Things You Said Too Quietly
The Things You Say on Ao3
The morning was quiet the day after Daichi and Asahi’s birthday party. Most of the house was still in bed, sleeping off the hangover that was sure to leave many of them incapacitated until the next day at least. Tanaka was reading quietly on the couch with Tsukishima’s head in his lap, but they were the only others awake when Chikara wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. He stood by the kitchen sink, looking at the sunrise through the kitchen window and wondering what he would do with his day. He didn’t like holidays much, didn’t like the way they always felt empty and devoid of productivity. Though, the family would probably do something all together, like visit a shrine or walk through the park. It would depend on Asahi and his whims, and they usually tended toward the romantic. Daichi would complain, claiming that his birthday still counted too, and then when given his say in the matter he would want to do the exact same thing. It happened that way every year.
He was so deep in his own musings that he didn’t realize he had company until Kiyoko turned on the faucet and filled up her own glass.
“Good morning,” she said quietly. He smiled, admiring the way the dawn light filtered through the window and made her into something closer to goddess than human.
“Good morning,” he replied. She smiled at him like he was the only thing in the world and she wanted to dedicate her entire being to him. He smiled back, stepping forward to wrap his arms around her. She set her glass on the counter and returned the embrace, leaning her head onto his shoulder and sighing in contentment.
“I love you so much,” Chikara whispered. “If I could, I would pull down every star from the sky and pile them at your feet in offering. I would dedicate my very soul to you if you asked me to. I would tear the world apart if I thought for one moment it would make you smile.”
“What?” Kiyoko hummed, turning her head to look up at him, cheek still pressed to his shoulder. “I didn’t hear that.”
He smiled at her, taking a strand of hair between his fingers. It flowed like black silk, soft and beautiful. It was getting long again, and soon she would cut it back to her shoulders, but for now Chikara enjoyed the way it spilled over her collar bones and down over the shirt she had clearly stolen from Suga. The light from the window painted her in pinks and golds, her naturally pale complexion turning into a masterpiece of a view, like an old painting in a museum by some long-dead master. Chikara admired her. Chikara worshiped her. Chikara had meant every word he had said to her.
“Nothing important,” he said, and she smiled at him. Chikara would do anything for that smile, anything at all. So in the gathering light of a new year, he simply enjoyed it.
