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It’s safe to say that Kei couldn’t get enough of Tobio’s hands.
Sometimes the urge to caress them took over him completely; it was such a natural thing for them to have their hands on each other that it managed to calm Kei down better than any soft song, or any warm drink. Just the reassuring feeling of having their pinkies intertwined made Kei sigh in relief.
He loved to rub Tobio’s pink knuckles as they held hands the most, bringing the boy’s hand up to his lips and kissing along the pale skin, sometimes tinted a pretty tint of green where his veins were, sometimes more on the blue side.
He loved the way Tobio’s hands could be soft as silk in the mornings, when he ran them through his hair over and over to soothe the bedhead that Kei found so endearing, or when they made breakfast together and their hands brushed as they went to pick up the same utensil, and Kei would snicker and wrap an arm around Tobio’s waist, lay his head on his shoulder and watch as the younger one took over, because Kei had never been good in the kitchen anyway. Tobio always had been. Tobio was good at a lot of things, Kei sometimes thought.
He loved the way Tobio's hands could be rough and covered in tape and calluses after he came home from practicing all day, because that way he could massage them and kiss them better as they sat on the couch, legs intertwined with a shitty rom-com playing on the tv that they already knew they wouldn’t watch, and Kei would tell him to take it easy next time, always knowing Tobio’s answer would be a little hum of dismission. But Kei didn’t mind, because he knew Tobio said thank you in many other, subtle and thoughtful ways than just his words. He knew Tobio enjoyed being taken care of and repaid it how he knew Kei would appreciate it, like taking the time to make him coffee in the morning after their morning run (just how he likes it, not too hot, with two sugar cubes and some cream), or waking him up with kisses when he knows Kei had been stressed the night before. All in all, their priorities were always taking care of each other.
This was true especially all throughout the years they played together. Tobio once told Kei, the first time he came to realize just how much he had fallen for him was after his injury during their match against Shiratorizawa. At that time, Tobio remembered, he felt like he needed to see Kei come back soon, not only because they needed him in the game but also because he wanted to confirm he was alright. The feeling of relief washing over him, paired with butterflies in his stomach that threatened to climb their way up to his throat that Tobio got when Kei came back, as Hitoka awkwardly told him later, was called love . After that Tobio had been observant, more so than ever before, and always made sure Kei was healthy. He asked Ennoshita to teach him how to tape better, brought an extra scarf during the winter in case Kei ever forgot, and his tosses to Kei never got any less demanding, but they always seemed to be in tune, full of consideration and delicacy. Looking back, it was all so obvious, but it took some time for Kei to come to terms with it. Tobio had always been willing to wait.
They filled their home with so many memories, after years of being together, but Kei’s favorites will always be the ones that were never photographed, the ones that come fleetingly during the quiet days, especially the memory of the first time Tobio ever gathered enough courage to finally confess. Kei recalled the night their fingers touched for the first time like it was yesterday, despite the near-decade between then and now. Tobio had a straight face, barely managing to hide a scowl, and despite his efforts, Kei could tell he was embarrassed because his ears were tinted the brightest shade of red Kei had ever seen. They were 15 and their crushes on each other were as obvious as the two of them were stupid, but once Tobio took a deep breath, pulled Kei’s scarf down just enough to expose his lips, and kissed him awkwardly and without any prior experience so as to know what to do after the first touch of their lips, Kei knew it would all be alright. And it was.
Kei didn’t play volleyball anymore, but when he did, they’d always go to each other’s games. Despite acting embarrassed around his teammates whenever Tobio cheered for him, or came running to give him a big kiss after a game, he couldn't say he didn't miss it. Tobio made a bad job at hiding his smile whenever Kei was the one on the cheering stands, on the other hand, and their pre-game routine became a pretty well known one; they’d hold hands and touch foreheads, letting any other noise around dissipate into nothingness, and one would pray for the other’s health and success. The first time Tobio went overseas, his teammates gave him a couple of minutes alone to facetime Kei, and they both cried a little. Tobio imagined Kei’s hands on his, but it could never come close to the real deal.
Tobio thought of Kei’s hands and felt warmth, settled deep within his chest, but also a sense of urgency; the feeling of never being able to take in enough of Kei, like taking a shell from the seafloor, knowing the ocean is vast and never-ending and deep and beautiful , and feeling like there’s simply not enough life for him to explore all of it, but at least wanting to try. Tobio could never stay still when Kei held his hand, always needing more, leaving a trail of kisses all the way from his fingers to his neck, where he knew Kei was most ticklish, and smiling against his soft skin when Kei told him to stop in between giggles. Tobio loved routines, could never function without them, and Kei was his most precious routine of all. He took his time with Kei, going slow enough that he could see Kei unraveling hopelessly at his fingertips, carefully caressing every inch of his lower back and thighs, sensing his body’s shivers, knowing everything was for him, and only him, and that was always the most rewarding feeling to him.
