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darubyprincx · 10 months
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if anyone ever finds a way to legit cheat death then my money's on ao3 authors being the ones who do
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littleogreboii · 5 months
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i see a lot of people talk about edward being disabled in fma, but it's less often talked about how alphonse is also disabled. i think it's partially because alphonse doesn't experience physical pain like edward so for a majority of the series, he's not having any of those kind of symptoms, but he is still disabled. also because alphonse's experiences are unique. like you don't see ant walking, talking suits of armour in real life (unless they're piloted by a human being physically inside them) and in world, there are about 3 others like alphonse).
alphonse is dependent on edward's survival to function. after fighting scar for the first time, alphonse is literally in pieces. he can't walk or anything until edward is in a position to fix him. similarly his body is dependent on nutrients from edward's body. like there's the point towards the end where edward gets impaled and alphonse collapses. furthermore, these periods where alphonse collapses start to become debilitating towards the end of the series and massively alter his daily living.
also, alphonse constantly talks about how upsetting it is for him to not feel any physical sensations. yeah, he's not feeling physical pain, but he's also not feeling the warmth of a fire, the sun on his face, or the fluffiness of the cats he keeps petting. he talks a lot about not being able to eat or sleep, and how there's a lot of foods he wants to try.
there's another thing that highlighted by edward at one point. alphonse's body doesn't regenerate at all. the parts scar destroys are gone forever; edward stretches out the metal that alphonse has left to repair his body. and obviously human beings don't regrow limbs, but imagine if your skin didn't ever heal over a cut. how long would your body last?
also alphonse gets told several times that his body is great throughout the series, and he literally argues against it every time, because to him it is shit. like he is missing some of his senses just for some supposedly immortal body that isn't even immortal.
even once alphonse gets his own body back, the amount of physical therapy the boy has to go through. his body has essentially been doing nothing and only receiving what nutrients it can get from edward for years. by the end of the series, he's still using a cane as a walking aid. it's unknown whether he requires that cane for the years to come, but for at least a period of time he requires a mobility aid. I don't know enough to say what effect muscle decay from inactivity and severe malnourishment during a major portion of his teenage years would have long term.
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kittysauce · 6 months
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au where L and Light fall in love during the yotsuba arc ............... i think its a crazy interesting concept
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got a worm nibbling my brain. can someone help me find a piece of obscure media?
webcomic/indie comic from the 2010s. basically a sci-fi short story about a young girl (with red hair?) who was being raised by scientists as part of an experiment. she receives a haircut/has her head shaved, in preparation for her annual brain scan/testing. it is revealed that while her body is human, her "brain" is artificial, made of computer implants throughout her skull and spine. at some point her biological mother (also a scientist on the same campus?) encounters her and is repulsed, viewing her as a machine who has murdered her daughter.
it was very poignant and it bruised my heart and i can NOT find it anywhere
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gluttonybiscuits · 1 month
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Things Lucifer Morningstar might say while having sex with you
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Content warnings: NSFW under the cut so MINORS and AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT, female pronouns used for reader, AFAB reader, established relationship, swearing, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, oral [male & female receiving], face sitting, Lucifer being a very prideful man [duh], not beta-read
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"Ohhhh fuck yes darling, fuck—! Doing so well for me, mmh!"
"Don't get shy on me now, princess. Where'd that bratty mouth of yours go, hm?"
"You look so fucking good right now, darling. So gorgeous riding this fat fucking cock— oh fuck! Mm, you gotta stop squeezin' me like that, heh."
"Fuckfuckfuckfffuuckk! Oh god, yeah keep sucking, darling! Don't stop, please pleasepleaseee mmh—!"
"Mmhm? Right here? Yeah I know, I felt that shiver! Am I making you feel that good, princess? Yeah?"
"Yeah you like me being rough with you, huh? Tell me, sweetheart— mm fuck, tell daddy how much you love his cock."
"Give me your legs, sweetheart. Good girl, so eager for me."
"So fucking pretty, so gorgeous! Oh god, yeah scream my fucking name sweetheart! Louder darling— fuck I'm close! Please let me cum inside pleasepleasepleaseplease god I'm so fucking close—!"
"Your pussy was made for me, I swear. Mmh, yeah I know my sweet girl is close. Come on, cum on my tongue for me. Be good for daddy, yeah? Tastes so fucking sweet."
"Did so well for me, my love. But don't think I'm done with you juuuust yet, hehe."
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uravitypng · 1 year
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tsukishima lets you take some kind of control, just this once. you're bouncing on his cock and he's hitting all the right places. tsukishima's got his hands on your hips just looking up at you taking in the way you move. how your stomach jiggles and your thighs are slightly shaking, how you're out of breath and how loud you're moaning. it's a shame you have no neighbours, everyone should know how good he makes you feel. he wraps one of his hands around your soft neck, applying slight pressure, you clench up at the feeling, making him groan.
it's all getting to much much for tsukishima, you feel so good and so warm but you're going too slow, it's infuriating. tightly putting both his hands back on your love handles, he starts lifting you up and down on his cock. he's trusting upwards the same time too, keeping the rhythm.
you always tend to forget how strong tsukishima really is and right now he's proving it as he's using you as some kind of glorified sex toy, pounding into you however he wants and using your body to get himself off. "you were being too slow. fuck." he groans, staring at your breasts as they move along with his thrusts. your moans get even louder, chanting his name over and over again in a whiny voice. "make yourself useful slut and touch yourself," you immediately obey as you bring your hands up to nipples and start touching them and pinching them. tsukishima smirks up at you, taking in all your beauty, taking in how you always listen to him.
it felt good to control the pace of sex but this feels better. plus your thighs were starting to get tired.
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5 times you took care of the 141st, and one time they took care of you
Happy (late) holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy this piece!
Platonic!141st x medic!reader
Warning: Canon typical violence, minor angst, hurt/comfort, medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies, very minor gore, hospital type settings, minor illness, fainting, brief mentions of vomiting, cursing.
1st
“Need a medic stat!”
You rushed through the battle ground, attempting to make your way to the other side of it. This was made extremely difficult by the large chunks of rubble scattered about, oh and the fact they are at least a dozen people shooting at you.
“Stitch!!”
“Soap I’m on my way, apply pressure I’ll be there soon!” You panted, vaulting over some rubble and sliding to cover to prevent getting shot yourself.
The mission had gone to shit extremely quickly. You were just supposed to get the information and get out, stick together and move quickly. You all were not anticipating bombs being dropped on your heads from enemy aircrafts.
They had scattered you all quickly, as each of you attempted to avoid being hit. It seemed as that was their plan because as soon as you all were split up enemy soldiers surrounded you out of nowhere.
Price has called for an evac, but the lack of non blown up landmarks made it difficult to regroup.
You fired off a few shots into the smoke, praying they found their mark, and took off once more.
Going over and under rubble, left and right, in and out, it felt like you were never going to reach Soap.
Just as you were about to start violently cursing the gods for the situation you were in you saw Soap a few hundred yards off from you. To your surprise he looked to be in alright shape, the lump next to him however you couldn’t say the same for.
“Soap I have visual on you, what’s the situation?”
“The situation is Gaz is bloody shot!!”
Cursing under your breath you moved from your cover once more. Keeping low to the ground, more crawling than running at times, you finally made your way to Soap and Gaz.
Sliding in next to them you got to work. Looking Gaz over, you immediately started treating the biggest and most obvious problem, the bullet wound in his stomach.
Soap had tried his best to stop the bleeding, that much was clear from the soaked gauze packed into the wound, but with the need to return fire he couldn’t keep up with it.
You applied heavy pressure on it, praying that’s enough to keep him alive until he can get to a hospital.
“Price where the hell is that damn evac?!”
“3 minutes out, landing in what used to be the hospital parking lot. I’ve got Ghost with me what’s your status?”
“Me and Soap are alright, Gaz has been shot and is loosing blood fast he needs to get out of here asap!”
“We need to move!” Soap yells at you over his shoulder from where he’s returning fire at the enemy.
You act fast, harshly rubbing Gaz’s sternum to wake him up.
His eyes barely peak open, “Stitchy? What’s goin’ on?” He sounds drunk, which with how much blood he’s lost doesn’t surprise you.
“Hey, hey buddy, stay awake, your badly hurt we need to move.” You chirp, trying to keep your voice light despite the situation. “How you feelin’ bud? Can you talk to me?”
As you speak you rummage through your pocket, sighing in relief when you find what you were looking for, a stim shot and some pain relief.
Gaz had nodded off again in the brief time you weren’t speaking, and you lean in again to speak to him. “Gaz!! Come one buddy, keep your damn eyes open!”
“Stitch!” Soap calls from behind your back, the urgency in his voice can not be ignored.
“I know!” Deciding that you don’t have time to wake him up, you quickly stab the stim shot into his thigh.
That wakes up Gaz with a start. He flinches in pain, his eyes now wide open.
“Welcome back to the world buddy!” You shout at him, quickly injecting him with pain relief and tightening the sloppy bandage around his midsection one last time.
“Soap! Ready to move!” You call to him, hauling Gaz’s arm and part of his body, over your shoulder.
Soap leads the way, ducking behind rubble and returning fire when he can. You both move as quickly as you can, you would be lying if you said you weren’t struggling to keep up. Gaz was already fairly heavy, he also has all his gear on him which did not help your situation at all.
You were falling a bit behind Soap, but you kept hauling both you and Gaz towards him as fast as you could.
You were not going to let either of you die out here.
Finally you both reach the evac sight. Laying eyes on Price and Ghost you feel like you can breath again.
You run up next to where they’re positioned behind a large chunk of rubble. Laying Gaz down with his back to it you go to check his bandages again.
When you glance up to his face you notice that he’s awake. “How ya feelin’ bud?” You shout over the sound of gunfire, applying more pressure to his bleeding wound.
“Like shit.” He quips back.
You struggled to hear him over the sound of gunfire, but you were glad that he was conscious enough to talk to you and process what your saying.
Finally, fucking finally, your hear the sound of what might as well be the holy grail.
The heli lands about 20 yards away from you, cruising down to the ground, before it’s even landed Price is yelling orders.
“Stitch and Gaz move first, the rest of us will cover you from behind!”
You throw Gaz’s arm back over your shoulder and haul him onto his feet, thankfully he’s now awake enough that he can help you instead of you dragging him. Once you reach the heli you throw the top half of his body in, causing him to wince in pain.
“Sorry bud!” You shout over the noise of the chopper, pulling him the rest of the way in. You lean over him, securing him inside the chopper, then lifting up his shirt to check and make sure his bandages are still tight. Thankfully the bleeding has slowed down enough where there is minimal blood visibility through the bandage which makes you breath a sigh of relief.
You feel the heli taking off and you glance over your shoulder to make sure all your boys got onboard in one piece.
“Any other injuries I should know about?” You shout over the sound of the Heli.
“Your gonna have some if you don’t bloody sit down and secure yourself!” Price yells back at you.
You back off sitting yourself down next to Gaz. He was still hurt badly, but at least now he was as stable as you could get him.
All things said?
That was a shit show.
2nd
You hummed as you fluttered around the med bay busily. Moving from one spot to the other, carefully taking inventory with your trusty clipboard in hand.
You were truly in your element, everything was calm, orderly, and you were free to just do your job without any interruptions.
The door to the infirmary swung open, hitting the wall with a bang! In came Ghost, dragging a whining Soap behind him.
Ghost looked seriously pissed off, his eyebrows were noticeably furrowed under his balaclava and his shoulders were hunched. If you were to rely on context clues the only reason Soap was here was because of Ghost’s firm grip on his bicep.
“Can I help you?” You ask, face completely dead-pan.
Ghost doesn’t respond, just roughly pushes Soap towards you. Now that you have a better look at him you can see that his shoulder looks… wrong to say the least.
“What did you do this time?” You sigh, walking over to grab Soap by his ear.
“Owww” Soap whines “Sure! Pick on the injured person why don’t ya?”
“How do you always get injured at base but never on missions?” You taunt, pulling Soap over to the nearest available gurney.
You gesture for him to sit down on the bed, and when you turn around you notice Ghost, still standing where you left him.
“Either sit down or leave Ghost, there’s no lurking in my medical bay.” You say, grabbing what you need to treat Soap.
Returning to Soap you gently push him down on his non-injured shoulder. “Y’know if you wanted me like this you could’ve just asked.” Soap taunts with a wink, prompting you to sigh.
Thankfully he’s in a tank top or you would have to cut off his shirt, you know from personal experience with treating him that when you have to do that he makes plenty of comments.
“Alright, this is probably gonna hurt like a bitch, don’t punch me.” You say as you put Soaps arm in the proper position for realignment.
“Wouldn’t dream of it la- OW WHAT THE FUCK.”
“All done” you quip, pulling off your gloves. You look back over your shoulder to see Ghost has moved to the foot of the gurney.
“What were you two even doing?” You ask, putting your supplies away and getting different ones out.
“Fuckin” “Sparing” They say at the same time.
You should’ve know better than to ask.
3rd
You can’t believe this. You can’t believe your boys. You knew they could be stupid sometimes but this is next level!
Thankfully most of them had gotten away with minor injuries, and somehow you had gotten out without a scratch, despite not even knowing the plan before they decided to execute it.
Soap and Ghost had only bumps and bruises, somehow, considering they were in the thick of their stupid plan. Gaz had a few scrapes and a sprained ankle, but you patched him up then set him off with a crutch and a promise to go easy on it. And the captain? You don’t even know how he managed it considering he’s supposed to be the smart one, but he broke his leg.
So now you are in the med bay, essentially holding your own captain hostage (not like he could get very far if he did decide to run off).
He is not a good patient. None of your boys are. He complains about being there, says how he wants to leave and how he wishes he could do things for himself. You understand that, but the best thing for him at the moment is rest, and he seems adamant on not taking it.
“Stitch”
“If you ask me if you can leave again I’m smacking you.” You say while walking over to him.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way for me to go get food is there?” He asks, looking far to innocent for his own good. He’s planning something. You just know it.
“I’ll call one of the boys to bring you something up.” You quip, already walking away, intent on y’know, doing your job.
“Stitch” You hear him call as soon as you walk away.
“Yes sir?” You question, turning around to stare him dead in the eyes.
“How long until I get out of this hell hole?”
“Until your leg heals or you get put on leave.”
“Leave?” He sounds actually startled at that proposition, prompting you to walk closer to him.
“Just for a few months sir, until your leg heals.” You soothe. As quick as the startled look in his eyes appeared it was gone. Masked down under his cool captain facade.
“You can have a few months of uninterrupted down time with your husband. Doesn’t that sound nice?” You ask, walking over to stand next to him, setting your hand on the knee of his uninjured leg.
“Have you met yourselves? You all will get killed without me here!” He exclaims, running a hand through his beard in exasperation.
“You’re one to talk sir.” You say deadpan. “Trust me the boys will be fine. They will be better off without you for a few months than they will be if they see you constantly cooped up in here.”
“Stitch, nothing good can possibly come from me not being here!”
“Sir,” you quip as you sit on the side of his gurney, “you need to give them more credit. They’re smart, strong, soldiers, and if you order them to they’ll hold themselves together until you return.”
“You think they can’t behave unless their ordered?” Price smirks.
“What can I say, I know them to well.”
“Hard to argue with that.”
4th
You woke up to a thudding in your head.
Thud, thud, thud.
Thud, thud, knock.
Knock, knock, knock.
As you come to, your groggy self realizes that loud, obtrusive noise is not coming from within your head, but outside it. You go to answer the door, (tripping over your blankets on the floor in the process) and find Ghost standing behind it.
You realize with a start that he’s in civvies, and has replaced his balaclava with a simple black face mask. While this should’ve been expected, it still comes as a surprise to you. They look unnatural on him.
“Ghost? What are you doing here?” You ask, trying not to scream on account of it being 3 am.
He nudges you to the side, walking in so you can close the door, and it’s then that you notice that his black shirt is getting even darker with blood.
“Ghost, what the fuck.” You sigh, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards your couch. “Stay here, I’ll be right back with first aid.”
You run to the bathroom, fling open the cabinet under the sink to grab the first aid kit and run back.
“If you ran like that during missions we might have to cover you less.” Ghost muttered.
“Oh shut up, what did you even DO.” You ask, pulling up his shirt with a pad of gauze ready in your other hand to staunch the bleeding.
You find the culprit quickly, a long but shallow gash along his side. It would need stitches, but thankfully you could do that here.
“How’s it look doc?” He mumbles, barely legible.
“You’ll be fine after some stitches but how did you even do this? We’re on leave.” You question, absolutely exasperated. You all were on leave and you still couldn’t catch a break from your idiot boys.
His response is mearly to grunt and look away from you.
“Alright then, well I’ll go ahead and clean it up for you alright?” You mutter.
You go through the motions, this is something you’ve done a million times. Clean, antiseptic, stitches, bandage, done.
As your putting everything away you notice Ghost is staring at the floor, and something about him feels… off.
As you go to put the first aid kit away you nudge his foot with yours, “You feelin’ alright bud? You can stay the night if you need.”
“‘M fine” he mutters, still not making eye contact.
“Wow that was convincing.” You dead pan as you walk away from him to go put up your first aid kit.
When you return to his side you gently rest your hand on his shoulder and say, “Listen, I don’t know what happened but you can stay here as long as you need. I gave you all this address for emergencies after all.”
He eyes you, before reaching up to your hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze, “Thanks Stitch”.
“Anytime.”
5th
You are starting to believe you’ve done something to piss off the gods.
You have just gotten back from leave and already the rest of your task force is sick. It started with Soap, who had come back to base with it, except he insisted it was nothing and went about training like he normally does. Him refusing to rest like you told him to led to him getting Ghost sick, not a surprise with how much they… “hang out.”
Next was Gaz, who despite you telling him not to, was adamant about treating them. When he inevitably fell to the illness he went whining about it to Price, who despite his best efforts, still got it. You suspect if he hadn’t still been trying to get his leg back to what it was before he broke it he could’ve outran him.
And then there was you. The sole survivor.
For some reason all of them had decided to wallow in your room, something about Soap insisting it had “healing properties” because your a medic. You told him to get out. He didn’t listen.
Gaz had curled up in your bed, Price had taken the couch, Soap curled up in your arm chair, and Ghost took the rug.
You were going to do so much cleaning once you managed to get these fuckers out.
But for now, you had to be in medic mode. So you went in. Armed with a face mask, gloves, everything antiseptic you could get your hands on, you started your plan: get the sick bastards out of my room.
The first step was making them feel better, so you decided on a classic sick food; chicken noodle soup.
You pushed the door to your room open with your back, on account of you carrying a heavy tray with 4 bowls of soup.
“Hiya boys, how are you feeling?” You chirped, setting the tray down on your desk. “I brought dinner if your feeling up to it.”
Much to your amusement Soaps head immediately shot up at the promise of food. “What did ya bring?” He rasped, the poor thing had lost most of his voice when he got ill and he was only now starting to get it back.
“Chicken noodle soup, although I’m not sure the bastard who started this whole mess should get any.” You quipped, even though you were actively handing him a bowl.
“Thank ya kindly.” He mumbled as he took the bowl from you. As far as your boys went Soap was the closest to looking like his regular self. Yes he didn’t have much of a voice, and his energy was way down from normal, but he was the least pale, and obviously the one with the most appetite.
“Anybody else want any?” You asked, glancing about your room turned sick bay.
From the corner of your room you saw Price weakly raise his hand from the couch. “Geez dramatic much?” You snorted out a laugh while handing him his bowl.
“Don’t bully the ill Stitch.” Gaz huffs from your bed.
“Your in my room, I’ll bully as much as I please.” You huffed “Now do you want soup?”
You saw Gaz lift his head to look at the soup questioningly before shrugging and nodding yes.
Once you had one bowl of soup left you looked down at the dark puddle on your rug. “Ghost, dinner time.” You chirped.
“Leave me to my death.” He moaned back at you.
“Oh you’re hardly dying, here sit up and eat something you’ll feel better.” As you spoke you gently crouched down to him and started repeatedly poking him on the shoulder.
