[ 𝟕:𝟓𝟓 𝐏𝐌 ] — 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐎
Keigo, you’d noticed a long time ago, had an eye for shiny things. You’d thought it was cute, how he had avian traits, how small things that glittered made his excitement peak. But most of all, you loved how he’d automatically give you the little trinkets he’d stumble upon, gifting them to you happily as he stared at them in your hands with glee.
“Y/n, look!” Turning your attention away from the picnic basket, you looked up to meet the eyes of your boyfriend, watching as his smile got wider by the second.
“What is it, Kei?”
“I found a key,” he chirped, walking over to you before sitting back down on the blanket you’d set up. Turning your head to the side, you looked at him puzzled.
“A key?
“Yeah! Look how shiny.” And suddenly, the realization hit you. Keigo’s love for looking into anything that showed his reflection, his love for twirling things in the sunlight, his love for buying little keychains that caught his eye, they were all because they were shiny. The smile on your face grew as you reached up and pinched his cheek, laughing at his excitement. He was almost childlike, the way he was happy, but it was an adorable sight, one that made your heart melt to witness.
“Well, I hope you at least clean it off before you keep it.” Wiping at it with a napkin, he handed it to you, smile much softer this time.
“It’s for you.”
You’d kept all the little things he’d given you over the months, collecting them away as the pile grew. Keigo wasn’t sure what he’d expected you to do, but carefully organize them in a drawer wasn’t one. His eyes widened as he’d rummaged through your drawer, scanning over how you’d neatly assorted each trinket he’d given you.
He’d spent his childhood thinking his bird traits were a burden— weird, even— but you’d kept every gift, and you’d cherished them all as though they were priceless. A wobbly smile spread across his face.
“Kei, did you find the—oh—” you were cut off by arms wrapping around you, a face burying itself into your neck. “Kei? You alright?”
“Uh huh.” Rubbing his back, you squeezed him gently.
“What’s up, baby?”
“You kept them, the little things I give you,” he whispered. Chuckling softly, you pulled away, cupping his cheeks and pressing your forehead to his. Your thumb traced his cheekbones tenderly, staring into his wide eyes before you kissed his nose. You were always so gentle with him, he’d noticed, always treated him like he was fragile— like he was precious.
“Yeah, they remind me of you, I love them.” And he loved you.
this is a repost from my old blog
