Falling for a Tragedy | Kei Tsukishima ?

Tsukishima didn't shy away from the smile, nor did he return it. You detached it feeling full of fake hope, fake optimism. It was difficult telling these things to Kei when you hardly believed it yourself. You were just two kids, stragglers, in a hierarchy where adults held the power, the jurisdiction. Did you really have choices? Did you have any say in the matter at all?

"I'm going to go check on my mum. I'll be right back," you said, dumping your cup in the sink, in the layer of cold, shallow water, and made for the stairway. You heard Tsukishima sigh, and the warmth from being in his presence drained rapidly from your body, leaving your bones numb with cold and loneliness. You didn't want to leave him.

You approached your mum's room slowly, brushing your knuckles against the door. There was no reply, no acknowledgement she'd even heard you, but you pushed the door open anyway. Inside was still dark, the curtains drawn over the window allowing nothing but a soft mist of light to seep through. Waiting for your eyes to adjust, the furnishings of the room emerged slowly, big, shadowy bulks, before becoming more refined, distinct outlines. The bed was near the window, and you stepped further into the room. Old perfume, like chalk, and sweat filled your nostrils. "Mum? Mum, it's almost half past seven. I just came to see if you wanted any breakfast..." You stopped short, panic twisting like a cold, knotted rope around your neck. "Oh crap."

You marched over the window, seizing a handful of material and throwing the drapes wide. Light poured into the room like honey, golden, gleaming. The bed lay empty and made-up, untouched. Untouched all night, from the look of it. Had your mother even come home?

You hadn't thought of checking if her car had been in the drive, too preoccupied with Tsukishima when you had left this morning. Panic rose like bile in your throat, burning, you rushed back down to the kitchen, poking your head into the living room as you passed, hoping to find her passed out on the sofa, but that room was undisturbed too, untouched, unused.

"[Y/N] what's wrong?"

You paused to catch your breath, doubled against the kitchen counter. "My mum isn't here. I don't think she came home last night. Can you... can you check if her car's outside? It's black."

You heard the front door open, the sound of morning truckers, birdsong, sweeping through, then silence. Tsukishima came back with his head bowed, doleful. A simple shake. Your hands bunched into fists. "What... what if she's hurt? What if she's t-trapped in some stranger's house and she can't get out? She might be drowning in a river somewhere, too drunk to swim-"

A shadow fell over you, and the warmth of human skin pulsed so close you held your breath. You lifted your eyes and swallowed, Tsukishima's chest but a few inches from your face. You could see the narrow bridge of his collarbones, sharp as knives, those fingerprints of his parent's love, fleshy pink and lilac, like flower petals under the skin. You froze, waiting for him to do something. You'd never been so close.

"Stop," he whispered, and his voice was so soft and light and fragile it was like a feather brushing against your heart, tickling it into a static rhythm. "Stop guessing, stop thinking the worst. Stop and think."

You untangled a deep breath and nodded, but the fear still played with your mind and the itch for human contact was too much - you moved forward and laid your head against his chest. He stiffened, a sharp breath through his nose, but relaxed just as quickly, letting his hands rest loosely against the small of your back. You could hear his heart, thudding beneath your ear, an echo in the wide cavity of his chest, a countdown - when was detonation? A heart, so human, so fragile, like a piece of patchwork, one loose thread and the whole thing unravelled. Would he let you stitch his back up?

You let go, ignoring the current that was pulling you back to him, dabbing your eyes, your skin damp and cold, porcelain, and righted yourself. Tsukishima had stepped away too, his eyes fixed on something - the window.