“What do you want you heathen” he muttered as he finally sat up, only to have a bowl of soup forced into his hands.
“Eat.” You said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care.”
Reluctantly Ghost pulled up his mask to his nose and began to eat his soup, with everyone fed you looked around to see if anyone was done.
Like you expected, Soap was already done and Gaz was about 2/3 of the way through his. Time for step 2, probably the hardest part: Medicine.
You walked over to your desk and looked through the bag you’d brought in with the tray. You were muttering curses under your breath when you finally found it. A bottle of NyQuil. Not only will it help their colds, it’ll also knock them out so you won’t have to deal with them! Win win! Looking over at Soap you decided he would be your first target.
Loading up a spoon with the liquid you carefully step over to Soap, trying to not set off any of his alarm bells.
“Can I take your bowl?” You ask him, making sure to have a normal tone that doesn’t give away your true intentions.
“Sure, thank ya.” He rasped handing you his bowl. Before he could fully take his hand off the bowl you whisked the bowl away and shoved the spoonful of medicine into his hand.
He stared at the spoon like it was poison, “Stitch, what IS this?” He questioned.
“Medicine.” You quipped back. “It’ll make you feel better. Maybe if you take it you can insist on training again to go infect more people.”
Soap let out a raspy groan, but despite his previous complaint he swallowed the medicine, making a comical face after tasting it, and handed the spoon back to you.
Your next, “victims” as you choose to call them, didn’t put up much of a fight.
Gaz didn’t complain once he realized you weren’t leaving him alone until he took it, and Price took it without a word. Overall, a pretty positive experience. Your next challenger however would be much more difficult.
You eye up Ghost, and decide at this point attempting to be stealthy is pointless, he’s already seen you carry out your plan, and thus you approach him with your ammo loaded spoon fearlessly.
“No.” He groans, voice muffled from how he’s laying face first in your rug.
“Ghost, it’ll make you feel better.” You try, but the mountain man simply acts as if he didn’t hear you. You start repeatedly nudging him with your foot, over and over and over again until finally he picks his head up to look at you.
You can’t see much of him because of the mask, but from what you can see his eyes are much more puffy and red than normal, and anyone could notice the subtle rasp to his voice that’s not normally there.
“You need to take the medicine.” You spoke calmly, like you were talking to a cranky toddler. “It’ll make you feel better. Plus everyone else already took theirs.”
“Well they’re weak.” He groaned, and yet he still snatched the spoon from you, shoved the medicine in his mouth, and then threw it back at you.
“Dramatic much.” You whispered to yourself, getting up to put everything away.
If there’s one thing you got from this experience it’s this:
You work with literal children.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1st
You felt like shit.
Not that you plan on letting that fact be known.
You’ve been attempting to put on some blush and concealer for the last 30 minutes in an attempt to make yourself look more alive. Your only responsibility today is a meeting to discuss your next mission so while it’s technically against dress code you don’t think anyone will notice, or if they do notice you doubt they will care.
Your body however seems to be stubbornly rebelling against your master plan to seem healthy. Your attempts to stand at your desk and put on makeup keep being thwarted as your head pounds any time you stand up and your vision blurs.
Despite your bodies valiant attempts to incapacitate you, you did manage to get your makeup on, put your clothes on, and get out the door.
Once you hobbled your way into the meeting room you saw that everyone was already there, as you took much longer than expected getting ready, which led to you being late.
“Damn Stitch you look… rough.” Gaz commented with a wince.
“Shut it.” You muttered, your voice already half gone.
When you woke up this morning you knew you were in for a hell of a week. You throat hurt like hell, and your voice was nearly gone. You kept coughing and sneezing and your head hurt horribly. All the same symptoms of what your boys had.
Despite your best efforts to get them out they had ended up staying for nearly a week. Soap left after about 2 days of rest, as he had it before the chaos started, but even with their ring leader gone the rest stayed put, with little signs of recovery. Due to this, your constant cleaning in between bouts of caring for them was futile, and 2 days after they recovered, it seems the inevitable happened. You caught it.
You sat with a thud in your normal seat next to Gaz, nodding at Price. “Sorry I’m late sir.” You grunted, barely able to get the words out.
“Are you feelin’ alright?” He asked, eyes narrowed at you suspiciously.
“Never better.” You lied.
Price was still eyeing you with suspicion, but he turned to begin the meeting anyway.
Nothing much of note happened during the meeting, except the fact that Gaz kept giving you looks of increasing concern, and every time you let out a muffled cough Ghost gave you a death stare. Soap looked at you more than Price for the whole meeting, despite him getting told off numerous times.
At the end of the meeting you moved to get up to retreat to your room, but as soon as you rose your head started spinning aggressively, the world blurred into one large mass of color, and then black.
~
You woke up with a start. Sitting up and immediately backing into the nearest corner you assessed your surroundings.
You were in your room, and the lack of light coming through the window let you know it was night. You must have slept a while as it was still morning when your meeting ended. Upon feeling a weight tighten on your waist you looked down and felt your cheeks grow warm.
Gaz was curled up right next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist. He was sleeping peacefully next to you, his body curled slightly. You thought it safe to assume he was curled around you until you shot up.
Looking around the room you saw the rest of your boys spread around. Ghost was lying peacefully on your rug (honestly you found his obsession with it a little concerning), with Soap half on top of him. Price was laying on your couch with his god-awful hat on his face, presumably to block out the nonexistent light.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a bout of violent coughing. Your lungs felt like stress balls as they were squeezed under the muscles of your chest, and in one violent motion you swung yourself out of bed and rushed towards the bathroom.
As you emptied your stomach contents into the toilet bowl you felt someone wipe away the sweat on your forehead and crouch down next to you.
“That’s it, get it all out.” You heard Soap mumble next to you.
As your stomach finished emptying itself and you spat into the toilet into an attempt to get the taste out of your mouth Soap gently leaned over to wipe your mouth for you.
You sat back on your haunches with your eyes closed, breathing heavily. You creaked your eyes when you heard multiple pairs of footsteps quickly approaching the door.
Ghost stood directly behind Soap, looking at you with poorly masked concern. Next to him, with a death grip on his elbow, was Gaz, who was not even trying to mask his concern at your state. Behind both of them peered Price, and while he displayed a glare on his face, you knew him well enough to know that was his way of showing concern.
“Respectfully Stitch, what the fuck?” Soap gently said next to you.
Instead of actually responding like all of your years of training and experience are screaming at you to do, your emotions take over and you start violently sobbing.
You feel miserable. You head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton, your throat is on fire, all your limbs feel weighed down with lead, you can’t even stay awake long enough to walk to your own room and now your emotional state is such shit your violently crying in front of all of your boys.
The first one to react is Soap, who instantly tightly pulls you into a hug. The next is Gaz, who rushed over to tackle you- gently! In a hug. Price awkwardly walked over to sling an arm around you as well, and Soap turned around to grab Ghost by his ankle and drag him in.
“I-I’m sorry.” You gasped out between sobs.
In response to your statement Soap and Gaz’s arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.
Finally, Price spoke. “Alright crowding em’ isn’t gonna help anything. Soap make sure they brush their teeth then get them the fuck to bed. Ghost, grab the medicine they gave us and anything else that might help. Gaz make sure they have water and a Gatorade on their nightstand. I’m gonna run to medical and get them some anti-nausea medication.”
Hearing that your boys all scurried off to follow orders.
Soap carefully raised you up, and made sure you had steadied yourself against the counter before releasing you. He grabbed your toothbrush for you and put a generous amount of toothpaste on it. After he handed it to you and made sure you were good he started busying himself with anything he thought needed a bit of tidying around your bathroom. Which was apparently a lot.
As he worked he spoke lowly, “Gave us all quite a fright there. Thought you were hurt for a moment and rushed ya to the med bay. They told us you were just ill and had us bring ya to your room.”
You spat out your toothpaste and muttered between sniffles, “sorry.”
As you cleaned off your toothbrush and your mouth Soap approached you and pulled you in tight. “I know we annoy the hell out of you with our recklessness, but I don’t know what I would do without ya. You’re the glue that holds us all together, without ya’ we all would be dead 10 times over.”
As Soaps little speech ended someone cleared their throat behind you, prompting you to turn around.
There stood Gaz, leaning against the doorframe. “He’s right y’know.” He said softly, slowly approaching you. “We would fall apart without you. And if keeping you in good shape means tending to you while your vulnerable like you do for us so well, then we will do it happily.”
“Gaz, you all gonna make me cry again.” You sniffled, rubbing harshly at your eyes.
His eyes grew wide at that and quickly pulled you into another hug, “Please no.”
“Alright, alright. We need to get ‘em to bed. Let em’ rest and what not.” Soap said gently pulling you from Gaz.
“Right right.” And with that Gaz gently took your hand leading you towards your bed. Soap followed closely behind, keeping a hand on your shoulder the whole time, like he was scared you would fall over again (not that you can blame him).
As they settled you in Price came in through the door, carrying a bucket and a small pill in his other hand.
“Alright, this bucket is incase you get sick again.” He said, setting it down next to your nightstand. “And this pill is for your nausea.”
He handed you the pill and the glass of water Gaz had gotten for you earlier. As you took the pill Ghost finally walked over with the medicine he has taken way to long to find.
“Alright here ya go.” Ghost said, attempting to hand you the spoon once you took the pill.
You however, were apparently not sick enough to not cause problems on purpose as you leaned comically far away from the spoon.
When Ghost gave you a pointed look you simply shrugged and said “Revenge bitch.” Before grabbing the spoon and taking the medicine.
“Alright I think that’s everything.” Price started, “We’ll leave you alone now and let you rest. Come on boys.”
As they moved to leave something came over you, making you call out to them, “Wait, uh please wait. Can… can you all stay? Please?” As you spoke you curled up further into your blankets, attempting to hide yourself in them.
Soap was the first to react to your question. “Aww sure Stichey, of course we’ll stay!” He smirked, practically prancing over to you to playfully ruffle your hair.
You scoffed, already regretting your decision, and rolled over to face the wall muttering, “forget it.”
“No no no.” Gaz said, quickly walking over to you, making sure to give Soap a good smack on the back of his head on the way. “If you want us to stay we can stay. It’s the least we can do. Right?” At that last word he shot a pointed glare towards the other members of the 141st, who all made varying gestures of agreement.
With that figured out your boys all settled in. Gaz practically latched onto you, pulling you to his chest and tucking your head under his chin. Soap, feeling extremely left out, decided to snuggled into your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling at the back of your neck. Soap waved Ghost over and with a sigh he slid his legs under everyone else’s and leaned half against Soap, half against the wall.
“Well looks like I can’t fit- what a shame,” Price began, only to have the back of his shirt grabbed by Gaz who proceeded to practically throw him over everyone onto Ghost, who promptly threw him off. He eventually settled in next to Ghost, half leaning on him, his legs fully intertwined with everyone else’s.
Once everyone was settled you felt incredibly comfortable. Your boys were all around you, and while yes, you still felt like shit, their heat and comfort more than made up for it.
The most important thing you got from this experience?
Your boys may be annoying sometimes, but there is nothing they wouldn’t do for you.
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imadhatt3r · 6 months
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You know what? That one line from that Phantom Liberty ending where V can call Johnny a "big ol' softie"? They're right. They're absolutely right.
Johnny is a softie. He goofs off on multiple occasions in V's field of view despite knowing that nobody can see him, probably to his own and V's amusement. He screams on the rollercoaster and grins like crazy at V. He adores Nibbles. He wanted to check on Kerry when he heard that he was suicidal. He finally took Rogue on that car cinema date and can flirt with her in a goofy way straight out of his favorite "Bushido" movies. He has fun on the reunion concert and gives Kerry his DeLuze Orphean as a goodbye gift. He narrates that one quest like a noir narrator just to mess with V. He understands Barry's grief over his tortoise. He's respectful when watching Joshua's crucifiction. He's nice to Spider Murphy and calls her "Spider". He sheepishly apologizes to Alt in "The Sun" ending. He puffs up his chest when Denny says she misses him. He's fuming over the kids in "Talent Academy" being treated like products, probably because it reminds him of how he was treated in the military. He feels for Solomon Reed because he sees himself in him. He feels for Songbird because her circumstances remind him of V's.
And speaking of, he really loves V. He just loves them so much; He's always on watch for any danger and does his best to give them advice. He promises that he will do everything he can to cure them. He will encourage them to take a break if they're feeling sick. He will attempt the most dangerous stunts to get them to Mikoshi. He promises V to let them wipe him from the Relic and he keeps that promise. He will realize that they're his only loved one left and will ask for the last chance, and when he gets it he does everything he can to make them proud and happy. He accepts their decision no matter what it is, because it's their body and life. His worst fear is getting to live again, but without his friend/partner/soulmate/beloved (depending on interpretation) with him. He's proud to be able to call himself V's friend. He's proud of them. He's sad that he won't be able to see how V will change. He choses to stay calm and positive before he will be innevitably killed so that his beloved V will live to keep them calm and comfort them.
That whole hardass, asshole act? It's a ruse, it's a front, it's a persona he had to put on due to bad childhood, PTSD from being drafted as a teenager, seeing other teenagers die horribly around him, losing his limb and being branded with the Arasaka logo he did his best to scratch out and being tossed into a rockstar life of drinking, drugs and fans when he was likely not much older.
He might fight it, but he will never be the detached, emotionless action hero he wants to be, because that's not at all who he is! I think that his slight grin when V says it is one of relief, that he was able to show his most vulnerable, tender and gentle side to the one person he holds dear and not be punished for it, playfully teased but with clear sympathy on V's part. After decades of struggle with who he is being so different from who he wants to be, he can finally be seen for who he is, and who he would be if his life went oh so differently.
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belleetoiles · 8 months
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nsfw below the cut. minors dni. all characters 22+
content: afab!reader (but no pronouns used), cunnilingus, overstimulation, humiliation, rough sex, established relationships, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby)
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your boyfriend is so mean.
you had only come to him because of a bad day. it was as simple as that: a craving for his warmth and comfort after experiencing misfortune today. it wasn't unnatural for you to climb into his bed with him at times like this, and he was always so welcoming and sweet.
he was evil in that way, luring you in with milk and honey pouring from his lips. promises to make you feel better — an ache only he can fix. he loved toying with you until you forgot about your woes, making sure to take his time having you fall apart beneath him.
he liked to bully you, teasing until your brain turned to mush and you couldn't do anything but ramble on and on about how much you need him. and when he finally rewards you with a dip of his fingers into your over-sensitive cunt, he nearly groans at how greedily you suck him in.
he is unceremonious in the way he eats you out, messy and embarrassingly loud. there's a stain of your arousal and his saliva pooling onto the bed right below him as it drips down his chin. the worst part is that he refuses to waste even a single drop, so he's hungrily lapping it all up much to your dismay and humiliation.
"look at you, makin' such a fucking mess right now. so filthy, sweetheart, such a pretty pussy..." you can't tell if he's trying to degrade or praise you for this, but the thought instantly dies in your mind when his palm delivers a harsh smack to your clit.
"gonna help you feel better baby. don't worry," he coos, and for a moment you think he's going to be gentle with you. but then he's inside, filling you so full that his name is the only thing on your lips.
he is deliberate in every movement, every press of his thumb against your most sensitive spot, the angle at which he fucks you. each sloppy rut of his hips drags another gaspy breath from you and it drives him crazy, somehow spurs him on even more.
he's your love — it's his job to make fuck you so rough that you don't have time to think about anything but him, just the way he likes it
blue lock: BAROU, sae, oliver, KAISER
haikyuu: OSAMU, tsukishima, ATSUMU, iwaizumi, ushijima
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© BELLEETOILES 2023 — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my work to other platforms.‏‏‏‏‎‏‏‎
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ilyluffy · 1 year
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𝒢𝒜𝑀𝐸 ~ 𝒪𝒱𝐸𝑅
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬
𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: tsukishima kei + kuroo tetsurou + ushijima wakatoshi + miya atsumu
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut {minors + ageless blogs dni!! you’ll be blocked}
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: afab!reader, needy!boys, vaginal sex, oral (giving and receiving), fingering {more warnings under the cut}
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𝐊𝐄𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mean dom!tsuki, blowjob
tsuki was a hypocrite. he ignores you all the time whenever you felt clingy but during those times where he wanted your focus on him, he had the nerve to get annoyed. tsukishima got especially irritated when you blew him off to game on your computer. instantly he’s walking over to you, grabbing your chin, and forcing you to look away from the screen. “get anyway from the keyboard and get on your knees” tsuki ordered through gritted teeth. “when you’re done sucking me off than maybe you can go back to playing”.
𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: oral!reader reviving, needy!kuroo
kuroo couldn’t believe it. you were worse than kenma. after he spoiled you by buying you the new switch you repaid your boyfriend by giving him less attention. now kuroo couldn’t have that could he? at first he tried to win you over by whining and pouting. all he’d get in return for that was that you’d humour him once you got passed the level you were on. now you left kuroo no choice. if his previous attempts didn’t work then why not dive in between your legs and eat your pussy out until you couldn’t even hold up your switch anymore.
𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!ushijima, vaginal sex
ushijima isn’t a huge fan of video games. he likes them even less when you ignore him to play them. toshi is not exactly clingy but after practices he likes to take out any pent up energy on you. usually you let him but when toshi walks through the door to your bedroom, you’re too busy laying on your stomach playing on your switch to even notice he’s arrived. ushijima manages to get your attention when you feel him rubbing his hard cock against your ass. suddenly the aching between your legs matters more than your game.
𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: needy!atsumu, fingering
atsumu is definitely the type who neglects you to play his video games but becomes all bratty when you do the same thing. he gets even more pouty if you’re using HIS system. ‘tsumu will try to get your attention for a while without explicitly saying that he’s needy. eventually if his not so subtle hints don’t work, he’ll sit besides you and slowly his fingers start hovering over your core. it’s difficult to ignore atsumu when his digits shove inside your wet hole. it’s game over after that.
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2022–2023 © saecore — do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome
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noomon · 9 months
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ding!
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. . . tsukishima kei. sweeter when i’m with you.
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“did you even use a recipe—“
“yes, tsukishima. i did.” you answer.
continuing to apply frosting to your freshly baked cupcakes, you did your best to ignore the man in front of you. culinary class was fun, especially if your class was tasked with making a simple dessert for a graded activity. however, it was not that fun when you have a snarky middle blocker who always had a way to get through your nerves—watching you work throughout the process of creating such a sweet dessert.
even your sweet desserts would turn salty whenever he was around.
kei hums, amused by your response. “did you now?” he replies with that all-knowing smirk plastered on his stupidly good-looking face. “and what happened to calling me by my first name?”
“i changed my mind, that’s all.” you shrug, and he has the audacity to be the one frowning in this conversation. “it’s better to keep things professional, tsukishima. wouldn’t you agree?”
he huffs. “whatever,” he murmurs, propping his elbows on the counter, his head resting on his palm as he gazes up at you—just . . . admiring how you skillfully worked with the fluffy strawberry frosting—not that he’d ever admit it out loud, no way.
with the silence that followed, he quickly grew bored. “can i have some?” kei asks, eyes darting toward the strawberries you had cut specifically in the shape of little hearts for decorations.
“i don’t know, can you? what’s the magic word?”
“fuck you.”
“that’s not the magic word,” you coyly said to him. “i guess i’ll just give these extra strawberries to the volleyball team,” the thought wasn’t a bad one either, “maybe even have hinata or kageyama try these cupcakes i made once it’s graded.”
“no,” he says, slightly glaring at you.
now, it’s your turn to be amused. “no? did i hear that correctly, tsukishima?”
“it’s kei to you,” he corrects, softly this time. his expression was no longer stern, but this time, rather, it was one of slight annoyance and even pouting. “and . . . can i please have the extra strawberries?” he tries again, and for the first time in all the time you’ve known him, he looks at you with this soft, endearing look—as if he were some sort of kicked puppy by the street, begging to be adopted.
