since you were young, you'd always felt a little bit... trapped.
you weren't unhappy, by any means. from the earliest days of your childhood, you'd lived a safe, normal, perfectly satisfactory life. you had so much to show for it, too: a good family, friends, and the boy you fell in love with in high school who looked at you like there was nothing else worth seeing in the entire world.
but that's just it. you wanted to see the world. all of it. and you weren't sure that there was anything that could ever change that.
your grandfather—a former military man, though it was long before your lifetime—had a dusty old collection of american magazines he kept in his study. he got them while he was abroad, and he continued buying them for years even after he returned home. you were never able to to ask him about the reasons why he held onto them—not for lack of opportunity, but rather because you weren't sure how to find the words.
you remember the bright yellow of the magazines spines. the incredible photos inked to their pages: pyramids, glaciers, rainforests, marvels in architecture and engineering. you didn't understand the words, but you would spend hours on rainy afternoons when your grandparents were watching over you sprawled out across the floor of that dusty study, poring though those glossy prints, and longing to see them up close. to touch, smell, hear, and taste them.
it was a hunger you longed to sate.
it was a calling, growing ever louder, that eventually you couldn't ignore; no matter what it meant leaving behind, nor who.
osamu told you when you were seventeen that he never wanted to live anywhere other than japan.
you remember it like it was yesterday. you still hear it when you close your eyes. he said it so plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. like it was certain to him in ways that it would never be to you.
"why would i?" he asked you after swallowing a samu-sized bite of taiyaki, a bit of red bean paste clinging to the side of his mouth. "my ma's here. yer here. best rice in the world's here. what more do i need?"
his words made something churn in the pit of your stomach. made the taiyaki you'd only half-eaten, still warm in your hand, seem totally unappetizing.
samu was still dressed in his volleyball track suit, having raced from afternoon practice in time to take you to get an evening snack and enjoy a short walk home together. his dyed hair was still wet from the shower, since he didn't take the time to dry it in his haste to meet you. it was darker like that. a little closer to what you remember his natural hair was like before he dyed it in first year.
samu had hit a growth spurt recently—not so much in height, though he still towered over you, but rather he'd filled out in ways that made him look a bit older than that boy you'd caught a glimpse of at the inarizaki opening ceremony and never looked away from since. he seemed older. more like the man he was becoming than the boy he'd been.
you should have taken more comfort from that than you did. should have felt excitement instead of the anxiety you were left with. but even then, at only seventeen, you think you knew a clock was ticking distantly—hidden somewhere you were too afraid to look.
your grandfather died three weeks before your twentieth birthday.
samu drove all the way from kobe to kyoto and back again in the middle of the night to pick you up when you got the call from your mother that her father had taken ill. without a moment's hesitation, osamu dropped everything and brought you home to be with your family.
you were in your second year of university, half-heartedly slogging though your studies you weren't particularly interested in at a school you weren't particularly attached to, and seeing osamu whenever you could—on weekends, or holidays, or evenings when he got a night off from the restaurant he was apprenticing at in kobe. he stayed with you all night at the wake. sat by your side at the funeral.
he was part of your family now, after all these years.
he cried for your grandfather. he mourned him just like you did.
he held your hand through it all.
a week passed and you still didn't return to school. there was something wrong with you ever since it happened, like you weren't quite yourself. you ate a little and slept a lot. you holed up in your grandfather's study with those magazines again. your tears soaked into the pages and left watermarks that would never really dry the same.
osamu visited you whenever he could between shifts at the restaurant. he spent more time with you at your grandparent's house—your grandmother's house now—than he did at his own home. more than once you caught him looking at you with a strange sort of look in his eye. a glint of something behind the grey you couldn't quite place.
(it was acceptance, you know now, with aching retrospect. a stage of grief he'd come to on his own, but not over the most obvious loss.)
osamu held both your hands tightly the day you sat with him on the worn leather sofa in your grandfather's study and told him you'd taken a leave of absence from school. you both knew that calling it that was more a pretence than anything. you had no intention of ever going back.
your grandfather left you his magazines in his will. left you a note that told you to live well. a note that, in his own way, told you to be brave. he left you money too.
you planned to use it.
"i leave on tuesday," your voice was thin as you said the words. fragile like the words might break if you tried to say them any louder in that still, quiet room.
"okay," osamu replied, his grip on your hands tightening.
he didn't ask when you'd be back. you didn't have a date to tell him.
"where're ya headin' first?" is what he asked instead, and there was sincere interest in the question—an earnest excitement for you—that almost drowned out the sound of the tears thickening his throat. but not quite.
"malaysia," you told him, and then showed him a weathered photo spread of kek lok si temple. you told him you a few of the places you planned to travel next, or at least get to eventually, and showed him any magazines with images you could so he could see your destinations for himself.
"looks beautiful," osamu said, laughing a bit wetly as his head hung low, and you tucked away the photo of the five lotus-shaped towers of angkor wat. "y'must be excited."
"i am," you answered him, your voice just as strained as his own.
he looked up at you, a tear clinging to the lashes underneath his right eye in a way that shouldn't have been as pretty as it was in that late afternoon light. "i can't wait fer ya to tell me all about it."
"osamu," your voice broke on his name. the one you'd said so many times. the one that felt like home to you in ways that nothing else ever had. "i'm trying to break up with you."
you crumpled forward and he caught you in his arms. holding you tightly to his chest. he was broader than he'd ever been. his hair was dark again. he was the man you'd once been scared of meeting because you knew someday you'd have to leave him behind.
"it's okay." he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and held you even closer. the stack of dog-eared magazines at the other end of the sofa went tumbling to the floor, their glossy pages splayed out across the tatami. "it's okay, baby. i know."
he knew then that the same pull he'd always felt to stay—with his home, with his people, with his twin—is same one you'd felt to go. he couldn't keep you there with him any more than he and atsumu could be parted. it was just who you were. both of you. it was your nature.
osamu had always known that day was coming, just like you did.
he knew one day you'd leave, and he knew that on that day he'd let you.
because he loved you, and he meant it, and he wanted you to be happy, even if that meant it wasn't with him.
you keep very few photos with you now, at least physical ones. you travel fairly light. never stay anywhere for very long. it's been almost a decade now since that tuesday when you boarded your flight to malaysia—the first of many that would follow.
you haven't travelled home since you left.
the picture in your hand is damaged at one corner, burned possibly, though you can't quite remember how it happened. the mark has eaten away into the bough of the maple tree that lines the edge of the photograph. the maple tree you got confessed to under all those years ago. at the centre of the photo is a face you hardly recognize now, and another beside it you could never forget. osamu's cheek rests against the top of your head, your diplomas in your hands, smiling brightly on graduation day.
your thumbnail traces over the edge of the teenage boy's smile, your lips curling upwards.
it's raining outside the taxi you're travelling in, but if you close your eyes you can still feel the spring breeze whistling though inarizaki's campus. can still smell the lush green in the air from the freshly sprouted maple leaves. can still hear osamu's voice in your ear, moments before your mother took the photograph, telling you for the first time, in no uncertain terms, that he loves you.
