Tsukishima Kei is far from perfect.
His words bite, his demeanour condescending. He's lanky, and despite working out five days a week has almost no muscle at all, which makes him think that whatever deity that was in charge of making him had traded that part of him away in exchange for height.
And that's why he has no idea why his boyfriend loves him so much.
Of course, they haven't really said the L-word to each other yet, probably because they haven’t felt the need to, not yet. Because how can it not be obvious? Every touch, every kiss, hell, even accidental brushes against each other are filled with so much tension and affection and love that Kei can barely stand it.
Because why somebody as astronomically perfect as Kageyama would love him is beyond Kei.
He's muscular, just the right height, and his eyes are ridiculous. Only Kageyama Tobio would have eyes that would take paragraphs on top of paragraphs to describe in full. And that's not even the only part of his face that Kei adores.
In short, he's a king. Kei's king. But Kei is so unbelievably imperfect that he can't help but question why Kageyama even loves him, because he’s so skilled and graceful and perfect in areas Kei isn’t that Kei doesn't deserve him.
Kei doesn't deserve him at all.
Not one single part of him will ever be good enough for his king, and he hates it.
As if programmed to always walk in when Kei is having an internal crisis, Kageyama walks in, presumably to get the popcorn from the microwave.
"Tsukishima..?" He calls out tentatively one he sees him. "I thought you were in the bathroom, you were so quiet."
Kei violently snaps out of his thoughts and back to Kageyama's kitchen with a flinch. "I-I'm sorry. I was waiting for the popcorn and I zoned out for a second," he says, gesturing weakly at the microwave, which had been beeping incessantly for almost 2 minutes.
Kageyama gives him a look that’s too vague and fleeting for Kei to read, then says “Okay” and moves to take the bag of popcorn out of the microwave and empty it into a large red bowl. Kageyama doesn’t seem like he needs help (Or he shouldn’t need help, it’s never safe to assume since Kageyama has proven himself to be very unpredictable at times) so Kei leaves to sit on the big red couch in front of the TV.
Kageyama joins him soon after, standing over the couch with a large bowl of popcorn in hand. As he moves to place the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, it only takes a second of Kei's signature cynical smirk for him to scowl.
Kei snorts. “I’ve never taken you to be the kind of person to watch Hallmark romance movies, king. It’s a new thing a day with you, isn’t it?”
Kageyama’s brow furrows even more “Shut up. I don’t. I chose this because it’s a date. Don’t people watch romantic things on dates?” Kei knows that that last question was not rhetorical. Kageyama doesn’t know how romantic dates work, and if Kei were to be perfectly honest, he doesn’t either.
Kei huffs out a laugh and stands up suddenly, bending down to administer a soft kiss to Kageyama’s lips. His hands slide up hips and shoulders and neck to cup Kageyama’s face, and Kageyama’s hands go around him too; one resting on Kei’s hip, one softly tugging on Kei’s silken curls. Kei breaks the kiss, but not the embrace, his face hovering close enough to Kageyama’s for their noses to slightly brush each other.
“It was a joke, King,” Kei says quietly, moving his thumb back and forth to stroke his partner’s cheek.
“I know,” Kageyama says simply before attempting to go in for another kiss.
Kei stops him with a hand. “Are you sure? Because from the look you gave me, you were about to shit your pants,” he says with a perfectly straight face, that is until the scowl appears on Kageyama’s face again. “Yeah, that’s the one,” He says through a very badly suppressed laugh.
“Asshole,” His boyfriend replies, but before he can get another word in Kei pecks the corner of his mouth and pushes Kageyama in the direction of the couch to coax him into sitting before settling down himself and nonchalantly leaning over to rest his head on Kageyama’s lap, his cheek pressing into his boyfriend’s thigh.
(Or at least he hopes it’s nonchalant, because his face is starting to feel hot and Kageyama’s started to play with his hair again in that way he loves so much he’d never admit it in his wildest dreams and there is a lump in his throat for no reason he can identify)
Kei only remembers why he’s never watched movies with anyone other than Yamaguchi and his family around half an hour (At least that’s how long he thinks it’s been because there’s no way to tell how long these things are) later when he starts to tear up at the sappiest, most awfully heterosexual scene in the film.
Kei had never been the extremely emotional type, but when it comes to movies, music, or podcasts he never fails to have a mini-breakdown at the slightest sign of emotion.
He keeps his eyes trained on Kageyama - who is on the opposite side of the couch now and is stuffing an abnormally large mouthful of popcorn into his gaping mouth - to see when he can discreetly press on his eyes and aggressively wish the tears away like he usually does, but then Kageyama has the audacity to notice.
