#...maybe another day I’ll rearrange my room again. not today tho

[whomturgled]

ok so far i have; picked up all the stuff lying all over my floor and night stand and put them in acceptable places (laundry & drawers & garbage), swept the floor, found my old phone case w/ the pop socket still attached and duct taped it back to life so i can type comfortably again, ,,,? i think that’s it. is that it?? maybe bc there was a lot of additional little things during all that like making sure things are tidy and shuffling stuff around ?

now i still have to: clear all the stuff from behind my bed (might actually save that one for another time out of fear of what could possibly lurk beneath that mess), strip my bed & find a basket to put all my blankets n shit in, find clean sheets and temporary blankets that will not appease My Sensory Hell body but will be Acceptable , make my bed (which means probably kicking nymie out of my room for a minute so she doesn’t chase my sheets and sit in the middle of the bed), shave my ugly neck beard (& maybe buzz my undercut while I’m at it ?? may as well am i right), look at myself in the mirror and want to die a little bit but just a casual silly amount because the next step is take a shower, accidentally spend like 2 hour dissociating in the shower bc I’ve been avoiding showering or bathing (other than like... wiping myself down w/ a washcloth) for maybe a month because i’m mentally ill haha am i right, THEN get into comfy clean bed and pat myself on the back for my moment of mental health before I have to do it all over again in a couple months no matter how much i believe i will form any semblance of a routine <3 oh fuck also brush my teeth somewhere in there idk I’ll make it a fun surprise

[spillingmygutsofficial]

Hoarder’s Home

As the pencil hits the page, my mind’s hand pulls back like a scared animal and tosses waves of self-shame and sadness into my eyes and stomach. I want to go deeper into myself and dig out the source but fear lingers around. What will I find? I created this inner world with the delusion of it’s creation being manifested by it’s own means. Why do I feel waves of self-insufficiency and self-inferiority in an activity that as a collective agree that “There’s no wrong way of doing it. Just let it out.” I feel like my inner world is getting cleaned at the rate of cleaning a Hoarder’s House. One piece of trash at a time while can’t decide whether if that piece of garbage is worth saving or tossing out. Hell, fuck it, maybe toss or burn the whole place down and start all over again. But I don’t know if I can afford a new house or even allowed to own a new one. This might be the only house I’ll ever get. This house used to be beautiful. Stained glass windows, light purple walls, and lights that reaches every corner of the room. But now, the windows are broken and the rose colored stains have faded. The paint on walls are chipping and deteriorating into a new darker dull color. Now, we keep the lights off and the sun out, the darkness hides the ugly and it’s made it’s place here. It’s gotten to the point where I feel like I’m “trying” to keep myself sad because I’ve been here for so long, it’s all I really know. I don’t feel like I’m faking tho, my happiness just feels so weak and diluted. If it was a drug, it would be categorized as a mild high, shit tier, and no one would buy it. But sadness? Oh boy, that shit is potent, a hallucinogen and almost enlightening but fucks you right up. Misery loves company right? I’m not alone in this house, I’ve made roommates. First, there’s Melancholy, our first and longest tenant here. A toxic sludge that consumes me like the venom in Spider-Man 3. Next there’s paranoia, I feel like I may have a love and hate relationship with her. She tells me all my thoughts are true and tells me I’m right cuz no one is around to tell me I’m wrong. She’s a shapeshifter with static lines, changing her forms to keep me on my toes and always rearranging the furniture. Then there’s Derealization and Depersonalization who are brother and sister, they’re always hand and hand. They can be quite annoying because they keep asking me questions I never really thought to ask myself.

“Who are you really? Why are we here? Isn’t this house just a figment of your own imagination, a metaphor really, so why and how do we exist if we’re just abstract concepts to help you explain the confusing reality the real you endures on a day to day basis? You’re also living out many paradoxes, like, you matter just as much as everybody else, a living miracle to be alive, one in a 400 trillion chance to even been created, but on the other side of that coin, it’s diluted, so you don’t really matter cuz everyone else is the same exact thing. You’re just this small, microscopic speck of a speck, cog in a enormous and multi-complexion of a super machine, but at the same time, if you were taken out, the machine would create a whole different product compared to if you were still left inside.”

I have to talk to Dissociation to drown out their chatter. Dissociation isn’t good nor bad, he’s just this faceless and traitless silhouette. He absorbs me and borrows the very essence of who I am temporarily to turn me into him, switching places. Peace inside the blank nothingness.