"is here alright?" the taxi driver's eyes meet yours in the rearview.
you peek out the raindrop coated window at your surroundings, tucking the photograph away safely into your pocket. "yes, here's great."
you pay the taxi driver, grab your bags, and bolt towards your destination as the rain pelts down against your jacket, hiding your face under the hood as best you can to spare it from the onslaught. you shoulder the door open, a chime sounding over your head to signal your arrival, and heave a great sigh of relief.
warmth kisses your cheeks as you toss your hood back, turning your face up towards new smells that welcome you into the restaurant. it's a hole in the wall—up a side street, away from the real bustle of the city, but it looks just as welcoming as the online reviews had said. it's not particularly busy, just a customer or two dotted around the little restaurant, but you wager that has more to do with the miserable weather than that quality of the food.
you adjust you grip on your bags, slinging the heaviest one off your shoulder and into a neat pile at your feet as you take a seat at the counter.
a voice calls out from behind the curtain that hangs over the kitchen door—you can't quite make out what they say, but assume it's an assurance they'll be with you in a moment. you're in no rush, especially not when it's so nice and warm in here and so wretched outside.
you pull your cellphone from your pocket. the photograph slips out with it. you place both on the counter in front of you and think, not for the first time, about picking up the phone and calling osamu. about hearing him greet you with that smile in his voice he could never hide.
"sorry about the wait," your server slips out from behind the curtain, stepping up to you at the counter.
"there's no need to apologize, i'm not in any rush," your assurance is accompanied by a light laugh.
"you sure?" your server asks.
"i just got off a twenty hour flight, i'm not in much of a hurry to go anywhere."
"twenty hours? sounds rough," your server whistles lowly as he leans against the counter on his elbows, tilting his face up so you can catch a glimpse of grey eyes under the brim of his black cap. there's a smile on his lips that feels like being seventeen again. a warmth in his voice that sounds like spring breezes rustling through maple leaves. "so, wanna tell me all about it?"
— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]
— look at this idiotic fool that you made me ; cherish every seconds you have cause you never know when it’ll turn upside down
author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language
[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]
The night stretches long and silent, cloaking your room in a stillness that feels both comforting and stifling. You've been lying there for hours, staring at the white ceiling, tracing invisible patterns with your eyes, trying to will yourself to sleep. But the quiet isn't enough to lull you into rest. Your thoughts keep drifting back to the dinner, the awkward exchanges, the warmth in Tsukishima's gaze that you can't seem to shake.
You roll over in bed, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders, your pink pajamas soft against your skin, but they offer no comfort tonight. The room feels empty now that your parents are gone, their voices and presence lingering only in your memory. It’s strange, this quiet solitude—something you used to cherish before all these new feelings started creeping into your heart.
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the bright screen cutting through the darkness. You grab it, blinking to adjust your eyes, and frown when you see the name on the screen.
Tsukishima ; You still up?
Your heart skips a beat, confusion mingling with curiosity. It’s late—much too late for him to be messaging you, especially after saying goodbye to your parents just hours ago. Without thinking, your fingers move swiftly across the screen.
Yeah, why?
His reply comes almost instantly, making your pulse quicken: I’m outside the building. Can you meet me here?
You sit up abruptly, the blanket pooling around your waist as your mind tries to process what he just said. Outside? At this hour? You rub your eyes and glance at the clock—it’s almost midnight. What could he possibly want? For a second, you consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets the better of you.
Throwing the blanket off, you slip your feet into your slippers and grab your student ID before rushing out of your room, your footsteps muffled by the carpeted hallway. The dormitory feels eerily quiet, the soft hum of the heating system the only sound accompanying you as you reach the entrance. The cold air hits you the moment you step outside, and you shiver, cursing yourself for not grabbing a jacket.
Then you see him. Tsukishima, standing just outside the entrance, bathed in the dim glow of the streetlights. He’s wearing his usual hoodie, hands buried deep in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he waits for you. His tall frame is relaxed, yet there’s an intensity in the way he looks at you that makes your breath catch in your throat.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice a little breathless from both the cold and the sudden rush of adrenaline. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to retain some warmth.
Tsukishima’s eyes scan you from head to toe, lingering for a second on your pajamas before meeting your gaze. “It’s cold out here,” he says simply, his voice steady, but there’s an undertone you can’t quite place.
You blink, confused. “Yeah, I know. It’s almost midnight. Why—?”
“And yet you didn’t wear a hoodie before heading out?” He cuts you off, his eyes narrowing slightly as if your lack of common sense is somehow personal to him.
Your mouth opens and closes, flustered by his bluntness. “I—I didn’t think I’d need one. I didn’t plan on staying outside long,” you mumble, suddenly feeling exposed under his sharp gaze.
Tsukishima sighs, the sound filled with mild exasperation, but before you can protest, he’s already unzipping his hoodie. The fabric rustles softly in the quiet night as he drapes it over your shoulders, his hands brushing against your arms as he adjusts it on you. The warmth from his hoodie seeps into your skin, and you’re enveloped in the faint scent of him—clean, slightly musky, with a hint of something fresh and familiar.
You stand there, frozen, as Tsukishima takes it a step further and zips up the hoodie for you, his fingers lingering on the zipper for a beat too long before he steps back. His silence feels like a command, one you don’t dare disobey.
He doesn't say anything, but the way his eyes linger on you makes your heart race. It’s as if he’s silently telling you to wear it—no arguments. You swallow, nodding slightly, unsure of how to respond.
“Come on.” His voice is softer now, as he reaches for your hand, the warmth of his palm sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. He tugs you gently, guiding you toward his car parked a few feet away.
You follow, too stunned to speak, your mind still reeling from the sudden shift in his demeanor. The wind whips through the open space, biting at your cheeks and making your hair whip around your face. Tsukishima, always composed, doesn’t flinch from the cold, his steps measured and steady as he opens the passenger door for you.
You hesitate for a second, looking at him with wide eyes, but he merely raises an eyebrow, silently urging you to get in. You comply, sliding into the seat as he shuts the door behind you with a quiet click. The interior of his car is warm, a stark contrast to the frigid air outside. You watch as he walks around to the back seat, retrieving something before climbing into the driver’s seat beside you.
When he sits down, there’s a small bakery box in his hands. You tilt your head, confused again, until he opens it to reveal two chocolate muffins, each with a small candle sticking out of the top.
Your mouth drops open slightly. “What…?”
“You didn’t get to eat your cake at dinner,” he explains, his voice casual as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter. “So I brought you something.”
You stare at the muffins, your chest tightening with a mixture of surprise and something else you can’t quite name. “You…did this for me?”
