character a confesses to character b after pining for them so long and character b feels the same way but is insecure and thinks character a deserves better so character b starts rambling and listing every single "flaw" of theirs and character a just simply replies "that's every single thing i love about you though?"
hq fic series where u think onigiri miya is the most normal place in the city ever and then u start meeting weirdos (msby adlers and everyone else esp atsumu) and having weird experiences with them (every single thing they do)
kageyama tobio is a persistent and prideful man. he isn't going to lose to you or lose you that easily.
tobio is used to impermanence.
he never set too high of an expectation—hell, not even just an expectation—when it comes to people coming into and out of his life. the cycle of coming and going isn't unfamiliar territory to him, and he even welcomes it with open arms whenever it comes around. people could pity him all they want, but it's how he's gotten from there to then. he's built an armor for it, attempting to numb everything.
however, how he's gotten through then to now is a different story. instead of an unfamiliar lone path, he feels he's taking on one he knows, because with every step he takes, he believes its on its way to you. this path feels right, and so he doesn't fret when you hold his hand and let your minds wander.
and through the bits of doubt either of you find yourselves having, you've only managed to build a religion out of a once faithless love.
tobio is used to impermanence, but he's so much more used to you.
so when the threat to what you've built comes, he tries to take it as a joke, in hopes that maybe, you just weren't in the right mind. maybe you just needed someone—him—to knock some sense back into your head. maybe you just wanted to scare him, see how he'll react like what those people online do (he doesn't understand the fun of it though, still, he'll forgive you for this one, like he always does,) but he sees how heavy the burden weighs on your eyes and hands, endlessly tiring you out since it came into your life.
so he hopes again, another one that he's gotten down.
this time, he doesn't know what to hope for when the truth is laid in front of him.
he's not a religious person, but he's on his knees with his heart holding itself together with the faith that you can both hold onto this forever, begging and praying that you're not just another passerby or phase.
but no one and nothing hear his pleads, something that he's gotten used to too.
"you didn't sleep enough last night, did you?" tobio furrows his brows, a seemingly provocative expression on his face.
you frown in disbelief. "tobio, my sleep schedule doesn't concern this. it just feels like-"
"oh yeah?" you wish he was kidding, but he's nothing but serious, especially at 3 am. "last time i heard that it does! you know, remember when you were so caught up in how-"
disappointed, your voice echoes in the room. "tobio, quit running away from the issue!" even if you wanted to run away from it too.
"then tell me, what led to this?" his hands grasp tightly on the sheets as if it was you he's holding.
the tension's too thick to cut through or breathe comfortably in, and there's nothing to do about it other than to cross your fingers and wait for it to go.
(and maybe it'll only go if this breaks.)
he's caught off guard when the bed gets soaked with your tears, and he's aching to wipe them away from your eyes. he reached out, only for you to turn away from him and wipe them yourself.
"if you can't even point out what's gotten us here, then there's no point in arguing," begrudgingly, he lies back down.
he refuses to face you, the guilt, and the truth. still, he doesn't escape feeling the weight of it.
tobio rarely ever makes sense when it comes to stuff outside volleyball. between the two of you, if there was anyone deemed sensible and responsible between you two, it would definitely not be him. that's what everyone would usually say, but kageyama's got more to his brains than just volleyball, especially since you.
"nothing feels right."
tobio isn't sure if he understands or not. some part of him is saying that he feels the same way, that he knows how destructive how a single crack could be in the long run.
on the other hand, he's still figuring out what doesn't feel right, or how to even know if something's right or not.
uncertain and hesitant, he swallows the lump in his throat. "it'll pass."
every part of you is desperate for sleep, to the point that if it weren't for this, you'd be something close to peacefully dead.
you could let him have the last word, but his persistence to have this conversation and prove that he's right, moreover, that you don't have to go, doesn't dissipate even the slightest, and only intensifies by the minute.
"it's been months, tobio. months."
it's choking you both, but he doesn't back down. never when you're just one step away from the edge.
"and it'll let go of you if you hold on tighter."
despite the firm front he's put up, even he isn't sure if what he's saying is helping or not. tobio tries to imagine it in someone else's point of view, and he's certain that nobody understands what side he really is on.
"but what if this is the best i can do? kageyama, not everything's supposed to be held onto."
the silence envelopes the room a little longer than either of you liked, but nothing comes up to either of your minds to counter the truth.
the sun's already risen, but the thick curtains prevent light from seeping into the room, creating the illusion that it's still 3 am. that no time has passed since you decided to bring up whatever's on your mind, and in a way, it eases tobio.
even through the pain of it all, you're still beside him. he could reach out a few inches and he'd feel you next to him. he doesn't let fear and anger fester, but instead, tenderly holds empathy and understanding.
it's been 23 minutes since your last word, nearly 24 hours since you've both woken up, and yet neither of you fall asleep in the midst of the emptiness of the room.
tobio thinks, and sits back up. his face looks as if he just had some great epiphany, until he turns to you and sees your back facing him.