Enters the dark cloud with an eye in the middle, it goes by many names: the abyss, the void, nightmare, the inner mirror; it’s neither good or bad, more like brutally honest. Just says it exactly how it is with no sugar coating. Almost like he’s the father to Derealization and Depersonalization. But it’s not all bad roommates, I have someone here who sees how dirty, bruised, and wounded I am and helps clean, keeps me out of bed and tries motivating me. But she’s very under appreciated here and receives shit talk to her face and behind her back from the others. She’s like a guardian angel cuz I don’t know what I would do without her but she can only handle so much. She sometimes locks herself in her room to de-stress and replenish herself but that’s when me and the house are our most vulnerable. I worry the others are gonna overwhelm her to death or she might just get up and leave. She’s never given me her name though, I call her Hope but she says that’s so cliched and has asked me to stop. I told her,

“Hey, bitch, YOURE the one who doesn’t wanna tell me your name!”

She replies, “ You’ll know what I am to you one day. It’ll come to you.”

I created this house with my own manifestations but I can destroy it too. Self-cleansing is ideal, but I created this place to feel some control but somewhere along the way I’ve lost it. So in order to feel in control again, I have the urge to destroy it all, along with everyone inside. But maybe another day, because today, I threw away an old shoe and an old notebook away. Sigh... so much work to do with so little help and loads of resistance.

[its-love-u-asshole]

Slipping Underneath [Ch. 1]

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Summary: Tsukishima was in some deep shit he realized, but common sense told him he should have been rather happy about the discovery he'd just made. Of course, that didn't stop him from freaking out.

"Tsukki? Did something happen?" Bokuto asked. 

Dejected, the blond lifted his head, giving Bokuto the flattest stare he could manage. "The neighbor downstairs hates my voice."

Rating: T

Tags: soulmates, mythology/sirens AU, some iwaoi and bokuaka thrown in bc why not, first meetings, fluff, Kuroo is a nerd and Tsukki can’t help but be charmed, Siren!Tsukki, Siren!Bokuto 

Note: Yes, I know I started another multichapter, I’m sorry, please forgive these sins of mine. I couldn’t resist a sirens/soulmate AU tho?? I had the sudden inspo and ofc this was born, enjoy! <3 Big thanks to @allykat023 and @emeraldwaves for reading this over! 

AO3

The first time he heard the voice, it was because he'd been marooned on the patio of his apartment. His apartment. It was almost more degrading than when he was sexiled to the common room of his freshman dorms. He was a third year now though, this was his own property damnit.

When Kenma had decided to move into a place with Hinata, Kuroo had been forced to room with a certain overly social setter. He liked Oikawa, he really did. Well, when he wasn't being too dramatic or nosy anyways...

They got along fine, great actually. It was only when Iwaizumi visited from his university every other weekend that Kuroo found himself setting up camp on his spacious, yet boring as hell balcony.

At least the glass was thick enough to drown out any noise...

Kuroo shuddered, remembering the time he'd ventured inside for a glass of water, walking past Oikawa's bedroom...

Yeah, no. He'd learned a lot since then, had come a long way from his days as a young fool (three months ago). Now he prepared his food and drink ahead of time, almost like he was going on a picnic. This way, he never had to hear those...sounds come from Oikawa's room ever again. Even worse, Kuroo was not about to deal with Oikawa's smug face in the morning, knowing he heard everything. At least Iwaizumi had the decency to be embarrassed and smack Oikawa across the head.

So yeah, patio.

It sounded crappy, but despite the loud sex Oikawa seemed bent on having, Kuroo didn't really mind being relocated for a few hours. It gave him time to study, since he was without television or outlets. It was exactly what he needed, and he could count on those nights outside to get all his coursework done for the following week. It was a brutal study session, but it was worth it. While everyone else struggled to catch up on assignments during the week, he could go out, and play video games to his heart's content. Oikawa said he needed to get laid; and while it might've been true, Kuroo wasn't compelled to actively look for a partner right then. If something happened, it happened.

So when the usual Oikawa and Iwaizumi sex marathon finally came along one fateful Saturday night later than usual, Kuroo swore it was fate.

Kuroo had taken his usual chair on the patio, satisfied the weather wasn't too muggy for once. Perfect for studying. He had set out all his highlighters and pens, ready as ever for a night of expert note taking, but as he sank into the chair's cushions with his psychology textbook sitting on his lap, he'd heard it.

And oh how he wish he hadn't.

The melody, if it could be called that, invaded his space, punching his ear drums. The pure horribleness of the voice as it sang was enough to make his head shoot up, his ears straining and begging Kuroo to get away. It was awful enough to make him wonder if someone could die from it. The voice was bad, if he was being nice about it; and oh, he was really trying to be nice about it. But it made his brain melt, and all thoughts of studying disintegrated in favor of escape. Even the sounds of Oikawa getting pounded into the bed were a better option than this torture.