He lights the candles one by one, the soft glow illuminating his face as he nods. “Your mom isn’t around, so you can eat this without her knowing, right?”
His words make you laugh, a light, breathless sound that escapes before you can stop it. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away quickly, smiling at him through the soft haze of candlelight.
“You didn’t have to do this,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat as the weight of his gesture sinks in.
Tsukishima shrugs, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Make a wish.”
You stare at him for a moment, your heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something you’re not quite ready to name. Then, closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and make a wish, blowing out the candles as the soft flames flicker and die.
When you open your eyes, Tsukishima is watching you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your chest tighten all over again. And in that quiet, intimate moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hoodie and the dim glow of the candles, you realize something: you’re no longer alone in the dark.
The warm glow from the streetlamp outside cast a gentle light into the car, highlighting the small, cozy space you shared with Tsukishima. You reached into the box with a soft smile, pulling out the first muffin and holding it toward him.
“Here’s the first one for you,” you teased lightly, eyes sparkling. “You get to eat first ‘cause you’re special.”
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. “I do?” He placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Well, thank you, I’m honored.”
You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his playful response. That sweet laugh—the one that always escaped when you felt at ease, when it was just the two of you. You took a bite of your muffin, the flavor melting in your mouth. “Oh wow, this is so good. Where did you get these?”
Tsukishima hummed in acknowledgment, swallowing his bite before answering. “You won’t be able to get these again,” he began, his tone casual but hinting at something more thoughtful, “I found a random cake shop still open late—“
“All for me?” You interrupted him, grinning cheekily as you leaned in a little closer, the air between you becoming more playful, yet intimate.
Tsukishima sighed softly, shaking his head with a small smile. “Yeah… all for you.”
The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind of silence that felt like a warm blanket draped over the two of you. As you ate your muffins, you exchanged small, shy glances, and each look seemed to speak louder than words could. There was something special in the air tonight—something you both felt but weren’t quite ready to address.
Just as you were about to take another bite, Tsukishima’s voice dropped to a low whisper, catching you by surprise. “Have I told you this before?” he began, his gaze softening as he looked at you, “you have a really beautiful smile.”
You froze, your heart skipping a beat as his words hung in the air. His eyes held a sincerity that made your chest tighten. You blinked, feeling your cheeks flush. “No, you haven’t… but thanks,” you replied shyly, your fingers nervously playing with the muffin wrapper. “You… you have a really nice smile too,” you added, your voice barely audible as you glanced at him bashfully.
Without realizing it, the space between you had slowly diminished. His presence felt closer, warmer, as if the barrier that had always been there had quietly melted away. You couldn’t help but admire the way his glasses framed his face, how his soft eyelashes cast delicate shadows across his skin. His nose scrunched slightly, his brow furrowed in that usual way when he was concentrating, yet somehow, you’d never noticed before how undeniably handsome he was.
Before you could fully process your thoughts, Tsukishima’s hand gently reached out. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your heart race. The pad of his thumb softly caressed your cheek, and your breath caught in your throat at the sudden contact.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath but carrying so much warmth, so much meaning.
Your lips curled into a soft smile as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the simple happiness that bubbled in your chest. You had never felt this kind of joy before, a joy that was soft and warm, that made you feel completely seen—like you mattered in ways you hadn’t realized until this very moment.
Then, Tsukishima handed you another small box. You blinked, confused at first, before your curiosity took over. “What’s this?” you asked, a mix of excitement and surprise coloring your voice.
He gave you a lopsided grin. “Your present—obviously,” he said with his usual teasing edge, though there was a softness to his tone now, an almost shy undertone.
You opened the box, and inside was a delicate bracelet. Its design was simple yet elegant, a perfect reflection of your style. You gasped, eyes widening as you stared at it, then back at him. “No way, seriously?” You covered your mouth with your hand in disbelief, your heart swelling with joy.
Tsukishima chuckled softly, his fingers gently taking the bracelet from the box as he clasped it around your wrist. His touch was light, but the simple action sent a jolt of warmth through you. “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.
“I love it!” you exclaimed, your excitement overflowing as you reached out and squeezed his hand without thinking. “Thank you so much.”
He didn’t say anything, just smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. And in that moment, your gaze locked with his, and the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The silence between you was no longer awkward or empty—it was filled with something unspoken but deeply understood.
Your fingers, almost on their own, intertwined with his. You squeezed his hand gently, feeling the nervous energy building inside you, but it wasn’t the kind of nervousness that made you uneasy. It was the kind that made you feel alive, like something important was about to happen.
You opened your mouth, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I like you,” you whispered, the confession hanging in the air between you. Your voice trembled slightly as you continued, feeling your heart pound against your chest. “I don’t know when it started, but… you always make me feel seen. I… I really like you, Tsukishima. I can’t stop thinking about you, and sometimes I feel like my heart’s going to burst because it’s all just too much. I—”
You stopped abruptly, noticing the subtle shift in his expression. His teasing smile had vanished, replaced by something unreadable. Slowly, he pulled away from you, retreating back into his seat, his gaze now fixed on the windshield. The warmth that had filled the car moments ago suddenly felt cold, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.
Your heart dropped, and you blinked rapidly to push away the sting of tears. “I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to say anything. I—”
You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The awkwardness hung thick in the air, suffocating your chest. You glanced at him, hoping for any response, but Tsukishima remained silent, staring out of the window.
Feeling a sharp pang of rejection, you hastily removed his hoodie, folding it neatly before opening the car door. “Thanks for tonight,” you murmured, your voice wavering. “I—really appreciated it.”
Before he could respond, you stepped out of the car and shut the door, your legs carrying you swiftly back to the dorm. Tears blurred your vision as you reached the building, your heart aching with every step.
By the time you reached your room, your heart felt heavy, and the thoughts spiraled in your mind. You threw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the pillow.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself, replaying the events of the night over and over again. All this time, you thought you had seen something in his actions—the compliments, the gentle moments, the way he seemed to go out of his way to help you. But now… you weren’t so sure.
Was it all in your head? Was Tsukishima just being kind, and you had misread the signs? You weren’t sure of anything anymore, except for one thing: your heart ached with every beat.
The dorm room felt colder than usual as you curled into a tight ball on your bed, hugging your knees close to your chest. The bracelet on your wrist shimmered faintly under the low light of your lamp, reminding you of the bittersweet memory that had unfolded just moments ago. Your confession replayed in your mind—over and over again—each repetition twisting your heart a little tighter.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the embarrassment that bubbled up inside you. Tsukishima’s silence, his sudden retreat, it all played like a bad dream. And now, you weren’t even sure if you could face him again.
Burying your face into the pillow, you let out a frustrated groan, “Why did I say that? Why now?”
But no matter how many times you questioned it, the truth remained: you liked him. There was no denying it anymore, no pretending that your feelings weren’t there. They were real, and they had spilled out of you like water breaking through a dam.
