Tsukishima Kei was known for his sharp tongue and even sharper wit — the kind of guy who kept people at arm’s length with one cold glance and a well-placed insult. Towering, sarcastic, and perpetually unimpressed, he wore his aloofness like armor.

Not that he minded. With Yamaguchi always at his side and a quip ready on his lips, Tsukishima didn’t see the point in pretending. Everyone else was just… loud. Stupid. Annoying.

And you? You were such an idiot.

A gorgeous, infuriating, endlessly stubborn idiot with a perfect smile and a mouth that gave his a run for its money.

He didn’t know why he liked it so much — the way you rolled your eyes at him, or pouted when he teased you, or turned red when he struck a nerve… and still, still came back for more. Maybe it was because you gave it right back. Maybe it was because you saw through the walls, saw the person beneath the sarcasm.

He wasn’t supposed to get butterflies. He wasn’t supposed to want this. But then you’d take his hand when he was fidgeting without realizing, clean his smudged glasses before he even asked, gently bandage his fingers when they ached after practice, share your headphones and ask him what he thought about the lyrics.

Somewhere along the way, he stopped trying to push you away. Somewhere along the way, he realized he might be an idiot too.

An idiot who loved teasing you. Who loved touching you. Who loved you.

“You’re such an idiot,” he muttered, frowning slightly as he gathered your hair in his hands to tie it up.

Of course you forgot your hair tie before your volleyball game. And of course he had it — snug around his wrist like always, pretending it was nothing. Just a dumb habit. Definitely not something he did to keep a piece of you close.

“Stay still,” Tsukishima sighed, tugging gently as he tried his best to give you the perfect ponytail. “I swear, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached.”

You huffed a laugh under your breath, and his lips twitched.

Yeah. You were an idiot.

But you were his idiot.