Tendou had never been good at keeping people close.

Not because he didn’t want to, but because the world had always decided for him. Too weird. Creepy. A freak. They whispered, they laughed. The nickname "Monster" stuck like gum under a desk—chewed up and spat out, never really gone.

Until you.

Until the day you strolled into Shiratorizawa, took one look at him, and decided you were staying.

"You’re funny," you had said, after he made a particularly terrible pun at lunch.

Most people just cringed. You giggled. Actually laughed.

That was the moment Tendou decided you were his. Forever.

And now? Now you were tangled up in his sheets at 2 AM on a school night, both of you wide awake, sharing secrets, whispering about everything and nothing at once. His room was small, walls covered in old posters and volleyball memorabilia, the air thick with the scent of cheap strawberry jam from the sandwiches you’d made earlier.

Tendou was lying on his back, one arm sprawled out dramatically, the other flicking idly at your sleeve. His red locks gleamed in the dim light, lips slightly upturned.

"You ever think," he started, voice low and playful, "that maybe I am a monster? Like, a freak, a weirdo?”

You turned your head, blinking at him.

"If you are," you said, thoughtful, "you’re my favorite one."

His breath hitched.

Silence. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say.

No jokes, no sarcasm, no over-the-top deflections. Just your voice in the dark, wrapping around him like warmth, like safety, like something he never thought he’d get to have.

You felt it before you heard it—the way his fingers clutched at your shirt, the way his breath hitched. Then, a silent sob.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just shook against you, face buried in your neck, gripping like he was afraid you’d disappear.

Then, barely a whisper. “I love you."

A shaky inhale. His grip tightened.

"I love you." Again. And again. Like a broken record, like he was scared it might not be real unless he repeated it.