Maybe you should’ve waited. Maybe you should’ve held back a little longer, but then, how much longer could you have gone pretending that your heart didn’t skip a beat every time he smiled at you?
Every girl in school likes Tsukishima Kei. Everyone knows he's the popular tall boy who helped take the school volleyball team to the nationals. Naturally, he's the target of various confessions per week. He's certain at least of every class has confessed to him. And then, there's you. The mysterious girl that silently hangs out with him on the rooftop of the school building. All he knows about you is that you're in the same classmas Hinata and Kageyama. That is, until you come up with a proposition he finds it hard to deny.
w.c.: 6.7k
hi. fake relationship. high school. feelings. sorry if this feels rushed towards the end, ive been writing this since januray 2023. crossposted on ao3
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The sky is a nice blue, and you enjoy the view as you lean on the rails of the roof on your lunch break, basking on the sunlight and the cool wind breeze mother nature decided to bless you this afternoon. Despite your friends having lunch in the classroom, you like being alone at this time of the day. It's the only time you have to yourself. After this, you'll have classes and club activities, and then you'll have to get home and have homework to do and study and won’t have even a single thought to yourself.
This is why you sigh silently when you hear a stranger's voice coming from behind you. Right at the corner of the roof, where they can't see you, there's a girl confessing her crush to the same tall boy who hangs out silently on the same roof as you. You look over your shoulder and see her handing him a pink envelope, bowing and leaving. The boy just stares at it, in silence, adjusts his glasses and walks over to the trash can by the rail where he tosses the envelope.
You scoff at him.
“Shut up,” Tsukishima tells you.
“I didn’t say anything.” You protest and look back at the sight the school building provides, “Although, that's what? The third one this week?”
“Tch.” He joins you on the railing and doesn't say anything for a moment. “I tried coming here for a break, but they keep finding me.”
You roll your eyes, “Oh, the struggle.”
The mocking tone makes him sigh, irritation coursing through his veins. You're one of the few girls that haven't had a crush on or haven't confessed to him. That he knows. And it's not like he takes pride in it, being one of the popular guys in school and having girls falling for him daily. Sure, it was fun in the first year of high school, but now, in his last, he just wants to focus on graduating and getting into a nice university, moving on with life.
Then, there's you. The mysterious girl he met on the roof of the school's building that he knows nothing about. All he knows about you is that you're in the same class as Hinata’s and he'll be dead before he asks him about you. For now, he'll just hang out silently with you and bask on the unspoken agreement that you two have.
“Why don't you give one of them a chance?” You break the silence and Tsukishima exhales sharply as he remembers Yamaguchi saying these same words to him once. He ducks his head for a moment, then pushes himself off the railing.
“Don't you have better things to do?” He asks, looking straight into your eyes.
“Nope,” You smirk at him, knowing you're getting on his nerves. A laugh escapes your lips as he clicks his tongue. He has pretty eyes, though.
“What about you?” He asks, leaning his forearms on the railing again, “Surely there must be someone—”
It's your turn to click your tongue, irritated. The subject annoys you too much, especially when the creepy boys from your club come to mind every time, and Tsukishima falls silent, knowing it's dangerous territory. The both of you fall into a comfortable silence again, once more enjoying what you came in search of: peace of mind.
Except your mind is not at peace at all. You barely know this kid, just that he's on the masculine volleyball team and that they went to the nationals once and it was a pretty big deal at the time. And that he's tall. And handsome. And that pretty much all girls in school fall for him because of all that. You're not so sure why so many girls tend to confess to him anyway. Tsukishima is a bit rude and harsh when you meet him. At least he was when you met him. At first, it made you back away from him as far as possible. How could a girl even want to be his girlfriend?
And then a thought hits you.
“You know...” You pick at your nails, eyes down to the other students far away from you, “I could pretend to be your girlfriend to keep those girls away...”
Tsukishima's eyes bore to you, but you're still looking down. At first, he thinks you're joking, but the look on your face tells him you're serious about it. Still, he can't help but be sarcastic about it because, well, that's just who he is.
“You'd do that for me.” The cynicism is clear on his voice, and you end up rolling your eyes, but smile as you look back at him, shrugging.
“You'd keep the creeps away.”
This, he wasn't expecting. He tries to hide the surprise on his face but fails to. Then, he falls into his usual Tsukishima face and scoffs, pushing himself out of the rail and turning his back to walk away. You sigh deeply and lean your chin on your forearms, enjoying the last minutes of your lunch break, knowing the bell will ring soon and you'll have to get back to your classroom.
…
It's not until two days later that you hear of Tsukishima again. You're doing some homework in advance on your break, since it’s pouring outside and you can't go to the roof today, when one of your classmates calls your name and tells you he's looking for you. The hallway is packed with people, and it annoys him that his earphones are out of battery so he can't listen to music like he always does, so when you meet him outside your classroom the frown between his brows is almost popping up a vein, you're sure of it.
“What's up?” You say, pretending not to notice the large vein on his forehead. Oh, he's pissed at something and you're dying to see it.
“C'mon,” he simply says and turns his back. When you don't follow, confused at his command, he sighs sharply and pulls you by the wrist. You try to protest, but you're very aware everyone is watching as he pulls you through the hallway towards a more private place. When he's sure no one is around, Tsukishima stops by the stairs between the first and second floors, where Hinata swore to him he once saw a ghost there.
“Damn, what happened?” You ask, frowning at the strong grip on your wrist.
“I'll do it.”
You pause, looking way up at his height that towers you. It should intimidate you, it should make you back away, especially after you saw the way he treats people... but you don't.
“Do what?”
He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Are you really gonna make him say it? Fine, so be it. What's a little pride anyway? He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes.
“I'll pretend to be your boyfriend... to keep the creeps away.”
“Oh. That.” You had forgotten about it already. So, he wants in, then? “O-okay.”
“Okay.” He parrots and his eyes travel through your shoulder to your arm and notes how he's still gripping your wrist like there's no tomorrow. Tsukishima quickly lets go of you like you have the plague, then clears his throat, a faint shade of red painting his cheekbones, “S-so, how do we do this?”
You shrug, “We spend time together on breaks, go home holding hands, all that couple stuff, you know.”
On the outside, your behavior is nonchalant, but your hands are shaking with nervousness. You’re about to fake an entire relationship with a guy you barely know.
“Right.” Tsukishima nods, “I have club activities until six, though.”
“Me too. You can wait for me outside gymnasium five, the one with the pool. Just make sure you're seen.”
A groan bubbles up in his throat, but he swallows it down. Isn't being seen the main objective here? So, he just nods and exhales softly as he closes his eyes.
“Don't worry,” you say, realizing he looks worried about your plan, “I won't make you kiss me or anything... unless you want me to.”