“see? it doesn’t kill you to be nicer to me,” you say, feeding him a strawberry or two—which he didn’t mind.
from the other stations, your classmates watched with either surprised or puzzled expressions after they’d witnessed your interaction with kei. even your teacher couldn’t help but ask, “are those two. . . ?” to which your classmates couldn’t answer either.
kei is definitely sweeter when he’s with you.
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noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.
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darubyprincx · 4 months
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you gotta hold on babe. the stars in the sky are made from the same dust that you kick up when you shuffle down your driveway on windy mornings and they're rooting for you because though you can't see it you shine just as bright as anything else in this universe, including your interstellar brothers. and when you go you'll pass them on your way to eternity and you'll be able to go, well i was human and it was rough sometimes and i cried a lot but i wouldn't miss it for the world. you should really try it sometime. and isnt that the neatest thing in the world, that these two foreign objects can wonder at each other in tandem? just hold on honey cos the stars love you back.
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luvit · 4 months
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https://x.com/daddie/status/1727128636711711142?s=46&t=Z5vzD1xgw3Rer9-Uz3965A
this w older!boyf!simon because he refuses to fuck u yet
(female!reader, mdni 18+)
yes! bc this is how he wants to build you up, prepare you, see how much you actually want it?
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older-boyfriend!simon is pretty mean when he's trying to prep you. he makes you grind on his cock, holding your hips down if you try to sneakily make him slip in. because, no! you need to work yourself up to that. if you cum before finally taking him into you then the slide will be so much easier! also says that way you can prepare yourself for cumming a second or even third time and get used to cumming so often.
older-boyfriend!simon who honestly just loves the drag of your pussy against his dick. the way your slippery folds run over the length of him and cover him in your juices. he keeps drawing it out no matter how needy you get. because apparently you're not ready yet according to him. he just keeps moving your hips back and forth while you go insane and cry for him to just fuck you.
older-boyfriend!simon who will eventually let you sit on his cock, where he proceeds to tell you "now fuck yourself on it. go on, were doin' such a good job earlier." even though you're so tired and need him to finish the job. but he just wants to sit back and enjoy the show :)
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do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)
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oh-katsuki · 8 months
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the notebook theory (tsukishima kei x reader)
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masterlist | ao3
Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader
Summary: Kei has a cynical and jaded outlook on love. When his friend Tadashi figures out that Kei has feelings for you, Kei isn’t sure how to react. After all, love is not something he does but rather, something that happens to him.
"There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory.
He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason."
Content Warnings:  fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns), no real manga spoilers, slow burn, one-sided pining, angst, mentions of divorce and broken homes, toxic relationship (kei's parents), smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), pinching, mentions of mark making, overstimulation (m!receiving), multiple orgasms, hair-pulling
Word Count: 24.8k
A/N: i know i spent forever working on this but it's finally done and while i have a lot of thoughts about it, idk rly what to say. anyway, here's my first attempt at a tsukishima long fic. also i already know that im not beating the tsukkiyama allegations, okay? i tried and failed to beat them okay i just think there is no way to put them in a situation without it being a little homoerotic bc.. they r them okay? anyway, i hope u enjoy and would love to hear ur thoughts <3
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The morning comes without warning. Kei thinks he’s read that somewhere, though he’s just sure just where he saw it. He also thinks that whoever said that is right. Morning is always a harsh assault and never as gentle as people describe it to be. 
Kei’s room, the one he rents at university, faces toward the east. In the mornings, when the sun peeks over the horizon, it shines directly into his room and onto his bed before creeping across the light wood floors. His blinds, as useful as they are, always let some through the cracks and the light cuts the ground like butter to a knife. Kei doesn’t think it feels half as romantic as it sounds. 
The light works better than his alarm. No matter how set he is on sleeping in, he never fails to wake up as soon as those slats of light make their way across his bedspread. It wakes him like fever and he’s never quite as comfortable as he felt falling asleep. This morning is no different. 
He rises like he always has, running a hand over his blonde hair and dragging it down his face after sitting up. Then, he stands once in an attempt to gather his bearings before sitting right back down on the edge of the bed. He fights the lingering remnants of sleep, feeling the ray of sunlight beat down on his back. Then, he reaches towards his glasses on the nightstand and slides them up the bridge of his long nose before standing up again once and for all. 
Yamaguchi lives in the other room. His best friend since high school, perhaps his only real friend. They’d miraculously attended the same college and decided to room together, though his other friends from his youth aren’t too far. The arrangement managed to make it all the way until their fourth and final year. Living with each other has become par for the course. 
Tadashi wakes up later than Kei does on most days, except for Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those days, he has an 8 am and is usually in the kitchen before Kei has even stood up for the first time. Today is a Wednesday, so Yamaguchi is asleep in his room. The morning light doesn’t wake him the same way it does Kei. His room faces west, so it isn’t until the mid-afternoon, when Tadashi is chased from his room by the afternoon rays and heat, that he notices the sun on its blinding conquest across the sky. 
Kei’s room is clean and neat. There’s no clutter, no collection of items that don’t have a proper place. Everything is itemized and stored exactly where he intends for them to be. His floor is void of stray clothes, of socks he’d discarded the night before, his nightstand is bare and his desk is surprisingly empty save for one notebook sitting in its center. It’s a room that he could leave at any time, despite living here for nearly two years. If Kei chose to do so, he could pack his things and be gone in a day. 
Yamaguchi’s room is different. It’s lived in and well worn. There’s clutter on the floor, socks and pants he’d taken and tossed away to be dealt with later. Certain things don’t have a place and end up living on semi-crowded surfaces filled with things he likes to put down as quickly as he’d picked them up. Kei envies that way of living. A non-temporary way. He envies the rug in Yamaguchi’s room and the way he fills the space with himself. Kei thinks that even after they’re long gone, future tenants would still be able to feel Tadashi’s presence. 
To say that Kei is cynical would be accurate. He tends to lean more towards paranoia in his own strange way. He keeps things in order to quell the anxiety in it. Things stay where they are meant to be. As a result, he’s earned himself somewhat of an uptight attitude that makes Kei feel more awkward than relaxed even when he’s in his own spaces. Not that he minds it. 
Tadashi’s dish from last night is sitting next to the sink. Kei moves around it as he fixes a tea, making an effort not to drag his feet across the floor because he hates the scuffing sound. Every now and then, the glass of his mug will clink against the cheap kitchen tile and Kei will cringe in some paranoid worry that it will wake his friend. 
As he gathers his things to leave the quiet apartment, Kei wonders where his cynicism comes from. He’s sure he could pinpoint it if he tried. His parents divorce, his previous experiences with dating that have left him jaded, the holes that wore even in his most sturdy of sweaters. Inconsequential nothings that piled up until Kei had developed an undeniably cautious outlook on the world. To him, all of these things are the same. Like the morning, they’re intrusive and unsightly, but none is less important than the other. 
Kei does have things he likes. Art, for one. He likes paintings, sculptures, little pieces of history, and all of the things people make with their hands that he could never do. Kei is hopeless at crafts. His fingers are lithe and long, but they’re clumsy and hard to control. Despite his need for order, Kei has trouble controlling his urges. The subtle twitches of his fingers always mess up whatever it is he’s trying to craft. 
He likes writing best of all, specifically curatorial writing. It’s easy for him to pick which pieces belong together and how to organize them in a space, it suits his talent for compartmentalizing. Kei gets to tell a story that way, be it historical or artistic, sometimes both. The essays that his classmates find tedious, he finds relaxing despite the stress. For him, writing about art and history is a pleasure much like sipping tea that is the perfect temperature, unintrusive and natural. 
By the time he arrives at the library, it’s nearly 9 am. He works better here, in the quiet section at a table hidden by three tall shelves of books. It’s almost never occupied and there are hardly ever people seated in the immediate area. Kei doesn’t go out of his way to avoid others, but he finds that if he doesn’t approach people, they often won’t approach him. He prefers things this way, it makes the good and bad people easier to weed out. 
From this spot in the library, Kei can see where you usually set up shop for the day. You arrive after him by about 45 minutes and he convinces himself that it is always coincidental. 
Strictly speaking, you’re Tadashi’s friend, not his. You’ve known each other for a little under a year and have been by the apartment a few times, but yours and his conversations are limited entirely to pleasantries. How are you? What are you working on? We’re graduating soon, huh? Casual conversation that Kei can weasel his way out of at any time. Like his room, it’s impermanent. 
Kei has had the idea that nothing stays stuck in his head since middle school. The house he lived in when his parents were together, weekdays with his mother and weekends with his father, graduating seniors, the apartment he lives in now. To Kei, all of it is so temporary that he finds it difficult to get attached to it, not that he’s devoid of emotion. He quite loves the little things he has, but his grip on them is loose and half-hearted. Whatever leaves, Kei thinks is meant to leave, so he makes no effort to hold on. 
It’s probably unfair to think of you that way, but Kei can’t really help it. He can’t change what he is. Besides, it’s not as if he doesn’t have a reason to think so. He’s often approached by people for his looks, people who want to get close because they think he’s tall and handsome, people who collect others like trophies. He’s not heartless, so he’s been hurt more than a few times. Kei thinks he owes it to himself to be cautious, not that you’ve done anything to earn that type of subtle hostility. 
“Thought you might be here,” someone’s hand lands on his shoulder. 
“Shit,” he groans, “is it that late already?” 
Kei glances down at the watch on his wrist, reading the time as just past 10:45 am. He’s been here for an hour and 45 minutes and hasn’t gotten anything done. Tadashi pulls the chair next to him out and sits down, resting his chin on his hand. 
“Spacing out?” 
“A little,” Kei responds, tapping his pen against the table and turning back toward his book. 
“Got something due?” 
“Yeah, on Friday,” he exhales. “Haven’t started it yet though. You?” 
“Nah,” Tadashi smiles. “I’m just chasing you around.” 
“You’re like a girl with a crush.” 
Tadashi shrugs and lets out a good natured laugh. It’s a little too loud for this part of the library, but Kei lets it slide, smiling with his friend. 
Tadashi is the opposite of him, he thinks. He smiles often and says exactly what’s on his mind when it crosses it, even if it's a little mean. Tadashi used to be a follower, but in his final year of high school and university years, grew into someone befitting of his somewhat sunny and sarcastic personality. Thoughts and words come easily to him and he has no trouble vocalizing his joy or his disappointment. 
Yamaguchi has freckles covering the entirety of his body. Kei knows this because he’s seen far more of Tadashi than he thinks he should have. His skin is tawny and warm like him. Kei finds himself looking at the ones on his hands as Yamaguchi begins to write in his notebook. Kei can’t read his handwriting because it’s terrible and he doesn’t much feel like working on his own project, so he watches his friend’s hand mark the page. Then, his gaze slinks across the library to you. 
You’ve got your head down and look like you’re falling asleep despite it only being 11 in the morning. Your hand moves lazily across your computer keypad. By the time Kei realizes that you’ve spotted him staring, it’s too late to look away. His gaze was too intentional, so he smiles at you instead, nodding his head a little. 
You smile and wave, standing from where you sit and collecting your things. They fill up your arms because you don’t bother to put them in your bag, making your way clumsily across the room and setting your stuff down across from him. 
“Hi, Tsukishima,” you smile. “Hi, Tadashi.” 
You use his friend’s given name and Kei feels a pang of jealousy hit his chest. 
“How long have you been here? I didn’t see you,” you ask, settling into the seat across from Kei. 
“I just got here,” Tadashi smiles, looking up from his notes. “He’s been here for a while though.” 
Tadashi motions towards him. 
“Aw, why didn’t you say hi?” 
“You seemed busy,” Kei lies. 
You pout, filling your mouth with air. “Next time just come say hi, ‘kay?” 
“Sure,” Kei nods. 
Tadashi tosses him a sideways glance and Kei shrugs it off. He’s not interested in being teased this morning, though when is he ever. 
Kei doesn’t like the way you make him feel. When you’re around, he becomes prickly. It sets Kei on edge in a way that he hates. His world, previously so rigid and organized, quickly begins to feel cluttered and structureless. 
You make his heart pound. You make it hammer against his chest so hard that he can feel it in his ears and behind his eyes. It goes all the way down to his already-hard-to-control fingertips and the tops of his thighs. A previously pastel colored world goes vibrantly candy-colored like it’s been plunged in saturating liquid. He nevers knows how to hold himself, never knows how to act natural. What does it mean to act natural, anyway? How should he rest his hands on the desk? Would it be weird to lace them together? Does he look as stiff as he feels? It’s entirely possible that he is suffering a massive heart attack. 
You whisper across the table to Tadashi, leaning forward and laughing at something he’s written in his notebook. You can read his handwriting, something Kei is equally jealous about as he is angry. Kei just watches your conversation, unable to really listen into it on account of the stroke that he thinks he’s having. 
The three of you stay like this for a while, earning the occasional irritated whisper or dirty look from some of the more studious people in the library. Kei pretends to ignore them, remaining quiet throughout the duration of your study session with Tadashi. His quiet corner is invaded and painted bright pink with your presence and he doesn’t know whether to feel giddy or irrationally angry. Maybe it’s both. 
“Crap, is that the time?” Tadashi exclaims, hunching over himself when someone nearby shushes him. “I’ve got class across campus in 10 minutes.” 
He hurriedly collects his things. Tadashi does it so fast, in fact, that Kei hardly has time to beg him not to leave him alone with you. So he just watches as Tadashi throws his things clumsily into his bag and tosses it over his shoulder. 
“Bye, ___,” he says in a rushed whisper. “I’ll see you at home, Kei!” 
“Sure,” is all that Kei can muster. His voice cracks when he says it and he immediately avoids looking at you and stares at nothing in particular in his textbook. 
It’s quiet for a while. Kei pretends to busy himself by glancing between his textbook and his computer and you sit with your head bowed as you take notes on a lecture you’re listening to through the single earbud in your right ear. Then, you tap the end of your pen lightly on Kei’s notebook to get his attention. 
It’s only been about 10 minutes since Tadashi left, but the library now feels like an entirely different place. His heart pounds as he struggles to keep a straight face. 
When he looks up, you’re looking at him with a tilted head. Your expression is soft and unintrusive, friendly but a bit guarded. You smile softly at him. 
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” You ask gently. It doesn’t sound accusatory, but rather a casual statement tinged with friendliness. 
“Huh?” Blood rushes into his ears. 
“I just kinda get the impression that you’re uncomfortable around me,” you say. “Am I wrong?” 
“Uh, no- it’s not that I don’t like you.” 
He’s quick to correct you and he feels heat rush to his cheeks. 
“Then what?” you question lightly. There’s no ulterior motive behind your smile, Kei can tell, but your openness makes him uneasy. 
“I dunno,” he calms himself a little. “I don’t really know how to act around you, I guess.” 
You laugh, leaning back into your chair. “Is that all?” 
“Well, yeah…” he feels awkward and his palms are sweaty. He drops them below the table to wipe them. “You’re Tadashi’s friend and I’m pretty different from him so I just…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.
“I was worried you hated me,” you smile, chuckling to yourself. 
“That’s definitely not it,” he loosens a little, smiling lightly despite the thudding of his heart. It slows down steadily. 
“I’m your friend too, ya know?” 
“That so?” 
“Well, yeah,” you shrug and lean all the way back, crossing your arms. “I just kinda figured that we would be.” 
“Friends?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His word placement is awkward. 
“Duh,” you laugh a little. “You know, you don’t have to speak formally with me.” 
“That’s just the way I am,” he huffs at being read. 
“Well, you can drop them with me. I don’t mind.” 
“Tall order,” he snorts. 
You tilt your head to the side. “Did you just make a joke?” 
“Uh, yeah…” 
“Funny,” you smile. “What are you studying?” 
“It’s not really studying…” he says, glancing down at the near empty document. “I’m supposed to be writing an essay I have due on Friday. Not going well.” 
He looks up at you through his lashes. You’re leaning forward across the table now, your chin angled upward as you try and peek at what’s on his screen. He turns it so that you can see better. 
“Baroque art?” You read aloud. “Oh yeah, Tadashi mentioned that you’re an art history major. Do you draw too?” 
“No,” he scoffs. “I’m hopeless at it, but I like art. It’s nice to look at.” 
“Huh, you look like you’d be good at drawing,” you say. 
“What’s that mean?” 
“I dunno, like a manga author or something,” you shrug. “You’ve got nice hands too. Like an artist.” 
“Manga?” He laughs a little, trying to play off the color he feels rushing to his face from the compliment. 
“Yeah, you look like the manga type.” 
“Is it the glasses?” He raises an eyebrow. 
“Maybe,” you laugh. 
Kei looks down at his hands. They’re big, like the rest of him, and his knuckles are thin. He’s hyper-aware of them now that you’ve complimented them. He studies them briefly, following the barely visible veins up the back of them, following the line of his fingers to his nails. They’re trimmed and somewhat well kept, save for the spots that he tends to bite at when he lays in bed at night. His hands look nothing like Tadashi’s. Tadashi’s fingers are thick and his nails are short on account of him biting them. Kei wonders if you prefer them to his. 
There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. It’s only a bit bigger than his fist—a little thing, really—and it’s completely blank. Kei’s never written anything down in it, nothing has ever really been worth sullying the thing. It’s got brown fabric binding and a semi-thick cover. It’s malleable, but not so flimsy that he’d need a desk to write in it. 
Kei’s not too sure why he bought it in the first place. Maybe he liked the size of it, small enough to fit in his pocket, but not so small as to be ridiculous. It’s practical, much like he is. He’s considered turning it into a daily planner and putting to-do lists in it, but Kei isn’t much of a list guy, it’s Tadashi that likes making lists. Nothing has ever really felt like it suits the book. He’s considered journaling in it, but his life is one big routine and he doesn’t think there’s anything worth writing about. 
No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory. 
He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. 
Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason, not that he’s about to admit to anyone else that he likes you. Tadashi managed to weasel it out of him, though he didn’t really have to ask. In fact, it was less of an admittance to Kei than it was confirmation of his own feelings. If Tadashi can tell that he likes you, then he must. 
People seem to know things about Kei before he even knows them himself. At least, that’s how it seems. He’s always confronted with his own feelings by other people, not that they’re really ever wrong, but it seems everyone catches onto what he’s feeling rather quickly. He’s not too sure why that is, maybe he’s just obvious and hasn’t realized it. 
Come to think of it, when Tadashi had confronted Kei about his feelings for you, he’d been deeply annoying about it. Kei couldn’t even try to deny it because Tadashi had come out with his guns blazing, cornering him in the living room and throwing facts about you at him until his face was beet red with embarrassment. Then, with a serious frown on his face, he’d simply stated you like them and that was the end of it. Kei couldn’t even deny it. Even he knew that it read plainly in his expression. 
To be frank, it sucks being told in plain speech how he feels about someone. Whenever that happens, it makes Kei feel like he’ll never be able to keep another secret in his life. Sometimes, he wishes that he was able to make the decision to tell someone else on his own, but even Kei knows that that is a little beyond him. Kei can think the feelings just fine, but when it comes to speaking them aloud, he seems to have a padlock around his throat. 
Tadashi knows this about him and if it weren’t for him, Kei would have agonized far longer and far worse over certain situations of emotional turmoil. Most of the time, Tadashi gets it without needing to ask or say anything. It’s nice to have someone understand him in that way, even if it does mean he can’t keep a secret to save his life. 
Feelings lately make Kei a little angry. He’s always known that he’s had somewhat of a sour personality. Kei doesn’t need to be told that he’s smug to know that he is. He’s snarky and usually touchy, picky about the people that he hangs out with. It’s not really a secret that Kei is a hard person to get along with, but lately, he feels like it’s been worse. 
Maybe it’s because this is new territory to him. As conceited as it sounds, Kei has never liked someone first. It’s not because he doesn’t think anyone is worthy, but rather, because there are very few people he doesn’t find grating. Despite how he seems, Kei is incredibly sensitive about things, so naturally, it’s easier to get on his nerves. 
He’s dated before, though not for long, and all of his relationships have started the same way. Kei is approached by them, usually on the premise of looks, and he accepts. He’s not sure why he does. Sometimes it’s because he thinks they’re pretty, other times it’s because the romantic in him hopes that it will actually work out. It never has. 
