This Is Just Everything - Tumblr Posts
Acceptance
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“I’ve just had a thought.”
Kei looks up from his phone, eyes drooping, the hour you’ve spent lounging on the couch rendering him immune to the fact that his neck is bent at a disastrous angle against the armrest. It has you pulling him forward, taking the pillow from under your neck to stuff under his, but it’s a fine trade. Now you can lay against the warmth of his chest and settle into what Kei calls the pre-nap—or, what he used to call it, back when he was still too embarrassed to simply say that he wanted cuddles.
“Woah, careful there," he can't pass up the opportunity to start with. Then, "Good kind or bad kind?”
You hum. “Sickeningly domestic kind.”
“So… good,” he decides after a beat, setting his phone down on the coffee table.
Those long, gentle fingers you love slide into your hair, and it’s a wonder how they always sate an itch that only manifests itself mere seconds before the touch, just so they can be rubbed away by him and him alone; suspiciously wizard-like. “It’s not like I’m opposed to any of that. Since it’s you.”
Aww.
“Honeycakes—” you coo obnoxiously, disguising his name in the endearment, which gets you exactly what you'd expect—the full moon's circumference of his palm eclipsing your vision, his grip light as he smushes your face around for a while, unable to rid himself of the urge. When he lets go a minute later, you share a look of mirrored contentment, all stupid smiles and rolling eyes, before you settle your ear over his heart and he resumes massaging your scalp.
Whatever video he was watching drones on in the meantime. Something about a supermoon coming up and dropping temperatures… Partly rainy with a high of seventy-three degrees and a low of sixty-eight degrees and—wow, he really got sucked into watching the weather channel... But it’s quiet enough to tune out against the steady drum in his ribs, so you both leave it be.
“Your idea, baby.”
“Oh, right. So I was thinking—y’know, when we start buying stuff for the house…”
“Mmhm?”
“For utensils, what if we found the same forks you grew up using, and the same spoons I had, so that our future kid'll have pieces of both of our childhoods already built into theirs? Our own little mismatched set.” "You're right..." It's quiet for a moment. Then Kei blows out a breath, his mind positively sunnier with the image. “That is sickeningly domestic.”
You open your mouth to defend the idea—because it is a good idea, notes-app worthy, even—when he tacks on, “I’m not saying no. God, you’re just so cute sometimes...” the words followed up by him pulling on your cheek. “Is that why you kept hovering by the drawer when we visited my mom? ‘What if’ my ass. You already found them on google, didn't you?”
Your laugh gives you away. He’s right—they’re in your amazon shopping cart as you speak, just waiting on his two cents.
“What about chopsticks, then? And knives. And spatulas.”
Spatulas?
Kei only shrugs in response.
“The rest can be new. I don’t want all of it to be us holding onto old things,” you pause. “But my star curtains are non-negotiable.”
“They have holes.”
“Those are the cutouts! And you even said they were pretty when the light’s seeping through them.”
“Okay, yes, they are pretty," he relents, setting his glasses down by his phone. Silencing the weather report with a slide of his thumb. “But furnishings aside, we’d still be missing one thing…”
“Tsukishima Kei, I know exactly what you’re gonna say…” You find yourself being rolled onto your back, his pupils pushing the golden-brown of his irises to the outer rims as they dilate. “And the answer is no.”
“What?” Kei smirks, almost sing-songy as he trails kisses down your collar. He’s not actually gunning for that part of your life together yet. Key word—yet. You’d both agreed to preserve the first year of your marriage for just the two of you. Figuring out the ins and outs of buying a house together and all the legalities that came with it had been hard enough on its own.
Everything after your one-year anniversary, though, is completely fair game.
“You’re the one who brought up a little Tsukishima…”