[akimind]

unexpected. 

a/n: to the people who follow me – sorry i post once a month then provide nothing for weeks. here’s some word vomit as recompense T^T

genre: angst

word count: 16.7k+

[ atsumu x reader ]

–––––

Everyone deserves a chance, right?

The only thing you could focus on was just barely keeping your head up, just enough to watch him leave you behind.

So why are you walking away from me?

All anything ever took was one chance. All you wanted was one chance. It didn’t have to be a big one – you would have taken anything he was willing to give you.

But that’s not the sort of person he was, and you knew it. He was much too kind for that. Atsumu didn’t hand out chances where they wouldn’t matter because he didn’t believe in giving false hope, and you knew that was one of the reasons this was happening to you. In some form, maybe this was just his way of trying to protect you.

But if that’s what it was, how come all it was doing was hurting you?

So, so much?

Because his kindness isn’t the only reason.

You finally hung your head at your own thoughts as you wrapped your arms around yourself and folded in towards your chest. Your quiet crying was the only thing filling your mind against the fluttering of lonely winter leaves falling down from overhead.

...The other reason is me.

–––––––

Ever since you were little, the only thing you wanted was to be Atsumu’s favorite person. If he asked you to be on his side when he argued with Osamu, you would. If he asked you to give him the last piece of his favorite food that you were eating, you would. When he asked if he could switch the TV to his favorite cartoon while you were watching yours, you said yes. Anything Atsumu asked of you, you did happily. You were just a kid, after all. A little girl who only wanted the boy she liked to like her back.

Atsumu was all you could remember seeing when you were with him. Sometimes it seemed like you’d been in love with him for your entire life, and you couldn’t even remember when it began. No matter how far back you tried to reach in your memories, you couldn’t find a time when you didn’t love him.

The strings tying you to the Miya twins stretched long before any of you were born. Their parents and yours had been close friends for years before their marriages, so the twins had been your best friends since before you could even walk. You spent your entire life knowing them, your mothers laughing in old photographs while they simultaneously fed the three of you as babies.

It was fun growing up together. It felt like having two families and your parents always slipped back into their youthful humor when they were together, giving you and the twins more freedom for mischief. You always became a little rascal when the twins were around to get in trouble with you, although the subsequent scoldings you got weren’t as fun as the pranks you all pulled. But the three of you usually recovered pretty quickly and would find another reason to act like devils all over again.

Their house was just as much your home as yours was theirs. If anything, you had more memories at their house than you did in your own. Their parents were practically yours, and all of you shared everything. It was like the three of you were soulmates and you never needed anyone else. As long as you had the twins by your side, you could take on the world with them – or take over it, depending on the day.

One of your favorite memories was walking to their house every Saturday morning to watch your favorite cartoons. Your TV didn’t have the channels for them, so it made their house even more fun compared to yours. The day would start with you knocking to be let in through their back door, then each of you pouring your favorite cereal at the table and leaning to peer over the kitchen island at the TV screen while your breakfast grew soggy.

As you grew up, the memories started to become more scattered. It wasn’t just the three of you in your own little world anymore. School became the main place you saw each other, and the two of them began to branch out. You made a few of your own friends, too. There was no way you were on the social level of the twins, but it wasn’t like you were a hermit.

It was nice having some girl friends to relate with for once, and it was because of them you started to understand your own perspective better. They taught you things like how to spit out comebacks, how to read body language and tone of voice, and how to get a boy’s attention. They taught you what liking someone meant and what relationships were, and it was around that point that things began to change.

Among the changes, only a few things stayed as they were. The twins were the same – arguing, opposite, yet somehow still the same. You still attended the same school together, they still played volleyball, and you still watched their matches. You still went to their house, just not as often as you used to before. They still talked to you every day, just not always in person because you weren’t in their class. You still saw each other every day, even if it was only from a distance. You’d walk the halls and see them at the opposite end or glance out the window in class and see them on the sports field outside.

Little by little, changes in your familiar world began to gradually build up. You brushed them off each time you noticed a new one, accepting them as the normalcy that came with growing up, and ignored the vague sense of hesitancy that always seemed to knock on the back of your mind.

Just like the twins, some things about you stayed the same. One thing was that you still considered them your best friends, even with the subtle, growing distance between you. Nothing had shifted much in your friendship with Osamu but you felt the space between you and Atsumu, and that tilted the balance between the three of you. It was that unbalance that strained your tolerance for the one thing you’d always hated and still had the same uneasiness about – change.

It was more of a stubbornness, really. You always liked sticking to what you knew and felt iffy making adjustments. You hated when last-minute changes to plans were fumbled together, new essay formats were given just as you’d gotten used to writing in the previous style, or restaurants, gods forbid, altered or completely removed your favorite order from their menus.

The worst change of all, though, was watching Atsumu drift away from you.

Stubbornness and sentimentality were not a good combination. You were blessed in the most cursed way to have both, so it wasn’t all that surprising to you that a heavy feeling began to clench at your heart every time you passed Atsumu and he didn’t say hi to you, or when a classmate asked you something about him that you didn’t know the answer to, or when you saw him talking to a girl who was his latest interest.

As someone who only ever wanted to be noticed by Atsumu, you had to admit it had its bad sides. Loving Atsumu was neither your choice nor something you could control when it flared, and the aching in your chest slowly became a more constant friend you grew familiar with as it only deepened and hollowed you out more than you wished it would.

There were days you wished it wasn’t there. You wished you didn’t love him, that you only saw him as the same boy who ran around flicking paint on the walls with you and Osamu. Innocent, everyday antics without you reading so much into them, without holding him so closely to your heart because that was a dangerous thing to do – it only made you so much more vulnerable to him. That’s what you wanted. Freedom. Release.

At the same time, though, your dread of change kept you clinging to your ever-present feelings. Loving Atsumu, despite its pain, was all you knew. You loved being in love with him. As much as it pitted you against yourself, you couldn’t find it in you to stop, and you didn’t want to.

If you were honest with yourself, the real reason you dreaded change was because you dreaded losing him. You dreaded he’d tear apart all the love you held for him if you told him the truth of how you felt. If you told him, it could shatter everything.

So you accepted it. Just as you accepted the changes in your childhood world, you accepted that nothing would come from Atsumu’s feelings towards you because he probably – no, definitely – had none. At least not in the way you wanted him to.

You never allowed yourself to seriously believe that one day he’d love you back. Your mind always stopped you short when you steered into that delusional dead-end. Despite the happy indulgence in your heart whenever he came to mind, there was no long-term gratification in being so hopelessly in love with someone the way you were. The least you could do was lessen the daily reminders of the impossibility of your pining by avoiding him as much as you could.

Slowly, over time, you became more and more withdrawn around Atsumu to the point where the two of you only vaguely knew what the other was up to anymore. It was such a stark difference compared to when you used to know every little detail about each other. But even though you hated it, you kept it up, even when you realized you had probably become more of the same to Atsumu now. He probably saw you as just another person he went to school with, someone he saw in passing and only used to hang out with as a kid years ago.

Just another girl like everyone else. And you let it stay that way.

Funny how someone who hated change could be so willing to live with an upset balance like that.

Hypocrite, you ridiculed yourself now, glancing out the window from your seat in class. Your eyes landed by chance on Atsumu walking and laughing with a girl you didn’t recognize.

The two of them were taking a lap on the track around the sports field, their breaths coming out in wisps just barely visible to your eyes. Atsumu had a scarf around his neck and kept rubbing at his nose, and you could tell just from that tick that he was probably about to sneeze.

Idiot never wears enough layers, you thought, bored. Getting sick is on him.

Realizing what you thought, you shook your head and tried to ignore the subconscious way your mind always seemed to center around him. Even when you didn’t mean it, you were always thinking of his well-being. It irked you, more so when you found out people could tell just by watching you look at him.

Osamu was the first to admit he knew about your feelings for Atsumu. It was one of those nights just sitting on the edge of his front steps, eating dessert and playing off each other’s memories, a game you loved so much.

“I’ve kind of always known. I think we all did,” Osamu had said when you’d gaped at him. The topic had come up while you’d been discussing current and past crushes and who was the cutest among them, something you’d never really talked about in-depth before. It was just another one of those things that was changing between you two.

You never explicitly said Atsumu’s name at the time, but you didn’t need to. Osamu did it for you when he’d said, “You liked Atsumu. I know you did.” You never could lie to Osamu – another thing that would never change – so you had no choice but to accept your secret that had never been spoken out loud, your truth that he’d laid out so easily...Osamu had always been able to pick you apart like that.

“Does everyone know?” you’d demanded in a panic, wondering if his and your parents still thought you were in love with Atsumu. Not that you weren’t, but still. “Did Atsumu know?”

Osamu had shrugged, seeming disinterested as ever and answering, “Probably. He never mentioned it but it was pretty obvious to everyone, Y/n. I’m sure even Tsumu was aware of it, which is saying something. You were always clinging to him and said everything he did was really good or really cool, and you gave him everything and copied him all the time. All the time! You even sided with him against me sometimes.” His eyes had narrowed in mock pettiness then, making you brace yourself. “You were a real sucker for him, Y/n. Always leaving me behind as the third wheel.”

You hadn’t been able to come up with a valid defense to that, sputtering repeated apologies and offering to make up for it with food the next day, all the while denying that you still felt so attached to Atsumu.

Yet here you were, gazing longingly out the window and wishing you could stand as close to him as you used to be, wishing you could make him smile more than anyone else could and be his favorite person in the world the way he was always yours.

If only he saw you as someone worthy enough to even give that chance to.

–––––––

Everything was opposite when it came to the twins. If you had to describe them in just one way, you couldn’t – it always had to be two.

Osamu was the epitome of water. He was the quieter one, the polite one, the one who always gave you the last of the popsicles and helped you with homework, your most trusted friend and anchor. He was the one you deferred to for important decisions or, when you were bored, just probed with random questions about life and the universe. Osamu was the one who cooked any meal asked of him and knew just how to make you feel better by making you a plateful of it.

Atsumu, on the other hand, was the hotheaded one. He was the antagonizing one, the emotional one, the one who yelled at the television and argued with anyone who challenged him, and he never stopped pestering when he wanted something. He cried at kind gestures and jumped on your back when he was excited, sometimes knocking you to the floor and getting back up to race around because his energy just couldn’t be contained. Atsumu was the ball of fire that, no matter how annoyingly it tried to burn you whenever you came close, you never wanted to think of being put out.

As exhilarating as that could be, though, no one sane wanted to take their chances with fire, but water could always be reasoned with. It was a balance between the two, and that’s how the twins were. It shocked you sometimes that people didn’t always see them that way, viewing them as leveled soil on flattened, prairie grass. But then again, most people tended not to see past what their eyes gave them.

“Hi, Atsumu!”

“Osamu, how’s your day?”

“Did you see Atsumu? He just waved at me!”

“Here’s the pencil you lent me yesterday, Osamu!”

It was a constant thing you heard every day. Everyone in school knew who they were. Boys wanted to be their friends. Girls always liked them; it was a well-known fact but didn’t make you any more comfortable hearing them talk as if the twins were a packaged product.

“Those Miya twins...just being near them is like a dream!”

“Which one, though?”

“Either! It doesn’t matter to me!”

Atsumu and Osamu weren’t always seen as separate people. You supposed it was because no one really saw one without the other, and you secretly liked having that little knowledge about their true dynamics kept to yourself.

But as opposite as they were, you knew they cared about each other. You didn’t have enough fingers to count the times Osamu would bring food to a sick Atsumu who lay pouting in bed, or when Atsumu would refuse to leave the house when Osamu was ill. When you were the one who got sick, the two of them would take turns visiting and sitting with you to tell you about the “outside world” as if you were under isolation precautions, making sure not to argue because they didn’t want to make you feel any crappier than you already did. 

They could be obnoxious when they wanted to be, but they had two of the purest hearts you’d ever known. You could almost believe it was inevitable you’d fall in love with one of them someday.

Almost.

Normal friends didn’t fall in love with each other, though...right? Especially not ones who grew up so close they were like family. Besides, why was it only Atsumu? Where was the line drawn separating Osamu on the side of best friends and Atsumu on the edge as the one you’d dive over for?

These dizzying thoughts swirled round and round in your head as you put your forehead on the cafeteria table, letting out a groan.

“That wasn’t a pleasant sound.”

You peeked out from the crook of your elbow at Osamu, who was slurping his drink through a straw and looking down at you.

“I don’t feel very pleasant,” you grumbled.

“Why’s that?”