“ ‘Shima?” He asks quietly, “What are you staring for?”
“Nothing,” Kei replies a little too quickly, cringing when his voice cracks and shit, fuck, water is going to come out of my eyes and I can’t stop it. In front of my boyfriend. I will have to die. “Nothing, I- I just-”
Kageyama’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happening and he starts to shift towards Kei’s side of the couch. “Tsukishima…” He says, in a tender voice that for some odd reason makes Kei want to cry even more.
“Stop it,” Kei says uselessly, trying stupidly hard to avoid his boyfriend’s gaze as Kageyama snakes his arms around his waist and tries to get Kei to look at him.
There’s no use dancing around it: Kei is embarrassed.
“Kei,” Kageyama says in that same fucking voice in that same fucking gentle tone, and then- and then he tips his head forward, letting their foreheads touch, forcing eye contact, and Kei melts into the couch. Ever since they’d started dating a few weeks ago and even a bit before, when they were still close friends, Kageyama had thought of Kei as- well, Kei. But this was the first time he’d called his boyfriend by his given name out loud.
The first time he’s been called by his given name by anybody who isn’t family, Kei is crying because of some shitty movie he can’t even remember the title of.
What a mess.
Hinata was probably right when he said that Tobio had horrible timing because here, when Kei is under him with tears in his eyes, is the first time he properly acknowledges that Kei is so pretty and Tobio loves him. So, so much.
Even though at the start he came off as antisocial, rude, and a bit annoying, that didn’t stop Tobio from finding him attractive. How could it? His hair is a soft, subtle blond without even having to dye or bleach it and his eyes are just the right shade between amber and honey, stunning when his glasses are off, and his skin is cream-coloured and only what can be described as velvety, smooth whenever it rubs against Tobio’s.
Kei is ethereal, and if he himself doesn’t think so, Tobio will gladly tell it to him again and again until he gets it.
Because he loves him.
And he would like to right now, when the object of his affection is wrapped tightly in his arms, but Kei is still near tears and fidgeting under him, so Tobio loosens the hug.
Tobio gives his partner a gentle kiss, soft and salty from the popcorn, and asks in that same soft voice, “Did I do something wrong?”
Kei laughs, and it’s not a teasing laugh from whenever he’s making fun of Hinata for being under 6 feet tall, nor is it the laugh of delight from the Inarizaki match that captivated Kageyama when he heard it the first time and would have distracted him if he wasn’t so hyperfixated on the game.
It’s a quiet laugh almost a huff, and Tobio almost misses it. Kei holds Tobio’s face in his hands tenderly. “King, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Tobio doesn’t say anything, but he must look confused because Kei moves to explain. “God, you’re so- It’s stupid, but I was crying because of the stupid movie. Not you. Never you,” Kei stammers quickly, letting out a strained laugh. “I’ve gone soft. It’s pathetic.”
“No,” Tobio reprimands, unknowingly tightening his grip on Kei’s waist again. “You’re perfect.”
Kei’s eyes widen as a rush of emotions he’s never felt in this capacity, in this intensity before overtakes him and it makes him want to grin like an idiot and laugh and cry all at the same time but he feels like that would suck every bit of air out of his lungs because for some reason he’s breathless and Kageyama Tobio just told him he is perfect.
So all he does is turn red, bury his head in Tobio’s shoulder and murmurs, “I can say the same about you, my King.”
“Huh? What did you say?”
“I thought I was an asshole,” Kei says.
Tobio thinks a bit. “The nice kind.” Kei laughs again, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
Tobio snorts. “Fuck off.”
Kei smirks. “Never. Not in a million years. You’re stuck with me.”
Tobio presses his lips to Kei’s hair, and Kei responds with a pleased hum, caging Tobio's torso with his legs. “You’re so annoying,” he grumbles into Kei’s curls.
“The sexy kind, I assume,” Kei muses, grinning into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.
Tobio groans. “Oh my god, fuck off.”
Kei nuzzles into Tobio’s neck. “You don’t mean that. You love me,” he half-jokes, realizing just how much that meant in a romantic context a little too late.
Tobio starts to fiddle with his hair again. “I do,” he says nonchalantly.
Of course, perfect people don’t exist, and even if they did, Kei definitely wouldn’t be one of them. But because Tobio loves him too much to lie to him, Kei chooses to indulge and believe him just this once, because to his king he is perfect, and that's enough for him.