Broken and Mended

by IDespiseTragedy

Seven years after separation, the lovers are reunited … except that Yamaguchi has no memory of him. With homophobic parents getting in the way, now it's up to Tsukishima to orchestrate the new love score between them.

A lot of thanks to my beta readers, theparthenon, kleonlumi, damons-hot-as-hell, and momo015.

Cultural Note:

In the official guidebook, Furudate Haruichi states that Tadashi is written with the same kanji for the famous loyal dog Hachiko (忠) = Loyalty; Devotion. Tsukishima is deliberately using this homograph to tease Yamaguchi in this fic.

---

Broken and Mended

Chapter 1

For the umpteenth time that afternoon, Tsukishima Kei adjusts his trench coat in an attempt to look his best. No matter how many times he has reminded himself repeatedly that the person on the other side of the room is his childhood friend, when it comes to Yamaguchi Tadashi, nothing is enough. Nothing will ever be enough.

The ticking hands of the clock on the wall behind the cash register show 14:16. Taking a deep breath doesn't help Tsukishima to calm his nerves. Anxiety spreads throughout his entire veins like wildfire, rendering his twenty-five-year-old self as nervous as a toddler on his first day of kindergarten. This is it. After the chasm of years has torn them apart, he is finally going to be reunited with the one person he yearns for.

Tsukishima gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down against his scarf. The warm brown fabric has served as a constant reminder of Yamaguchi's eye color, a return gift from his ex-boyfriend for the one he gave him while shopping together their seventeenth Christmas—the one that is supposed to remind Yamaguchi of Tsukishima's hazel eyes. If this keepsake scarf does the trick, it may remind Yamaguchi how the memories of him have remained etched in Tsukishima's heart and reignite the old flame of love between them. Then, maybe, selecting wedding rings together will be among their to-do list in a not-too-distant future. Even with these hopes, Tsukishima can't shake the dreaded question rolling around in his mind is: will his ex-boyfriend want to be with him again?

###

Upon Tsukishima's departure to Belgium, a teary-eyed Yamaguchi sent him off with the promises of calls, emails, and chats messages. Their exchanges went smoothly in the first year. In the second year, a drunk Yamaguchi accidentally hit the video call button while he and his college friends were partying. One particular dude—and a good-looking one at that—had his arm slung across Yamaguchi's shoulder while his face was so annoyingly close to Yamaguchi's. With all the people around him, Yamaguchi's world seemed to have been just fine without Tsukishima there.

Deep down, Tsukishima had always known that Yamaguchi would have gained more friends at school if he hadn't been tied up with a salty kid like him.

Tadashi would be better off without me. With that thought brewing, Tsukishima postponed contacting his boyfriend for the next few days.

When he could no longer bear how much he missed his long-distance boyfriend, he broke down and tried to contact Yamaguchi the following week, only to be met with disappointment: his chat messages were unread, his emails remained ignored, and his calls were answered by a mechanical voice declaring that the number he dialed was no longer active.

Swallowing his pride, Tsukishima tried to ask anyone who knew them both why Yamaguchi had cut all ties with him without a word, but the Karasuno volleyball club alumni had moved to different parts of Japan after graduation, while their ex-coach, ex-teachers, and the Neighborhood Association Team members didn't hold any answers. This left Tsukishima confused, with no choice but to convince himself that Yamaguchi had dumped him and moved on.

He wished he could do the same and forget him, but no matter whom he slept with, man or woman, his mind always returned to his first love. None of his exes lasted more than five weeks, and it was plain to see why: his way of life had changed, his surroundings had changed, but his love for Yamaguchi Tadashi remained. Eventually, he made up his mind to visit Japan and patch things up with Yamaguchi while hoping against all odds that the love of his life would agree to be with him once again; only this time he hoped to bring Yamaguchi back to Ostend with him.

Before arriving in Japan, Tsukishima had hired a private detective to investigate Yamaguchi's whereabouts and circumstances. Despite being well-loved by his co-workers and never finding himself short of friends, Yamaguchi still was laid off last month due to company downsizing. Since then, he has been has been on the hunt for a full-time job, juggling interview slots in-between the various part-time jobs he held to make ends meet.

"As far as romance is concerned, of the three women who sometimes visit his apartment, a twenty-four-year-old office worker by name of Miura Rieko appears to have her eyes on him more than the other two. They have never met alone so far," the detective's report concluded.

###

That has brought Tsukishima to where he is now, queuing at Shimada Mart's cash register with a bottle of water snatched from the nearest shelf. To no avail has he attempted to steady himself. One glimpse at the smiling freckled man in the green-striped uniform and he sees a fulfillment he has forgotten could exist. His insides get all mixed up—hot and cold and nauseous and thrilled all at once. But the Yamaguchi Tadashi standing before him isn't a memory: he's here, real and alive, and within Tsukishima's reach. How he yearns, with every molecule of his being, to reach out and grasp his true love!

One by one, the queuing customers leave the register. When Tsukishima's turn finally comes and the cashier greets him with a smile, he gasps on an inhale like he can't remember how to breathe. He loses the ability to bring himself to speak until Yamaguchi finishes saying, "That'd be 110 yen. Would you like to pay in cash or e-money?"

While handing over the cash, Tsukishima feels his knees buckle. Compared to the countless one-night stands who warmed his bed in the past seven years, the merest touch of Yamaguchi's fingertips against his own electrifies him. His skin tingles like he is on fire. His heartbeat flutters in his chest and thrums all the way down in the depths of his stomach.

As the coins clink against the cash register, the rational part of him realizes that he can no longer delay their parting; the next customer is waiting behind him. Instinct, however, rules over reason. He grabs Yamaguchi's forearm and sputters, "Tadashi…"

Yamaguchi gazes at him with a puzzled look, but replies with the mandatory politeness of a shop attendant. "Yes, that's indeed my name. May I ask who you might be, sir?"

It's too much. Tsukishima had mentally prepared himself to accept Yamaguchi's decision, should his ex-boyfriend not want reconciliation between them, but to be denied of his entire existence…

The words sound like a death sentence to Tsukishima's ears, the voice he has longed to hear becoming his funeral bell. The thought of rekindling their shared history extinguishes in his mind. His blood runs cold. Inside him, waves of disappointment crash upon the shore of forlornness, creating an uncontrollable pain that crumples up his chest. The shop has become strangely airless, with the joy of life draining away. His body trembles, quaking with anger and disbelief. The one boy who used to look at him with endless awe in his eyes and a breathless adoration on his lips is forever gone.

"Stop joking around!" Tsukishima yanks Yamaguchi's collar so hard that the freckled man's body sweeps over the bottle until it rolls down the counter to the floor.

The elderly woman behind Tsukishima cowers in fear, and a bespectacled man in his thirties rushes toward them. "It's all right, ma'am. A bit of a misunderstanding that will be smoothed out shortly. My apologies for any inconvenience." Then he turns at Tsukishima. "Tsukishima-kun, it's been a while. You'll have to excuse Tadashi. He has been an amnesiac since an unfortunate traffic accident five years ago."

"Shimada-san, do you know him?" Yamaguchi asks.

Shimada steals a nervous glance at Tsukishima before selecting his words carefully to answer Yamaguchi's question. "This customer's name is Tsukishima Kei. He used to be one of the Karasuno volleyball team's middle blockers who … graduated in the same year as you did."

Even though what Tsukishima has just heard brought the pieces of the past few years to an undeniable truth, it cripples every sense in his body and every thought in his mind. He is no more than a stranger to his beloved Tadashi now—that much is no delusion; it's a reality he has to face. What is he supposed to do?

Amid the shattering of his heart, he ungrasps his tight fingers from the cashier's uniform. He planned all the right words before; but now, his voice keeps turning to ashes in his throat. The silencing of his resolve is all it takes for doubts to reign over his emptied thoughts: Is Yamaguchi better off without him after all, just as their parents said all those years ago?

"Sorry." He swerves and turns his heels toward the exit as fast as his feet can carry him. His teenage self wouldn't have been so fast to apologize, but "sorry" and "thank you" have become the most indispensable vocabulary in day-to-day conversations for adults in the business world. Besides, what's the point of staying when his eyes sting so bad he may even cry?

Trudging down the familiar streets of his hometown with hands inside his pockets, the crestfallen Tsukishima looks at his surroundings. Some of the shops remain the same but painted with different colors from seven years prior. His mother's favorite small boutique is now a three-story building. A hotel stands in place of the old electronic store that his father used to visit. Other new businesses bloom, including the travel agency that replaced the patisserie that sold Tsukishima's favorite strawberry shortcakes. From the corner, a teenage couple emerges: a boy with red headphones, linked by the hand with a girl who fawns over him—somewhat reminiscent of himself and Yamaguchi when they were that age.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi weren't the type of couple who held hands in the open during high school. Now, he thinks bitterly, the slight chance for them to do so in the future has died down. He'll have to live the rest of his days with old pictures and memories.

A maple leaf falls near Tsukishima's left shoe. How often did he and Yamaguchi pass this boulevard on the way to school? A couple of times, he pretended to pick up some fallen leaves from Yamaguchi's hair while actually just seizing the opportunity to touch it. Didn't they use to laugh together, discuss popular culture, and exchange affectionate glances that he now realizes he took for granted? Yamaguchi's smile always went straight to his heart, comforting him with the knowledge that there would always be someone who loved him.

A breeze passes a pang into Tsukishima, swaying the tree leaves in its wake. He is a stranger in his hometown. He can no longer return to the good old days he spent with Yamaguchi. How delusional of him to have had even the faintest glimmer of hope that Yamaguchi would love him back!

What now? Tsukishima prompts himself. He'd rather kiss a tarantula than visit his accursed family doorstep. Monthly transfers to his parents' bank accounts, New Year gifts for his brother via postal mail, and electronic birthday cards are the extent of his filial duties. Like open wounds, painful memories begin to replay in his mind.

###

After years of pining turned out to be mutual and their status as childhood friends upgraded into boyfriends, disaster struck the last day of exams during their final year of high school. The couple was celebrating the end of a long and stressful exam week with a sex marathon when Yamaguchi's mom and little brother came in. Fourteen-year-old Hiroshi, whose hands were heaped full of DVDs, pressed the door handle downward with his elbow and kicked the door open without knocking. His mother, three steps behind, asked what was wrong when she met her younger son's petrified figure. The moment her eyes locked on her elder son's bed, the tray of drinks and snacks slipped from her hands and crashed onto the floor.

The color drained from two teenage boys' faces as they scrambled for a blanket in panic. The "lecture" that followed could have rivaled the length of Tolstoy's War and Peace. As if that weren't enough, once Yamaguchi's mom called Tsukishima's parents, they decided to enroll their son to a university in Belgium, where his uncle lived.

Between the end of exams and high school graduation, Tsukishima and his father went to Tokyo for his passport and student visa applications. He was grounded upon his return to Miyagi, and could only meet Yamaguchi during the graduation ceremony. With his train leaving two hours later and the Tokyo ‒ Berlin flight departing the same evening, they could do no more than sneaking out to the volleyball club changing room for one last kiss.

The trauma of being forcibly separated from the one he treasured most lingered in Tsukishima's heart. His parents had deprived him of his true love, and they could torment him again and again in the future. For this reason, he was determined to stand on his own feet in terms of finance. During his university years, he not only studied hard but also built a network of connections for his future career.

After graduation, he was employed in a custom-made foam factory for a year and a half before he started his own business in cardboard manufacturing. From animal-shaped holiday parcel containers to castle-like cinematic props, Tsukishima's company had catered them all, though the majority of his clients were companies with a demand for logo printing on custom-size cardboard boxes.

###

A passerby, who's talking to her phone while walking past Tsukishima, pulls him from his reverie. "Asahi-san, I can't find that file in the archive. Do you have a backup elsewhere?"

There's nothing unusual about hearing one of the most common surnames in Japan from a stranger's mouth; all the same, Tsukishima can't help but think of his upperclassman. Asahi and Nishinoya became a couple in their early twenties and are now traveling around the globe with their parents' full approval. When it came to his relationship, why couldn't his own parents have been half as tolerant as theirs?

After turning at the corner, Tsukishima spots a sports shop. The sports goggles at the window display remind him of his brother, who gave him the first pair he ever owned.

His brother has been a different kind of letdown from his parents. Akiteru assumed the teenage Kei's affection for his best-friend-turned-boyfriend was caused by the absence of any other friendship in his life. He suggested that their parents send the youngest Tsukishima overseas to make more friends and broaden his insight. Akiteru made their parents promise that if Kei's feelings for Tadashi remained unchanged after growing into adulthood, they would give him their blessing.

Tsukishima balls his fists. Although he's aware that Akiteru has tried his best to be the mediator between himself and their parents, his gratitude for his brother remains not without resentment even with the passing of years.

At least mom and dad stopped worrying about the discontinuation of our family line when my nephew was born, he thinks with a bitter laugh.

Tsukishima carouses further down the street, and nostalgic sentiment fills him at the sight of the coffee shop where he and Yamaguchi used to hang out at. It's nothing fancy, but the waiters recognized them as frequent patrons and knew exactly how soggy Yamaguchi loved his fries and how sweet Tsukishima loved his cake.

The front door's chime jingles as he swings the door open and receives a welcome greeting from an unfamiliar young waitress. Most of the decor from high school is still intact. In fact, the biggest difference he finds is just chair replacement—the old ones must have their fair share of wear and tear.

Since the coffee shop is bustling with customers, Tsukishima is seated at the only remaining table, sandwiched by a group of chatty young women and a couple carrying a baby with an ear-splitting crying. To add to his list of displeasures, the strawberry shortcake he craved isn't on the menu anymore, so he has to make do with a strawberry sundae.

The waitress taking his order is about to leave when Tsukishima recalls the Japanese cafes' habit that (thankfully) Belgian cafes haven't adopted. "Don't draw a heart with the strawberry sauce."

"Understood, sir," the waitress affirms.

Tsukishima plans to check his mail while listening to music from his phone until his order arrives. Just before he retrieves his Bluetooth earphone from its case, though, the mention of a name from a neighboring table makes him halt with bated breath and perked-up ears.

"Why are you after Yamaguchi-kun anyway? There are plenty of other men with steadier income. He's a part-timer, right?" the girl with fuchsia lipstick asks.

A plain-looking girl with bobbed hair replies, "Well, he's kind, attentive, and … once he's committed to something, he's really devoted to it."

The girl in a peach blouse says, "But he isn't much of a looker. Wouldn't someone like that…" her voice trails off, but she jerks her head toward Tsukishima's direction before continuing "…be better?"

Tsukishima keeps his eyes on his phone screen as the other girls glance at him then go back to giggling.

The bob-haired girl states, "I'm no beauty pageant candidate myself, you know. I'd rather have a dime-a-dozen guy who truly cares about me than some glamorous, gorgeous guy targeted by countless girls."

"You're counting yourself short when you have all those curves that would make those countless girls green with envy. Especially in this type of dress." Her friend points to a magazine page.

For a while, the girls continue to talk about fashion and Tsukishima decides to quit eavesdropping. Hoping with all his might that the guy in the conversation isn't the Yamaguchi he knows, Tsukishima finishes his strawberry sundae, pays his bill, and leaves.

But what if that girl really is interested in Tadashi?

Theorizing that Yamaguchi could lead a happier life without him isn't the same as letting him do it. No matter how many promises Tsukishima makes about moving on, he knows thoughts of Yamaguchi will keep haunting him for the rest of his tomorrows. If only emotions were as organized as traffic lights so that he could go, slow down, or stop!

Enough moping! Tsukishima berates himself inwardly. No more bullshit, including claiming you'll be alright on your own as long as Tadashi's happy. So what if the world turns against you again, like it has been doing the past seven years? You shouldn't assume what's best for Tadashi; you should ask him.

We can start over, even without the past, Tsukishima decides. If Tadashi gets to know me again and can love me the same, even sans his missing memories, then I'd fight to have him call me his 'home' forever. But if—and only if—he won't or can't love me back, only then will I stop pursuing him.

---

Chapter 2

Hours after the stranger has left, Yamaguchi is still unable to shake off the memory of the afternoon's encounter with Tsukishima from his mind.

The tall man was comparable to an aristocrat, who had prodigiously stepped out of a pre-Raphaelite canvas and slipped into twenty-first-century autumn clothes. The alert gleam behind his spectacles only added intellect to his bearing while the determinedly clenched jaw spoke of endurance and vigor. Most of all, while standing before Tsukishima's presence, Yamaguchi felt as if his soul had been bared into the state of primal truth.

Sure, friends and relatives had shown concern for Yamaguchi's loss of memory—though a guy from college had tried to scam him with an imaginary debt once—but none of those people showed such a dramatic degree of disheartenment. The betrayal in Tsukishima's voice expressed a sincerity that went beyond lip service. What was more, Yamaguchi had caught a glimpse of Tsukishima's hazel eyes glistening with withheld tears before the tall man had stormed off toward the exit.

Yamaguchi wills any memory pertaining to his younger years with Tsukishima to emerge. It's no use; thanks to his Traumatic Brain Injury, every time he endeavors to remember the past, the only thing that comes up is head-splitting pain. Any part of his life up to the accident five years ago is like a blank slate in his mind. He had no better option than to put a blind faith in what the medics told him after he woke up in the hospital bed with thick bandages around his head, a cast around his left forearm and leg, three broken ribs, plus several cuts and bruises. The only stories about the past he knows are solely woven from the words of the people who surrounded his sickbed and claimed to be his family.

"Shimada-san, do you know where Tsukishima-san lives?" Yamaguchi asks when they close the shop.

Without looking at him, his boss stacks the scattered shopping baskets into a pile and answers in a strained voice, "No, I only heard he studied abroad right after his high school graduation."

"But he's back now. I'm gonna ask around if anyone knows where Tsukishima family residence is." Yamaguchi returns a chocolate bar strayed among the ketchup bottles to its designated shelf.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Shimada's voice is quiet, but his tone is firm. What's more, he actually turns to face Yamaguchi this time. His furrowed brows confirm Yamaguchi's suspicion that he and Tsukishima must have a history.

Before Yamaguchi can delve into details, the four-year-old Wataru dashes toward Shimada carrying a piece of paper, a crayon tucked behind his ear and a smile brightening his chubby face. "Papa, look!"

"Is that mama? And is this me?" The traces of worry in Shimada's face transform into a heart-warming smile as he points at the doodle. Wataru's eyes twinkle, and Shimada pats his son on the head. "Good boy."

Yamaguchi excuses himself for the day.

The moment his eyes catch the pale-yellow glow from the streetlamps contrasting against the dark sky, a visualization of Tsukishima reappears in Yamaguchi's mind. That guy had called him by his given name sans any honorific. How close were they? And there's also the uneasiness which Shimada never displayed whenever Yamaguchi prodded him for info about his other friends.

He's thinking of picking up some croquettes from the bakery around the corner to eat with the cabbage Shimada gave him when a feminine voice calls him from behind. "Good evening, Tadashi-kun."

Yamaguchi turns around and smiles. "Rieko-san, good evening." Then he notices packs of potato starch and cold tofu on top of the grocery in her shopping bag. "You're cooking agedashi tofufor dinner?"

"Uh-huh and … um, I hope you'll enjoy it." She twirls the part of her hair that falls near her shoulder with her free hand.

Yamaguchi smiles again. The deep-fried battered tofu will indeed go well as a side dish for his cabbage. "Thanks for always cooking for me. You don't have to, you know."

Instead of smiling back, she heaves a sigh. "You're always so formal with me. It's like you want to keep a barrier between us."

"Uh, I … just thought that it made sense to express appreciation and gratitude after all you've done."

A furrow emerges between her eyebrows just as her grip tightens around the plastic bag handle. "You don't ask me out on dates because you're still looking for a steady income—I get it. But even when we're together … you never even hold my hand. Are you honestly into me at all?"

Yamaguchi blinks, and then hastily pleads, "It's not like that. I…"

He means to apologize to her. And yet, the words seem to be stuck in his throat. Deep down, he realizes no matter what he says, it won't be his true feelings. Their usual conversations are amiable and her cooking is not unwelcomed due to his monetary struggles, but it's almost as though she's just conveniently there. It's not that he doesn't like her, but he doesn't feel an immense attraction to her either.

"Prove it," she hisses against his silence.

Yamaguchi gulps. He feels something is incredibly wrong the moment he opens his mouth to say yes, but offering her his hand is the only thing he can do for now. As they head to his apartment, his mind wanders to how their relationship began.

###

Eight months ago, Yamaguchi was cleaning his apartment with lots of sighs from another failed job interview when someone knocked at his door. It turned out to be three of his female co-workers from the job he'd been let go from. Considering the lower salary rates of female employers in Japan, it was no mystery why junior male staffers were among the first to get laid off.

The girls claimed that they wanted to cook for him as gratitude for his frequent help at the office. When he and those same girls had been new recruits, they made classic beginner's mistakes—jamming the photocopier, putting documents at the wrong desks, and whatnot—and he'd simply helped them.

Joy rushed through Yamaguchi's veins. These girls still considered him a friend even though they were no longer colleagues. Besides, they were likely choosing to cook out of consideration for him: it'd hurt a man's pride if a woman paid for the meal if they eat out, plus Yamaguchi's financial condition was in no shape to treat others.

But then, the next week, one of the three turned up at his door and offered to cook for him again.

"Surely you've given me plenty already … more than I deserve?" he asked with a quirked brow.

Miura Rieko fidgeted.

"Everything you cooked tasted great, but I shouldn't keep bothering you."

Her reply sounded more enthusiastic than what Yamaguchi expected. "Oh, but it's no bother at all, really. I enjoy having dinner with you."

Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his neck; a dinner between a man and a woman in a private room could end up not at the table, but in bed. "The other two aren't coming with you tonight?"

"Ah, no. Miki-chan has a dentist appointment and Yuka-chan's working overtime because of a deadline."

"Then, shall we eat together another day, when all three of you are available?"

Miura's shoulders drooped. "You aren't okay with just me?"

Yamaguchi swallowed. "That's not what I mean. I just … well, wouldn't it be awkward for people who aren't close friends to be cooped up together?"

"Then why don't we start getting to know each other better?"

There's no reason to reject her. "I'm not averse to that idea."

Miura kept coming to Yamaguchi's apartment every weekend afterward. Sometimes they shopped together, and eventually people started to assume they were dating. Since she didn't deny when a greengrocer once asked for confirmation, Yamaguchi didn't deny it when other vendors asked him about it either.

###

"You're quiet … quieter than usual." Miura wipes some leftover sauce from the corner of Yamaguchi's mouth after dinner. As much as he appreciates her kindness, he wishes she didn't do that. Is he some five-year-old who can't survive without his mother taking care of him?

After a sharp intake of breath, he tells her, "I'm not sure if we're doing this right. Something like this should base on love, not … uh, the need for guarantees."

"It would indeed be preferable if I had the luxury to choose. I've waited and waited. Now I'm done waiting." Miura peers at Yamaguchi, her eyes challenging him. "Chances won't come unless we create them with our own hands."

The depths of someone's feelings aren't something you can tell by measuring them with a scale or adding various things in test tubes, he wants to tell her. Sleeping around isn't the way to confirm love. With those words swirling in his head, Yamaguchi gathers the plates from the low table—the only table in his tiny apartment—and carries them to the sink.

"I'll take a shower." Miura heads to the bathroom without waiting for Yamaguchi's response.