Ha. As if I can tell you. Even though he knew how you’d humanly glued yourself to Atsumu before, you still kept up the pretense that that wasn’t the case anymore. Your only hope was that he bought into it.

“Just tired,” you said.

“Maybe if you stopped sleeping at three in the morning, you wouldn’t be.”  Typical Osamu. He always knew where to hit you, you had to give him that.

With nothing to argue against him, you rested your cheek against your palm. “Tell me how the heck you can sleep before midnight.”

Osamu shrugged. “Tsumu doesn’t like having the lights on too late, so I don’t really have a choice.”

“Another thing. I don’t understand how he keeps such higher grades when he barely studies. He took the talent and the brains–”

Osamu punched your arm.

“Ow!”

“Say that again.”

“Kidding,” you said with a laugh, rubbing your shoulder.

“Speaking of which,” he said, glancing over the top of your head, “there’s Tsumu.”

You tensed and internally scoffed at yourself for having such an instinctual reaction at just the sound of his name. Lately, it seemed as if your senses were heightened whenever Atsumu came up. You didn’t like it, partly because it caught you off guard. But you especially didn’t like it because it was starting to get annoying – your feelings, not him.

Well, maybe it was him a little bit.

“Trapped again,” you said quietly, looking back at him stopped at a table full of girls who were all pushed to the side nearest him, leaning against each other to inch closer as he spoke, their eyes enraptured and mouths spread into pretty, doll-like smiles. You watched Atsumu laugh and say something that made them giggle like a pack of air-headed fairies, then turned back to your lunch.

“Problem?” said Osamu. There was a knowing tone in his voice that you chose strongly to ignore.

“No.”

“Sure.”

“There’s not, Samu,” you insisted. “It’s just the usual him basking in the spotlight.” You rolled your eyes and took a bite of food.

“You’re not wrong,” Osamu said, shaking his head. “That’s our Tsumu.”

Our Tsumu. His words rang through your head as you frowned at your lap, not wanting to show how you felt such a flare of annoyance – not towards either of them, but at yourself.

How could any of your feelings not be annoying? You hated how you couldn’t just handle them like a regular person. What kind of person harbors feelings so deep for over a decade and treats them like a lifeline? Not the kind that had any right to feel jealous, that was for sure...especially because you never did anything about them except argue with yourself over failing to wish them away.

You just wanted to go about your day without being so attentive to Atsumu, to have the same dynamic back when you and Osamu would make fun of him so much he’d yell right back and spray his water gun in your faces without you thinking twice about it. You wanted a day without reading into every playful shove he gave you, or automatically burning a mental image of his stupidly adorable pouts in your brain like you were some lovesick softie for every move he made.

You hated yourself for being so easily tangled up by him as if you were just like the rest of those girls who ogled up from their tables, giggling at any word he said and offering presents like he was a god-tier altar when in reality, you knew he was just the simple, same old, full-hearted Atsumu who still somehow had you glued to the palm of his hand.

You hated it. You absolutely hated it.

But no matter how much you hated it, you never loved him any less. How could you? He was Atsumu. One of your best friends, your first love and, from the way you were feeling lately, probably the only boy you’d ever love for the rest of your life.

That night, just like every other night as you tried to finish your assignments and go to sleep early for once, every fiber in your being flipped itself over and wished for nothing but Atsumu to return your feelings. It was an empty wish every time, and you knew that. It was the most frustrating yearning you’d ever felt, and you didn’t know why it kept persisting for so long. You barely even hung out with Atsumu anymore, far less than you did with Osamu.

Atsumu didn’t give you any more thought than he did to anyone else; he never had. Even as kids, he only wanted you as his sidekick to win arguments or play tricks. You were as far as the next galaxy over from being the only person in the world whom he’d care about, so how come he got to be the only person you could ever think about? Why was he the only one who made your heart skip a beat or make you want to cry whenever he liked someone new because of how much you loved him? Why did you have to love someone you didn’t want to love, someone who gave back feelings that were everything except the ones you’d been wanting from him since the day you first realized he was your favorite person in the world?

It wasn’t fair.

Loving Atsumu...just wasn’t fair.

Everything around him, including you, he took over. That’s who he was – the ball of fire you knew him to be. And nothing was fair when it came to fire.

When you started wishing you didn’t love him, you wondered if you were just tired of wanting two very different things at the same time – wanting him, and wanting to stop wanting him. Maybe it wasn’t actually him you hated, or even the fact that you were in love with him. Maybe the biggest part of it was you knew full well that he would never feel the same, and you just hated how much that hurt.

But even though you kicked yourself for not being able to simply give him up, no matter how much you refused to admit that it hurt, you knew, deep down, there would never be anyone else you would rather break your heart for other than him...over, and over, and over again.

–––––––

Right before winter vacation, the twins’ and your parents decided to go on a last-minute trip to Tokyo to spend Christmas and New Year’s there. Normally, you would have begged them to take you since you loved going to the city, but your incessant feelings for Atsumu had put you in such a slump that you were grateful to have the house to yourself for a while. You needed an emotional detox and wanted some lazy days alone to sink in your thoughts.

When the holiday break began, you spent the first couple days sleeping in, lounging around, and catching up on old shows and books with absolutely no agenda in mind. It was relaxing to power your battery back up, and you didn’t allow yourself to think about Atsumu the entire time.

At least not yet.

You and the twins already knew you’d be spending Christmas together, not only because your parents were out of town, but because it was a long-standing tradition between your families to alternate whose house to celebrate at each year, and this year was their turn to host.

There wasn’t much to host, though, since it would just be the three of you. But you still walked over on Christmas Eve with an armful of snacks and their presents in hand. You knew Osamu would be the one covering most of the food, and your mouth started to water at the thought of eating. Whenever Osamu was cooking, you made sure to save your appetite the entire day.

When you got to their house, Atsumu answered the door almost immediately.

“Giving up already?” you asked as he let you inside.

He was sucking on candy with a full pout on his lips. Atsumu was always the most impatient while waiting for food to be ready; he usually snacked on something to relieve his “dying” hunger, but it was a little early for him to throw in the towel.

“Samu wouldn’t let me eat all day because he said I’d be too full for dinner,” he muttered. “So this is what’s holding me over until then.”

You gave him a look of mock concern. “That sounds very difficult, Tsumu.”

“It is.”

“Stop being dramatic,” yelled Osamu, who peered around the corner from the direction of the kitchen. He was wearing an apron and stirring something in a bowl with a whisk. “If you’re so desperate to eat, come help and maybe you can taste test some of it instead of running your mouth.”

Atsumu groaned and you followed his sulking figure to the kitchen, making sure to drop your presents beside the Christmas tree in the living room on the way. 

Placing Atsumu’s gift down, you lingered for a second and bit your lip. As much as you were trying to distance yourself from him lately, you still hoped he would like his present. You hoped it would mean something since you picked it based on memories from your childhood. You didn’t know if the current Atsumu still cared about those same memories as much as you did, so it was a hit-or-miss decision to buy it but you couldn’t resist since it reminded you so much of him.

“Y/n!” Atsumu whined from the kitchen. He sounded distressed.

“Coming!” You stood up and smiled at his present one more time before going to the kitchen.

“Finally,” Osamu said, exasperated when you walked in. “Will you help him?”

You turned to Atsumu, who was struggling to slice something on the cutting board. The candy was sticking out of his mouth and he was grumbling to himself, gripping the knife so hard his knuckles were turning white.

You set the food you brought on the counter and sighed as you went to fix his chopping method, which he immediately denied needed any correcting.

A few hours later, everything was set up and the three of you sat at the table with your plates piled high with food. Atsumu was chewing happily and in a much better mood now, talking your ears off as he rambled on endlessly. You could tell Osamu was only half-listening since he kept smiling and frowning to himself whenever he put a bite into his mouth; it was obvious he was thinking more about the food he’d made and was probably working out ways to change the recipes in his head.

When you were all finished eating, you washed the dishes as was customary. Since Osamu cooked, he was free to relax. You knew Atsumu would only complain about doing the dishes, so you gave him the minimal job of cleaning the table and putting the leftovers away. After you finished rinsing, you went to the living room, where the twins were sitting by the Christmas tree and fighting over the TV remote.

You looked at them tiredly for a second then smiled to yourself. It was a warmly nostalgic scene, one you were so used to seeing. The only things missing were your parents, but you were still thankful to be with the twins for the holiday. Even if things were changing and would keep doing so between the three of you, there were still moments like these that you knew would never change, at least not anytime soon...and you held onto that fact even tighter than before as you took a seat next to them.

“Do you guys want to open presents?” you asked, hoping to distract them.

Atsumu’s eyes brightened at the same time Osamu raised his eyebrows. Osamu let go of the remote they were both pulling on, sending Atsumu toppling backwards with a yelp.

“Is this from you?” Osamu asked, picking up your gift for him like he hadn’t just forced Atsumu into a backwards somersault.

You beamed and nodded.

Osamu examined the small box and turned it over in his hands. “The wrapping on this...is kind of....”

Your smile fell and you gave him a deadpan look. “Shut it, Osamu. I did it last-minute. Would you just open it already?”

He laughed and undid the string tied in a bow.

Behind him, Atsumu was looking at the gift you placed for him. He looked up at you with a smile.

“This one’s mine, right?” he asked excitedly.

You raised an eyebrow and sat back on your hands. “Did you see the tag on it?”

“Yeah!”

“Then you can read if it is or not.”

Atsumu’s jaw fell and he cradled the present in his hands. “You and Samu are the devil’s spawn!” he yelled. “So mean. And it’s Christmas Eve, too.” He huffed and quickly started unwrapping his box, and you tried to remain casual as you eagerly watched them open their gifts.

Osamu held up the new ring of kitchen tools with a pair of onigiri carved into the wooden handle of each of them. “Y/n, where did you find these?” he asked with wide eyes.

“My secret Christmas shopping source,” you said proudly. “Aren’t they cute?”

“I’m gonna use these from now on,” Osamu said with a big grin, examining each utensil one by one. “Thank you!” He reached under the tree and grabbed a gift bag. “This one’s for you, from me.”

You took the bag and kept it in your hands as you waited for Atsumu to finish opening his gift first. You watched his face carefully to see what his expression would be when he finally saw it.

“...Y/n,” Atsumu said.

You held your breath, ready to cringe at yourself and curse the stupid reason you had for buying him such a useless–

“I love this.” Atsumu was looking down and slowly discarded the rest of the wrapping paper. His eyes grew big and his lips parted as he stared at the smiling face of the stuffed plushie shaped like a little fatty tuna.

“Really?” Your voice sounded so hopeful and you hesitantly began to break into a smile.

Atsumu looked at you over the plushie and beamed so hard your chest tightened at his happiness. “Are you kidding?” he cried. “I love this!” He squeezed his fingers into the tuna and held it against his chest, looking down at its face. “I didn’t think I’d want something like this until now!”

A breath of relief escaped you and your shoulders loosened up as you watched him pinch the cheeks of the tuna. You knew it was one of his favorite foods. The minute you saw that plushie, Atsumu’s face had popped into your mind. Even though he never admitted it, he’d always liked cute things when you were little. You didn’t know if he still did, and maybe a plushie was too childish for him now, but this one just screamed Atsumu to you. How could you not have bought it for him? Seeing the look on his face now, you were so glad you did.

"Open yours,” Osamu said to you. He nodded at the gift in your lap.

You started undoing the wrapping of your present while Atsumu was still swooning over his tuna plushie. His happy little noises were making your heart silently swell with love. As he got over his excitement and shifted his attention to watch you open your gift, your face split into another smile.

Inside the bag from Osamu was a package of prints from your favorite artists. Each of them were different, ranging from hand-drawn portraits of your favorite characters to watercolor paintings of your favorite scenes from shows and movies. Some of them were small, simple sketches, and everything was so beautiful you almost squealed.

“How did you know I wanted all of these?” you asked him softly. “I love them so much! Thank you, Samu!”

He shrugged and smiled. “You always talk about wanting to order things to support those artists you like so much. It was so obvious what to get you.”

You laughed and kept staring at the art pieces in your hands, plotting where to hang them in your room when you got home. “Thank you, Samu,” you said again.

Before you could even reshuffle the prints into a neat pile and place them safely back in the bag, another present was thrusted into your lap. You looked up to see Atsumu hurriedly trying to give you another gift.

“Here,” he said, still clutching the tuna plushie close to his body with one arm. “Open my gift for you. I worked harder trying to find it than Samu did.”

Osamu glared at him and said in a flat tone, “Really, Tsumu?”

“Really.”