Most of the time, Kei turns out to be different than they expected. He’s too touchy, too sarcastic, too awkward in his way of trying to love. To Kei, it has always felt like it’s ended just as he was beginning to develop real feelings. 
If he’s being honest, it’s given him a twisted inferiority complex. He’s worried that somehow, on a fundamental level, he’s not enough. Sometimes, it even goes so far as for Kei to think that he’s just generally disappointing. He tries not to be. Kei wants to be relied on. He wants to be someone his friends can go to when they need something sturdy. 
Despite his personality, Kei considers himself sturdy. Well, maybe stubborn is a better word. Kei considers himself stubborn enough to be made sturdy. He’s just a little awkward. That’s all. People seem to mistake that for being unreliable. It’s a peeve of Kei’s. 
Tadashi isn’t like that. Tadashi is bright and warm, reliable in every sense of the word. Kei actually looks up to him a lot, not that he’d ever say anything like that to his face. Sure, Tadashi’s not perfect, but at least people rely on him. At least Kei relies on him. 
Tadashi is more easy going than Kei is. He has an easier time going with the flow, which makes him more personable. Kei thinks that Tadashi is the closest thing that he’s had to a better half. In truth, without Tadashi around, Kei isn’t exactly sure what would have become of him. 
It’s pointless thinking about these sorts of things though. Kei realized a long time ago that thinking about being better won’t automatically make him better. This is just the way he is and Kei’s learned to accept that, whatever it means. Still, none of this changes the fact that he likes you. 
Kei could mull over thought after thought and he doesn’t think it would have any effect on the fact that he’s definitely developed a crush. He’s positive it will go away. In fact, he’s not even sure if it’s real. Maybe Kei is just jealous of you the same way he’s jealous of Tadashi. You’re bright and warm like he is. You and Tadashi are cut from the same cloth, so maybe that’s why the two of you get along so well. 
In all honesty, Kei wishes he could be a little more like Tadashi for that reason. Maybe if he were more like Tadashi, he’d have the courage to fully accept these new and uncertain feelings for what they are. But he doesn’t have that kind of courage, not right now at least. He doesn’t have the courage to solidify and lean into his feelings. Kei doesn’t want to risk what little comfort and security he has. If the relationship between you both is a blank page, Kei doesn’t have anything important to write. What if it ruins the paper? What if when he erases it, it changes the thing on a molecular level for the worse? The notebook theory. 
— 
Despite everything, Kei is rather self-aware. At least in his own head he is. Kei knows that when he pretends he doesn’t like you, he really ends up liking you more. He knows that he’s touchy, that he’s awkward, that he comes across more crass than he intends to. Kei is clumsy, not stupid. That doesn’t mean that he has to acknowledge it. 
You’ve been coming around more often since the conversation Kei had with you in the library. Maybe you’re more comfortable now knowing that he doesn’t hate you, so you’re happier to join Tadashi in their shared apartment. 
Kei feels bad about making you think that he hates you. Actually, he feels really bad about it. Like, astronomically bad about it. Embarrassingly enough, it actually keeps him up at night. So he goes out of his way to be a little nicer to you. The only other person he’s ever done that for is Tadashi. 
He greets you properly when you pass, despite the flare up of a medical condition he’s yet to fully diagnose brought on by your presence. He asks you questions about your studies, partially because he is genuinely curious and partially because he doesn’t want you to hate him. He thinks he’d die if you hated him. Kei’s being brave in his own way. It’s little, but he’s doing it. 
As a result, the two of you have grown a little closer. Kei has your phone number now, though he rarely has any reason to text you. Typing out a message to you makes him nervous. It makes him red in the face when you’re not even there. Somehow, having your phone number feels vulnerable to him, like he has access to you whenever he wants and you him. It means that if you wanted, you could make him nervous without even being nearby. That’s a lot for Kei to think about. 
Kei sees you in the library sometimes too, but he never takes the initiative to speak to you. You always come up to him first, clumsily gathering your things the way you did the day you and him sorted out your friendship and plopping them down in front of him. 
Sometimes, you both go several hours without saying anything to each other. Other times, you’ll chat away about something while leaning forward on the desk and Kei has to pretend that he’s not wildly nervous at your proximity. You’re so friendly. So genuinely warm that Kei can physically feel it when you talk. Despite his nerves, Kei would describe you as comfortable. You’re a comfortable person to him, as alarming as that is. 
His crush is out of hand. It scares him, not that he’s actively thought about that. What started as him noticing you has quickly ballooned into him being painfully aware of you at all times. He kind of feels bad about it. You don’t seem to think that he’s anything more than a friend and it makes Kei feel bad that he thinks of you as anything but that. He doesn’t want you to be just a crush to him. Kei wants you to be like Tadashi, someone he can rely on and be comfortable with. He almost feels like he’s reversed what’s been done to him his whole life, like somehow he’s only become your friend because he wants something more. 
Truth is though, he doesn’t want anything more. Kei wants to stay exactly where he is. He doesn’t want his crush to develop any further. He doesn’t want to confess, he wants to forget. Even now, sitting on a couch in the library, he wants to imagine he doesn’t feel anything at all for you.  
“Hey, are you okay?” You tilt your head at him. 
“Huh? Me?” He questions. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 
“You seem a little distracted,” you smile. “You’ve been staring at your computer for like… 10 minutes with this blank look on your face.” 
“You’ve been staring at me for 10 minutes?” He raises an eyebrow, trying to play off the embarrassment of being caught like that. 
“Not staring at you,” you huff, “but I definitely noticed.” 
“Ha, creep,” he tilts his head up a little, blowing air out of his nose. 
“You’re twisted, you know?” 
“Whatever,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks back at his computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head and smile before looking down at your work. 
Tadashi has said the same exact thing to him before. In highschool, after Kei had made a joke about his teammate Hinata’s height, Tadashi had given him a look and snorted that he’s so twisted. He’s been hearing that sort of thing his entire life. 
“Hey, are you cool if I skip out of here early?” You ask a few moments later. 
“Oh, yeah sure. I don’t mind,” he nods, hiding his disappointment. “I didn’t realize that we had like… set times to be here.” 
You laugh lightly. “Well, we don’t, but we tend to come and go at the same time, no? I kinda look forward to it.” 
Kei envies your honesty. You’re so honest all of the time. You say what you feel when it pops into your head. He wishes he could be like that, maybe then he would be able to say that he does too. Instead, he just nods and swallows his heart back down. You smile at him again and then gather your things. 
“You’ll be home on Friday night, right?” 
“Uhm, yeah? Why?” 
“Tadashi invited me and a few friends over, did he tell you?” 
“I think he mentioned it.” Kei has actually been thinking about it for the last couple days. 
“Good, I’ll see you, right?” 
“Yeah, you will.” 
“Great, talk to you later then!” You smile and with that, you walk away. 
You sounded so certain in that statement. Talk to you later. You said it like it was inevitable. Thinking about that, Kei can’t help but watch you go. He even likes looking at the back of you, though he wishes he could see your face too. It feels worse to be walked away from than walked towards. 
Kei can’t tell anymore if what he feels is romance or jealousy. It’s probably both. It’s probably some mix of the two that he can’t quite sort out. He wishes it weren’t that way. Kei gets the feeling that he might be ruined. 
So he just watched you leave the library. Someone is waiting for you at the top of the stairwell. Kei can tell they’re a guy and despite the reluctance of his feelings, his stomach drops anyway when you nudge his shoulder with yours and loop your arm around his. That’s something you haven’t done to Kei before. Touch him. You touch this other person so easily. It makes Kei jealous. 
It makes sense that you might be seeing someone, that there might be someone else. After all, you’re you. Desirable. You look up at the stranger, leaning on him, smiling and flashing your teeth. Yeah, it makes sense. 
Turns out, it’s easier to pretend that he doesn’t feel anything when he thinks you’re interested in someone else. He likes to think it will save him the time of wondering. 
Kei has cleaned his room approximately four times today. Sure, it’s overboard, but every time he goes into it, he notices something else that needs to be spruced up. Like a pot with a leak, there is always something that he seemed to miss the last time he went through and cleaned up. 
It’s not like you’ll be in his room tonight anyway, but you will be in his apartment and that’s close enough to his room that he, for whatever reason, needs to make it so spotless that it looks like a set. Kei knows though, that even when you’re here, he’ll be wondering if there’s something else that he missed beyond the closed door and he’ll think about it incessantly. 
He’s been avoiding the thought of him liking you. Instead, Kei cleans and cleans and then cleans some more for good measure. It’s not like he has any sort of claim on you and he knows that it’s stupid to feel jealous over one interaction he witnessed by chance, but his mind is running away with him. Was that person your boyfriend? Has he been begrudgingly pining over a taken person all these months? Do you think that he’s creepy because of it? 
He doesn’t get to be upset over the idea that you’re seeing someone else. Why wouldn’t you be? Kei’s done absolutely nothing to indicate his interest in you (or lack thereof), besides maybe telling you that he doesn’t hate you. He has no right to feel the way he does, but he spirals anyway. His insecurities, the ones that gnaw at him in the hours before he falls asleep, play in a constant loop in his head. His unreliability, his unpleasant personality, his cynicism, the baggage he carries with him like a badge. All of it piles up one by one. 
Kei feels like a kid again, losing himself over such a simple interaction, over something so miniscule that it might not even be considered anything at all. There are a plethora of reasons for his feeling like this and Kei thinks he could draw one of his issues out of a hat and it would still somehow address the situation at hand, but all he really feels is hurt and he doesn’t want to explain it away. Kei finds that liking someone hurts. It hurts more than it feels good and the uncertainty chews at his patience and leaves it razor thin. It’s not your fault, nor is it the person Kei’s convinced himself you’re seeing, but he needs someone to blame and it can’t be himself. 
The idea of you relying on someone else makes him nauseous. He’d never considered the thought before, that you find him as unreliable as others do. Kei wants to be relied on, most of all by you, and that fact makes him upset. He’s afraid of what you think of him and without the confidence to accept his feelings, it threatens to crush him. 
Kei’s got this itch over it, so he tries to distract himself. Cleaning his space to prepare for you helps him delude himself that he doesn’t quite like you at all. It’s not your fault. He’s just confused, like his parents were when they married each other. It hurts. Like they were when they had him to try and fix their marriage, which had started to fall apart even when Akiteru was an only child. He’s confused. He’s jealous over your ability to live the way Kei has always wanted to. That’s all this is. Nothing more and nothing less. He feels like he’s being split in two, stretched thin between two modes of thinking. 
Kei glances over his shoulder and into his room one last time. He’s forgotten to wipe the mirror. He goes back in and the cycle starts itself over. 
He’s not proud of his behavior. Kei thinks only a seriously huge asshole would be proud of the kind of behavior he displayed tonight. He regrets it immensely, though some part of him is begrudgingly holding onto the idea that maybe he was right to be so short tempered. Of course, that’s a lunatic’s idea. 
Tadashi is standing by the apartment door, mumbling something to you behind it. Over Tadashi’s shoulder, he sees you shake your head and in response, Tadashi gives a small bow before shutting the door to the shared apartment. Then, Tadashi turns and walks towards him. 
Kei doesn’t want to look at him, but Tadashi, for some reason, commands his gaze. 
“Is there a reason you were such a huge cunt tonight?” Tadashi sort of spits the words. They land at Kei’s feet and roll around before settling. 
“What are you talking about? I was normal,” he answers, though the statement sounds like a lie the moment it leaves his lips. 
“Bullshit,” Tadashi says. “You were being an asshole the second they walked through the door and you’ve been one to me all day.” 
Kei scoffs, his cheeks burning, “I’ve just been tired, dude. Besides, what does it matter? You’re closer to all of them than I am.”
“What? You’re tired so you just get to be a huge asshole?” 
“No,” Kei responds. 
“So then what was that?” 
Kei doesn’t really know. He doesn’t know what prompted him to act so cold or make such snide comments. It’s true, he’d been in a bad mood all day and he knows that Tadashi has borne the brunt of his misplaced emotions, but even Kei is confused as to why he’d acted the way he did. Still though, there is a part of him that knows that it was connected to his spiraling and what he saw in the library. He’d sound insane if he said it out loud, like somehow his growth was stunted in the third grade, but Kei is sure it had something to do with liking you and the hurt that comes with it. 
It’s not as if he’d been outwardly mean, but he had been cold. There are parts of himself that Kei doesn’t want you to see, sections of his personality that he ropes off from you because despite not liking you, he wants you to see the best in him. Tonight, he managed to somehow show off the worst. 
It started with the noise when everyone had arrived. You, Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, Kiyoko, and Yachi had all piled into the apartment in one large group. Kei’d been sitting on the couch and the sound of the door startled him right off the bat. He assumed that by the time they all had rounded the corner into the living room, his face was already sour, because everyone had greeted him cautiously. 
It’s no surprise that everyone was so loud. Kei has known this particular group for many years and they, having all gone to school or work nearby, pile into his apartment often for events like these. You were really the only new factor in all of it and while Kei is known as a touchy person, he certainly was more touchy than usual tonight. 
You’d been trying to talk to him all evening and Kei, in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever lingering feelings he had for you, had been shutting you down at every turn. Thinking back on it, he’s endlessly embarrassed. You didn’t deserve that. You’d been nothing but kind to him and there Kei was holding a grudge over you for something he had no right to be angry about whatsoever. He had been holding a grudge over something that he’d learned later that evening that wasn’t even true. 
Kei thinks that what Tadashi is referring to, was deliberately picking a fight with Tanaka. Kei and Tanaka have never been particularly close. Even in high school, his boisterous and somewhat obnoxious personality has always rubbed Kei the wrong way. Despite that, Tanaka has somehow managed to maintain a connection to him through university and the two of them have established a tentative but honest friendship. 
You had been sitting on the arm of the couch beside Tanaka, leaning over him to look at something he was showing you on his phone. Then, you laughed a little too hard and Kei felt that familiar sense of injustice rise to his throat, thick and heavy. It’s an ugly feeling, the kind that makes Kei feel sick when he’s in bed late at night. Bile rose in his throat in the form of harsh words. Jealousy in the form of the verbal venom Kei excels at. 
For Kei, Tanaka was an easy target, someone he could poke at and get a satisfying rise out of. In the moment, the rise he’d gotten from Tanaka by making snide comments about the volume of his voice and his particular obsession with pretty girls had been exactly that, satisfying. 
He’d picked a small fight. Nothing physical, but just enough to get him irritated. Kei’s not proud of it, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t done it deliberately. After all, Tanaka has never been the type to be the bigger person and turn his nose up. 
Sometimes, when Kei is experiencing emotions he’d rather not deal with, he decides to obsess over one single thing. Usually, it’s cleaning or schoolwork. Tonight, it happened to be the volume of Tanaka’s voice, which he knows was a shitty thing to do. Despite wanting to be reliable, Kei can’t help but feel that he was endlessly immature, lashing out at someone completely unrelated to the situation just because he could. 
Tadashi pulls him from his thoughts. 
“I thought you liked them, dude,” his voice is even, letting up on the anger. 
“Who?” Kei plays dumb. 
Tadashi responds with your name and Kei stiffens slightly. “I thought you guys had gotten closer. What happened?” 
“Nothing happened,” Kei says. It’s the truth. Absolutely nothing happened. Kei had spiraled all on his own. 
“Why did you ignore them then?” 
“I didn’t ignore them,” Kei says. Again, it’s not a lie. He may have shut conversations down and been a little cold, but Kei couldn’t ignore you if he tried, it’s sort of the whole problem he’s dealing with now. 
“Maybe, but you were cold. Like… needlessly.” 
“I was fucking normal, Tadashi. You should know me well enough by now to know that,” Kei spits. 
“That’s the problem though, isn’t it? I know you and I know that shit wasn’t normal. You’re twisted, but you’re not an outright asshole, Kei. What’s going on?” 
“I was normal, Tadashi. Just because I didn’t bounce around or get rowdy, doesn’t mean that something is wrong,” Kei answers. 
“Yeah, but you were like… majorly fucking weird, Kei. You were being an asshole. Don’t you like them? Don’t you want to be nice to them?” 
“I don’t.” 
“You don’t want to be nice to them?” Tadashi scoffs, rolling his eyes. 
“No, not that. I don’t like them like that anymore,” Kei lies. 
“Oh please, that’s such horseshit,” Tadashi laughs bitterly. 
“Get off my ass, Tadashi. I don’t fucking feel that way about them anymore,” Kei insists. 
“Did something happen?” 
“No, literally nothing happened! Why does something have to happen? I just don’t like them,” Kei feels himself getting indignant. Tadashi doesn’t deserve this either, but he seems to be indiscriminate with his poor behavior tonight. 
Tadashi looks at Kei for a moment, studying him and calculating all of the things only Tadashi could know about him. Kei tries to hide it. 
“Jesus, Kei, you’ve got to stop doing this shit,” Tadashi touches his hand to his forehead. 
“Doing what?” 
“Getting all in your head about every single connection you’ve ever had with a person,” Tadashi raises his voice. 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” 
“It means I’ve seen you do this a million times! You start to really feel something for a person and then you fucking back away like a dog with its tail between its legs!” 
“I don’t do that!” 
“Yes, you do! You sabotage yourself until the other person is forced to do something about it!” Tadashi exhales. 
“I’ve never done that deliberately! What does someone else’s actions have to do with me?” 
“It doesn’t have to do with you,” Tadashi says, “It has to do with your parents.” 
The wind is knocked out of Kei, air sucked from his lungs. He furrows his eyebrows at Tadashi, his mouth slightly open. 
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Tadashi pushes, angry and trying to make him listen. “Not every relationship is like your parents’, Kei.” 
Tadashi knows he’s stepped over the line the moment he says it. If it hadn’t registered before, it registers clearly on his face now, regret settling over Tadashi’s usually bright features. Kei gapes at him for a moment, running through his thoughts and trying to pick out one that best verbalizes what it is he feels. Kei comes up empty. 
“Shit-” Tadashi starts towards him. “Kei, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. I’m just pissed off I didn’t mean to-” 
Kei pushes past him. “Tadashi, I know you mean well, but don’t try to tell me about my fucking parents.” 
Tadashi doesn’t try to stop him when Kei flings the front door open and walks outside.
Kei remembers it like it was yesterday. He remembers all of it. 
He can clearly recall the way shattered glass looked on the marble tiles of his childhood home. White porcelain, broken up into multitudes by his mother and father. They never laid hands on each other, but everything else in the house was fair game. Kei’s lost count of the amount of broken glass dishes and picture frames he’d swept from the floor. 
Kei’s parents had always been on and off in their affection for each other. One minute, they were deeply in love and the next, they were at each other’s throats. Neither of them were bad people, but they made each other bad people. The two of them brought out the worst in each other, maybe on account of knowing the other so well. 
Akiteru was an accident. His brother knows this because when his parents argued, they never let him forget it. In their spats, leverage was whatever they could get their hands on, and that just happened to be Akiteru and the unfortunate circumstances of an accidental pregnancy. 
His parents got married at 19, thinking that they’d be able to handle a child, that their marriage was anything but rushed. They convinced themselves that it was love, when the reality was that Akiteru came because they were too young and stupid to prevent it. At least, that’s what Kei and Akiteru had settled on in the evenings after the yelling had died down and they were left to make sense of it in their shared bedroom. 
They had Kei to fix the marriage. Kei knows this because, like Akiteru, his father’s marital “solution” in the form of a second child was constant leverage to his mother. Kei grew up asking Akiteru why his mother and father even had children in the first place. 
Their relationship was rocky and unstable, predictable and toxic. They, like Kei, would do things to get rises out of each other. They’d make digs, do things to get under the other’s skin. They did it for attention, for affection, or out of loathing for the person they’d decided to make their life partner. When things settled, they got bored. His parents often mistakened calmness for complacency in their relationship. His parents loved each other, but they hated each other just as much, and it was he and Akiteru who paid the price. 
