Tsukishima sought you out the next day to return the container you'd given him for the shortcake. Yamaguchi was with you at the time, engaging in a very brief and awkward exchange with his former friend. Neverthless, you couldn't help but note how Kei seemed much more relaxed around you now - not on edge or constantly throwing up his guard, like he used to do.

"Hey, I'll catch you after school, okay?" You promised as he made to leave, stepping in his way. You peered down at you with an unassuming frown, nodded, then circled around you, his bag thudding heavily against his thigh.

Yamaguchi clasped his hands together, watching the tall blond leave. "You're actually getting somewhere, [Y/N]-San!"

You mirrored his smile, giving his shoulder a playful nudge. "We're getting somewhere," you corrected him, chuckling as his freckles began to darken under his blush. "We never would've got this far had you not chased after me that day, y'know. Fate has a funny way of seeing things through."

The brunet pondered your words with a distracted pout. "I guess you're right. I just... I want things to go back to how they were. When I could actually call him a friend."

You smiled sadly at your feet, kicking up small plumes of dirt with the toe of your shoe. "We're getting there, Yamaguchi-Kun. Don't give up yet."

"Oh no - I have no intention of giving up anytime soon," he confirmed, eyes crinkling with a gritted smile. "I made a promise, and I'm going to keep it."

----

"Oh, hey Tsukki," you blurted later that day, bumping into him as you rounded the corner sharply, hoping you weren't too late for lesson. The nickname had slipped out involuntarily, but he didn't seem to notice - or mind. "You headed to class now?"

He nodded wordlessly, his hands sitting tense over his bag as a few students sent you derisive stares, snickering under their breath. Freak, abuser, weirdos - just a few snatches of the words floating around you. You brushed them off easily. "They're ignorant and not even worth thinking about," you muttered, stumbling over yourself to keep up with his loping strides. His posture loosened as he took in your words. "I'm off to art now. How about you?"

"Mathematics," he said simply, and you lapsed into silence. He fidgeted with his hands, scowling. "So, uhm, you never did tell me... why you did that drawing of me. The real reason." His sudden question took you by surprise, making your cheeks burn.

You deflected your glance away, scratching at your head to stall for time. "Uh, I forgot," you said pathetically. Did you have to have a reason?

"Liar. Although... itwasprettygood." The latter half came out as an unintelligible splurge of words that left the two of you with pink hues dancing on your cheeks. "Uh, I need to go this way. Bye."

"Oh, okay, see you later."

You watched him stumble away with an unexpected tremor in your chest - a slight exaltation of the heart, like fireworks getting ready to ignite the sky - before taking your leave to your own lesson.

As soon as you fell into your seat, you let your emotions unwind into a new piece. Your focus today was on facial construction and features, and you had the perfect model, still lingering on the forefront of your mind, that drove your tools with little trouble on your part.

Sensei applauded your work as she swept over, remarking how much you'd improved after finding your apparent 'muse'. If she was referring to Tsukishima, you couldn't deny it. The pen flowed seamlessly when you drew him, a jigsaw that fixed itself, with but a little nudge from you. The lines fastened into a rough but dramatic outline, golden eyes embedded in a face of monochromatic shading. Beside the sketch was inspiration drawn from another model; freckled cheeks that created the effect of a sky full of constellations, complemented by the curved lips of the moon. Even you couldn't deny how good it had turned out.

Toward the lesson's denouement, with lead shaving somehow tangled in your hair and your fingers chafed from hasty sketching, you approached Sensei's desk once again, tentative smiles abound.

"How can I help you today, [Y/N]-San?"

You tugged mindlessly at a smudge of ink in your hair. "That portrait of mine displayed on the wall outside - I was wondering if I could take it home. My mother would really love to see it," you lied easily, not quite lifting your gaze enough to meet hers.

"Of course. It's a shame to see it go, but I'll take it down," she agreed, pushing up from her chair. "Though I'd love to display another of your work in its stead."

You waited patiently for her return, fiddling with the sleeve of your blouse. "Oh, thank you very much, Sensei," you said with a bow, taking the portrait from her hand. A few students craned round to glimpse the drawing, but you held it close to your chest, away from unwanted eyes.

Returning to your seat, you smoothed the page out across the table and ran your fingers over the bumpy outlines of Kei's face. This was what had started it all, and you had no doubt it would always be a favourite of yours.

