“thanks, omi.” 

sakusa gave you a brief nod in acknowledgement, though his eyes still refused to meet yours.

you leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face, but the movement caused one side of his jacket to slip off your shoulder. maybe it was his reflexes, or simply because he was hyperaware of your presence—either way, he reacted quicker than you could blink, tugging the fabric back over your frame before zipping up his jacket around you.

you blinked in surprise, fiddling with the zipper that was now resting below your chin.

“thanks.” you whispered again, looking up at him with such softness in your eyes that he thought his heart might have stopped altogether.

nothing could stop the from heat rising to his cheeks, his hand hovering mid-air, unsure of what to do. sakusa always prided himself in his ability to keep his composure, but with you?

you were always his exception.

you were the only one who could make his mind short-circuit with just a smile, the only one who could make a warmth surge through his chest whenever he spots you, the only one he looks for in the sea of people after a match.

and now, here he was, with his hand clenched by his sides, trying his hardest to calm the wild beating of his heart.

“omi?” you blinked slowly at him, brows furrowing together as you tried to stop your eyelids from drooping.

“don’t fall asleep yet.” he managed to say, voice gruff, “your stop is next.”

“oh, right…” you trailed off, taking a few more seconds than usual to comprehend his statement. “then,” you muttered quietly under your breath, removing his warm jacket and exposing yourself to the cool air of the bus. with your best attempt at folding it neatly, you handed it back to him. 

“thanks for the jacket, omi.” you smiled.

“keep it.”

the words hung between you. silence stretched, sharp and heavy.

“huh?” you looked at him in bewilderment. 

“your—” he cleared his throat, “your germs are all over it.” 

a pause. then a laugh bubbled up in your chest. “i have far less germs that you,” you retorted with a smile, scrunching up your nose, “you’re all sweaty from practice.”

for a second, he just stared at you—long enough that your smile wavered, long enough that you wondered if he was going to cross the line. then his shoulders relaxed, just a fraction.

“it’s still cold out.” sakusa whispered, his voice softer than usual. “keep it.”

and who were you to say no when the sakusa kiyoomi offered you his jacket? 

when the bus slowly rolled to a stop, you hopped off with his jacket folded neatly in your arms and a promise that you would return it freshly washed and cleaned.

but when you handed him his jacket the next day, he refused to take it back. 

he didn’t give you a reason, though you spotted the smile on his face when he thought you weren’t looking—the kind that made his eyes soften with emotions he struggled to express with words. and that was more than enough for you to graciously accept this gift.

it started with his jacket, then his jersey.

“thanks, omi.” 

sakusa gave you a brief nod in acknowledgement, though his eyes still refused to meet yours.

you leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face, but the movement caused one side of his jacket to slip off your shoulder. maybe it was his reflexes, or simply because he was hyperaware of your presence—either way, he reacted quicker than you could blink, tugging the fabric back over your frame before zipping up his jacket around you.

you blinked in surprise, fiddling with the zipper that was now resting below your chin.

“thanks.” you whispered again, looking up at him with such softness in your eyes that he thought his heart might have stopped altogether.

nothing could stop the from heat rising to his cheeks, his hand hovering mid-air, unsure of what to do. sakusa always prided himself in his ability to keep his composure, but with you?

you were always his exception.

you were the only one who could make his mind short-circuit with just a smile, the only one who could make a warmth surge through his chest whenever he spots you, the only one he looks for in the sea of people after a match.

and now, here he was, with his hand clenched by his sides, trying his hardest to calm the wild beating of his heart.

“omi?” you blinked slowly at him, brows furrowing together as you tried to stop your eyelids from drooping.

“don’t fall asleep yet.” he managed to say, voice gruff, “your stop is next.”

“oh, right…” you trailed off, taking a few more seconds than usual to comprehend his statement. “then,” you muttered quietly under your breath, removing his warm jacket and exposing yourself to the cool air of the bus. with your best attempt at folding it neatly, you handed it back to him. 

“thanks for the jacket, omi.” you smiled.