You took your gift from Atsumu and wondered what could possibly fit inside such a tiny box. You wondered even more about how he managed to wrap it so nicely when it was so small; Atsumu wasn’t usually one for arts and crafts, so you half-expected to get something wrapped in newspaper from him. Or without any wrapping at all.

Your eyes carefully read over the sticker that said To: Y/n! From: Tsumu. There was a winking smiley face next to his name and you laughed to yourself at the adorable drawing. Maybe it wasn’t much – just a quick scribble he put without even thinking of it – but to you, it was another one of the most endearing things about him that made your insides bubble up. Slowly, you began to peel off the wrapping paper, making sure not to let the box slip from your hands.

It was made of some sort of thick cardboard, dark blue and with a lid over the top. You carefully shuffled it off to look inside the hollow space, angling it so you could see better with the light.

When you realized what was inside the box, your smile disappeared. Your mouth fell open and you placed one hand over it in quiet surprise, your eyes widening at the sight.

Nestled on a small cushion and encased by the velvet lining inside the box sat a single glass-blown butterfly. It was blue and turquoise with swirls of white and sparkly flecks spattered everywhere, fading to a tinge of deep bluish-black near the bottom of the body. The wings were made of all different colors behind the white swirls. Seeped into the glass of the wings were shades of blue, yellow and green on the top, blending into pink, red and purple towards the bottom and creating a symmetrical explosion of color that you held so gently in your palms.

“Atsumu,” you breathed, eyebrows coming together in disbelief as you peered at all the careful details close-up. “How...when...?”

“I told you,” he said proudly, leaning his chin into his plushie. “It was a pain to find one that looked as much like your old one, but I finally did.”

“What is it?” asked Osamu, leaning over to look closer with you.

"It’s a butterfly, stupid,” Atsumu said bluntly.

Your mouth turned up a little at his trademark straightforwardness. Maybe to Atsumu, it simply was just a butterfly – a tiny figure with wings melded together into a random shape of glass. But to you, it meant so much more. You couldn’t believe what you were holding in your hand as one thought kept running through your mind, trying to deliver the full impact of what he’d just given you as if you even forgot about it in the first place...and to be honest, you almost kind of did.

He remembered.

You couldn’t believe that Atsumu remembered.

–––––––

You and the twins were nine years old. It was the middle of summer, and you were at a campground a few hours from home that your families often went to for weekend trips. It was an outing that happened multiple times each summer, and this was the first one of the season.

There was an endless amount of things you loved about the camping trip. Wandering the woods and finding hidden trails and ravines, going to the park and spinning on the tire swing until you got nauseous, trying to jump over the tides in the wave pool at the water park, playing frisbee in any of the open fields until sunset and getting piggyback rides from the twins on the walk back to your site.

A lot of your childhood milestones happened during one camping trip or another. It was where you scored your first hole-in-one on the miniature golf course, caught your first fish after spending hours on the dock, and learned to ride a two-wheeler bike for the first time in your life – you weren’t allowed to roast marshmallows with the twins until you rode a certain distance without falling off, and it became a fond memory to look back on as you grew up. All your summer memories at the campground were so, so precious to you.

But among all the things you loved about the summer trip, your favorite one by far was the art cabin. It was a small center for ceramic painting and glass-blowing near the edge of the river, far enough from your usual campsite that you and the twins had to bike or else your legs would collapse. Sometimes you would all buy pottery sculptures and paint on them, but the thing you loved most was simply looking at the glass-blown figures.

You always wanted to collect them because they were so tiny and cute. You knew you could fit a handful in your pocket if you could buy as many as you wanted, but you only managed to get a few of them over the years. Going to the art cabin wasn’t something you did every year, partly because it was so out of the way and partly because you were usually the only one who wanted to go. This year, though, the twins were in a rare mood to go with you.

It was early afternoon when you parked your bikes outside the art cabin. You were already starting to feel the summer heat, your shirt sticking uncomfortably to the skin on your back. When you walked inside, a blast of cool air hit and you all let out a sigh of relief.

You stepped up to the counter and looked at the different figures displayed in the glass case. They ranged in prices depending on their size and the three of you only had enough money to each buy one of the smallest. Your eye caught on a mermaid sitting on a rock, her red tail curled against the blue waves that formed the base. You glanced down at the price and your shoulders slumped; she was one of the medium sizes.

Atsumu tapped on your shoulder. “Let’s look at the smaller ones,” he said, pulling you to the end of the counter.

You followed him dejectedly and kept frowning as you searched for one you liked among the small sizes. None of them seemed to grab your attention the way the mermaid did – not that you were looking very hard. Your heart was settled on that mermaid and you weren’t really interested in anything less.

“Y/n, look at that one,” Atsumu said. He grabbed your elbow to lean down with him as he knelt on the floor with one palm against the glass, then pointed towards the back row of the figures. “Second to last from the end. The butterfly. See it?”

Scrunching up your eyebrows, you craned your neck to find it. The minute you saw what he was seeing, the frown fell from your face and your eyes widened.

It was so pretty. Your favorite color was blue and the butterfly was all different shades of it. The way the blues blended reminded you of the watercolors you liked to use at home. You pressed your palms next to Atsumu’s against the casing, leaning forward so close your breath fogged the glass.

“And what are we looking for down there?”

You snapped your head up to see the elderly man who you knew ran the cabin. You stood up to face him and pointed towards the bottom shelves. “Can I see the butterfly?” you asked.

He smiled warmly and bent behind the counter to slide open the casing, and you watched with awe as he took the butterfly and placed it on the counter in front of you. You were almost afraid to touch it. It looked so fragile – beautiful, but fragile.

Noticing the way you squirmed with your arms at your sides, the man laughed. “Go on, you can hold it,” he said, pushing it towards you. “I made all of these myself. Just because they’re glass doesn’t mean they’ll break if you touch them.”

You hesitantly took the butterfly and set it in one palm flat, bringing it up within centimeters of your eyes. It was so pretty that you couldn’t even remember what figure you were looking at before this one.

“Just get it already, Y/n,” Atsumu groaned. “Don’t just keep staring at it.” He was standing next to you and leaning on his arms on top of the casing, a bored look on his face before he turned to the man and asked, “Can I have the fish?”

You nodded at Osamu, who apparently was just waiting on the two of you as he held a little glass onigiri in his palm. He pulled the money from his pocket and handed it to the man, who thanked the three of you and wished you a good day.

On the bike ride back to your campsite, you were pedaling beside Atsumu. Osamu was leading the way since he was the only one who never got lost around the park. You reached an arm out to poke Atsumu’s side.

“Thanks for showing me the butterfly,” you told him.

He grinned. “I knew you’d like that one!” he said. “You looked like a butterfly when you saw it.”

“Huh?”

“Because butterflies change from those weird cocoons and then they grow wings and look all cool.”

“So which one am I? The weird part or the cool part?”

“Both.”

“Atsumu!” You tried to punch him with one arm without losing your balance, but he dodged it easily.

“I mean, you were all” – he twisted his face into mock sadness – “when you were looking at that mermaid thing,” he whined. “You were all slumpy, it reminded me of a cocoon. Then we saw the butterfly and you weren’t slumpy anymore, so you looked like a butterfly. You know, when they’re happy and get to fly out? So I just told you to get it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for more explanation.

“And I was getting bored. I wanna go swimming.”

“See, you just wanted to leave. I knew it.”

“But you still got something, and thanks to me! Now it’s my turn to pick what we do and I wanna go to the water park!”

You frowned at him and pedaled ahead so you were beside Osamu, leaving Atsumu to complain loudly behind you.

“Y/n,” he yelled, “you’re the one who wanted to go there in the first place! See, you’re just like those dumb butterflies that change all the time! You were so happy I showed it to you and now you’re mad at me! At least I changed your mind so you wouldn’t buy that ugly mermaid one!”

You looked back and stuck your tongue out at him, which made his mouth fall open as he sputtered in protest. You turned back around and shared a look with Osamu, who laughed along with you.

You smiled to yourself. Atsumu was right, though. You really did like the butterfly he showed you. You liked it so much you kept it displayed on your bedside table at home so you could see it every night and morning. You liked it so much you wiped it down when it started to get dusty. You liked it so much you cried a few months later when you accidentally swung your feet off the head of your bed and knocked the butterfly into the wall, so hard that one wing completely snapped off.

You were sad when it broke because to you, that butterfly was basically a reminder of Atsumu. It was a reminder of when he compared you to it; sure, he said you were the weird cocoon part – it was Atsumu, after all – but he also said you were the cool wings part...and you thought the wings of that butterfly were the prettiest parts of it, so you wondered if that meant Atsumu thought you were pretty, too. The logic was way beyond more than a stretch, but you were a kid with a wild imagination. Even the widest stretch seemed like nothing more than attainable possibility in your mind – and the possibility that the boy you were in love with thought you were pretty? Well, what girl wouldn’t want to think about that?

You always planned on getting another butterfly the next time you went to the art cabin, but after that first trip of the summer and during all the years after, the elderly man who ran the shop retired and took all his glass-blown figures with him. A new artist ran the cabin and their works were nice, but you never felt like buying any of them. It wasn’t anything against them – their figures just weren’t quite like the pretty butterfly you wanted that made you feel like you were pretty, too.

–––––––

It was only right the twins’ favorite seasons were opposite.

Winter was never Atsumu’s forte. He caught colds easily while Osamu remained in relatively perfect health for that entire part of the year. It was the one season when Atsumu felt inferior to Osamu, and he always made sure his misery was known to everyone whether they wanted to hear it or not.

You didn’t mind winter. The cold weather brought with it the excuse to wear cozy sweaters and boots, bundle up in hats and scarves, and eat comfort foods like soup and warm cookies straight from the oven. You didn’t mind the snow, either. It was pretty when it fell. You were always happy to look out your window in the morning to see a fresh layer of white blanketing the earth.

On the morning of New Year’s Eve, you woke up to the snow you loved so much. You went into the kitchen to make a cup of hot chocolate and thought about how to spend the day. New Year’s was another holiday you usually spent with the twins and their family, but none of you had talked about making any plans since Christmas.

You decided to spend the day reorganizing your room, thinking you might as well start off a new year in some sort of order. As you cleaned, you glanced every now and then at the new little butterfly sitting in full view on your desk and smiling to yourself every time it caught your eye.

The small TV in your room was on but there was nothing good except for talk shows of people raving about New Year’s resolutions, making you want to come up with yours.

I want to try to stop loving Atsumu so much.

It was the same resolution you gave to yourself every year. The key word in it was “try.” You never seemed to try hard enough because you always found yourself slipping even more in love with him by the time the year ended.

And now that he’d given you this Christmas gift? You really didn’t know if you could even believe in that resolution enough to make it anymore.

Throughout the day, you tried to come up with a new one but your mind kept turning around and right back to Atsumu. There had never been anything you wished for when it came to Atsumu except to stop loving him or for him to love you back. Even though you wanted to change your resolution towards him, you didn’t know what else to turn it into.

“Ugh,” you groaned to yourself. Why did your resolution even have to be about him? Could you really not think of anything else you wanted this year?

Your mind seemed to cackle when it answered back, Nope.

When evening settled in, you decided to head over to the twins’ house again. You knew they probably had nothing planned since they usually spent it with your family anyway. Besides, Osamu would probably be making something for dinner in addition to the Christmas leftovers since Atsumu always whined about something fresh on the table for each holiday, and nothing sounded better than Osamu’s cooking as a way to start the new year. You texted him a heads up that you were going to come over, but he still hadn’t replied by the time you slipped out your door.

–––––––

“Samu?” You waited for a response from inside their front door that you’d unlocked with your spare key, but none came. The house was silent as you slipped your shoes off and made your way to the twins’ bedroom, passing the empty living room on the way.

Suddenly, your phone began to ring and you almost dropped it as you jumped from the noise. “Hello?” you asked, trying to calm your heart down.

“Hey,” Osamu answered, “sorry, I’m visiting shrines with Suna and the team.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. We didn’t have anything planned, so they invited me to go with them.”

“Oh,” you said, slightly disappointed, but you understood. “That’s okay. I’ll just head back–”

“Do you mind checking up on Tsumu?”

You paused. “Tsumu?”

There were voices in the background as you waited for Osamu to answer. “Yeah,” he replied after shouting something away from the mouthpiece, “he should be there. Said he didn’t wanna go out for some reason so I left without him.”

