsukishima looked down wearily, "You know, you have a whole house a couple steps away. There's more floor to lay on in there."

Kuroo sat up only to immediately flop back down, his shirt pulling against his body, riding up at the shoulders. The thin band of his tattoo was briefly visible. Tsukishima turned his chin back to the window.

"It's too empty and sad. I don't want to be in there all alone."

"Kenma's been gone less than a day", Tsukishima muttered.
Kuroo rolled over, his face in the carpet. He made another loud, dramatic sigh before rolling over again so that he laid across Tsukishima's feet. Tsukishima wrinkled his nose with distaste and lifted his feet out from under his friend, tucking them into a childlike cross on the couch.

"C'mon, Glasses! Let's go out to eat or something."

"I have food here. And work in the morning."

Kuroo pouted. Tsukishima kept his eyes out, away. There was something strangely vacant about his stare. "It's 4 am in California right now, so Kenma's probably asleep if he's trying to adjust to the time change. I don't want to call him, because what if I wake him up? He needs his rest, he's got such a big day ahead of him."

"Hm."

"I packed like, four different pairs of pajamas for him because sometimes it's cold in Los Angeles at night, but sometimes it's not and- OH SHIT!"

Kuroo jumped up, pressing his hands to either side of his head. The sudden movement caused Tsukishima to lurch back in surprise, "WHAT?"

"I FORGOT TO PUT HIS SOCKS IN THE SUITCASE. Oh, god, I-"

Kuroo took out his phone, ready to place an international call all the way to his surely sleeping husband. Tsukishima stood up from the couch and took the device out of his hands. "It's just socks. He'll figure it out." Kuroo looked pained, then nodded slowly, calming. He laid back on the floor. Tsukishima dropped his phone on the other man's stomach, eliciting an "Oof." He examined his friend, this creature with sensitivity threaded into the fabric of his being. It was strange, uncomfortable almost. A pleasant smile spread over Kuroo's face.

"Love's a trip, isn't it?"

" I bet it comes so easy for you."

The words slipped out, colder and harsher than the thought had even sounded in his head. Kuroo sat up, blinking at Tsukishima, his expression reserved. Tsukishima swallowed, taking a breath. He didn't like apologizing, but he also didn't like the way his friend was looking at him.
"Kuroo-"

Kuroo stood up, brushing off his clothes. He smiled thinly. "Let me give you some advice."

Tsukishima stood, matching him, about to speak when Kuroo cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Any love, no matter how lasting, requires attention and awareness. Also creativity, in some ways. It's effort and communication. It doesn't come without disagreements. Or sacrifice."

He turned to the door. The floor creaked softly.

"Honesty, too. That one's helpful."

Kuroo waved a casual good night and exited the apartment. Tsukishima watched him walk back towards the main house, pausing to look up at the waning moon. It was partially concealed by thin wisps of cloud, but Tsukishima imagined that Kuroo was considering the fact that it was still the same moon that drifted sleepily above his husband half a world away.

Tsukishima sank onto his bed. God, I'm such an asshole. Why am I such an asshole? I just say shit all the time. He would have to apologize to Kuroo in the morning. It was easy to be rude and passive. It was often a less painful way to be, but that did not apply here.

His toes nearly stretched off the end of the mat, attracting a specific cold that felt intrinsic to his own body. The neighborhood was quiet. There was no air of conversation, no cries of neighbors or screeches of machinery. The momentum of the living had slowed as the day passed into night. Many boughts of quiet feel like expectant pauses, but there was something about the stillness of this early night that felt endless. Like sound would not exist unless Tsukishima stirred his own breath, unless he-

BANG BANG BANG

He jolted up, sitting rigidly. The illusion was shattered. What could Kuroo want now? Tsukishima hadn't even rehearsed a reasonable apology for snapping yet. He got up, trudging to the door, pulling it open.
"Look, Kuroo-"

It felt like terror, for a moment. A fear that ravaged him, pulling at his bones, transfiguring his blood to brittle ice. When the fear had finished, as much as it could within the moment, shock had it's way with him. A tight fist of disbelief tightened around his stomach. It felt like the room stretched and shrunk, tightening to a single point in front of him.

He looked older. 
The eight years had not been kind to him. His face was thinner, he was maybe a bit taller. Long, shoulder length hair hung limply around his face. His eyes though, they were the same. They carried the exact same expression from the first day they met in the haze of early childhood, a look of sharp desperation.

If it wasn't for those eyes, he would be a stranger.

"Yamaguchi?"

The other man opened his mouth to speak, but the sound caught. Before Tsukishima's feelings could burst, Yamaguchi sunk to the floor, just inside the door frame. His hand was pressed just under his right rib cage, concealing a sticky plume of red.
"Oh, god.", Yamaguchi wheezed out. His breath was shaky. He pressed his hand deeper into the wound, curling into a tighter ball, "Fuck."
Tsukishima moved without thought, kneeling beside him. Yamaguchi looked up at him. His freckled nose twitched with pain, but he managed a bit of a regretful smile.

"I'm so sorry, Tsukki."