#the first draft of this was absolutely nasty but the finished product isnt actually so bad? i think i kinda like it

[seijch]

tsukishima kei | dooms•day

tsukishima kei + gender neutral!reader

genre. romance, angst, bits of fluff

word count. 1.9k

recommended listening. matt maltese - as the world caves in

synopsis. how would you spend the next twenty-four hours, knowing that they would be your last?

12:00 AM | 23:59:59

The clock strikes midnight.

You exchange a glance with Tsukishima.

This is the beginning of the end, it says. Are you ready? it asks.

The meteor is en route to Earth. The planet has less than twenty-four hours left to live.

You haven’t been able to sleep much these days, and Tsukishima can’t blame you. Instead, you stay up together, a movie you’ve seen countless times playing in the background. “Can we watch something else? I don’t know how keen I am on making this one of the last movies I ever see,” he drawls.

Your relationship has always required mastery of reading between the lines, peering through the hairline cracks in words and actions for their true meaning. You called him out on it, once.

(“You’re like a nut,” you’d blurted, legs draped over his lap as you scrolled through your timeline.

There had been a beat of silence before he deadpanned, “What.” When you glanced up from your phone, he had been giving you a look.

Looks, in your relationship, are quite commonplace. Tsukki’s full of them: hard looks that express his exasperation, split seconds of pure adoration he thinks you don’t notice, and even capital-L Looks that lead to sweaty bodies against smooth bedsheets.

That night, his look had been one of muted curiosity. “You know,” you pressed on, sitting up to close the distance between you, “like how squirrels break open nuts to get to the good stuff.” To prove your point, you had knocked on his skull and stifled a laugh at his grimace.

“You’re calling me a nut?” His mouth was set into a hard line. “You could’ve just as easily called me an oyster, say I’m a pearl or some sappy shit like that.”

“First of all, no,” you frowned, having switched to carding your fingers through his hair. “When have we ever been into sappy shit? Besides, I think it’s funnier to call you a nut. So I will.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more in my life,” he said, leaning into your touch regardless.

“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that.” You had taken the victory that night, planted a chaste kiss to his lips as your prize.) 

You know he doesn’t mind the movie; in fact, you think he enjoys it. You don’t know how to tell him that a numb feeling’s set in, ghosting over your fingertips. You don’t know how to tell him that the two things keeping you steady are his arms around you and the movie (which, really, isn’t even that good) playing.

So you don’t. The way he holds you tighter than ever tells you everything you need to know.

3:16 AM | 20:44:15

“I take it we’re not sleeping tonight?” Tsukishima asks, long fingers wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate.

You blow on your own mug before responding. “What’s the point? We’ll be asleep soon enough.” Forever, you don’t add.

“Fair enough.”

The first sip is sweet in all the right ways. You cherish the little joy, the small victory, while you can.

5:49 AM | 18:11:57

The sun rises on the last day you’ll ever see. You and Tsukishima watch it crawl up the high-rise buildings around you, darkness giving way to dawn. You’ve never understood the appeal of chasing after sunrise and sunset, but you start to wish you hadn’t taken something so constant for granted.

Tsukishima’s fingers graze yours as they hang from the railing of your apartment’s balcony. His fingers toy with yours, intertwined without your palms touching. He does this often, and you’re sure you can map out the callouses of his fingers, each line of his palm by touch alone.

It’s as the sky bleeds from orange to pale blue that it hits.

Your eyes sting with incoming tears at the finality. You won’t finish college. You won’t get to live your dreams, move into a proper house. You won’t get to see Tsukki, your Tsukki at the end of the altar, waiting for you to join him.

“I love you,” you choke out, voice strained. It’s the only thing you can think to say at a time like this. “I mean it. I always mean it, but—” You try to stress your words, make it absolutely clear that you’ve never meant anything like you mean this. “I mean it. I love you, Kei.” You retract your hand from his, needing both to wipe away your tears.

When you turn to look at him, he’s crying too.

1:57 PM | 10:03:17

You’ve just gotten off the phone with your family, the first and last people you called when the news of the world’s end got out. When was the last time you saw them? Saw your friends? The time you have left isn’t enough to see them one last time.

Your fist trembles as you press it against your lips, eyes sore but stinging with tears kept at bay.

Despite this, the sun shines cheerily outside. It’s a beautiful day, everything washed in afternoon light. You figure this is better than spending your last day with the sky painted dreary gray.

Tsukishima comes up behind you, arms rubbing circles into your upper arms. “I just got off the phone with Akiteru.”

“How is he?”