Taking up your tools, you dabbed fresh ink to the surface and traced the faded outline, adding thickness and curves to the places deemed appropriate, fixing up the lines that had previously made it clunky and rushed. Once you had lightened the shading and patched in those brilliant golden eyes, you scribbled a quick note in the corner and rolled it up carefully. The other students had mostly drained from the class by now, leaving you and a few other dedicated artists.

"Thanks, again, Sensei. See you tomorrow!"

You rushed out of the room with your mind in a whir, half-jogging, half-stumbling over your own feet as you raced to intercept the blonde before he left without you. "Tsuki-huff-shima!" You wheezed, throwing out a hand to tug on his sleeve. He stumbled back, eyes flashing darkly. "Sorry."

"Uhm, okay," he muttered to himself, lifting his gaze from yours with a sigh. Without further comment, he started walking. You trailed after him, reprimanding yourself with a tingling blush.

Sliding the rolled up document out of your bag, you waved it in front of his face without preamble, biting hard on your lip to impede any stupid comment. Instead, you stared at him, expectant. 

You thought you saw his cheeks darken slightly as he took it from your hand, but it might just have been a trick of the light. His scowl eased off as he unrolled it. "I, uh, thought you might like to keep it. It's actually one of my favourite pieces so..." you trailed off, unable to find the words that described your intentions. "I hope it... uhm, reminds you that... you're not alone and stuff, y'know."

Although his lips remained pursed in a thin line, his eyes told a different story. A story of suppressed gratitude and reprieve. The feelings that ricocheted through your chest were unrivalled, profound, unlike anything you'd felt before. You were touched to be a part of this moment.

You both stood in silence for a few minutes, Kei admiring the portrait, you admiring him. 

"Are you sure?" He asked sheepishly, not quite meeting your gaze, his gilded eyes studying something over your shoulder instead. You smiled and nodded and began walking off again, blood pounding against your eardrums like drums in a war parade, making you feel jittery with nerves and excitement.

You ended up walking in a reflective silence most of the way, and you had to wonder what had riveted this boy's mind so much that he narrowly avoided collision with a lamppost - after which he seemed to pay more attention to his surroundings with a paranoid scowl.

You were amazed by how things had changed between you since the night he'd confessed he didn't hate you. It was as if he too had finally come to terms with that and decided to treat you differently in way of recognition. 

"Uhm, aren't you supposed to walk that way?" He said suddenly, drawing you out of your thoughts. You glanced about and realised you'd followed him down the side-street from which you usually parted ways.

You gave a nonchalant shrug and gestured for him to keep walking. More silence. Birds glided overhead in jets of black and brown, smudges against the sky, skittering shapes on rooftops.

"Uh, thanks again for the picture," he muttered reluctantly as you stopped outside his house. You rocked back on your heel, smiling at the ground. "I-"

"Kei. You're late."

Your stomach lurched sharply, that apprehension resurfacing. Tsukishima visibly froze, his eyes filling with a dark haze, jaw set at a crooked angle. You could feel the dread emanate from him in thick, gut-wrenching waves. Your eyes slipped over Kei's tensed shoulders, to the woman silhouetted against the doorway. Thin and tall, you could see the resemblance between her and her son, but not the love. Her eyes were dark and cold, seething, a dark brown that almost looked black.

"Get in. Now." Her voice was a whip, lashing Kei's the open wounds. He pressed his chin against his chest and hurried away without a word, your lungs having trouble filling with enough oxygen. You let out a strangled cry as she raised a hand and striked her son across the cheek.

"Kei!"

"Scram, kid. My son is none of your fucking business."

You rushed forward regardless, red clouding your vision. "Kei, what the hell?!"

He jerked forward and caught your shoulder, his eyes sharpened to a point. "Get out of here, [Y/N]." His mother sneered behind him, shifting her weight. You ignored her.

"What? Like hell I will. This place is toxic and you need to leave-"

"No. You need to leave," he corrected you, pushing you back. "I'm being serious, [Y/N]. Get out of here." His eyes turned pleading then. "Please. If you stay you'll get hurt."

"But so will you," you muttered feebly, staggering back as he gave you another weak shove. With one last look - a look so harrowing and helpless it made your heart cry out - he retreated inside and slammed the door shut.