"are you saying that this isn't something worth holding onto?"
without facing him, you hold the pillow tighter and closer, and mumble, "it is worth something, but it's difficult when you're broken and bruised from everything else."
"then let this be what heals you."
the silence stays, but the sun peeks a little through the curtains, bringing even the slightest light into the room. though unfitting, tobio gazes at you softly, offering a kind, light smile.
"you're really..."
"cliche," he continues. "come on."
he helps you sit up facing him and pulls you into a warm embrace.
you let exhaustion take over, every thought since midnight disappearing into the fog inside your mind. for the first time in what doesn't seem like 9 months but really is, you finally find rest and peace.
maybe this moment will last for five minutes, five hours, but never continously forever. still, that doesn't mean that comfort is a one-time thing. at some point, you'll always find yourselves back at home, even after venturing out to who knows where for months.
he notices that you haven't been using the l-word, figuring that you don't because it's cliche. but tobio's shameless, and if you're not going to mention it, then he will, if it means preserving what you have, whether for a second more, or for ten years.
"as long as love's here, we'll work on us. don't let the past 4 years be for nothing."
tobio's used to losing, but he's never admitting defeat if it comes to fighting for you.
tobio leans by the door, two warm mugs in hand. the weather’s not that nice today. in fact there’s a storm, which explains why he’s not out at work late, like usual.
the weight under your eyes only gets heavier with time, and your fingers lay stiff on the keyboard. “nothing’s coming up.”
for a second, after that, you want to say, “actually, i’ve got something,” but you don’t. for a second, you get an idea of what to type on the blank document, seeing how his eyes could be so warm and tender despite being the darkest and coldest blue. how his usually tense and sharp physique melts into something more welcoming and slack. the gray sweater makes him look a lot smaller than he actually is, and it could be surprising with how large his build is and how everything fits him exactly or too tightly, but this supposedly rare sight to everyone else is just another saturday for both of you.
“don’t think of it too much,” he sits beside you, handing you your favorite warm drink, made just how you like it. “there’s still tomorrow, you know,” he leans in for a kiss on your temple, a hand on your back.
“well that’s something,” you turn to him and bury your face in his neck. “surprising to hear that from you, out of all people.”
he panics for a split second, until you breathe out, “i love it though.”
tobio lets out a sigh of relief, pulling you closer and shutting the laptop.
he thinks of love, a forever foreign force that he used to shut out of his life, terrified, only to beg for even just a second more of it when one or the other’s about to pull away, may it be away for weeks, or a few minutes.
then you think of love and luck.
love, because that’s all you’ve ever hoped for. this is all you’ve ever longed for, even if you forget it sometimes because he’s always there to offer and give you something better than this.
luck, because that’s what they’d say when they find out that the star they’re all dying to have and to hold is never out of your reach, even clinging onto you, letting you see all of him. even the ones that don’t seem like him to the public eye or his own family.
maybe you don’t have to wait tomorrow to fill in the blanks, because this is enough to give you an idea of what to write about love. still, that doesn’t mean you have to do it now either.
this moment may be just another saturday, and may not be more than a dot in the grand scheme of things, but it’s certainly not nothing.
friends to almost lovers is the one of the best tropes . its like . ur telling me to unlearn the one thing ive been taught . to stop doing the only thing that i know how to do best . telling me to stop loving u when thats all ive ever done my whole life . to stop doing something that's become more than a habit -- something that's become a part of me , second nature to me and comes so naturally and uncontrollably . to forget what's made me the happiest and saddest and feel the most ive ever felt . to forget the unforgettable . to unlove you when i've loved you my whole life is to kill my will to live
you learned this six months ago, on the first day of class, when he groggily replies that he wasn’t sleeping during the first period and was only “meditating”. his hair disheveled, eyes barely opened, and yawning as he spoke. it was the first time you’ve ever seen someone with that strong of a gut to lie when the dead give away in the first place was his own snore.
you remember as clear as daylight how his puppy eyes turned into a scowl when you agreed that he did, in fact, sleep during class when the adviser asked you, his seatmate, to confirm. you could cover for him, but there was no point in doing so when the facts were laid out in front. you would have only gotten into unnecessary trouble if you defended a guy you barely knew.
the scowl stayed until the last minute of the hour while he stood outside the room, arms aching from the two water-filled buckets he carried for 30 minutes straight.
you would have thought that look would stay permanent on his face, seeing how agitated he was and how deeply carved it was on his face, but later that day, atsumu would flash a charming smile here and there, let out a striking laugh every now and then, but then immediately frown upon the sight of you.
(atsumu curses you, and wishes that it was osamu in your place instead of you, but then he figures that it was best that his twin wasn’t with him. otherwise, it could’ve gone worse and he’d have to deal with the teasing days on end. so for now, as much as he hates you snitching on him, he’s glad that he doesn’t have to hear you making fun of him.)