“With our mom.” You know he wishes he could be there too, wants for it like nothing else. You can only dream to grant his eleventh-hour request.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” And then, “Let’s get out of here.” You turn to face him, surprise clear as day. (You suppose that if anything can drive a homebody outside, it’s the end of the world.) “I figure you don’t wanna die in our shitty apartment.” His hold on your arms drops, instead taking his hands in yours. “Let’s go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

You scan the apartment one last time. (There really seems to be a lot of lasts today, but you figure it can’t be helped.) This was your home for months, despite the leaky faucet and chipped wallpaper.

Every corner oozes with memories, more than enough to make your heart feel as though it’s fit to burst. Tsukishima’s thumb caresses the back of your hand. That’s right. Your other home, the one you can’t afford to lose now, is right in front of you.

You get dressed.

7:25 PM | 4:35:18

The sun sets on the last day you’ll ever see. You think that you like sunsets a bit more than sunrises; less waking up early (or staying up late), a view that gives you more than enough bang for your buck. You watch the way orange seeps through the sky in reverse, dusk giving way to the dark of night, head resting on Tsukishima’s shoulder.

It’s quiet. You’ve parked somewhere secluded, hidden from prying eyes. With less than four hours before certain death, you get nostalgic for how far you’ve come since your time at Karasuno.

“Thank you,” you say, breaking the silence. “I’m glad you were such a smarmy bastard in high school.” He chuckles, the sound a pleasant rumble that singlehandedly warms you from the inside out.

“I’m glad you liked to think you could top my scores,” he replies.

(It had taken you two years to finally, finally beat his exam scores. Having no reason to talk to Tsukishima after that, you disappeared from each other’s lives. It had taken you a month to piece together the reason you felt so strangely empty without his signature smirk to rile you up.

“You like me,” you’d said, sitting backwards in the desk in front of him as he ate lunch. You didn’t phrase it as a question; why would you, when you knew the answer?

“You got what you wanted already, didn’t you? Why are you still here?” You were a thorn in Tsukishima’s side, as he’d repeated time and time again (both in private and to your face). Even still, he had to admit that the past month without you had been...boring. (He also had to endure Yamaguchi’s endless questions about you, drilling your absence into his head even further.)

“Do you want me to be nice, or do you want me to be honest?”

“Just spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

“Unfortunately,” you’d prefaced this with a long-suffering sigh, “I feel the same way. You might be an emotionally constipated asshole, but what I’m saying is…” Your fingers drummed on his desk, invading his space. “Let’s go on a date.”

Shaking himself from his stunned silence, he’d replied, “Sure.” In the moment, it had sounded nonchalant, but you had a feeling his hands were getting clammy.

Truth be told, you had it on good authority (Yamaguchi, who’d gotten sick and tired of bearing witness to almost three years of you two dancing around your feelings) that he felt the same you did. It was Yamaguchi’s words that gave you the confidence to confront Tsukishima at all.

“I’ll see you on Saturday, then. This better not be boring, Tsukishima,” you teased, snatching his chopsticks to steal a bit of his meal. “After all, you’re with me now. If you’re going to take me out, it better be in style.”

You had the audacity to throw a wink at him before walking back to your classroom. You get an eye roll in response, but take great pleasure in the way he had gone red to the tips of his ears, knowing that you’ve won.)

9:31 PM | 2:29:20

“I love you.”

“I know.” Silence. “I love you too.”

“I know.”

11:59 PM | 0:00:59

It’s bright, like a fallen star, all white-hot and angry. You think it’s beautiful in its own way, gawk at it with your mouth hanging open. “Here it is,” he whispers, squeezing your hand so tight it almost hurts. “The end.”

You cup his cheek, turn his head to look at you. You try to steel yourself. Inhale. Exhale. (Your breath comes out shaky, but neither of you acknowledge it.) “I guess this is goodbye.” You were supposed to sound strong, but your voice comes out small, weak, broken.

And for once, he is the first to cry.

“Not yet.” His voice cracks. “It’s not goodbye yet.” He wipes your tears (when did you start crying?) away, touch so fragile you think he’s sure you’d shatter. Maybe you will.

“It doesn’t have to be goodbye,” you offer. It’s hollow; neither of you have been under the delusion that this was anything but. “It can be a see you later.”

Tsukishima just shakes his head, wearing a broken smile of his own. And then he’s kissing you with such fervor that you swear you’ve never been kissed before, not like this. The way he sucks your bottom lip between his, pulls you flush against him, makes you dizzy. This is my goodbye, he says with more than words. 

11:59 PM | 0:00:01

Your relationship has always required mastery of reading between the lines, peering through the hairline cracks in words and actions for their true meaning.

But now, both of you are straightforward as can be, stripped down to your bare selves. The meteor sets fire to the inhibitions and walls both of you created, and the flames lick at your skin as your tears—or his—dampen your cheeks.

If you’re going to take me out, do it in style, you’d said to him, once.

So he does.