“Um,” you said slowly, “I don’t wanna bother him if–”

“Come on, you know Tsumu,” Osamu said. “I don’t know why he was so insistent on staying home, but if he spends New Year’s all by himself, we’ll never hear the end of it. I’ll never hear the end of it. And I’ll feel bad if you go home all by yourself, too. Just stay over at our house and keep him some company. I made more than enough food for him, and you can eat some if you want. Please?” It wasn’t often that Osamu pleaded for things, and you knew he was right about the consequences of leaving Atsumu alone on a holiday.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Yeah,” you said begrudgingly, already feeling like you were setting yourself up for something you’d regret. “I’ll stay with him.”

Osamu let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks,” he said. “I owe you one.”

“You do. At least pick a good fortune for me at the shrine.”

He laughed. “I’ll try,” he said. “I’ll be home after midnight. Thanks, Y/n.”

You both hung up and you bit your lip. Great. A whole night alone with Atsumu, something you hadn’t spent since elementary school. You rubbed a finger into your temple and kept walking towards their room, cursing the night ahead.

You almost screamed when a figure almost walked into you from around the corner of the kitchen.

A light flipped on and you clutched your shirt at the sight of Atsumu giving you a confused look, a pair of headphones around his neck. The faint sound of music drifted from the earpieces between the two of you.

“Thought I heard something,” he mumbled, half to himself.

“You scared the crap out of me!” you yelled.

Atsumu grinned. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? This is my house, Y/n.”

You studied him as he opened the fridge and began unwrapping food. “Why are you home alone?” you asked. Atsumu was always the social one; it didn’t make sense that he’d refuse to go out with the team and Osamu.

“Didn’t feel like going with a crowd,” he said simply. “Does a guy need a reason to want some down time?”

You frowned. “Not unless it’s you,” you answered. “Down time’s not even in your vocabulary.”

Atsumu laughed a little. “Harsh. Of course I want some time to myself. Do you even know me anymore?”

You clenched your jaw at the way that question hit you right in your core. It made you a bit more sour than it probably should have, but only because you knew the answer was no.

“Are you gonna grab a plate or–” He was cut off by a fit of coughing, bringing his arm up to stick his face into his elbow. It went on for a few seconds and then he sniffled, grabbing a tissue from the counter to wipe his nose and let out a heavy breath.

You watched carefully as he moved through the kitchen without looking at you.

“Tsumu.”

He flinched.

Knew it, you thought. “You’re sick.” It wasn’t a question.

Atsumu swiveled around and you raised an eyebrow at how his face was twisted in denial. “I’m not! It’s just a cold! I’d never get–” He erupted into another round of coughs.

You sighed. “Go back to your room,” you said. “I’ll get the food ready.” Before he could argue like you knew he would, you shoved him into the hallway and slid the door to the kitchen shut, keeping him out. “Don’t come in here unless you’re dying,” you said through the door, “or I’ll eat all of Samu’s food by myself. Go back to bed.”

You waited for a moment to see if he’d say anything back, but all you heard was him grumbling and finally walking away down the hall.

Typical, you thought as you scooped food into separate bowls and set them on a tray. No wonder he didn’t want to go out to the shrines; he probably felt like crap and just didn’t want to admit it like the prideful idiot he was. He must have put on a better show than usual if Osamu hadn’t even noticed.

With the tray in your arms, you went to the twins’ room and thanked the gods that Atsumu was in bed and not impatiently pacing around like you expected him to be. He was sitting on his bottom bunk with the blankets pulled around all the way up to his neck. You stifled a laugh at the way he looked like a swaddled cone with just a head, clearing your throat to settle yourself.

“How did you know I was sick?” Atsumu asked, defeated. You could already hear the change in tone of his voice. He sounded more congested and raspy, and you made a mental note to replace the empty box of tissues that he’d now stuffed with his used ones as a makeshift trash can.

“Even a zombie could tell that you’re sick right now,” you replied, setting the tray down in front of him. “Come on. You need to eat something.”

Atsumu huffed and shuffled under his blankets to draw one arm out. You sat on the floor by his bed and took your own plate from the tray, eating quietly next to him.

“Did you tell Osamu I’m sick?” he said after a short silence.

“No. He probably wouldn’t even answer his phone right now. He sounded like he had enough going on with everyone else when he called me earlier.”

Atsumu stilled his hand and paused from scooping up his rice. “You guys still talk all the time, don’t you?”

You shrugged. “Just the usual amount.”

“Oh....” 

You watched him out of the corner of your eye while chewing on another bite.

“I haven’t really talked to you in a while, have I?” he said.

You stopped chewing and swallowed. You weren't expecting that question and you fumbled in your head for an answer. “I guess not. I mean, this is the first time it’s just been us two in a while.” You looked down at your plate to avoid his gaze that was now honed in on you. “I can leave, though, if you want to rest–”

“No.” Atsumu shook his head when you looked up at him. “I don’t mind if you stick around. You know I never mind. It’s just us, after all.”

Right, you thought sarcastically.

You, the girl who felt too much of everything and didn’t know how to rein in her own emotions, always letting them get the best of her.

Him, the boy you were so completely in love with, who you weren’t sure you even knew as well as you had anymore.

Just us. The lacking-in-dynamic duo.

You finally got your muscles to listen to your head and continued eating to mask your sparking nerves. You felt so shaky. Your head wanted to curse Atsumu for making you feel this way – for making your blood pound, your heart race, and your fingertips numb. He made it impossible to find your words when he spoke to you so easily, so hard to stop the corners of your mouth from turning up against your will just because he said you could stay.

“Did you like my gift for you?” Atsumu said softly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You shifted on the floor to face him. “Of course I did,” you answered. “Honestly, I didn’t think you would remember something like that.”

“What makes you think that? I remember lots of things.” He smirked. “And I know for a fact I remember some things about you that you don’t.”

The plate in your hands lowered to your lap as you squinted at him. “Not true.” You were highly doubtful he could remember things you didn’t. Atsumu couldn’t possibly have memories you didn’t know about, not when you were so in love with him that you took every important one and held it so close to your heart you could recall them at any time of day. “Give me one.”

His cocky smile grew as he tucked his arm back under the covers, settling back into his smug demeanor against the wall. “Even if I tell you, you probably wouldn’t believe me since you don’t remember it.”

Fair, you thought. But you wanted to know nonetheless. The idea that Atsumu could be holding secrets about you made you curious. “Just try me,” you said. “How else am I supposed to see if I remember or not?”

“Oh, I know you won’t. But I guess you’ll never find out now, will you?”

“Atsumu!”

“Hey, don’t spill Samu’s precious food, I want to eat–” A wracking cough broke through him again and the growing smile on your face quickly fell. When he gained his breath back, you stood up and pressed a hand against his flushed forehead that was starting to bead with sweat.

“Tsumu, you’re burning up.” Panic began to fill your body when you realized how pale his cheeks were. You hurriedly stacked your finished plates on the tray and looked down at him with worry. “Lie down. I’m going to clean up and then I’ll be back, okay?”

Atsumu nodded and swallowed heavily, shutting his eyes.

After cleaning the dishes and putting the rest of the food back in the fridge, you filled a bowl with water and grabbed a washcloth from the closet. When you stepped back into the bedroom, Atsumu was still laying in the same position. You wondered if he was already asleep.

“Tsumu?” you asked tentatively.

His eyes blinked open. “Good, you’re still here,” he said, a small smile on his lips. Your heart pulled with a deep aching in your chest. “Thought you’d leave me here to die.”

You scoffed and knelt beside his bed, dipping the washcloth into the bowl and pressing it to his forehead. “You’re not dying, stupid,” you said.

He was quiet for a second as you kept dabbing the washcloth around his face. “Hey, Y/n?”

“What is it now?”

“Why don’t we hang out anymore?”

The cloth hovered above his skin as you moved your hand to a new spot, and your eyes darted to meet his as he stared at you. Your palms felt clammy all of a sudden. Something in you felt like it was expanding in your chest and your heart began to pick up pace.

“We don’t have as much time anymore,” you answered gently. Your head was spinning from the way he wouldn’t stop looking at you.

“But you have time for Samu. We can make time. And I know you don’t talk to anyone else much, anyways. Some of the girls tell me you’re cold to them.”

“I’m not cold,” you defended quietly. “I just...I don’t talk much. Only to a few of them.”

Atsumu smiled and closed his eyes. “I know you’re not cold,” he agreed. “You’re my best friend, Y/n. You were the nicest one of all of us when we were little. And you’re still the best one.” It sounded like he was practically sleep-talking. He was rambling and you couldn’t find a place to break in between his words. “Even though we don’t talk a lot anymore, I still think you’re the best...I swear...you’ve always been the same, Y/n. You’ve always been the best person. I wish we were still the same as when we were kids. I miss those times with you a lot.”

At that, your heart came slamming against your chest wall. You felt palpitations rush through your blood right then. “Tsumu....” You didn’t know what to say except for his name, and only then out of sheer disbelief. You barely even noticed it slip out of your mouth as your eyebrows drew together and your breath hitched.

Everything was catching you so off guard. He was catching you so off guard. You tucked your bottom lip into your mouth and bit hard, trying not to let his words sink in too deep. Atsumu was never one to speak so vulnerably, and the only excuse you could come up for it was his fever. You wondered just how conscious he was that he was even saying any of this right now. A small part of you, the dreamer part that prayed against all odds, hoped he was aware enough to recall it later.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry and parched. “Yeah?”

“Happy new year.”

Damn you, Tsumu.

Your head was still burning like wildfire with all the meaning his words ingrained into you, and now he was making you smile from three lighthearted words that were no more than small tips of a single, little flame?

Leave it to Atsumu to change things up so quickly... to make your insides twist with so many emotions flipping over each other like literal butterflies flitting around in your stomach.

“It’s not midnight yet, Tsumu,” you replied, smiling at him even though he couldn’t see it.

“Oh.” His eyebrows came together in confusion, but his eyes remained closed. His temperature seemed to be going down as you continued pressing the washcloth against his skin. “Are...are there any fireworks yet?”

“Not yet, Tsumu.”

“Oh. Okay. Hey, Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“When the fireworks come, will you tell me?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Okay. Good.”

The water in the bowl was getting lukewarm and you stood up to go refill it. As you pulled your hand back from Atsumu’s face, his arm shot out from under the blankets and he grabbed your wrist tightly. You froze, staring down at him gripping you so suddenly and your lungs finally seemed to collapse.

His eyes were still shut. If you peered really hard, you could have sworn he had a line of distress between his brows. “Where are you going?” he asked sleepily.

“I–” If humans could implode, you would be doing it right now. Your heart was pumping so loudly you could feel the pulses in your ears and your chest was rising as you took deep breaths. How the hell could he so effortlessly drag you farther into being in love with him, even more than you wanted to be?

So, so unfair.

You knelt back down and slid the bowl to the side, leaving the washcloth in it as you gently pried Atsumu’s fingers from your wrist. “Nowhere, Tsumu,” you murmured to him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You watched his face fall back into relaxation and the muscles in his hand loosened up. “Good,” he mumbled, “okay. I just want us to stay like this for now. Together like we used to. I miss us like this.”

“Tsumu....”

He didn’t say anything else.

Love wasn’t enough to explain what you were feeling. This was different. This...was like a wave of galaxies completely consuming you, and your heart had never felt so full than it did in this moment. You almost felt like you wanted to cry. You already knew your mind was running away without a leash into fantasies and dreams that were so far from reality, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You just wanted to sink into this feeling of belonging at his side, even if you knew it meant something different to each of you.

It was almost like fate was indulging you when you caught a burst of light through the window. You shot up and drew the curtains back, peering outside to see fireworks shooting up into the night. You spun around to see the clock on the desk change to 11:59.

“Hey, Tsumu,” you said, prodding his side. “The fireworks are starting.”

His eyes snapped open and he turned his head towards you groggily. “Where?” He looked around in a haze and you tugged him to sit on the edge of his bed and face the wide-open window. You pushed the pane open a crack, just enough to hear the noise, and swaddled the blankets tighter around Atsumu to avoid the chill of the air.

“It’s almost midnight,” you said to him with a laugh, “but I guess some people’s clocks are off.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m glad they started early. I didn’t want to miss the countdown.” He nodded at your phone in your hand. “How much longer?”

You tapped the screen and swiped to the virtual clock. “Fourteen seconds.”

“Sit over here, Y/n.” Atsumu motioned with his hands from inside the blanket towards himself. You bit your lip at how adorably he looked like a blanketed potato.

You hesitated for a second then sat on the floor again, your head right beside his knees, and pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself. You laid your open phone on the floor and glanced at the second hand on its clock. “Seven,” you said into the room, eyes trained on the sky outside.

“Six.”

You turned your head at the sound of Atsumu’s voice, but he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was focused on the window, eyes wide open and unblinking, almost as if he wanted to soak all the bursts of colors into his blown-out pupils. His mouth was a little open like he was getting ready to gasp, and you secretly smiled to yourself, hunching your chin into your elbow to hide the happiness on your face.

