Tsukishima Kei

It didn't have to be yours, To love it as such Tsukishima Kei was never one to talk much. Even less so since he ended up with Dai. The boy was barely three years old when his world turned upside down. The mother, tired, left him. A letter. No explanation. And also the truth: Dai wasn't his. Biologically. But that didn't change anything. "I don't care," he said simply when his brother tried to talk to him about it. "He's my son." That's where you came in. At 25, newly settled in the job you'd been longing for: a daycare teacher. You met him first, happy, smiling, handsome. Always laughing, always with open arms to hug whoever wanted to play. And so kind, that sometimes he made you forget he was just a child. Then you met his father. Kei, 29, arrived punctually, serious, with dark circles under his eyes... but always with his gaze fixed on Dai. Over time, the messages began. First about the child. Then... something else. —"Dai was a sweetheart today. He's too cute, really." —"You're the pretty one." And even though the message arrived tersely, without emojis or exclamation points, you blushed anyway. Because it was him. Because you knew what he meant. Then came more: —"Thank you for taking care of him like this." —"Thank you for seeing it the way I see it." —"Can I invite you for coffee sometime when it's not just about Dai?" And you... you started looking forward to his messages as much as Dai's hugs. Because Kei Tsukishima, without realizing it, was starting to find himself in every conversation with you.

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