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

Nightmare

"You've already done more than enough. My being here is already more trouble than you deserve."
Tsukishima glared at him, a nonverbal warning that he wasn't interested in Yamaguchi's self deprecating statement. He would receive his support no matter what.
Yamaguchi turned a bit red and looked away. The color clashed violently with his paler complexion.
"So they were lookin for the gem, you think? That's why they tore through the house?"
Kuroo looked pensive.
Yamaguchi went to respond, but his voice was broken by a yawn. He simply nodded, another wave of tiredness settling in. He looked drained.
Tsukishima placed a hand down on the table.
"I think that's all the questions.. I have. For now."
It was an obvious lie, but a kind one.
"Let's have dinner, then rest. Ok?"

Tsukishima was never a particularly skilled cook, but he managed to piece together a bit of curry and rice for the three of them. Yamaguchi crushed up some aspirin and mixed it with his water. Tsukishima watched the other man wince as he placed a hand on his still healing injury.
"Is that too much?"
"S'fine. Just slightly over the dosage."
Kuroo placed his banged up head on the table, groaning. He flicked a finger towards the bottle of pain relievers and Yamaguchi wordlessly passed it over. Kuroo sat up, copying Yamaguchi by crushing the aspirin and mixing them into his water.
The two other men clinked their glasses together and knocked back the medicine. Kuroo coughed, sticking his tongue out.
"Fucking disgusting, why did you crush them up? That was awful."
Yamaguchi shrugged, unbothered.
"Makes it work faster."

Night strode in from the east, driving a caravan of shadows that made camp in the garage apartment.
Tsukishima went up the stairs, entering. Yamaguchi followed, folding and unfolding his hands in the idle way of a tired child. There was a pause of awkwardness, then they spoke at once.
"I can-"
"You should-"
Yamaguchi gestured for Tsukishima to go ahead. The blond's face felt inexplicably hot.
"You should take the bed again. I'm sleeping on the couch. It's not up for discussion."
Yamaguchi opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it, nodding. Tsukishima supported him as he laid down, stretching nearly over the white duvet. Yamaguchi looked away.
He spoke so quietly.

"You mean the couch in here, right? Not the main house? It's just nice.. having you close."

Tsukishima was taken aback. He nodded, quickly, over compensating.
"Yes! This couch. I'm sleeping on this couch. The one in here. The other couch is a disgrace!"
Yamaguchi laughed, musical and light.
Tsukishima couldn't see him well in the dark, but he imagined the way the green haired man's nose would crinkle, the way his cheekbones would rise, the strand of hair that would fall out of place if he laughed a bit too hard.
"Goodnight, Yamaguchi. Thank you for talking today."
There was a pause so long, Tsukishima was worried the other had fallen asleep, until, finally:

"Thank you for listening."

Tsukishima awoke to the sound of irregular breathing, a soft whimper of "No, no, no", barely loud enough to be heard.
He sat up from his makeshift bed on the couch, sliding his glasses on, looking over to Yamaguchi's twisted and trembling figure between the sheets on the true mattress.
His fists were balled with cloth and perspiration dotted his brow.

A nightmare.

Tsukishima wasn't surprised, given what he now knew of Yamaguchi's history. He must have experienced so much difficulty, out there, alone. The idea that people had hurt him, had hurt him even prior to his current injuries, made Tsukishima feel sick.
Yamaguchi cried softly against the dream.

The more he was left alone with his thoughts, the more pain he seemed to be in.

Tsukishima got up, uncertain if he should wake
him, though he knew he had to do something. He sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand trembled as he raised it, placing it on the small of Yamaguchi's back. The other man's breathing slowly evened out under his anchoring touch.
He slipped back into subconscious sleep, his body now curled like a dancer.
There was an elegance to his stillness.
Tsukishima watched his chest fall and rise, fall and rise, counting each movement.
When he reached 120, he took his hand off of Yamaguchi so as to return to the couch bed, but he felt fingers loosely wrap around his wrist.

Yamaguchi looked up at him. His eyes were wide, reflected in the moon.
He looked a bit helpless.
"I..."

Tsukishima's stomach flipped. It made him feel stupid and childish and confused. His memories made him confused. Even though Yamaguchi had explained so much of himself hours earlier, he was still confusing.
The fingers on his wrist tightened slightly.
Tsukishima allowed himself, confused as he was, to be guided on to the bed.
He laid down next to Yamaguchi, careful not to brush against the side where the bullet had ripped into him.

It is such an easy thing, to lay next to someone.
But it's infinitely hard, too.

Every small movement disrupted the surface of the mattress, every sigh, every stir. Tsukishima felt impossibly tense. Yamaguchi was beside him, on his back. Tsukishima moved his head slowly to discover the other man had already fallen back into slumber. The moonlight cut through his face, pooling in the sockets of his eyes, a wispy, silvery glow.

Beautiful.

They had shared a bed an infinite amount of times before, sleepovers and school trips, family vacations. This felt different.
Maybe because their proximity to one another was out of need, instead of habit or convenience.

Tsukishima could feel the heat coming off the other man's body. He could smell his soap, clinging to both of them.

He moved his hand, sliding it against Yamaguchi's, intertwining his pointer finger in the space between Yamaguchi's own pointer and middle.

Just... a little bit.

He didn't know why, but it felt right when his friend briefly tightened his hold, bringing their palms closer together.

They felt tethered, untouched by pain, unharmed by memory, sheltered from an uncertain future.

It was just now, just hands, bodies in a warm bed.

Sleeping soundly, together.