(for now, at least.)
(you had hoped that he’d forgive you and he had sworn he never would, but three days later, he’s smiling at you like he’d been possessed by some kind spirit, telling—not asking—you to let bygones be bygones so that you would help him with his homework. it takes half an hour of exchanging quips for him to convince you.)
people would think he learned from that, but it’s obvious that he never did or ever will when he continues to lie to you six months later that fateful day.
“me? lying?” he gasps exaggeratedly, hand on his chest as if he’s been wrongly accused. “i would never! you’re the one lying to me, saying that i said that i like you while i was asleep!”
atsumu shakes his head with his eyes closed and arms folded, feigning distress. “how could you accuse me, the most honest man, of that! maybe you’re the one who has a crush on me,” he smirks, full of pride, like he wasn’t just playing victim moments ago.
so now you have to deal with the pretty prideful boy you’re going to sit next to for the next few years, the annoying kissy faces and whatever noises they make because of an accusation that held little to no evidence whatsoever.
and with just that, the tables turn and now you’re the one being teased. there was no way these people would believe him when he’s known for lying habitually, but then the thought that they’re suddenlt siding with him for the fun of it gives you a stomache ache.
you wish you could easily convince everyone in the room what the truth was, which was atsumu sleep-confessing to you while sleeping with an irritatingly (gorgeous) smile, but nobody stood or sat near enough to hear what he said.
or at least you hope there’s none, because atsumu may have told his lie, but he also told your truth.
it’s pointless trying to tell them to stop. not even your friends would quit talking about your little crush on him and even brought more fuel to the fire by mixing your and atsumu’s names together.
atsumu holds his nose high, a smug grin on his face that you want to punch so bad (and yet kiss so good at the same time, but you’re never going to tell him that because whatever forbid you to do so because his ego’s already inflated enough as it was).
you never thought this day would come, but alas, you had no choice other than to gather your courage and eat up the one fact you never thought you’d swallow.
“let’s say i do like you. what are you gonna do about it? i know it’s mutual because you’re the worst liar i’ve ever met, miya.”
1.
2.
3.
the crowd roars and the cheers resonate even in the halls, and you can barely hear the poor class president desperately trying to shut them all up to prevent anyone from getting in trouble, which ends as a failed attempt.
the air conditioner’s on high and directly blowing at you and atsumu, but you both look like you just went through the hottest summer ever.
eye contact with you never lasted longer than three seconds at a time, but it’s almost impossible to look away from atsumu’s embarrassed and lovestruck stare.
he doesn’t stare because of what you said, if anything that’s what makes him want to look away because he’s never been more flustered in his life, but he doesn’t because right now, to him, you’re the prettiest you’ve ever been.
you’ve always been pretty, hell, he hopes that soon you’ll quit saying he’s lying and that he’s saying things just for the sake of saying things or that he only says you are because he wants something from you, since atsumu may lie about a lot of things, but that’s one of the things he’ll never lie to you about.
you’ve always been pretty, but there’s a warm kind of glow that your honesty and forwardness offers that makes atsumu see you in a different light entirely.
(if all those times, what you meant by “get lost” was to get lost in your eyes, then atsumu wouldn’t mind hearing that for the rest of his life.)
atsumu doesn’t dare to take his eyes off of you, but he does so begrudgingly when the next moment everyone’s piped down and facing the board with their head hung low after what sounded like your adviser lashing out at the chaos.
atsumu’s mind runs foggy, the mad teacher’s words never reaching his ears. he forgets where he is and what he’s supposed to do, what’s even worse is that you’re sitting next to him and he can’t think straight.
he doesn’t understand what’s happening around him until it’s 30 minutes later and his arms begin to strain that he’s brought back to reality.
reality, as in, you two aren’t in a relationship. (yet.)
reality, as in, you two aren’t on a date. (for now.)
“i can’t believe that we’re the only ones doing this when they were the ones who made the noise,” you murmur.
reality, as in, you’re both outside and carrying water-filled buckets as a punishment, not as a date, and you two are insufferably aware of the other’s feelings and are still not dating which makes his life more of a living hell where yearning is an inescapable fate. (kind of.)
(“i could become a writer,” he muses at his own thought.)
atsumu blinks. “i mean, you did start it. you made fun of me first for that dream.”
atsumu doesn’t get fazed when you glare at him. instead, it only makes him want to tease you more. masochistic as it may be, he’s always found it entertaining, even cute, when you’re upset over these kinds of matters.
(he wonders how much better or worse it’ll get once you actually get serious.)
“whose side are you even on here?” you huff in disbelief. “i’m going to kick you when this is done.”
a cheeky smile peeks at you, atsumu’s cheeks glow a bright red, his ears burn too.
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