Kuroo almost felt guilty. After all, this was just some random soul who wanted to sing on their balcony. Kuroo had no say in it, and it wasn't like Kuroo's voice was anything to brag about. He should just grin and bear it, but...

Jesus fuck.

How could he possibly work through such a horrid sound?

It was a guy's voice, that much he could tell despite the screeching quality of it. As Kuroo stood to try and find the source though, he became confused. There was no one on either of the balconies beside his, and every second the song persisted, the harder it was to trace it. It was like the sound was all encompassing, coming from every direction at once, burning Kuroo's ear canals and twisting his insides. How was no one else hearing it?

There were quite a few guys loitering around down below the apartments, but they looked like they were having a fine time, blissful even.

Where the hell...

Was he getting pranked?

The song continued as he searched, the rough tones pulling Kuroo like a magnet even though his ears were probably bleeding. Oh well, he still had his eyes. Maybe the price of hearing aids had gone down...

Focus man!

Kuroo groaned, trying to employ the problem solving skills he'd spent years cultivating.

Eventually, and mostly because he couldn't take it anymore, he figured the only place it could be coming from was above him. There was one floor up after his, and since the apartments were dirt cheap, there was hardly any space between them. Risks be damned, Kuroo jumped up without hesitation, grabbing hold of the higher balcony's railing and using his strength to pull himself up. It might've been stupid, and shit he definitely could've fallen to his death. However, that song would drive him nuts and kill him anyways if he allowed it to continue.

Please...make it stop...

Kuroo groaned as he found his footing, easily hooking his legs over the rails after doing so. He was out of breath, and he dared not look at how high up he was or think about how the fuck he was going to get back down. He'd made it. He'd figure the rest out as he went.

As soon as he'd plopped down on the railing, the banshee screeching had ceased, and Kuroo thought he was gonna cry in relief.

Thank god.

Wiping the sweat on his brow, Kuroo looked up, scanning the small patio in seconds until his eyes finally landed on the apartment's inhabitant.

And wow, what a sight.

The blond was frozen where he stood, watering can in hand as he moved to rearrange a pot of tulips, one leg stretched out awkwardly in front of him like he'd been mid-step.

Even in such a ridiculous pose, Kuroo could say the blond was nothing short of stunning. Long legs, pale skin, and warm, golden eyes hidden behind black frames.

He was breathtaking, and Kuroo almost refused to believe such an awful sound had come from such a beauty. Kuroo felt his protests and excuses die in his throat, partly from the fact he was standing in front of a god, and partly because his position did not look good.

Here he was, in stained sweatpants and a sweatshirt, looking like some pathetic second rate burglar while his runway model neighbor seemed two seconds away from running.

It would've been hilarious, had the blond not looked like he was debating on whether to stab Kuroo with the nearby trowel before he left.

Somehow, the thought of a death by garden tool shook Kuroo out of whatever trance he was in, because he managed to find his voice a few seconds later.

"Okay," he began, gradually stepping onto the patio, his ears ringing from their previous abuse. "I know this looks bad, but your singing--"

All of a sudden, the blond groaned, his scowl powerful enough to kill a weaker man. Fearlessly, he grabbed the trowel--called it--and held it up in Kuroo's direction, the threat clear. Come closer, die.

It should not have been as hot as it was.

"How many times do I have to tell you people I'm not interested? Fuck off," the blond hissed, his annoyance clear. Although, given the situation, he was a lot more composed than Kuroo expected. If this was how the other responded to break ins, he was a lot better off than he and Oikawa.

The blond lowered his voice to a mumble, speaking almost to himself rather than to Kuroo as the awkwardness between them intensified. "To think not even living on the top floor helped..."

Huh?

Okay, Kuroo had to find his voice right then and there, lest he be charged with trespassing.

"Um wait, I can explain," Kuroo said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I was just--ha, I was trying to study...I live below you by the way so uh, hey there. I'm Kuroo Tetsurou."

Kuroo grinned, hoping his charm would help to win the other over, but all it got him was the most unimpressed stare he'd ever seen. The blond's eye twitched in irritation, his aura just as menacing as before.

Yet still so pretty.

"I don't care who you are, get off my balcony," the other demanded, not letting up on his threatening pose.

Kuroo sighed. Today really wasn't his day. To think he couldn't reassure people as well as he used to...

He'd really have to work on his debate skills if he wanted to pass his public speaking class.

"Ah okay, okay! Sorry, I'll leave. I just came up here because your singing...it was a bit distracting and--"

"I don't want a boyfriend," the blond deadpanned, his scowl deepening.

Oh wow alright, that's random.