As the soapy sponge glides from one plate to another, Yamaguchi recalls the romances he has had thus far. He has no memory left from anything before his second year of university, but since then he has dated a handful of girls.

###

Most of his ex-girlfriends left him for men with higher specs—looks, money, intelligence, character … they all expected something from him. The only one who didn't was Kobayashi Chinatsu. She loved him for the person he was, or so he thought. In their seventh month of dating, she became prone to throwing up and finally came a day when she told him that she was three months pregnant with another man's child.

That betrayal hurt him for months.

During a summer festival, he met Ogawa Tomoka. Her friendliness won his heart fast, and by the end of the festival, they were holding hands while watching the fireworks. Unfortunately, the same speed with which they began their relationship applied to its entirety. The moment Ogawa deleted all the female contacts from Yamaguchi's phone without permission, their break up was sealed. In her blind jealousy, she'd stubbornly refused to listen to his explanation that he was trying to build a network of business associates as was befitting for an intern like him. When he pointed out that she hadn't respected his privacy, she lashed out and threw everything within sight at him. By the time she stormed out of his apartment for good, both of them were covered with bruises and cuts.

Yamaguchi had lost the appetite for romance from then on. Girlfriends had never been a necessity for him to begin with, and an unattached life turned out to be more hassle-free both financially and physiologically. He'd go to goukon to help his friends meet the required number, but he never attempted to woo any of the girls.

###

The bathroom door creaks open to reveal Miura's lithe body, water dripping from her exposed skin, save for the section covered by a white towel. Her body is neither the worst nor the best he has ever seen. The unspoken desire in her eyes tells him to tug that towel and unwrap her as his present. A part of Yamaguchi wants to do just that. Why shouldn't he accept what has been offered to him?

No, a voice insists in his head. She wants a proper boyfriend, not a sex friend. Are you prepared to build a family with her and be by her side for the rest of your life?

Clenching his fists, Yamaguchi gets to his feet. He notices her blush when he extends his arms toward her towel. However, he places his hands on her shoulders and says, "You've been a wonderful friend and I hate to lose you like this, but I know I'll hate it even more if I sleep with you, knowing I could never love you properly." She opens her mouth to protest, but he interrupts her. "You deserve a better man … someone who loves you back."

She opens her mouth to protest, but he interrupts her, "You deserve a better man … someone who loves you back."

For a split second, she seems like she is going to burst with anger, but then the energy drains from her. With glassy eyes and a small voice, not unlike a child bedridden with fever, she asks, "That's your final answer?"

As soon as Yamaguchi nods, Rieko picks up her bag and turns around toward the bathroom once more. The "sayonara" she spouts after coming out fully dressed becomes the last thing ever spoken between them.

Right after the door shuts behind her, though, Yamaguchi feels guilty for letting her walk out unescorted. The part of the town where the low-priced apartments he lives in are clustered doesn't come with a "safe environment" label on it. Putting some distance between them, he follows her surreptitiously, just to make sure she reaches the train station without bumping into troublemakers. He heads home the moment he sees her tapping her railcard onto the ticket scanner.

---

Chapter 3

Having memorized Yamaguchi's schedule thanks to the detective's report, Tsukishima has planned to coincide a meeting when his ex-boyfriend comes home from a part-time job. His plan, however, collapses the moment Tsukishima sees his beloved Tadashi go inside an apartment hand-in-hand with a woman.

Tsukishima recalls the name Miura Rieko from the detective's report. "… they have never met alone" my ass! Thorns of anguish and despair wind themselves tighter around his heart. Give Tadashi back to me!

Although a part of Tsukishima wishes to claw at the couple and tear them apart, his feet remain rooted to the ground. Hasn't he made up his mind to approach Yamaguchi fair and square? Isn't this enough proof that his high school sweetheart isn't necessarily gay? Yamaguchi had to put up with him only because he felt that Tsukishima had saved him from some elementary school bullies. With that memory wiped out of Yamaguchi's mind, there is nothing to anchor them.

Despite Miura's decent appearance, her devotion to Yamaguchi appears sincere enough. If she makes Tadashi happy, what right do I have to deprive the joy of future parenthood from him?

As if on cue, the distant church bell rings. Probably a wedding. How many more times must Tsukishima pretend it is him and his beloved Tadashi who are the grooms each time he is invited to a business associate's wedding?

Tsukishima turns his heels toward the nearest liquor store. He wolfs down the first can of beer as soon as he pays. The next can he empties on the way to a nearby park, where a pair of lovers is making out on a bench. The girl is telling her boyfriend, "Don't leave any hickeys. It isn't summer; I can't pretend it's a bug bite if my colleagues see it."

A memory from their second year of high school invades Tsukishima's mind.

###

Yamaguchi fidget at the sight of the bug bite on Tsukishima's neck. When Tsukishima looked at him questioningly, he immediately turned away. But he'd kept stealing glances at that particular spot on Tsukishima's skin several more times that day. Finally, on their way home after volleyball practice, Tsukishima grew impatient and demanded to know what was wrong.

With a hesitant voice and a blush upon his cheeks, Yamaguchi admitted, "I wish I could leave a mark on your skin too."

"Not a chance in hell," Tsukishima answered while thinking, Even if you never mark me, I'd still be yours.

"Sorry, Tsukki," Yamaguchi replied with all the dejectedness of a kicked puppy.

Tsukishima dragged him into the nearest public toilet, pushed Yamaguchi into a cubicle, and closed the lid of the water closet without preamble. He commanded Yamaguchi, "Sit."

"Tsukki? What are you doing?" a flustered Yamaguchi asked even as he complied.

Instead of giving his boyfriend a verbal reply, Tsukishima got down on his knees, lifted Yamaguchi's leg, raised the portion of trousers covering Yamaguchi's ankle, and lowered Yamaguchi's sock. He clamped his lips on a strip of Yamaguchi's flesh right above his ankle. He sucked hard, making sure to leave a mark.

Only after Tsukishima had accomplished his goal did he answer, "No one's gonna see this kiss mark down here."

"Oh."

Just like that, a smile lit Yamaguchi's face and he hummed all the way home.

###

Despite Tsukishima's scowl, the lovers on the bench are too preoccupied with each other to notice, let alone care. He opts for the farthest bench away from them, separated by a wall of shrubs. It doesn't take long to finish the third beer. By the time he drains the fourth one, he has developed a severe case of hiccups, but at least the alcohol—albeit temporarily—dulls the pain.

With a mind for the taxi stand on the other side of the river, Tsukishima totters down the bridge as soon as he tosses the last of his cans in the trash. The wind stirs his scarf and billows his coat, but he's all warm from the alcohol. He recalls seeing Hinata and Kageyama on TV when they represented Japan in the Summer Olympics. Unlike them, he no longer has a clear purpose in life. He has his company, condo, and sports car, but no one to share them with. Loneliness devours him whole as a thought swirls in his mind: Tadashi will be happy with that woman.

Tsukishima stares at the scarf dangling from his neck. Then the wind snatches it from him and drops it in the river below.

With this last memento from the love of his life gone, how can Tsukishima live on? He doesn't think twice as he climbs over the railing to jump.

The loud splash fills his ears and his body feels as if it has been pierced by a thousand ice shards. The scarf isn't getting any closer, but his limbs refuse to cooperate. The cold consumes him. He hears another huge splash somewhere behind, but it could just be his mind playing tricks on him. After all, who else would jump into a river in the middle of an autumn night—or so he thinks until a pair of hands grasp and lift him. Tsukishima turns around and his eyes find the freckled face of Yamaguchi Tadashi.

Yamaguchi addresses him with furrowed brows. "Tsukishima-san? Tsukishima Kei-san?"

Tsukishima never knew that the sound of his own name could hurt him so much. Even in his semi-drunken state, he remembers with piercing accuracy the unadulterated adoration within Yamaguchi's syllables each time he pronounced, "Tsukki." Not even the slightest vestige of those feelings emerges tonight.

"Are you alright? Have you sustained any injuries?" Yamaguchi asks, the formality in his words odd to Tsukishima, as he helps him back on his feet.

How Tsukishima wishes he could be immune to disappointment! With every word Yamaguchi speaks—as though addressing a stranger—his heart bleeds deeper. To divert his mind from the pain, Tsukishima tries leap forward once more in an attempt to chase his washed away scarf.

Yamaguchi clutches Tsukishima's waist. "Don't! It's dangerous. The current's too strong."

"Let me go!" Tsukishima struggles to get free, but it's no use; the half dozen cans of beer have sapped his strength.

"Wait, have you been drinking?" Yamaguchi tightens his grip as soon as he smells alcohol from Tsukishima's breath.

"Let me go, dammit!" Tsukishima roars. "The scarf…" Your memento!

Even as Tsukishima speaks, the current carries his scarf farther and farther away from him. All too soon, the piece of garment turns into a tiny dot, which then vanishes from sight.

Forever irretrievable.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't just stay back and watch you drown."

"Mind your own business!" The words come out harsher than Tsukishima intends. With neither you nor your keepsake by my side, why would it matter if I live or die?

"Was it a gift from someone dear?" Yamaguchi inquires through chattering teeth as they wade toward the shore.

Tsukishima turns his head sharply, but as soon as his eyes meet with Yamaguchi's, he looks away.

"My apologies; I didn't realize that scarf carried such importance to you. I happen to have a similar scarf in a different color, which would bring out the color of your eyes even more. It can't replace the sentimental values of your scarf, but would you have it? My place is nearby," Yamaguchi offers as they climb the embankment.

Clinging desperately to the memory that no longer exist in your ex's mind? How pathetic! a voice scoffs in Tsukishima's head as he watches his rescuer bending to retrieve a smartphone from the grass—Yamaguchi must have thrown it before jumping into the river. As for Tsukishima himself, he was lucky enough that he left his phone charging in his hotel room because its battery went dead earlier; otherwise, he'd have to deal with a drenched phone.

Not wanting Yamaguchi to notice his own chattering teeth, Tsukishima keeps his voice quiet, "No, keep yours." If you let go of that scarf, too, what will be left as a memento of our time together?

"Then what about another scarf?" Yamaguchi offers. "None of mine come from high-end stores, but at least a scarf will keep you warm."

Tsukishima tries to dissuade Yamaguchi; the more time they spend together, the harder it will be for him to let go. "Why are you so determined to get me to follow you home?"

"You're soaking wet and it's cold tonight," Yamaguchi replies matter-of-factly. "What if you catch pneumonia?"

Despite the chill he's getting from the water drenching his body, Tsukishima retorts, "You think nothing of a stranger entering your place?"

"Well, I don't have any valuables worth stealing," Yamaguchi answers, his shoulders creeping up defensively.

"What about your body?"

Yamaguchi brushes it off. "What are you talking about? It's not like anyone will kidnap or rape someone like me when there are easier targets out there."

"Suppose I'm a human trafficker who'll knock you out to steal your organs or transport you overseas? Or perhaps a drug dealer who'll wreck your life?"

"You certainly don't look like one. No criminal would expose himself like you just did, for a start." A smarmy little smirk—one that Yamaguchi has never shown Tsukishima before—turns his lips lopsided. "Besides, you're no stranger. Didn't Shimada-san mention that we used to be teammates?"

Yamaguchi's banter gives Tsukishima a pause. In the past, the scrawny freckled boy would rather have submitted to Tsukishima's decisions than voice his own opinion. This change of attitude thrills Tsukishima.

"So, you're judging a book by its cover at this age, huh? You were always the type to pick up abandoned puppies and injured birds when we were small." A grin curves Tsukishima's lips upward.

"What else did I use to do back then?"

Tsukishima blinks.

"I'd love to hear more about my past and yours. Is it alright if we talk over coffee?"

Elation soars inside Tsukishima, making him light-headed. With the most apathetic tone he can muster, he says, "'s fine. Not like I have anything else to do anyway. But quit treating me like I'm still a Shimada Mart customer; you're creeping me out."

"Terrific!" Yamaguchi says, dropping the formal sonkeigowordage.

Under the dark blanket of quiet stars, they stroll together. There's something comforting in the way his used-to-be best friend walks, and with every step they take, the mad desire to hold Yamaguchi's hand burns more fervently within Tsukishima. He puts his own hands in his pockets instead.

"So, you're on vacation or something?" Yamaguchi asks in an attempt to make small talk.

"Something like that. Why?"

"You say you have nothing to do at the moment and you aren't dressed like someone returning home from the office."

"Playing detective now? Or is it what you actually like to do in life?"

"Hahaha…" he laughs, shaking his head. "No, I don't have enough talent in that department. Wait, are you a detective?" He nudges him. "You're even wearing a trench coat."

"Since when has a trench coat become a private investigator's staple requirement?" Tsukishima banters while trying his best to conceal how much he's missed seeing the smile crinkles at the corners of Yamaguchi's eyes.

They walk and talk until they reach the front door of Yamaguchi's apartment. As expected from a jobseeker living on a budget, the place itself isn't much. The entire premise takes up less space than the pantry in Tsukishima's Ostend condominium. Lined with tatami, the one-room apartment is sparsely filled with mismatched cheap pieces of furniture. Even the number of cooking utensils is countable by fingers. The wall paint is peeling here and there. One thing that strikes Tsukishima as particularly odd is the laid-out futon. Someone as tidy as Yamaguchi is more likely to store the rolled-up futon in the closet when not in use.

Then it hits him: of course, he has a girlfriend.

Tsukishima bites his lower lip. The thought of Miura moaning beneath Yamaguchi's body torments him. But then, with Yamaguchi's personality, it makes more sense if the woman is the assertive type. Maybe she rides him and controls the pace of their fucking instead.

Stop it! Tsukishima shakes his head to clear off the unwanted visuals.

"Tsukishima-san, put your wet clothes here and take your pick from mine." Yamaguchi places a laundry basket next to Tsukishima's right foot and scurries to open his wardrobe.

Tsukishima steals a glance at Yamaguchi's exposed skin as his host peels the wet shirt from his body. No visible love bite is present, and the room doesn't smell like sex, but that doesn't guarantee he didn't screw his girlfriend earlier. Tsukishima recalls the horror movie he watched during the flight to the Haneda Airport. There was a scene in which the antagonist yanked the victim's long hair, bringing her to her knees with her neck lying powerlessly before a cutting platform, a gigantic motorized rotating blade threatening to chop her head off. Wouldn't it be nice if that bitch Miura were to face the same situation?

Tsukishima clenches his fists and takes a deep breath; it'd be unfair of him to expect Yamaguchi to stay celibate when he himself has slept with several partners in the past five years.

His eyes drift to the scar on Yamaguchi's lower back—a remnant of the accident that has robbed Yamaguchi of his memory. This part of Yamaguchi feels foreign to Tsukishima. All the same, it wordlessly reminds him that he wasn't there for Yamaguchi when his then-boyfriend suffered from the accident and its aftermath. Then Tsukishima's view of both scar and back are blocked by the fresh sweatshirt Yamaguchi puts on.

"Make yourself at home," Yamaguchi calls while proceeding to the veranda —just big enough for a laundry line—as Tsukishima puts on a sweatshirt.

Tsukishima makes the mistake of allowing his gaze to follow Yamaguchi's movement's as he hangs the clothes with a peg. The desire to embrace Yamaguchi from behind consumes him. He wants to trail his fingers underneath Yamaguchi's sweatshirt and pinch his nipples. Next, he'll lower Yamaguchi's sweatpants and tease his cock. When he slides his cock between Yamaguchi's legs and creates frictions with his sac, Yamaguchi will moan in a way no woman ever could make him. Then he'll sink his teeth in the slope between Yamaguchi's neck and shoulder, claiming him there and announcing to the entire neighborhood: he is mine.

With Yamaguchi's back to him, Tsukishima deeply inhales the fabric he is wearing. Yamaguchi's scent calms him. In fact, it works too well. Everything feels so warm and fuzzy that his built-up adrenaline melts away. He has been pulling all-nighters the last few days, trying to complete as many projects as possible before his departure to Japan. Now Sleep's mighty arms pull him into its embrace. His eyelids droop and he's barely aware of Yamaguchi moving around the kitchen counter to make coffee. The last thing Tsukishima's brain registers before darkness takes over is that for the first time in a long time he feels he's right at home.

---

Chapter 4

"How much sugar do you usually put in your coffee?" Yamaguchi asks.

When no reply comes from Tsukishima, Yamaguchi turns around, only to find Tsukishima sleeping in a seated position. After setting the coffee mugs on the kitchen counter, he takes off Tsukishima's glasses and puts them on the table. Next, he shifts his futon to Tsukishima's location and lays his guest there, keeping his movements to a minimum so as not to disturb the slumbering man.

He's truly gorgeous. Is he a model? His girlfriend—or maybe even wife—is so lucky.

Yamaguchi's gaze traces the contour of Tsukishima's face, and then follows the jutting bone that leads to the shoulder blades. The view of the satin-smooth skin ends where the collar of his sweatshirt covers the rest of the sleeper's body, but Yamaguchi has already caught glimpses of the glorious figure underneath those fabrics while they were changing. Truth be told, his eyes can't help but linger a little longer at the sight. Being an active member of the volleyball club at the university and The Neighborhood Association after he graduated, he has seen plenty of half-naked men in the locker room. None of them ever made his cock twitch; yet now, he is plunged into a pool of hopeless desire simply by looking at the sleeping man.

An urge jabs Yamaguchi's heart. How would it feel to kiss Tsukishima's lips? What would it be like to skate his fingers across that toned chest and dip into the crevice between his pecs and then down to his abs? He imagines next they'll travel further down, over those luscious hip bones, before reaching his cock. The mental vision of how Tsukishima's heart rate would accelerate, face redden, nipples perk up—all because of him—sets Yamaguchi's loins on fire.

The next second, Yamaguchi's conscience yanks him back to morals and propriety. In the last five years—the only part of his life with his memories intact—he has never felt this way toward a guy. What the heck am I thinking? I'm not even gay!

To distract his mind from the alluringly reclining figure within his grasp, Yamaguchi switches his laptop on and begins browsing various job interview tips and rereads the company profile of his prospective employer. It isn't until a yawn breaks from his mouth that he glimpses at the laptop's clock and sees it is 1:45 a.m.

Since the heater is broken and Yamaguchi has only a single futon and blanket in his possession, he creeps next to Tsukishima and lies there. The few centimeters' gap between their bodies gives Yamaguchi reprieve for the first few minutes only. Then his slumbering self is woken up by an arm slinging itself over his stomach. He manages to remove it without waking Tsukishima, only to have his blanket pulled from him. To make matters worse, Tsukishima keeps tossing and turning in his sleep.

After an hour of this, now tired and vexed, Yamaguchi makes up his mind to shake the sleeper's shoulder and tell him off when Tsukishima mumbles something that makes him stop dead in his tracks.

Yamaguchi blinks at the sound of his name escaping the sleeping man's mouth. "Tsukishima-san, are you awake? Cut it out! I can't go to sleep if you keep tossing and turning."

The only reply Yamaguchi receives is a chest that heaves up and down in tune with the rhythm of steady breathing. Still, this, combined with the way Tsukishima called to him in his sleep, is enough to weaken Yamaguchi's resolution. The next time Tsukishima slings an arm over him, he lets it be.

Minutes pass. It feels awkward at first. But then, a strange sense of peace settles over him. Being hugged like this is kinda nice…

Yamaguchi feels inexplicably comfortable with this man, and he's so relieved he saved Tsukishima from the ice-cold river. All that seems a world away now, as he listens to the rhythm of the sleeper's breathing. His guest's skin looks delectable, his breath is warm, and he gives off a homey ambiance—nostalgic and comforting and the impression of having always been there, waiting for him.

But how come? None of his university friends and work colleagues has ever made him feel this way.

Wouldn't it be nice if he and Tsukishima came home from work and snuggled on a sofa while watching TV after dinner? How would it feel to go sightseeing together and hold hands when no one else was looking? What would it be like to spend his time next to a person with whom he was mutually in love?

"Tadashi…"

Ah, he mumbles my name in his sleep again, not unlike a little kid longing for his mother or his favorite toy. Yamaguchi chuckles. Or a lovesick person pining for their loved one, a suggestion whispers in the back of Yamaguchi's head.

His breath hitches. It can't be!

Tsukishima doesn't stir in his sleep, but beads of tears accumulate at the corners of his eyelids. "… da … shi…"

But why does he keep chanting my name like it's the most important thing for him? Yamaguchi shakes his head; this "lovers" notion has gone overboard.

This is bad. This is seriously bad. When he holds me in his arms like this, I can't shake off the feeling that this is where I meant to be.

Yamaguchi tries to take a deep, calming breath.

###

In his second year of university, Yamaguchi drunkenly crashed into a delivery truck on his way home from a party. The memory of the hellish five moths he spent in a wheelchair, followed by another eight in which he underwent physiotherapy due to fractured bones and broken ribs, plus two years of regular checkups afterward, still gives him shudders. Although he sustained no permanent disability, he had lost his memory. His phone hadn't been so lucky; it had been broken beyond repair. However, he was certain that neither the data from the partial cloud backups nor the photographs in the Yamaguchi family albums contained any image resembling Tsukishima among his volleyball teammates, schoolmates, and relatives.

###

Yamaguchi steals another glance at Tsukishima's sleeping face. Oh well, he may wake up in a different position in the morning without remembering ever hugging me.

He can't help imagining what it would be like if he had woken up at the hospital five years ago with a guy like Tsukishima claiming to be his boyfriend. Would he have believed him?

It is a middle-aged couple claiming to be his parents and a boy in his late teens claiming to be his brother who were at his bedside then. As the days went by, more visitors came to him, claiming to be his university friends. Shimada-san dropped by too, along with some guys from the Neighborhood Association and their old volleyball club faculty advisor.

That's right, Shimada-san said that Tsukishima-san studied abroad, Yamaguchi consoles himself. He wouldn't have known about my amnesia in the first place.

Yamaguchi closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

###

In his dream, he's lying on a convalescing bed while Dr. Tsukishima examines him. The doctor is diagnosing his illness, but Yamaguchi is too captivated by the delectable movements of the handsome man's lips and the way his glasses glint under the fluorescent light to pay attention to the medical explanation.

"Your heart's beating so fast," Tsukishima says after placing his stethoscope on the patient's chest. "Is it because of me?" Neglecting the device, his hand roams down the hospital gown covering Yamaguchi's torso.

How Yamaguchi wishes that the single barrier of fabric would disappear! He longs to feel the pads of Tsukishima's covetous fingers directly against his skin.

"Will your heart beat even faster if I do this?" Tsukishima tilts Yamaguchi's chin while bending forward so that only a breath exists between their faces.

While the more rational part of Yamaguchi screams that this isn't the right conduct between a doctor and a patient, the rush of feelings that flows through the rest of him feels like an impulsion too impossible to evade and too powerful to deny. When Tsukishima's lips brush lightly against his, nearly connecting, he wants nothing more than to press his mouth with intent. Even as Tsukishima's hot, esurient tongue pries his lips open and slithers past his teeth, flooding his mouth with a yearning, Yamaguchi's ardent hand reaches around Tsukishima's neck to deepen the kiss.

"Do you want me?" Tsukishima rasps in an erotic baritone as soon as they break to take a breather.

Their bodies aren't touching anywhere else and his groins painfully feel the need to change that. However, as much as Yamaguchi intends to shout HELL YES, his voice dies in his throat. The only sounds that get past his mouth are broken whimpers, so he pleads with his eyes, conveying what his heart desires to Tsukishima with his gaze.

