Google leads me to believe that Japanese street artists often show their art live, performance-art style. If that’s wrong, apologies! I’m not researching more than that for a 15-minute fic, though. ~700 words, Yamaguchi is a semi-anonymous street artist, Tsukishima is his fanboy. Time for a meet-cute!

All fills on my tsukkiyama month tag.

–

Red ropes were squared off near a section of grey wall, chairs set up just beyond the ropes. The night was chilly and Tsukishima’s jacket wasn’t nearly warm enough, but he didn’t care. He’d been following 12’s art for a while now, whenever a new installation showed up in the area. And now Tsukishima had proof miracles really did come true. One night when they were leaving university practice, Tsukishima stopped dead in the street to look at 12’s newest piece, making Kageyama run directly into his back. And miracle of miracles, Kageyama both remembered that later and pulled strings with some pro-scouts to get Tsukishima a ticket. 12 was popular, famous even, and no mere mortals had access to his work. Tsukishima couldn’t even begin to decide how to work off that debt.

“What do I owe you?” Tsukishima had asked, staring down at the ticket in his hands in disbelief.

“Nothing,” Kageyama said. Then he smiled his terrifying smile. “A thank you is enough.”

And so Tsukishima had gritted his teeth and managed to grind out a muttered thank you, even though it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life. But it was all worth it when 12 emerged from the shadows.

12 was probably about Tsukishima’s age, tall, lanky, with hair that had one stubborn piece that stood up in the back. A mask covered the lower half of his face, but he had nice eyes and bowed politely to the small crowd before getting to work.

And seeing him work was a beautiful thing. Tsukishima watched with interest as 12 switched out can after can of spray paint, layering on lines until a picture started to form. The piece was a man facing the ocean, a giant wave about to crash into him. But there was nothing scared about the man’s form; instead, it was open, welcoming, like he and the water were destined to meet.

When 12 finally tagged the piece and turned around to bow again, the crowd clapped politely and started to disperse, but Tsukishima was stunned and found himself breathless. He remained the last one seated, but he barely even noticed, unable to tear his eyes away from the man’s back. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling as brave as the graffiti’s subject seemed to be, and he felt amazed he got this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Tsukishima was finally starting to shake off the haze and get back his bearings when someone sat down next to him.

“Are you okay?” the person asked. “Everyone’s gone, you know.”

“Thanks, Professor Obvious,” Tsukishima shot back automatically. “I thought I was in a crowded subway car until you pointed that out.”

The person laughed hard at that, and that unexpected reaction was enough that Tsukishima finally tore his eyes away from 12’s art and looked over. Then he startled — lanky guy, about Tsukishima’s age, hair with one stubborn piece that stood straight up. And, now without the mask obscuring his face, Tsukishima knew that the famous street artist 12 had the cutest freckles imaginable dotting his cheeks and nose.

“I noticed you during the performance,” 12 said. “Most people just want tickets to say they got tickets. But you – you really watched, didn’t you?”

Tsukishima swallowed and nodded, then croaked out, “I’ve been following your work for months, but this is the best thing I’ve seen from you.”

12 grinned widely at that. “I had no idea I had such hot fanboys,” he said and grinned wider when Tsukishima blinked at him and felt his face grow suddenly warm. “What’s your name?”

“Tsukishima Kei.” Then, Tsukishima sat up straight in his seat and said boldly, “What’s yours?” Maybe he did have some bravery in him.

“Yamaguchi Tadashi,” 12 – Yamaguchi – said automatically, then looked astonished that he’d given his real name so freely. “Uh. Don’t let that get out.”

“I won’t,” Tsukishima promised. “Especially if you want to get coffee with me now.”

Yamaguchi looked delighted. “Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

Tsukishima really hated that this meant he’d be forever in Kageyama’s debt, but somehow, he thought it might all be worth it.