Kuroo shook his head, trying to decide what was the next best course of action, considering none of what he wanted to say was getting across. Better just to be upfront about it.

"Um okay, me neither. I mean, I'm not opposed, and you look...wow but shit wait--" Kuroo went on uselessly, and he was getting pretty damn tired of tripping over his own tongue. Not cool. Groaning up to the sky, he clasped his hands together, fixing the blond with the sternest look he could muster. "I just came to ask you if you could please stop singing. It’s making it hard to study, and I need to get this work done."

Kuroo said it so fast, he was worried the blond didn't hear him, especially from the way silence seemed to descend on them again, the other blinking at him in shock. Ah shit, there's the guilt.

The thing was, Kuroo couldn't justify himself beyond that. It wasn't that the singing was just distracting, it was downright terrible, but he was way too nice to come out and say it. He prayed the other would stop without asking too many questions.

The blond's face contorted several times, each expression no less attractive on the other's face, no matter how displeased they were. From shock, to anger, and then back to shock. The other's face eventually settled on pure confusion.

The silence was moving into painful territory now, and Kuroo thought he was was better off retreating to his own apartment, Oikawa's atrocious sex moans be damned.

The blond blinked slowly, his hands lowering until the trowel fell to the floor, the loud clang echoing into the night air. "You...want me to stop singing?"

His voice was bland, cold, but Kuroo could pick up on slightest note of disbelief in there too. It made him wince. Great, this was what he'd wanted to avoid. He had to be careful now, the last thing he wanted was a neighbor who hated his guts.

"Yeah...sorry. I mean it's not like I'm a music critic or anything I mean--"

"Why?" The blond's question was sharp, straight to the point, asking the question Kuroo desperately didn't want to answer. Kuroo only prayed this guy wasn't too sensitive about this kind of thing. He didn't want another ex-theater kid lecturing him about how he couldn't recognize true talent. Been there, done that.

To be blunt or to lie...

Damn his own morals. "It wasn't to my tastes...I guess?" It was so painful I wanted to rip my ears off. "But I'm sure it definitely is to some people." Demons. "I for sure can't sing so--"

"You thought it was bad."

It was less curious and more certain, like an observation, and Kuroo started to feel a bit uncomfortable (and maybe weirdly excited) under the blond's gaze. Those golden eyes might as well have been boring into his soul, searching for...well, he didn't know.

Kuroo swallowed. "Well--"

"Yes or no."

The irritation from the blond was more than noticeable now; and whatever, Kuroo had already botched this whole encounter. "Yeah, it...it wasn't great."

So much for getting this guy's number. Kuroo felt himself deflate a little, expecting the other to start coming at him with much deserved insults. Only, it didn't happen. At all.

The blond nodded his head slowly, and Kuroo's fully recovered hearing picked up on his shaky exhale. Kuroo thought he could read people pretty well based on their mannerisms and expressions, but he didn't have a clue what any of that meant. It was like the blond was shocked, but trying his damn best to not show it.

There was another beat of tense silence before the other seemed to snap out of his daze, his scowl returning tenfold. Kuroo stopped breathing.

"Fine, I'll stop. Can you leave now?"

Kuroo blinked, exhaling all at once as the blond turned his back to him. It was a clear gesture, one Kuroo had no problem reading, and yeah...he'd overstayed his welcome.

Definitely not getting that number.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Thanks..." Kuroo trailed off stiffly, sparing the other one last glance and noticing the tenseness of his shoulders. The guilt was back again, but Kuroo knew trying to fix the situation now wouldn't help. He'd apologize properly some other time.

Turning his attention back to the railing, Kuroo scaled down the balcony back onto his own, his thoughts filled with nothing but his neighbor's face for the rest of the night.

--

This was not good.

Tsukishima stared at the wall as the cake on his plate sat untouched, piping exquisite and begging to be devoured. To think he was actually too distracted to eat dessert. Yeah, not good at all. Absurd too, stupid even. There was no reason for him to be freaking out.

In spite, he glared down at his cake, picking up his fork before stabbing the soft sponge and shoveling a good half of the piece into his mouth. Motherfucker.

The cake tasted sweet, moist with rich frosting and just the right ratio of sponge to cream. It embodied everything he could've wanted from a dessert, and yet his face still set itself in a sour expression.

Tsukishima stomped his foot on the floor, as if it would somehow affect the neighbor below him. The one with the atrocious bedhead, the cause of all his problems.

Annoying.

"Tsukishima, is something wrong?" Akaashi's smooth voice, calm and expectant--because yes, he probably knew there was indeed something wrong--forced Tsukishima out of his thoughts.

