Just let me understand you || Tsukishima Kei Story

Friendly reminder that this is what Christopher looks like, with longer hair

Y/n's pov

"What floor do you live on?" I ask looking up at the building.

"The sixth," he says going up behind me, to push the wheelchair.

That's right guys, I have this sickest ride for the next two weeks, mostly because I'm stupid and can't figure out how to move around with crutches. Anyway, it's sick.

"I thought that I wasn't allowed to come here," I say.

"Well your mom doesn't want you and your brother screaming at each other," he says. "Especially when you have a concussion."

"Concussions are just a state of mind," I say. "I don't have one."

"You do and you need to be careful," he says. "I don't need you to get hurt any more than you already are."

"When do I get to go back to Japan?" I ask.

"Three weeks, give or take," he says pressing the elevator button. "Don't want you flying with a concussion and you've gotta learn how to use the crutches."

"You're coming with me right?" I ask looking up at him.

"Of course," he says. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "Cuz I might just start yelling at you, and maybe you'll fall down the stairs next."

"Yell at me all you want," he says wheeling me out of the elevator. "Pent up anger isn't healthy."

"Good to know," I nod my head. "What about kickboxing, when are you going to teach me that?"

"Uh not for a while," he says. "You won't get your cast off for two and a half months, I don't want you to reinjure yourself."

"That sucks ass," I mumble.

"Okay, this is my apartment," he says pushing open the door. "Don't make fun of it, I know it's empty."

In all honesty, I thought it was gonna be like some 'guys' apartment, not to be sexist or anything. But maybe some punching bags, sports stuff, y'know? But nope. It's clean and bright, with big windows with a nice view.

"Why would I make fun of this?" I ask wheeling myself through the door.

Also, it's not even that empty, the living room had a nice couch, tv, coffee table, pretty classy.

"So you got something really embarrassing in here that you don't want me to see?" I ask. "Hmm?"

"No, of course, I don't have anything embarrassing in here-" he pauses. "Actually hold that thought."

He quickly closes the front door before disappearing into what I can only assume is his bedroom. If it's a blow-up doll, I'm blowing this popsicle stand, no cap.

"Okay everything all fine," he says, holding a bag now.

That's weird, that's suspicious.

"Lemme see what's in the bag," I say holding out my hand.

"It's nothing, I'm just gonna run downstairs and put it in my car," he says. "Make yourself at home."

"Lemme see what's in the bag," I say. "Please."

"You should eat something," he says. "I'll be back."

"Christopher," I say. "Lemme see, if you don't show me then I'll just have to assume that it's something really dodgy."

"Like what?" he asks, still holding his bag.

"I don't know, drugs, something else but I don't really wanna say it out loud because it's kinda gross," I say. "Have any guess?"

"God no, it's nothing like that," he says. "I don't have that kinda shit."

"Then lemme see," I say still holding out my hand. "I won't laugh or anything."

"Fine," he says handing me the bag. "If you do I might accidentally lose your wheelchair when you go to sleep."

"If you lose it then you'll just have to carry me around everywhere," I say opening up the bag. "Chile, now I'm disappointed, I thought that it was going to be something super weird."

"Now that you saw it I can just throw it out," he says taking it back. "I'll be back."

"Hey, why are you going to throw it out?" I ask. "It's cute, you can't throw out a stuffed toy, it's gonna get sad."

"I'm not gonna actually throw it out," he says. "I was just gonna pout it in my trunk and re-evaluate why I thought it was a good idea."

"What having a stuffed toy?" I ask. "I think it's pretty manly, don't get your panties in a bunch."

"What? This isn't mine," he says. "I was gonna give it to you as like a get well gift, but that's kinda creepy."

Bruh.

"In what way is that creepy?" I ask. "I broke my leg and you grabbed a stuffed toy from a gift shop or something, are you dumb?"

"I'm not dumb," he says. "I just didn't want it to be weird."

"Should it be weird?" I ask. "Am I weird for not thinking it's weird?"

"No, I don't think it's weird," he says. "I just don't know if it's weird."

"Were friends, so it's not weird," I say. "I accept your gift."

"Fine, then I'm happy that you accept it," he says.

"Is that why it's a Bird?" I ask. "Cuz it's me?"

"Well of course it is," he says. "Who else would it be?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "A ghost?"

"You're the only Bird I see here," he says.

"Is that a compliment?" I ask.

"Sure," he smiles. "It's a compliment."

"Complements make me want to roll over and drown in a pit of despair," I say. "But thank you."

"I'll just pretend like I understand that," he says. "So what do you want to eat?"

Dat ass, sorry default response. I don't mean that.

"Pizza, but only if you're paying," I say.

"Well obviously I wouldn't make you pay," he says pulling out his phone.

"God bless," I smile. "But before you call the pizza place, can ya help me get on the couch? Ion wanna kill myself just yet."

"Don't do that, ever," he says.

"I'll do whatever I want to," I say. "I'm a bad bitch."

"I'm not joking around," he says. "Don't do anything stupid, promise?"

"Ugh, fine," I sigh. "Just help me out here."

"Promise," he says. "I'm not gonna help you until you promise."

"Fine, I promise not to kill myself," I laugh. "Happy?"

"Very," he says before helping me to the couch.

It's that time again, predictions guys, about any aspect of the story.

-Crouton