###

Yamaguchi wakes up with morning wood and Tsukishima's arm slung over his waist. He casts a worried glance at the man lying next to him. Much to his relief, Tsukishima is still fast asleep, undisturbed by his predicament. Oh well, he may wake up in a different position in the morning without remembering ever hugging me.

After quick care in the bathroom, Yamaguchi goes back to sleep again.

---

Chapter 5

The beeping alarm of Yamaguchi's phone wakes the two sleepers an hour later. Tsukishima finds a third of his body on a futon and the rest on the tatami. The blanket is even farther away to his right.

"Sorry about this." Yamaguchi bolts upright to silence the alarm. "I have to go to a job interview, but feel free to sleep a little longer. You can just slide the key through the gap under the door when you leave. I've got a spare."

Through bleary eyes, Tsukishima tries to figure out what has happened. He slowly recalls how Yamaguchi prevented him from drowning before bringing him here, and that he dozed off the moment he'd changed clothes the previous night. He mumbles a sleepy "Good luck!" then rolls back to the futon and falls asleep again.

By the time Tsukishima gets up, Yamaguchi has been gone from the apartment for hours. The cramped room is quiet, save for the hustle and bustle of the passing vehicles outside. His head throbs a little from the hangover, but it's not too bad. It's a good thing he'd bought only six cans of beers. Then it hits him: he has been sleeping on the futon where Yamaguchi was likely having sex with his girlfriend the previous evening.

Shit! Tsukishima punches the guiltless futon. How he wishes to disinfect himself as soon as possible!

He glances at the bathroom in the corner. Should he borrow Yamaguchi's towel and a change of clothes without permission? Perhaps Tadashi left a note or something.

There's no paper on the fridge door. He retrieves his glasses from the low table and notices a piece of paper weighted by a key underneath them. The paper reads: "I hope you sleep well. Here's the key. I'd still love to catch up with you. Call me sometime?"

Tsukishima grins as soon as he finishes reading the scribbled phone number. He already has the number from the detective he hired, but Yamaguchi writing it on his own accord holds special meaning. Furthermore, the fact that Yamaguchi carries his own spare key rather than entrusting it to his girlfriend boosts Tsukishima's spirit. He brings the paper to his mouth and kisses the handwriting he hasn't seen for years.

Tsukishima drinks some water from the sink before refilling the glass. He takes it to the balcony, where he splashes its content onto his damp shirt and trousers. After returning the washed glass to the drying, he approaches the low table, where he writes underneath Yamaguchi's scribble:

"I slept well thanks to your hospitality. Are you free for either lunch or dinner? I'd like to thank you properly for saving my life and for letting me crash at your place even though I was such an ass last night. Also, my clothes aren't fully dried yet, so I'll have to collect them and return yours later."

Tsukishima rereads it to make sure he doesn't sound too pushy before adding his number and "P.S. Here's my LINE ID. Drop me a message when and where we should meet up. I'm free at any time."

###

Yamaguchi's reply comes while Tsukishima is writing some business correspondence on his hybrid laptop, shortly after stepping out of the shower in his hotel room: "Hi, shall we meet for lunch at 12:30? This restaurant will hit the spot if you're in the mood for noodles." Underneath the message there is a photo of a small ramen shop followed by a clickable Google Maps link. It's five blocks away from the river he fell into last night.

Looking at the vending machine outside the ramen shop, Tsukishima doesn't have to guess that Yamaguchi has selected that place for financial reasons. When customers get tickets from the machine by paying in advance, they aren't required to leave tips for the restaurant's staff.

Something else, however, pokes Tsukishima's concern. The note Yamaguchi scribbled in a hurry this morning had contained more pleasantries than his online message.

Tadashi used to stay quiet when he was upset or troubled. Is he feeling down because of another failed interview?

---

Chapter 6

A sigh escapes Yamaguchi's lips as he collects his meal tickets from the vending machine outside the ramen shop. He'd rather have a chat with an old friend when he's in a better mood, but Tsukishima's wet clothes on his balcony are waiting to be collected. He hopes he won't be a party pooper by complaining too much about his failure.

As Yamaguchi parts the indigo noren curtain of the entryway, he is met with counter seating wrapping around an open kitchen as a way of offering diners a view of the ramen-making process. A figure seated in the corner, however, catches his attention and everything else fades away. The welcome greeting of the restaurant's staff, other people in the room, and even his harried morning feels worlds apart from him. Like a divine statue of some Greco-Roman god, Tsukishima is waiting in all his regality. Although dressed casually, his outfit looks pricier than all the furniture in the little shop combined. What a contrast, compared to the drunkard who fell into the river last night! But more than the luxurious fabrics, what makes him appear most unapproachable is his stolid expression as he scrolls down his phone.

"Excuse me," a voice tears Yamaguchi back to reality. He blinks and only realizes just then that he has been blocking the entryway and now another customer needs to exit the restaurant.

After apologizing to the man, Yamaguchi scurries his way toward Tsukishima. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Tsukishima-san."

Tsukishima looks up and greets him with a winning smile. "Don't sweat it. I've only just arrived. And you do look good in that suit."

Yamaguchi's heart skips a beat. Although he realizes that exchanging pleasantries is a part of adult living, the words sound like staple phrases for a date. He drags his movements as he hands his meal tickets to a waiter to buy him a temporary excuse not to look at the other man.

A different waiter asks Tsukishima, "Would you like your ramen to be served now?"

"Yeah."

Yamaguchi whets his appetite with a bowl containing three different thicknesses of sanshukongomen noodles topped with melt-in-the-mouth aburi pork cubes, soft-boiled marinated egg, bamboo shoots, seaweed, and scallions. The briny depth of the soy sauce complimented by the smoky flavor of the pork paired with the slow-braised onion sauce—just as mentioned in the online reviews—is the main reason he chose this restaurant. When he glances at Tsukishima, the taller man is slurping his Okinawa salt-soup base noodles with equal enjoyment.

After Yamaguchi drains the last drop of water from his glass, Tsukishima asks, "So, how did the interview go?"

"Another failure." Yamaguchi stands up and begins to walk away, unmistakable shame in his tone.

Tsukishima follows him to the street. "What position are you aiming for?"

"Just any general position will do. I don't have a strong preference."

"Ah," Tsukishima says as though he's solved the problem. "In other words, you think that by throwing generic one-size-fits-all résumés to all company job offers, one will stick somehow."

Yamaguchi fidgets.

"Try to think from a company's point of view. If I were in HR, I'd be thinking, 'Why should I hire this one over the cheaper fresh graduates?'" Tsukishima notices Yamaguchi's eyes widen in genuine surprise, but he continues, "Still, some companies are willing to give nondescript applications a chance. That's probably how you've landed some interviews."

"I've never … well, I thought that my résumés were good enough, but I always failed getting the job because I got too nervous during the interviews."

"That is another factor." Tsukishima peers at him. "Tell me, how would you describe yourself in three words?"

"Eh? We're gonna practice interviews right now?"

Tsukishima insists, "Just answer the question."

"Um, um, I'm … uh, diligent, punctual, and … uh, dedicated."

"What sane candidate would say that they're lazy, stupid, and the like?" Tsukishima chides. "To the interviewer, it's not your actual answer that matters most, but how you respond to that question. In your case, the lack of confidence couldn't be more obvious. Any stutters, gestures, or body language that indicate you can't adapt fast enough in an unexpected situation is a no go."

Yamaguchi blinks. "You sound like an interview expert. Do you work as HRD personnel?"

"No, but I interviewed prospective employees when I started my own business. My company wasn't big enough to have such a department back then."

"You have a company of your own? Wow, to think we're the same age, but with such a gap in success… Oops, sorry, I didn't mean…"

"It's okay." Tsukishima clears his throat. "Back to the issue at hand. Surely, some of your interviewers have asked where you'd picture yourself in five years?"

Yamaguchi nods. "Yup, and I always give them the same answer. Basically, I'd like to go steady with my job. You know, things like going to the office every weekday from nine to five. Of course, if there were still work to be done, I'd stay to work overtime."

A dry tone colors Tsukishima's reply, "With that answer you might as well be saying goodbye to sales-related job offers."

"Huh? Why?"

"If you owned a shop, wouldn't you go for rising profits rather than the same rate of profit every year for a lifetime? How can that be achieved without the ambition from your marketing team and sales assistants?"

Yamaguchi opens his mouth, but no word comes out. The distraught look in his eyes making it apparent that he cannot form coherent words.

"Look," Tsukishima says, placing a hand on his shoulder, "You've been good at keeping things organized and encouraging people since we were kids. Why don't you apply for administrative posts?"

Have I? Even if you say so, it sounds like a story about someone else's life to me. "I guess I didn't think much about it. Maybe because most of the part-time jobs I've gotten so far have been sales assistants in convenience stores and family restaurants."

"Then, what about this: How would you picture yourself if you were the sole survivor in a fire accident?"

Yamaguchi quirks his brow, failing to see the connection between this question and the topic of his job interview. Still, he replies, "I'd feel relieved, of course, and I'd call the fire-fighters if they weren't already there."

Tsukishima's movements while adjusting his glasses look stilted, like he initially wanted to strangle Yamaguchi then changed his mind. "Those who optimistically think outside the box would answer with something along the lines of, 'I'm glad I was the only one inside that building.' That's the sort of answer required for jobs that demands considerable problem solving and, sometimes, creativity."

Their discourse continues all the way down to Yamaguchi's apartment.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?" Yamaguchi offers as he unlocks his apartment door.

"Nah, I'm good."

As soon as Yamaguchi takes off his shoes, he proceeds to the balcony without even removing his coat. With one hand still probing the hung laundry, he announces, "I expected your coat to be damp, but to think that your shirt and pants aren't dry either… Oh well, maybe it's because of the cloudy and windless weather."

"It doesn't matter. I can always collect them another day," Tsukishima says with a nonchalance.

Yamaguchi blinks.

"I owe you my life. I'm gonna help you get your dream job no matter what. Interview practice when you aren't working is the least I can do." To emphasize his point, Tsukishima takes a seat at the low table.

"Gee, that's … uh, that's really…" Yamaguchi scratches the back of his head as he approaches. "But don't you have any sightseeing to do?"

"I came to Japan to see my family, and since I've already done that, I've got nothing else to do," Tsukishima lies. "Anyway, thanks for lending me your clothes." He places a plastic bag on the low table. "Now then, I need to analyze more of your strengths and weaknesses. Show me your résumé."

Yamaguchi collects the bag after he hands Tsukishima two sheets of paper. Noticing the laundry bag emblazoned with a hotel logo in gold lettering, he comments, "Oh, you didn't need to have them washed and ironed. I was going to do my laundry tonight."

"I needed to get my other clothes cleaned, so I thought why not?" Tsukishima replies as he continues scrutinizing the document.

A few minutes later, Tsukishima delivers his verdict. "In terms of design, this resume is a great attention-getter. Your use of margins and paragraph spacing, choice of colors, and illustrative clip arts in the right places make the document comfortable to read. As far as the contents go, on the other hand, I must say it wouldn't stand out from the crowd."

Yamaguchi fidgets, but Tsukishima points at the lower section of the first page. "For example, this part here." Heart racing, Yamaguchi leans closer to the taller man, trying his best to keep up his casual pretense. "Rather than stating you're a part-time waiter responsible for serving food and beverages to the restaurant's customers, wouldn't it sound better if you said that you take an active role in increasing sales by recommending the desserts to go with the customers' selection of main dishes?"

When Yamaguchi doesn't respond, Tsukishima looks up at him. The sight of the blush coloring Yamaguchi's cheeks almost makes him smirk. The dying embers of desire have been re-lit; all that's left now is stoking the fire.

Before Tsukishima can say anything else, the tiny apartment rattles. The calendar hanging on the wall undulates. Stationery and cooking utensils vibrate. Then everything stops clattering and the apartment resumes its normal stillness.

"Earthquake?"

"Nah, this place shakes each time a train passes nearby. It comes with cheap rent, you see," Yamaguchi explains.

They continue Acing Your Résumé and Interview 101 for one more hour before Yamaguchi declares that he has to work at half past two.

As they step outside the apartment, Tsukishima asks, "Are you going to Shimada Mart?"

Yamaguchi locks the apartment door. "Nope, I wash the dishes for a catering company today."

They are heading to the nearest bus stop when Tsukishima inquires, "Tomorrow's Saturday. Are you free?"

Yamaguchi shakes his head. "It's the opposite, actually. I've got my hands full on weekends. I work for a removal company from nine to five then at a pizzeria from six to two a.m. The removal service is closed on Sundays, so I wear a raccoon costume and play mascot for the zoo during the day, but I still deliver the pizzas at night."

With an extended sigh, Tsukishima replies, "And I have a hunch you also work on Monday morning."

"Well, the slots for an office janitor are only available on Mondays from six to nine. But hey, I can wind down after that. My next part-time work won't start 'til Tuesday evening."

"In that case, will you join me on an overnight trip starting Monday afternoon?" Then Tsukishima appends, "Ah, but you'd probably want to spend your free time with your girlfriend instead."

"No, I'm not dating anyone at the moment," Yamaguchi replies. He knows he should feel guilty about letting Miura go, but what he feels instead is that a burden has been taken off his shoulders. He can't even suppress his grin as he thinks, I wasdumped.

Then he looks at Tsukishima only to find a stunned look in the taller man's eyes. Is it so hard to believe that he isn't dating anyone at the moment? He has no time to ask; the bus is closing in, and his gait breaks into a run. Waving his hand, he calls, "I'd love to go with you. Text me the details."

###

The stacks of crockery and cooking utensils at the sink keep Yamaguchi preoccupied for two whole hours. However, he has lots of free time at his next part-time job: pet-sitting for an old dog who sleeps a lot.

There's no message from Tsukishima yet. Swallowing his disappointment, Yamaguchi pockets his phone and reaches for the TV remote control instead. Instead of paying attention to the variety show, he recalls a moment: Tsukishima leaning close to him as they discussed his résumé. If only their foreheads had touched, and that simple skin contact had instigated a kiss…

Yamaguchi sighs. Despite knowing it's wrong to fantasize about a man he barely knows, he can't help it. With Tsukishima, the gap that's supposed to be too close for comfort feels as though it isn't close enough.

Why can't I get enough of him?

The phone vibrates. Yamaguchi fishes it out and grins when he sees the sticker Tsukishima sends: a cartoon fox with a speech balloon saying "Ganbatte!"

Somehow, receiving a "Do your best!" encouragement from Tsukishima blows Yamaguchi's fatigue away. An exuberance envelops him, eliciting hum after hum from his mouth. He replies immediately with a "Thank you" sticker, but he doesn't expect another sticker from Tsukishima four hours later. This time, it's a pajama-clad panda in bed stamped with a "Good Night." speech balloon. The next day, a "Good Morning" sticker with a bear waving its hand, pops up on Yamaguchi's screen.

Those stickers, however, are nothing compared to Tsukishima himself at the pizzeria on Saturday night. No other customer is eating at the small restaurant since it's approaching eleven and the business focuses more on deliveries that late. After parking the pizzeria's scooter, Yamaguchi enters the restaurant from the back. When he emerges from the kitchen to the dining area, the man sitting at the corner takes his breath away.

"Tsukishima-san… What a happy coincidence!"

"Yeah, I have a craving for pepperoni pizza tonight, but the hotel doesn't sell any." Tsukishima returns his gaze to his hybrid laptop and scrolls down its touch screen. "So, this is where you work, huh?"

"Uh-huh. Can I get you anything?"

"Thanks. I already ordered."

Assuming that this is his cue to leave, Yamaguchi turns around. He is only on his second step when Tsukishima calls out, "Actually, you could keep me company if your manager doesn't mind."

Without lifting his head from the newspaper he is reading behind the counter, the mustachioed manager answers, "Go ahead. Just return to your station as soon as another customer arrives."

"Thank you, sir." Yamaguchi takes the seat opposite Tsukishima. He observes how serious the bespectacled man's expression is and asks, "You're still working at this hour?"

"It's still office hours in Belgium, and I have to leave instructions to my employers."

"Belgium?" Yamaguchi blinks. "You live there?"

Tsukishima nods and a small "oh" escapes Yamaguchi's mouth. If this means Tsukishima has to leave Japan in a few days…

Suddenly a recent advertisement based on Sleeping Beauty comes to mind. He recalls one of the scenes depicting thorny shrubs that covers the castle during the princess' slumber. The same shrubs are growing all over him now, tormenting every inch of his flesh with unforgiving thorns from the inside.

"What's wrong?" Tsukishima transfers his gaze from the monitor to Yamaguchi. "You've gone quiet."

"I thought you'd returned to Japan for good."

Tsukishima eyes Yamaguchi with a pained expression. He clenches his fists. "I can't. Japan doesn't agree with me."

Yamaguchi bites his lower lip. Why must you elate my heart, only to break it into pieces? "Is it food? The climate?"

Tsukishima shakes his head. "There are some people here that I can't get along with."

"But surely you still have a family who cares about you."

"My family is among those people." Tsukishima stabs his straw into the clear, tall glass of strawberry milkshake in front of him.

Yamaguchi swallows. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

Tsukishima gives him a shrug. "It's alright. It's for the best that I live overseas."

"But still, at least your relationship with your family can't be that bad, right? I mean, you visited them the other day."

A noncommittal grunt is all Tsukishima gives him, so Yamaguchi changes the subject. "You love sweet things?"

"Yup."

"Wow, that's unexpected. You have this … serious … face that makes people think you'd drown yourself in caffeine several times a day."

Yamaguchi's colleague carries pepperoni pizza on a wooden chopping board and places it on the table. "Thank you for waiting. Here's your order."

After the waiter leaves, Tsukishima asks Yamaguchi, "Are soggy fries still your favorite food?"

"Yeah, they're my weekly treats." Yamaguchi's face melds into a smile. "Y'know, I kinda feel bad that you still remember my favorite after all those years, but I don't even know yours."

"Strawberry shortcake. There. Now we're even," Tsukishima replies as he slices the pizza. "Aren't you going to have any?"

"Can't. It's still my working hours."

"And here I thought I gave you a break the moment you sat down with your friend," the manager asserts from behind his newspaper.

"Eh? Oh. Thank you, sir." Yamaguchi grins sheepishly. "I'll take a slice, then."

"About Monday afternoon," Tsukishima begins. "Is it okay if we push the schedule forward? I planned to spare you a couple hours of sleep at home, but I figured it'd be better if you sleep on the bullet train."

"Hmm, you aren't going to rent a car instead? Wouldn't it be more effective if we plan to visit multiple places, since we wouldn't have to change transportation?"

"I've never driven in Japan, and the driver's seat is on the left in Belgium."

Yamaguchi swallows his pizza before replying, "I see. It is risky to have your first try during such a long distance."

"So, Monday at ten-thirty?"

"Ten thirty it is."

---

Chapter 7

Monday can't come fast enough for Tsukishima. Except for time in the hotel gym and heated swimming pool, he has spent the weekend holed up in his room, glaring at his laptop. Between analyzing the rise and fall of stock prices and business correspondences, he researches his options for holiday destinations and makes all the necessary bookings. He can't tell whether Yamaguchi recently broke up with Miura or if they were never lovers in the first place. Whichever is the case, he isn't going to waste this opportunity to woo his love interest in earnest.

After checking out from the hotel, Tsukishima heads straight to Yamaguchi's apartment and finds him packing his last pair of socks into an army green duffel bag. Despite the bags around his eyes, Yamaguchi seems excited to leave for the trip. When the freckled man hands over Tsukishima's dried clothes, the owner requests that those clothes be kept there until they get back from the trip.

On the way to the station, they pass two little boys holding ice cream cones. The curly-haired one offers his friend a taste, but the straight-haired one devours it whole in one gulp. The curly-haired boy protests and tries to eat his friend's portion in retaliation, so the two boys begin to fight for the remaining ice cream.

Yamaguchi chuckles. "Were we like that when we were small?"

Tsukishima shakes his head. "We never fought over food or toys. Not even once." You treated me like your liege lord, even though I wished you'd see me as an equal.

Yamaguchi refuses when Tsukishima tries to pay for their station lunchboxes. "You've already paid for all my transport tickets. The least I can do is buy you this ekiben."

That brings back memories. During their high school dates, Yamaguchi bought their popcorn and drinks whenever Tsukishima paid for the cinema tickets. He's lost count of how many times he's imagined Yamaguchi feeding him directly from his fingers back then. The same thoughts refuse to leave his mind now.

Upon reaching their seats, Tsukishima asks Yamaguchi to choose first—something that Yamaguchi used to offer him instead of the other way around. Whenever they had sat on a school bus, Tsukishima used to pick the window seat because the seclusion it gave facilitates facilitated less interaction with people other than Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi always abided by Tsukishima's wish without ever questioning him. Today, he asks Tsukishima to choose first even though Tsukishima has presented him with that opportunity.

"If you're going to sleep, it may be better if you take the window seat," Tsukishima suggests.

Yamaguchi accepts the offer with a flustered face and a stuttered thank you. In Japan, window seats are regarded as kamiza or the seats of honor meant for people with either higher status or superior age over their companions.

However, after the bullet train leaves the station, Yamaguchi shows no sign of enjoying a holiday. If anything, he looks rather tense.

"Aren't you gonna sleep?" Tsukishima asks as he charges his phone and tablet with the plugs next to Yamaguchi's seat.

A pensive look upon his face, Yamaguchi intones, "I've been wondering… What were you like, back in our school days?"

"We were polar opposites. You'd rather be courteous and stay out of trouble; I'd snicker and degrade others at every given opportunity."

Yamaguchi's eyes widen with undisguised doubt. "You were? Even though you're so kind to me now?"

"Who'd be able to survive in today's society without adapting? Do you think business associates, colleagues, and customers would tolerate such bratty attitudes?" Tsukishima replies with a snicker pulling his mouth askew.

"Still, I'm having a hard time imagining you insulting people."

"Picture this. Karasuno was going to the nationals for the first time and the match is about to start. Our entire team was a nervous wreck. One teammate even had to go to the shithouse. You offered to watch his belongings, but I made fun of his anxiety and, to rub salt to the wound, I told him that he was going to make us all late. That's the sort of person I was. And still am, given the chance."

"Try it."

Tsukishima blinks. "Try what?"

"Try to insult me."

Tsukishima quirks his brow, but convinces Yamaguchi that he wasn't kidding about his salty personality the very next second. "You rhinoceros nose, baboon cheeks, hippopotamus mouth, turkey-droopy jowls, pigsty breath, dugong-slobby belly. Your whole life's not worth a rotten nut to me. With all those home-grown dung body odor, brackish sewer dribbling drool, and lame rags you have the gall to call clothes, quintessential ninny, no doubt a stuck worm would be more discerning than you. Compared to you, that cur over there is nothing more than a maimed wreck of a scum, a pile of pus, a compendium of failures, and an inevitable waste of space."

"Whoa, whoa, you really do insult as naturally as you breathe. Sheesh. I don't know whether I should laugh or cry, Tsukishi—actually, it sounds stiff when I call you 'Tsukishima.' Do you mind if … um, can I call you by a nickname? Like 'Tsukki'?"

Breath catches in Tsukishima's throat. At the training camps, a handful of Nekoma and Fukurodani players had nicknamed him 'Tsukki,' but none of them sounded the same as when Yamaguchi said it. He feels one step closer to regaining the old Yamaguchi—the one who loved him back. If the entire universe were to explode, a big bang inside him, perhaps this was would it would feel like. He hastily grabs his bottled juice and unscrews its cap while blinking back tears.