They got divorced when he was fourteen and any chance of Kei having a normal family went to the courthouse with the divorce papers. Akiteru was 20 at the time and managed to avoid the brunt of the custody battle. Kei still gets unexplainably angry with Akiteru for leaving him alone, though he knows that it’s not his fault. The only way Kei could make sense of it was through blame and it was easier to blame Akiteru for lying about volleyball or leaving him alone than it was to blame himself. Both Kei’s father and mother tried for full custody, not because they loved him that much, but because they knew that it would destroy the other. In the end, Kei spent his weekdays with his mother because she lived closer to his school, and weekends with his father just because. 
It happens all the time. People grow together, then grow apart, and grow to loathe each other. Kei watched it happen to his parents, he watched it happen to his friends, he watched it happen to himself with his own reflection. That’s just the way it goes. 
The air outside of his apartment is cool and breezy. He can feel the wind through his sweater, cutting through the gaps in the stitching and into his skin. Kei feels like he can think a little better out here, sitting on the short concrete wall with his back to the apartment building. He stares at his feet, outstretched in front of him. He's still wearing his house slippers. 
Kei did this once when he was younger. The fight that night had been particularly bad and his parents had resulted to throwing things across their bedroom. Kei could hear picture frames shatter through two walls and he wondered which memories they’d decided to trash. A particularly loud shout had sent Kei out of the front door and onto the curb in front of the house. 
He remembers crying, staring at his house slippers on the pavement, afraid because he could hear the shouting even from the lawn. Akiteru had come out to get him, sitting down beside him on the curb and putting his arm around him. 
“Are mom and dad gonna get divorced?” Kei had asked through sniffles. 
“Divorced? No, no,” Akiteru answered. “It’s just a rough patch. It happens to all couples. Mommy and Daddy will be fine.” 
“It’s normal?” Kei sniffled. 
Akiteru paused for a moment. Looking back, Kei realizes that Akiteru was debating on whether or not to lie to protect him. Kei wishes he hadn’t. 
“Yeah, it’s normal.” 
Normal. Kei realizes that he doesn’t exactly know what a normal relationship looks like. He is his parents' son. What they had in them, he has in him. Kei knows that those habits, the digs, the sour statements, the passive aggressiveness, are all things he’s picked up from watching them. Some role models they were. 
He needs to apologize to Tadashi. He may have overstepped, but Kei knows that he’d been an asshole tonight. He’ll need to apologize to Tanaka as well. And to you, which is perhaps the scariest part of this. He wants to apologize for his behavior, but apologizing means that he has to admit that he’d acted the way his parents did, out of jealousy and a pull for attention. Yup, he’s his parents’ son alright. 
Kei tilts his head up toward the sky. Only half of it is visible, the other half blocked by the three story apartment complex directly behind him. It’s a clear night, but he can’t see any stars and the moon is nowhere to be found. Kei wonders when the morning will come. It’s a few hours off, but he thinks about how the sky will look when the sun begins to rise. 
“Kei,” a familiar voice calls from in front of him. 
You’re a few feet away, your hands clasped in front of you. 
“Thought you went home,” he says. 
“Yeah well, I had intended to,” you start, “but you seemed off and I felt weird going back without checking on you. Can I sit?” 
Kei shrugs his shoulders, mortified and angry at being caught like this. He appreciates the thought, but you’re the last person he wants to see right now. It just means he needs to face his shortcomings sooner. 
“Are you okay?” 
“I’m fine,” Kei answers automatically. 
“Just decided on some fresh air?” You smile a little and Kei blows air out of his nose. 
“Yup, that’s exactly it.” 
You sit next to him with your legs outstretched the same way his are, your hands are laced together in front of you, hanging down between your thighs. Kei doesn’t make an effort to say anything and neither do you. Instead, he just trains his head back up towards the sky and attempts to collect his thoughts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 
Strangely, tonight he doesn’t feel nervous. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the energy to. Maybe he’s too preoccupied with being sorry to pay any mind to the heart palpitations he gets when you’re around. Maybe it’s because even though he showed you the worst of him tonight, you still came back. It’s a small hope, but it’s there. 
“Hey,” your voice comes quietly, “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need- I mean- if you want to talk about it, I’m a pretty good ear.” 
Kei nods a little. 
“I’m sorry,” he says, “about tonight.” 
“I didn’t come here for an apology, you know?” You exhale a little. 
“Yeah, but you deserve one,” he says. “I was pretty shitty to you.” 
“Yeah, you were,” you agree, catching Kei off guard, “but it happens to all of us. Sometimes we feel things and just can’t keep them inside, you know?” 
“Yeah,” he agrees, swallowing down his shame. 
There’s another long silence. You don’t move to touch him or talk to him, instead, you provide steady company. Kei, as strange as it is, is comforted by your presence. 
“I fought with Tadashi,” Kei says after a few minutes. 
“Today?” 
“Yeah, tonight. After everyone left,” he says. “I deserved it though. I’ve been pretty shitty to him all day.” 
You hum, leaning back on your hands. 
“I did the same shit in high school too, you know?” Kei starts. “We’ve uhm- we’ve known each other for a while, the group that was over tonight. Around the end of middle school some shit happened and I uh- I took out a lot of what I was feeling on Tadashi and the others, but mostly Tadashi because he was the only one who knew.” 
Kei isn’t sure why he’s telling you this. Maybe Tadashi was right. Maybe this is another attempt at self sabotage. 
“You bullied him?” You ask, a little surprised. 
Kei shakes his head. “No, but I wasn’t very nice either. Anyone could tell you that. I thought I was past it, though,” he admits, a little defeated. 
“Did you ever apologize?” 
Kei looks up at you in surprise. Your eyes are full of something, curiosity, maybe pity. 
“For what you did in school?” 
He nods. “Countless times, and not just to Tadashi either, to everyone.” 
“You know, stuff like this happens,” you say. “When I was little, I used to hate sharing. Toys, food, friends. I’d hate it when my friends were friends with other people. It made me insecure and I’d get mad at them for it. I grew out of it, but sometimes I still get that way and I have to apologize later.” 
Kei laughs. It’s strikingly similar to what’s happening now, not that you’d have any way of knowing. 
“I can’t imagine you doing that,” he says. 
“I’m serious,” you say. “I still get weird over it sometimes.” 
Kei shakes his head a little, smiling. 
“All that I’m saying is that sometimes we slip up, that’s all. It’s normal,” you continue. “Not that I’m condoning it. Just saying that it doesn’t make you a horrible person. It makes you human.” 
“Thanks,” he says softly. 
“No problem,” you respond. 
“So why’d you fight with him tonight?” 
“He was angry with me because I was an asshole,” Kei shrugs.
“And you’re mad that he called you out?” You give a quiet and somewhat incredulous laugh. 
Kei shakes his head. “No, I’m angry about what he said after.” 
“What’d he say?” 
Kei debates on telling you. He doesn’t want to make himself out to be a victim. After all, Tadashi meant no harm, even if his comment did exactly that. 
“The argument kind of switched subjects,” Kei tiptoes around the fact that the subject was you. “He brought up a bad habit of mine and I got defensive.” 
“Okay,” you say, waiting for him to say more. 
“Remember when I said that something happened at the end of middle school and only Tadashi knew about it?” When you nod, Kei continues. “My parents got divorced. They were a bad match and it was messy. He brought it up.” 
You nod again, your eyes wide. 
“He didn’t mean any harm, I know that,” Kei inhales. “But uh- that stuff kind of sticks with you. Well, it’s stuck with me and I didn’t like having it used to explain my behaviors, even if he was right. I’m not deflecting or anything though. I know I was the problem tonight.” 
“Sure,” you say. “I’m sorry about your parents.” 
Kei shrugs. “It’s in the past. They’re both remarried now with new kids.” 
The last sentence leaves Kei with a sour taste in his mouth. His parents are good people, but after his childhood, he doesn’t think they have any business having more children. Maybe they’re capable of being good for them, but Kei doesn’t like to imagine that. It makes him feel like their marriage wasn’t the problem, but he and Akiteru were. 
“You say that like they got a new pet,” you smile a little. “Are you still in touch with them?” 
“Yeah,” he says. “I visit whenever I go back home, though they’re really not too far from here.” 
“That’s good of you.” 
“Well, they are my parents,” Kei says plainly. 
You’re the only other person he’s divulged this to by choice and your reactions, understanding and level-headed, make him feel better. It’s like getting a weight off of his chest. This is the worst of him. This little bit of information, his history of being unable to fully confront his feelings, of taking anger out on others when he was young, is where his problems originate. 
“Yeah, but you’re allowed to feel what you feel about it,” you say. “My mom died when I was eleven. Texting and driving. I’m still angry at her for it.” 
“I’m sorry,” he says. 
You shrug and offer him a wry smile. “It’s in the past, but I’m still angry even though I shouldn’t be.” 
“At her?” 
“Yeah,” you nod. “She made a stupid mistake that we’re constantly warned about and left my dad and me behind. I was so angry with her, still am. I love her though, perceived faults and all.” 
Kei thinks about whether or not he loves his parents. He thinks he does, even if he resents them. Kei can’t imagine what he’d do without them. Even though his childhood had few emotional comforts, he still can’t think about a world where he doesn’t visit home to have his mother’s cooking. That’s a world that you live in. 
“That’s hard.” It’s all Kei can think to offer. 
“It was,” you say. “Got easier though as soon as I started accepting things. Now I just miss her more than I hate her.”
Another bout of silence follows this. It must be close to two in the morning and he’s been outside so long that he can no longer feel the tip of his nose. 
“Anyway, about tonight,” you say, “it’s not a crime to feel what you feel, but if you need help, that’s what we’re here for. It’s easier to accept feelings and get hurt than to ignore them, don’t you think?” 
“Yeah,” Kei says, looking to face you. “Thank you.” 
You’re so pretty. It’s striking. The curvature and angles of your face, the gentle look in your eyes, softened by the conversation. Kei finds himself thinking that despite not wanting to face you a few hours earlier, he’s grateful that you showed up. You’re good in ways that Kei can hardly fathom. 
“You should go inside. Tadashi is probably wondering where you are,” you say, standing up. “Plus,” you pinch the tip of his nose between your middle and pointer knuckles, “your nose looks like a cherry tomato.”
“Rude,” he says, startled by the sudden touch. 
“Payback,” you shrug your shoulders and Kei rolls his eyes. 
“Do you need me to walk you home?” Kei offers, a bit nervous about you walking home on your own. 
“I’d love to take you up on that, but you seem tired and I don’t live very far,” you respond. “I’ll call you when I get home though, okay? Since you’re so worried.” 
Kei laughs a little and then nods, standing up. “Yeah, I am.” 
His honesty surprises even him, but you just tilt your head and give him a small smile. 
“I’ll see you on Monday,” you say. “Thanks for the apology” 
“Anytime.”
“I hope not,” you laugh and Kei follows suit. 
You begin to turn on your heel, giving a small wave. 
Kei doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he calls out your name and reaches for your wrist. Before he has a moment to think about what he’s doing, he pulls you to his chest in a hug. You stiffen and then relax in his grip, wrapping your arms around him. Your body is warmer than his, sending heat through the gaps in his sweater. 
“You can call even if it’s not to tell me you got home safe,” he says. “If you want to.” 
You squeeze him around the middle. “Okay, I will.” 
When Kei lets go, he finds that his face is burning. The cold has been replaced by a flush of blood, making his vision a little syrupy.
“Thanks for coming back,” he says. “Get home safe.” 
“Of course,” you sound a little dazed, wearing an expression that Kei thinks might match his. “And I will.” 
Then, you smile at him, flashing your teeth and giving him a wave. You hold up your phone and point to it. 
“Expect a call!” 
Kei nods and raises his arm to wave goodbye.
He stands and watches your figure as you walk down the sidewalk and turn the corner. When you’re out of sight, he lingers by the door to his building, just in case you decide to come back. You don’t come back, but Kei lingers anyway, considering the conversation. 
He goes inside, intent on apologizing to Tadashi. When he opens the door to his apartment, the lights are still on in the living room and Tadashi gets up from the couch and walks quickly down the hall to him.
“Kei, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 
“Don’t worry,” Kei says. “I know. I’m sorry about tonight too. And for treating you like that today. And for high school.” 
“High school?” Tadashi says, confused. “Why are you bringing up high school?” 
“Just wanted to apologize again.” 
Kei can feel his eyes drooping, exhaustion creeping into his body and replacing the elated feeling he had moments before. 
“I didn’t mean to bring your parents into it. How you like someone is none of my business,” Tadashi says. “I was out of line.” 
“So was I,” Kei admits through a tired sigh. “I shouldn’t have acted that way. I’ll apologize to the others in the morning.” 
Tadashi narrows his eyes a little and nods. Kei, besieged by that sleepy late night feeling, moves towards his bedroom. 
“Hey, Kei,” his voice comes out a little louder this time. “You’re being surprisingly easy-going. Are we good?” 
Kei scoffs a little, rubbing his eyes. “I just had some time to think, that’s all. And yeah, we’re good.” 
“Okay, are you good?” 
“Yeah, I am,” Kei says. 
Before he closes the door to his room, he furrows his eyebrows and makes a firm decision. 
“By the way,” Tadashi turns to him, cocking his head to the side in response. “I lied. I do like them.” 
“Could have guessed as much,” he responds, laughing a little. “See you in the morning.” 
“Yup, see you in the morning.” 
Kei shuts the door to his room. It clicks into place quietly. His room is spotless. It looks like a room that could be easily emptied at any time. He sighs, stepping into it and laying down on his bed. His phone is on the comforter next to him, lying face up. 
When it lights up, it illuminates the ceiling above him and he answers the phone without needing to check who's calling. 
“Hello?” 
“Hey, I got home safe,” he hears your keys clink against something and then the sound of a door shutting. Then, he hears the sound of you laying down on your bed. He imagines you’re lying the same way he is. 
“Good, I’m glad,” he says. “No trouble?” 
“No trouble at all,” you say. He can hear your smile. 
“Thanks again for coming back tonight,” he says, turning over onto his side and letting the phone rest on the bed in front of his face. 
“Of course,” you say.
He doesn’t know what else to say. His nerves have caught up to him and your voice through the speaker sounds so close, like you’re whispering directly into his ear. 
“Okay, well I’m going to go to bed,” Kei starts. 
“Kei?” you say. 
“Yeah?” 
“I’m gonna take you up on your offer. About calling you. Just wanted you to know.” 
“Okay,” he swallows. 
“I feel a lot closer to you.”
“Yeah, me too.” 
“Goodnight, Kei,” you practically whisper. 
“Goodnight,” he responds, lowering his voice the same way you did. You hang up the phone and the call ends. 
He blinks at his phone for a moment before standing up and getting ready for bed. Kei goes through the motions while thinking about how the evening got here. He’d been certain before it began that he no longer liked you, that he was confused. Now, he’s certain of the opposite. 
He decides that he’ll like you for real this time. Even if he’s afraid of hurting himself, of hurting you.
Kei lays down in his bed and faces the ceiling. He thinks about his parents, about your mother, about you. The cadence of your voice, the slight tremor in it. He thinks about your expressions, understanding and unintrusive. He thinks about your history, the anger you’d admitted to him and the grace you’d given him in his own circumstances. 
He dreams of braids, like DNA. Coils of pink yarn woven together in an intricate pattern. A molecular change not visible to the naked eye. Morning comes like liquid gold, spilling across his bedspread in slats through the window.
Kei’s apologies go smoothly. Tadashi’s friends—his friends—are good people. They know him better than most and field his awkward, stumbling apology with steady hands. 
He’d explained his sour mood in as little detail as possible, deliberately omitting his feelings for you while doing so, and he made a special effort to apologize to Tanaka. He’s easygoing and quick to forget, but Kei knows that even after accepting the apology, Tanaka will lord it over his head for a week or two. Tanaka thinks those kinds of things are funny and Kei won’t try to tell him otherwise. 
You do take Kei up on his offer. You call him twice a week now. Sometimes it’s to tell him something relevant to him, other times, you just whisper into the phone that you just felt like talking. Either way, it’s not good for his heart. Kei thinks that at this rate, it might just give out. 
There are a lot of things that Kei could say about liking you. It makes his days a little brighter. When he remembers that he has someone he cares about like that, he feels a surge of excitement for no particular reason. He finds that he looks forward to seeing you and goes out of his way to do so, more than he did before he was willing to admit it. 
He’s noticed the way you eat, like every bite of food is even better than the last. He’s noticed that you wipe the condensation off of your cups before each sip. He’s noticed that when you’re studying, you’ll pull at the collar of your shirt absentmindedly and then become frustrated when it is stretched out of place. Kei likes all of these things about you. 
Kei has also found that liking someone hurts. It hurts worse than he thought it would. Insecurity weaves its way into even the most minor of interactions. He’s self conscious almost all of the time, adjusting his hair, clothing, glasses right down to minor details. As of late, Kei appears more put together than he ever has, but the reality is that he’s probably the least put together he’s ever been. 
When you’re around, Kei is awkward and clumsy. He drops things, trips over nothing, loses control over his lanky limbs and overshoots things. He feels like a teenager again, not that he’s that far off from one. 
Still, one thing overshadows all of this. Kei is so comfortable around you, so peaceful despite the nerves and insecurity, that he’s able to forget about the worst of it. Forgetting about the worst of things is not something Kei is particularly good at. He’s cynical by nature. You help to ease the burden of it. 
The coffee shop he’s visiting with you today is quiet. The room is decorated with dark oak wood and the tables are accented by the rings of the trees the wood was cut from. The early spring light filters in at angles through the windows letting out onto the street. It falls across your notebooks and the knuckles of your hand, wrapped evenly around a black pen. 
You’d brought him here to study instead of going to the library and Kei can’t help but think that it feels like a date. His tea sits half-finished in a mug beside his laptop, beginning to cool to room temperature. Your coffee sits by your unoccupied hand and every now and then, you’ll reach to take a sip of the warm beverage without even glancing up. 
Kei has spent so much time watching you today, that he’s hardly gotten any work done. His computer is open on a document with a paragraph of writing about nudity in the classical period, which he hasn’t touched in about 10 minutes. He’s been clicking blankly around the page, adding spaces and then deleting them and then glancing up over the edge of the screen to look at the way you purse your lips when you’re focused. 
“You’d get a lot more done if you stopped staring,” you say, not looking up from your notebook. 
Kei chokes on his exhale. “What?” 
You laugh a little, looking up at him through your lashes. God, you’re pretty. 
“The document?” You chuckle. “You’re not fooling anyone by clicking around randomly like that.” 
“Oh,” Kei furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head a little. “Yeah, just can’t seem to focus.” 
“What’s the paper on?” You set down your pen and cross your arms on the table. 
“It’s not really a paper,” he says. “It’s a visual analysis on the Aphrodite of Knidos.” 
“Is that the one without the arms?” 
“No, but they come from the same family of statues,” Kei smiles a little. 
You hum a bit. “Do you like it?” 
“Like, do I think the statue’s pretty?” Kei closes the screen of his laptop to see you better. “Yeah, I do. Learning about the history of it is a bit depressing though.” 
“Why?” 
“Well, Aphrodite was one of the most powerful Greek gods, right?” He says, and you nod your head and roll your eyes because you know that already. “But this statue group intrudes on a private moment of hers. She’s trying to cover up her body, probably just before or after a bath. It’s meant to be humiliating.” 
You tilt your head. “Sounds more interesting than molecular structures at least.” 
Kei laughs a little. “Yeah, I think it’s just a bit more interesting.” 
“Why did you choose to study art history?” You question, leaning forward on your elbows. 
Kei feels awkward at receiving the question. He doesn’t like talking about himself much, let alone his passions. They tend to get away from him. 
“Probably because I’m no good at art,” he smiles a little. 
“Such a shame, what with your artist’s hands and all,” you reach across the table and tap his knuckle. 
Kei feels the color rise to his cheeks. 
“You’re no good at art, so you study art history instead?” You press for more. 
“Yeah,” he says. “I like things that people make with their hands. There’s a lot of human expression in ancient art, good and bad. Gives a bit more context into who we were before.” 
You lean back in the chair, grinning at him. Kei bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to notice the slope of your neck. 
“Why are you studying molecular bio?” He changes the subject. 
