Chapter Text
A syringe.
Agar plates.
Tissue biopsies.
Routine. It was all routine for Kei Tsukishima, a clinical laboratory scientist. His days started with blood work, analyzing cells, and ended the same way. Peaceful, just the way he likes it.
Today was not like any other day. Today, a familiar face looked up at Kei from the phlebotomy chair. His spiky, black hair and cat-like black eyes stared back at Kei as if he knew all of his secrets. His red shirt, reminiscent of a past long gone, struck a hidden part of Kei he sought to bury with work.
“Kei, is that you?” The man asked in a husky voice. He flashed his picture perfect smile at Kei, who stood there in disbelief.
He is your patient, Kei. Treat him like anyone else. He thought as he performed hand hygiene. “Yes, I’m Kei Tsukishima. I’ll be drawing your blood today.” He placed on a pair of gloves and fished a pen from his pocket. “First things first, may I ask your full name and date of birth?”
The man let out a hearty laugh which sounded slightly like he was mocking Kei. “Kuroo Tetsurou. November 17, 1994.” Kei’s heart pounded against his chest, both uncomfortable and something he dared not to name.
Kei wiped the venipuncture site with an alcohol prep pad, making no eye contact and small talk at all. He just wanted this to be done and dusted.
“Kei, come on. I won’t bite.” Kuroo teased playfully, but Kei did not reciprocate his joyful expression. Instead, Kei carefully inspected the syringe as normal. “I’ll get your blood now.” Kei said almost robotically. Practiced, perfected, and part of his daily routine.
Routine. That’s what he wants. No more changes, no more surprises, certainly not ones that involve seeing his ex sitting on the phlebotomy chair. This disrupted his peaceful life and Kei wanted none of it.
As Kei pulled the plunger, drawing blood, Kuroo’s gaze never faltered, following Kei’s every movement with such precision it made Kei conscious of his actions.
“Apply pressure on the site for 2-3 minutes.” Kei coldly said, withdrawing the needle and putting a bandaid on the puncture site. He was disposing of the needle when Kuroo grabbed his wrist, the syringe almost falling from his hand.
Kei stiffened as he struggled to pull away from Kuroo’s grasp. “Please let me do my job.” Kei said as he transferred the blood into tubes. “Kei, talk to me. Please?” Kuroo was practically begging now. Kei went silent for a second, as if he was pondering Kuroo’s request. His eyes wandered to Kuroo, a man whose determination was unmatched and is a chaotic person.
Against his better judgment, Kei opens his mouth to respond.
“Wait for me outside after my shift.”
…
Kei checked the time on his watch as he pushed the hospital doors open. It was nearly 7 o’ clock in the evening. He looked at the bustling streets of Tokyo and a figure seated on a bench caught his eye.
Kuroo sat there, cross legged. His red t-shirt was now buried under a black leather jacket, reminding Kei of Nekoma High’s volleyball jersey colors. Kuroo makes eye contact with him and he stands up quickly. Kuroo approaches Kei with the same sly grin that Kei once fell in love with.
“What did you want to talk about?” Kei asked, barely hiding his frustration. Kuroo’s gaze softened and he almost looked sad to hear such words of venom coming from Kei. “I just wanted to catch up with you, you know, after four long years.” Kuroo said, scratching the back of his head.
“There is nothing to catch up on. You have no business being here.” Kei said coldly, and Kuroo imitated a stabbing motion on his chest. Kei turned on his heels and started to leave, but Kuroo pulled the back of his shirt, yanking Kei backwards.
“Wh-” Kei was almost angry now. Kuroo wrinkled his shirt, his well-ironed shirt, and did nothing but waste his precious time. Kei turns to face Kuroo, but the anger almost subsides when he sees a flash of desperation come across Kuroo’s face.
“Give me another chance, I’m begging you.” Kuroo said, basically holding back tears. Kei was stunned into silence. He had never seen Kuroo so vulnerable in the almost eight years of knowing him. This sudden shift in emotions intrigued the uptight Kei, who realized that Kuroo was serious about this.
Kei put his head down, breaking eye contact. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, he managed to croak out a few words. “You hurt me.” Kuroo held his shoulders now, but this time, Kei did not recoil.
“I hurt you.”
“And you expect me to forgive you, just like that?”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“Then…” Kei bit his lips, holding back the tears, the years of resentment, and all the grief he felt before it all came rushing out of him. He inhaled deeply, his face returning into one devoid of emotions.
“Let’s not make a fuss here. Not in front of my workplace.” Kei’s voice goes back into his usual monotone voice. Kuroo’s eyes lit up, full of hope. “Where do you want to go, then?” He asked.
Kei looked down at his hands, still faintly smelling of antiseptic and latex.
Routine had always been enough for him.
He looked back up and there they were again. Kuroo’s eyes were still fixated on him, like they’ve always been. Like it always had.
He swallowed and bit his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.
“Coffee.” he said in a low voice. “Cafe Amore.” Kuroo nodded, his sly smile sneaked back on his face.
And just like that, Kei’s peaceful routine was shattered in one night.