He looked so sweet. He looked like nothing more than just a boy who wanted to watch a night full of fireworks. He looked so simply like himself...like your Atsumu, the boy who made you feel all sorts of fireworks.

“Five,” you said back, watching his eyes widen even more as another flare erupted among the stars.

“Four,” he barely whispered.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

As the last second passed, the night sky lit up as if it was day, bursting with flowers of light and streaks of sparkling colors, the cracking and popping of the fireworks matching the heavy beating of your heart as you spent the first moments of the new year watching the boy you loved spread a smile across his face, his eyes crinkling in the corners and nose scrunching up whenever he sniffled to himself.

“Happy new year, Tsumu,” you said as he drew the blankets tighter around him.

“Happy new year, Y/n!” For just a split second, Atsumu’s voice sounded less congested, and his clear happiness seemed to dissipate all the clouds of indecision that felt like they’d been smoking your heart out for the past ten years. Your vision seemed to brighten as you met his gaze when he looked down at you, beaming with all his teeth on full display and his cheeks flushed pink from the winter breeze that filtered throughout the room.

Suddenly, it was like your brain knew every answer to every question you buried away. It was like all logic you previously had was thrown out the window and you couldn’t believe how stupid you’d been to think so foolishly over all your feelings that tore you apart.

Atsumu was Atsumu. He was simply a warm-hearted boy, a boy who knew what he wanted and said what was on his mind no matter what anyone thought of him. He was always the one moving forward, even if it made him look reckless or thoughtless, and maybe that was what made him seem so cool, so out of reach for you, the girl who overthought every little thing.

You always wanted to be like him. So why couldn’t you?

As your gaze shifted to watch the fireworks that Atsumu was making tiny noises in awe at, you realized that being like him was something you were entirely capable of. All it was going to take were a few words and a couple of minutes.

And so, as the fireworks grew more and more sparse, scattered across the dark winter sky, you finally found a resolution to make. And this time, you silently said it to yourself without the word “try.” This time, instead of a half-hearted sense of uneasiness, you vowed it with determination and longing, promising to yourself that this time you’d see it through.

When no more lights littered the sky, you quickly shut the window, closed the curtains, and helped Atsumu settle back into his bed.

“Happy new year, Y/n,” he breathed quietly. “Thanks for spending it with me even though I’m sick.”

Your fingers seemed to act on their own and take confidence from your newfound resolution, sweeping across the bangs that were matted to his warm temples. “You’re welcome, Tsumu,” you replied. “Happy new year.”

“Will you stay with me until Samu comes back?”

“Yeah.”

Atsumu snuggled deeper into his blankets and it was only a matter of moments before his breathing slowed and you knew he was asleep. You spent the rest of the night watching his chest rise and fall beneath the covers, vaguely combing through the ends of his bangs. Your resolution weighed heavy in your mind as it settled itself into your heart, and you clenched your jaw as you looked at the love of your life so close to you.

I want to tell you, you silently confessed to him. Not tonight, but soon. Your fingers stumbled through the soft strands of his hair and you finally allowed an unabashed smile to settle on your lips without trying to hide it, breathing in the calm features of his face that could only be seen when he slept so peacefully. He wasn’t even doing anything but existing at this moment, yet it was more than enough for him to look so beautiful to you like this, and your heart bloomed with so much love it felt like you could burn him through your fingertips.

You drooped your tired head against the edge of the bed and glanced up at him – at Miya Atsumu, the boy who always filled your heart and thoughts like clouds framing the sky, the only boy you loved with every fiber in your being – with unfiltered adoration as your movements through his hair began to slow down and your eyes gradually fluttered closed.

As soon as I can, I want to tell you I love you.

–––––––

The first week after winter break, you had somewhat composed yourself enough to function in class without your thoughts swimming entirely of Atsumu. It was a personal feat, actually, considering you hadn’t been able to get him out of your mind since that night on New Year’s Eve.

As for your resolution, you decided you might as well rip off the bandaid. At the end of the week, after gathering your books and stuffing them into your bag to walk home, you scanned the halls near Atsumu’s classroom to look for him. Even though your heart was hammering and your brain was suddenly firing off signal after signal to tell you to rethink your decision, you knew you’d never get close to feeling this much initiative again. It had to be now or never.

You ran into Osamu at the end of the hall talking to his teammate Suna and asked if he’d seen Atsumu.

“Tsumu?” he said. “Haven’t seen him. He’s probably at the gym for practice already.”

You nodded and were about to turn around when Suna tapped you on the shoulder.

“I just saw him in the commons outside,” he said. “Near the sports field. He was talking to someone by the vending machines.”

You thanked him and headed towards the commons, your steps beginning to slow down as you tried to gather your nerves.

Cool it, you told yourself. Don’t freak out. Just say the words. Just a few words and then you can go home and be done.

When you reached the vending machines outside, you saw Atsumu with his back turned to you at the end of the paved walkway. Just as Suna said, he was in the middle of talking to someone. You didn’t want to interrupt, so you leaned against the wall and waited patiently for their voices to stop. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could tell the other person was talking more since Atsumu’s voice was rarely speaking up.

After a few more minutes, you heard footsteps approaching and adjusted the front of your sweater. You swallowed and wet your lips, the words you’d spent the last week saying over and over in your head with the image of him in front of you pushing to the front of your mind.

As you turned the corner to see if they were done talking, you almost smacked into a girl passing by. She jumped back with wide eyes and apologized.

“Sorry,” you said in return.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes flitted past her shoulder to see Atsumu looking your way now, with a crease of concern on his face. You nodded to the girl in apology again as she just stood there and studied you with her head tilted. She didn’t move, so you walked past her and towards Atsumu.

“Hey,” you said hesitantly, your own tongue feeling thick in your mouth. Alarms were blaring in your head and you pushed your impending fear away to look him in the eyes. “Is it okay if I talk to you?”

Atsumu kept looking at you. “Yeah,” he said, “I can talk. Here?”

You shrugged. “Wherever. Here is fine.”

Atsumu nodded at a bench on the edge of the sports field and slid in next to you after letting you sit down first. “What’s up?” he asked. You didn’t miss the slight change in tone that made him sound a bit nervous.

What does he have to be nervous for? you thought. If anything, you were the nervous one.

You shifted to angle yourself towards him and took a deep breath. “Tsumu,” you said slowly, balling your sweater into your fist behind your back so he couldn’t see how freaked out you were by your own actions right now. “I...I think there’s something I should tell you.”

He stared back at you with one raised eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Is it something I want to hear?”

“I don’t know,” you said, squirming. “Maybe. That’s why I’m going to tell you. But I’m sure it’s something you’ve heard before.”

“If you’ve told me before, why are you saying it again?” “Not from me,” you clarified. “I meant you’ve probably heard it from other people. Well, I know for a fact that you have.”

Atsumu leaned away nonchalantly. “Does this have to do with the bathroom incident?”

Your eyes widened with peaked interest. “What? What bathroom incident? Wait, no, that’s not the point–”

“Is it about me yelling in the library again?”

“No, Tsumu–”

“The volleyball I accidentally hit that kid with?”

“Atsumu,” you said exasperatedly, massaging your temple. Why the hell did you even like this boy? “Will you quit guessing and just let me tell you?”

He sighed and shrugged, tucking his palms under his legs as he sat there and looked at you expectantly.

Say it, your head demanded as your chest seized up under his gaze.

Atsumu blinked at you.

Say it.

Say it.

He cocked his head to the side and opened his mouth to speak when you didn’t.

Now.

Just freaking say it!

“I’m in love with you.”

The air seemed to still between you as you held your breath and felt your lungs burn, watching his expression and digging your nails into your legs to keep from running away.

Atsumu’s eyes widened and you bit the inside of your cheek. “You....” he trailed off. His mouth kept opening and closing without any words coming out, and you patiently waited for him to finish collecting his thoughts. “Y/n,” Atsumu went on after a minute, “you...I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled – again, nervously – and reached over to place the back of his hand on your forehead as you frowned in confusion. “Did I pass my fever on to you?” he asked jokingly.

You froze in place. His hand came away from your skin and you felt a numbing tingle where he’d touched you. You just stared at him with a straight face and a scolding denial running through your veins.

Told you so, told you so, told you so, chanted the scolding part.

No, he didn’t just say that, denial countered.

“...W-what?” You couldn’t help the stutter that fell from your lips as your facial muscles finally resumed action and began to pull your features into an upset frown.

Atsumu looked away from you and spoke towards the open field. “I think you’re a little confused, Y/n,” he said quietly, a sympathetic smile still on his lips.

You wanted to smack it off.

“You can’t be in love with me,” Atsumu said. “That’s impossible, right? You’re my best friend.”

“You’re not mine.”

Atsumu whipped his head back at you. “What?”

“You’re not just my best friend,” you said. “Tsumu...I do know what I’m talking about. I’m...I’m in love with you....”

He shook his head as if he was trying to convince himself that you were lying. “That can’t be, Y/n. You’re...you just can’t be.”

“Why not?” you asked, your voice starting to crack as tears gathered in your eyes. You felt the pressure building in your cheeks but refused to let yourself slip...not in front of him. No.

Atsumu swallowed. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do!” you shot back. You didn’t know why you were growing more angry than sad. Maybe it was because he was trying to deny your feelings. Maybe it was because all the years of keeping this unspoken confession inside were finally clawing up your throat to fight over what words they wanted you to spill forward. “You have no idea how much I know what I’m saying. Tsumu, I’ve loved you ever since we were little...over ten years. I’ve been in love with you for over ten years, for my whole life, okay? I love you... right now, I...I’m in love with you.”

Even though that was the truth, you didn’t know why you wanted to rip his hair off out of pure frustration when he answered, “No, Y/n.”

“...Why is this so hard for you to believe?” you whispered. The first tear broke out of your grasp and fell past your lashes, dropping down your cheek. You sucked in a shaky breath, knowing that was the end of the dam. Once the first tear fell, you always knew the rest would come. You were good at holding everything inside when you had it all together; but once any of it slipped past your defenses, it was always impossible to keep holding on.

Atsumu finally met your eyes with a look of sadness dragging his face down. 

Please smile, you begged him silently. Please don’t look at me like that. Please...Tsumu, please smile....

He didn’t. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he croaked out, and you could hear a light rasp in his voice from his lingering sickness, the same raspiness from when he spent the new year with you, when he smiled with a bliss that seemed so foreign to the expression he had on now. “I can’t... I...like somebody else.”

...Told you so....

Nothing was left for denial to say.

Everything seemed colder and you suddenly decided that you hated winter. You didn’t care how the snow looked freshly perched on the branches of the trees around you, or how the gray sky seemed like a neutral canvas that could be painted by all the colors without clashing with any of them. All you could think of when you turned your face up to that same sky now was how it reminded you of the way you felt.

Cold. Wrung dry. Blurred out.

...sad.

“Y/n,” said Atsumu softly.

You didn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said to you. It sounded faint, like there was something ringing in your ears and blocking his voice out from reaching you clearly. “I...I’ll just go.”

You didn’t make any movement to acknowledge him. All you heard was him standing up, and all you saw was the gray sky filling more and more of your vision, the dull, drifting clouds blurring over as the rest of the tears you were expecting came flooding to the surface, shoving against your lids to be let out.

So you let them go.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Atsumu walking away and allowed yourself to watch him leave. You straightened your head and felt the warm tears stream down your cheeks, emphasizing how cold the wind that stung your skin was.

Don’t look away, you warned yourself, straining to keep your head up while your heart begged it to give in and sink down. Look for the last time and finally get it in your head that this has been going on long enough. After this, move on and stop holding onto him like you should have done a long time ago.

You wouldn’t give yourself any more chances to fall like this again.

Atsumu was always willing to give anyone a chance. He was positive like that. If anyone gave him enough reason to believe in them, he would always be the first to test their sincerity and see how far they were willing to go. He could be harsh; you’d seen it plenty of times when he got heated about volleyball, with Osamu, and even with you in the past. Fire always burned, after all.

But one thing that never changed was that Atsumu never turned his back. He was always kind enough to be willing to receive, to offer an opening to someone as long as he was given a reason.

...Was mine not good enough?

Your mouth trembled as you watched him turn the corner and disappear from your sight, finally cracking under the pressure building up in your chest. Your throat closed in on itself and you took in a hiccuped breath. You clasped one hand to your mouth to stay as quiet as you could, clenching your eyes shut and finally shaking as you sat on that bench under the dead leaves of winter, your heart wanting to bleed out and soak into the pavement at your feet.