Tsukishima opens his eyes and blushes furiously, a frown growing between his brows. You let a laugh escape your lips, genuinely having fun with his reaction. That until someone starts descending the stairs, interrupting their moment. It's the girl from that day on the roof, the one that handed the letter over to Tsukishima when you were there. She looks at him and then looks at you, a small frown between her eyebrows. For a moment, you think she's going to say something, but she just walks past you both and quickly makes her way to the first floor. When you look back at him, his skin is bright red, and his eyes are everywhere but on you.
“Well, you gotta do better than that if you want to convince people we're together.” You actually smile at the view.
He just huffs and walks away from you.
…
The rain has stopped by the time you're done with your club activities. You make sure to leap out of the pool and power walk to the dressing rooms.
“No running around the pool!” Your professor says and you apologize, but don't stop, ripping the goggles and swimming cap from your head.
“Someone's in a hurry today!” You hear a remark, probably from one the first years, and ignore them as you quickly enter the dressing room and start undressing.
You don't even bother to wash off the chlorine from your hair, just a quick douche and you're already putting your uniform on again. Almost knocking a second year down, you bust out of the dressing room, making your way outside.
No sight of Tsukishima.
All that work for nothing. You sigh, deciding to wait a couple of minutes, but he doesn't show up. Did he change his mind? He would've let you know if that was the case, right?
As you start walking around the school to make your way to the volleyball gymnasium, you feel embarrassed to be that excited to see him. Maybe you should’ve washed your hair, maybe it was stupid to rush like that.
Trapped in your own thoughts, you don’t see the tall presence in front of you as you turn a corner to reach the gymnasium. The strong body collides with you, and it sends you back, your feet tripping on each other making you almost fall on your ass.
His hands reach for you, holding you in place.
Tsukishima’s eyes look down at you, honey colored pupils staring at you confused. For a second you think your heart skips a beat with the way he holds your upper arms, the warmth of his hands radiating to your own skin.
“I thought you said to be outside gymnasium five,” he says, pulling you back from your thoughts.
“Y-you didn’t show up.” You manage to say.
He sighs, letting go of you. “Sorry. Coach held us a bit back there.”
Tsukishima pulls his phone out of his bag and only then you notice he’s wearing his club’s uniform. He didn’t have time to change and was going to see you right away.
“Oh.” You say, watching the way his eyes scan whatever is on his phone. He looks at you and you feel heat on your cheeks, looking away. In the distance, a boy with brown hair and a blonde girl are looking puzzled at the both of you. You take a deep breath and look back at him, the corners of your mouth curving into a smile. “It’s okay! Meeting here is better anyway.”
Tsukishima then remembers he didn’t give an explanation to his teammates on why he wasn’t going to change, saying he just needed to be somewhere else. His ears turn pink when he realizes they’re still lingering outside the door and witnessing this interaction.
“Walk me home?” You smile at him.
He just nods. Walking you home is probably the best way to be seen together. Side eyeing Yamaguchi and Yachi, he walks by your side as you guide him towards the exit.
He'd have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow.
…
“Are you and Tsukishima from class four together?” It’s the first thing you hear when you enter the classroom the next day. Your friend grabs your shoulders and looks right into your eyes.
“U-uh…” you clutch your bag and swallow hard, thinking of what to say, “Yeah, we’re–“ you swallow hard again, “We’re together.”
Her eyes widens and she opens her mouth, but you interrupt whatever she is about to say.
“Don’t scream.” You manage to get free from her grip.
“Wait, but Yuuki from class two confessed to him yesterday! She said he said he wasn’t interested.” She follows you to your seat.
“Oh, really?” you say as you sit down, watching as she pulls a chair to sit beside you.
“And Maki saw you two in the hallway at lunch and started crying, ‘cause she also confessed to him this week.” You think back to the moment a familiar girl ran into you two by the stairs. You kinda feel bad for making a girl cry, but you’re sure Tsukishima will like that the girls already fell for your fake relationship. When you don’t say anything, your friend keeps talking, “Maki said he seemed interested in her, though.”
“Oh, trust me, he wasn’t.” You laugh, remembering how he immediately threw her love letter in the trashcan when she left.
“What?”
“What?” You look back at her.
“You’re acting so weird…” She frowns at you.
Swallowing, you shrug, “I don't know what you’re talking about.”
Luckily, the bell rings and you silently thank time for being so on point. Your friend goes back to her seat, and you sigh relieved.
Who would’ve known lying would be so hard?
…
“So, is it true?” Yamaguchi asks as he approaches the net to block a spike from the other team.
Coach made them split into groups of three to play against each other and Tsukishima was stuck with a freshman and Yamaguchi.
“What is?” He asks after jumping and blocking the spike successfully.
“That you’re with that girl from class one.”
He looks at Yamaguchi and understands why he’s been acting weird all day. Ever since he saw you together, he’s been acting as if he wants to say something.
Tsukishima says your name.
“Yeah,” he then says, “It’s true.”
He doesn’t see it, but he knows Yamaguchi is smiling at him, that hopeful, shit eating grin he hates so much.
“I knew someday–“
“Save it.” Tsukishima interrupts him.
“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?”
Yamaguchi had been saying for weeks that the girl who sits on the roof during lunch time and Tsukishima would end up together someday. Something to do with spending too much time with her, ‘specially if she hasn’t confessed’ like he said. Yamaguchi was actually so wrong about it, but he let him have it by grunting a response.
He felt bad enough lying to his best friend already.
“So who confessed first?”
…
“He did, obviously,” you answer your friend’s question.
A day later, in P.E., she asked if it was you who confessed to him. She couldn’t let go of your – fake – relationship with Tsukishima, asking you questions about him and how it happened, if you both had kissed and went out on dates already.
It usually wouldn’t bother you, since you don’t really like Tsukishima that way, but the number of questions she’s asking makes you think she’s the one who has a crush on him. It makes you feel weird on the inside, as if something is wrong.
“You must’ve really impressed him,” she says as you both complete another lap around the soccer field, “I heard he’s…”
“He’s what?” you ask as she trails away. You both come to a stop, panting and sweating and you wait for her response, but she just shrugs.
“What?” You insist.
“Just… that he’s cold towards girls.”
You stare at her. It’s not like you’re offended by her statement, she’s actually right. You’ve never seen Tsukishima acting differently with any other girl, or boy, or anyone. It’s just the way he is. But why would that be a problem? You’re not really together.
…
“Rumors sure do fly fast.” You mumble as you walk down the street, Tsukishima by your side. He hums an answer, “Have any girls bothered you yet?”
“No, but it's only been a week.”
A chuckle leaves your lips. Crossed arms, you shiver as a cold breeze rushes past you.
“Any creeps bother you?”
You side eye him, smirking, “It's only been a week.”
The silence that follows walks on the line between comfortable and awkward. You want to say more, have a conversation with him, but it seems Tsukishima was comfortable with the silence between you two. And it's not like you have to be friends with him for this plan to work.