And despite Tobio always escalating things, leading Kei down a path of subtle touches and glances that more often than not, ended up with Kei’s hands gripping Tobio’s back tightly and passionately during their many sleepless nights, when Tobio could show Kei just how much he couldn’t be without his touch, and without his warmth, skin against skin and his breathless voice whispering whatever his intoxicated mind came up with at the moment… Despite all of that, Tobio eventually grew to appreciate and seek the quiet moments as well. In the quiet moments, Tobio could only hear the soft hum of their AC, the clinking of teacups against cutlery and each other’s slow breaths. During these quiet moments, Tobio felt like perhaps the luckiest man in the world, when the tea would work its magic and they’d both get sleepy, and Tobio could lay atop Kei’s chest and let him play with his hair while the sun changed the sky into a beautiful palette of orange and pink that they'd watch, silently and in love.
Kei’s hands were more slender and defined, more delicate, yet colder, even more so on the tips of his fingers. Unlike Tobio, Kei had no reason to care for his hands all that much, ever since he stopped playing professionally, yet they almost never looked unkempt and were always soft, even softer than his own. Before they moved in together Tobio always thought of Kei as someone careful and who always calculated his movements, that’s how he acted when they played together, after all; but the times Kei has come home from work with papercuts and sore knuckles has taught him otherwise. And to Tobio, it’s so endearing.
He even found Kei’s nail-biting habit endearing sometimes; although he had to consistently remind him not to, Kei only bit his nails when he was lost in thought and Tobio could only wonder what was keeping his mind so busy. He’d always been a little afraid to ask, but Kei always told him not to worry with a slight squeeze on his shoulder and a soft kiss on the cheek.
Maybe he’ll never know. But that was ok.
Kei thought of Tobio’s hands as a map, at times. The pretty creases along his palm were a road that Kei could follow when he was lost, when his own hands felt like a blank canvas. In Kei’s mind, the road, which starts all the way from his wrist, breaks apart into four sections where Tobio’s palm ends, and his fingers start. Kei wanted to head towards the third path, the third finger, the one he envisioned as his future, with the clear and promising image of a gold ring (and Tobio wearing it) at the end of it.
Maybe we’re too young, too foolish, was one of the thoughts that sometimes left Kei in a trance. Maybe it was a little silly of him to think this way, after all, but his feelings were always reassured when Tobio reached for him even in his sleep, arms loosely wrapping around him whenever Kei couldn’t fall asleep, and Tobio’s soft snores always managed to act as a lullaby. Those were the moments when Kei thought, I really can’t live without you, either. Still, Kei had no courage. Tobio always did.
They had talked about it before, of course. Marriage. Or, at least Tobio thinks they did. The first, and only, time Kei ever mentioned it, he was tipsy after a work party, and he said he wanted to have a strawberry flavored cake for the reception, all while being lovingly undressed and tucked into bed by his ecstatic boyfriend, eyes gleaming even at the thought of spending the rest of his life with Kei. They went back and forth, talking about the things they’d like to have in their wedding, even pointing Tadashi and Shouyou as their best men, and this went on until they fell asleep, with Tobio's hand loosely tucked under Kei's neck. Tobio wasn’t sure if Kei remembered the conversation the morning after, and decided to leave it a secret in case Kei felt embarrassed, but now that he knew how Kei felt, he felt like he was ready, too. And he couldn’t have been more excited, yet nervous, at the same time.
It was on a similar night as that of their first kiss, their first touch, that they made their first official promise. The moon was out and Tobio’s ears were bright red, and his pinky shyly peeked from under his heavy coat looking for Kei’s, like a puppy looking for reassurance. This came as a surprise to Kei, who had seen and grown accustomed to Tobio acting with ease around him, and like being with Kei was second nature, rarely ever getting embarrassed anymore. This time was different, though, and Kei’s heart raced as he saw the shy boy, now a handsome young man, he had seen confess to him 10 years ago, right in front of him again. Tobio’s lips were moving and Kei tried to focus on his words, but his heartbeat rang loudly in his ears and before he knew it, Tobio was kneeling. His hands were wobbly as he held out a box with a ring, maybe from nervousness, maybe because of the cold weather, maybe a nerve-wracking combination of both. Kei felt his hands move to cup Tobio’s, acting on instinct like they knew how to only when Kei was with Tobio. Tobio smiled tearfully at the kind, silent gesture that made him fall in love with him in the first place.
“You’re an idiot, Tsukishima Kei.”
“You're the one that should’ve worn gloves, Kageyama Tobio. ”
“I’m trying to propose here, you know? You’re ruining it!” Kei laughed loudly, but his giggles quickly turned into sobs and hiccups. Tobio only realized he was crying as well when his vision became blurred with tears, and he got up to wipe them away, but Kei was already cupping his face. Their chests swelled with pure happiness and warmth, and they stood there, thumbs caressing tear-stained cheeks, cold lips trembling and swollen eyes looking into each other, for what seemed like forever. Tobio could only thank the universe for not having any away games that season, hands never wanting to touch anything that wasn’t Kei ever again.
“You’ll marry me, right, Kei?”
“If it means staying by your side forever, I’ll do anything, Tobio. Of course.”