"Tsukki's fine," he mutters before bringing the bottle's rim to his mouth. His free hand grips the seat's hand rest to prevent himself from floating in mid-air; his insides soar with an elation he hasn't felt in years. From the corner of his eye, he watches Yamaguchi beam.

"Goodnight, Tsukki." Yamaguchi leans his head against the backrest of his seat and closes his eyes.

###

Tsukishima shakes Yamaguchi's shoulders to wake him up as a mechanical female voice announces that the train has arrived in Tokyo. Then, unplugging the iPad and iPhone chargers from the sockets on Yamaguchi's left, he tells him, "We need to change to the Tōkyū Den-en-toshi Line."

Yamaguchi rubs his bleary eyes before snatching his belongings to follow Tsukishima dismounting from the train. They course the length of the platform until the taller man halts in front of a wall with Tokyo's railroad map attached.

"At which station do we need to hop off?" Yamaguchi asks.

"Komazawa-daigaku."

"That's just two stations away from an interview venue I was at last month. This way."

As they wait for the shinkansen on the platform a few minutes later, Yamaguchi asks, "Where are we going anyway?"

With a crooked grin, Tsukishima simply says, "Take a guess."

"That's unfair. You didn't even give me any hint about what sort of activity you have in mind. Besides, I've never visited this area before; I've only heard that it's the location for Komazawa Olympic Park Stadium."

"And that's exactly where we're going. There'll be a volleyball match this afternoon. Two of our former teammates are gonna be in it."

"Eh? Who?"

"Kageyama and Hinata. Do you remember them?"

"Nah. I heard the news about two Karasuno graduates getting admitted into the national team, though. Some of my university colleagues said that I should brag about ever having been on the same team as them … but honestly, nothing came to mind even after I looked at their photos in my albums." Yamaguchi must have noticed the furrow between Tsukishima's eyebrows because he changed his solemn tone into a lighter, more cheerful one. "So, you've heard about our other teammates?"

"Well, the seniors have dispersed throughout Japan. Most still played volleyball at university, but I never followed up on them. As for those who graduated the same year as us, the idiot duo joined the national team. And you … what about you?"

"I joined the Neighborhood Association with Shimada-san. Are you still playing volleyball yourself?"

Tsukishima nods. "Once a week, after work, I play with the other volleyball hobbyists at the sports center near my condo."

"You've never considered going pro?"

"Many players are better than me, even in high school they were. Besides, my height—which used to be an advantage against Japanese players—counts as merely average in Europe."

The thunderous noise of steel against steel signifies the bullet train's arrival. Although they don't get a seat, standing up doesn't pose a problem for them. Neither are tired after being seated for hours during their previous journey.

After a twelve-minute walk from the Komazawa-daigaku Station, they arrive at the Komazawa Olympic Park Stadium. The faint scent of air Salonpas greets them even before they step foot inside the volleyball courts. Row upon row of vividly-painted seats are packed with spectators of varying ages and genders. How Tsukishima has missed this! He hasn't been to live matches since he built his own business—the day-to-day tasks demand his full attention, leaving him with very little time for leisure, including practicing with the local community in Ostend.

Years of practice have brought Hinata's volleyball aptitude to a whole new level compared to when he was in high school. Back then, no matter how inferior Tsukishima felt when compared to Hinata, he suspected he could overtake that shrimp's monstrous reflexes if only he had worked harder. Today he doubts he can catch up to him in a million years even if he were to employ a million strategies. Although King's freakishly accurate tosses have come to light since his teenage years, it's still shocking to see him blend so well with his teammates, even outside his duo with Shrimp. His level of synchronization with the rest of the team makes it seems as though "the king of the court" had never earned that old title.

"Can we stay a bit to say hi to our old teammates?" Yamaguchi asks when Tsukishima rises from his seat as soon as the match ends with the victory to Kageyama and Hinata's team.

"Not today." Tsukishima shakes his head. "We have a ship to catch. Let's go!"

"Ship? Where to?" Yamaguchi follows his companion winding his way among the sea of spectators.

"You'll see."

Emerging from the exit, Tsukishima heads straight to the reserved taxi stand , where three sedans are waiting. His eyes dart from one vehicle's plate to another before he approaches the rearmost taxi. He recites his booking code to the driver, and the car glides onto the highway within seconds.

"Could you drive faster?" Tsukishima asks the driver. "Our ship is supposed to set sail at seven."

"Well, as much as I'd like to get you there on time, there's nothing I can do about traffic. It's dinner time, so the streets are packed with cars, sir."

At six-forty, the street they are passing is jammed so heavily that Tsukishima decides to abandon their ride. He hands a five-thousand-yen bill to the taxi driver. "Here, keep the change." Then he snatches his bag and dashes outside, Yamaguchi at his heels. They run at full speed through the streets of Tokyo with the digital map on Tsukishima's phone as their sole guide.

A few blocks later, they catch another taxi on a less crowded street and reach the pier in nine minutes. The passengers have started to board the ferry when Tsukishima pays the taxi driver. After the taxi reservation, the sight of Tsukishima producing two tickets from his pocket to hand to the ship's crew-member doesn't exceed Yamaguchi's expectation. Even so, the taller man still manages to surprise him by offering him energy bars along with a can of coffee.

"We won't have time to eat properly until at least four hours from now," is the only explanation Tsukishima gives.

---

Chapter 8

The farther the ship carries them away from Honshu shore, the clearer their view of the firmament becomes. Unobstructed by the garish city lights, the coruscating stars bejewel the serene heavens. A pair of lovers, probably one or two years younger than them, leave their seats to approach the railing on the deck. The woman leans her head on the man's shoulder and they lace their fingers.

It is then that Yamaguchi becomes suddenly aware of how close Tsukishima's hand is from his own. If he could just…

What the heck am I thinking! Yamaguchi rebukes himself. He has never been envious of honeymooners during a date with any of his past girlfriends, so why must he envy them now? Tsukki will return to Belgium in a few days and he may even be straight, to boot!

Nausea surges within Yamaguchi, bile rising into his throat, as the ship undulates across the breezy sea. Whatever expression his face is making, it elicits concern from Tsukishima.

"Seasick?"

"I … uh, I think so. I've never been aboard a ship in the past five years or maybe even longer, so—" Instead of finishing his sentence, Yamaguchi swallows hard. He. Must. Not. Vomit. Here.

Tsukishima fishes for a package of medicine from his pocket.

Just how prepared this fellow can be? Yamaguchi wonders as he gratefully accepts the seasick pill.

Yamaguchi exhales in relief to learn that the voyage lasts for little more than half an hour, only to be distressed again when Tsukishima tells him they will be changing into a smaller boat to journey for another twenty or so minutes. Apart from the boater, Tsukishima, and himself, only six passengers are onboard. It comes to Yamaguchi's notice that all six carry tall backpacks with diving fins and snorkels peeking from the mesh. They must be hardcore divers to go for such a trip in mid-November.

"Do you dive regularly?" Yamaguchi asks the nearest passenger, more to distract himself from seasickness than to satisfy his curiosity.

"Uh-huh," the burly man answers. "You?"

"Never tried it before," Yamaguchi confesses. "Hopefully one day I will."

"Rejoice," Tsukishima smirks. "For your wish will come true sooner than expected."

"Wait, you don't mean … Surely you didn't ask me to tag along for a diving trip?"

Tsukishima's grin grows wider.

"No, I can't! I'm not ready. I haven't prepared myself for … for … well, something this big."

Snap. A flash flares from Tsukishima's iPhone, its brilliant spark illuminating the night.

"What are you doing?!"

"Your panicky face is priceless." Tsukishima inserts the phone back into his pocket.

"Delete that photo!" Yamaguchi demands.

"On one condition: you try diving."

"Hey, pal, relax. There's always the first time for everything," says the passenger sitting on the far end of the boat. He seems to be the oldest among them. "First-timers always dive in groups led by professional instructors from the diving center. They won't let you dive any deeper than twenty meters and they'll immediately accompany you to the surface at the slightest distress signal."

"But … what about sharks?"

"You really need to pay attention to documentaries," another passenger replies as she ties her billowing hair into a ponytail. "The few species of sharks that live in shallow water tend to be non-aggressive. They can be territorial, but your diving instructor will steer you away from their path. Even on the rare occasion of an unprovoked attack, they won't be keen on swimming near a floating boat. All in all, the risk of a shark attack remains extremely low, as in about one in eleven-and-a-half million. Less than a hundred and thirty swimmers have died from shark attacks in Asia in the last fifty years, while bees kill an average of five hundred people worldwide every year."

Yamaguchi thinks, Even if I'm not dead, I'd rather not have my arm or leg end up as shark snack either.

Then the curly-haired girl sitting next to the ponytailed one adds, "You do need to watch out for jellyfish stings and sea snakes, though. And coral cuts."

One by one, the divers give tips to Yamaguchi until their small ferry approaches the shore.

The moment they disembark from the boat, the other passengers disperse to their respective destinations, but Tsukishima and Yamaguchi linger. A slim woman in her early thirties with her hair tied in a bun and a coat over a neoprene diving suit, approaches. In a crisp-accented honorific vernacular, she addresses them, "Good evening, might you be Tsukishima-sama and Yamaguchi-sama?"

"That's right," Tsukishima confirms. "I called yesterday."

"Hello." She bows. "I'm Takase Minako and it's my pleasure tonight to serve as the diving instructor for you, gentlemen."

Yamaguchi swallows. The diving isn't going to take place tomorrow?

Takase turns to face Yamaguchi. "Yamaguchi-sama, since this will be your first-time diving, there are a few things we need to cover. Please come this way." She beckons them to follow her into a nearby diving center.

Thank goodness, Yamaguchi thinks. At least the building will shelter them from the bone-chilling nocturnal wind.

Inside, the walls are littered with certificates and divers' photographs. Takase walks past the empty receptionist desk in the center of the room and ushers them into the inner part of the building. Given the diving center's modest size, a couple of turns is all it takes for them to reach their destination. On the way, Takase offers use of any of the vacant lockers in the hallway, should they wish.

The small classroom can probably hold a dozen people at most. A diving tank and mask lay at the lone front desk, which must be the teacher's desk. There are two more in the front row of the students' desks. Yamaguchi's heart leaps to his throat. It is so real; he is going to be expected to use one of them. A part of him wants to cry out that he can't do it, that it's all too sudden, but one look at Tsukishima's expectant eyes and all Yamaguchi's resolution dissolves into nothingness.

"May I see your C-card, Tsukishima-sama?" Takase asks.

Asking for a credit card right away instead of giving customers the options of payment methods? How odd! Yamaguchi thinks. There's no EDC machine anywhere in this room either.

Tsukishima produces a card from his wallet. Rather than a method of payment, it looks more like a crossbreed between a healthcare card and an ID card.

"My, my, when you insisted upon a night dive for the first-time diver, I assumed you held an advanced diving certification holder." Takase beams as she examines the card. "Instead, you have a rescue diver certificate."

Although Yamaguchi can't tell exactly how those certificates work, he guesses, based on how impressed Takase is, that Tsukishima's level is higher than she expected. He turns to Tsukishima and pouts, "You never told me!"

"You never asked."

It isn't until the diving instructor demonstrates how to recover the regulator hose that Tsukishima's earlier method of unplugging his electronic device chargers on the train makes sense to Yamaguchi. Instead of pulling them the right way, Tsukishima touches one end of the cable and sweeps it forward, touching throughout its length until his fingers find the other end. This struck Yamaguchi as a redundant movement back then. Only now he understands that to optimize the chances of retrieving an object underwater with low visibility, the diver's fingers need to explore down the length of the hose. No wonder this habit must have become a part of Tsukishima's daily routine.

The diving instructor also explains the parts of the oxygen tank, how to read the gauge, clear the mask underwater, retain buoyancy by manipulating the amount of air in the neoprene suit, cope with the water pressure, avoiding decompression sickness, and some more basics before she takes them to a rack full of hanging neoprene suits to try on.

It isn't until the diving instructor demonstrates how to recover the regulator hose that Tsukishima's earlier method of unplugging his electronic device chargers on the train makes sense to Yamaguchi. Instead of pulling them the right way, Tsukishima had touched one end of the cable and swept it forward, touching throughout its length until his fingers found the other end. This struck Yamaguchi as a redundant movement back then. Only now he understands that to optimize the chances of retrieving an object underwater with low visibility, the diver's fingers need to explore down the length of the hose. No wonder this habit has become a part of Tsukishima's daily routine.

The diving instructor explains the parts of the oxygen tank, how to read the gauge, clearing the mask underwater, how to retain buoyancy by manipulating the amount of air in the neoprene suit, coping with the water pressure, avoiding decompression sickness, and some more basics before she takes them to a rack full of hanging neoprene suits to try on.

Before they exit the building, Takase makes a suggestion. "Now, we normally perform a buddy check right before we plunge into the water, but since it's dark and cold outside, let's do it here."

The moment Tsukishima begins his checks on Yamaguchi, he has the feeling that he's safe in capable hands. More than that, the fact that everyone else in the vicinity is wearing neoprene suits of different designs and colors from the two of them makes them look like a couple.

Nononononono! Yamaguchi shakes his head in an attempt to clear these thoughts.

The oxygen tank is heavier than it looks. Yamaguchi is relieved that he'll need to carry it for less than fifty meters across the shore, especially considering the pair of diving fins in his other hand and the unfamiliar presence of the diving mask slung over his neck. Thankfully, the sand doesn't get into his diving boots, so he doesn't need to stop during the journey. The best part of all: no more rocking boat.

The moment Yamaguchi steps into the seawater, his body shivers. Although the water doesn't seep through the drysuit, he is still separated from that iciness only by a single layer of neoprene. The frigidity encases him in a cocoon that refuses to let go. How much colder will it get once his whole body sinks underwater when it is already this cold with the water submerging only up to his calves?

Tsukishima taps on his shoulder and points at the light stick hanging from Yamaguchi's oxygen tank, reminding him to break it. The moment he does, the night is bathed in luminescent green lights that look almost ethereal. Then the three of them switch on their underwater flashlights.

Once immersed in the water, the tank feels way, way lighter. Ah, the wonders of gravity!

Recalling what the instructor said about adjusting the air inside his suit, Yamaguchi releases the air from his Buoyancy Compensation Device using the regulator in his mouth until he's at eye level with the water. "Too light and you float, too heavy and you end up having to put large amounts of air in your BCD to compensate for the extra weight," he remembers her explaining.

Yamaguchi finally achieves this after several trials and errors, but Tsukishima and Takase do it at one go. Waiting patiently for him, they start moving only after Yamaguchi mirrors Takase and Tsukishima's O.K. signs.

A dive among the coral reef is a voyage to another world. However, rather than a marine landscape of vibrant coral reefs shaded in clear blue water and teeming with life in a thousand forms as often shown on TV, the sea seems almost devoid of animated beings—much to Yamaguchi's surprise. No tropical fish, no exotic shells, not even the sea creatures that he dreads. Instead, the eerie green light from the three glow sticks casting distorted shadows upon somber corals reminds him of monster-infested crypts from horror flicks.

That feeling is easily ousted by enrapturement. The moment Tsukishima's hand finds his, Yamaguchi no longer imagines ghastly tentacles emerging from the undersea sands of the damned. Suddenly he's flying through midnight blue skies with an infinite reach far beyond the horizon and over surrealistic gardens of coral reefs packed with a thriving marine metropolis. He notices a crawling crab below and a swimming sea tortoise nearby. Then a ray fish hastily buries itself in the sand, stirring clouds of dust as they swim close to it.

As if deciding a picnic spot, Tsukishima looks around and settles on a patch of unoccupied sand. After Takase gives her approval, he signals for Yamaguchi to follow him. Together, the three of them stand there, facing one another. Both Takase and Tsukishima switch off their diving flashlights and signal Yamaguchi to follow suit.

In the newfound darkness, Yamaguchi's breathing speeds up, the air he frantically inhales through the regulator deafening to his ears. But something seizes his attention.

Fireflies? No, they can't be.

Like the conductor of an orchestra, Tsukishima waves his hands. He parts the bioluminescent plankton, creating new lines and curves. At first, Yamaguchi assumes those paths are abstract motifs, but little by little, they form a more familiar shape: the kanji of his full name. Tsukishima finishes by drawing a heart shape to frame the "Yamaguchi Tadashi" letters.

The corny message can't be plainer: "I give my heart to you, Yamaguchi Tadashi."

Despite the icy-cold water around him, heat blooms up Yamaguchi's face and he's grateful that the diving mask covers his blush. He could probably stay there until his oxygen ran out, forgetting that he was under the sea and even the rest of the world except for the one declaration: the gorgeous to a fault, gentle-hearted behind his mask of sarcasm, and cool beyond measure Tsukishima Kei is in love with him. His brain is trying to process that his dream is coming true, but that dream is bound to shatter with Tsukishima returning overseas.

Suddenly Takase appears before him. She holds out her gauge and points at Yamaguchi's with her other hand. It is only then that Yamaguchi notices the insane amount of air bubbles around his head and realizes that he must have been hyperventilating. No wonder the diving instructor asks him to check his air supply.

Since Yamaguchi has only a little more than a third of oxygen left, they agree to surface. A school of fish gallivants past as if telling them goodbye.

With Tsukishima's confession encumbering Yamaguchi's mind, the weight of the diving cylinder doesn't bother him much as he lugs it shoreward. His drenched scalp and dripping hair, however, are by no means invulnerable against the night wind. The goosebumps all over his body give him away: more than anything, he's dying to leave that arctic beach.

After they had cleansed themselves and returned the diving equipment, Takase converses with Yamaguchi while Tsukishima hits the john.

"He's romantic, isn't he? Your partner, I mean."

Yamaguchi blinks. Tsukishima—that one helluva cool guy—is romantic?

"In our phone conversation, I warned him that a first-time diver should take the diving trip in broad daylight for safety reasons, but he was insistent that he needed to show you something that could only be found during a night dive. True enough, the luminous plankton wouldn't have such clear visibility under sunlight." Takase's gaze grows unfocused as she recalls a fond memory. "Five years ago, my then-girlfriend proposed to me underwater, just like Tsukishima-sama did tonight."

"Girlfriend?" Yamaguchi blurts before he can stop himself.

Takase confirms, "Yes, I still remember like it was yesterday… Despite her fatigue tendency and muscle debilitation from an autoimmune disease she'd had since childhood, she was determined to create the best proposal ever using the activity I enjoy most. The process wasn't as smooth for us, though. I didn't get the words she was trying to convey, so she ended up repeating them with sand doodles."

Yamaguchi chuckles.

Takase casts a far-off gaze at a nearby empty space and wistfully remarks, "Yes, Yoko and I were content to have each other until she died three years ago."

"I'm so sorry for your loss." Yamaguchi wants to say more, but his brain is too perplexed to form proper words. Why is this stranger, hired only for a one-off event, sharing such personal details?

"Thank you." Takase blinks back tears as she rubs the ring on her finger, then states with a resolute tone, "The time I spent together with Yoko will remain my most treasured moments for as long as I live. I'm aware it's not my place to advise a client on anything that's not work-related … but I just can't help myself after seeing you two, so young with too much burden on your shoulders."

"But you're not that old, Takase-san. I mean, er, it's easier to see you as a sister than, say, my mother."

Takase evinces a melancholy smile. "Well, there's more to youth than one's age. Mine ended with Yoko's passing, but yours has not." After a sharp intake of breath, she continues, "About Tsukishima-sama … don't worry about what other people may think. Just follow your heart."

When Yamaguchi quirks his brow, she explains, "When others seem to tell that you're living a wrong life or loving the wrong person, I get it that everything seems uncertain. Moreover, from what I gather, Tsukishima-sama stays in Japan only for a short vacation—it's natural that you have doubts about your future if it's going to be long-distance."

Yamaguchi is taken aback; Takase sounds like she's speaking from experience.

She continues, "Fear can easily paralyze even the strongest of us. But if you do nothing and he leaves, what will happen then?"

Picturing the what-if's that will haunt the remainder of his life, Yamaguchi mumbles, "I'd regret it."

"Fear is terrible, but nothing is worse than regret," Takase affirms as she stands up at the approach of Tsukishima's footsteps.

---

Chapter 9

Fifteen minutes later find Tsukishima and Yamaguchi in front of the food stall standing at the last patch of sand that borders the beach before leading to the asphalted road. Decorated with red chochin paper lanterns, the stall looks like an enlarged version of a street food cart. A family of four is occupying one of the three long wooden benches facing the U-shaped countertop.

"Reservation by Tsukishima," Tsukishima announces as soon as they take an empty bench on the side.

"Right-o. The first dish has been prepared as per your request," the oldest cook replies without taking his hand out of a rugby ball-sized conch shell.

Yamaguchi has no doubt that the speaker is the business proprietor. He speaks with authority, as if he wouldn't be swayed were anyone to remind him to use a politer tone to a customer—a trait rarely found in smarmy waiters and waitresses of more urban restaurants.

Over his shoulder, the aged cook orders his subordinate, "Serve the namako!"

"On it, boss," the youngest cook replies. He wastes no time taking out two small plates from the refrigerator, placing them at the table in front of Tsukishima and Yamaguchi.

Tsukishima vaguely recalls the black slug-like creatures from documentaries, but the sliced meat served on the plate before him looks nothing like them. Sure, they look springy, but their light brown color reminds him more of his mother's fish stew than a repulsive-looking sea cucumber. Moreover, he's so hungry that he is prepared to eat almost anything. He takes a bite without hesitation and wolfs down the rest of the salad within minutes. With every bite, the more pronounced the cook's expertise becomes: no off-putting smell, no overcooked or undercooked quality, and seasonings that are just right.

"Tsukki, have you tried sea cucumbers before?" Yamaguchi asks after one of the cooks clears their empty plates to replace it with a new dish.

"Nope. I wanted to eat my first sea cucumber with you."

Yamaguchi asks, "The restaurants overseas don't sell sea cucumbers?"

"I wouldn't say it's impossible to find restaurants that serve them, though it would by no means be an easy feat." I'm saving my first for you. Fearing he may blush if he faces his love interest right now, Tsukishima tries to focus his attention on the cooks. The most senior one is gutting the mollusk he extracted from the conch shell over a large chopping board as it's being sprinkled with running water from a hose. At the far side of the countertop, a mustachioed cook is draining blood from a fish while the other is grating a radish.

"Thanks for waiting. Grilled fugu fins in sake and fugu sashimi. Enjoy."

The fourth cook places a sashimi boat filled with pristine pufferfish sliced so thinly that they look translucent arrayed meticulously over a bed of shredded cabbage, chrysanthemum-shaped carrots, and wasabi piped to resemble koi fish to enhance any onlooker's appetite. Next to this boat are two bowls of steaming soup. Only certified chefs are allowed to serve pufferfish due to the high risk of poisoning, but for his beloved Tadashi, price isn't an issue.

"Ew, its eyes are staring at us!" the younger of two children of the family sitting on the other bench squeaks. Her index finger is pointing at the family's sashimi boat.

The girl's mother chides her, "Don't look at them! Just eat."

Inwardly, Tsukishima can't help but pity the little girl; it's no wonder the cook's artistry in preserving the fish's head in its original shape with its coin-sized black eyes spewing silent curses at the eaters doesn't sit well with children. Thankfully, Yamaguchi doesn't have such an issue—or, at least, no such issue occurred up to their high school years. Tsukishima has to observe Yamaguchi now for a more up-to-date result.

