Late evening was filled with a cacophony of obnoxious perfumes, rustling fabrics and cheerful toasts that preceded the clink of glass. The match was followed by a press conference which, in turn, led to a fancy after-party in some chic club. Kiyoomi couldn't care less about all of this, if not for you.

Saying he was smitten would've been putting it lightly. As in, not telling even half the truth of the effect you had on him.

Sakusa's loathe for crowded spaces was a common knowledge, just like his pride. And that exact pride was the force that drove him to attend every damn event imaginable, just to show you off — his perfect partner. Kiyoomi never boasted, until it was about you. Miya could tease him for all he wanted, Sakusa didn't care. He did not care, because the need to love you and make the world know of his love for you was hardly ever satisfied.

Your shared apartment is mostly dark, the lights are on only in the hall. His suit jacket is discarded on the vanity carelessly, while your coat is carefully hung up in the wardrobe.

"Tired?" he asks quietly, kneeling before you. His nimble fingers work the clasps of your ornate shoes open, eyes locked on yours. "I can run you a bath," his smooth voice rumbles as cool fingertips glide over your ankle, taking the left shoe off.