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Every morning, without fail, Tsukishima received a morning text from Kageyama. It was a habit that he had started soon after moving to Tokyo, and it didn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon.
Tsukishima rarely saw Kageyama’s morning texts when he sent them—they always arrived at some ungodly hour of the morning since Kageyama liked to wake up early for a run. Usually, Tsukishima replied to them whenever he woke up hours later, at a more reasonable time.
The texts were bland, typical Kageyama. Hey. Good morning. I’m off for a run now. I’m back for a run now. I saw a cat on the way that looked like you . And so on and so forth.
This Friday was no different. When Tsukishima woke—at 9:30am, which left him just enough time to change, eat, and commute to university for his first class of the day—Kageyama’s morning messages awaited him. There were four of them today.
Kageyama: Morning.
Kageyama: I checked the weather in Sendai.
Kageyama: It looks like it might rain, so remember to bring an umbrella.
The last message was a photo. In it, Kageyama was frowning, brows furrowed in concentration. One of his hands was pushing up his shirt to reveal his stomach and part of his chest.
Tsukishima read the texts quickly, but the photo he looked at for a while longer. Having just woken up, his brain wasn’t fully functional just yet. He zoomed in on the photo at different spots, like it was a puzzle he needed to solve. Was there something he was supposed to see here?
After a few minutes, he decided to just ignore the photo, instead opening up his weather app. Sendai was expecting rain later in the afternoon, at least a 70% chance. He’d stick his umbrella in his book bag before heading to class then.
Tsukishima: Yeah, I’ll pack my umbrella. Thanks.
Then, Tsukishima pushed himself up from his bed and went to get ready for the day. He’d ask Kageyama about the strange photo later.
If the mornings were Kageyama’s time to reach out, the evenings were Tsukishima’s. Unless he was too busy with assignments (sometimes) or had another engagement with friends (rarely), he would call Kageyama every night.
Tonight, Tsukishima was thankfully free from any pressing assignments, as well as any overeager social invitations from his peers. He called Kageyama at 7:30, right after he had eaten dinner.
The phone rang for a few moments before Kageyama picked up. “Hey, king,” Tsukishima said. “You were right about the rain today. It ended pouring after my last class.”
Their nightly conversations, much like Kageyama’s morning messages, were typical and boring for the most part. Tsukishima thought he would tire of these mundane conversations quickly, but they were unexpectedly comforting. With the distance between them, it was nice to have a connection, even just through the phone.
“Oh, wait, I just remembered—what was with that photo you sent me this morning?”
“Did you like it?” Kageyama’s voice had perked up just the tiniest bit. “Ushijima-san told me sending photos like that was a good way to stay connected with your partner if you live apart.”
“Okay, well, first, photos like what?” Tsukishima switched to his messages to look at the photo again. “And second, Ushiwaka of all people told you to send it? To help our relationship?”
“It’s a sexy photo!” Kageyama said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Ushijima-san said his partner likes to receive shirtless photos of him and other stuff because they rarely get to see each other in person.”
“I’m not going to touch the Ushiwaka thing, but how was the photo you sent ‘sexy’?” Kageyama was desirable in many ways, especially physically, but the photo was more weird than anything. A stern frown and some incongruently revealed abs weren’t particularly enticing in Tsukishima’s opinion.
“Well, that’s how Ushijima’s photos look, so I just copied him.”
Tsukishima shut his eyes, a little horrified at imagining Ushijima sharing shirtless photos of himself with Kageyama during practice breaks or team outings. “I don’t know who Ushiwaka is dating or how low their standards are, but that is not how you take a sexy photo.”
“Do you not think I’m sexy then?” Tsukishima could imagine Kageyama’s frown just by the sound of his voice, mouth tugging down almost into a pout.
“I’m not here to boost your ego,” he said. “You know how you look and just how much I like you.” To the latter, the answer was too much, an almost embarrassing amount really. If Tsukishima looked at the awful photo Kageyama sent him long enough, he’d probably start finding some appeal in it, too.
“I’m going to keep sending you photos, then,” Kageyama said. It was a threat. “They’re going to be great, just you see.”
True to his word, Kageyama kept sending photos. They weren’t as routine as his morning messages, but he sent them often enough that Tsukishima knew to expect them at least a few times a week.
The quality of the photos was mixed. The first few following the first were along the same vein as the first, with Kageyama concentrating too hard to be particularly enticing. Some were just poorly shot, too blurry to be properly seen.
Some, though, were good—or at least they were the rare few that caused Tsukishima’s eyes to linger.