Tsukishima glanced up to the kitchen island where Akaashi sat, his posture far too elegant for someone wearing owl patterned sweats. It didn't stop him from being observant though. Tsukishima probably should've been more careful about it; but at the same time, he knew the other would find out eventually.

After more prolonged silence, Akaashi prodded further, knowing it was usually the only way to nudge Tsukishima. “Because you know you can tell me.”

For some reason, it made Tsukishima sigh into the space between them, knowing he’d have to get this off his chest if he wanted to stay sane. Plus, there wasn’t any harm in it.

Tsukishima kept his friend group small yes; but that also meant he held a decent degree of trust for each of the people in it. Akaashi was the best person to go to with these issues anyways, since he tended to be the most rational.

Yamaguchi always shed a good light on things, but he was away at another university. And besides, the freckled boy tended to lean more towards an overly optimistic approach which Tsukishima wasn't too fond of pursuing at this point. He had to be sure first, and even then...he didn't owe anything to anyone.

Setting down his fork, Tsukishima fixed the other with the most neutral stare he could manage, lest he give anything away too soon. Tsukishima clenched his fists, his dull nails managing to leave imprints in his palm. This was humiliating, but he needed to know.

"Akaashi," he began, steeling himself as he willed away another scowl. "Would you mind...listening to me sing?"

The other's grey eyes widened considerably, an unusual event when considering Akaashi's calm nature. “Oh, well…”

Yeah, Tsukishima knew the question was unexpected. He didn’t blame his friend for the shock.

Tsukishima hated singing. It was his least favorite thing to do, if it made the damn list at all. Not to say he didn't love music, but singing was a different story. It attracted attention, it brought unwanted advances. He associated singing with everyone's eyes on him, and he loathed it more than anything. Yet, he couldn't help but sing. It came so damn naturally to him, to the point that sometimes he wasn't aware he was even doing it until someone came up to him.

Or climbed his balcony.

Ugh.

That was the thing...

At the end of the day, he didn't have a choice but to sing. He could very well die if he didn't. That's what happened to sirens.

Cursed with fatally beautiful voices, ones which used to lure men to their deaths centuries ago, sirens both thrived and withered due to their gifts. And of course, Tsukishima happened to descend from a community of them. He blamed his mother.

He had been a siren since the day he was born; and his voice had reached maturity sometime in high school, a powerful weapon. Or well, it would've been, had he not lived in the 21st century. Being a siren was pretty useless now, apart from getting hordes of guys to do the occasional bidding, or for winning singing contests.

In addition to his virtually unnecessary gift, being a siren came with a lot of difficulties. If he didn't sing enough, he'd grow sickly and die; and if he sang too much...he could lose his voice completely.

The former was generally what afflicted his kind in the modern age though. And despite his dislike for singing, it wasn't a problem. Tsukishima had grown used to singing in the privacy of his own home to keep healthy.

However...this issue was a new one, one he'd hoped to never deal with. Being told his song wasn't calming to the human ear...it worried him.

If a siren's voice was no longer pleasing to humans, it meant the siren could be dying.

Tsukishima's pulse sped up at the thought, his future goals and achievements flashing before his eyes as he willed himself to not jump to conclusions. He wouldn't panic, not until it was confirmed.

Akaashi was a human, one who knew about Tsukishima's predicament. He'd be honest with him.

Tsukishima took a few more deep breaths, feeling the anxiety subside a bit as he forced himself to make eye contact with Akaashi again.

If his balcony hopping neighbor thought his singing had been anything less than perfect and ended up being right, it could be Tsukishima's life on the line. That or it was the alternative, the only other explanation for his singing being atrocious, and Tsukishima refused to entertain that idea without eliminating the other options.

God, kill me.

"Sure," Akaashi began, stunned at Tsukishima's request. "But, why do you--"

"Hey hey!" Bokuto's voice boomed through the humble apartment, the door frame rattling along with the wall as he slammed the door shut. "What's goin on?"

Ah, great.

Akaashi lit up at the sound of his boyfriend, although it was mostly undetectable to anyone who wasn't used to the other's subtle facial changes. To anyone else, Akaashi probably looked bored, but Tsukishima could see him practically glowing.

They were disgusting.

Regardless, even Tsukishima couldn't deny the fact they were hopelessly in love. He'd known Bokuto since childhood, having grown up in the same small community of sirens in their hometown. Bokuto was just like him, albeit way more optimistic in nature. Tsukishima didn't think he could possibly grow any happier, until he'd met Akaashi.

Tsukishima couldn't complain then either, since he'd grown rather close to Bokuto's boyfriend as well.

Tsukishima watched them as Bokuto's hand slid along Akaashi's arm, both of them comfortable with the touch, leaning into each other as if no one else existed in the world.

