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"Between me and volleyball, which one do you love the most?"
"Volleyball."
"My heart is wounded, Keiji," Miya places his palm against his chest, feigning a hurt expression at Akaashi who sits with his legs crossed across the table, reading what he assumes is a poem.
"There's a first aid kit near the kitchen," Akaashi replies without tearing his gaze from the tablet in front of him. Green - grey eyes remain focused on the words before him.
• Before I fell
in love with words
With setting skies
And singing birds—
It was you I fell
In love first •
Akaashi glances at the pouting young man who rests his chin on the wooden table, cheeks puffed slightly making his features resemble a little kid. His eyes aren't staring back at him, and there's a frown on his forehead that Akaashi wants to erase with a kiss. But he's quite enjoying this, teasing the once rival setter's pride. Akaashi never really conveys his feelings out loud. If it ever happens, it would be when Miya is feeling extremely down, their anniversary, or other special occasions like birthdays, New Year or Christmas. Miya can count just how many 'I love you's Akaashi Keiji has ever said to him every year.
‘Unnecessary,’ Akaashi once said. Besides, it's not like Miya needs to be reminded out loud everyday. He can figure it out by himself. From the way Akaashi would caress his hair down to his darker undercut when they lay side by side, or the light as a feather kisses he lays upon Miya's lips whenever he feels like it.
By the occasional touches of his fingers against Miya's skin when they sit next to each other, or how his grip would tighten once in a while when they hold hands.
Those words aren't something that he necessarily needs to say out loud. Akaashi knows. Miya knows.
• When words run dry,
He does not try,
Nor do I.
We are on par.
He just is,
I just am
And we just are. •
Sometimes, he would sit down staring at Miya with a wandering look in his eyes. Calculating any possibilities that could've happened for their future, wondering how fate even wants them to meet and end up together, over thinking about their daily routines. But then Miya would tear his gaze away from whatever he was looking at and stares back at Akaashi. He would smile the smile that's only reserved for the green eyed young man alone, take his hand, and place a kiss on the tanned knuckle. Then, those unnecessary thoughts would disappear in an instant, as they only focus on what they have now.
Akaashi knows. Miya knows.
There's no need to say so much words when they can understand each other in one single glance. And they do understand each other very well.
"Keiji. Between me and volleyball, which one do you love the most?" Miya tries again, this time with a small smile on his lips as he stares at Akaashi.
The latter sighs, taking off his reading glasses and puts it on the table along with his tablet. The chair creaked a little when he stands up and walks towards Miya, welcomed with a warm pair of arms that has become his needs during rainy days, cold nights and emotional breaks.
He sits on Miya's lap, calloused palms cupping his lover's face as Miya wraps his arms around Akaashi's waist. The smile on Miya's lips widens, and only disappears for a moment when Akaashi places a soft, loving kiss on them.
Miya's lips are slightly chapped, but warm. Like his body and heart. He could taste the bitterness of morning coffee that he made for Miya earlier. He could feel the amount of affection reserved only for him just from a small friction.
And when he pulls away, he could see those unspeakable words in Miya's eyes. Words that no longer needs to be said often. Everything they've had for the past three years, and it was enough.
It was more than enough for both of them.
"You already know," Akaashi whispers against the other's lips.
The smile returns. And the two words that leave his lips are the only thing Akaashi needs for now.
That, and his kiss.
"I know."