"What fish is that?" Yamaguchi asks the cook standing nearest to him.

"Akayagara, sir. The family over there is having its sashimi version, but you'll have it braised."

Tsukishima anticipates Yamaguchi's parted lips to express concerns about the fish's eyes, but instead hears, "What a unique shape! At first, I thought it was a French baguette, then a grilled eel, but its color doesn't exactly match either of them."

Thank goodness Tadashi isn't bothered by those humongous eyes, Tsukishima thinks. It stands to reason people give the fish a name that means "red arrow shaft" based on its shape and color.

"True, sir, but the fish's most unique feature lies somewhere else." The cook points at the fish's rear. "See that long, whip-like thing sprouting from its tail?"

Tsukishima is wondering why the fish's unique tail hasn't been incorporated into its name instead when another cook places the next dish before him.

Afterward, it's hard to choose which one is the best: the crispy fried soft-shelled crab, the broiled king prawn split into halves and topped with a thick buttery sauce, or the spear squid marinated in its own entrails. The most unexpected, however, is the mollusk from the conch shell prepared by the senior cook which turns out to be their last menu item. Shape-wise, it looks like a giant scallop that needs to be cut up instead of eaten whole.

After they have their fill of all the excellent seafood dishes Okinawan cuisine can offer, Yamaguchi is quick to agree when Tsukishima suggests that they walk to their hotel instead of riding in a taxi, especially since their bellies are on the verge of exploding from binge eating. With every step they take, the gap lessens between the two men, but the silence stretches further.

The wind picks up speed, eliciting shivers from Yamaguchi even though he has zipped up his jacket.

"I'll get us a taxi via a booking app," Tsukishima remarks. The cold doesn't affect him as much, thanks to his thermal wear.

"No need, Tsukki. If we'll have to wait until the car arrives, we might as well walk."

Barely a minute passes when another gust of wind coerces Yamaguchi to slip his hands inside his pockets. The poor man probably can barely feel his fingers in this cold.

"We can take a short break, so you can search for your gloves in your bag," Tsukishima offers.

Yamaguchi shakes his head. "I forgot to bring any."

"Lend me your hands."

Bringing Yamaguchi's hands in front of his mouth, Tsukishima blows, warming the shorter man's fingertips with his breath.

Yamaguchi's cheeks color, but he steels himself to speak what has been weighing on his mind. "What you showed me earlier, at the bottom of the sea, was a sight to behold…" His words are punctuated by a sharp intake of breath before he continues, "…but suppose our feelings are mutual, what do you expect from me? A long-distance relationship via calls and chats until either or both of us can't take it anymore and cheats with locally available options? Or am I just a fling to pass time during your vacation?"

"You aren't just a fling! For the last seven years, I have tried in vain to forget you. The more I was determined to banish you from my mind and bury myself in work, the emptier my life became. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and flew here." The more Tsukishima speaks, the less confident he sounds. No longer does he look like a successful entrepreneur with promising potential, but the survivor of a catastrophe clinging for dear life. The next words he emanates are barely above a whisper: "Tadashi, will you accept me?"

Yamaguchi doesn't—maybe can't—say anything. He only nods, a quick dip of his chin as his arms squeeze around Tsukishima's shoulders. His breath quickens. At the very least, he doesn't mind Tsukishima's overfamiliarity by calling his given name without preamble. He blinks once, and then lets Tsukishima's lips find their way to his own.

When Tsukishima caresses Yamaguchi's jawline, the shorter man lets out a sweet, trembling sigh. He bares his perfectly kissable throat as he arches his back so needily. Designer clothes be damned! Tsukishima wants to peel them off his chest right now and do the same to Yamaguchi so that he can palm his partner's sculpted pecs and feel how the bare skin heaves against his hand.

Reaching forward, Yamaguchi clasps the back of Tsukishima's neck, zealous fingers twining themselves in the silken hair right above his partner's collar.

Tsukishima murmurs as he sips another breath before his mouth sinks into the muscle over the racing pulse of Yamaguchi's neck, beating loudly against his parted lips. "I've fallen for you … for a long time."

"Since when?" Yamaguchi asks, a fractured little breath puffing hot over his mouth before he kisses back with intent, his lips moving against Tsukishima's in a surprisingly demanding way.

"The second year of middle school is when I first realized I saw you as more than just a best friend," Tsukishima whispers in-between their torrid kisses. "I didn't have the guts to ask you out until we were high school freshmen, though."

The amber of Yamaguchi's brown eyes flickers with bewilderment. "We used to be boyfriends?"

As soon as the taller man nods, Yamaguchi's fingers squeeze Tsukishima's coat. "But then you had to study abroad as soon as we graduated from high school?"

"Only because our parents found out that we had sex and did what they could to separate us. They hoped to steer us back to what they considered the right path." Tsukishima withdraws from the kiss completely until his face is in Yamaguchi's focus. "I was too helpless to fight back then, but there has never been a day I stop thinking about the what-ifs. If only we made our families disown us back then, we probably never would have graduated from uni. We would have had no choice but to find jobs right away, but at least we could have lived together. Our toothbrushes would stand next to each other at the bathroom sink … we'd probably wear each other's clothes a lot even though our sizes don't match … you'd be the first person I see the moment I wake up and the last person I see whenever I go to bed…"

Tsukishima stops talking. He lifts his glasses with one hand and wipes away tears with the other.

Yamaguchi is watching him without saying a word, his whole being seemingly frozen under the avalanche of shock.

Dare Tsukishima hope his sincerity has gotten across to his love interest?

Tsukishima finally breaks the silence. "I have prepared these past years to protect our future. There's a path for us now; will you tread it with me?"

Yamaguchi's fingers clench the straps of his backpack. "I will, Tsukki. I will."

This time, Yamaguchi doesn't wait for Tsukishima to kiss him. He takes the initiative, capturing Tsukishima's lips and kissing him for all he's worth, while swallowing Tsukishima's surprised exhale and giving back a happy sigh. Tsukishima savors that kiss, absorbs it, and needs it in order to live a life that consists of more than merely staying alive. Yamaguchi is his heart, his soul, the one entity in the world that matters.

It takes but a moment until Tsukishima is pressing himself against his lover, chest to chest. He cups Yamaguchi's face gently as he tilts his head further to the side, reciprocating the kiss just as eagerly. He fills Yamaguchi's mouth, his tongue stroking the most sensitive spots and retreating only to return. Then his brain stops thinking as his mouth slants over Yamaguchi's again. Tsukishima tangles his fingers in his partner's hair, adding further to its dishevelment as he deepens their kiss. When they separate, their breath mist in front of them, and their clothes stir in the nocturnal wind.

Tsukishima keeps his right glove, but puts his left one on Yamaguchi's left hand, and holds Yamaguchi's right hand in his left one. They walk hand-in-hand for the rest of the journey, and Tsukishima can't be sure his feet are staying on the ground. Strolling together with his boyfriend like this gives him a wondrous elation akin to what he imagines floating in mid-air would feel like. He swears that even the pebbles and dirt on the streets sparkle.

Tsukishima lets go of Yamaguchi's hand only after the hotel receptionist hands the registration form to him. While waiting for Tsukishima to fill it in, Yamaguchi glances around.

Set in a two-story colonial structure amid lush gardens fronting a wide stretch of powdery white sand with mesmerizing views of the sea, the hotel stands on the isle's southern shoreline. Albeit austere, the thirty-room hotel retreat exudes an old charm that pairs modern amenities with traditional features. Guest quarters and communal spaces are furnished in harmony with the post-World War II setting.

Yamaguchi's gaze drifts over to the diving timetable on the chalk-scribbled standing blackboard at the corner and realization dawns upon Tsukishima, Yamaguchi is nervous about rooming with him. Is he worried in case the night will lead them to an activity that involves lube and condoms instead of snores?

Since the building's overall interior has been designed to reflect its history as a wartime garrison, their room leaves a Spartan impression. Even so, it is designed in a comforting palette of muted browns and creams while paying restrained homage to minimalist style. He can't tell whether Yamaguchi is relieved or dismayed at the sight of the nightstand separating their two single beds. While his mind is waging war between every excuse in the book to combine those beds and every propriety for not scaring his newly acquired boyfriend, his smartphone rings.

Herr Kuhn, the second-in-command in Tsukishima's company, informs him of a pipe disaster that has flooded several printers, computers, laminators, cutting machines, and cardboard materials to the point of damage beyond repair. There's no way to keep up with the clients' deadlines and his employees are panicking. The news devastates him so badly that he can no longer stand up halfway through the conversation. His knees are unable to support him, and he collapses as feeble as a pyramid of flimsy cards.

"Tsukki, what's wrong?" Yamaguchi asks after Tsukishima ends the call.

Tsukishima's jaw clenches and unclenches. With a repressed sigh and his eyes seeking forgiveness in Yamaguchi's, he declares, "I have to cancel our plans and go back to Ostend. I'll take the earliest boat to Tokyo and catch a taxi to Haneda first thing in the morning. I'm sorry; my company's facing a crisis."

"What sort of crisis? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Thanks for your concern, but I have to do this on my own. A broken pipe flooded the workshop overnight. The heavy machinery and most of the materials were soaked by the time a janitor found it in the morning."

"So, you need to purchase new machines and materials as well as supervise your staff to adjust the settings for the new devices," Yamaguchi guesses. "How … uh, how far behind schedule will your company be?"

"Gravely. Some of my customers have upcoming events where the packaging with their brands will be indispensable. Even those without specific marketing deadlines, customers can be unforgiving and search for packaging alternatives."

Yamaguchi briefly bites the insides of his mouth, and then encourages Tsukishima as best as he can. "Go. You can do it. Just give me a call or text if you need anything."

Tsukishima apologizes once again and promises he'll revisit Yamaguchi as soon as things settle down in Ostend. Then he snatches his bags and disappears through the door.

---

Chapter 10

As much as Yamaguchi longs to contact Tsukishima and ask how his boyfriend is faring, he fears he'll disturb the businessman instead. It isn't until eleven days later that he receives a LINE chat from his long-distance boyfriend.

Yamaguchi wastes no time in probing for the details of Tsukishima's company situation, but his boyfriend only tells him, "I assure you: you didn't miss anything important."

"Nothing that concerns you is unimportant to me, Tsukki," he insists.

Eventually, Tsukishima relents and informs him of the many apologies he has had to make to his customers and their various reactions. Only a few were willing to tolerate the delayed delivery of their orders while others demanded compensations. For the ones with more urgent launch dates, Tsukishima arranged the alternatives of plain cardboard boxes attached with stickers printed digitally. The steeper production cost was the price he had to pay to obtain returning customers.

Yamaguchi replies with a sticker of an open-armed teddy bear and says, "I wish I could give you a hug."

To which Tsukishima responds, "I can't get your hug, but I do want to hear your voice."

The video call doesn't last long since Tsukishima has to get back to work. Yamaguchi itches to ask when Tsukishima will be back in Japan but holds his tongue as soon as he notices that his boyfriend has lost weight. There are bags of exhaustion that seem to have attached themselves under Tsukishima's eyes that were not there before.

Instead, he says, "It's strange, but right now I feel you're closer to me than ever before."

"There's no distance that our love can't conquer, huh?" a ripple of laughter breaks from Tsukishima's lips.

Yamaguchi tells his boyfriend to take care of his health before Tsukishima hangs up. Then Yamaguchi sighs. A flicker of pain pierces his chest at the thought of how hard it must have been for Tsukishima to endure his family's disapproval by himself all those years. A visit to Yamaguchi's family home the previous week has given him a taste of that hardship.

###

Yamaguchi pointed at the picture of Tsukishima among his classmates in the Karasuno High School catalog. "Mom, why doesn't this guy appear elsewhere? He's supposed to be one of my volleyball teammates, right? How come there aren't any photos of him during school trips or matches?"

His mother's eyes widened with shock. Her lips quivered, as though trying to contain a thousand warnings.

"Mom?"

With the same smile she normally used while rejecting door-to-door salesmen, she said, "Because the two of you fell out. You were so furious with him that you tore up each and every photo of him in this house … except for that one, apparently."

"What made me so angry with him?"

"He stole your girlfriend. This one over here." She pointed at a pretty girl with braided hair among Yamaguchi's classmates. "Later, you found out that he didn't love her, but did that only to spite you."

"But why would he do that … unless he was jealous of my success or—"

"That's precisely it!" his mother interrupted. "He believed he was better than you at volleyball, but you were the one selected as the team captain."

The story didn't make any sense; none of Tsukishima's behavior indicated he was such a petty type. "There are others who are better than me; I've been told some of the Karasuno alumni made it to the Olympics. Besides, kids tend to bully their love interests… Couldn't this mean he liked me instead?"

"NO!" His mother snapped. Then she groaned, "I thought your amnesia wiped away any traces of him from your life … why must you ask about him now?"

Stunned, Yamaguchi fell into silence; his mother had never been this hysterical in the past five years.

"Mom, are you alright? I heard shouts." Hiroshi stormed in without knocking at the door.

"It's okay," Yamaguchi assured his little brother.

Hiroshi's gaze drifted from the school catalog in his elder brother's hand to his mother's livid expression, and comprehension dawned on him. "Oh. So, he has returned, huh?"

"Tell me about him," Yamaguchi asked his brother.

"You claimed to be besties with him, but everyone knew you were his gopher."

Yamaguchi shook his head. "But he never treats me that way nowadays."

With a snicker, Hiroshi replied, "Probably because he's after your body. Like when—"

"Hiroshi!" their mother cut him off, a glare in her usually gentle eyes.

"What did Tsukishima Kei ever do to you, mom?"

"Never mention that filthy name again!" his mother hissed before dragging Hiroshi with her and slamming the door closed.

#####

After dinner, Yamaguchi tried his luck asking his father the same question.

His head buried behind the newspaper, the older man answered, unaware of his wife's shaking head, "Wasn't that boy caught red-handed while distributing drugs? He went to prison for a while then studied overseas to hide his family's shame."

"That's not what mom said," Yamaguchi intoned.

The gray-haired man put down the newspaper he was reading with a loud whump. One look at his paling wife, he guessed what was going on. Without so much as a rising intonation, the sharpness of the middle-aged man's tone sliced like a knife. "So what? That brat's bad news all the same."

"What do you mean, dad?"

"He is not a good influence on you."

"Does this have anything to do with why Tsukishima's photos have disappeared?"

"If you must know," the older man huffed, "I had a professional remove any trace of him from your digital data. Your mother took away all the photos from your albums."

Fury swirled inside Yamaguchi's head, making the furniture in the living room spin inside his head like a merry-go-round. The idea of strangling his parents didn't seem bad either. But he still had more questions to ask, starting with, "When did this happen?"

"During your hospitalization after the accident."

Yamaguchi wished his ears were playing tricks on him. Five years ago, he had awakened at the hospital afraid and confused, not remembering a single thing about his own identity. And yet, the people he had placed his trust in—the ones the doctor told him to be his parents—had kept him from the truth all these years. Judging by his mother's reaction when his brother was about to spill the beans that afternoon as well as Shimada's hesitation, it wouldn't be far-fetched to suspect that his parents had warned his friends and relatives not to mention Tsukishima in front of Yamaguchi.

How could they!

"Now isn't the time to talk about the past," his mother urged. "Tadashi, what's more important is you need to straighten your path. Never get in touch again with that … that … scum!"

A part of Yamaguchi wanted to yell and curse, to convince his family of how much he wanted to be with Tsukishima but they'd kept him from his true love; the months he'd spent with his ex-girlfriends never made him feel even half as real as the last few days he'd spent with Tsukishima. However, instinct took over, even if his memory had no recollection of it. As the captain of the Karasuno volleyball team in his final year, he knew how to face his elders, knew how to assume the responsibility for his team members' wrongdoing as well as how to keep the adults from inflicting too severe punishments on the younger members of his team. In such circumstances, loud volume and wrathful expression wouldn't get his point across.

Thus, in both cold and calm demeanor, he delivered his answer, "I refuse."

Meanwhile, a voice inside Yamaguchi screamed, Are you sure you're making the right choice? Romantic relationships can be broken; blood ties cannot. You've known these people for the past five years, but you only met Tsukki a few weeks ago. Even if your own parents covered facts with falsehood, what guarantees that the stuff Tsukki told you isn't fabricated lies too?

His father hissed, expression growing sterner with every syllable, "Tadashi, your mother and I didn't raise you to become the trash of society."

It took all of Yamaguchi's courage to convince himself not to flinch. Even if my family condemns us as wrongdoers, I'll bear whatever offence that I must. "How could loving someone be considered a crime?"

"You have proven yourself capable of dating women like a normal man. There's no reason that should change now. No reason at all, you hear me?!" His father banged the table, his tone rising for the first time that night. "You're no longer our son if you choose that lifestyle!"

"I'd rather be with him than with a bunch of people who have been lying to me." Yamaguchi's fists clenched. I'm my own person and I'll be the one determining what my life should be.

His mother shrieked, "After everything we've endured … working hard to raise you properly… This is how you repay us?"

Although Yamaguchi didn't remember life before his university years, strangers on the streets had shown him how exhausting it could be for mothers to take care of their little kids. The people in this house helped him while he was recuperating in a wheelchair after the accident. His hospital bills were not to be slighted either. Even so, didn't the way his parents word their points sound like he was no more than a failed investment to them?

"I'm thankful for those, but I can't forgive you either," Yamaguchi confirmed through gritted teeth.

In unison, his father shouted, "You ingrate!" while his mother hollered, "I should have never given birth to a good-for-nothing son like you!"

#####

As if the argument with his parents hadn't been enough, his brother was waiting for him in the front yard. Hiroshi leaned against a pillar, arms folded across his chest. "I should have seen it coming – that you'd rush to his side, just like old times."

Yamaguchi halted on his way to the gate. "You mean this happened before? Did I try to elope with him or something?"

"Nope. You went quiet when mom and dad found out about your boyfriend and chewed you up. All I'm saying is your infatuation for him had been going for ages, even before you started dating."

Yamaguchi squinted. "How do you know that?"

"Back when I was hospitalized from typhoid fever in my second year of middle school, I used your old notebooks to catch up with school lessons. It didn't take a genius to realize the doodles of the dude with glasses every few pages in the corners of your books were all Tsukishima."

Yamaguchi tried to assess the situation. The possibility couldn't be called promising, but at least it wasn't zero either. "Does this mean … you were okay with me dating him?"

Hiroshi rolled his eyes. "Hardly. I still can't forget about the nightmares you guys put me through."

"What nightmares?"

"His dick in your ass. It was enough to give a fourteen-year-old nightmares for years to come. I can never look at dudes the same way again thanks to that."

Yamaguchi's throat constricted. He couldn't grasp why Tsukishima or himself would specifically want to have sex in front of Hiroshi. At his skepticism, his brother added, "I didn't knock on the bedroom door you forgot to lock. Still…"

Hiroshi was twenty-one now. To think that he had striven in vain to disremember the view from middle school to college, the experience must have been traumatic beyond conception. Yamaguchi's chest tightened, his heart filled with a regret that eluded all description.

"Hiroshi," Yamaguchi said, his tone firm as he bowed in an apologetic saikeirei bow. "I can't erase the past. The trauma I unintentionally gave you is my failure as your big brother. But let me make it up to you. If you ever find yourself in trouble, I'll do everything I can to help you."

His brother shrugged. "Go. Make sure you don't regret your choice."

###

Yamaguchi sighs again. That his family is so against his choice of partner that they no longer even want him to be part of them is one depressing fact. Wanting to escape from this reality, he diverts his thoughts to happier memories instead. The most joyful thing to happen to him in the last five years is inarguably Tsukishima.

###

Their moment together at the beach replays in his mind. Even though that was the first time Tsukishima had addressed Yamaguchi by his given name, there was something about the timbre in Tsukishima's voice that felt wondrously familiar and it made his heart swell and ache in the same breath.

What Tsukishima told him at the beach about their past took Yamaguchi by surprise; but more than that, Tsukishima's devotion, his earnestness, and the resolve in his voice when he spoke of it, all denoted that his very sentiment rang true. Yamaguchi has never known the kind of unwavering affinity he sees in Tsukishima's eyes, never even thought that anything like it could exist.

Then there was the sensation of his boyfriend's kiss which was, to say the least, otherworldly. The moment Tsukishima's lips found his, the world turned into a place where circumstances no longer mattered. From the very first touch of their lips to the way Tsukishima's grasp on him tightened with ardor, he felt the years of Tsukishima's unspoken love. An earthquake coursed through Yamaguchi's body, making his core shudder from sheer pleasure. While the techniques themselves left nothing to be desired, the taller man seemed to know with terrifying precision where Yamaguchi wanted to be teased and when soft and hard kisses should be altered. Nobody had ever touched him the way Tsukishima had. Nobody had ever made him feel so…

…alive.

All the former kisses he had experienced were so safe and controlled, but this kiss leveled him, proving how little he knew of what real love was supposed to be. A tsunami of passion deluged him with wave upon wave of wants and needs. In this man's embrace, he received far more than he had to sacrifice: reassurance he had never known he'd sought, psychological comfort beyond everything he had ever experienced, and—inarguably—pleasure beyond measure.

###

Now the memory of Tsukishima's touches set Yamaguchi alight with desire. The stash of gravure magazines that has been gathering dust in the corner of his closet is the last thing on his mind. After meeting Tsukishima, a switch has been flipped in Yamaguchi's mind causing his mild interest in girls to drop into non-existence.

He wasn't lying when he declared he felt closer to Tsukishima than ever … which, in turn, carries a drawback: his urgent need of a serious dose of cuddles and, well, other stuff, too. The guilt of being aware that Tsukishima is working hard under pressure doesn't prevent Yamaguchi from making his boyfriend his new fapping material. Still, he doesn't want to fantasize about their first time and turn it into an event that undoubtedly will play out differently. It's easier to visualize if he pretends that he and Tsukishima are in circumstances too unlikely to ever come true.

After cleansing himself, Yamaguchi drops his pants and coats his fingers with a dollop of lube.

In his imagination, he's the manager of a rising star, Tsukishima Kei, whose perfect smile adorns the cinematic firmament as well as the hearts of countless fans. Other than the crew working behind the scenes, though, no one knows how sulky and sour-tempered Tsukishima really is. The spoiled actor always gives his manager a pain in the ass both in figurative and literal senses.

One evening, after a meet-and-greet session with his fans, Tsukishima bends Yamaguchi over his dressing table. The dressing table is uncomfortably hard against the manager's stomach, but that doesn't prevent the actor from fucking him there.

"But anyone can come in any second. They'll try the door and call a handyman to fix the lock if it isn't working," the manager pleads with what is left of his resistance, his last excuse as the actor lowers his trousers down his knees. He dreads to imagine what he may look like to Tsukishima with his legs spread wide for him and his ass shamelessly exposed to the actor's wandering eyes.

"Stop worrying about others and concentrate on me … and only me!" His fingers close around Yamaguchi's nipple, pinching hard. He reeks of selfishness and a need for biological relief.

