Work Text:
Tsukishima strolled towards the performance area with single-minded determination. Today was the day. As he got closer to the backstage tent where the performers prepared, he felt his heart beating faster and his palms becoming clammy. He was nervous.
Today he would meet Yamaguchi Tadashi.
-
Yamaguchi was an upcoming singer who Tsukishima had stumbled across about a year ago, after finding one of his original songs on YouTube. He sat in awe watching the lithe fingers of an artist no younger than himself dance across the piano keys, and marvelled at a voice raw with the anguish of a thousand lives lived and lost, yet beautiful, like the twisting currents of the sea. He’d commented as much on the video, and the very next day they changed their performance name to “YetSea”.
The rest happened quickly, Tsukishima followed YetSea’s Instagram, a different account @YamTad followed him back. They began messaging, and it turned out they grew up in the same city, but While Yamaguchi stayed to pursue music, Tsukishima left to attend University and play League 2 volleyball. Their infrequent messages became daily occurrences. They exchanged numbers. Yamaguchi’s name at the top of his screen made him smile bigger and bigger each day. Texts turned into calls, and calls turned into a confused array of feelings.
Tsukishima had never had a crush that he was attracted to. He didn’t think he ever would past idolising or respecting someone. And yet… Yamaguchi - who by this point, months into their friendship had insisted on being called Tadashi – was making Tsukishima’s heartbeat erratic and his guts twist into nervous knots of excitement.
The more he got to know him, the more they made Tsukishima think thoughts he never had before. Such as how nice it would be to feel the lips that sang so sweetly, bantered so naturally and smiled so widely against his own skin; against his own lips. About what Yamaguchi would feel like in his arms, how he’d feel tucked into the other’s. What he’d look like above him, groaning, sweaty… he cut these thoughts off. He was confused.
Tsukishima had been so sure he was asexual, that sex just didn’t do it for him, and he didn’t feel that kind of pull to other people. But Yamaguchi had made him doubt this a little. He spent the night searching for a word that made him feel right, and eventually found one. He wasn’t wrong, he was asexual, just not in the way he’d previously thought.
The next day he told Yamaguchi that he was demisexual, terrified to lose the friend he’d made. Yamaguchi told him that was cool. Yamaguchi explained that they used they/he pronouns because they identified as a demi-boy and the pronouns made him euphoric. Tsukishima smiled into the camera and Yamaguchi smiled right back.
About 10 months into their friendship, and several thousand more followers on the YetSea account, Yamaguchi was invited to perform at the Miyagi Pride festival. In turn, Tsukishima was invited to come meet Yamaguchi in person, and finally watch him perform live. He hesitated, not ready to come out to his mum as pan or demi, but knowing he couldn’t lie about the reason for his visit. Yamaguchi offered his own flat up to stay at, one he’d been living in since his parents kicked him out at 17, several years ago. Tsukishima accepted and 2 months later there he was.
He’d come out to his brother as pan at age 16, so Akiteru gladly accompanied him to the event, an ally providing moral support at his first-ever Pride.
-
Tsukishima paused when he reached the tent, suddenly unsure of himself. He turned to his brother who watched him with curious eyes. He opened his mouth to question himself before remembering:
Secrets whispered into the darkness of night,
Falling asleep to the sound of gentle guitar, played for his ears only,
Crying together at the injustice of the world, the injustice of their lives,
Smiles shared through a phone camera,
Letters and gifts mailed for a birthday he had never really celebrated,
The promise to meet at Pride.
A promise he intended to keep.
He turned from his brother, and after taking a deep breath poked his head through the tent opening.
15 pairs of eyes fell on him, makeup artists and stage crew workers, event managers and more. But Tsukishima only had eyes for one person. Over the din of the tent, he made out the word “Kei”, spoken with such reverence and joy that his knees nearly buckled. The artist looked radiant, sitting at a large vanity, their long hair pulled into a ponytail, and glittery makeup across their eyes. He wanted to be close to Yamaguchi right that second.
As if reading his mind, A short blonde woman cleared her throat before shouting over the room: “Everyone out!”
Some people turned to protest, but she only repeated herself even louder “EVERYONE OUT OF THIS TENT, RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”
The room fell silent, except for a few grumbles here and there as all the workers filed out at the back of the tent, the side that exited towards the stage.
The blonde woman gave him a bright smile, before patting Yamaguchi on the shoulder and leaving through the flap Tsukishima was still standing at.
And just like that, they were alone.
He looked down at the floor, trying to find the confidence he needed to say what he had to, but soon heard a voice much closer than it was before.
“Kei,” Yamaguchi whispered this time mere steps from Tsukishima, his smile even more beautiful in real life.
Tsukishima found himself floored but didn’t want to further embarrass himself, so he pushed the bouquet of flowers he’d been holding behind his back towards his friend. Yamaguchi’s eyes widened as he took in the arrangement of sunflowers and wisteria, purple and yellow put together so sweetly. They lifted them to their nose, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, and when they looked back at Tsukishima, there were tears in their eyes.
“Sunflowers are my favourite, and wisteria are yours. They’re together,’ he took a step closer to his friend, ‘we’re together.”
Tsukishima wanted to avert his eyes from the intense gaze, but found himself mesmerised. When he opened his mouth, the words he wanted were right there, at the tip of his tongue.
“Yamaguchi-‘
‘-Tadashi,” Yamaguchi interrupted.
Tsukishima rolled his eyes fondly and Yamaguchi giggled.
“Tadashi,’ he restarted, ‘I like you. And before you ask what I like about you, I made a list.”
Tsukishima pulled a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket and held it up to his face.
“I like your voice, when you sing and how you master any instrument you touch. I like your smile, which is honestly so pretty it feels like a crime. I like how open you are, how you let me talk to you about anything. I like how resilient you are, you’ve been through so much, and you just keep going. I like how your music is finally gaining the recognition it deserves. I like how you changed your performance name after I commented on your video on the first day. I like your freckles, and your hair, and your eyes, god those eyes. I even like when we argue over stupid things, and how sweet we get to be when we make up. I like all of you Yama- Tadashi.”
When Tsukishima finally looked up from the paper, he was surprised to see the tear tracks down his friend’s cheek. His first thought was to panic, thinking he’d insulted the singer, but when Yamaguchi threw their arms around his neck, he relaxed, melting into the embrace.
Pulling away, Yamaguchi wiped the tears from their cheeks, and looked back up at Tsukishima, tucking stray hairs behind their ear nervously.
“I really like you too, Kei. No-one has ever been this patient with me or seen me as fully as you do. And, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be more than friends. We can take it slow, but I want to be partners. Would you want that too?”
Tsukishima was shocked to feel tears welling in his own eyes. To save the embarrassment of a voice crack in front of his frien- partner, he chose to nod instead.
Yamaguchi beamed, taking another step forwards.
“Can I kiss you?”
Tsukishima nodded again, leaning down with eyes closed.
When their lips touched there were no fireworks, no life-changing emotions, but there was real joy, the feeling of someone who meant something to the other wanting to share this moment, wanting to be close. There was real happiness.
-
Outside the tent stood a tall awkward blonde man, and a short confident artist manager.
“Thank fuck it all worked out,” Yachi said, a pleased smile clear on her face.
“Yeah,’ Akiteru replied, ‘This is the start of something good.”