In one, Kageyama was clearly in a locker room after practice, sweat soaked and stripped down to just his shorts. The angle wasn’t great, but the way Kageyama looked, exhausted but still eager for more, reminded Tsukishima of the last time they met up. Again, Kageyama had mouthed into the pillows of Tsukishima’s bed. Please, more. Like he would never have enough.
In another, there was just the bare curve of Kageyama’s nape, a spot that Tsukishima had set his teeth to numerous times. Kageyama didn’t like to be marked, at least not on his neck, but sometimes, if Tsukishima fucked him well enough, he’d be pliant enough to give in, even arching into it. This photo was almost certainly accidental and not really fit to be sent, but it still enticed him nonetheless.
And another was one of Kageyama’s bare thighs, the hem of a university sweatshirt he had stolen from Tsukishima hanging over the top of them. If Kageyama was wearing anything underneath, it would’ve had to have been obscenely short. The photo made Tsukishima want to push the sweatshirt up and touch all the skin hidden in shadow.
Tsukishima’s favorite, though, which he would never admit to, wasn’t even particularly “sexy” or attempting to be. It was just Kageyama’s face pressed half into his pillow, hair still slightly damp and tousled after his bath. Tsukishima made it the home screen photo on his phone, and every time he looked at it, he was reminded of all their evenings, fewer and farther between as they were now, together.
Which ones did you like best? Kageyama would inevitably ask during their evening calls. Most of the time, Tsukishima just said that they all sucked, which was true. But sometimes, when a particular photo or two stuck out to him, he’d say, You looked good here, king, which was honestly the bare minimum of what he wanted to convey.
“You should send me some photos, too,” Kageyama said one night. “I’m always sending you stuff, but I never get to see you.”
“What, you forget what I look like already?” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, even though Kageyama wasn’t around to see it. “It hasn’t been that long since we’ve seen each other, you know.”
“Obviously not, stupid,” Kageyama huffed out. “But you have so many photos of me now, and I don’t even have one of you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a narcissist like you, so,” Tsukishima deflected.
“Kei.” Tsukishima scowled. That wasn’t a fair move, and Kageyama knew it. “Please.”
There was no way he was going to get out of this, then. “Fine,” Tsukishima sighed. “But just one.”
The next day, Tsukishima took a photo of himself and sent it off to Kageyama. It took him four tries to get a photo he was satisfied with, but at least it was done now.
“It wasn’t sexy enough,” Kageyama announced when he picked up the phone for Tsukishima’s evening call, instead of hello like someone with sense or manners. He said it like he was some connoisseur and not still sending terrible mostly-blurred shots half the time. At least Tsukishima’s photo had been in focus. “Why were you all covered up?”
“It was cold outside, and I was going to class,” Tsukishima said, deadpan. He broke apart a pair of disposable chopsticks to eat his dinner—a takeout meal of yakisoba. “His majesty isn’t satisfied, huh?”
“I can’t see anything good in the photo.” Kageyama was definitely pouting now. It was clear as day in his voice. “Send me another one, a better one.”
“You’re just after me for my body,” Tsukishima sighed, making sure to sound extra put-upon. It was mostly feigned, though. He had just been delaying the inevitable with the previous photo, an admittedly boring shot of his outfit for the day. “You want me to become an exhibitionist and walk around shirtless all the time, don’t you?”
“No,” Kageyama said, too serious for the current conversation, “of course not. It’s cold outside now, like you said. I just want to see more of you than just what you’re wearing.”
“Any requests then?” Tsukishima wasn’t asking seriously, but he was sure Kageyama would make his preferences known anyway. “I live to serve you, your majesty.”
Kageyama ignored his sarcasm, like he usually did. “I want to see your face, like up close. And you should take one with your shirt off. Oh, I want to see you in bed! Not in your pajamas though.”
“Anything else?” Tsukishima asked, voice dry as the desert. “Or should I just book a photography studio to fulfill all your dreams?”
“That’s it for now,” Kageyama said primly, like he hadn’t just been outlining a wishlist of provocative photos he wanted from Tsukishima. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “I’ll listen to any requests you have, too.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Tsukishima said, mind already running amuck of what he could ask Kageyama to do. Hopefully, a certain sweatshirt had been through the laundry recently.
It was a few days before Tsukishima had enough free time to take Kageyama’s requested photos. A flurry of assignments and projects had fallen into his lap, and he spent the last few days working tirelessly, sometimes too busy to even reply to Kageyama’s morning texts, much less call him in the evenings.
Tsukishima finished his last assignment at 10:30 pm on Friday, early by his own standards, but Kageyama had likely been asleep for at least fifteen minutes by now. There was no point in trying to call him.