You shrug your shoulders. “I want a good cushy job that makes me a lot of money.” 
Kei watches the corners of your lips curl up. 
“Plus,” you continue, “I wanted to show off a little bit.” 
“So you put yourself through four years of torture?” He raises an eyebrow. 
“Yup, I’m a huge masochist,” you grin. 
“You STEM kids are unbearable, you know?” Kei snorts. 
“But you like me anyway, yeah?” 
Kei nods, heat creeping up his neck, and watches you return to your work. 
It’s true, he does like you anyway. Kei likes you so much, in fact, that it frightens him. Well, the idea of liking someone has always frightened Kei, whether he’s noticed it or not. Commitment, or lack thereof, make Kei nervous in the same way heights do. He feels like he could lose his footing at any moment. 
That’s probably why he doesn’t want to do anything in particular about his feelings. Kei is content with just feeling them. He’s content to just be able to like you in his own way, even if nothing ever comes of it. He probably shouldn’t do anything about them, considering the back and forth battle he’s waged in his mind over the last few months. He’s too indecisive to do anything but like you, and even that feels herculean to accept. 
Not that liking you is a hard thing to do. You’re easy to like. It’s easy for him to picture touching you. It’s easy for Kei to imagine late night conversations and little intimacies shared over damp pillows. You’re easy to talk to, floating through conversations and navigating conflict with a sure step, something Kei can’t do. It’s not hard to find things to admire. 
Kei imagines what it would be like to be with you. He imagines the feel of your hands in his, how you might look spread beneath him, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips. He imagines how his glasses might fog up with your breath and slip down the bridge of his nose. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? 
A little alarm bell sounds in his head. This is a dangerous line of thought, a greedy one. Kei doesn’t think he can handle greed, not when it comes to you. He got a taste of it that day when he saw you leave with someone else and again the following Friday. Kei doesn’t mix well with it, with wanting. Still, he wants. 
It’s a breezy day. It cuts the growing humidity as the beginning of May creeps on. This is no doubt one of the best times of year, though Kei prefers the fall or winter. Still, even with the slightly sticky air, his walk to class is pleasant. He’d even venture to say that it’s good. 
Light filters through the trees, blooming with their spring flowers, and in the distance he can see a familiar row of cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom. As he approaches them, he finds himself admiring their delicate petals, wondering just how brief their bloom will be before they come cascading down. One tree among the pink rows has yet to open its flowers. The buds sit on their branches, shades of green and gray. A late bloomer. This tree will no doubt flower once the other petals have fallen, and when it does, it’ll become the most eye-catching thing on the street. 
Kei admires it for a moment, standing below the thing and looking up through its twisting branches. It’s so small, much smaller than the rest of its counterparts, and its branches don’t look too full of yet-to-bloom buds either. 
There was a tree like this outside of Kei’s childhood home, the one his family lived in together when it was whole. It would always bloom a week after the others and every year he would worry that it never would. Of course, he kept this fear to himself, but he often watched it from his bedroom window when Akiteru was out. He’d press his face against the glass and pray for the flowers to come so that it didn’t get left behind. Sure enough though, it would bloom without fail and leave scattered pink petals across his yard and doorstep. Kei wonders if this tree in front of him will do the same. 
“Thinking about changing your major to plant sciences, Kei?” 
He jumps, started by your voice and your proximity. 
“Jesus,” Kei turns, “you need a bell or something.” 
“You’re the one standing in public staring at a tree with no flowers on it,” you laugh a little. 
Kei shrugs his shoulders, not really willing to give an explanation for the train of thought he was just on. 
“Where’re you headed?” he questions. 
“Dropping off an assignment,” you smile lightly, “wanna come with me?” 
“I can’t. I’ve got a class in 15.” 
“Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes,” you shrug. “We’ll make it.” 
“We?” Kei raises an eyebrow. 
“Yeah, you come with me to drop off my paper and then I drop you off at class. It’s a win-win.” 
“Sounds like I’m just doing a lot of extra walking,” Kei snorts. 
“Yeah, but you get to do it with me so it’ll be more fun.” 
Kei folds and goes with you to drop off your assignment. It’s an essay assigned by an old-fashioned professor who doesn’t like electronic submissions. You comment off-handedly on what a waste of paper it is and Kei nods, just happy to hear about it. 
It’s strange. Kei is normally very tied to his routine. It keeps him sane, helps him to organize his thoughts and feelings into neat compartments. For Kei, an orderly life is an orderly mind. Somehow though, you ask him to deviate from that and he’s more than willing, eager even, to oblige you. Better yet, he does it without feeling off-kilter. Well, without feeling as off-kilter about his daily life. When it comes to you, Kei is about as stable as a pogo stick. 
The walk to your professor's office is only a few minutes from his classroom, just a few buildings over, but by the time you both arrive there, Kei’s palms are sweating. He resorts to shoving them in his pockets and wiping them on the inside of his pants, mortified at the idea of accidentally touching you like this. 
“Hey, about tonight,” you start after dropping the paper off with a quick bow. 
You’re supposed to come over. It’s the first time you and Kei have agreed to hang out at one of your places alone and Kei has been compartmentalizing his nerves so harshly that he’d almost forgotten about it entirely. Maybe that explains his easy-going mood. 
“Yeah?” 
“So, Tadashi may have mentioned it in front of the others,” you give him a sheepish grin, “and they may have asked to come and I definitely told them ‘the more the merrier’.” 
“Oh, yeah?” Kei’s a little disappointed. “So they’re coming too?” 
“Yeah, is that okay?” You furrow your eyebrows. 
Kei can’t very well come out and say that it isn’t, because his reason for thinking that is entirely about monopolizing your time. Kei says he doesn’t want to do anything about these feelings, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t indulge just a little into the foreign feeling of accepting that he’s ‘in like’. 
“Yeah sure, why wouldn’t it be?” 
You raise an eyebrow at him and Kei misses the message entirely. 
“I dunno, you’re not really a fan of bigger groups right?” 
“Not really,” Kei shrugs, “but I’ve known them for a while so it doesn’t count.” 
You nod your head and then smile. “Great! Now, where is your class?” 
“Social Sciences,” Kei glances down at the brown watch on his wrist. “In about… four minutes.” 
“Wanna run? Can’t be late, can you?” 
Kei does not want to run. He runs anyway. You’re faster than he is and your step is louder. The soles of your shoes thump on the floor with every step you take and your whole body lurches forward with each bound. When you reach the end of the hallway his class is in, Kei is completely winded. Considering that he plays volleyball as a hobby, he should really be in better shape. He attributes his lack of breath to your presence. Maybe he’d been holding it while watching you run. 
You glance into his full classroom, giving him a relieved look upon seeing that the professor has not begun her lecture yet. Then, you bounce twice on the tips of your toes and start jogging in the other direction. 
“Have a good class!” You call. 
“What’s the rush?” he questions. 
“I’ve got class now too, dummy. Just wanted to hang out with you for a few more minutes.” Then, you turn and run off, your bag bouncing against the side of your leg as you round a corner and fly down a set of stairs. 
That’s the thing about you that Kei can’t get enough of. When Kei takes a step back, when he resigns himself to being okay with just a chance meeting and a brief hello, you take a step forward. Whatever Kei lacks, you make up for tenfold. Your outstretched hand makes him greedier. It makes Kei want more than he’s ever wanted before. He goes to class starved for something that isn’t food, a feeling Kei hasn’t experienced often, let alone leaned into. He lets himself feel the hunger. 
Day melts away to a cool evening, still slightly wet, but like the dampness before rain. The air loses its warm touch, creeping into something chillier. Kei opens his bedroom window to let the air in. He likes the smell of cool nights. He wants his room to smell like it when he sleeps tonight. 
“Sorry that I spilled the beans about tonight,” Tadashi leans in the doorway of his room. 
“It’s not like that,” Kei rolls his eyes, already irritated with the implication that whatever you and Kei had organized was anything more than two friends hanging out. 
“Sure it isn’t,” he laughs. 
“I’m serious dude,” Kei fights the urge to throw something soft at him. 
“You wanted to hang out with them alone, right?” Tadashi tilts his head. His dark hair falls to the side and around his neck. 
“I just said it wasn’t like that!” 
Tadashi gives an even laugh. “You’re the one making it dirty, Tsukki, not me.” 
Heat floods Kei’s face, painting it red. 
“Caught ya,” Tadashi smiles. 
“When the hell are you moving out?” Kei grumbles and Tadashi gives another good natured laugh. 
“Not until you do. You’re stuck with me.” 
“Not if I kill you,” Kei doesn’t smile when he says this. 
Tadashi barks a laugh. “So what changed?” 
“What do you mean?” 
“I mean with you. You seem a little more upbeat lately,” Tadashi says. “Nothing like the sad sack from a few months ago.” 
“I was kidding before but now I’m serious. I really will kill you.” 
Tadashi shakes his head a little but doesn’t say anything, intruding on Kei’s space until he gives an answer. 
“I just got tired of it, that’s all,” Kei says evenly, though it’s a little hard to admit. 
“Tired of what?” 
“Pretending,” he says plainly, glancing up at Tadashi in the doorway. 
“Because of them?” 
“No,” he starts. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can you leave now?” 
Tadashi shakes his head. “Too curious to leave.” 
“I don’t have an answer for you,” Kei grumbles. “I got tired of pretending I didn’t want them.” 
“Not like you were very good at pretending,” Tadashi laughs and Kei tosses him a sharp look. 
He raises his hands defensively, tucking his chin downwards and laughing lightly. “Okay, fine. I’m gone now.” 
“They’ll be here in an hour or so, by the way,” Kei adds and Tadashi gives a little hum to confirm that he’s heard him as he leaves the room. 
Kei glances around his room. The floor is bare, save for a small mat by the side of his bed to keep the shock of warm feet on a cold floor in the morning away. That notebook, dear to him as it is, still sits on the desk. It’s empty, but Kei likes the look of it. 
The hour before you and his friends are meant to arrive goes by so slowly that Kei worries that he’s gotten the day wrong. He incessantly checks his watch. It’s a brown leather watch with a square face. Thin and somewhat old fashioned, Kei prefers it to pulling his phone out to check the time. His Dad has one like it, almost matching. It had been given to him as a gift at his high school graduation and Kei had accepted it begrudgingly. He’d not been on good terms with his parents then and having them both in the same space for his graduation day was more trouble than it was worth. Still, he wears the watch almost daily. Despite having the impression that his parents never really cared about him, it was a fine gift for him and the brown strap suits his light skin tone in the same way it suits his father’s. 
He walks to the mirror in his room, hanging on the wall beside his nightstand, and peers into it. Kei’s curly hair is somewhat unruly. It’s hard to manage, especially in the warmer months when his waves turn into frizzy curls that he can’t seem to keep down. It’s gotten longer, coming down to just above the bottom of his ears at the back and curls upwards in licks of thick blond. 
Kei fiddles with it for a moment, tucking it behind his ears and then deciding to pull it forward. He could put gel in it to help calm it down, but he hates the greasy look of it and he’s never been one to primp and preen. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, square frames in a tortoiseshell pattern. They look expensive, though they’re only a cheap pair that he’d found at the drug store and had the lenses replaced. 
He looks normal. Kei looks like himself, if not a bit flushed in the face from his nerves. His reflection is one he is oddly unfamiliar with, despite it being his throughout his entire life. At some point during high school, he’d stopped recognizing the man in the mirror as Kei and started viewing him as a separate entity. Kei Two, a version of him that can make a home out of a space and find things to write in his notebook. Kei Two’s family is still whole and unbroken, and he likes to imagine that he’s a little more friendly than the real-world version. He looks away from the mirror, content today with being the original. 
Kei is in the living room and around the corner when the front door latch clicks open and is followed by a symphony of raucous voices. He takes a sharp inhale, unsure of why this feels so different from the hundreds of other times you’ve all piled into his living room. 
“Where’s Kei?” He hears you call, dragging out the syllable of his name in a soft hum. 
That’s why. It’s because this time, you’ve come here to see him specifically. You’re not here to see Tadashi or by chance, you’re here because you’d made plans to see Kei. That’s what makes it different. 
You round the corner and Kei is hit full force in the chest with his emotions and his nerves. It happens all at once, keeping the air from his lungs. You’re smiling, beaming even, and Kei thinks that maybe it’s because you can hear the hammer of his heart against his chest. 
“Hi,” you breathe, plopping down next to him on the couch. 
“Hey,” he chokes out. 
Kei chides himself for his nerves. He’d been doing better about getting weird around you, but today he feels closer to blowing up than he ever has. 
Hinata, Kageyama, Yachi, and Noya make their way into the kitchen, each one clapping Tadashi on the back as they do. They beeline for their fridge, opening the door and flooding the floor with artificial white light as they pull out enough beers and sodas to supply a small army. Kei wonders why he and Tadashi ever bought so many of them. Kei hardly drinks, but he supposes that Tadashi just likes to host. 
“Tanaka and Kiyoko?” Tadashi questions as he makes his way into the living room with the group. His beer cracks open with a satisfying pop. 
“Date night,” Noya says, sinking into one of the arm chairs situated around the coffee table. “So annoying.”
He groans about Kiyoko, someone he’s all but worshiped since high school. 
“You’re just mad it isn’t you,” Kageyama quips, giving a somewhat mean grin. 
“Not true,” Noya argues. “I am the happiest person in the world for them! But now they go on dates and I can’t come. It’s like I lost a bro.” 
“You’re so overreacting,” Yachi adds, her lips forming around high pitched syllables. “They’re here most of the time.” 
“Yeah, most but not all,” Noya pouts. 
“Give the same energy to Daichi, Suga, and Asahi next time, kay?” Tadashi laughs. 
Their friend group is a large one, consisting of most (if not all) of their highschool volleyball team. While Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi are the same age as Kei and Tadashi, Tanaka and Noya are a year older, and Kiyoko is two. Daichi, Asahi, and Suga all went to universities outside of Sendai, meaning they hardly ever see them. All in all, the rest of the group is pretty bummed about it. Kei just finds that he misses having Daichi around to reel everyone in. Now that he’s gone, that job has somehow gone to Tadashi, who is more of an enabler than anything else. 
“They’re different and you know it,” Noya frowns, opening his open beer with a hiss through his teeth. 
You lean to the side, bumping your shoulder against Kei’s. 
“Who’re Daichi, Suga, and Asahi?” You ask softly. 
“You’ve never met?” Kei furrows his eyebrows and you shrug. 
“Maybe, but if I have it was only once or twice.” 
“They’re friends from our volleyball team in highschool, but they’re two years older.” 
“Okay, so one year older than me?” 
Kei blinks a few times. “You’re a year older than me?” 
“Yeah?” You laugh a little like it’s obvious. 
“But aren’t you a fourth year?” He furrows his eyebrows. 
“I took a year off before starting college,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thought that I had to get my sillies out.” 
“Your sillies?” Kei laughs a little. 
“Yeah,” you smile, “and I had to save up some money. It makes the world go ‘round, you know?” 
“What are you guys whispering about?” Tadashi gives Kei a wry grin over the top of his beer can. 
It’s only then that Kei realizes the way you both are leaning into each other. He’s tilting his head down to hear you better and you’re leaning forward. It gives off the impression of two people conspiring, of closeness that Kei hadn’t even realized had crept up on him. 
“I was asking who Daichi, Suga, and Asahi are,” you shrug off the moment, leaning back in the chair. 
This prompts a chorus of disbelief, everyone jumping in to describe them to you. Kei takes it as a moment to breathe, inhaling and exhaling. He can feel your thigh against his, just barely there and bleeding warmth through the fabric of his jeans. 
They delve into stories about nationals, little details that Kei had forgotten a long time ago. Every now and then, someone will bring up Kei’s more-than-sour personality and he will feel the need to hide the embarrassment on his cheeks. Even though you know about it, it’s still mortifying for Kei to hear. He wants you to see the best in him, but any hopes he had of you forgetting are quickly washed away as someone brings up Kei’s relentless prodding of Kageyama’s easily pushed buttons. 
You laugh along with them like you were there, amused to hear stories about your college friends in their high school years. Kei finds himself thinking that you fit very well into this scene. 
Still though, despite the fun he’s having, Kei’s battery begins to run out quickly and after a long game of cards, he gets up to take a quick break in the kitchen. It’s not that he wants the night to end, but rather that he just needs a minute to himself and uses the idea of more snacks as an excuse for it. 
He reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a half-finished bag of chips and setting them on the counter. They’re clipped with a bright red chip-clip from the grocery store and Kei thinks that because of that, they shouldn’t have gone stale yet. If it were the peak of summer, Kei might think twice, but this time of year, they should be fine.
Then, he bends down to get a large white mixing bowl from a lower cabinet. Their plates and bowls are kept in various different cabinets, though the only reason they stay somewhat organized is because of Kei. 
“Done already?” You lean your hip against the counter. 
“With what?” Kei struggles to keep his eyes from following the line of your body. 
“Hanging out,” you smile lightly. 
“Not really,” he says. “Just needed a minute and decided to get more snacks.” 
“Wanna go sit outside for a bit then?” 
Kei glances into the living room where the group chatters away. He’d hate to be stopped on the way. 
“Relax,” you laugh. “They’re so caught up they won’t even notice that we’re gone.” 
Kei furrows his eyebrows and then shrugs, swallowing his heart down with the spit that has pooled in his mouth. He follows you out of the front door, shutting it with a quiet click and heading down the steps of the complex and to the concrete wall lining the shrubbery outside. It’s the same place you’d come back to talk to him at all those weeks ago, though he is in considerably better spirits than he was then. 
It’s a cool night, the gentle heat of the day completely burned off to make way for a crisp breeze. He inhales, wishing that he had brought a drink to fiddle with and sip on to distract him from his nerves. 
You sit beside him, leaning back on your palms with your legs outstretched in front of you. Your hand is only a few inches from his and Kei sucks in a breath when he accidentally touches it while he gets comfortable. You only offer him a little smile in response. 
“Sorry again about bringing the troops here,” you speak first. 
“That’s really okay,” he says. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually really like them.” 
You snort. “I hope so.” 
Kei inhales louder than he intends to and when you look at him like he’s going to say something, he just holds his breath and shakes his head. The air only leaves him when you finally look away. 
“Kind of a bummer though,” you start, “I was kinda excited about just hanging out with you.” 
Kei’s breath catches in his throat. He swallows to move the metaphorical blockage. 
“We hang out all the time though,” he says like it’s enough. Of course it’s not enough. 
“Guess so,” you smile a little, though Kei can hear the distinct turn of disappointment in your voice. 
“You know,” he starts, already embarrassed at what he’s going to admit. “I wanted to be your friend for a while.” 
“Oh yeah?” you smile, opening up again and turning towards him. “Why?” 
Kei shrugs, resisting the urge to shut down completely. It’s embarrassing admitting to someone that you wanted to know them before you actually knew them. 
“You kind of reminded me of Tadashi,” he says. “And you both got along so well.” 
“Tadashi? I’m nothing like Tadashi,” you laugh, shaking your head. 
“What? No, you two are so similar,” Kei insists, lacing his fingers together. 
“What about us is so similar?” 
“Well, you’re both sociable and warm and…” Kei trails off. He can’t really think of anything else. You look at him with an expectant look in your eyes. 
“See?” 
Kei realizes that the two of you are not similar at all. Your warmth is where the similarity stops. He’d been likening you to Tadashi this entire time, not because the two of you are similar, but because you make him feel similar to the way Tadashi does. Safe and comfortable, though with the added addition of deeply awkward. He realizes that without the safety net of you being like Tadashi, he’s never had any ability to deny his feelings and with that they rage full force around the corner and slam into his chest like a heavy blow. 
“We’re nothing like each other,” you laugh and lean back against your palms. “Though, it would be cool to be like Tadashi.” 
Kei experiences the sudden realization that he doesn’t want you to be like Tadashi. Kei wants you to be like him. He wants you to be greedy and want him the same way he wants you. He wants you to be able to keep up with his turns and his moods, something he didn’t realize he wanted in the first place. If you’re like Kei, then Kei doesn’t have to be afraid of showing you the worst. You’ll have already seen it. If you’re like Kei and he loves you, then what is stopping you from loving him? 
