i know who my first call will be to — sae misses home more than he thought he would
Itoshi Sae’s heart stays behind in Spain whenever he leaves for overseas matches.
An absurd notion, most certainly. Ridiculous, in every sense that exists to the word. So unbelievable, in fact, that he still has a hard time believing it himself.
Nevertheless, it remains the only explanation behind the ache in his chest whenever he goes to sleep in an empty hotel bed. It’s why his meal times are dull and monotonous; why he finds himself pushing past his bedtime to remain glued to his phone, listening to you recounting your day.
Sae isn’t sure if you know it — how he desperately yearns to remain by your side. And if you do, you’re good at hiding it (he likes to think it’s for his sake).
His grip on his phone tightens just enough, a soft hum rumbling in his throat as he absentmindedly agrees with something you said.
When you lean closer to the screen, Sae nuzzles into his pillow, holding it tight as he pretends it’s you instead. You cup your chin with your hand, looking away as you trail off mid-sentence.
“I miss you,” he says, quiet and soft and so, so unlike himself, filling the faintest gap of silence.
Your eyes flit back, meeting his own through the screen. Sae has to strain to catch the soft exhale that leaves your lips. Then, you smile — gentle and (somehow) pitying at the same time.
“You’ll be home soon enough,” you say, your tone full of warmth.
“I want to be home now,” he replies, almost petulant as the pillowcase slightly muffles his words. His gaze softens when you do. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” you whisper, lightly poking the camera in a manner that has him instinctively scrunching up his nose. You tilt your head to the side, studying half of his face as best you can through a phone.
“My flight back is on Saturday,” Sae says, studying your face in return.
“I know. Want me to pick you up?”
“I land around midnight,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to keep you up—”
“Sae.”
The tips of his ears burn, embarrassment painting his cheeks red when your eyes meet. After a beat, he huffs in complaint, his brows furrowing. Still, your gaze softens; and he melts almost instantly.
He sniffles, lightly shifting onto his side. “I want you to pick me up from the airport,” he clarifies, trying to will a little firmness into his voice.
“Hm,” there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest, fluttering and clinging to every corner at your soft hum. It further roots itself into him when you grin. “I’ll think about it.”
“What’ll it take for you to say yes?” he asks, trying to bite back a smile. He nuzzles into his pillow when you lean back, pretending to be deep in thought.
God, he misses you so bad. He misses being near you with every bone in his body.
“A kiss, maybe. If you want.”
Sae rolls his eyes, fondness buzzing in his chest. “I thought you were going to be more ambitious than that.”
You shrug, nonchalant, “I’ll max out your card when you get home.”
“Mm.” Sae rolls onto his other side, switching his phone to his free hand. “That sounds more like you,” he mumbles, soft.
The corners of his eyes crinkle when you guffaw, quickly defending yourself against his claim. His expression softens impossibly so — he’s sure the press would have a field day if they saw him like this. (Part of him thinks he wouldn’t care if they did; you’re the reason behind it, anyway).
“I wanna go home.”
“You’re staying in France for, like, two more days. You’ll be fine, Sae.”
He rolls his eyes, picking at the edges of his phone case. “Have you washed the bedsheets yet?”
“Yesterday,” you reply, absentminded. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” Sae murmurs, hushed. “Did you use the detergent I like?”
“Yeah?”
He makes a soft noise, “I hope you know I’m collapsing on our bed when I get home.”
“I don’t—”
“And I’m bringing you down with me.”
A soft, amused huff leaves his lips at your expression. His eyes narrow just a little, the action fond and affectionate in nature. When you sputter, Sae scrunches up his nose. He wishes he could kiss the frown off your lips.
“Whatever,” you grumble, softly clicking your tongue. “You’re lucky I miss you.”
“I miss you more,” Sae whispers, soft and gentle and so, so unlike himself. He supposes his demeanor is your fault — his heart turned to mush the moment he gave it to you. The thought is stupid and utterly asinine, truly.
Still, Sae doesn’t mind. He believes it more and more, letting it take root in his soul every time you brighten up at his tender, ‘I love you’s.
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katsuki likes to bite you. it’s his weird way of showing you affection. whenever he feels like annoying you (because he can’t live for more than ten seconds if he’s not being a nuisance) but he also wants to you to know he cares, he’ll find whatever part of your skin is exposed and just—bite.
you don’t remember when he started doing it but you’ve never stopped him so he hasn’t stopped. he bites your exposed shoulder when hes walking by and your lounging in the living area of the dorms, he grabs your hand and bites at your fingers when you’re alone and he bites at your cheeks and nose when you get mad at him for ‘being mean’ and teasing you. to which he always replies with “you love it.”
“why do you do that ?” you asked randomly after he bit your cheek again while you were watching a movie in his room. he looks down at you and his brows furrow in confusion “ do what ?” he asks.
“ bite me,” you play with the ends of his hair a little, it’s been getting longer and he’ll complain about it soon(the only reason he hasn’t cut it yet is because you said it looked good on him) “ why do you that ?” he goes quiet for a moment, gauging to see if you were upset, was it suddenly bothering you ?
he frowns. lips already unconsciously forming into a pout when he speaks “ ya don’t like it when i do ?” he tries to sound self assured, but his question comes out whiny. you smile lightly at him, nosing at the underside of his jaw. “it’s not that, dummy. just wonder why you do it.”
his nose scrunches at the nickname but he pays it no further mind. he huffs out a little breath and looks away from you towards the tv screen, a pink tint grows on his cheeks. having to tell you why he does it suddenly makes him embarrassed.
“jus’ feel like it. f’ya don’t mind when i do it why’re you questioning me about it.” you feel his hand heat up from where he has it pressed against your stomach under your shirt, no doubt getting more and more embarrassed having to explain why he has this weird little habit.
you shrug, sighing and nuzzling into him a little more. you press a light peck to his neck and his hand heating up even more makes you smile “i don’t mind it, just never had anyone bite me before.”
“good” he huffs, suddenly pressing you closer to his side. a sudden rush of protectiveness washing over him “get used to it. m’the only one who’s gonna be doing that from now on, got that ?”
“alright” you giggle. you suddenly get an idea and you look up at him. “you wouldn’t mind it if i bit you, then ?” a teasing smirk appears on your face when he almost cracks his neck when looking down at you, wide eyed and cheeks absolutely set ablaze. he sputters and looks away, unable to keep eye contact as he looks to the screen again.
“knock yourself out.” he tries to sound indifferent but his voice cracks a little at the end of his sentence and he cranes his neck to the side a bit to give you more access. you don’t mention either. instead you lean closer to him and nip at his neck lightly. his hold on you tightens for a moment before loosening up slightly and he suddenly won’t look at you anymore. not even when you laugh and poke at his cheek, asking him what’s got him so red in the face. his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are so laser focused on the tv you fear he might burn a hole through it. he offers you nothing more than a harsh glare and a muttered out “shush.”
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