Muffled screams escape Yamaguchi's lips. They aren't supposed to be doing this. His unrequited love for the actor is the only reason he endures being treated as an object of lust. There is a part of him that knows this is wrong, but it feels right in all its wrongness. So much heat, inside, all over. His cock is painfully hard and his belly is a furnace of coiling pleasure. He can't get enough of the obscene sound of Tsukishima's balls slapping against his own with each harsh thrust. So much pleasure races through Yamaguchi's veins that his skin is aflame with it. His body aches with so much need that he wants to claw his way out of his own skin just so he can have a moment's respite.

Except that he does not want this to end.

Under the blaring mirror lights, Tsukishima's sweat rains over his back, and Tsukishima's cock impales him from behind. A part of Yamaguchi wants to stop him, to demand better treatment than being used as an expendable tool for sexual gratification, but the rest of him wants nothing more than to savor the moment. Tsukishima's thrusts feel so damn good that it becomes inevitable for Yamaguchi to roll his hips to take him deeper.

Yamaguchi strokes himself with one hand while the other takes care of his ass at the very thought of Tsukishima sinking deeper into him. He tries to keep his voice down, but between the sensations of Tsukishima's labored breathing against his nape and the fullness of Tsukishima's searing-hot cock inside him, it is too much to stay silent. The sounds slip out from his mouth, gasps and moans alike, and there isn't a damn thing he can do about it.

In his mind, he hears Tsukishima's voice in response—a soft curse, muttered under his breath, low and rough. He can't quite make out the word, his eardrums too distracted by the cacophony of their heartbeats. Tsukishima shoves him even lower onto the table, a hand upon the nape of his neck to hold him down. He quickens his thrusts. His cock hits the spot inside Yamaguchi that makes him scream over and over. The world fades out. Tsukishima fills his awareness completely, leaving no room for anything else.

Tsukishima's hand forms a tight fist around Yamaguchi's hair and pulls. There is nothing but dominance in his tone when he demands, "Come."

The imaginary voice sends a warm tingle down Yamaguchi's spine. His shaking hand strokes his arousal faster. His head is thrown back to ghost lips skimming over his pulse point. His body arches up towards nonexistent touches. His hand moves as he jerks himself off nearly as an afterthought of pleasure. Biting down on his sweatshirt, he muffles the louder moans he so dearly wishes to give.

When he comes, it's with the bitter taste in his mouth reminding him that his hand is his own. The shudders trailing down his spine weren't caused by anything other than someone who has never done and probably will never do any of those movements things to him.

---

Chapter 11

After three weeks of struggling with bank loans, new machinery setting supervision, negotiating with the insurance company, and apologizing to clients for the manufacturer delay, Tsukishima finally manages to find the time to return to Japan. Although Yamaguchi had offered to meet him up at the airport when he told his boyfriend about his upcoming arrival, Tsukishima knew better than to sacrifice the part-timer's working hours and transportation fees just to meet him a couple of hours sooner. Other than a phone call on his way to the airport from a hellish client, who insisted on special treatment while trying to squeeze as much discount as possible from him, today's journey has gone without a hitch.

And now here he is, standing in front of Yamaguchi's apartment door. He knocks three times and waits until it opens. The wooden slab swings outward to reveal his boyfriend in the doorframe, a smile crinkling his eyes as he greets, "Tsukki."

Tsukishima can't help but bask in the feeling of what it means to be complete again. His teenage self would have scoffed if he saw anyone hug after a mere three weeks of separation, but his present self appreciates Yamaguchi's patience―providing moral support for him without demanding a single thing in return―for three long weeks means everything to him. He pulls Yamaguchi into an embrace right after he closes the door behind them.

Yamaguchi grins and pats Tsukishima's back as he returns the embrace. "Whoa, Tsukki … you're far more affectionate than you look."

Tsukishima's glance travels over Yamaguchi's shoulder. He seems to be interrupting his host in the middle of dinner. On the low table in the middle of the small one-room apartment is a lone bowl of half-finished rice topped with seaweed simmered in soy sauce and mirin.

"With the number of part-time jobs you've been working, shouldn't you be able to afford more than tsukudanifor dinner?"

"Well, my old laptop broke down about two weeks before I got laid off—that's eight more months of installments to pay for the new laptop. All my part-time jobs "Well, my old laptop broke down about two weeks before I got laid off—I still have eight more months of installments to pay off. All my part-time jobs combined still can't pay for the monthly bills and the laptop credit even without me not buying new clothes. So, lowering the grocery expense it was."

Tsukishima squints. The number of hours of all Yamaguchi's part-time jobs should allow him to earn nearly four hundred thousand yen per month. The monthly rental for his apartment, along with the utility bills, should cost a little more than a hundred thousand yen. The price tag for the laptop he owns should be under seventy thousand, and if that comes with twelve-month installments, shouldn't Yamaguchi have plenty to spare?

Seeing Tsukishima's skepticism, Yamaguchi scrambles to rummage through his cupboard. He pulls a bank passbook and presents it to Tsukishima. "I've been trying to save some money for—well, this won't count as a significant amount in your business, but I hope to ease your burden even just a little. This should at least cover your food, transport, and accommodation during your stay in Japan."

How can you be so selfless? And just how much are you in love with me?

Tsukishima holds Yamaguchi's hands in his. "Tadashi, eat. And you must promise me to eat nutritious food from now on. No more saving for me."

"But—"

"Don't underestimate the dangers caused by malnutrition!"

"You worry too much. I still eat three meals a day, and they're not always tsukudani, mind you."

Taking off his shoes, Tsukishima approaches Yamaguchi's cupboard in five strides. The opened cupboard reveals a meager selection of instant noodles and seasoned dry furikakesprinkles.

Tsukishima growls, "Are you saying that all these preservatives and additives are good for your health?"

"A-anyway, I've never gotten anemia." Despite his defensive tone, Yamaguchi's voice sounds timid.

"For now. But in the next decade or two? And what about other serious health issues like eye problems, diabetes or heart disease?"

Yamaguchi opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get a word out, Tsukishima sighs. "Is it so wrong for a man to yearn for the one he loves to live a long, healthy life beside him instead of in a sickbed?"

Yamaguchi makes no attempt to argue this time. He just stands there with his shoulders slumped, looking like a misbehaved little boy bracing himself against punishment from a stern teacher.

Tsukishima softens his gaze. "Tadashi." He reaches for his boyfriend's cheek and caresses it as tenderly as his fingers allow, hoping the gesture conveys his feelings better than his words can. "A future without you isn't a future I could bear. Not now that I have you again."

"That sounds like—" Yamaguchi stops himself, either not trusting his own ears or doubting the way his brain is thinking.

"I'll order some takeaway dishes of meat and veggies. Be sure to eat them," Tsukishima pleads.

"What about you?"

"I can't take another bite after those airport cafe and in-flight meals."

Yamaguchi complies. He asks about the factory disaster in greater detail and Tsukishima explains while he finishes his bowl of tsukudani over rice. The food delivery arrives a few minutes later, and Tsukishima tells him more about Ostend until all the dishes are cleared.

Tsukishima opens his suitcase while Yamaguchi cleans the empty food boxes from the table. He hands his boyfriend a fridge magnet, a tea towel, a mug, and a bottle of liquor. "I brought you some souvenirs."

"You shouldn't have, but thanks. I've never seen any of these." Yamaguchi beams as he accepts the gifts.

"Is this gin?" He points at the water-like liquid inside the transparent bottle after placing the magnet on the fridge door and the tea towel by the kitchen sink.

"Jenever. It's the juniper-flavored traditional gin from where I live."

"Juniper, huh? I wonder how it tastes. Let's drink this together."

For a moment, Tsukishima is tempted to take up that offer. But he knows better than to trust alcohol to loosen himself and he doesn't want to screw up. "It's getting late and you probably have an early start tomorrow."

"You've just arrived and now you're leaving?" Yamaguchi's expression looks unpretentiously crestfallen, no doubt he was hoping that Tsukishima would stay with him.

"I'd rather not overstay my welcome. There's a business hotel close by―"

"Stay here tonight?" Yamaguchi interrupts. At the stunned look on Tsukishima's face, he appends, "I mean, my place isn't much and I have only one futon, but…" He casts a nervous glance at Tsukishima. The moment their eyes meet, he averts them, blush coloring his cheeks.

Tsukishima realizes his teenage self wouldn't waste the opportunity to tease his boyfriend, but his present self is wise enough to appreciate the gesture. "In that case, I'd love to accept your kind offer. I've been missing our sleepovers for ages anyway."

That isn't a lie. Tsukishima misses how, as little boys, they used to play dinosaur battles with the figurines in Tsukishima's collection. He relishes the feeling of making idle conversations with Yamaguchi in their teenage years. The nostalgic memories gallop in his mind as they change into sleepwear.

It isn't until they finish brushing their teeth and changing into sweatshirts and sweatpants that Yamaguchi asserts, "Tsukki, I owe you an apology."

"Why?"

"Earlier this month, I visited my family and rechecked the photo albums. It still didn't make any sense why it was only you who was missing when the rest of my volleyball teammates were there with me during matches, victory celebrations, school trips, and all other events. The only pictures of you that I could find are in the school catalog … like we'd never been anything more than classmates. So, I asked my parents…" Yamaguchi's voice trails off.

Yamaguchi clenches his fists, unclenches them, and clenches them again before continuing, "At first, they didn't want to tell me, but finally I found out that while I was hospitalized after the traffic accident that took my memory, dad hired a hacker to delete every bit of data related to you from my cloud storage and mom removed all of your photos from our albums. My parents also asked everyone they knew of to never remind me of you. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Tadashi's family hates me that much? Now it makes sense why nobody's given me any news about him in the past five years. It takes a while for Tsukishima's brain to recover from the shock before he can gather his thoughts and reply, "It's not your fault. You were—"

"I lived my life in ignorance, unaware of your existence. You endured it all alone. You even returned to me after all these years!" Yamaguchi insists.

"Look, you make it sound like I'm so saintly. I'm not. I did try to move on when I assumed you had grown tired of our long-distance relationship. There were times that I thought I might be able to get over my feelings for you, but as it turns out … you're the only one I cannot live without."

Yamaguchi cradles Tsukishima's face. "Then we shouldn't live in the past anymore. Not when we can pave a new road going forward. Though … are you okay with me as a boyfriend? I mean, anyone can see you're completely out of my league."

"They're wrong. It's the other way around. I can never be the kind, attentive, and caring person you are. I've grown to love you more with each passing second."

"But there are many things that you can do that I can't either."

"Which is why we complete each other," Tsukishima concludes.

A shy smile graces Yamaguchi's lips. "Hey, Tsukki, how did we end up as boyfriends in high school?" At Tsukishima's awkward silence, Yamaguchi quickly adds, "It's alright if you don't want to talk about it."

It takes no genius to realize that the longing in Yamaguchi's eyes belies his words. Tsukishima's heart feels tight, as if it is being squeezed by the amount of concern Yamaguchi harbors for him. Trying to sound as calm and collected as possible, he adjusts his glasses and says, "That's a fair question."

I was—well, I chickened out about confessing my feelings back then. One day after school, I was waiting for you to finish your turn for cleaning duty so that we could go home together, but you took longer than usual. When I went to see what was keeping you, I saw a girl handing you a love letter in the otherwise empty classroom and I…"

Tsukishima takes a deep breath, painfully aware of how Yamaguchi anticipatorily eyes, but he seems to be refraining from pressing Tsukishima with any verbal demand for the continuation.

"I felt as though my head was being hacked by an invisible bludgeon." Tsukishima clenches his fists. "It was only then that I started to realize if that was how it felt each time someone was interested in your love interest, how much did you endure whenever a girl confessed to me?"

Yamaguchi looks at him with concerned, but still doesn't interrupt so Tsukishima continues, "But then, there was no guarantee that you felt the same. Also, you could have wanted a girlfriend for experience's sake. Anyway, I was seriously thinking of stepping in until I heard what you said to her."

A lucid worry paints Yamaguchi's expression as he asks, "What did I say?"

"You began by consoling her, telling her that you understood her feelings because you'd had a one-sided love for years. Then you said you were sorry you couldn't accept her feelings because you still couldn't give up on your feelings for the other person either."

Noticing Yamaguchi bite the insides of his bottom lip, Tsukishima's heart begins hammering in his chest.

"The chance that you might one day slip away from me … I knew I couldn't hold on much longer. That evening, I suggested a little detour on our way home so that we passed the playground where we first met in fourth grade. An Apatosaurus-shaped slide was added in later years when we were both too old to use it, so I kept it to myself that I actually wanted to try it. Anyway, the dinosaur's belly was a hollow dome designed for children's hide-and-seek and I dragged you there. I … kissed you there."

Yamaguchi's eyes widen momentarily before his face morphs into a dreamy expression and a soft sigh bursts through his lips. "I wish I could remember our first kiss."

Just as Tsukishima opens his mouth to answer, Yamaguchi gasps, his cheeks coloring with a dust of scarlet. "Whoa, forget I ever said that!"

"It was nothing sophisticated. We were both first-timers with no clue about the angles of our heads, so our noses bumped, and our teeth clacked against each other's," Tsukishima responds with the calmest tone he can muster while trying his best not to get flustered at the memory. Back in their first year of high school, they had pressed their lips together with all the eager haste that comes with absolute inexperience. There was only so much that books and movies could teach, and it was plain to see from the way each teenage boy moved that they had no idea what they were supposed to be doing. Even so, Yamaguchi's arms clung to Tsukishima's neck, his body arched up and melded captivatingly to fit the shape of Tsukishima's.

"Wait, you'd never kissed anyone before that? I'd think, with your looks, girls wouldn't have left you alone 'til high school," Yamaguchi comments with undisguised incredulity.

"Yeah, you pretty much said something similar back then too. So, I reminded you that I was stuck with you from dawn 'till dusk seven days a week … which was why it would have been impossible for me to sneak a date or two into my schedule without you knowing it."

Yamaguchi lets out a breath he doesn't seem to realize he has been holding.

"All this talk about kissing makes me want to kiss you right now," Tsukishima mumbles.

Yamaguchi throws his arms around Tsukishima's shoulders. "What's stopping you?"

Tsukishima sees a flash of a grin on Yamaguchi's face before his vision goes out of focus as he gently parts Yamaguchi's lips with his own. He keeps their contact soft, feather-light, drawing it out. Still, he shudders, shivering under Yamaguchi's touch like the other man's mouth is scalding him. Kissing Yamaguchi had always been an addiction; now that the familiar sensation rushes back, Tsukishima detests every second he has to spend gasping for air.

"Tsukki, although I can't remember it, I've got a hunch you were the entirety of my world, just as you are now," Yamaguchi wheezes, a trail of saliva still connecting their mouths.

Tsukishima's brain doesn't seem able to reboot and react properly. Then something within him snaps. Promptly reclaiming Yamaguchi's lips, he kisses the man he has been missing for years with everything he has, and his sentiment is reciprocated. He is drowned in pleasure when Yamaguchi's tongue slides against his own deep in his mouth.

He feels Yamaguchi's hand moving along his jawline, tilting it, and then his brain shuts down for a moment because the love of his life is kissing him back with equal—if not more—passion. He relishes in the press of Yamaguchi's body against him, all heat and hardness and force together. He faintly perceives the vibration of what may be a moan at the back of Yamaguchi's throat. His pulse is pounding in his ears. It is still surreal no matter how many times he has experienced kissing or being kissed by Yamaguchi; everything around him seems worlds away.

Although Tsukishima's brain is telling him no, that this is too soon, his body is melting into Yamaguchi. Suddenly, Yamaguchi is closer, or Tsukishima draws himself closer to the other man—he can't tell anymore. All he knows is the seething heat between them, the clothes obstructing his way to touch Yamaguchi's bare skin, and that the air is nowhere near enough to breathe. He yearns to cover his beloved in mark after mark and meld their two bodies into one; the tightness in his pants is proof enough of that.

With the last smidgen of self-restraint, Tsukishima draws back, both hands securing Yamaguchi's shoulders an arm's-length from him. "Tadashi, if this continues, I won't be able to hold back."

Yamaguchi slips from his grasp, only to bring himself closer to Tsukishima. "Perfect! I don't want you to hold back. No more delay, Tsukki; I've been waiting three weeks for this," he whispers, letting his lips brush against Tsukishima's ear, and the taller man can't suppress his shiver.

"I've been waiting for this for seven years," Tsukishima banters. "We may have had sex in high school, but you had known me for a long time then. Now, though, you've only known me for less than a month and we've only been together for a week of that time. Maybe you should consider your parents' wish and—"

"Tsukki," Yamaguchi cuts him off. "I'm not gonna let my parents or anyone else rewrite my life for me. True, I don't know what you've been through, what the horror that tore us apart felt like, what the reactions from people around us were… Maybe right now I'm no different than a child playing with fire without knowing it can burn, but I'm asking you not to deny me the chance to experience it."

Tsukishima's throat feels dry. His mouth opens to articulate his reply, but not a single syllable comes out.

"I'm not gonna leave you alone to suffer all the consequences this time. I love you … I'm so in love with you!" Yamaguchi asserts as he shifts closer, invading Tsukishima's personal space with intimate movements that Tsukishima knows he won't be able to get enough of.

With his lover straddling him, Tsukishima feels Yamaguchi's hands travel from one bared shoulder, up the neck, then to his jaw. He plans to ask whether he's giving Yamaguchi any discomfort, but the words die on his tongue along with his reservations as soon as his boyfriend leans in against him and melts them both in one helluva torrid embrace. The whispery moans of pleasure egg Tsukishima on and tug his lips into a triumphant smile as he nuzzles against Yamaguchi's throat, matching taste to a familiar scent. He breathes in the essence of Yamaguchi Tadashi.

In a blur, each man caresses the other in-between peeling off clothes. They exchange deep, intimate kisses that send electrical charges throughout their bodies. A shower of kisses along each other's forehead, cheeks, lips, chin, and the two men find themselves completely naked.

Then Tsukishima leans in again to reclaim Yamaguchi's lips, this time more demanding. He kisses his partner ardently, stealing his breath before he has time to catch it. Yamaguchi gasps into these open-mouth kisses, but soon delves his tongue to explore the inside of Tsukishima's mouth.

"Futon?" Tsukishima suggests as he momentarily breaks their sloppy kiss, making Yamaguchi whines at the pause. They're both breathless and panting, their mouths connected by a trail of saliva.

Yamaguchi either decidedly ignores Tsukishima's suggestion or is in such a daze that he's incapable of comprehending it, going straight for a deeper kiss until the taller man inevitably moans.

In retaliation, Tsukishima engages Yamaguchi in long, lingering kisses as he goads him toward the closet where the futon is stored. He is pushing at his partner, hard enough to be a demand even if it's too gentle to be a shove. It feels awkward, lip-locking while ambling like this, but his tongue craves Yamaguchi's warmth, and his fingers covet Yamaguchi's skin too intensely to let him go for even just a second. For seven long years, he has missed Yamaguchi, and now he takes delight in how his beloved quivers beneath his touches.

Tsukishima continues his ministrations, stroking his abs, down his rib cage, low to his pelvic bone, then the erection between his legs. Esurient fingers trail up the inside of Yamaguchi's legs, caressing them in silent worship. Chapped lips flutter light kisses over the most sensitive areas, dropping in a little bite here and there. Tsukishima pushes Yamaguchi's thighs up, thumbs pressing deep into the soft flesh. When his hands move, the prints remain in stark white before the blood rushes back.

There's something about Yamaguchi that awes Tsukishima. The lamplight bathes his lover's bare skin in a silvery glow. His view is perfect, the arch of his shoulder, the curve of his hips, the defined muscles in his legs formed by years of volley training. Leaning down as he lowers himself to a kneeling position, Tsukishima dips his head and begins to feast upon the apex of Yamaguchi's thighs.

Yamaguchi's bare sex, with its considerable length and generous girth, is a work of art. The moment Tsukishima refreshes his memory of it, he is overcome with the desire to have it in his hands, his mouth, and his ass countless times. The head of Yamaguchi's erection, glistening with pre-come, the skin of his long shaft, the vein that runs beneath, and the balls, heavy between his thighs … they all beckon to him.

"No, wait, it's filthy," Yamaguchi wheezes, voice stretched thin like a rubber band and his body pressed against the closet door.

Tsukishima smirks and spreads him further, bares him into the depths of his soul—fearful and eager at the same time.

Yamaguchi gasps, his torso arching and his chest heaving as Tsukishima takes his length into his mouth, all the way to the root in one, fluid motion. Tsukishima drags his teeth just slightly over Yamaguchi's semi-hard erection as he pulls almost all the way off. Bitter and sharp on Tsukishima's tongue, Yamaguchi tastes like salt, if salt ever had a musky odor. Far more important than the smell and taste is the way the contact makes Yamaguchi's hips come off the closet door, the way Tsukishima can feel that hardened flesh jerk against his tongue.

Incoherent sounds start to spill from Yamaguchi's mouth, and they seem to include pieces of Tsukishima's nickname, along with whimpers, moans, and pleas. A sense of pride swells within Tsukishima. He swirls his tongue before bobbing back down slowly, keeping his tongue pressed against the underside.

Yamaguchi releases a shaky breath, brows knitting together. With a groan of pleasure, he throws himself back, tangling his desperate fingers in Tsukishima's hair, until he realizes a few seconds too late how hard he's tugging those locks.

"Sorry!"

Tsukishima hums in response, the vibration of it finding purchase at Yamaguchi's dickhead and forcing another pulse of pre-come onto Tsukishima's tongue. He looks up at his lover with reverence. The standing man's eyes are alight with passion, cheeks blazing with desire, and lips trembling with want. All because of him.

Tsukishima shivers as he drinks in the view. His mouth tightens around Yamaguchi's erection. Despite the glistening sweat rolling down Yamaguchi's skin, Tsukishima sucks more persistently, his head slamming rhythmically into Yamaguchi's pelvis. His tongue swirls and works wonders. The sound of Yamaguchi's breathing going frantic because of him is enough to create a frisson of shivering response in Tsukishima's veins until he can no longer steady his hands on his lover's skin. He doesn't try to touch himself; his pleasure is Yamaguchi's. In return, Yamaguchi's pleasure belongs to him.

Gingerly, experimentally, Tsukishima plunges a finger into the cleft of Yamaguchi's backside. This elicits a gasp from Yamaguchi. He sees the standing man stiffen and arch his back—Yamaguchi hasn't been accustomed to anyone accessing this part of his body, no doubt—but his shocked expression turns to ecstasy within seconds. It gratifies Tsukishima how with just his longest finger he draws a breathy moan from Yamaguchi. Massaging it in deeper before he slides out, and then back again.

Tsukishima can tell that Yamaguchi's mouth is drying as he works himself into the second knuckle, teasing with the tip of his forefinger. The squelches coupled with the yearning in Yamaguchi's moans are a heady combination. He feels like he's barely started, only just found the right angle to really obtain a pattern to his movements and not yet settled into the pace, when Yamaguchi's body jerks in stuttering motions, his insides clenching tight. This is it. Tsukishima has just rediscovered the spot that turns Yamaguchi's brain into mush.

Slowly, carefully, a second saliva-coated digit joins the first, shallowly still, gradually opening him up. He waits until Yamaguchi's muscles ease up for him before plunging in his two fingers deeper. Rather than simply stretching, he starts thrusting, his movements staid but firm as he explores Yamaguchi's inviting depth further. He alternates his movements between jabbing and scissoring while his mouth doesn't stay idle, squeezing along Yamaguchi's length for what it's worth. Years of office work had trained him to be better at multitasking. He sucks like he has no other purpose in life and, at the same time, his fingers twist inside Yamaguchi's rear with inhuman precision, teasing at that one spot.

