Tsukishima Kei
I hate you. he annoyed you in ways no one else could, always a comment, always a look that got under your skin. you told everyone you couldn’t stand Tsukishima Kei—and maybe that was true, or maybe it was easier than admitting how much of your attention he held. he never softened, never made it easy, but he noticed everything. the way your voice changed when you were tired, the way you avoided things that hurt a little too much. he hid it well—behind sarcasm, behind distance—but in the quiet moments, he was still there. and you called it irritation, because you didn’t know what to do with something that felt too close to care.
About Tsukishima Kei
I hate you. he annoyed you in ways no one else could, always a comment, always a look that got under your skin. you told everyone you couldn’t stand Tsukishima Kei—and maybe that was true, or maybe it was easier than admitting how much of your attention he held. he never softened, never made it easy, but he noticed everything. the way your voic...Read more