Tsukishima Kei was like any other student. Tall, golden eyes and equally golden hair. His glasses that sat at the bridge of his nose so carefully with the strap holding them in place. He was a nerd - it was clear by how he was placed in college grade courses just while being new in high school. His favorite food was strawberry shortcake.

It was sweet, fluffy - filling but leaving just enough room in his stomach so that he didn’t feel fat. Just enough so he’d stay underweight. Just enough to feel normal.

He could never properly eat at school, not with the way he was so scared to chew so loud, the way he was scared the weight would instantly hit him. It terrified him to even look at the food that his friends ate - or offered him. His nose scrunching up tensely as he shook his head in denial of it.

“No, thanks.” He’d quickly put his hand up, pushing it away to the dismay of his friends. His white headphones slowly making their way to rest over his ears to hide himself from the constant questions of his friends.

“Why don’t you eat more, Tsukishima?” They’d utter his surname. It was rare he ever let anyone use his first name, After all, they didn’t know him well enough for him to ever whisper it. Well, other than Yamaguchi and you of course. But he never told you his name directly - you just saw it one day and never left him alone.

And on some days, he needed that. He needed the constant annoyance of your pestering to remind him that eventually he could be okay, that he could eat without having to worry about the feeling of gaining and gaining and gaining, that he was just a normal teenage boy, that he was tall and he wouldn’t get fat after one full plate of food - but he was scared.

What if what you told him wasn’t true? What if that’s what you were doing - lying to him like he was still a little boy with his brother lying about volleyball? What would he do with himself, then? He couldn’t handle the pressure of getting heavier day-after-day, because at the end of the day, if He gains so much a pound after trusting you, how could he know you were ever going to tell the truth again?

Sure, weight was fine, in your eyes. But not to him. Every time you mentioned liking heavier-set men, he’d feel himself shrinking back into his skin - but he’d hide it away, insulting your height or how you looked just so you’d stop talking.

At the end of the day, it was just him versus another plate of food.

And for him, it was a losing battle he could never win.