dares and unrequited love should never be mixed with alcohol.
tags: fluff, kind of sexy, unrequited, pining, mutual feelings, a tiny bit of angst
It was the stupid, stupid dare. Iwaizumi thinks as he watches you make your way towards the dance floor, right in the middle of the crowd. The flashing lights make it hard to see clearly, but he tried his best to focus his eyes on you.
You don’t have to do it, he tried telling you a while ago but you weren’t listening, already stubborn and tipsy to be your usual rational self.
They were only teasing, the same as they always did with the two of you. He wondered what reason Makki had to push your buttons tonight, more so than he ever did in the past. The culprits, Oikawa and Hanamaki, already scurried away, following right after you in the dance floor. Mattsun who didn’t join in the teasing stayed in the booth with him, drinking and smoking, but Iwaizumi knew that despite his silence, he was just as invested in this dare as the other two. His smirk behind his glass was the only hint Iwaizumi needed to confirm his suspicion.
He was an hour late to your get-together and by the time he arrived, Hanamaki was already drunk, Oikawa not too far behind and you trailing off the other two. Iwaizumi could only sigh as he slid on your booth, taking the empty seat beside you.
“Remember when you confessed to Iwa-chan in high school?” Oikawa blurts out of nowhere and Iwaizumi knew he needed a drink fast.
“Oikawa,” he warns.
You groaned, but Iwaizumi could see you laugh slightly. “Oh god. Please, don’t remind me.”
Oikawa cackles and high-fived Makki.
“That was horrible, wasn’t it?” You asked, turning to Iwaizumi for the first time that night but before he could reply, you continued. “I shouldn’t have done that. Now these idiots won’t let me live it down.”
I shouldn’t have done that.
Iwaizumi felt a twinge in his heart upon hearing those words, but he numbed it down by drinking his glass of rum.
“They’re idiots,” he consoles.
The memory of that time flashed in his mind. It’s scary how vivid he can remember it, how you looked back then, how you said the words he wanted to scream at the world, and how he had to break both of your hearts because he was going to UCLA.
“At least we’re still friends,” you declared. “All’s well that ends well, right?”
You turned to him again, a soft grin on your lips as you bumped your shoulder to his. The brief touch sent a wave of electricity down to his toes, but he couldn’t dwell on it because Makki started running his mouth again.
“Well, if all’s well that ends well, I think you’d be up for a dare,” he mused.
“And what do I get if I win?” You challenge, already caught with his bait.
“Let’s see,” Oikawa hums. “It has to be what you really, really want. How about if… we never talk about your confession to Iwaizumi?”
Iwaizumi watches you pause, clearly surprised at the reward. The memory of that time was like a bane to your existence, used by the trio to tease and blackmail you at times.
“What’s the dare?”
“Nope. You have to say yes first before we tell you what it is,” Makki says.
Iwaizumi opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.
“Deal.”
He turned to look at you, taken aback by your decision. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.
“If it means we can all move forward from my dark history, I’d take it,” you answer. Looking at Oikawa, you asked, “What do I do?”
“I dare you to hook up with someone tonight.”
There was silence for a while and Oikawa spent the whole time looking at you with challenge in his eyes but you weren’t backing down.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he heard you right.
“Don’t be stupid,” he tells you but you were already shrugging off your cardigan, revealing the dress you were wearing.
“Here,” Makki says as he slides a shot of vodka in front of you. “So you don’t get scared.” He teased, chuckling as you shot it back.
“I’m no coward,” you haughtily say before standing up and Iwaizumi’s breath gets caught in his throat as he sees your clothes completely for the first time that night.
The only problem with the dress was that it was an inch shy of being indecent and it hugged all the right places and you looked good-hot, gorgeous, amazing, but Iwaizumi had to snap out of it because you were friends.
He was the one who said those words six years ago.
When you asked him to stand so you can get out of the booth, everything in him wanted to protest, wanted to hide you away from everyone so no one can see you in that dress, but he willed himself to stand and make way for you.
He knew then he was fucked.
Iwaizumi feels himself panic when he loses sight of you from the crowd. His panic turns to something… bitter and green as he watches a stranger whisper close to your ear and you laughed.
Fuck.
Forcing his eyes away, he refilled his glass and downed the whole thing before closing his eyes. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine now, could feel the dull, heavy pounding in his head, probably because he’s still adjusting from the difference in time zones.
“If it means anything to you, she rejected me,” he hears Matsukawa say.