As willing as Atsumu was to give someone a chance, he wasn’t stupid. If he didn’t see potential, or didn’t want to lead someone on when he knew it would come to nothing, he was more than capable of saying no. He always said it was kindness to end things before they led to something worse, and you’d never questioned him. You’d never been on the receiving end of it before, but now you knew exactly how it felt.

It was your own fault, really. If you hadn’t given in to yourself and spilled your guts to him after this many years, maybe you’d be laughing with him on this bench right now. If you hadn’t changed how you hid everything from him, if you’d only stuck to keeping the distance between you two like you’d been doing before, maybe you wouldn’t be crying all alone.

Something in you snapped at how pitiful your thoughts were. You forced yourself to get off the bench with a burst of will and hoped that walking home against the wind would numb the pain even just a little bit.

How ironic, you almost laughed to yourself bitterly. You hated change, and now you were the one who changed everything. Who else could you blame besides yourself for what was happening?

That kindness of his isn’t the only reason he’s leaving me behind.

The other reason is me.

–––––––

“Y/n....”

You were backed up against the wall beside your bed, crying into your knees that you’d drawn up into your chest, concealing your face from Osamu as he sat next to you.

The minute Atsumu told him what happened, Osamu had dropped everything and raced to your house. He’d found you sobbing in your room in the same position you were in now.

That was a half hour ago. He wanted to comfort you, but he didn’t know how. All he knew was that seeing you like this was nothing if not painful. Osamu just wanted to make you smile, but you didn’t seem anywhere close to even lifting your head.

When he had come back from visiting the shrines on New Year’s with the rest of the volleyball team, he’d stepped into his shared bedroom to see you slumped on the floor with your head resting against the side of the bunkbed. You and Atsumu were both fast asleep. He hadn’t realized Atsumu was sick yet, so his first instinct was to move towards you and pick you up off the floor. He’d carried you to the couch and covered you with a blanket, lingering for a moment to look at the face of the girl he’d been growing feelings for lately before going to sleep himself.

Now, he could only pray to whichever gods were listening that the gentleness of your features that night would grace your face once more. He didn’t want you to keep feeling this hurt, not when he was here for you.

Osamu quietly tried to hush you again, hoping it would provide you with some kind of comfort even though it hadn’t seemed to work the entire time he’d been doing it.

“Y/n,” he repeated. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“...Samu,” you cried quietly.

He sat up. “Yeah?”

“Do you think Tsumu will remember Christmas from this year?”

He cocked his head. “Why do you ask that?”

You sniffled. “Because it was probably the last Christmas to have things be normal between us,” you said. “After today...I don’t think anything will be the same. All because I had to open my stupid mouth and tell him–” “Y/n,” said Osamu firmly. “It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t something you could control.”

You just hiccuped in response.

“And besides,” he said, “I don’t think Atsumu will ever forget this Christmas. You gave him that tuna plushie, remember? He sleeps with it every night, you know.”

You glanced up at him and he cursed himself for saying the wrong thing because you looked even more heartbroken now. Your eyes flickered away from his and you stared at an empty space in your room. “He’ll forget one day.” Your voice trailed off to cry a little more, and Osamu would have missed the whisper you let out from between your knees if he hadn’t been paying such close attention to your voice. “But I’m...I’m so scared that he’ll forget.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. It was clear to him that you were still in love with Atsumu, which wasn’t surprising. He knew you always had been. Anyone would have been able to tell from the way you looked at Atsumu ever since you were kids. But that didn’t make Osamu’s heart ache any less when he longed for you to look at him the same way.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed out suddenly.

He looked down at your trembling figure. “For what?” he asked softly.

You sucked in a breath to steady your shaking voice. “I l-lied, Samu,” you stuttered, your voice cracking at the end. “I was still in love with him...even though I told you I wasn’t. And I’m still in love with him and it hurts even more now. I’m s-sorry I lied to you.”

Osamu couldn’t believe how much his chest hurt when you started crying after your apology. He couldn’t believe you even thought that was something you needed to apologize for in the first place. With a sad smile, he plucked away the wet strands of hair that stuck to your face and tucked them behind your ears one by one.

“Do you really think that’s what I’m thinking about right now?” he asked sarcastically. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I already knew all that even without you having to tell me.”

You laughed a little and cried harder, making Osamu’s heart swell.

“Hey, Y/n.”

You peeked up at him warily.

Osamu took a breath. “What would you say if I said I’m the one who’s in love with you?”

You slowly tilted your head up to stare at him with swollen, puffy eyes. “W-what?” you asked weakly.

He moved closer to you, bringing his face in so he was almost brushing his nose against yours. He kept his gaze on your widening eyes even as you seemed to shrink back, and he gently took your hands in his as he smiled softly.

“I love you, Y/n,” he confessed quietly. “I always have.”

With one more sharp intake of breath, Osamu took his chance and pushed forward, pressing his lips against yours and kissing you against your tears with as much love as he hoped would fix your broken heart.

–––––––

Miya Atsumu was a memory bank. That is, when it came to important things.

He was also too blunt for his own good. But in his case, only when it came to unimportant things.

Atsumu was always one to voice his opinion. He didn’t care what people thought. Hell, sometimes he didn’t even remember what he’d said to someone an hour after making them angry. But he remembered the important things and controlled his tongue towards the people he cared about most; wasn’t that all that mattered?

He remembered countless times with the volleyball team when he tested his teammates’ patience, forcing Osamu to leave him to fend for himself. He remembered pushing your boundaries as kids when he’d tease you endlessly and make you mad at him before nagging at you to forgive him already. There were a lot of times Atsumu begged you to forgive him back then.

He didn’t think asking for it now would work as well as it did anymore.

Atsumu hadn’t meant to hurt you. His entire life was spent trying not to hurt you – at least not in a serious way. Sure, he often made fun of you and accidentally pushed you down the stairs one time, but Atsumu never wanted to hurt your heart. Your heart was something he always treasured and only ever wanted to protect, which is why it was easier to tell you he was into somebody else.

He couldn’t say he was in love with you, after all. Not when he’d been holding back from admitting it ever since you were kids.

A lot of things came to Atsumu’s mind when he thought about you. Things that the girls he dated would complain he forgot about them – birthdays, favorite foods, sports they’d played, their worst fears – all those things he got blamed for forgetting about someone else, Atsumu had spent his whole life memorizing about you.

He remembered the day you learned to swim in the deep end of the pool for the first time. He remembered the day you bruised your cheek when you fell on the curb while playing tag as he chased you. He remembered the way you cried when he would steal your paint supplies and use them to draw monsters that he said would eat you up. He remembered you clinging to him during Osamu’s ghost stories when the three of you had sleepovers, the way you liked your eggs in the morning, how you couldn’t go to sleep without two pillows under your head and another at your side, how you always smiled so brightly at him when you said he did something cool and asked him to teach you. Atsumu remembered everything.

And now all his cherished memories of you were tainted by the way he couldn’t forget how shattered you looked when he broke your heart.

He couldn’t say he was in love with you...but he also couldn’t say that he wasn’t in love with you, even though he knew that would be the best thing to do. No matter how hard he tried to will himself, he didn't have it in him to deny himself to that highest degree, to say “I don’t love you” when that was nowhere near close to the truth. Not even a little bit.

Atsumu loved you.

He loved you so much.

He loved you with more of his heart than he even knew he was capable of. You were his best friend for his entire life and his favorite person in the whole, wide world...and he was so completely in love with you.

Yet he was such a liar.

Miya Atsumu, undaunted volleyball player. Miya Atsumu, unrivaled academic student. Miya Atsumu, unafraid of anything.

That’s what people believed he was?

Yeah, right.

He always said he was never afraid and could easily take on any challenge given to him, but there was a single exception to that claim, one no one else knew about except for him.

The only thing that truly terrified Atsumu from the back of his mind to his heart was the chance of hurting you irremissibly.

And that was a chance he could never afford to take.

Everyone he’d ever gone out with had told him he wasn’t a good boyfriend. He always seemed to be the one who unintentionally hurt them in one way or another, causing the end of the relationship every single time. As badly as he wanted to be the only one meant for you, he didn’t want you to have anything less than what you deserved. You were the most amazing person in his world, after all. You deserved the best...and Atsumu didn’t know if that’s what he was when it came to love. And hell if he was going to risk that chance and jump at you if it would only end with him messing up like he was always told he did, ruining everything he had with you forever.

He wondered if the fear of that pain he could cause was really any worse than the way he denied your confession now. But hopefully, since he’d done this, it would be better for you in the long run...at least, that’s what he told himself.

As Atsumu turned away from the sports field after leaving you alone on that godforsaken bench, he trudged up the stairs with tears trailing silently down his frozen cheeks, ducking behind a corner and leaning against the building.

You’re the one person I can’t give any chances to, he thought as he caved in to the pain in his chest and finally let out a broken sob.

At the same time you were standing up to brush yourself off and walk home with an empty, worn out heart, Atsumu was sinking down against the cold side of a wall with his heart overflowing in emotions. No one would have guessed he was capable of such a heart-rending expression in contrast to the beaming face they saw every day. No one was around to see the unsurpassable Miya Atsumu break down into an ordinary lovesick boy who couldn’t do anything right now except throw his head into his hands and cry over the one person he always wanted but would never let himself have.

...Because you’re the only one I won’t allow myself to hurt.

–––––

end of part one.

[akimind]

“i couldn’t be prouder to have you as a partner, and you’re the absolute best setter.”

[paperplateprose]

not now kitten. daddy's realizing that the scene he invested 1000 words into could be significantly improved but only if he started over from scratch

[akimind]

sometimes i think about turning my fics into novels for publishing bc writing a novel has been my lifelong pipe dream, but then i feel guilty at the thought of deleting said fics here... how could i take away what connected me to fellow fandom lovers who gave me more inspo in the first place :(

[akimind]

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD UPH OHYMGOFHFK IHYMGOFHTK IJTMGODHGIFJWOEHROEHFKR

FJCKING MARRY ME SEMI PLEASEEEEEE IM SOIVNGNG

[akimind]

i love seijoh 4

[akimind]

the very first night.

a/n: inspired by the very first night by taylor swift. welcome to the mlist, matsukawa.

content: angst

word count: 9.8k+

[ matsukawa x reader ]

–––––

At eleven o’clock on a Thursday evening, you’re sitting on your bedroom floor in your apartment and studying the back of the photograph in your hand.

“Studying” — more like nailing into the folds of your brain. Again.

The handwriting is messy, scrawly, almost like doctors’ handwriting, but you know each letter and every curve of the ink. You know it like the creases drawn on your palm, like the cracks in your heart inlaid by the author.

He was the author, after all. He decided when the page would end, and you could only sit back and face the next line, the next chapter where this photograph is now merely a relic.

But the lines on this page, though worn, remain. The lines on this photograph, from the chapter when it was a promise and not just a relic, still spell out his words clear as day.

Keep smiling for me. I’ll give you more.

And the line underneath, no signature attached—

This is our first.

Keep reading

[akimind]

i miss atsumu osamu

[akimind]

unexpected. 

a/n: to the people who follow me – sorry i post once a month then provide nothing for weeks. here’s some word vomit as recompense T^T

genre: angst

word count: 16.7k+

[ atsumu x reader ]

–––––

Everyone deserves a chance, right?

The only thing you could focus on was just barely keeping your head up, just enough to watch him leave you behind.

So why are you walking away from me?

Keep reading

[akimind]

tooru is hanging out under the cut

[akimind]

ribbons.

a/n: i never would’ve rediscovered this hiding in my drafts if @chimielie didnt drag me back to this hellsite (affectionate) today... thank u my strawberry i miss living here

content: suggestive (very)

word count: 1.7k+

[ futakuchi x reader ]

–––––

When anybody asks you when your favorite Christmas was, your answer is always the same. And considering the person who asks you that question the most is usually the only one who ever does, his answer is the same too. It’s always been, “Four years ago, Kenji. When you finally asked me to be with you.” And then it’s always, “Good. I just want to make sure you remember and no one else has topped that yet,” which is then always followed by a roll of your eyes and a smirk on his lips. Four years ago has always been your favorite Christmas to remember, because it was the first Christmas you spent with Kenji, and the first day he made you his.

Now, you wonder if his brain wires have gone loose or been fried, because he seems to have forgotten that he’s yours, too.

“What in the seven hells are you doing?”

Kenji smiles up at you and adjusts his position on the ground. You make a strained effort to pull your eyes away from the angle of his open legs and what obviously hides between them.