Tsukishima begins to knead Yamaguchi soundly, dragging his fingers into his lover with ardor until the debauched, slick sounds of his fingers coming in and out of his partner's body pervades the room. As he watches his fingers vanish into his lover, the blush on Yamaguchi's cheekbones tells him how highly appreciated his ministrations are. Lanced from one side and trapped at the other, more droplets of pre-come cascade down between Yamaguchi's thighs to fuel the persistent fingers seducing him.

"Nghh … Tsukki … ah—" Yamaguchi groans Tsukishima's name in a broken whine, saliva glistening on his lips.

Tadashi, it has been so, so long.

It isn't until Yamaguchi's entire being grows taut that Tsukishima withdraws his fingers from Yamaguchi's quivering body. Without a second delay, Yamaguchi jerks and spasms; he can't hold back the flow of semen released into Tsukishima's mouth.

"Oh crap, Tsukki, I'm so sorry!" Yamaguchi squeaks as soon as he manages to get his throat work again, but his body still hasn't ceased convulsing from his climax.

Tsukishima hears the insecurity in Yamaguchi's words, the lack-of-experience worry lacing his partner's voice. Barely able to contain himself, he swirls his lips lovingly around the head like a prolonged kiss before assuring his lover, "I'd have pulled back if I didn't want to swallow it."

"But it must have been gross!"

"I missed you too much to care about what's gross and what's not. But if it gives you peace of mind, I promise I won't do it again." Then a smirk tugs at his lips. "For tonight, that is."

"Tsukki!"

"I'll grab the lube and condom while you spread the futon, okay?"

Yamaguchi nods and proceeds to open the closet as Tsukishima approaches his travel suitcase.

When Tsukishima returns, his heart almost stops as his gaze zeroes in on a naked Yamaguchi lying on the futon. Pleasure jolts through Tsukishima, coursing through his throat and pooling at the base of his belly.

Unfortunately, the feast for his eyes doesn't last long. Yamaguchi flips his body until he lays flat on his stomach. "On second thought, it's too embarrassing to face you right now, so..."

Appeased with the view of Yamaguchi's bare backside, Tsukishima doesn't protest. Instead, he seizes the opportunity to pepper Yamaguchi's nape with little kisses down to his back. Even while reaching the base of Yamaguchi's spine, Tsukishima doesn't stop. Tenderly, he ghosts his lips along the twin mounds of Yamaguchi's butt.

Tadashi, feel me. Every beat of my heart … every movement of my sinews … every fiber of my being … they're all longing for you.

---

Chapter 12

Yamaguchi's heart hammers in his chest; none of the girls he has slept with so far has ever done that. Maybe it's because he is hypersensitive from climaxing just minutes prior, but his body thrums with electricity wherever Tsukishima touches him. His flaccid cock is even back to its fully erect state. Aware of how heat has crept over his face, he prays that his blush doesn't go all the way up to his ears—unlike his front, those reddened parts would be visible from behind.

Having scoured the internet for gay materials, Yamaguchi expects penetration; and yet, nothing prods his rear entrance even after he hears the ripping sound of a condom foil. With every kiss Tsukishima plants on his back, Yamaguchi's body undulates in anticipation.

A pause, agonizingly long. There's the click of a bottle being uncapped comes in the background, followed by slick, wet sounds as Tsukishima probably coats his first finger in lube. Then a press, slow, careful, as Tsukishima eases his thumb into him. It isn't until he has finished slathering Yamaguchi's entrance with a large dollop of lube that he enters Yamaguchi's private passage with a longer finger.

"Tadashi, I can tell from the hunch of your shoulders that you're tensing up. Relax. It'll hurt less if you do," Tsukishima instructs. Then, more playfully, "And don't even think of biting down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud "

Yamaguchi nods, not trusting himself to speak without turning into a blubbering mess. The teasing Tsukishima's fingers have given him over the past few minutes feels so intensely good that he almost climaxes again. Feeling the shift of his lover's body, Yamaguchi assumes that Tsukishima is aligning his erection with his rear entrance.

The moment Tsukishima slowly sinks into that tight heat, Yamaguchi's back arches and his fingers clench into the sheets while his puckered opening furls and unfurls around Tsukishima's girth. Tsukishima pauses until Yamaguchi breathes deeply, slowly, relaxing into the futon, before continuing to slide to the hilt. The sensation turns Yamaguchi's bones to liquid. Like the rest of his lover's body, Tsukishima's phallic shape is longer than his own. It reaches deep inside Yamaguchi, sliding into the most intimate part of him no one else in living memory has ever delved.

"Ahh…"

Tsukishima takes his time to revel in the feeling of Yamaguchi's tightness around him before gingerly pulling out, as if not wanting to disturb the part of Yamaguchi that has been shaped into the perfect mold for his erect flesh. As soon as he's about to pull out completely, he slams himself back in, earning a moan from Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi falls on to his forearms, his head bowed and panting at every thrust. He spreads his legs wider as Tsukishima begins to pick up speed, cock dripping with more of his own pre-come that streaks between his thighs.

Gradually setting a steady pace, Tsukishima slides in and out of Yamaguchi, slick and deep. He pulls Yamaguchi's hips back against him, sliding in and out of him rhythmically. His movements matching the drawn-out gasps and Yamaguchi's wanton moans, he fucks him slow and thorough. How Yamaguchi wishes that tomorrow would never come!

But then Tsukishima pulls out and flips Yamaguchi until he is lying on his back, fully facing his boyfriend.

"Hyaaa~" Yamaguchi quickly covers his crotch with both hands. "A-as I thought, this … this is … too…"

Tsukishima simply replies, "What are you embarrassed about? Aside from the fact that I gave you a blowjob a few minutes ago, in high school I used to touch it almost as often as you ate soggy fries."

"But … I don't remember any of it," Yamaguchi mumbles, eyes averting away from Tsukishima's.

"Then I'll just have to remind you."

With that, Tsukishima dips his head until his lips find Yamaguchi's. So responsive is his entire being to this man's touch that it feels as though he has been made exclusively for the possession of Tsukishima's skilled fingers. His stomach quivers with excitement as his lover's masculine hardness presses against his own.

At least, the knowledge that Tsukishima's arousal is as zealous as his own is a fair consolation prize to Yamaguchi. Tsukishima's cheek feels hot against his skin, sweat dampening his flesh where Yamaguchi touches it. When the pads of his fingertips roam over the smooth male contours of his lover, it feels so right that it gives him a pang of regret he doesn't remember doing this in the years prior.

Tsukishima positions himself closer between Yamaguchi's legs, and then hooks one up and gropes the flushed flesh of Yamaguchi's inner thigh. He places a hand on each butt cheek and slowly parts them to gain access to his entrance. Only then does he push his hardened flesh back into Yamaguchi.

It's a mishmash of feelings, rather than physical pain, which overwhelms Yamaguchi the moment Tsukishima's member re-enters him. He doesn't even realize that he has scrunched his eyes shut until he feels a tender caress on the curve of his jaw. He reopens his eyes to find an expression his lover has never shown him before.

Tsukishima Kei can be cool, snide, sarcastic and a thousand things more, but never the comforting type. Sympathy is a trait that doesn't sit well with this man—or, at least, that was Yamaguchi's conviction until a second ago. Now, when he looks at his lover's face, he can't be so sure anymore. Tsukishima gives him no word, but all the sincerity Yamaguchi needs is reflected in those brown eyes: guilt for hurting Yamaguchi, pleasure from the penetration, and limitless adoration, to name a few. It's as though their years of familiarity are all poured in that single gaze and the accumulated emotions are too overwhelming to handle alone.

But since there's no way Yamaguchi can say that to the man whose erect flesh is currently plunged deep inside his ass, he simply caresses Tsukishima's hair as tenderly as he can and comments, "You look troubled."

"How can I not?" Tsukishima replies. "I'm causing you nothing but pain."

"Oh, Tsukki… I'm happy that you care so much about me, but I'm not in pain."

Tsukishima gives Yamaguchi one of his unconvinced looks.

"I was overwhelmed by … well, what if this is over too soon or turns out to be a dream or one of us ends up with regrets or if my body isn't good enough for your liking or—ouch!"

Tsukishima flicks his index finger against Yamaguchi's forehead.

"Knock it off, will you? Here I thought you'd cured that lack of confidence during training camp our first year of high school."

"Sorry, Tsukki."

"Is it alright if I continue?"

Yamaguchi nods, noting the contrast between the impervious tone that Tsukishima employs and how his body treats Yamaguchi's with utmost care. I can't get enough of this tsundere side of Tsukki.

He watches, amused, as Tsukishima pauses after just a few inches of sheathing his solid length once again inside his body. He feels the taller man shivering from head to toe, probably refraining himself from pounding into Yamaguchi in an attempt to give him the best comfort. The egocentric, apathetic Tsukishima goes that far for him and him only.

Moved by this thought, Yamaguchi begins brushing his lips over Tsukishima's neck and shoulder, silently urging him to go on. A yearning whimper escapes his mouth when his partner withdraws, and then he gasps out when the taller man surges forward. But with the next movement, he eases himself to Tsukishima, pressing the hand steadied on his partner's shoulder into his hair and propelling himself forward. Thickness fills him to the brim, but his body readily swallows the fullness of the intruding flesh while his hips meet up and grinding into the other man's.

Yamaguchi gasps as Tsukishima pulls out slowly and pushes back in, sending sparks of desire cascading through his nerves, miles beyond anything he could ever give himself. The moment his lover moves within his body, he finds it impossible to refrain from moaning from sheer ecstasy. Unlike the case with his own fingers, there's no way he can predict Tsukishima's timing, and so each journey is filled with new anticipation, especially when Tsukishima's length effortlessly teases and strokes the place inside him that he can't reach with his own fingers.

When Tsukishima re-captures his lips in a kiss, a thought flashes in Yamaguchi's mind: that man's mouth has just been around his dick. However, he is past caring. With each passing second the breathtaking kiss lasts, Yamaguchi's objections melt into naught. The only thing he wants is Tsukishima and all he's aware of is Tsukishima's tongue against his own with passion and gentleness in perfect equilibrium.

Tsukishima shifts his weight and changes his angle, and Yamaguchi's breath ripples. The other person's weight upon him, the body heat blanketing him, the skin slithering across his own, the streaks of their sweat fusing together … all these sensations are new and otherworldly. No dick-stroking, no finger-stuffing, no sexual fantasy could compare. With each thrust, he feels the length of his partner's shaft brushing against the base of his sac, and he wants nothing more than to surrender himself completely to the man above him. He throbs with a desire for more of this man, more of a standoffish entity with a compassionate heart, more of Tsukishima Kei.

The moment Tsukishima leans down to breathe soft and intimate against the side of Yamaguchi's neck, Yamaguchi drapes his arms around the taller man's shoulders. With each thrust, he feels the length of his partner's shaft brushing against the base of his sac, and he wants nothing more than to surrender himself completely to the man above him. He throbs with the desire for more of this man, more of a standoffish entity with a compassionate heart, more of Tsukishima Kei.

If this is what intimacy is supposed to feel, I never want it to end.

As Tsukishima eases in and out, he takes Yamaguchi in a sweet rhythm that sends spasms of pleasure throughout his body so intensely that he locks his legs over Tsukishima's back. It's only then that Tsukishima fucks him as though he was created solely for this purpose. He pounds with the same craving of a starved man before a plate of hearty meals, like Yamaguchi is the only thing that can satiate his hunger. The universe tunnels down to just the two of them, and the night is condensed to pain and pleasure.

Tsukki, Tsukki, daisuki…

Yamaguchi wants to moan and moan and moan until Tsukishima finishes him whole. His toes are digging into the sheets, elevating his butt to meet each of Tsukishima's trusts. His thighs flank Tsukishima's hips and move with him in a series of delicious frictions. His ass clenches and unclenches, trying to draw it in or make it go faster, anything that will help him reach his peak.

Then Yamaguchi's brain unfreezes as he recognizes a tug below. Tsukishima is withdrawing halfway, and, on instinct, Yamaguchi's insides start to squeeze around Tsukishima's girth, urging it to remain there. Again, Tsukishima speaks no word of consolation, but the gleam in his eyes holds an unspoken promise.

Then Tsukishima drives back right in at a calculated angle, relishing the way Yamaguchi's intimate passage admits him and even melds into a perfect sheathe for him.

"Tadashi…" Tsukishima's trembling voice calls him so, so softly. "After seven long years, finally…"

Yamaguchi shudders when Tsukishima's length is fully inside, stretching him thoroughly and filling him up to the brim while Tsukishima's balls, heavy with passion, rest against his own ass. When Tsukishima slides with calculated precision, dragging new sparks of pleasure in his wake, Yamaguchi locks his ankles around Tsukishima's waist. Tsukishima is pressing so wonderfully against him, in him, around him.

"Tsukki, it f—ah—feels good … when you grind it … like that."

That moan seems to evaporate the last dreg of Tsukishima's self-control. His mouth captures Yamaguchi's again in another kiss, more passionate and possessive, all teeth and tongue, while his hips jostle faster and rougher into Yamaguchi's constricting heat. He laces his fingers together with Yamaguchi's, pinning him to the sheets. He pounds into him with unprecedented vigor.

Putting aside any thought of touching himself, Yamaguchi slides his arms around Tsukishima's shoulders. More and more pre-come dribbles down his thighs. He loses himself in the sensation of Tsukishima's mouth on his, the way he strokes his hair, and the somehow nostalgic way Tsukishima fits into him.

Yamaguchi's moans grow even louder when Tsukishima rolls his index finger upon his perked-up nipple. By the frantic way that Tsukishima ruts into him, Yamaguchi guesses that his partner has been driving himself mad trying to stay patient while indulging Yamaguchi with agonizing tenderness.

Their kisses become harsher, more frantic as the coiling heat in their groins prickles their balls and swell their erections. Breath intermingles. Quick snapping hips and tightening thighs keep the pace relentless. The more wildly Tsukishima rolls his hips, the keener Yamaguchi writhes in response.

Tsukishima sucks at the juncture of Yamaguchi's neck, before moving down to worship that freckled body with his caresses.

Yamaguchi grips Tsukishima's biceps and lets out a stuttered breath as his hips rock back into his partner. Amid the sloshing sounds of flesh meeting flesh, pleasure sings through his body, assaulting it in tingles and waves of euphoria. Still, he wants more of it, wishes it would never end.

He intends to tell Tsukishima all this, but all that comes out of him is a strangled cry of "Tsukki, Tsukki … aah! Tsukkiiiiiii!"

Yamaguchi is close and he is certain his partner is too; Tsukishima begins to falter in his rhythm as he approaches his crescendo. This man is his and his alone. Vowing in his mind that no one else will ever be allowed to see this side of Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi nips at the soft flesh of his lover's lips. Closing his eyes, he relishes in the feeling of his beloved Tsukishima re-imprinting his priapic shape into his body again and again and again.

Tsukishima cups Yamaguchi's chin in his palm, wordlessly demanding that the freckled man look at him to see who it is that fucks him breathless. "Tadashi…" his voice isn't the wickedly slow drawl from before; it's frantic and possessive.

I feel them, every pulse and every stroke of you inside me… Tsukki, Tsukki, Tsukki … I love you so much!

Yamaguchi's toes curl helplessly each time Tsukishima lunges forward. His hips buck involuntarily as his peak is approaching. With Tsukishima's tongue in his mouth, his hand wrapped around his member, and his erect flesh buried in his ass, it's too much all at once. As if this wasn't enough, the taller man unprecedentedly returns to grind into a spot with such a high precision that makes Yamaguchi arch his body and dig his nails into Tsukishima's back. As much as his mind wants to, his body can't withstand the tingling pleasure.

Then orgasm claims him with no further warning. It feels like he's exploding, lost in the intensity of Tsukishima moving inside him. Yamaguchi moans his lover's name as he comes hard. His back arches off the bed completely and the pleasure washes over him, drowns him and in the endless moments in which he breaks apart.

Yet even after hot wetness spurt across Yamaguchi's chest, his hammering heart and heated skin still long for Tsukishima. He sees Tsukishima's face, flushed with lust and adoration, and feels like he can breathe again.

Seeing his partner's delirious expression, Tsukishima is seized by the sudden urge to kiss Yamaguchi. And he doesn't bother to pull out. The result: the deepest penetration possible as the taller man shoves forward to claim the recliner's lips. With that kiss, Tsukishima not only steals his breath away but also everything else that he is. Pinned down beneath his god's body, there's no way Yamaguchi can remember who he is or any point of his life up to this.

Tsukishima pulls out as carefully as he can. An unintelligible noise, like a crossbreed between a yelp and moan, comes from Yamaguchi's mouth. "Sorry, did I hurt you?"

Too occupied with trying to catch a breath, Yamaguchi fails to find any voice to reply.

He feels Tsukishima go still for a moment, staring worriedly into his eyes and breathing anxiously against his lips. Just when Yamaguchi thinks Tsukishima is going to kiss him, his ass decides to ruins the mood by expelling the trapped air previously pumped into the rectum with each of Tsukishima's thrusts.

At least, unlike farts, they don't emit any odor. Yamaguchi can only hope that Tsukishima understands and that it won't put him off. "Tsukki, that wasn't … I mean, I'm sorry. It…"

Yamaguchi is knocked out of coherency by the dark look in Tsukishima's eyes and the knife-edge of his lips. Tsukishima gazes back at him, eyes trailing across the freckles dusted across the bridge of Yamaguchi's nose. Then he smirks, deadly and perfect, the expression a shadow that turns his eyes infinite and more tantalizing than nakedness itself.

Before Yamaguchi can collect himself to speak further, his ass is being pounded harder than before. "Tsu—ah! What are you d—nngh!"

"Do you think that even if that was a series of ridiculously-sounding farts, I'd be too grossed out to screw you?" Tsukishima's voice sounds so delicately soft and at the same time immovable as he dips his face to claim Yamaguchi's lips before he says, "It's normal."

It could be lip service; and yet, when Yamaguchi finds the unwavering passion in his lover's eyes, he can't help but believe in those words. The sincerity is there in Tsukishima's possessive grips as well as the loving gaze he's giving him.

Before Yamaguchi can regain his bearing, Tsukishima has resumed pistoning in and out of him. Not yet recovering from post-coital oversensitivity, Yamaguchi can only gasp and groan with every thrust he receives. The way Tsukishima fills him and the desperate sound of his name on his lips are all it takes to bring him over, moaning as he rolls his hips upward to take him in. He pants, catching his breath as his body continues to quiver with the aftermath, as well as with the movement of Tsukishima who still pushes on, burrowing into his body with a quickened pace. His toes curl up while his fingers clench the sheets beneath him. Although the steel-hard erection feels fucking fantastic inside him, it's still too much when he has just climaxed like this.

"Tsukki, slow d—ah! Aahhh…"

The squelches from flesh meeting wet flesh are the only reply. The sounds echo in his head, reminding him that his body and soul belong to this man who holds sway over his being after such a short time together. He shudders so violently that his spine arches and his ass rises off the mattress so that he is squatting on tiptoes while Tsukishima's reliable hands secure his thighs.

I don't want to part from you until we cease breathing.

"Haaa … ahhh … Tsukkiiiiiii!" Yamaguchi cries his beloved's name into the ceiling.

All of his cries are drowned out by Tsukishima, the low deep groans he makes as he thrusts into him.

It isn't much longer. Yamaguchi keeps moving with Tsukishima, rocking in time with his lover's thrusts. Tilting his head to whisper to him, he hardly needs to do more than graze his lips against Tsukishima's ear to bring him over and finish him off. Laborious breathing fills Yamaguchi's ear the moment Tsukishima buries his face in Yamaguchi's neck. Tsukishima rams his hips down once, twice, thrice more before he comes.

Liquid heat floods the condom inside Yamaguchi while Tsukishima's possessive fingers curl over his wrists and Tsukishima's hips pin him down. Tsukishima himself collapses on top of him, breath released in explosive bursts, as his pulsating erection grows softer inside Yamaguchi. He holds his partner, mind, body and soul through it all while murmuring "Tadashi…," soft and feverish, as if it were a prayer.

Feeling Tsukishima still sheathed inside, Yamaguchi tries his best to voice his feelings. His words come out as a jumbled mess of slurs and moans, courtesy of the exhausted flat of his throat despite the thrum of heat still roiling in his veins. "Tsu … kki … love … love you…"

The declaration makes Tsukishima freeze, and Yamaguchi dreads whatever is to come next. Tsukishima gazes at him with a look so intense it makes Yamaguchi feel … exposed, more naked than he already is. That stare explores every red mark blooming across Yamaguchi's skin—the marks that Tsukishima has planted to prove that Yamaguchi is his. Yamaguchi has to clench his jaw to resist the temptation of curling up and hiding his face in the slope of Tsukishima's shoulder.

Say something, Tsukki! Even a smirk and a conceited 'I know' is better than this silence.

Much to his surprise, Tsukishima takes his hand and brings it to his mouth, vowing a wordless oath as he kisses it. Butterflies swarm the pit of his stomach, granting him the sensation of a country bumpkin being offered a dance with Prince Tsukishima in a grand ballroom.

"Ich möchte den Rest meines Lebens mit Dir verbringen."

["I want to spend the rest of my life with you."]

Tsukki's gesture doesn't seem like a refusal, but… Mustering his courage, Yamaguchi asks, "Tsukki, what does that mean?"

Tsukishima's lips curved upward, his trademark snicker returning. "That ought to motivate you to learn German faster."

As soon as Yamaguchi opens his mouth to protest, Tsukishima overrides him, "That aside, you haven't come a second time."

"Wha—whoa! You don't have to do that!" Yamaguchi squeaks as soon as Tsukishima scoots over, hand hovering over the tube of lubricant.

"Tadashi, shut up."

"Sorry, Tsukk—ah!" Yamaguchi pulls Tsukishima's hand away. "Seriously, you don't need to! I'm fine. It'll eventually go away on its own if I just ignore it."

"Tadashi," Tsukishima rebukes him, "It seems as though you're convinced I have no obligation to you and yet here I am doing it anyway … do I have to spell out everything for you?"

Yamaguchi's mouth hangs open. Tsukishima's lovely body is right above him, straddling him. Another tint of crimson suffuses his cheeks as he twiddles his thumbs and mumbles, "D-do as you like with me."

Yamaguchi is wrong to guess that Tsukishima will continue his hand job. Instead, the taller man slathers some lubricant on his fingers and, in turn, places them into his own rear opening. Yamaguchi watches, mesmerized, as his lover positions the dip of his ass right above Yamaguchi's erect flesh before he slowly, gingerly, lowers himself. Tsukishima's face has always looked like a model coming straight out of fashion magazines, but his bare body is a whole new level of masculine beauty.

You love me to that extent, Tsukki? I'm the happiest person alive!

Then reason snaps back to Yamaguchi. "Tsukki, you don't have to force yourself. It hurts the first time and you're probably not gonna like it."

Tsukishima growls, "I just haven't done this for a long time. You should lie back and enjoy the ride."

The moment the tip of Yamaguchi's phallic hardness breaches his anal opening, Tsukishima sucks the air hard, and then swallows as quickly. Incapable of speech, he tilts his head back in an attempt to hide his pained expression from the one person whose good opinion truly matters to him.

Too tight!

Seeing the clench of Tsukishima's jaw and the wince the taller man is trying to suppress, Yamaguchi offers, "Tsukki, it must be painful. Let me prepare you first."

