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If love takes shape, Tsukishima thinks to himself, it will probably be in the form of a particular dark green haired boy with constellations for freckles.
It began altogether.
He came to recognise love in its existence.
Love leans forward a little bit when he is talking about something he's excited about, backwards when he's relaxed. Love has a tendency to apologise absentmindedly to him, inserting a nickname at the end.
Love trails close to him during their journey to and fro school. Yet, Love feels a little bit out of reach, like stars. Their presence is undeniable, but how often have one truly acknowledged its presence by itself, how much are they truly praised for always being there, how much they're so bright when you most need it?
Love kind of feels like a shooting star to Tsukishima. Fleeting, rare, beautiful, enchanting. Properly fascinating. Tsukishima makes it a point to take note of when his own shooting star appears.
It appears when he walks to and fro school, predictable, certain, comforting, routine. And then sometimes in between the gaps of time supposedly studying, impulsive, unplanned, welcomed, anticipated.
Love smiles as sweet as sugar, laughs as full as what Tsukishima feels when he looks at him.
Love has then become familiar.
From the regular banter, to the accidental hand brushing against each other. From sharing the day together laughing to doing nothing at all. Obligatory reconciliations after a fight. Making bets on who can make it to either of their houses the fastest, with no one remembering who actually won. Ice cream after school, ramen after work, walking each other home.
A nonroutinely routine. Timetabled days that only have one task: savouring moments with each other.
As such, the familiarity that love brings is something Tsukishima cannot imagine not acknowledging anymore when it is so bright and undeniable and so, so close. Now, he watches a shooting star in its glory everyday, and he makes the same wish under it everytime.
Tsukishima has found his own shooting star.
So he thinks again, to himself, if love has found love himself. And when he tastes sugar on his lips, he thinks he did.