But maybe hide is too generous of a word, because sprawling before you under the Christmas tree that you both put up months ago when Kenji insisted he wanted to start gift shopping early, covered in nothing but an assortment of red holiday ribbons roped languidly around his naked body and just barely covering his most jaw-dropping private parts, is your boyfriend.

Futakuchi fucking Kenji, you scold him in your head.

“What do you mean?” Kenji asks you with innocence. Propped on an elbow and lying sideways, he gestures down his body with one hand like he’s serving a main dish on a gold platter. “You can’t see?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing,” you say flatly. “Or interpreting.”

“Interpret it however you want, babe,” he says lightly. “Either way, it’s yours for the taking. And unwrapping.” He grins even harder.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “First of all,” you start, “I don’t know what you mean by unwrapping, because you clearly didn’t use a lot of wrapping in the first place.” Your eyes stray down his torso to his legs again, and you force yourself to turn back to his smug face. “Second of all…please just answer my question.”

He rests the side of his head in his hand. “What am I doing, you mean?”

“Yes.”

He hums to himself. “I’m waiting patiently for my love who has been such a good girl this year to open up her Christmas present,” he replies. “You’ve been on the nice list for so long and this is your reward. See?” Kenji taps the red bow that sits perfectly on top of his head.

You stave off a grimace and approach him slowly, kneeling on the floor next to him and tracing the tails of ribbon that lead to his toned abs. “I don’t even know what to say right now.”

“You could applaud me for my efforts,” he suggests. “Or say Merry Christmas. Or even just a thank you.”

“I want to smack you.”

Kenji reels back, gaping in offense. “I give you the best Christmas gift you could ever ask for—”

“Kenji—”

“Ready for you to use at a moment’s notice—”

“Kenji—”

“And you want to smack me? If this makes you want to smack me instead of kiss me, which I thought we’d be doing by now—”

“You’re naked under my Christmas tree!” you burst out.

Kenji raises an eyebrow at you, clamping his mouth shut. After a moment, he bites his lip and smiles again. “Our Christmas tree, babe.”

“Oh my god.” You stand up and shake your head to yourself. “I cannot do this with you right now.”

“What?” he cries, sitting up and grabbing your arm as you try to walk away. His impatience is clear in his voice. “Baby, sit back down and unwrap me or else I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Unwrap yourself? You’re tied up, Kenji.”

He sticks his tongue into his cheek, narrowing his eyes. “That can always be arranged, if my princess wants it. A presentation of her gift unwrapping—”

“That is not what I meant!”

“Oh, come on, baby,” he pushes. “You can’t honestly tell me you don’t like this one bit right now.”

“I…I don’t know what I think of it right now.”

Kenji’s face lights up when you don’t outright reject him, as if you’ve given him the green light to continue his antics. He inches closer to you and settles back into his pose. “Okay,” he says, “okay. That’s okay. You’re in shock because my surprise worked so well.” When you give him a pointed look, he rubs your arm gently. “Okay. Let’s just talk first. Do you have my gift for me?”

You nod and point under the tree, frowning a little. “It’s behind you. Don’t roll over on it. If you crush it, I’ll tie you up in a coffin.”

“Kinky. I like it.”

“Kenji—”

“You keep saying my name and I like that, too. Now, I wonder what my baby got me as a surprise for my gift,” he continues, musing out loud. “Was it something on my wish list?”

“Obviously.”

“Was I on your wish list?”

You sigh again, not even realizing you’re staring at the lower half of his body again until the muscles flex there while he tries to see your face better. Your head jerks to the ground as a blush rises in your cheeks.

Kenji angles your chin towards him with one finger, looking up at you with his head tilted and his smile softening. The glint in his eyes is more endearing now than enticing, and you feel the urge to fall on top of him if only to rest your head on his bare chest and listen to his heartbeat while he strokes your hair. Countless nights in that position have helped you fall asleep easier than anything else you’ve ever tried.

“Was I?” he repeats quietly, and you can practically taste the sweetness in his voice. How he can flip a switch so quickly to go from seductive to sweet is beyond you.

“I didn’t think you needed to be,” you reply, almost whispering.

Kenji purses his lips in thought, his fingers grazing your jaw and running over your cheek. “And why’s that?” he asks lowly, the corners of his lips just barely turning down. “Don’t want me? Is that it?”

You can already sense the darkening of his voice at the implication that you don’t want him; Kenji is patient when he wants to be, but when he isn’t…well, when that happens, you get the Kenji that’s in front of you right now. “I don’t mean it like that, and you know it,” you tell him. “I just don’t put things on my wish list that I already have.”

His fingers cease at your cheekbone and his pleased smile gradually reappears. The timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Ah,” he whispers, “in that case, you’re right. You already have me.” His thumb caresses your cheek one more time before he winds it behind your head and gently pulls your face down closer to his. When his lips stop just a hair’s breath from yours, your heart picks up speed and you can hear it in your ears. “I’m all yours,” Kenji whispers against your lips, so close you can practically feel his smile on your skin. “So won’t you open me up then?”

You frown at him again.

“Just pull, baby,” he coaxes, guiding your hand down to the edge of a ribbon.

After a moment of consideration, you do as he says and pull on the silky tail. You watch as it leads to a string of ribbon tied around his chest, loosening there and falling to the floor. “What made you even do this, anyway?” you mutter, not wanting to admit his so-called “gift” is indeed pleasing to your eyes as you move to another ribbon.

Kenji shrugs. “I wanted to top myself.”

You stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“The best Christmas I gave you,” he clarifies with a laugh. “Yours is our Christmas from four years ago.”

“Mhm.” You tug another ribbon and it undoes a section around his stomach.

“I wanted to best it,” says Kenji as if it’s the simplest answer in the world. “Your favorite Christmas. And since I’m the one who gave you your favorite Christmas…well, who better to best me than me again?”

You eye him with a roll of your eyes, not surprised at all because nothing has ever sounded so much like Futakuchi Kenji than those words from his mouth. “You’re unbelievable. What normal person thinks to do this just to one-up a Christmas?”

“Someone madly in love,” he says. After a few more moments of watching you untie him one ribbon at a time, Kenji wriggles closer and lays a hand on your leg, squeezing lightly. “S-so…hey,” he stutters, “did it work then?”

“Did what work?”

He squeezes you again, harder this time, his eyes boring into yours in a plea. Kenji always speaks the most with his eyes, and they say all the things he never allows his words to. And this time, those eyes are begging for your approval. “Your favorite Christmas,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding timid despite the heavy possession of his hand on your leg. “Don’t tell me I tripped over myself countless times trying to position these ribbons just right only for you to say our first Christmas is still your favorite.”

“Hm.” You pretend to debate in your head, pausing your undoing of his ribbons and gazing up at the ceiling in mock thought. When you glance back at Kenji, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, his eyebrows drawn together like he’s truly betting for something bigger than life in your answer. “In that case, you’re right,” you repeat his words back to him. “Our first Christmas is still special to me.” When Kenji gives you a puzzled and crestfallen expression, you lean forward and lay two kisses on his cheek, one a little closer to the corner of his lips, making them twitch. After you pull away, his face, completely caught off guard, is beaming redder than his wrapping and you smile cheekily at him, tugging on the last strand of ribbon and unraveling the rest of him entirely. “But you topped that Christmas with this one right now.”

[akimind]

the mean reds.

a/n: title inspired by holly golightly. story inspired by self-projection.

content: angst, fluff

word count: 2.2k+

[ suna x reader ]

–––––

“I’m…I’m sorry that I haven’t been myself.”

Keep reading

[akimind]

fireworks : he fell first (and harder too).

a/n: (happy birthday) twinnn where have u beeeen

content: fluff

word count: 1.8k+

[ semi x reader ]

–––––

Semi Eita does not have trust issues.

Yes, it’s difficult to put the vulnerability of his music under the scrutiny of the public eye, particularly to strangers who could very well be the key to signing record deals. Yes, his volleyball career never became a career when he was replaced as a team starter by none other than an underclassman; yes, he still has regrets from what feels like a million years ago in high school and how his gameplay in that final rally may have led his team off the path to their last nationals…second place in the spring tournament, nothing more. And yes, he’s a Scorpio, who are notorious for being distrustful of everyone and everything, at least according to Tendou.  

Despite all the reasons for him to justify having trust issues — in his team, his music, his skills, himself — towards all of them, Semi Eita does not have any.

What’s an entirely different story is when it happens to be towards you.

As it turns out, Semi Eita does not have trust issues…selectively.

Because for as long as he’s known you, his palms have never sweated more. For as long as he’s known you, his blush could be felt deep under his skin, miles beneath the surface of his face. For as long as he’s known you, he’s never been able to call your name without a stutter except when he says it inside his head.

For as long as he’s known you, Semi Eita knows he’s a walking dictionary entry of the phrase “A fell first, but B fell harder.” The only difference is he’s the one who fell first, and he’s also the one fell harder. Because even if you did know how he felt or miraculously returned his feelings, Semi thinks there’s no way you’d fall anywhere near as hard as he has for you. And maybe that’s why his trust issues suddenly put up a roadblock where they never have before; when it comes to you, Semi almost loses himself in everything he says or does. He has no idea how you do it to him, how you render him completely useless, and he doesn’t even know whether he wants it to continue or for it to stop completely.

Today, he thinks he wants it to stop.

Stop chickening out, just ask already.

Stop overthinking everything.

Stop picturing the worst case scenario.

Stop talking to yourself in your head, damn it!

It’s been an hour that he’s repeated this conversation with himself, and he still hasn’t gotten the resolve to do what he knows he should do — or rather, what he wants to do. The only thing holding him back are his goddamn trust issues, because it’s concerning you.

Screw being a Scorpio, he thinks to himself, trying to shake off the stereotypes of Tendou’s ramblings about horoscope personalities. The guy read too far into Semi’s — what did he call it? Birth chart? — for his liking, and now Semi regrets ever indulging him in the first place.

So with a final shake of his head and hands so sweaty with nervous jitters he thinks he’ll never be able to play a guitar again, he forces himself up from his hotel bed, grabs his phone, and dials a number.

–––––––

“I really wanted to see the fireworks tonight.”

Semi nods in understanding, not sure how to comfort you.

“Yeah,” he simply says, leaving his unspoken I wanted to see them with you to his own ears.

“The site is pretty far from our hotel, so I don’t think we’ll be able to see them from here…are you sure you want to stay? You don’t have to keep me company, you know. You should go down to the festival and enjoy it, too.”

“It’s okay,” says Semi without a second of hesitation. “I’m not one for crowds, anyway.”

“You and me both,” you reply. “Makes you wonder how we ended up at a popular festival for our high school reunion, huh?”

Semi chuckles. “Once Tendou gets an idea in his head, it doesn’t matter how the rest of us vote. Majority rules has never been enough to stop him.”

You laugh in return and Semi thinks it’s the sound of heaven. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to capture a sound just as beautiful in his music someday; considering it’d be compared to you, he thinks not. 

You groan again and flop down on the bed where he’s sitting beside you. “Of course I had to get sick on the night of the festival. And everyone was so excited for all of us to be together again, too…even Wakatoshi came!”

Seeing your dejected sigh at having to sit out the festivities, Semi doesn’t have the heart to tell you Ushijima only came because Tendou claimed Oikawa Tooru would be here on vacation while looking for a new professional team to transfer to. He wonders if Ushijima has figured out that lie yet, like so many others Tendou has told to coerce him to join their reunions every year.

Along with the rest of his former teammates and team managers from high school, all of them should be at the main event site now. It’s the middle of autumn, and the fireworks festival kicked off for the evening a few hours ago, starting with open food stalls and activities to pass by. The fireworks, if Semi’s phone call yesterday was successful — along with a large sum donation from his recent tour sales — should begin sooner (and nearer) than he felt ready for.

“Wouldn’t you rather be there than stuck in here?” you ask him, and he wonders if his mind is playing tricks on him when he senses a note of anxiety in your voice.

“Wouldn’t you rather have someone to talk to here?” he says.

“I don’t want you miss out just because of me.”

I’d miss out on my firstborn child for you, he thinks almost too quickly to be considered sane, before realizing that doesn’t make sense because who else would he even have a child with if not you?

So instead he asks, “You really wanna be alone here?”

And he finds it oddly cute when you squirm and scrunch your lips together in conflict. “Well, no. But at least if you go, I’ll have a personal emissary doing recon of everything just for me.”

“That sounds pretty exploitive,” Semi plays along.