The peaceful expression on Akaashi's face remained up until Bokuto started to hum in contentment, a habit he had never managed to break. Then the setter's nose was scrunching up in distaste, his eyes flashing as if he'd been struck.

Ah, and there it was.

Akaashi clutched Bokuto's shirt with unrivaled insistence. "Koutarou--"

Bokuto snapped out of his daze, kicked from his reality while the guilt washed over him. He'd gotten better at being mindful, but well, it was a siren's instinct to make music. He was bound to slip up once in a while.

Bokuto cut the humming, and he cradled Akaashi's face in apology, placing a loud kiss to the setter's cheek while Tsukishima focused his gaze on the cracks in the table.

Again, disgusting.

Bokuto's voice radiated nothing but sincerity as he pulled away. "Sorry Keiji, I forgot. It wasn't that bad was it?"

"Mm," Akaashi said, and he shook his head, his smile somewhat amused. "It wasn't. You stopped."

Bokuto fist pumped at the accomplishment, looping his arm around Akaashi's shoulders after he'd fully relaxed. His eyes were back to their normal brightness, the concern gone. "Yes! Soon I'll have that down!"

Tsukishima rolled his eyes along with Akaashi, but it was full of fondness.

"Anyways, what are we talkin' bout?" Bokuto slouched further into his chair, his wide eyes homing in on Tsukishima's unfinished cake. "Obviously there's a reason you haven't devoured that."

"Tsukishima wants to sing for me," Akaashi said, tone concerned in a way which made Tsukishima feel silly for actually bringing his issue up. Maybe he was overreacting. "Why--"

"Tsukki," Bokuto hissed, standing up so quickly Tsukishima flinched, his golden eyes focusing in on the blond with an almost predator like accuracy. "Are you trying to seduce Keiji?"

The silence between them would've been comical had Tsukishima had any patience for Bokuto that day.

Are you serious?

Sensing Tsukishima's growing murderous intent, Akaashi jumped in, soothing his boyfriend with a touch to the shoulder. "Koutarou...I doubt that's what's happening."

"But--"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Tsukishima said through gritted teeth. "Can you just listen to me sing? I'll explain after."

Bokuto's sharp gaze morphed into puppy dog eyes in a flash, his mouth forming a pout as if he'd been told he'd be sleeping outside. Tsukishima didn't necessarily like making Bokuto feel bad, after all, they'd grown up together. He was used to Bokuto, found his mannerisms to be rather endearing even, but Tsukishima couldn't take any more interruptions.

To say he was freaking out was an understatement. He had to know what was wrong.

Akaashi's brow furrowed, the concern clearly there, and he nodded. Bokuto must've also sensed the rapid mood change, since he sat down without much complaint, eyes never leaving the blond's.

Well, here goes.

It had been years since Tsukishima had sang for an audience, even for Bokuto, one of his own kind, but he couldn't get shy now. Taking a deep breath, Tsukishima closed his eyes, letting the words flow out of his mouth until he spun a melody all his own.

"Take my hand, come towards the sea, and with every wave, you'll be safe with me. Don't fear the crash, don't mind the rocks, just know I'll guide you past it all." 

The notes formed, slow and sure, and the orchestra in Tsukishima's head began to pick up, the assigned parts and instruments knowing exactly where to jump in, where to fit. This song he knew better than any other, had let it travel and burn itself into his soul. The song flowed, the notes amplified. Sometimes they faded into nothingness, lost in the sea of music he created.

And really, this was what he did love about singing at the end of the day. Not putting people under a spell, not enticing men to do his bidding—though in his high school years it had been fun. No, it was the melodies and magic of the song itself. It calmed him, washed away any troubles until he was like the barren shore. Peaceful, cool, but so alive beneath the surface.

Even someone like him, with his rationality and cynicism couldn't deny any of that.

This he could do forever, but his time might've very well been up, and the thought cruelly brought an end to the lightness in his chest.

Tsukishima ceased, clearing his throat as he opened his eyes. Akaashi hadn't asked him to stop the whole time, so he assumed it was a good sign, but who knew. Sometimes Tsukishima got too lost in his own music, he wouldn't have noticed. Maybe it was so bad, the raven had left the room in agony, or--

"Tsukishima."

His eyes snapped up to meet Akaashi's, catching the sight of dilated pupils as Akaashi came down from the high which sirens could elicit. The haze was still there, the spell just barely starting to undo itself. Akaashi shook his head rapidly, attempting to snap out of it for good.

Bokuto sat next to him, pouting with his arms crossed. Baby.

"Sorry, I feel like my brain turned off for a second there," Akaashi said, holding a hand to his head as his mind began to work again. "I'm not sure what you're worried about though. Your singing is as good as ever, as I'm sure you could see from the effects..."