Slowly, Iwaizumi opened his eyes to look at his friend. His heart pounded in his chest, a thousand questions flooding his brain but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
Why? Why are you telling me this? You liked her? How could you?
His last thought made him laugh. Iwaizumi reached for his empty glass, shaking his head as he laughed at himself and how much of a hypocrite he is. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I ran away.”
Matsukawa sighed and leaned back in his seat. “We all know she would’ve waited.”
“I couldn’t do that,” he counters. “I would never make it to UCLA if I accepted her confession back then and she would never forgive me if I stayed.”
It was a confession Iwaizumi never told anyone. He wanted to bring it with him to his grave, his biggest what if and his greatest regret, but it was freeing to say it out loud. He could feel the weight off of his chest lessen now that his secret is shared with one trusted soul.
He thought about how he lived off of your encouragement and support during his stay abroad, finding comfort in your messages despite how seldom they came with how busy you both were. He was worried at first but it didn’t become awkward between the two of you given what happened, probably because of the physical distance.
He wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for you.
“She’s still in love with you,” Mattsun says.
Iwaizumi watches as Matsukawa raises his middle finger, mocking whoever he was looking at and Iwaizumi follows his line of sight, landing on you and the stranger from before.
Upon seeing Matsukawa flip you off, you threw your head back and laughed.
Iwaizumi watched as your head meets the stranger’s chest and you laughed again at whatever he whispered in your ear. He could see your bodies sway together, moving in unison as the man slides a hand to your waist.
It honestly felt like his heart is being smashed to pieces inside his chest.
Your eyes turn to Iwaizumi, and you held his gaze for a second too long before turning away fast.
Leaning back in his seat, he thought about the what ifs and could haves between the two of you. He loved you. Loves you. Always. What if he accepted your confession, would you survive the long distance? What if he didn’t go to UCLA and went to Tokyo University with you instead, will the two of you be happy? Time was never on his side then, but will it be now? If he risks it all now, will you accept him?
“Shit!”
The loud curse from Matsukawa interrupted his pity party. Raising his head, he turned to see what Matsukawa was looking at and his eyes landed on you arguing with the man you were just dancing with, more like grinding with, he bitterly added, seconds ago.
Iwaizumi bolted out of his seat and walked right into the pool of sweaty bodies faster than you could blink, his eyes never leaving you as you continue to argue with the stranger.
“I told you a million fucking times not to touch me,” he heard you shout just as he reached the circle you were now making in the middle of the dance floor.
The man shook his head, laughing in disbelief. “You were practically begging for me to touch you. You kept on sticking your ass whe-“
Screams erupted at the same time Iwaizumi feels a sharp pain shoot up his arm. He was breathing hard, his body taut as a wire because of the sudden anger raging inside him. Whatever the man was supposed to say, no one will ever know because Iwaizumi broke his nose before he could utter another word. He watched as the man clutched his bleeding nose while groaning pitifully on the floor.
“Fucking idiot!” He heard you say before he felt you pull him, dragging him away before he could contemplate inflicting further physical harm.
As the two of you passed the exit of the club, you were on his face yelling at him. “What the hell were you thinking?! Someone could’ve recognized you!”
He could hear you speak, rambling on and on about how much of an idiot he was but all he could think about was that man’s hands on you and before he could stop himself, pulled you to him and placed his hands on your waist.
At this distance, you’re wrapped up on his cologne and combined with the alcohol, the only thing on your mind is to take it all in, to breathe in his scent and to bask in his touch. His hands were larger, firmer and warmer than the stranger’s hands. And they felt perfect there, on your waist, meant to never touch anyone else’s.
But reality hits you like a truck and you pushed Iwaizumi away.
It was like a punch to his stomach and it left him breathless, reeling from the tangle of emotions he was feeling. He knows he’s scared shitless right now. Scared of letting himself be this vulnerable, scared of the fact that maybe he’s too late but what he doesn’t want to even think about was the possibility of losing you in the aftermath of whatever is going on between you two.
“We need to talk,” he tells you.
He tentatively reached for your arm, afraid that you’d run away again.
When you turned to look at him with red, glassy eyes, Iwaizumi could only take a shaky breath before running a hand through his hair.
Words were flooding his brain in that moment, each word fighting over the other to be said first, but he was like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth, unable to get the words out so he let instinct take over and crashed his lips to yours.
The first touch was light, tentative and scared, with his hand cradling your cheek as seconds passed, the two of you stuck in a limbo of unsaid words and restrained emotions. He could feel the knot in his stomach disappear when you didn’t push him away, and feeling a dose of courage fill his veins, pulls you closer with his hand on your back as he angled your face to deepen the kiss.