Breathing laboriously, Tsukishima nods. He groans as Yamaguchi's lubricated fingers probe at his ass, stroking the puckered flesh teasingly. The unhindered finger moves slowly inside him and he grunts then lets out a contented sigh. When Yamaguchi carefully adds another finger and uses them both to stretch him open and lightly massage his prostate, Tsukishima groans with desire as the tight guardian muscle clenches around those fingers and admits them deeper inside.

A muscle twitches in Yamaguchi's jaw as he is about to enter a third finger, the only outward sign of his struggle to stay calm. He watches Tsukishima spreading his legs wider, and Yamaguchi accepts the non-verbal invitation by dipping his slick finger inside.

When Yamaguchi looks up at Tsukishima, he feels the blood hum in his veins at the look of desire in those glittering hazel eyes. Crooking his fingers, he finds his partner's sweet spot. The taller man's muscles clench rhythmically each time Yamaguchi's fingers nudge there. Even Tsukishima's formerly flaccid shaft is hardening and starting to spill droplets of pre-come.

"That's enough, Tadashi. I'm fine. Put it in."

"You sure? If it's still painful, we can quit. We don't have to do this."

"If you aren't gonna do it, I will."

Still straddling Yamaguchi, Tsukishima raises his body over Yamaguchi's rampant erection for the second time that night, only to lower himself onto it. He adjusts his angle within seconds and slides down Yamaguchi's fervent flesh to only the tip before slamming down hard onto its full length and impaling himself. He bites his lips so as to prevent himself from moaning, but it's obvious from his fluttering eyelashes and half-opened eyelids how much he relishes every crease and vein in Yamaguchi's erection. He clenches and relaxes his channel as he rises up and plunges down, panting as Yamaguchi's flesh caresses his insides on each descent.

Being inside Tsukishima feels no less exhilarating than completing a successful jump float serve that eludes the desperate grasps of the players on the opposite side of the net. It's that moment in battle when all thoughts are lost to the void, and intoxication takes over. Every centimeter he delves into feels insanely good. Yamaguchi's body goes numb with ecstasy while his sex aches for release. After all, the very source that fuels his excitement is right above his body.

Sliding deep inside, Yamaguchi leans over Tsukishima kisses him again, gulping down his boyfriend's breathy grunts. He moves his arms to either side of Tsukishima's waist, stilling his lover's body once his flesh is fully encased by that most intimate channel while Tsukishima's sphincter holds it firm.

So hot … and squishy!

At any rate, Yamaguchi is grateful for the fact that quitting seems to be the last thing on Tsukishima's mind. He flexes his thighs to lift himself so his body can accommodate Yamaguchi's thrust, and rhythm can be established between them. He meets Yamaguchi's hips with renewed enthusiasm and begins kissing him hard, their passionate tongues intertwining as the freckled man's fingers find their way to Tsukishima's back.

Tsukishima's excellent self-control keeps him from groaning at every involuntary clench of his body around Yamaguchi. He rides the pulsating heat that penetrates him as hard as he can. Yamaguchi thrusts up off on the futon, meeting him every single time. With Yamaguchi's balls slapping against his ass and his shaft deep inside him, Tsukishima arches his back.

"Tsukki, are you alri—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Even with a grimace, Tsukishima manages to insert a joke in his reply. "Lay off the worrying about every little thing you do, or you'll turn into a wrinkly gramps all too soon!"

Yamaguchi's fingers travel upward, across the span of his lover's torso, until they reached his face. As gently as an antique dealer would touch a treasured porcelain vase, he murmurs, "Tsukki, you're so beautiful…"

Just by talking to Tsukishima makes Yamaguchi aware of how his body reverberates and responds to the rapture his partner is giving him.

"Tadashi…" Tsukishima captures Yamaguchi's lips in a searing kiss before murmuring, "… shut up."

Noticing Tsukishima trying to use that kiss as a distraction to bring his face out of focus and hides his blush, Yamaguchi suppresses his grin. He makes a mental note to devise some plan to get Tsukishima shut him up again in the near future.

But Yamaguchi also notices something else: Tsukishima's haughty expression dissolves to a sultry one as soon as he stares at his own reflection in Yamaguchi's eyes. So, Tsukki enjoys watching himself getting fucked?

He even experimentally wriggles his hips to see Yamaguchi's reaction. As soon as Yamaguchi yields a look of ecstasy, he continues to do that with each stroke, as if to make sure no single millimeter of Yamaguchi's erection remains unexplored by his moist anal folds. They start a smooth rhythm: Tsukishima fucking himself on Yamaguchi when the latter thrusts up, hips jerking, moaning at every thrust and every angle.

Yamaguchi whimpers Tsukishima's name over and over as he devotes himself to a rapid succession of short, sharp jabs striking Tsukishima's most erogenous spot. His world consists of Tsukishima and only of Tsukishima—his body, face, ragged breathing … they are all noises of hunger and pleasure. The sound of their bodies slamming against each other echoes through his tiny apartment.

Through heavy lids, Yamaguchi notices how his boyfriend's abdominal muscles contract and relax with each thrust, how sweat streaks over his own freckled skin, and how ragged Tsukishima's breathing has become. His instinct tells him his partner is getting close.

Watching Tsukishima bite his lip, he relishes the pleasure that burns into the core of his being and tightens in his stomach. Intensity courses through his veins like electricity, making him worship the man whom he fucks even more, increasing his yearning for him with every thrust. He can't stop, won't stop, Yamaguchi realizes; all he cares about is the feeling of his impending climax…

They lose control together. Yamaguchi's thrusts become impossibly harder and incredibly erratic. His lower half lifts off the mattress to meet Tsukishima's movements. On the final thrust, his hips buck and an eruption of pleasure rattles through him. As Yamaguchi's seed floods into the confines of the condom inside his beloved's body, the rush of heat instills him with an odd, indescribable feeling—as though he's marking Tsukishima as his territory. It is so overwhelmingly addictive…

Tsukishima screams in pleasure as he reaches orgasm again, his buttocks clench and the rest of his body stiffens during that last thrust. Semen spurts from the tip Tsukishima's erection, splattering across Yamaguchi's torso in response to the mark Yamaguchi has left inside him.

They remain in the same position for a while after that. Yamaguchi presses his face to the side of Tsukishima's neck, trying to steady himself as he comes down from the orgasm. Tsukishima's labored breath is searing against his throat. He's still on top of him, over him, around him—a divine form pressing down on Yamaguchi, keeping him pinned flat to the futon.

As their bodies still, they come back to themselves: heartbeats decelerating, covered in sweat, gazing at each other. The satiated look in both their eyes remains constant as the sounds of their breathing sync. Yamaguchi notices that Tsukishima has a fine sheen of sweat across his brow, and for a moment he closes his eyes. For that one moment, he looks absolutely peaceful.

However, as his spent length slides out of Tsukishima's opening, Yamaguchi is sure that the serenity of the afterglow won't last. He will have Tsukishima at his side for a few more days at most. All those chats and video calls won't be able to quench how much he's going to miss his boyfriend when he's back across the ocean. Not wanting to aspire to things his lover thinks he shouldn't have, he steels himself by inquiring, "Tsukki, tell me … what our relationship means to you."

Tsukishima reopens his eyelids, passionate golden-brown eyes staring directly into Yamaguchi's soul as though they already understand all the questions weighing on his mind before they make it out of his mouth. Tsukishima leans in until the closeness of their faces is searing although they aren't even skin-on-skin yet. With a tone far more affectionate than his usual sarcasm, he replies, "Let's talk about that tomorrow."

Never in these weeks together has Yamaguchi dared to imagine that Tsukishima could speak that tenderly. The next second, though, his mind goes completely blank from the touch of Tsukishima's lips, the friction of Tsukishima's naked skin, and—most of all—the way Tsukishima holds him like he's the only thing in the world that matters.

Even though the action that follows when Tsukishima's mouth slants over Yamaguchi is predictable, the sensation of the kiss itself is not. Any other kisses Yamaguchi has known pale in comparison. The bond between them is something that goes far deeper than the mere contact of their flesh, something that penetrates the chambers of their hearts. So thick is the fog of the delirium that clouds Yamaguchi's mind that he doesn't even realize the lassitude that begins to settle over him, leaving him floating between awareness and oblivion.

It isn't until the end of their third kiss that Tsukishima murmurs, "Nighty night, Tadashi."

---

Chapter 13

The sight that greets Tsukishima when he wakes up takes his breath away. He has not the faintest idea how anyone can be so desirable with bed hair, drool, and sleepy eyes, but Yamaguchi manages just that.

It'd be ideal if they could spend the day lazing around and snuggling each other, but Yamaguchi has to work for a removal company every Thursday.

"Does your family know that we're seeing each other?" Tsukishima asks over a bowl of breakfast cereal.

"Yeah. They … didn't take it very well." Then Yamaguchi rapidly appends, "But I've come to terms with that. We can't have everything we want in life, right?"

Tsukishima sets down his spoon. With both hands, he reaches for Yamaguchi's hands and holds them in his own. "It may take years, but we'll work out the solution together."

Yamaguchi beams at Tsukishima, but the next second, he swallows hard, and then asserts in a louder volume than normal, "On a different note, it would make me utterly happy if you consider…" He swallows again, his glance zapping around the room, his body jittery.

"Tadashi, stop beating around the bush."

"If you consider staying here for the duration of your visit!" Yamaguchi finishes his sentence with his eyes squeezed shut. His shoulders hunch, dreading whatever Tsukishima is going to say next. He adds in a tiny voice, "I'm aware my apartment can't hold a candle to a business hotel, though."

Tsukishima's lips curl into a pleased smirk. No word can make him any more elated than he is now, but that doesn't mean he won't tease his lover. "As long as you're ready for the consequences."

"Uh, and what are the consequences?"

Tsukishima gets up and hugs Yamaguchi from behind. He swirls the tip of his tongue against the shell of Yamaguchi's ear and whispers, "Spontaneous assaults like this…" He trails his lips along the column of Yamaguchi's neck and teasingly nibbles at his Adam's apple. "Or this…" His mouth places a hickey at the slope between Yamaguchi's neck and shoulder while his hands pinch Yamaguchi's nipples through his shirt. "Or this…"

"Oh, Tsukki … yes!" Yamaguchi moans through half-lidded eyes. Then he gasps, "Ah, I mean, no! Not right now … I have to go to work!"

Tsukishima pecks Yamaguchi's forehead. "We'll pick up where we left off when you return then." Also, I want to ask you to come to Belgium with me.

"At least, I'll have something to look forward to." Yamaguchi smiles as he hands Tsukishima his spare key.

As Yamaguchi sits on the genkan to put on his shoes, Tsukishima is seized by a sudden desire to touch his lover. He doesn't want this man to go.

"CanIkissyou?" Tsukishima blurts. Heat creeps up his cheeks, and he doesn't need a mirror to tell how deep the color of his blush is. How lame can he be? They've just said their goodbyes, for crying out loud!

But then Yamaguchi's freckled face leans closer until it closes the gap between them. Immense tenderness deluges Tsukishima. The pulse in Yamaguchi's throat and the throb in his veins tell him that his kisser is just as nervous as he is, and this brings him a strange sensation of peace and security.

"That's one of my dreams coming true," Tsukishima whispers. "I've always fantasized you kissing me before I go to the office in the morning."

"You … uh, do you expect me to wait at home like a housewife and greet you n-naked save for an apron?"

"We're both men. It's more like … when I rush toward the door, you tug my tie and pull me into a kiss, and then you leave for work yourself. Nothing else matters as long as the one at home welcomes the other with a hug and a kiss." Then Tsukishima adds as an afterthought, "Imagine us leisurely cooking together on Sundays and making out in the kitchen. As for the naked apron … it will make a wonderful birthday gift. Why are you making a face like you've just thought of something lewd?" he asks the moment he notices Yamaguchi's flustered cheeks.

"Why are you making a face like you've just thought of something lewd?" he asks the moment he notices Yamaguchi's flustered cheeks.

"Not telling you." With that, Yamaguchi dashes through the doorway.

###

Tsukishima catches up on sleep first then takes care of his business correspondences. He visits a convenience store to restock Yamaguchi's supplies, grabbing lunch while he's at it. The huge variety of ready-to-serve food in Japan isn't something that's easily found in Europe.

When Yamaguchi comes home that evening, Tsukishima has laid out a full-course set dinner.

"Wow!" Yamaguchi beams at the various dishes occupying his table. "This looks like a celebration. And speaking of, I do have something to celebrate." He reaches for the phone in his pocket and holds it up to Tsukishima. "Look! I've been dying to show you this since the email landed on my inbox three hours ago! I followed your advice and now I've landed a clerk job. This company is too far to commute from here, though; I'll probably have to move soon."

Tsukishima squints to read the email. It starts with the classic "Sugimoto Electronics is pleased to offer you the full-time position of…" With every syllable he reads, the farther his dreams fly away from him. There's no way life can go as he's planned for it in his head. He knows that. He knew, but…

"Hey, you made it." Tsukishima forces himself to smile as he puts his true intention on the back burner. How can he possibly ask his boyfriend to go with him after Yamaguchi's wholehearted endeavors have finally paid off? "Congrats!"

They make small talk as they eat. With each passing syllable, Tsukishima becomes more convinced this is the life he has been yearning for and it will be the life he can no longer grasp if he wants to appreciate Yamaguchi's achievement.

Trying to divert his attention elsewhere, Tsukishima remarks, "Come to think of it, I haven't paid you for letting me stay here."

With a thunderstruck look on his face, Yamaguchi replies, "No way! You can't be thinking of—"

"I transferred a payment to your phone," Tsukishima calmly interrupts his boyfriend.

Now Yamaguchi's expression shifts into a hurt one. "Tsukki, why are you treating me like some stranger trying to leech onto you for money?"

"I never said anything about money." His trademark smirk returning, Tsukishima teases the befuddled Yamaguchi. "Take a look at your phone before yapping any further, Hachiko."

With a disgruntled huff, Yamaguchi checks out the cloud storage link that Tsukishima has sent. His eyes widen at the sight of the first photo screenshot, and then his gaze softens with pronounced fondness as he scrolls through the rest.

Sent from the photo gallery app of Tsukishima's smartphone, the files are comprised of the backups of his chats with Yamaguchi during his first year in Belgium. He remembers how he had taken trivialities like "goodnight" and "talk to you tomorrow" for granted at the time, but he'd pay any price to hear those words again from Yamaguchi's mouth years later. Those screenshots were the safeholds which kept him on his own two feet during hard times. Now, listening to Yamaguchi's whimper of "Gosh, did I really write these embarrassing words?" he swears never to let his precious Tadashi slip away through his fingers again.

In addition to their chat screenshots, Tsukishima also includes their childhood photos up to high school. He allows himself a small smile as Yamaguchi's face lights up from the sight of their younger selves together.

"I would never have guessed you could make this face." Yamaguchi laughs and holds up his phone so that Tsukishima can see the picture of himself about to sneeze while Yamaguchi is talking avidly next to him. Both are wearing their Karasuno volleyball team uniforms.

"And you look so adorable here." Yamaguchi points at the picture of himself and Tsukishima wearing street clothes with a planetarium in the background. They are clearly in their early teens. Tsukishima remembers he had just bought a moon key chain from the gift shop to be exchanged for Yamaguchi's star one.

Yamaguchi gasps as he sees the next photo. "These scarves…" His words trail off.

"It's the one I was trying to retrieve from the river. It was a gift from you. Your last Christmas gift before I left for Belgium."

"Tsukki, I'm sorry. If I'd known…"

Tsukishima shakes his head. "What's more important is that you're here with me. As long as you're with me, I can live without that memento."

But how long will that happiness last? Sooner or later, he'll have to return to Belgium. Tsukishima can imagine how desolate his future will be: him, returning to an empty condominium each evening, with no Yamaguchi beside him. He has to tell his beloved the real reason he has come to Japan. Now.

Except that he can't seem to bring himself to say the words.

Yamaguchi notices a small piece of paper lying close to the foot of the low table and bends to pick it up. "Is this yours?"

Tsukishima nods. He doesn't need to inspect that piece of paper to recognize it as a business card that had fallen from his wallet when he tried to find an associate's contact details earlier that afternoon. The sleek black matte rectangle bears his full name in the Latin alphabet, along with his CEO title for the company called das Versprechen.

"How do you pronounce this?" Yamaguchi points at the card.

"Da:s fɛɐ̯'ʃprɛçn̩. "

"Is it just me or do you articulate the R's differently?"

"Very good." Tsukishima grinned. "The first r is located at the end of the syllable, so it's barely readable. The last one precedes a vowel, so it's pronounced like a gargling sound."

"And what does the phrase mean?"

"The promise."

"Hmm… Somehow I have a hunch that this is more than just the promise to deliver high-quality customers' orders on time?"

Tsukishima nods. "When my parents forced me to study in Belgium, I made a promise to myself: I'd be financially independent of them as soon as I could. I wasn't going to let them deprive true love of me ever again."

"Oh, Tsukki…" Yamaguchi interlaces his fingers with Tsukishima's.

Tsukishima swallows. "On that note, I'd like to make you an offer." He retrieves his phone, opens one of his emails, and shows it to Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi squints. "Why does this e-ticket have my name on it?"

Tsukishima adjusts his glasses, even though they aren't askew in the slightest. With the calmest demeanor he can muster, he declares, "I booked it so that you can fly to Belgium."

"Why?"

"I'd like you to come with me. Give it a try, at least." Tsukishima gulps. "But, uh, spouting all this when you finally got the full-time job you've been aiming for … it feels like raining on your parade."

"So, that's what the long face is for?"

Tsukishima blinks.

"I was guessing you'd brush off my question if I asked what was wrong because you wouldn't want to worry 's why I kept my mouth shut while looking out for the right opportunity to bring up the subject."

Tsukishima can only stare in disbelief. How does Yamaguchi know his character so deeply in the span of mere days?

"But if I leave for Belgium with you, does this mean er, I … I'm going to be your kept man?" Yamaguchi mumbles, his gaze remaining averted from Tsukishima's.

"Of course…" Tsukishima answers with an air of certainty, taking delight in the way Yamaguchi flinches, before continuing, "…not!"

Tsukishima smirks as Yamaguchi's face contorts into a mixture of surprise and relief. "For starters, I'll have to live frugally for a while because of that damn flood. I already had to sell my sports car and put my condo up as collateral for a bank loan. Do you seriously believe I can afford to keep anyone?"

Yamaguchi fidgets. "But then what would I do?"

"My schedule is getting more and more hectic, so I've been thinking of hiring a secretary. I'm planning to expand within half a year … the newly created export-import department will still be unstaffed. My current warehouse stock keeper will also need a new assistant. And there's always room for a couple more personnel in the packaging department. But if you still don't like any of those options, you can always return here. There's another ticket for you with the return date printed for next month, but it is adjustable for up to a year."

"Wait, wait, wait… How would I work there when I don't even speak any language other than Japanese?"

"You'd attend a language school as part of the education provided by the company. Think of it as a part-time internship. Ostend is more diverse than it is here, so the people are less discriminatory. There's no special treatment for seniority at work either. It's based on achievements. Also, companies arranging omiai for their workers are unheard of. There's no chorei either; if the higher-ups have something to say, they'll call the relevant employee to their offices or send them emails instead of wasting time by telling the entire staff every morning before work starts."

Yamaguchi's parted lips are shivering and his brows furrow over his bewildered eyes, but his body freezes.

"I know it's a lot to process and I'm asking you to make a decision to leave everything behind in such short notice—"

"What if I like it?" Yamaguchi challenges.

"You like … what?"

"Your offer. You said that if I didn't like living with you in Belgium, I could use the ticket to fly back to Japan, but what if I do like staying with you?"

Tsukishima's eyes turn beady. His cool-headed façade drops. He pictures himself walking hand-in-hand with Yamaguchi, passing a huge Christmas tree at a shopping arcade. A relieved, almost goofy smile is plastered upon his lips as he replies, "All the more reason to get back. If you feel you fit in Ostend, we'll change your tourist visa into a permanent residency through a civic union. I'll need to meet your parents to ask your hand in marriage, even if the meeting is likely to become a bloodbath. Legally, we're adults who can get married without our parents' approval, but I'd rather confront them than steal you away from them."

"Marriage?" Yamaguchi squeaks, red spots blooming across his freckles.

"Only if you consent, of course." Tsukishima takes Yamaguchi's hand and interlaces their fingers.

"Um, Tsukki, what about your family?"

"There's no denying that my parents would prefer a daughter-in-law over a son-in-law, but my brother made them give me their word seven years ago that they'd have to approve of you if I still loved you after we became adults. Also, I can hire a lawyer if push comes to shove."

"You seem to have thought this through."

"I've had years to ponder." Tsukishima brings Yamaguchi's hand to his mouth and kisses his lover's knuckles. "Come with me?"

They gaze at each other. They would be soulmates, true loves, partners in anything and everything. Equals.

"For as long as I live, Tsukki."

OWARI

---

OMAKE

Kei wakes up to the sun rays that sift through the curtain. Blinking his drowsy eyes, he seeks the priceless view of Tadashi's bed hair with which he has been rewarded every morning. Absent of his glasses, his blurry vision compels his fingers to do the work in finding the warmth of his bedmate. The search yields nothing but cool sheets. Instead, his ears catch a familiar voice in the distance, "Yes, and I'd like the icing on the strawberry shortcake to say: 'Happy Silver Anniversary'."

The sound of that last phrase brings an upward curve to Kei's lips. Twenty-five years have passed since he and Tadashi filled out the marriage registration form and held a private ceremony on a yacht. The congratulatory e-cards from his parents came the day after, his brother telling him in a phone conversation that they were unavailable to speak with him. It took strenuous efforts and six years after their civic union, but Tadashi's parents eventually signed the paper that changed his surname to Yamaguchi. Well, more precisely, half a year after Tsukishima's business venture had made a name for itself among Berlin's company leaderboard and three weeks after Tsukishima settled the hospital bills for Hiroshi's kidney transplant.

Rising from the bed, Kei heads straight to the living room of their condominium, the volume clearer with every step, "Sure. I'll pick it up at the patisserie around five p.m. on Wednesday."

Tadashi has just tapped the end call button of his phone when Kei wraps his arms around his husband's waist from behind. Now, even with gray streaks on his head and age lines on his skin, Yamaguchi Tadashi looks no less desirable in Kei's eyes.

"Morning, Kei," Tadashi chirps.

Ah, the mere sound of Tadashi's voice is enough to bring a smile to Kei's lips. His teenage self would have scoffed at the notion of getting all worked up for something so mundanely simple, but his current self just can't help it; he possesses no control over the spill of overheated amusement that bubbles up his throat. "It's Sunday. Get back to bed."

"Today's my turn to prepare breakfast."

"It's our anniversary; I'd rather have you." Kei's fingers press into the hollow of Tadashi's hipbone as his lips kiss his husband's freckled nape.

As always, Tadashi bursts into giggles whenever Kei does that. "That tickles … and our anniversary is still three days away!"

Kei seizes the opportunity to drag Tadashi back into their bedroom and push him onto the mattress, pressing the imprint of their joined bodies to the sheets of the bed beneath them. His banter comes between the little nips he bombards along the junction between Tadashi's neck and shoulder, "Then we'll have seventy-two more hours to prepare."

"Ke—ahh!"

THE END