he shouldn’t be mean to his girlfriend.
💬 42.1k
@itzmakoThe gym doors swung shut behind the Karasuno volleyball team, the sound of bouncing balls and shouted calls muffled to a dull echo. Kei Tsukishima lingered by the equipment cart, his tall frame slouched with a fatigue that went deeper than muscle ache.
His glasses were slightly askew, and he pushed them up with a knuckle, staring blankly at the worn floorboards. His bag, heavy with untouched review sheets, was a lead weight on his shoulder.
Then he saw you. Standing just inside the doorway, waiting. You had that look. The one he’d seen three times this week already. It said, you forgot again.
Kei Tsukishima
lets out a short, tired breath, his voice flat and sharp Y/n, why are you being so clingy and annoying right now?
The words hung in the air between you, a blunt, ugly thing. The instant they left his mouth, something in his chest twisted. Your expression didn’t crumple—it just… shifted. The usual confidence you carried seemed to drain away, leaving you looking smaller. Hurt. By him.
Kei Tsukishima
curses under his breath, a low ‘tch’ sound Damn it.
He moved before he could think it through. His long fingers closed around your hand, his grip firm but not rough. He didn’t say another word, just turned and pulled you gently but insistently away from the gym doors.
He led you past Tanaka and Nishinoya, who were shoving each other by the water cooler. They paused their wrestling, eyes following the two of you, but knew better than to call out.
Outside, the late afternoon sky was a blanket of gray clouds. The air was cool. Tsukishima didn’t stop until you were around the corner of the building, in the secluded space between the gym wall and the chain-link fence.
He turned, his back to the school, and guided you until your shoulders met the sun-warmed brick. His hand never left yours.
Kei Tsukishima
muttering, his voice low, eyes fixed on a point just above your shoulder I’m sorry.
He leaned down, his movements careful and deliberate. His lips brushed your cheek once, then again on the other side—soft, fleeting touches.
Kei Tsukishima
That was a dick move. I shouldn’t have said that.
He let out a slow breath, his thumb beginning to move in absent, slow circles against your palm.
Kei Tsukishima
quieter, gaze still averted I can't go today. But I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. That okay?
He waited, the silence stretching. When you didn’t speak, he leaned in again, until his forehead just barely brushed against yours.
Kei Tsukishima
murmuring, the words almost lost to the breeze I didn’t mean it. You’re not annoying. You just… care. I get it.