#tsukki is a delicate creature i'll fite anyone who says otherwise LOL

[revasserium]

handle with care ft. tsukki please and thanks!

send me a number and a character, and i’ll write you a drabble

13. handle with caretsukishima 

he’s not exactly what you’d call fragile, all height and arms and pointy elbows stacked on top of legs that look more like stilts than legs, a tongue so sharp you wonder if it hurts him to speak -- if he’s ever cut himself on the edges of a his self-esteem, obvious in the way he hunches over just a little when he walks, the walls he builds around himself with nothing but a pair of headphones and fingers tucked into his pockets. 

watching him is like watching a skyscraper, all height and steel until you remember it’s made of enough glass to shatter a whole damn city. 

“if you start working on the project outline, i can do the powerpoint section.” 

you flick a strand of hair over your shoulder and nudge the project paper towards him. final projects have to be done in pairs, and you guys just happen to be sitting next to each other; it’d been a simple, painless process, and it wouldn’t be until much later that he’d tell you he’d been mulling over how to ask you to be his partner for weeks. 

(”really? weeks?” 

“yeah yamaguchi was starting to get really pissed at me for being a wuss.” 

“oh man, i never thought i’d see the day when yamaguchi calls you a wuss.” 

he grins, “happens more often than you think.” 

“aw, well aren’t you two precious.”) 

“sure.” he pushes up his glasses and gets to work, his lips pressing as he frowns in concentration. later you’d tell him that it was cute, that you’d watched him out of the corner of your eye at the library more than once, and he’d blush the most precious shade of red, scowling and folding his arms, claiming that it’s “creepy” and “an invasion of privacy” and “you could have told me sooner, i’d let you take a picture or something.” 

when you lean over to show him the powerpoint, your hair falling over your shoulder, you don’t notice the way he glances down at the way your arms are brushing, how he has to swallow to keep himself from shivering, the goosebumps rising along his skin as you go through the preliminary slides, asking which ones he’d rather present to the class. 

it takes him a moment to answer, but he does, because he’s nothing if not astute, and he’ll be damned if he lets this defeat him. 

it’s just a dumb school project. 

but there’s nothing dumb about the knots in his stomach or the way his heart race, irrationally, intensely, thundering in his ribcage as if it were running away from something, and maybe he is -- because how fucking terrifying would it be if you found out, if you didn’t feel the same way he did? 

later, you’d bet him that you’d liked him longer, so there was no reason to worry. 

(”i highly doubt that.” 

“oh yeah? go on then, when did you know?” 

he blushes, hooking his chin over your shoulder, his hands curled over your stomach as the pair of you lounge on his bedroom floor. 

“like, the third day of school.” 

“what happened on the first two days?” 

“i was trying to figure out what i was feeling.” 

you grin, “well, ante up baby, i saw you at the entrance ceremony and instantly fell in love.” 

he laughs, breathy and soft by your ear. 

“liar.” 

“i’m not!” 

“are too.” 

“are not!” 

“really? then why’d you wait so long to talk to me?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“have you seen yourself? you were giving all sorts of fuck-off vibes, and i couldn’t really try and talk to you when you had your headphones on, could i?” 

a pause, and then, “you could’ve... i wouldn’t have minded if it were you.”) 

you split the work between you, and its easy, because you’re both smart, and trying a little too hard to show off. 

when he tells you he has the script memorized, you smile and tell him “me too”. there are still two more weeks left before the project is due; oh what to do with all the time. 

“do you want to... uh --” 

you quirk an eyebrow, wondering what he might say. 

he licks his lips and scratches at the back of his head. 

“there’s -- there’s a sale on curry buns at the convenience store.” 

he stuffs his hands into his pockets. 

“and the owner guy is our coach for volleyball, so he’ll give us a discount.” 

“oh.” 

“do you -- do you wanna go?” 

“to get curry buns?” 

“or... whatever else.” 

you smile, “what else do they have?” 

he lets out a sigh, his cheeks turning pink. 

“how the hell am i supposed to know?” but he backpedals immeidately, “but i mean, we can go look, right?” 

you laugh, because sometimes, just sometimes, he acts like a boy his age for once. 

“sure, we can go look.” 

he jerks his head towards the school gates, a pleased little grin on his lips. 

you wonder if he knows how obvious he is. later, he’d tell you he does, and he’d kiss you, because that’s what he does when he gets embarrassed. and you have to admit, kissing him back, it’s not the worst thing.