For the first time in his life, Kageyama's hand is trembling. He's never had this problem, never found it hard to pull the trigger, never had his hand shake like this. If this were any other job there is a possibility his shot could miss, but this isn't a normal hit and his target is less than three feet away from him.

His hand is still shaking as he swallows, his adam's apple rolling along with the rest of his throat and the gun pressed against it. His jaw clenches but he doesn't wince when pain shoots through it-hurting from one of Tsukishima's punches.

Tsukishima's hands and hold are perfectly still, the gold of his eyes glinting in the dim lighting of their house.

For the first time in his life, Kageyama can't do it, he can't finish the job; his arm drops and his grip on the gun goes slack. Their heartbeats echo in the loud silence.

"Do it," Kageyama whispers. If one of them has to die, it should be him. He's not as bright, not as intelligent, simply not as stunning as the man standing in front of him and if one of them has to finish this job, he wants it to be Kei. Kageyama's breathing is calm as he stares into the eyes he loves so much, the ones he's woken up to every morning and kissed every night for the past six years. Those eyes have seen Kageyama at his worst and at his best and now they've seen his everything; there's nothing left to hide anymore. With that in mind, Kageyama lifts his head, allowing a clear shot. "Do it, Kei."

Tsukishima's lip quivers. "I can't."

Kageyama stares in actual shock when the pressure eases up from his throat and Tsukishima lowers his arm-and his gun. Kageyama is known to never waste an opportunity and he doesn't now. He lunges forward-promptly ignores the wary glare shot at him-and crashes their lips together.

..

Dawn finds Tsukishima in one of Kageyama's shirts- comfortable white cotton that smells like him-standing at the sink, washing what fruit he could salvage. There's a pile of bullets stacked next to him, plucked meticulously from the fruit and bread. Kageyama walks in as he's washing, blinking in that childlike way of his when he's just woken up.

They don't speak and they don't need to. The air around them is calm, not before the storm, but after. It's content, the morning fresh after a shower. Kageyama unnecessarily brushes past Tsukishima and heads for the fridge.

"Did my milk survive?"

"Seriously."

..

The morning sun highlights what's left of their house, wood, glass, plaster, and ceramic littered in shattered pieces everywhere. There are holes and bullets in the walls and empty shells scattered like confetti. Tsukishima and Kageyama are sitting on the spot of floor that managed to survive and they were able to clear. Kageyama drinks his milk from a half shattered glass and Tsukishima has his coffee in a small bowl.

They speak of anything and everything, clearing the cloud of lies between them, laughing at ridiculous missions and sarcastically faking heartbreak when they find out Kageyama was never a boy scout and Tsukishima was never in the peace corps. The atmosphere is serene despite the chaos around them; their conversation fades into comfortable silence. Kageyama turns his head to stare at Tsukishima.

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Your punches hurt, you know." Kageyama said, fingers rubbing his cheek, the beginning of a large bruise beginning to bloom.

"That is kind of the point."

Kageyama side-eyes him. "You should kiss it better."

Tsukishima blinks his shock, before he shakes his head, chuckling softly. He didn't say anything else as he leans over and presses a kiss on Kageyama's cheek. Kageyama's lips twitches, fighting a smile when neither of them pulls back. Tsukishima rolls his eyes but doesn't stop Kageyama when he pulls him closer. They breathe together, peaceful, despite the violence not too long ago. When Tsukishima presses his forehead against his shoulder, Kageyama knows.

They will get through this.