It's only been a week, but you've learned that Tsukishima is a quiet, reserved guy. Always listening to music, always in his own world. You don’t want to force him much.
Another cold breeze rushes past you and the shivers on your skin make you tremble. A sign the cold weather is about to come. Tightening the grip on yourself, you take a deep breath, trying to control the involuntary shivers, until you feel something warm around your shoulders.
His school club jacket.
You pause your steps to look at him, now sporting just his shirt and shorts. It takes him a second to realize you've stopped, so he looks back at you and raises a brow. The corners of your mouth pull into an amused smile, and he rolls his eyes at you, resuming his walk.
“We're supposed to be pretending, aren't we?” he says, shrugging. The smile on your face grows bigger, but you don't mention that no one from school is around, “Also, you're gonna get sick with your wet hair.”
You want to thank him and say you won't, but you're too afraid it'll scare him off. For now, you just bask in the warmth of his jacket as he walks you home.
…
Two weeks later, you don't show up at school for three days. On the fourth day, a shy girl approached Tsukishima saying she was the class rep for class one and asked if he could take you some homework you missed. He tried saying he had practice after school, but she insisted, since he was her boyfriend.
He thought about just showing up at your house after practice, but his guts told him he should check on you.
You live on the way to his house anyway, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt. At the end of the day, he tells Yamaguchi he’s going to skip practice, and, to his surprise, he just smiles at him, giving a knowing look.
“What?” Tsukki stares at his best friend.
Yamaguchi just shrugs, “Nothing.”
Tsukishima suspected something was on his mind, but he said nothing as he kept that look on his face.
The walk to your place is pleasant and quiet, just the way he likes it. He missed being able to be with his own thoughts, listening to his favorite band and just... being alone. But at the same time, walking by himself feels strange now. In the past week, he’s grown so accustomed to your presence that, when you missed classes, he...
He missed you.
Halting his steps at the realization, he notices your house at the top of the small hill. His heart does something that he doesn’t recognize. A feeling deep inside bothers him to the point he thinks it’s just a stomachache.
He also didn’t stop to think about how to introduce himself to your parents. The feeling only gets worse as he approaches your front door and rings the doorbell, expecting an adult to come to get him.
‘Just hand them the homework and leave’, he thinks to himself as he hears footsteps approaching and the door being unlocked.
To his surprise, it’s you who opens the door.
Pink colors his cheekbones as he notices you’re in your pajamas: sweatpants and a tank top that reveals much more than what his imagination can go. Your hair is a little messy and your face... You look so sleepy that he feels his heart skip a beat.
“Tsukki?” You say with a rough voice, bringing him back to reality, “What- what happened?”
“I-I...” He stutters and then clears his throat, “I brought your homework...”
Tsukishima digs through his backpack to get the stack of papers and hand it to you.
“Homework?” You say, frowning, “Isn’t that the class rep’s job?”
“Yeah, but she gave it to me instead.”
You scoff, taking the papers from him, which causes a coughing fit. At this moment the wind passes through you and you shiver.
“Get inside,” Tsukki tells you, “you’ll get worse.”
“Well, come in then.”
You give him space to walk inside your home. He does without thinking much nor hesitating. It’s like he’s always been here, like entering his best friend’s house.
“Are you alone?” he asks, taking in the living room. A blanket lays on the couch and the TV is paused on some movie you were watching.
“Yeah, my mom is working.”
You guide him to the living room, bunching up the blanket on a corner and giving him space to sit.
“And your dad?” he asks, carefully.
“On a work trip.”
“Oh.”
The silence that follows is definitely awkward enough for Tsukishima to be uncomfortable. He’s never been in a situation like this, alone with a girl in her house. It makes him nervous. Especially because it’s you.
“Would you like some tea?” Your offer comes right before another cough fit, followed by a sneeze.
Tsukishima sighs and reaches for the bunched up blanket beside you — trying to ignore how close you are —, wrapping it around your shoulders.
“Told you you’d get sick.” He mumbles, pulling the blanket so it gets right around you.
“Sorry.”
“Tch- don’t be sorry. I’ll make some tea.”
He stands up and goes toward the open kitchen, leaving you staring at his back as he walks away. Tsukki acts like he’s been at your place a million times: fills the electric kettle, looks for the tea in the cabinets and takes some honey from the counter. It’s only natural, he wants you to feel better.
And here you are, sick as a street dog, watching his movements with attention. His shirt rises when he stretches to reach the tea at the top cabinet – after you tell him where it is – and you see some hair on his lower abdomen. Your face immediately burns, but you can’t look away. You can’t help but stare. And you hate to admit it, but you like what you see.
“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, and you snap to reality.
“Uh, yeah, yeah.” You clear your throat and finally look away.
Tsukishima pours one cup for you and one for him. You watch his hands as he settles down on the couch again, his slender fingers hugging the ceramic of the mug as he hands it to you. When you take it, his skin brushes against yours gently. You feel your skin heating up again.
If he notices, he says nothing. You take a sip from the tea and almost burn your tongue at the temperature, but your eyes are fixated on his hands. The protuberant veins on his pale skin and the size of his palms, his fingers. One of them catches your attention, his pinky finger is different from the others.
“What?” his voice brings you back to reality and you look at him to find him staring back.
You don't know why you decide to go with the truth.
“Your pinky.”
He gives you a puzzled look. Clearing your throat, you speak louder.
“Your right pinky. It's different.”
Tsukishima raises his hand to show you his crooked finger. “Oh. I broke it in the finals for the Spring tournament in my first year. They just taped it together and it never healed right.”
“Oh...” without thinking much, you reach for his hand, your finger pads rubbing against the curve of his pinky. The warmth from his skin radiates to yours and you like the sensation of his hands on yours.
“I thought the whole school was there...” He mumbles and you let go of his hand. The warmth for your tea isn't sufficient to warm the lack of his touch.
“If it was in Spring, I wasn't.” You sigh, “Swimming trials start in April. I was trying to get into the Summer swimming competition.”
“Did you get in?”
“No,” you say with a smile, “but I watched the Nationals.”
“Oh?” His eyes light up a little and you think it's adorable.
“Yeah, on the TV.” You see him visibly deflate. You don't think he knows he's doing that, but you don't mention it anyway, “It was pretty exciting. You guys deserved it.”
Tsukishima looks at you as if he discovered a new star. It's not written on his face, but you can see it in his eyes, and you don’t know if it’s the fever or something else, but your chest constricts and your stomach churns. There’s a silence, tense seconds pass by.
“Can I ask you something?” Tsukki asked and you nodded, encouraging him to do it, “Who are the creeps you always talk about?”
Your smile fades away and your eyes tear the gaze from his. Sighing, you consider giving an evasive answer or just lying, but you decide to tell him the truth.
“Just some guys from the boys swimming team. Sometimes they watch our practice and make comments about me.”
