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At twenty-five and twenty-three, they make a promise to each other.
It's a promise they make with linked pinkies and tender smiles and nervous hearts, quivering with the thought what if he doesn't want this even though they know each other better than that.
It's the what ifs that are terrifying in life, the certainty of unsureness.
But even so, they know they want each other.
.
.
.
What if
- they hadn't met each other at that one practice match between Nekoma and Karasuno, between two old rivals? At the match that sparked the rivalry to life, if only for a little?
- Tetsurou hadn't taken the first step and quipped that ”maybe you should go wild like a high schooler” to Kei with an infuriating (charming) grin and an easy stance meant to disarm everyone's anxieties?
- the training camp had never happened? If Bokuto and Tetsurou hadn't invited Kei to their evening practice, smiling while Kei frowned even as Tetsurou provoked him into joining, who knows where they would be at now, about eight years later from that moment.
- Tetsurou had taken the time to properly apologize to Kei for stepping on his feelings instead of going out of his way to say sorry to Daichi? Sure enough, Kei hadn't held it against Tetsurou since those words, even if they were only meant to rev Kei's engines up, had been the truth and nothing more. To be fair, however, Tetsurou had apologized once they started talking more, privately and off court and as something like friends. The what if still stands. (Perhaps, perhaps I'd have fallen sooner, Kei sometimes thinks, but he is quick to shake that thought off.)
- they hadn't spend so much time practicing together, Tetsurou mentoring Kei and Kei listening, with some skepticism towards Tetsurou's intentions? For one, Kei has to acknowledge, he wouldn't have been as good as a middle blocker as he was by the time Shiratorizawa match rolled by. Another thing, Tetsurou adds, is that he wouldn't have fallen headfirst for Kei. It wasn't love at first sight, Kei insists, and Tetsurou agrees. It was love at eleventh.
- they hadn't exchanged numbers in August after one last weekend camp? ”I do wanna know how you and your team are doing,” Tetsurou had said, his smile as easy as always, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. ”You have our captain's number, don't you?” Kei had rolled his eyes, cautious but lowkey interested even if he wouldn't admit that for a while yet. Tetsurou smiled at him, a tilt of his lips that was almost as exasperated as it was fond.
”Sawamura is not you,” is what he had said, his hand reaching to touch Kei's before freezing on the spot as if only then remembering Kei's aversion to uninvited contact. That moment is what stands out to both of them still, after months and years, even with rings on their fingers and words of affection falling free from their mouths.
- Kei had allowed them to drift apart after Tetsurou's graduation? The thought is terrifying, now, seeing how important part of each other's lives they are now. All the text messages after Tetsurou's graduation and between Kei's own, all of those matter as the foundation of their feelings, as a build-up of their friendship.
- the nights where they could hardly set their phones down when they were talking to each other didn't exist? It is unthinkable for them now, as the memories of long nights spent on typing up responses on smartphones are etched deep into their heads, the most important messages stuck in their heads and hearts for the years to come.
Kei remembers Tetsurou's it's alright to go slow as long as you're making some progress even though he would deny such even now – nevertheless, it's a piece of advice that has helped him see the value of his growth, the value in baby steps.) Tetsurou remembers Kei's aren't you your own worst enemy after a tiring day at college and Kei's practice. The context fades over time until it ceases to exist, but those words Tetsurou holds close to him, through the rocky parts of his studies, through his wavering hope of ever confessing to Tsukishima.
All those what-ifs could have changed their story, both of them acknowledge as much. Some less than others, but some more drastically.
There's no room for what-ifs now, however, even though one of them is more likely to cling to the possibilities rather than reality itself and get emotional over the fact that this is real, this is happening, I can love you like I have wanted all along.
”Dork,” Kei says fondly, his hands cradling Tetsurou's face tentatively, like this is new, like they're new even though they're not.
This promise is new – a new addition to their already steady relationship.
(And it is steady despite all the hardships, the fights that every couple go through.)
”Says the nerd king himself,” Tetsurou teases him back, the dimples obvious on his face as he smiles under Kei's touch.
”Tch,” Kei rolls his eyes as Tetsurou's arms sneak around his waist, eager to touch Kei back with the most innocent intentions. ”You love it, really,” Kei says with a quirk of his mouth indicating a smile, and Tetsurou hums pleasantly in response.
”Of course I do,” he murmurs as Kei's long fingers trace at his cheekbone, brushing against the peak before moving up to Tetsurou's ear, to its back and-- ”Ah, Tsukki, that tickles!”
The cold metal of the band on Kei's ring finger presses against Tetsurou's skin along with the rest of Kei's hand, his cool fingers bringing heat with them to Tetsurou's face.
Kei looks at him, his own lips curling. ”Call me Kei, Tetsurou,” he says quietly, flushing as his voice cracks with emotion. Quickly, he looks away to contain himself, fingers twitching on Tetsurou's skin.
”Kei,” Tetsurou whispers with fondness that has weathered all kinds of storms, ”I love you.”
Kei has heard the words before, but there's something more assured now, something confident – I'll love you until the end of my days – something that makes their promise stand firm in both their minds.
Kei stops to marvel it.
There has been a time when he was cynical about first love's longevity, about whether love could last a lifetime. (He's a realist by nature, believes in the eventual death of all good things.)
Even now, he's not an idealist.
But even if he cannot trust in the idea of love, the idea of starcrossed lovers, he can trust in Tetsurou and his exaggerated proclamations of utmost affection – and that, Kei thinks, is what matters the most, other than the feelings he harbors for Tetsurou in return.
”Me too,” Kei says back, eyes softening and the wrinkle between his brows disappearing as he moves his hands to the back of Tetsurou's neck and leans in for a feather-light kiss.
”Good,” Tetsurou grins against Kei's lips, ”you should love yourself.”
”That's not what I meant at all.”
”I know,” Tetsurou hums and steals a kiss as he pulls Kei even closer by his waist. They're still seated on the worn-out couch of their apartment, the boxes of their rings lying open on the coffee table. It's a domestic scene, a normal one if the rings are excluded. (Though they will get used to them soon.)
The words please marry me have been said, as they are easier on the tongue than the reality – and more romantic.
Kei appreciates the sentiment for what it is worth.
”Love you, too,” Kei says. Returning the words has never been easier than right now, and perhaps they should take that as a sign that this is right, that this is meant to be.
Through sickness, through health – they would shelter each other through the upcoming storms as well as the sunny days.
That's the plan and the promise.