“keep it.”

the words hung between you. silence stretched, sharp and heavy.

“huh?” you looked at him in bewilderment. 

“your—” he cleared his throat, “your germs are all over it.” 

a pause. then a laugh bubbled up in your chest. “i have far less germs that you,” you retorted with a smile, scrunching up your nose, “you’re all sweaty from practice.”

for a second, he just stared at you—long enough that your smile wavered, long enough that you wondered if he was going to cross the line. then his shoulders relaxed, just a fraction.

“it’s still cold out.” sakusa whispered, his voice softer than usual. “keep it.”

and who were you to say no when the sakusa kiyoomi offered you his jacket? 

when the bus slowly rolled to a stop, you hopped off with his jacket folded neatly in your arms and a promise that you would return it freshly washed and cleaned.

but when you handed him his jacket the next day, he refused to take it back. 

he didn’t give you a reason, though you spotted the smile on his face when he thought you weren’t looking—the kind that made his eyes soften with emotions he struggled to express with words. and that was more than enough for you to graciously accept this gift.

it started with his jacket, then his jersey.

“thanks, omi.” 

sakusa gave you a brief nod in acknowledgement, though his eyes still refused to meet yours.

you leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face, but the movement caused one side of his jacket to slip off your shoulder. maybe it was his reflexes, or simply because he was hyperaware of your presence—either way, he reacted quicker than you could blink, tugging the fabric back over your frame before zipping up his jacket around you.

you blinked in surprise, fiddling with the zipper that was now resting below your chin.

“thanks.” you whispered again, looking up at him with such softness in your eyes that he thought his heart might have stopped altogether.

nothing could stop the from heat rising to his cheeks, his hand hovering mid-air, unsure of what to do. sakusa always prided himself in his ability to keep his composure, but with you?

you were always his exception.

you were the only one who could make his mind short-circuit with just a smile, the only one who could make a warmth surge through his chest whenever he spots you, the only one he looks for in the sea of people after a match.

and now, here he was, with his hand clenched by his sides, trying his hardest to calm the wild beating of his heart.

“omi?” you blinked slowly at him, brows furrowing together as you tried to stop your eyelids from drooping.

“don’t fall asleep yet.” he managed to say, voice gruff, “your stop is next.”

“oh, right…” you trailed off, taking a few more seconds than usual to comprehend his statement. “then,” you muttered quietly under your breath, removing his warm jacket and exposing yourself to the cool air of the bus. with your best attempt at folding it neatly, you handed it back to him. 

“thanks for the jacket, omi.” you smiled.

“keep it.”

the words hung between you. silence stretched, sharp and heavy.

“huh?” you looked at him in bewilderment. 

“your—” he cleared his throat, “your germs are all over it.” 

a pause. then a laugh bubbled up in your chest. “i have far less germs that you,” you retorted with a smile, scrunching up your nose, “you’re all sweaty from practice.”

for a second, he just stared at you—long enough that your smile wavered, long enough that you wondered if he was going to cross the line. then his shoulders relaxed, just a fraction.

“it’s still cold out.” sakusa whispered, his voice softer than usual. “keep it.”

and who were you to say no when the sakusa kiyoomi offered you his jacket? 

when the bus slowly rolled to a stop, you hopped off with his jacket folded neatly in your arms and a promise that you would return it freshly washed and cleaned.

but when you handed him his jacket the next day, he refused to take it back. 

he didn’t give you a reason, though you spotted the smile on his face when he thought you weren’t looking—the kind that made his eyes soften with emotions he struggled to express with words. and that was more than enough for you to graciously accept this gift.

it started with his jacket, then his jersey.

sunlight's tricking in through the smallest gap between the curtains and you groan, rolling over to blindly pat around the bedside table and check the time on your phone, the glare temporarily flashing you and you squint, not quite ready to face the day just yet.