“Even if you’re not like Tadashi, that’s fine.” His cheeks burn. 
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah, I like you all the same,” he admits quietly. 
“The same? As Tadashi?” You purse your lips a little. “I thought I was a little different. Was I wrong?” 
Kei wants to kiss you. Kei wants to kiss you so badly that his mouth has gone dry and his lips feel like they’ve separated from his body. Anything he’d thought about not wanting anything with you flies out of the window with your proximity. You’re so close to him. Close enough that if he leaned a little to the right, his shoulder would be against yours. You’re so close and you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for something, implying that somehow you’re different from Tadashi. Implying that you want him to like you differently than the way he likes his platonic friend. 
“No, you’re different,” he says, taking the bait you’ve laid in front of him. His heart pounds and he can’t look at you. He thinks he’ll kiss you if he does. 
“Am I?” 
Kei can hear the smile in your voice. It makes what you’re saying sound honeyed and curved. 
“Yeah, you are.”
“How so?” 
Kei finally raises his head to look at you. You’re grinning, leaning towards him like you’re watching a show. He feels the way his nerves rise into his throat, pressing against the very back of his tongue. He doesn’t know how to answer or what to say. Well, he does know what to say, he just doesn’t think he can. Kei is good at thinking about emotions, but when it comes time to speak them outloud, it seems that he’s still got a padlock around his throat. So he does what any logical person would do. 
Kei leans forward, pushing against his screaming nerves and trying to ignore the tremble in his hands, and kisses you. It’s awkward and his teeth click against yours before his lips fully settle against your mouth. He feels the breath you draw in, like surprise and relief mixed together, and he finds that he does the same. 
He can see the way your eyes flutter closed through his barely open ones and he realizes that your lips are so warm. He screws his eyes shut when you dip your head forward to move your lips against his. Yours are so warm and soft, like satin. A kiss has never felt like this to Kei before and he finds that he wants to catalog every single one of your reactions. Maybe that’s what he could write in the notebook. Maybe he could write down every single thing that you do that leaves him winded and wanting more. 
Neither of you reach for the other, but he can feel the knuckle of your pinky against his as you slowly kiss each other, tilting your heads side to side. There’s hunger within him, the need to take more than what he’s receiving and a greed he isn’t quite familiar with, but there’s also romance. It’s like a spell that’s yet to be broken, fed by the click of your mouths as they move together. Kei sighs, flooded with the relief of this kind of physical affection, of being honest with himself at how much he likes it. Kei loves the feel of your mouth. He loves the way your lips and tongue feel and he loves that they’re all that he can feel right now. 
The kiss lasts longer than Kei thought it would and by the time he pulls away, you’re both steadily panting and attempting to keep your breathing even. He wants to do it again. He wants it so badly that it makes his chest swell. He wants to do that with you forever, but he swallows down the desire. It’s a temporary fix, but it’s enough for him to choke out what it is he wants to say next. 
“I think I’m in really hot water,” he squeaks. 
“What do you mean?” You breathe out, the playfulness from a few moments earlier long behind you. 
“I think I want you way more than I thought I did,” he admits quietly, the first out loud admittance of his feelings to you. 
You smile a little before speaking. “I think it’s only hot water if the other person doesn’t feel the same way.” 
Your face is still so close to his. “Yeah?” 
It comes out a bit desperate, like he needs reassurance. Kei does. He’s so afraid that he thinks he could die. Afraid of the spell breaking, afraid of losing whatever moment this is and being forced to return to his one-sided pining, afraid that you don’t feel the same way.
Your face moves closer to him, breath trembling lightly. “Yeah.” 
You kiss him again, pressing your lips against his lightly before parting them. He’s so overwhelmed and so immediately lost in it. Kei feels the way your tongue teases the inside of his mouth and it makes him feel like a teenager again, swelling with desires and emotions that he can’t name. You move your hand over his, placing it lightly on top of his, and he reacts by lacing your fingers together and pushing forward more. 
Kei wants to touch you so badly, to reach up and hold your face, to touch your waist and your legs and your chest. He wants to do it all, to feel you right here under the cover of night, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you and stews in the desire, letting it swell in his chest as he listens to the clicking of your mouths. You kiss him so slowly, moving your mouth at a languid pace. It drives him crazy. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this.
“We should go back inside, I think,” you break away, your bottom lip shiny with a sheen of spit. “The others might think something’s up and Tanaka isn’t exactly good with discretion.”
Kei automatically reaches up to swipe it with his thumb. He doesn’t know where this affection comes from, where the possessive action found its origins, but he finds that he likes the way it feels to be able to do it in the first place. 
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Kei responds, though he would have been happy to continue sitting out here with you, kissing you silly. 
You stand first, dusting off the back of your legs and waiting for Kei to follow suit. When he does, you reach quickly for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before walking in front of him. 
Kei is not sure how he should act when he goes inside. He’s tense all over, desperate to pick up where the two of you left off, and unsure if his face betrays that thought. 
“Where’d you guys go?” Tadashi asks as Kei closes the door behind him. 
In the time you’d both been gone, the living room has been transformed into something nearly unrecognizable. Empty beer cans are strewn about the tables and the blankets and pillows from the couches are now haphazardly laying around beside the couch or over people’s bodies. Then again, maybe the room always looked like this and he was just too busy thinking about how close you were to him. 
Kei doesn’t know what to say. Why had they gone outside in the first place? He’s not even sure that he remembers. 
“I wanted a cigarette and I made Kei come with me,” you answer evenly. “Why? You jealous?” 
“Of inhaling second-hand smoke? No, thanks.” Tadashi laughs, but he tosses Kei a sideways glance. Tadashi knows him well enough to know that Kei wouldn’t voluntarily stand outside with a smoker unless he was particularly fond of them. 
“Aw, man, I thought you quit?” Hinata pipes up, tilting his head. 
“I did, hot stuff,” you respond, sitting down on the couch. “Don’t worry. I won’t smoke anymore.” 
Hinata huffs and Kei takes the opportunity to sit down next to you. 
His thigh is pressed against yours, warmth seeping through his pants and into his skin. Kei feels like he could explode. You’re so close to him again, closer than before, and he can’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. He’s desperate for it, fidgety with his desire. He keeps thinking about the hot press of your mouth and the languid motion of your tongue. All he can imagine is the few points of contact between you both, mouth and hands, and how badly he wanted it to be more. He needs it. 
You touch him a few times throughout the night and the tension is so palpable that Kei is convinced he can see it. It’s like there is a rope pulled taut between the two of you. If he doesn’t stick his ground, he’ll go flying towards you, grabbing and touching and taking in the way he’s desperate to now. 
After an hour, his friends begin to grow restless. Their faces are flushed with alcohol and the things they’d been amusing themselves with are no longer enough stimulation. 
“Hey, we’re going out to the bars. Who’s coming?” Hinata speaks up. 
A chorus of agreement rings out, but the last thing Kei wants to do is go out.
“I think I’ll probably stay back and start cleaning,” he says somewhat disdainfully. “It’s a mess in here,” Kei tosses you a small glance. It’s unintentional but he’s glad for it because Kei is hoping that you’ll stay back with him, that you both can pick up where you left off. 
“I’ll stay and help too. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow anyway,” you smile and Hinata pouts. 
“You guys are so boring,” he protests. “Leave the mess for tomorrow and come out with us.” 
“I’ll pass, pipsqueak,” Kei scoffs. 
“Fine, but don’t complain to me when you’re full of regret tomorrow,” he points a finger at Kei and then moves it over to you. “And you’re too nice for your own good.” 
“Do you hear that?” You say, beginning to usher the group to the door. “I think it’s the sound of the bar and all that alcohol calling to you guys.” 
“You guys are so full of shit-” Kageyama starts, speaking up for the first time in a while, but Kei just waves him out. 
“Yeah yeah, let the grown ups clean while you guys have fun. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 
The rope is so taut between you both that it’s unbearable and by the time the door closes, you are spinning around on your heel toward Kei. 
“We’re not cleaning, right?” 
Kei shakes his head and starts towards you. The tension breaks when his hands find your hips and he hungrily leans down to press his mouth against yours. 
This kiss is different from the first, desperate and full of desire. It’s fast and your mouths move together quickly as he starts to walk you back towards his bedroom, his hands eagerly roaming up and down your hips. Vaguely, he acknowledges that his glasses have been moved out of place, but he pays it no mind as you turn the knob to his bedroom door with your back to it. 
There’s an urgency to his movements. Kei feels it in his chest, this desperate desire to be closer, to consume everything that you’ve laid out in the palm of his hand. You stumble backwards into his room and Kei catches your shifted weight with a hand around your waist. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, feeling the warm skin on your jaw and neck. His fingers tremble where they touch you, half out of desperate need and half out of the nerves that threaten to spill from his mouth. His lips though, are occupied with yours, clicking together, all tongue and teeth. 
Kei kisses sloppily down your jaw, his lips smearing across your cheek and dipping down below your ear. He sucks a trail there, unsure if he’s leaving marks, all the way down to your collarbone. Every part of you tastes better than he’d expected it to and with every push he delivers, you pull. 
You make small sounds, little pants and groans that make Kei’s hair stand on end with wanting. Your voice, so familiar and fond to him, spills out in small, breath-like bursts that make Kei want to coax more out of you. Kei’s never been one to want this way, but right now, it’s all that he feels. So much tension and impulse that he feels like he can hardly control himself. 
You reach blindly behind you for the bed and Kei guides you down, placing his hand on one side of you as you sit. Then, without disconnecting your lips, he guides you up toward the wall. 
He feels the cool tips of your fingers at the hem of his shirt, pulling downward and then upward to get him to take it off. Kei obliges you, leaning back on his knees and pulling it off over the top of his head. You eye him for a moment, the two of you slowing down enough as the urgency settles into something heavy and lingering. 
Kei leans forward again, one of his hands reaching for your hip. He slips his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding his long fingers up your stomach as he kisses you again. You’re so soft and he can feel the way your chest heaves against his palm. His touch is feather light and he slides it up evenly until it reaches just below your breast. When you nod, Kei moves it up over your bra and he feels you shudder. Kei does the same, overwhelmed by your pliability. 
He can feel the goosebumps that have raised on your skin, little pinpricks of skin that indicate that some part of you feels good. When Kei squeezes your breast, you gasp into his moan and he groans his response, letting you bite at his bottom lip. 
He feels you suck at his lips and swipe your tongue along the ridge of his mouth. When he opens it to let you in, he’s overtaken by the warmth of the soft muscle. He groans, tilting his head down to kiss you deeper, letting the taste of you spread over his mouth. It’s hot and your breath fans across his face. 
Kei hands drift from your breasts along the sides of your body. He feels the heave of your breath there against your warm skin, his palms resting on your waist. You raise your knees, the sides of them pressing against Kei’s hips. He shifts downwards slowly, dragging his mouth along your skin, past the cloth of your shirt. 
His hands make their way from your waist to your hips as he dips lower. Kei takes off his glasses, already fogged up and in the way. When he meets your eyes, you nod your permission and Kei slips between your legs, his flat palms moving to spread your thighs. 
You’re so warm and soft, so pliable in a way that Kei can’t articulate. It makes his mouth water with his desperation and he’s grown hard against the bedspread beneath him. 
“Touch me,” you breathe out. 
Kei nods into your stomach, looping his fingers around our waistband, and pulls down your pants. Your panties come with it and it’s with a slight wave of regret that he realizes he won’t get to see the way you stick to them. 
When he sees you, his heart leaps into his throat. His eagerness and his nerves catch up to him and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. You shudder when the air hits your exposed cunt, an unintentional side effect of Kei’s nerves that has him grinding down against the bedspread. 
He slides his palm to rest over your center. It’s warm and sticky, wet beyond what Kei had imagined and he gingerly presses a finger between your folds. You gasp, mouth falling open above him. Then, he slides his finger into you to the first knuckle, curling up. Kei goes deeper on the second pump, curling his whole finger inside of you and feeling the way you tighten around him. 
You arch your back up off the bed and Kei groans and rolls his eyes, resting his head on the inside of your exposed thigh. He curls his fingers in you, watching the way they coat with your pleasure. His eyebrows are knit together, like he’s asking whether you like how he touches you or not, and you seem to pick up on his insecurity, nodding your head before letting it tip back against Kei’s pillows. 
Kei thinks your expression is incredible. Your eyebrows pull up in the center, pretty face twisted and mouth slightly open in an expression of undeniable pleasure. Kei’s stomach winds at the look of it and he ruts his hips against the mattress to quell the growing ache of need. His fingers, which curl at a slow and even pace inside of you, are warm with your enjoyment. It leaks between his knuckles, sliding down the back of his hand like a slow moving syrup. He wonders whether you have more to give and how you taste, his gaze slinking from your face to the place just above where his fingers disappear. 
He lowers his mouth to you without thinking, curious and needing the taste of it. Sure enough, you have more to give. Your voice comes quickly, a small gasp that is stifled by the back of your hand when he sucks sharply on your clit. Your hips push forward against his hands and then you arch up off the mattress with a small cry. Kei wonders if you’ve cum. He wonders if he’s sent you over the edge, but if he has, you’re taking all of it so well that he doesn’t dare stop. 
The taste of you spreads on his tongue, tangy and warm. You invade his senses violently, like you are gripping his throat. Kei holds his mouth to you, pressing the length of his cock into the mattress and moving his hips like he plans to fuck it. 
He moves his free hand down your thigh and onto the inside of your leg. Your skin is so soft. It’s so vulnerable, something easily pierced and bled. Kei’s pointer finger rubs gentle circles there, feeling the slight pull of the soft skin with his fingers, so thin that it almost feels like tissue paper. He’s sure that with a little pressure, you would bruise. 
The thought surprises him. He works his tongue across your clit and his fingers against that gummy spot inside of you, but his mind drifts to the softness of your inner thigh, the way it would be so easy to leave a spot that might hurt later when you press on it, remind you of exactly where he was. Then, Kei pinches you on the inside of your thigh and when you cry out, tightening around his fingers with a tapered moan, he pinches you again, harder this time. 
You whimper slightly, like you like it. No, you sound like you love it and Kei finds himself holding back a choked moan as he tries not to cum prematurely. He pinches along the inside of your legs and around the back. Not too much. Only when he feels like it. Only when he wants to hear what kind of sounds you’ll make. 
“K-Kei wait, wait,” you pant, grabbing him by his tufts of blonde hair. It hurts. He doesn’t think you mean to hurt him, but it doesn’t matter. He likes it and he twitches in his pants. 
“Huh?” He hums, detaching from your clit and slowing the movement of his fingers to a halt. Your legs shake around his handiwork. “You okay?” 
“I’ll cum if you keep going like that,” you breathe, screwing your eyes shut like you’re still on the edge. “Drag it out for me, yeah?” 
Kei furrows his eyebrows and sucks in a sharp breath.
“Cum if you want to.” He tilts his head down to reattach his lips. 
“Not yet,” you tug at his hair. “I like chasing it.” 
Kei stares at you, unblinking and awestruck. Your chest heaves and despite the pleasure on your face, you look uncomfortable as your orgasm slips away from you. Kei likes that look on your face and he finds himself growing greedy. 
“Come here,” you coax him onto the mattress. 
Kei watches as you slip your hands into the waistband of his jeans and pull them down, leaving him on his back with his tented boxers exposed. You crawl down his body and settle between his legs with your arms between his thighs. He shudders when you run your hands up them and he briefly sees his boxers jump. 
You smile, pressing your mouth to him through his boxers. Kei can’t stifle the groan that escapes him and heat floods his face when you raise your eyebrows in response. 
“You don’t have to,” he says through gritted teeth as you slip the waistband of his boxers down. 
“But I want to,” you mumble, taking him in your hand and placing a kiss on the side of his dick. 
Kei’s head falls back against the pillow and he swears under his breath when he feels the warmth of your mouth close around the tip of him. He jerks his head up to see, awestruck by the way your lips look around the head of his cock. 
For some reason, Kei is already so sensitive. He feels everything, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue along his slit as you bob your head, he makes a noise he didn’t think he could make. His fingers knot themselves in the bed sheets, white knuckled and trembling while you bob your head over him. 
Your mouth is so warm and wet. It’s a little messy, dripping down the length of him and onto his balls. Kei feels the warmth, the heat of you. He can still taste you on his tongue. Kei can still feel the stickiness left behind from your arousal on his mouth. The combination of you between his legs and the taste of you on his tongue is overwhelming. 
Kei can feel his orgasm growing in his lower stomach, turning over until he’s bringing his long fingers to your head in an effort to steady himself. There’s nothing he can do but give in, watching you through damp eyes as you watch his expression. 
It’s embarrassing how quickly he cums. It doesn’t take long and he teeters on the edge for a few moments before fully cresting over. Kei can’t help the way he lifts his hips from the mattress, his voice caught in his throat as it hooks on a high pitched groan. His voice cracks and he feels the way his cum collects on your tongue and across the tip of his dick in your mouth. 
“Fuck,” he mutters, red faced and panting, “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to finish so quickly, you’re just-” 
“It’s fine,” you come up, your eyes glassed over and lust-filled. “I like making you feel good.” 
“Yeah but-” 
“No buts,” you crawl over him and straddle his waist. Kei winces when your weight briefly nudges his cock. “There’s still fun to be had. Can I kiss you?” 
He nods and you lean down to do as you’d asked. Your tongue moves slowly against his, less desperate this time, like you’re trying to work him down and back up again. You place your hands on his chest, settling your weight down so that your bare cunt is pressed against his sensitive cock. Kei thinks he might die. 
He brings his hands to your waist, the fatigue creeping from his bones as he digs the pads of his fingers into your fleshy sides. You draw in a breath when he does and it makes Kein feel like he’s tipping sideways with arousal. Everything that you do, right down to the involuntary twitch of your hips or eyebrows, is sexy. 
Kei turns you over, growing hard between your legs again, and gently pins you to the mattress. He kisses you for a moment longer, his lips working clumsily across yours before he pulls away to catch his breath and find his bearings. 
You chase him with your mouth, tilting your head up to kiss him. Kei feels his chest swell with arousal and his cock strains almost painfully against his pants as he peers at you. You’re so pretty. Everything about you is so pretty. On his chest, he can feel your fingers, splayed over his pecks, across his collarbone, and grazing the side of his neck. He leans closer, loving the pressure of your body and the desperation that pours from your skin. 
Kei kisses you again. He kisses you the way he wanted to outside, dipping his tongue into your mouth with a desperation that he can taste. You take control back, reaching between the two of you, and Kei shifts himself upward instinctually to give you access to him. He feels your fingers fumble for him and there’s a pause in which Kei doesn’t know what to do. He wonders if this might be the part of him that you like. The awkward part, the one that doesn’t know what to do. Kei’s thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your hand wrapping around him and tugging upward. 
His head drops and a low groan escapes his lips before he can even think to stop it. Kei’d almost forgotten his sensitivity, how desperately he wants to be touched, how overwhelming it feels. He shivers, looking down at where your hand wraps around him and pumps. When he looks back up, he finds that you’re looking at his face, your eyes glassed over and observant as you commit all of his expressions to memory. 
“What?” he says, letting out a shuddering breath and the slight overstimulation. 
“Your face is red,” you reach up with your free hand to run your thumb along his cheek. 
Kei huffs, dropping his head and you fiddle with something between the two of you.
“No,” you pick his chin up. “I like it. It’s cute.” 
You tighten your grip around him and Kei feels his expression twist, a new rush of heat and desire flooding his belly as he realizes you’re sliding a condom onto him. Then, you guide the tip of him between your legs and he feels the wet press of your entrance against him. 
“Christ,” he groans. 
You smile slightly, shifting your hips a little and then placing your hands on his shoulders. Kei pushes forward slowly, his thighs twitching. It takes everything he has to keep from cumming again and every muscle in his body screams with a desire to let go. 