Tsukishima sighed audibly, uncaring of what his friends thought. He slouched in his chair, the tension rolling out of him. He wasn't dying. His voice was appealing to humans. Nothing about it had changed, and he was going to be okay. His life wasn't over.

Tsukishima felt his relief for about two more seconds before the panic set in. The other panic, the one which came from the alternative reason he had to be worried about his voice.

His singing was fine; it had the same effects it had always had. It was enticing, alluring even. The only human who thought otherwise, lived right below him.

No.

That guy, his neighbor, with his untamed hair and impressive strength. The one who had no qualms about trespassing on someone else's property, the one too polite for his own good.

He had hated Tsukishima's voice. He had been physically pained by the sound of it, and that only meant one thing. Tsukishima wasn't an idiot, he knew. He'd been warned about this all his life.

He'd fucking seen it happen. At the thought, his eyes shot up to Bokuto and Akaashi, looking between them like a starved animal.

Oh no. No. No, nope, not happening.

Bokuto turned to his boyfriend, the peeved expression having never left his face. "Hmph, I can sing just as good Akaashi! I--"

"Yes, yes," Akaashi cut Bokuto off with the softest of smiles, though the amusement was apparent. Tsukishima couldn't take any joy in it, or return the smile Akaashi threw him. "I'm sure you can. Too bad I'll never know."

And it was true. Akaashi would never think Bokuto's singing was anything but atrocious, torturous in fact. Such was the way of a siren's soulmate. The one person who couldn't stand a siren's song was the person they were meant to fall in love with.

I'm going to be sick.

"It's not fair! Tsukishima doesn't even know what it's like," Bokuto ranted, unaware of the internal crisis going on right across the table. "I can't wait til he meets his soulmate, and they think his singing is awf--"

"I don't have a soulmate," Tsukishima said, his voice sharp. He'd been unable to stop himself. He couldn't help it. The realization was barely settling in, boiling inside him. It couldn't be. It was a mistake. "There's no way...."

His neighbor was not his soulmate. It wasn't possible. They didn't know each other at all, Tsukishima had no idea if they were compatible in any way, shape, or form. And while Tsukishima's brain unhelpfully pointed out how it was that way for most people, Tsukishima was bent on finding any reason to nullify this new finding.

This guy had just had hearing issues...or something.

Tsukishima put his head in his hands, knowing he was being childish at this point. He heard Bokuto's chair move, a sign he had gotten up, and seconds later he was most definitely crouched at Tsukishima's side, radiating warmth.

"Tsukki? Did something happen?" Bokuto asked, and it was so unbelievably caring, Tsukishima couldn't take it.

Dejected, the blond lifted his head, giving Bokuto the flattest stare he could manage. "The neighbor downstairs hates my voice."

Saying it aloud hit it home, and Tsukishima's body sagged in defeat, his stomach swirling in irritation and...something else he didn't want to think about. He didn't get butterflies. That was not happening.

Despite the part of him which continued to hope this was all a misunderstanding, he already knew how this would go down from Akaashi's shocked expression and Bokuto's excited cheering. This problem was not going away.

Not by a long shot.

--

It wasn't until Tsukishima was getting his mail the next morning that they met again.

"Hey there," Kuroo said, leaning against the mailboxes with no qualms about keeping a reasonable distance between them. Tsukishima jumped slightly, slamming his box shut a bit too loudly for the hour, stunned by the intensity of the other's eyes.

Well, that and whatever was going on with his hair.

Tsukishima debated walking away without responding, but he felt like this guy wasn't the type to let something like this go. He'd climbed a damn balcony after all; he was obviously capable of being quite persistent if he had something he needed to say.

"Morning," Tsukishima muttered, focusing on the various bills and letters in his hand instead of falling into the trap of the other's stare. It was shockingly difficult, and it pissed him off more. He wasn't supposed to like this guy, despite every other indication that he should. Tsukishima was a stubborn asshole sometimes. If this guy was so special, he could prove it to Tsukishima the old fashioned way. The blond refused to make it easy.

Yet, there were some things he couldn't ignore. Tsukishima used pushing up his glasses as an excuse to sneak a peek at the other every now and again, and yeah fine, he was handsome. Broad shoulders, strong physique, a teasing smile...

It was irritating for a variety of different reasons, but mostly because Tsukishima couldn't find it in himself to hate this guy, a complete stranger.