8:34AM. it's still way too early.

the sheets on the side where he lays is still warm, he probably hasn't been up for too long, you muse as you gently rub your eyes and reluctantly pull yourself up, slipping on the first t-shirt on top of the messed up pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. it sits wide on your shoulders, one side slipping off and the hem grazing your upper thighs.

smells like kuroo, smells like home.

you pad quietly towards the sound of a sizzling pan and soft humming, a song playing quietly around the open kitchen with lyrics that ring a bell but your barely conscious mind can't put two and two together. it's a sight to behold, so peaceful and quaint, you wish you could take a picture but alas, your phone remains charging on your bedside table.

warmed by the golden rays of saccharine sun shining against his bare broad back, kuroo's almost glowing, a few small moles and marks littering his back like a sea of constellations in a clear night sky and you can't help but be drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

goosebumps rise on his skin when he feels you loosely wrap your arms around his waist, tensing up in surprise for a second before registering the softness of hands that can only belong to you, relaxing as your thumbs find purchase on the waistband of his shorts.

"mmm, good morning." you mumble against his skin, apologetically pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade for unintentionally scaring him as you relish in the heat radiating off him from the inside out. "you're up early."

he hums, free hand pushing the wild strands of his jet black hair in all of it's early morning mess back before placing it above your own, finding yours like its instinct, second nature. "wanted to make you something."

"what's the occasion?"

"what, can't spoil my girl with breakfast in bed?" he glances back now with a cheeky grin, and you return a sweet smile, eyes trailing across his features, extra boyish and youthfully fresh out of slumber. you take a deep inhale, chest pressing against his back as you take in the aroma of a wonderful home cooked meal and his natural scent mixed with what seems like your body wash. soap thief. "speaking of, why aren't you still in bed?"

you murmur with droopy eyes and the smallest pout you don't even know you're making, and kuroo has half the mind to kiss it off your face, "you weren't there..."

"aren't you a clingy little baby hmm?"

he chuckles fondly when he feels your soft hum vibrate against his back, not even trying to deny his statement. you always did love hanging off him like koala. with his stature and physique, how can you not?

his hand gently squeezes yours, "i'm almost done here, do you want to get you and your cute butt back into bed?"

you nod and make a sound of agreement but put in no effort to leave, instead tightening your hold on his waist, finding solace in the subtle yet steady rise and fall of his torso with every breath he takes. it's a comforting feeling, a motion almost like the rocking of a chair, rhythmic and constant, and you're sure that any longer of it will begin to lull you back into the gentle, irresistible embrace of drowsiness.

he sighs dramatically, borderline whining, and you just know he'd be clutching his chest if his hands weren't busy with the food and toying with your own, "you're so stinking cute it's unfair..."

it easily falls into a dreamy, comfortable silence aside from the occasional clang of utensils and clinks of ceramic, the flame of the stove turning down slowly until it fizzles out and completely disappears. you take turns spooning food into each other's mouths and exchanging kisses in between, surrendering to the moment of respite with eyes barely open. you swing your legs back and forth while perched on the counter, the surface cool against your skin as kuroo remains close, never straying too far as he stands between your thighs nursing his first coffee of the day with a hand absentmindedly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears.

this little compact kitchen's enveloped in a special flavour of comfort, never quite filled but always full, of mutual love and shared aspirations, whispered promises and bellowing laughter.

many nights have been spent with hands clasped over the clean marbled island after long days, and countless mornings of what seems like rush hour in your own home with the both of you scrambling to have a cup of anything caffeine and small bites before inevitably having to run off to your commitments.

from carelessly dancing barefoot with the backdrop of the refrigerator light to giggling with scrunched noses and scrubbing the life out of a pan charred from burnt food, it happens more often than you think when distractions are abundant with someone like kuroo, countless of little instances and silly happenings have carved it's mark into the nooks and crannies of this space.

time has come and gone, seasons changing as with the stages of your life but this? simple moments like this will never fade, a small but unwavering fire burning in the many walls of your home and hearts, tucked away with a lock and the matching key that's been disposed of a long time ago, long before exchanged vows and three words spelled out by eight letters.

and you wouldn't have it any other way.

a/n: started writing this like a month ago jeez, then shit hit the fan and now i'm here / title is also one of my favourite perfume scents ;3

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