Instead, he moved to his bedroom and set about fulfilling all of Kageyama’s requests, a chore that he had been thankful to put off for as long as he had.
Even as tired as he was and as ridiculous as he found the whole thing, Tsukishima was fastidious about the photos. He tested the lighting and which angles would be best to show what. He took photo after photo, rejecting any that were shaky or looked awkward.
After too much time, he was finally finished, selecting the best ones to send to Kageyama, a courtesy the other rarely thought to give him. They all looked fairly ridiculous anyway, but maybe that was because Tsukishima had felt more silly than seductive when taking them.
He sent the selected photos off without too much worry or fanfare. Kageyama wouldn’t be awake to see them for hours yet, but Tsukishima was sure he would have his fair share of comments and critiques when he did.
It was a surprise then, when his phone started ringing a few short minutes later, Kageyama’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hey, I thought—” But he was cut off before he could finish his sentence.
“Don’t be mad.” Kageyama’s voice was hurried, rowdy sounds cutting in and out like he was moving quickly through somewhere. “It was an accident.”
“What did you do?” With a greeting like that, any positive feeling he had about Kageyama's call quickly evaporated. Nothing good could have possibly happened.
“I didn’t do anything!” The background noise had changed now, less raucous and more subdued, like Kageyama had found a more private location to talk. “It’s just … um, I’m out with the team right now, and some of them saw the photos you sent.”
Tsukishima’s body went cold, whether it was from embarrassment or anger he couldn’t tell. He almost hung up the phone then and there, but forced himself to take a few calming breaths before speaking again. “And how exactly did they see them?”
“Um, my phone was on the table when your messages came in. I was talking to Romero-san then, so I didn’t notice, but Hoshiumi-san did so he opened them, and well.”
Tsukishima rubbed a hand against his temple, where he could definitely feel a headache building. “I have so many questions, but I’m not sure I even want to know the answers. How many people saw?”
“Only three!” Tsukishima could hear Kageyama pacing back and forth wherever he was, steps quick and worried. “Hoshiumi-san, obviously, Ushijima-san, and Romero-san. I was able to get my phone back before anyone else saw, though!”
Three people seeing his private photos to Kageyama wasn’t bad, but it was also three people he could never show his face in front of anymore. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get into another sport. Wasn’t he tall enough for basketball anyway?
“Kei, are you still there?”
“I’m here,” Tsukishima sighed, tossing an arm over his eyes. This is what he got for trying to be a good boyfriend. Never again. He was just going to be mean and aloof, and Kageyama would just have to be grateful for it.
“It’s not that bad,” Kageyama tried. “Ushijima-san said whatever workout routine you're doing is really working.”
If that had been Kageyama’s attempt at comforting him, he missed the mark spectacularly. Bad enough that Ushijima of all people had seen the pictures—but the fact that he actually paid Tsukishima a compliment about the way he looked in them was ... too much.
“I’m so glad Ushiwaka enjoyed the private photos meant for my boyfriend,” Tsukishima huffed. “You do know that this means I’m never sending you pictures again, right?”
“What? No!” Now it was Kageyama’s turn to huff. “It was just an accident! I didn’t even get a chance to look at them closely yet either!”
“Well, you’ll have all the time in the world now since those are the only ones you’re getting from me.”
“What if I stop sending you pictures then, huh?” Kageyama challenged.
“Go ahead,” Tsukishima said. “My messages will finally be less cluttered with your terrible, blurry shots.” Not to mention that the photos that had turned out well already filled up a modestly sized folder on his phone. He had more than enough to satiate him at the moment.
“You’re the worst.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Tsukishima brushed off Kageyama’s petulance. If anyone should have been saying that, it was him. “Keep your phone close to you from now on at least.”
When Tsukishima woke up the next morning, Kageyama’s morning texts were waiting for him as usual.
Kageyama: Morning.
Kageyama: I forgot to tell you last night, but everyone said sorry for seeing the photos. They shouldn’t have looked.
Kageyama: I still like them, though.
Kageyama: You look really good, and seeing them makes me …
Kageyama: I miss being able to see you and touch you.
Tsukishima: Morning
Tsukishima: If you're trying to sweet talk me into sending you more photos, it's not going to work.
Kageyama: I washed your school sweater this week ...
Kageyama: You liked the last photo I wore it in, right?
Tsukishima: I'm not as easy as you think I am, king.
Kageyama: Aren't you?
Kageyama: [photo]
Tsukishima: Good effort, 3/5
Tsukishima: Try again, and maybe if you manage to get the photo in focus, I'll be convinced.