kei tsukishima doesn’t believe in i love you’s, no. throughout your relationship, you’ve heard him say it maybe once or twice, in the dead of night when he thinks you’re fast asleep. but every so often, he’ll do the littlest things to remind you.

kei doesn’t hold your bags for you when you walk home together after school. he says it makes you look incapable, like a little kid who needs a babysitter. feminism, he says. independence.

...but he does take your laptop and insist on putting it in his bag when you’re finished. “your bag isn’t built for laptops, it’ll break,” he says, zipping up his backpack after your study date. you would have believed him, if he wasn’t practically walking out with half your possessions in his bag.

kei rarely takes you out on dates. he says it’s an inconvenience. why go through all that trouble of picking a restaurant, getting dressed, and driving there all for a single meal? it’s a hassle and frankly, an impractical use of money.

instead, kei pulls up to your house and makes you a home cooked meal. your favorite dish, plated to perfection with a fresh stock of your favorite flowers in a vase at the centre of the table. he makes sure to set aside a portion in case you want seconds.

“you could’ve at least told me you were coming. i would’ve gotten dressed,” you said, pouting a little in your oversized shirt and hair undone.

“what for? the point of this is to not inconvenience you,” he says, not bothering to look up as he continues with his meal.

“…and i like you better like this, anyway,” he mutters.

because to a man like tsukishima kei, real love is a verb, somewhere between consideration and care. something synonymous to tranquility.

that’s why he loves taking care of you, and why he’s sat on the couch as you’re sitting on the floor with your legs criss-crossed on top of each other. your laptop is propped up on the coffee table in front of you as you type furiously, eager to finish your essay so you could spend more time with kei.

kei brushes your hair gently, slowly untangling the knots. he handles you with so much ease, so much tenderness, and when he finishes, he gives you a kiss on top of your head.

because he knows that you know that it’s more than just hair brushing—it’s quality time spent together in silence, as your respective individuals with your own respective thoughts.

but at the end of the day, after you’ve turned in your essay and the world is right again, you crawl into the couch with him and melt into one. and it always fascinates kei how two bodies could fit together so perfectly.

tsukishima kei loved quietly, subtly, privately. so much so that no one could even come close enough to you to ruin what you had. because the less people know, the less they can ruin.

that’s also why he holds you extra tight tonight, and why he’ll always prefer at-home dates: because he can love you freely without watching eyes.

☆ synopsis ; there’s no romance between you and suguru. simply obedience dressed up as devotion. just bruises you begged for and silence you mistake for permission. you’re not the one he wants. but if it means staying close, you’ll let him ruin you with both hands—and thank him for the favor.