“What kind of comments?” He breathes, trying to control his anger. Tsukki didn’t want you to realize he felt protective of you, but with his flushed face and inflated nostrils, he couldn’t hide much.
“Just some nasty comments about my body.”
A tense pause hangs heavily between you both. Tsukishima is thinking of all the ways he can beat up those creeps. It's weird that he feels so protective of you, you’re not really his girlfriend, but hearing you talk about this and not doing anything about it feels wrong.
“It’s not just me, though.” you continue, “It’s all the girls.”
“Your coach doesn’t say anything?”
“We tried to tell her once, and she did talk to their coach, but it only made the insults worse...”
He says your name, making you look at him. You see something in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before.
“If you want, I can—”
“No, it’s fine, I—”
“Hey.” Tsukishima grabs your shoulders, with the intention of forcing you to look at him and listen. His touch burns on your skin, and you grow hot as his amber eyes stare intensely into yours, “This is why we’re doing this, right? You said it yourself, I'd keep the creeps away.”
You pause for a second wondering why he’s suddenly acting like this. “Y-yeah, but you don’t have to do anything... I... I thought that if they saw I had a boyfriend, they would stop, but...”
“They didn’t.” He finishes your sentence. You just shake your head, looking away.
Tsukishima suddenly feels the urge to kiss you, to make your pain go away. His eyes stare at your lips for a moment as he wonders if they’re as soft as they look. He wonders how they would feel against his own lips, against his skin, against—
You look back at him, eyes meeting his, a curious expression on your face, as if you know what he’s thinking about. Then, he suddenly stands up from the couch, startling you.
“I-I should go,” he says, clearing his throat, “but once you feel better and you go back to school, I’ll deal with the creeps.”
You stand up from your spot as well, meeting his eyes, “Tsukki, I—”
“It’s not up for discussion.” His voice sounds lower, darker even. It lights a fire in you that you don’t recognize. “Text me if you need anything.”
With that, he leaves your house, leaving you to feel confused and puzzled.
…
The following week, you finally feel better enough to go back to school. The flu has gotten better, but you’re still not able to swim – medical orders – until you feel one hundred percent well. So after classes, you just hang out at the library until Tsukishima is done with practice. You miss swimming, but the peace and quiet of the library is a nice break from your hectic days. Or at least it was. As soon as they entered the place, you knew you were going to have a hard time.
Their comments about your swimming abilities, your body, your hair and even your – fake – relationship with Tsukishima, come to your mind and you quickly slip out of the place before they can notice you. You hate that they have such an effect on you like that, you want to admit you don't care, but you do. Of course you do, when they're calling you names and laughing at everything you do.
Walking around the school, you find yourself at the volleyball gymnasium, staring at the open door. Inside, Tsukki and his friends are doing serving and receiving exercises, and, before you can think too much about it, you cross the entry, passing through the protective net used to keep the balls from escaping.
A ball flies over your head and hits the wall beside you, making you gasp and jump in your place. Everyone looks at you. Swallowing, you quickly remove your shoes and offer them a small bow before running to the bleachers.
Tsukki looks at you with a puzzled face, and then jumps at the sound of the coach barking some orders. The rest of practice goes like it usually does, except there's a tiny voice inside his head telling him that you're watching. Deep down, he feels like he has to practice harder, do better, just because you're watching. By the end of the practice, he's sweating, overheating and catching his breath more than usual.
He avoided looking at the bleachers during practice, but now, when he takes a peek, he catches you staring at him. You quickly look away, heat creeping on your cheeks. He can't help but smile.
Days are getting dark sooner now, so when you leave the gymnasium to meet him, it's already dusk. The sky is a mixture of bright oranges and blues. You wait for him to get changed into his uniform as you watch the sun go away. A cold breeze rushes through you and you shiver, wishing you'd brought your uniform jacket instead of just a sweater.
A warm fabric falls on your shoulders, the familiar scent of fabric softener and Omnigel immediately invading your nostrils. Tsukishima's large hand rests on the top of your head, catching you by surprise. There's no one around to show off your fake relationship, so the affectionate gesture confuses you.
“Hey,” you say, forcing a smile.
“What's wrong?” He asks, noticing your glassy eyes.
“Nothing,” you respond too quickly.
He stares at you, amber eyes studying you with suspicion, “You have a weird look on your face.”
“It's just my face.”
Tsukki says your name, making you sigh and close your eyes. How is he able to read you so easily like this?
“Was it the creeps?” He asks, and you cringe, “What did they do?”
When you look at Tsukishima, you notice the anger and his eyes. Heat creeps on your cheeks at the thought of him protecting you.
“N-nothing.” You stutter, “I was at the library and they came in… They didn't even see me though!” You quickly add, “I just– I just didn't want to face them…”
He keeps quiet for a moment until he takes your hand in a bold move.
“Tomorrow we're going to face them,” He says matter-of-factly, dragging you away from the gymnasium.
“Tsu–”
“This is why we're doing this.” He interrupts you, “I don't care what you think they're gonna say, we're gonna show you're mine now.”
As quick as the words leave his mouth, he freezes, eyes wide, cheeks red in embarrassment. He doesn't look at you, as he stops walking, hand squeezing yours harder.
“Kei…” you say, stomach doing somersaults, breath quickening.
“Shut up.” He pulls you away, walking faster.
The rest of the walk home is spent in silence.
…
Tsukishima couldn't remember the last time he rode a bike to school, but here he is at your doorstep, hands on the handlebars tightening their grip. He wasn't sure if you'd want to see him after what he said last night, but when he knocked on your door, the look on your face changed from surprised to amused. You asked for a minute to finish getting ready and left him waiting outside.
The tension between you two is palpable, as you walk side by side to school.
When you walk through the school grounds hand in hand, Tsukishima avoids eye contact, seemingly lost in his thoughts.
The morning is a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Tsukishima's determination to confront the creeps is evident, and you find yourself caught in the whirlwind of his protective stance. The rumors about your relationship spread like wildfire, everyone knew you were together, but seeing you holding hands just adds an extra layer of complexity to the situation.
He rests a hand on your head when you reach your classroom, “See you later.”
Nodding, you feel your cheeks burning as you enter the classroom. All eyes are on you when you take a seat. Your friends tease you all morning.
This agreement certainly took an unexpected turn.
…
“You ready?” Tsukki asks you, taking your hand again. Lunch break was cut short when he approached you. Nodding, you swallow hard, confused by the swirl of emotions that hit you.
As you approach the library, you notice the creeps already there, smirking and whispering among themselves. Tsukishima tightens his grip on your hand, a silent reassurance that he's by your side. With a confident stride, you both enter the library, facing the unwelcome attention head-on.
The creeps pause their conversation, their eyes widening at the unexpected sight of you two together. You can sense the shift in the atmosphere as Tsukishima directs a stern gaze towards them. Your heart races, unsure of how this confrontation will unfold.
