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

With A Stranger

Tsukishima grabbed Kuroo's wrist, instinctively examining the watch he always wore. "It's... around 8."
Kuroo yanked his arm back.
They stared at Yamaguchi, who brought himself up to a painful seating position. Yamaguchi's face reddened slightly under their gaze and he turned away, "Right."
The green haired man noticed his things on the floor. He flicked his eyes upwards, a passive acknowledgement that they had went through his stuff, then he returned the cards to his wallet and the gun to the inner lining of his pocket.
Yamaguchi used the couch's arm to support himself to standing.
Tsukishima watched as he grimaced and gritted his teeth. A thin line of sweat poured over his brow from the effort.
"Thank you so much for assisting me, but I'll be off now."
Yamaguchi stepped forward towards the door, but winced sharply with pain, his knee buckling slight. Tsukishima caught him by the shoulders, steadying him.
He fixed Yamaguchi with a withering look that could only barely conceal the genuine anger in him. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? First off- Practically- you can barely walk. Second, more importantly- you show up out of nowhere within an inch of your life, we help you, you sleep on our floor, and now you want to leave immediately-What is your problem-"

He spat his words with the cold precision of a machine gun, only breaking rhythm when Kuroo placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What?", Tsukishima snapped.
Kuroo furrowed his brow.

"Calm down. Imma let you finish. I just wanted to say that I'm going to see myself out for a bit so you two can talk..this..whatever this is..out. If I'm needed, I'm going to take a shower and put some clothes on, then I'm probably gonna cry for awhile. Yeah. Here if you need me."

He flashed them a half hearted peace sign, still covered in Yamaguchi's dried blood, still only in his boxers, and left. The door thudded behind him, his absence reverberating around the room. Tsukishima found himself wishing Kuroo had stayed because now he was alone and undefended with a stranger.
A stranger that had stolen the face of the person he had cared for most for such a long period of his life.

Tsukishima looked at Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi looked at him.

Tsukishima looked away, at his hands, at the floor, anywhere else.

"It's been eight years."

Yamaguchi nodded. He kept his eyes trained on the blond, even though Tsukishima would not meet his.

"I'm sorry, Tsukki."

Tsukishima forced himself to meet his gaze, "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Yamaguchi gripped the edge of the couch and placed an absent hand where his wound was.

"Don't say that, like you always do. Like we're back in highschool and you served into the back of my head or I've just told you off for saying something stupid. It's been eight fucking years."

Yamaguchi looked away. His expression was vacant, distant. Another unfamiliarity in a growing chain of confusion. "Eight years, three months, and twenty one days. Actually."

Tsukishima's eyes widened in surprise, "I know."
His face filled with tears.
Tsukishima Kei did not cry, not ever, not when Ikumi had left him, not when his apartment was torn down, not even when he had broken his arm when he was very small. But his body, as strange and foreign as the sensation was, produced continuous sobs. It was not the hysterical, screaming cry that many use to conceal rage, but a deep and breathless cry. He cried for all of the loneliness Yamaguchi had left behind that he had to carried for so long, and for the safety and reason that had fled his world with his return.
He found himself on the floor, on his knees, overwhelmed and embarrassed.
Yamaguchi was beside him, unsure of what to do, but he was there, and that was enough.. except maybe it was too much.
It had been so long.