Exploit me, he thinks almost pleadingly in his head. Briefly, he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

“Come on,” you say, sitting up again and enticing him with the prettiest smile he’s ever seen in his life. He almost loses his breath at that smile, almost forgets to listen as you go on, “You’re my eyes tonight, Eita. Tell me how the food is, how the fireworks look, everything. Or better yet, take pictures for me, okay?”

Semi rubs his sweaty palms on his pant legs. “I’m no photographer,” he brushes off because as always, around you, he doesn’t trust how worthy his photography skills — or any skills — would be, “but I’ll try my best. I’ll go before the fireworks start, when the crowd is mostly settled down.”

You hum in satisfaction. “Thanks,” you tell him happily. After a silent moment and another small sigh from you, he hears you repeat quietly, “I really did want to see the fireworks tonight.”

He doesn’t trust his assumption that your words were meant for him to hear or not.

What he does trust right now, though, is the clock on his phone and the small timer in the corner of the screen when he taps it to check the countdown he set exactly two hours ago.

Five.

Semi glances up at the window of your hotel room to make sure the view is not obscured. He drew the curtains back the moment he stepped in here.

Four.

He takes a deep breath and hopes his trust in at least this small thing when he’s with you right now will follow through.

Three.

He swallows his uncertainty down and takes a chance to peek at your face from under his bangs, noting the faint drop of the corners of your smile, which is already so small it’s hard not to see it as anything except forlorn.

You must’ve really wanted to see those fireworks, he thinks to himself.

Two.

I hope this makes you happy, he adds in his head, biting his lip to hold back his own obvious hopeful smile.

One.

Semi is only halfway through a breath when, right on time as he silences the timer on his phone before it can even make a sound, a streak of light shoots up into the sky, perfectly framed in the center of the window pane.

He hears your sharp inhale and tries to bite his lip down harder.

The light explodes at its peak, erupting into an array of blossoms that twinkle in golden radiance like confetti in the dark against the clear night. 

And as another streak of light follows immediately after, the firework delaying just enough for him to catch your voice in time before another pop of explosion, he hears you gasp, “Wha…how…”

And Semi finally allows himself to smile wide, freely.

Firework after firework illuminates the sky, contesting with the stars and drawing another audible breath from you each time, and Semi thinks he’d use his concert sales to put on a fireworks show for you every year like this if it made you look the way you do now. He simply can’t bring himself to look away from the blissful awe on your face.

Semi has never figured out whether he wants this feeling to continue or stop whenever he’s around you —  that feeling of not knowing what he’s doing, not knowing what he’s saying, not knowing if he’s making a complete fool of himself in front of what he can only call the utter love of his life.

But tonight, Semi decides he wants it to continue. He doesn’t care if he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t care how you render him completely useless, doesn’t care if he’s nothing but a dopey-smiled mess of a man who couldn’t be more helpless in front of you.

Semi Eita may not trust himself around you, but right now, he just doesn’t care.

Right now, the only thing that matters, the only thing he trusts, is the instinct in his gut to lay his hand over yours and watch your expression as you stare up at the sky, a million fireworks in the reflection of your eyes lighting up the ones that were already there. He intertwines his fingers with yours and lets out a breath of relief when you don’t move away, instead tightening your own warmth around his.

Please let this continue.

For the first time since he’s known you, as he leans in and steadies his gaze when you suddenly turn to look at him, Semi doesn’t stutter when he says your name out loud. Then, smiling slightly, he asks you a simple question that he trusts he knows the answer to, trusts that what you say will be the same as what he’s thinking, because his eyes can see them sparkling ever so clearly in yours.

“Do you see the fireworks now?”

[pofusoup]

pretty setter #1

[akimind]

elevens.

a/n: ITS STILL OUR BIRTHDAY SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD ITS THE LAST FEW MINUTES IM NOT LATE IM NOT

content: angst

word count: 1.8k+

[ semi x reader ]

–––––

“Happy birthday.”

Semi smiles at you as you hand him the small gift bag you spent far too much time putting together for him. No one, least of all Semi himself, will ever know how much you fretted over this gift for today. No one really needs to know.

“Thanks.” He shakes the bag a little, pretending to guess what’s inside, and you laugh, if only to humor him. He does it every year; you would know. “I wonder what you could’ve gotten,” he muses. “You always have a knack for things like this.”

You shrug awkwardly. “I wouldn’t say that,” you tell him, taking your shoes off at the door. “Just a weird recollection of what y—everyone happens to like.” The slight pause in your choice of words makes you stiffen on the inside. You bite your tongue as you pray he doesn’t notice.

Semi nods and his smile dampens a little. He studies at you for a moment, making you want to look anywhere else but at him and desperately hide. “Yeah,” is all he murmurs at first. Then, more quietly, like he’s testing out the waters, he asks, “So…how are you?”

You force a smile back and swallow down your scream. “I’m okay,” you say automatically.

And he just nods again, his own smile almost gone this time.

After a second more of piercing silence and taking all you can stand of the eye contact he doesn’t break, you clear your throat. “Um, so where is everyone?” 

He blinks. “O–oh, the kitchen.” He motions you further into his apartment and steps aside for you. “Go on in. I’ll, um, be right behind you. Here.”

You hesitantly give him your coat when he gestures for it, watching as he turns to hang it on a line of hooks on the wall. The moment his back is turned, you take your chance at a breather and escape to the other room.

“You came!” exclaims Tendou the minute he sees you, and you sigh with relief at his being here, not just as a friend but more so neutral ground. A buffer.

A second buffer comes in the form of Yamagata Hayato standing in the kitchen. He gives you an unbothered look when you enter and tips his drink your way. You stick your tongue out at him and make a face. It’s because of him that you’re even here in the first place, and the bastard had the nerve to make you come by yourself. The least he could’ve done was bring you with him so you wouldn’t have had to face Semi alone at the front door.

“You have to find a way to be in the same room as him, Y/n. You can’t avoid him forever.” It was two days ago that Yamagata had said that to you, two days ago when he’d barged into your apartment after hearing you wouldn’t be at one of his closest friend’s birthday party. The thing is, though, Semi isn’t just Yamagata’s friend anymore. It’s much worse than that now, a lot worse than you could’ve imagined four years ago. “Not with all our friends being friends with both of you,” Yamagata said. “What are we gonna do, never see you when he’s around and vice versa for the rest of our lives?”

You groaned at his rhetorical question. It felt like mockery when you’d already been turning that dilemma over in your head for weeks.

“I know,” you answered, rubbing your temple. “I know, Hayato, I just…it’s just going to be awkward…you know? I don’t want to make it uncomfortable for him. It’s his birthday, not mine.”

Yamagata groaned louder in return. “As the birthday celebrant, he himself said you were invited. So you won’t be making it awkward if you come. If anything, it’ll be more awkward if you don’t come. It’ll be obvious.”

“Isn’t is already?” you reasoned.

“A year ago, yeah,” he scoffed. “When your breakup was still raw. But that was a year ago, Y/n. You can’t honestly tell me nothing has changed until now.”

You said nothing. The word breakup still hurt more than it should’ve inside, and it took some tensing to force yourself not to cry, but you knew better than to tell Yamagata that.

He peered down at you with suspicion. “Has nothing changed until now?”

A shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Look here. And tell me the truth when I ask this.” He tugged you towards him and waited until you turned your head his way. His eyes were stern, but his voice gentle. “Are you okay?”

And you sighed, knowing he genuinely cared about your well-being. “I’m okay.”

Yamagata smiled. “So if you’re okay, there’s no harm in seeing him, right?” he said.

You sighed. “I guess so.”

He clapped a hand of encouragement down on your shoulder in pride. “There we go. So you’re coming. Right?”

And you dodged his next clap by stepping back swiftly, shooting him a look of reluctance yet defeat. “Yeah. I’ll come.”

Now, Yamagata is watching as you practically cling to him for comfort, as your eyes follow Semi for the entirety of the party, and your bottom lip is practically chewed raw in your palpable nervousness.

It’s been a few hours of this. He shakes his head above you. “What’s up?” he finally asks.

You glance at him then back at your cup. “Nothing,” you answer. Your fingers idly graze the rim, and your jaw clenches when you hear Semi laughing across the room. You wonder briefly when the last time you heard him laugh that way with you was.

Yamagata unglues his arm from your side and leans over the kitchen island to your level. “Hey…you okay?”

Your fingers stop tracing the glass and you say nothing for a moment; because the answer is no, but you consider lying to him for the sake of saving face. But when Yamagata taps the counter to tell you to look at him, you put your head in your hands and decide that, after doing it to yourself for the past twelve months, lying is the last thing you should be doing anymore. “No. No, I’m not, Hayato.” You say it with exhaustion, with fatigue and frustration, because you know it’s the wrong answer but it’s still the real one. It’s honesty, and it’s brutal. “I thought I was, but…” You rub your fists into your eyes so hard you see static. “…I’m not okay.”

When your hands stop digging into your eyes and you just let yourself stand there, slumped at the island and hiding your face, you feel Yamagata’s arm wrap steadily around your shoulders. You let him curl you into his side and he squeezes you once as if to say it’s okay. So you uncover yourself and tuck your hands to your chest, but still keep yourself half-shielded from the rest of the party by his body.

No matter how healed you thought you’d been to be able to come today, facing the reality of moving on without the person who once held your heart still proves to be impossible—especially when he is so close to you, yet somehow still feels so out of reach.

You realize now that you just might never completely be over Semi Eita.

Across from you, through the glass sliding door, Semi is sharing goodbye jokes to Goshiki when he catches a glimpse of you laying your head on Yamagata’s shoulder; and it’s just as Yamagata is pressing his lips to your temple, as Goshiki steps back inside and slides the door closed to mute the words Yamagata visibly says beside your ear, that Semi’s view is blocked by a head of fiery hair.

He feels an old, fleeting grip tighten around his heart at the loss of you from his sight.

Tendou interrupts his vision and cocks his head at him. “What’s wrong, Semi-Semi?”

Semi turns back around, facing away from the door and kitchen again. He stares hard into the darkness of the quiet, chilly night. Miyagi stares back, peaceful and comforting, but Semi feels nothing but torn conflict inside. “Nothing,” he mutters. “It’s nothing.”

His conscience taunts him through the wind and he nestles himself on his crossed arms on the balcony railing.

Until now, you’re still lying to yourself.

Luckily, Tendou doesn’t pry further, and even if he can tell something is wrong, Semi knows he won’t say anything to directly address it. It’s one of his better qualities.

Instead, he just hears, “Hey, it’s 11:11! Semi-Semi, make a wish!”

He turns his head to the side, still lying on his arms, and frowns. “You seriously believe in that kind of thing?”

Tendou nods with surety. “It’s 11:11 on 11/11. It’s your birthday. Make a wish!” he tells him. When Semi simply faces ahead and ignores him, Tendou steps closer and leans an elbow on the railing too. “Make a wish or I’ll make one up for you and tell everyone what it is.”

Semi groans and closes his eyes.

After a moment, Tendou pokes his arm. “Did you wish?”

Semi’s eyes open and side-glare him. “What do you think?”

His friend hums in satisfaction. “What did you wish for?”

“If I tell you, doesn’t that mean it won’t come true?”

Raising a brow, Tendou clicks his tongue. “Oh, so now you believe in this stuff, too,” he provokes. Semi grunts and looks away again as Tendou continues, “Well, you’re right anyhow. If you say it out loud, it might not come true.” He looks out to where Semi is looking, as if trying to see what his friend is sulking at. “But I wonder,” he says quizzically, “what sort of thing could Semi-Semi possibly wish for that he’s so afraid of not coming true?”

Semi doesn’t even look when Tendou simply pushes off the railing and traipses back inside the apartment. He can practically hear his maniacal laughing in his head. And it’s mocking him so much he shuts his eyes again, jaw clenched, and fires back with words no one can hear.

A lot, actually. A lot that you don’t know.

He doesn’t even know himself.

Because it’s his fault it’s like this. It’s his fault you’re in there while he’s out here, and you’ve barely spoken to him on his birthday, and that he wished on a star for the first time in his life. Desperate times call for desperate measures; and when it comes to you, there’s almost nothing Semi would turn down to pray to the universe for just one more chance.

Yeah…it’s all my fault.

Slowly, he lets his eyes open again, if only to escape the internal madness, and stares up at the infinite sky, allowing no one to hear him except for what he hopes is the merciful moon.

“…I guess I just wish for the impossible.”

[akimind]

hearts hurt; you should know by now.

a/n: happy birthday to my 11/11 twin ♡ :D

content: angst

word count: 726

[ semi x reader ]

–––––

“Did you ever love me?”

Keep reading

[akimind]

ELIZABETH TAYLOR (swift)