"So look," Kuroo said, his easy going posture taking a turn towards awkward, embarrassed even. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats, rocking on his heels. "I'm sorry if I offended you the other night. I seriously didn't mean to, it wasn't my--"

"It's fine, it doesn't matter," Tsukishima said, his tone brisk. He tried not to let the flush rise to his cheeks, but he felt like he'd lost that battle from the way Kuroo grinned at him. And well, it was true. It didn't matter. Tsukishima was stubborn, but he wasn't about to blame Kuroo for something he couldn't control. Tsukishima's voice was truly painful for him, and he couldn't resist wanting the pain to stop.

The fact Kuroo actually apologized for his rudeness despite that made Tsukishima's stomach flip, a pleasant tingling traveling up his spine. Tsukishima looked up at Kuroo fully then, causing him to flush in a much similar fashion.

God. This was stupid.

"Ah well, cool. Great!" Kuroo cleared his throat, rifling a hand through his hair. Cute. "Because since we're neighbors and all, I wanted to make sure we...got along."

"Oh?" Tsukishima arched a brow, and he felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards involuntarily. "I didn't realize we were school children."

Kuroo faltered, his eyes widening as if he were a child, and Tsukishima had to hide his smile behind his hand. "Oh, well--"

"And it's not like we're roommates, so there's really no requirement for us to get along," he continued, keeping his voice as level as possible, almost bored. What he said was true after all, but he also just wanted to give the other a hard time. Again, Tsukishima was not going to make this easy. This was who the fates had given him as a soulmate, the one who they thought was there to bring out the best in him. If he couldn't handle this, then Tsukishima would know the universe had made a mistake.

Tsukishima wasn't the easiest to impress. He had high walls which took a fair amount of time to climb over, but it wasn't an impossible feat.

As much as the idea of soulmates intimidated him and made him skeptical, he wouldn't push away a connection if there was meant to be one. He'd grown a lot from his standoffish, cold high school days. He had Bokuto and Akaashi, as well as his family, and he cared for them immensely. However, those connections were natural, not forced.

He'd accept nothing less from anyone, not even his predestined lover.

Kuroo stared at him for a second too long in Tsukishima's opinion, analyzing him. He was fairly shameless about it too, considering the few times Tsukishima caught him glancing below the neck.

Kuroo knew it too, from the way he smirked, slow and leisurely. He knew exactly what he was doing, making his flirtiness clear. What a dork. This side of him had been absent when he'd climbed Tsukishima's damn balcony. Although, he'd said Tsukishima looked "wow," so that was a good indication.

Tsukishima felt his cheeks heat up more, and he cursed himself. So unacceptable.

"What if I want to get along?" Kuroo asked, and wow did he wink at me. He fucking winked at me.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have broken into my apartment."

"Hey! It was just the balcony."

"Trespassing."

"I'm a model citizen."

"Leaving the scene of a crime."

"You asked me to leave!"

"And who will the police trust?" Tsukishima shrugged, not bothering to hide a smirk of his own now that he had Kuroo floundering. It wasn't everyday he found someone who he could banter with so smoothly. Kuroo was downright ridiculous though.

"You're evil you know that?" Kuroo's grin betrayed his words as he spoke, and Tsukishima neither confirmed nor denied the accusation. "Wouldn't have expected that from someone with tulips on their back porch."

Tsukishima grunted while Kuroo laughed at his own joke, all too amused with himself. The laugh wasn't full bodied, but it rang genuine regardless, the sound weirdly sweet to Tsukishima's ears whether it was at his expense or not. Kuroo wiped fake tears from his eyes, prompting an eye roll out of the blond.

"Nah, I'm sure gardening is a menacing field. Ha, get it. Fie--"

"I heard it the first time, please don't make me hear it again."

And with that, Tsukishima walked off, all too aware that he was probably now running late for his first class. He glanced over his shoulder, something tugging at him to turn around and look at Kuroo once more.

It was the first of many mistakes. Kuroo was smiling at him, way too fond for someone he'd just met, dopey almost. It stopped the blond dead in his tracks, his breath stalling abnormally. That look...it was neither fair nor logical in any form.

"Hey, what's your name? I don't think I ever asked," Kuroo said with a soft laugh. "Too busy trespassing and what not."

Tsukishima paused, biting his lip. Normally, he wouldn't give the information away, simply because he didn't know Kuroo too well. But part of him felt the weird inevitability surrounding the situation. Not that they'd end up being anything meaningful to each other, but that this wasn't the last time they'd meet.

"Tsukishima Kei," he answered, surprised there was hardly any hesitation there. It was as if it was natural, intimate even, giving Kuroo his name.

So silly honestly, but the fact didn't erase the feeling. Especially not when Kuroo was smiling at him so openly.

"See you around then, Tsukishima."

The blond didn't answer as he turned, but from the way heat traveled to the back of his neck, he figured he didn't have to.