Unexpectedly, Tsukishima speaks up, his voice cutting through the library's silence. "Enough with the comments and disrespect. Keep your opinions to yourselves. She's not interested, and we're not tolerating any more of your nonsense."
The creeps, taken aback by Tsukishima's assertiveness, exchange uneasy glances. You stand there, witnessing a side of him you hadn't seen before. The library, once a place of discomfort, transforms into a battleground where Tsukishima defends your honor.
As the creeps mumble half-hearted apologies and disperse, Tsukishima's grip on your hand relaxes. He looks at you, his amber eyes softening. "Let's go," he says, leading you out of the library.
You're not sure they'll stop their nasty comments towards you, but for now, an easy smile spreads on your lips and warmth blooms inside you.
…
The following days bring a surprising calm to your interactions with Tsukishima. The fake relationship begins to feel less like a facade and more like a shared understanding. The library incident becomes a turning point, and the creeps keep their distance, realizing the futility of their attempts.
As weeks pass, the dynamics between you and Tsukishima evolve. The protective facade turns into genuine concern, and you find solace in his company. The popular, mysterious boy on the rooftop becomes a reliable presence in your life, and the unspoken agreement transforms into a connection that goes beyond pretense.
One day, as you both sit on the familiar rooftop during lunch break, enjoying the peace and quiet, Tsukishima breaks the silence. "You know, this fake relationship thing has its perks. No more creeps bothering you, and I get some peace too."
You chuckle, appreciating the humor in his words. The genuine laughter resonates in the air, and in that moment, you realize that what started as a charade has woven the threads of a unique bond between you and Tsukishima.
As the school year progresses, the fake relationship becomes less about keeping up appearances and more about navigating the complexities of your emotions. The rooftop meetings turn into genuine conversations, and the agreement transforms into a shared understanding.
As graduation approaches, you can't help the bittersweet feeling that grows inside you. Uncertainty about your future makes its way to your mind in the form of anxiety and dreams about Tsukishima ending things with you. It makes you feel stupid, there's nothing there to end.
You can't deny there are some feelings for him inside you.
“I got in.” He interrupts your thoughts, making you look up from him from your egg sandwich. It's a breezy February afternoon, and you're on lunch break, back on the rooftop. He's leaning on the railway and you're sitting on the bench as usual. “Sendai University.”
The sandwich is soon forgotten as you get up and wrap your arms around his shoulders, smiling widely at him. “Congratulations!” You mumble on his neck, your soft lips touching the skin of his neck.
Tsukki takes half a second to hug you back. In the past few weeks, physical contact has become more common between. Although he's still not used to it, he welcomes you gladly as the warmth of your body radiates to him.
“Seems like we're going to the same university,” he says with a smirk. Looking into his eyes, you remember, just last week telling him you've been accepted at Sendai University as well.
“Yeah…” you breathe, fully aware that your lips are centimeters apart.
He would've kissed you. You swear, if it wasn't for the bell ringing just in time for you to pull away and him clear his throat. A blush stained his cheekbones pink as you smiled to yourself. Your story with him isn't over yet.
…
The day before graduation is filled with tears and poignant laughter. You say goodbye to your friends you know you won't see until graduation, swim at the gymnasium pool for the last time and wait for Tsukishima by the volleyball gymnasium, sipping strawberry milk you bought from the vending machine.
You don't turn around when you hear him and his friends leaving the gymnasium, or when you hear one of them point you out. You don't turn around when you hear his footsteps approaching you. When he stands in front of you, your eyes meet his. He's smirking, sweat glistening on his skin.
You don't care.
The strawberry milk box falls on the ground as his lips press against yours.
His skin is soft as you wrap your arms around his sweaty neck. Gasping when his tongue brushes against yours in a messy kiss, you pull him closer.
In the end, what started as a simple plan to ward off unwanted attention becomes a chapter in your high school story—a chapter filled with laughter, unexpected connections, and the realization that sometimes, the most genuine bonds are formed in the most unconventional ways.
I hope everyone understands, when I say “most endangered habitat on earth”, I mean temperate grasslands.
They’re more endangered than tropical rainforests, coral reefs, the arctic tundra, all of those go-to environments that get more of the spotlight.
Where I live, maybe 25% of the prairie remains in a natural state and that number is dropping. Even these fragments are mostly missing the keystone species that maintain their health, like bison, wolves, and prairie dogs. I know this is the case for other grasslands like the pampas and steppe as well. Vast lands empty of many species that used to call them home.
If you live on temperate grasslands, hold onto them tight, because they’ve been exploited like no other land and most people don’t even know how far the devastation goes.
please please pleaseeee listen to this post and learn the value of temperate grasslands. it makes me very sad that not only have these landscapes been destroyed by colonizers, but even most of the people who live there now don’t see their value. when i say i love midwestern landscapes, people call me crazy just because they’ve never seen the beauty of the tallgrass prairie :(
ok i do know actually i was trying to draw with greys and dark bg color only and using less layers so it was like doing paint irl i guess?
never used so much non colourful colour b4 so heeeeeh
i really like how his face looks esp w lack of details
idk i think it looks neat
it make it look not heavy and i always characterized my style as HEAVY so im trying something new but u still can see mi struggling to blur all pic so i mostly dunno what im even doin
and i havent sleep tonight so yea
and im not horny i promise just spooky scary than titties out long hair for the fam
going through the hades 2 stuff and im sorry but i just have to ramble a second because look at Hephaestus
he's not just a wheelchair user but also an amputee. an above knee amputee. wheelchair users are already next to nonexistant in video games but amputees exist in this really...disheartening? spot where they're pretty much just reduced to "person with a cybernetic limb" - it's always just somewhere from "just a cool visual design" to flat out "superpower". I can't think of a video game amputee that is actually disabled by their limb differences - I'm all for futuristic worlds where prosthetics and other disability aids are far advanced from what they are now, but that's not really what's implied by these designs. They're just... Cool designs that in no way reflect on the real-world experience of being an amputee.
Look at Hephaestus, though. Look at that prosthetic. Whilst stylised it very much looks like it functions like common mechanical knees - knee bends when thigh is lifted, knee straightens when thigh is lowered. He's a wheelchair user as well as a prosthetic user - every prosthetic user I know is also a wheelchair user as a prosthetic is not usable in every occasion and also cause exhaustion and pain if used constantly.
Whilst we can't see much of his wheelchair the position he's sat in and the wheels very much evoke active wheelchair to me - this carries on to very specifically the thickness of his arms. Whilst a lot of Hades designs are muscular Hephaestus has very noticeably thick arms - which makes sense, as active wheelchairs require a lot of arm strength.
Just overall this design is making me want to cry - he's not just an actual wheelchair user in a video game, he's a realistic depiction of an amputee, a disability usually brushed over in order to give a character a fun design quirk and nothing else. He's fat and he's hot and he's a realistic depiction of an above knee amputee. Oh my god. Oh my god?
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