Kei is so overwhelmed, partially because you feel so good, but also because there is some part of him that knows this feels different. Kei feels different about you, about being intimate with you, than he has with anyone else. There’s something alive in him, something with its own mind. Something greedy and vulnerable that stirs when your face is this close to him, when he’s buried all the way in you to the base of his cock. Emotional and sensitive, Kei feels it kick. 
His first instinct is to run. Agreeing to let himself like you, to let himself do something about it, was not agreeing to letting something live inside of him. Kei’s first thought when he registers the difference is to cut it off and suffocate it so that it stops thumping against his chest. He’d grown so used to the hollow feeling that the feeling of living emotion makes him nervous, it puts him on edge. But when he pulls out a few inches and fucks back into you, the anxiety dispels into insurmountable pleasure. A pleasure Kei can’t describe, something fulfilling and whole. 
He picks up his pace, letting himself do what he wants while you grip his shoulders with blunted nails. He likes the expression you wear. Truthfully, he likes all of your expressions, but this one is new. Pressure and pleasure, a newness to the feel of him inside of you that you can’t quite keep from your eyes or lips. He kisses you as if he could taste it, slipping his tongue between your lips. 
“I really like you,” you mumble against his mouth, breath hot as it fans across his cheeks. 
Kei’s heart hammers and his hips stutter a little. 
“Me too,” he chokes, trying to think about volleyball to stave off a second orgasm. All that comes to mind though, is you. 
“Are you close again?” you breathe, voice laden with pleasure. 
“I have been since we started,” Kei admits. 
“Cum then,” you say softly, reaching behind his head to pull his mouth back to yours. Kei likes the control you exhibit. He groans his approval.
“You first,” he mutters.
There’s this possessive part of Kei that wants to watch you fall apart on him. He wants to see it, to watch you feel good too and commit it to memory so that he can always keep it. He thinks it’s a pride thing, something attached to his desire to succeed, to his reliability. Maybe though, it’s just because he thinks it’ll look hot. 
He reaches down and lifts one of your legs up by the back of your knee, pressing it down to give himself better access. You whine and Kei feels the way you clench down around him, your fingers knitting into the hair at the back of his neck. It hurts in a good way. 
Kei slips his hand between you, rubbing circles on your clit to get you there faster. Frankly, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this, staring down at your face while it twists with pleasure. You’re so attractive to him. Everything about you is sexy. It makes Kei a little crazy. 
He listens as your breathing quickens, as your voice wavers further. He feels the way your cunt begins to flutter faster, pulsing around him until you attempt to cry out and warn him. Then, you clamp down around him, arching your hips up off the mattress and pulling at his hair. Kei moves his head with you, relishing in the way you tug and scratch. 
He builds up to his orgasm so fast that it hurts. There’s pressure and then the mounting feeling of nearing the top, and then the peak and crash. He cums so hard that it hurts, pushing his cock as far as it will go into you and feeling the warm spill of his cum in the condom. He moans a long, drawn out sound that you mimic, his fingers knitting into the pillow behind you and his head dropping so that his lips sit near your neck.
He lets out a shaky breath, letting himself sit inside of you for a moment. You turn his head towards yours and kiss him. It’s gentle. A smooth and languid kiss that neither of you moves to deepen. Your lips move against each other and Kei closes his eyes to savor the taste. 
You tap his shoulder and Kei rolls over onto the bed beside you, snapping the condom off with a small wince and tying it up in a quick motion. He places it in the trash bin beside the bed. When he turns over, you’re already moving to slip under his arm, resting your head on his chest. 
There’s a passing moment of silence, not unlike the ones you both have fallen into before and you sigh lightly against his exposed chest. Kei follows suit, watching the way you move with his breath. 
His skin is sticky against yours and Kei can vaguely register the smell of sweat in the room. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since everyone left, nor does he know when they’ll be back, but he estimates that it won’t be more than an hour. Kei briefly wishes that he could pause time so that he can stay here with you, just like this. 
“I’m not good at this kind of stuff,” Kei admits quietly. 
“What stuff?” You ask, tracing your finger along the ridges of his lean abdomen. 
“Liking people,” he says. “Dating.” 
You give a small laugh. “No offense, Kei, but I could tell that from the moment I met you.” 
“Shit, seriously?” 
“Duh,” you breathe out. “It’s a little charming to me, though. I like that part of you.” 
So it’s true. You like the parts of Kei that he’s always worried were the worst of him. 
“Huh,” he says. “Could you tell?” 
“That you like me?” You ask, shifting your head to look at him. “Yeah, it was obvious after we established that you didn’t hate me. I always noticed you staring in the library.” 
“Really? I thought I was being a little slick with that,” Kei feels heat and color flood his face. 
You let out a good-natured laugh. “People can always tell when someone’s staring, Kei. It’s like a sixth sense.” 
“Good to know. Hindsight is 20/20 and all.” 
Another bout of silence follows. 
“You can keep staring though,” you say, “if you want to. And calling.”
“Okay,” Kei responds, “I didn’t really plan on stopping.” 
“Ha, freaky,” you laugh a little and Kei reaches up to flick the side of your head. “Wanna start going out?” 
Kei thinks about this for a moment. He thinks about being able to hold your hand, brush hair out of your face, watch movies on the couch and fix your breakfast the next morning. Then he thinks about not being able to do those things. 
“I think I’d be a little upset if we didn’t,” he admits. 
“Good,” you say. “Me too.” 
He’s fighting off sleep. His eyelids are heavy and he tries to blink away the shroud of rest that’s falling over him. Kei knows you’re fighting it too. Your breathing goes in and out of that familiar breathing that comes with sleep. Kei likes the way it sounds coming from you, restful and quiet. 
“We should… really get up to clean just a little,” he mumbles. 
“Five more minutes,” you say softly, your voice heavy and laden with drowsiness. 
“Okay,” he says. 
It’s just five more minutes. Kei fights sleep to hear you breathe like this a little longer. 
There’s a period after which Kei doesn’t know what to do with himself. Like the awkward start to a new hobby or passion, Kei finds himself enthralled with his budding relationship while simultaneously stumbling continuously along the way. You’re gracious with him though, letting him make mistakes and fumble until he finds his footing. 
It’s all very awkward for him, very new. He finds that it’s easier to just do the nice things he wants to do for you than to agonize over it and slowly, he begins to grow comfortable in the relationship that took you both so long to begin. 
At first, only Tadashi knew about you both. Kei thought that there was no point in hiding it from him, since you were over at the apartment all the time. Of course, Tadashi somehow already knew. That’s how it usually goes anyway, and Kei is relieved to find that his internal change did not trigger some global shift that would turn his life upside down. Everything is normal, save for the fact that Kei now tries to love without hindrance. 
Kei discovers that he’s possessive. That’s a new trait of his that he didn’t know belonged to him. Before you, before Kei had found something he so desperately wanted to keep, he’d been rather detached. Possessiveness was rare because Kei hardly ever got attached enough to want. Now though, he wants so badly that it hurts. You lean into it. Kei suspects that you like it when he wards off people who hit on you, when he pouts a little because he wants to be close to you, when he gets a little jealous. Kei doesn’t really mind it either. After all, despite his possessiveness, he never feels insecure. The both of you make sure of that. 
This sunny period with you, the one Kei worried would only last a week, drifts easily from one month into two and before he knows it, it’s been five. Kei had worried about that fundamental change. The one imperceivable to the human eye. He’d worried that slowly, it would begin to spoil what is so good between the two of you. 
“Kei,” you snap him out of it, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you okay?” 
He sets down his cup of tea, barely touched. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?” You give him a wry smile. “This was your idea, after all.” 
“Yeah, well it was a pretty shit idea actually,” he breathes, “My parents aren’t exactly easy.” 
“You want to cancel?” You ask, your eyebrows pulling up in a clumsy attempt to hide your disappointment. Kei can see right through it.
“No,” he shakes his head. “I want you to meet them. I just don’t want you to meet them.” 
The truth of it is that Kei would like to cancel. In an ideal world, one where the sun rises on the opposite side of his bedroom window, he’d forget the whole thing and take you out to get dinner and see a movie. Things would be simpler that way, less uncomfortable for the both of you. But as uncomfortable as it is, Kei wants you to be a part of their lives too. You’re too important to not introduce to his parents and Kei can’t see it any other way, though he’d like to. 
You snort. “What does that even mean?” 
Kei gives you a pointed and somewhat irritated look. 
“Okay, sorry,” you raise your hands defensively and walk over to place them on his shoulders. “I know you’re worried, but I think it’s going to be okay. I’m excited.” 
Kei huffs out a laugh, unable to vocalize his nerves in their totality. “Excited to meet my dysfunctional, divorced parents that kind of hate each other?” 
“Yup. I’m excited to meet the people who raised you.” 
Kei smiles a little. “You should meet Akiteru, then,” It’s an exaggeration, but for some reason the prospect of seeing both of his parents together has him feeling a little more bitter than usual, even if it was his idea. 
You give him a little grin through narrowed eyes. There’s an understanding that passes from you to him, like you’re acknowledging that you haven’t forgotten what he’d told you nearly six months ago. Kei feels the tension in his shoulders relax a little. 
His parents are already at the restaurant when he arrives. It’s a swanky Italian place. The kind you go to on birthdays or for anniversaries, where the pasta dishes are things like lobster mushroom ravioli or truffle oil fettucini in tiny portions. Kei made sure to book somewhere that his parents would have trouble making a scene in, not that they ever had much of a mind for decorum when they were married. He’s surprised to find them chatting cordially when you both arrive. 
“Kei,” his mother stands from the table and crosses to give him a hug. He pats her back gently.
“Hi Mom,” Kei responds and she gives him a small smile. 
Kei’s dad adjusts the lapel of his suit, the same one he’s had for years, and reaches to give him a hug around one shoulder. 
“Guys,” he inhales, “This is my partner, _____.” 
You grin at Kei and then introduce yourself formally to his parents. Kei watches in awe as you blend right in, like you’ve known them for many years. He sits down while trying to keep the nerves from his face. 
“We’re so happy to meet you,” his mother starts, “Kei’s never introduced us to any of his partners before.” 
“I’m the first?” You smile a little, raising an eyebrow at Kei as if to tease him. 
“There really haven’t been that many to begin with,” Kei grumbles as if that somehow makes it better. 
You laugh again and the ball of conversation begins rolling. His mother tells you how pretty you are and his father nods a quieter approval. They talk about his university’s graduation ceremony, which they attended separately, as if they were together the entire time and then ask about your major, if you graduated with him, where you plan on going. You tell them what you want to do and that you want to go wherever Kei goes. He marvels at how smoothly the evening moves onward.
There are moments where the tension in his family becomes obvious. Little swells or comments that bring up a sour or shameful memory that cannot be ignored. Moments when the air thickens and it feels like the hammer is about to come down. It never does though. The tension, rather than snapping, simply fades away. 
He’d expected everything to blow up for some reason. Kei had expected that, like his childhood, the restaurant dishes would end up smashed on the floor. The glassware always ended up broken in the house, why shouldn’t they be broken here to shatter the illusion of things being good? He braces himself for a ball that never drops.
It takes him until the ride home, after a successful dinner, to realize that the dishes haven’t been smashed in years. Not since he was fourteen and his parents fought for custody. Not since his mother got remarried to her now husband almost 6 years ago and his father met his new wife. Kei wonders why he still feels like he lives in that house. The one his parents were at their worst in. Why can’t he feel like he lives in the apartment he rents with Tadashi? 
“I think that went well,” you say softly on the drive back. 
Kei nods his agreement. “I think so too.” 
You don’t bring up the fact that they didn’t fight, or that they spoke about their new kids with each other as if they were old friends. You don’t accuse Kei of being wrong, of being paranoid even though he most definitely was. 
“I’m glad that I got to meet them,” you say. “You look so much like your mom.” 
“Really?” Kei asks. 
“Yeah, you’ve got her eyes and her nose,” you smile a little. “It makes you two look similar.” 
“Huh,” he says. “I never really gave that much thought.” 
Kei turns the idea that he has his mother’s face over in his head. He’d spent so much time dreading that he was like them on the inside, that he never paused to consider the outside. So much of his life has been spent worrying that he’s just like them. That he breaks the plates and lashes out and acts cruelly even when he’s trying to love. But he has his mother’s eyes and for some reason that unsettles him. It’s like evidence. 
“You don’t really act like them though,” you say as if on cue. “You’re a little gentler.” 
“Me? Gentle?” Kei scoffs. 
“Yeah!” you say. “I mean, sure you’re prickly, but there’s a goodness to you that’s really obvious if you look.” 
Goodness. What a strange word to use to describe someone. Kei thinks that if there’s any goodness in him, if there’s anything that hasn’t been tainted by his parents’ sour personalities, it’s from Akiteru. Kei likes to believe that whatever good he got was from him. No matter how strained his relationship with him might be now, Kei is certain of that. 
“That’s a relief,” he admits in a flat tone. 
After a long pause, he speaks again. “Thanks.” 
“For what?” You laugh. 
“Bearing with me… and with them,” he says. “Couldn’t have been easy.” 
“It was easy,” you say. “Because I wanted to meet them. And I care about you.” 
Kei feels color rise to his cheeks. He turns to look in the sideview mirrors as he pulls the car into a parking spot in his apartment complex’s garage. 
“You say that stuff so easily,” he huffs. 
“What? That I care about you?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Well, I do,” you laugh a little.
Kei’s face grows hotter and he distracts himself by putting the car into park and taking the key out of the ignition. 
“Me too,” he says quietly, waiting for you to catch up so that he can take your hand in his. “Sorry that I don’t say it a lot.” 
“Not to be rude,” you say, “but even if you never said it at all, it would be obvious. You’re kind of a sucker.” 
Kei supposes that that’s true and he gives a small laugh before nudging your shoulder with his. The parking garage is humid and stuffy, but he holds your hand in it anyway. 
You’re half asleep in bed beside him and your breathing comes in even sweeps the way it does just before you fall asleep. Kei listens to it for a moment, admiring the sound of it and the way your chest feels expanding against his. 
He thinks about dinner, about how good it feels to have introduced you. How real it makes this relationship feel despite the uneasiness surrounding his familial situation. Kei thinks about his parents. He thinks about their inability to be good for each other. He thinks about the worst of them, something he’s familiar with, before thinking about the best of them. Kei imagines the way their faces looked at dinner, talking about the children they’re raising properly. They’re good people, they just made each other bad. Molecular shifts that changed them for the worst. The notebook theory in its most frightening form. But they were good too. 
Kei thinks about loving you. His reluctance to do so originally isn’t quite beyond him yet. He’s unsure, in fact, if he’ll ever really get past the fear of the fall, the fear of becoming what his parents made each other. But he also thinks about his promise to love you for real. Love is not something that Kei does. He knows now that it's something that happens to him, like it happened to his parents. They loved each other once, even if it made them so blind that they couldn’t see just how bad it made them. 
Kei still resents the fact that he was born to fix a marriage that never would have worked in the first place. He resents being a fix rather than a gift, but at the very least, his existence is proof that his parents cared enough about their family to try. Even if it was misguided, at least they tried even a little. 
In the quiet after of an emotionally charged evening, loving you seems like an easier task for him now. It’s not hard to love you. What’s hard, Kei thinks, is not hurting you. He carries a lot of baggage that, for a long while, felt like too much. Kei thinks he can manage if it’s for you. He’ll bear the brunt of it. He’ll put in the work. 
Yes, Kei is his parents’ son, but he’s also Tadashi’s friend, Akiteru’s brother, the person who loves you. He doesn’t live in the house with a bin full of shards and no glassware anymore. 
“Are you awake?” He whispers across the pillow. 
“Mhm,” you hum, pushing your cheek into his arm.
“Let’s move in together,” he says. 
You tense against him and slowly attempt to blink away sleep. “Are you sure?” 
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he responds. “I want to live with you.” 
“Okay then,” you smile a little. “Let’s do it.” 
In the fall, when his lease with Tadashi ends and his friend gives him a tearful, yet somewhat silly goodbye, Kei moves into your new shared apartment. Two small rooms in a modest part of town, a shared kitchen and living room, one bathroom, a mismatch of furniture from both of your old places, and an empty fridge. The first night is spent eating take out on the floor with you in front of a TV with no proper stand. Kei has never been happier. 
And in the morning, when the sun comes through the slats of his window, broken up into gentle dots by the orange-leaved trees outside, Kei rises slowly. He rises gently. Kei doesn’t want to wake you, not before he’s made breakfast. He pads out to the kitchen, where boxes are strewn about, half unpacked, and grabs the little brown notebook from the box it’s been temporarily living in. In it, he writes a grocery list full of the things you like. It’s a good enough reason, a good enough change. 
The notebook theory. 
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vimbry · 1 year
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I love this horse. this is the best one in the show. like it's just weird al yankovic? it's just him but he's horse. he looks like him as a foal and everything. I mean it's basically a canon-approved fursona and they just gave it to him. and then he's not even a one-off cameo, he comes back. and not only that, he comes back again and has a CHILD with one of the mane 6. pinkie pie wanted weird al yankovic horse. they made weird al a self-insert self-shipper.
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kiyoors · 3 months
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tsukishima kei x reader
warnings: afab! reader, mentions of unprotected sex, unclear relationship between reader and tsukki, kei is bad at feelings
you hear tsukishima shuffling in the bathroom as you lay on his bed.
looking up at his ceiling, you try to figure him out: is he the kind of guy who’ll kick a girl out after he sleeps with her? will he let you stay? should you get dressed and make a run for it while he’s busy?
instead, you stay where you are, only choosing to drape your arm over your face, the crook of your elbow resting over your eyes. you close them. you’ll leave it up to him to decide what he wants to do with you.
would he walk you home if he kicked you out?
eyes still closed, you hear him come back into the room. you brace yourself for rejection and the eventual walk of shame.
the bed dips as he kneels on it, inching closer to you.
you feel him tap the side of your naked thigh, “open your legs,” he says
you do so, choosing not to remove your arm from covering your face until you feel him clean the mess in between your thighs with a damp hand towel. you guess it’s the least he could do before kicking you out— given that most of the mess is his.
he sighs once he’s finished, discarding the rag, eyes still not meeting yours as he makes his way to the dresser across the room.
“you…” he drags the question out as he rummages through the top drawer.
“want a shirt?”
you hum, and he throws it over to you.
he’s pacing the room again, picking up the various clothing items you were each wearing before the night’s encounter.
you see him fold your pants, the shirt you were wearing, and your bra. he picks up your panties and finally, shyly, meets your gaze, cheeks coloring.
he throws these at you, too. you to put them on.
he’s back to his drawers, pulling out a clean pair of sweatpants for himself. the waistband rests low on his waist as he finally, finally, comes back to bed.
“umm,”
you take this as your cue to leave, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed, searching his room for your phone, your keys, your wallet.
“i tend to run pretty cold at night,” he begins, clearing his throat, “do you want an extra blanket incase-
“are you leaving?”
he cuts himself off when he realizes you’re collecting your belongings, your pants already in hand, waiting for you to put them on.
you feel like a deer caught in headlights. your mouth falling open into a soundless oh.
“you want me to stay?” you ask him, unsure
immediately, tsukishima gets defensive, closing himself off, “i mean, no one’s forcing you to.”
he looks away, and you feel like hitting yourself with a hammer repeatedly.
“text me when you get home.” is all he says, still not meeting your eyes.
“tsukki-”
“what.” his tone is harsh. he’s furiously picking at the skin around his cuticles.
“i-i want to stay,” you tell him, nearing him where he is sitting on the edge of his bed. while he still pretends to be upset, he’s readily parting his legs for you to nestle in between them, burrowing his head in your stomach as you stand in front of him, your fingers immediately moving to scratch his scalp the way he likes. his hands gently cup your ass, bringing you closer.
tsukishima breathes in the scent of you and him mixed together through his shirt. you’re good to him. too good sometimes.
the truth is he wants you to stay in his bed (and his heart, and his life) forever.
“call me kei,” he tells you finally, softly, “s’the least you can do after asking me to cum inside you.”
“kei,” you say, smile on your lips, savoring the syllable, “can you get me an extra blanket?”
he huffs, pulling you down to lay beside him, “you won’t need one after i’m done with you.”
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