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You're the poem he did not dare to write; an art that he could not seem to paint. His lips aches for yours on his, lips that seemed almost too holy on his. Nishinoya found himself drowning in the thought of you. It became an addiction.
So here he is, gawking at what seems to be the definition of beauty. An art or a poem; he couldn't seem to choose what you were. Metaphorically speaking, you were probably more than an art and a poem. You're just [Y/N] [L/N] and as simple as it's said, Nishinoya fell for you just like that.
"Can I kiss you?"
"... Yeah."
Just one word was all it took for Nishinoya's lips to embrace yours. The kiss was something ethereal. As if two mouths were filled with flowers; exchanging the season of spring into one another through this kiss. Nishinoya was right, you were more than an art and a poem. You were something else, something far from what he could ever imagine.