It was exhilarating and he felt braver, bolder because you were kissing him back with the same energy, the same hunger he felt, your lips matching his every move. He gasped when he felt you tug on his hair, and you used this as an opportunity to slide your tongue in his mouth.
Sweet fucking Jesus, Iwaizumi thought. He could feel the goosebumps in his skin as he trembled at the sensation of your mouth. You are the sweetest thing he ever tasted and the tinge of bitterness he could taste from the alcohol was just as addicting.
Iwaizumi knew this kiss was far from romantic, not at all what he imagined he’d do if he would ever be given the chance to kiss you but it was perfect. It was passionate and desperate, exactly how he feels in that moment, exactly how he feels about you. He never wanted to stop, he wanted time to stop, freezing the two of you in that moment but you jumped away from him when a car horn blasted beside you.
“You getting in or not?” the cab driver yelled from inside the car.
“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You were breathing heavily, hair disheveled from the way Iwaizumi was weaving his hand through it during the kiss and you were looking at him with the same heat, the same hunger pooling in his own stomach.
Before you could protest, Iwaizumi pulls you to get inside the car with him following closely. He rattles off his address to the driver as the taxi drives away from the curb.
He watches you fidget in your seat, your hand raised as you bit your nails but he took your hand and entwined your fingers with his to stop you.
There was only silence between the two of you during the car ride but he knew you were as restless as he was, heat prickling under the skin and eager to touch once again.
The two of you dashed inside the building and the elevator doors just closed when Iwaizumi pins you to the wall, his lips crashing into yours once again in another intoxicating kiss. Both of your hands are now buried in his hair, pushing and tugging as you kissed him back. His hands are everywhere, touching and pulling you closer and closer to eradicate any space between you.
Thank heavens there was no one else in the elevator.
As the box slowed to a stop, Iwaizumi practically carried you out as he led the two of you towards his door. It took him four tries to open the door because he was so distracted with you kissing his jaw.
When he got it to open, he drags you inside and kicked it close. Iwaizumi expertly maneuvers the two of you around his house all while keeping you close to him the whole time.
You feel the air whoosh out of your lungs when he throws you on his bed, him quickly chasing your lips once again as he joins you in bed.
There were no thoughts in your head at that point, all your senses zeroed in on him as you bask in the feel of his weight on you, a guttural moan escaping your lips when his hips met yours.
And that’s when Iwaizumi shuddered as alarm bells rang in his head.
This isn’t supposed to happen.
This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.
It’s not as though he had it all planned out with roses and candles nor was he particular with details, but this is wrong. You’re drunk and he’ll be damned if he took advantage of that.
“We should stop.”
“What? Why?” You asked, hands still roaming on his back and he shivered when you kissed his jaw. “It feels good.”
He definitely did not have to hear that. It took all of his willpower to control himself and not kiss you again when your lips are busy leaving trails on his neck. He pushed himself up to look at you, definitely also a mistake because seeing you on his bed, your hair disheveled, cheeks red and lips swollen, something inside him snapped and he mentally debated whether he was a masochist for doing this to himself.
What broke him out of his trance was you suddenly sobbing, face scrunched up as tears streamed down your cheeks.
“Shit. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” He frantically asked.
“You’re an idiot!” you wailed as you sat up, hands furiously rubbing on your cheeks. “I did everything to make you like me and now you don’t even want to touch me because-because I don’t know why! I hate you, you insensitive gorilla!”
Iwaizumi was dumbfounded at your words. He knew you liked him back in high school but he didn’t think you’d keep your feelings for him even after he rejected you. He knew how stupid it was to let the love of his life go but he didn’t want to put the two of you in jeopardy because of his plans.
You were trying to punch him now, your fists clenched but all they were doing was thumped on his chest and even though you were already snotty and tear-stained, his heart still thrashed in his chest, screaming that you are the most beautiful person in the world.
He would’ve kissed you then, except you cut his train of thought with “I think I’m going to be sick” before proceeding to puke all over yourself and into the duvet.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
The next morning, you get woken up by the loud ringing of your phone and you swiped at it, knowing that the familiar tone is dedicated to Oikawa and he probably has some gossip or whatever to be calling you this early in the morning.
Cheers and laughters erupted from the speaker and you squint at the bright screen, finding the trio with shit-eating grins plastered on their faces.
“Shut up,” Iwaizumi groggily mumbles behind you, before pressing the red button and throwing your phone down to the floor.
Deciding to continue sleeping, you closed your eyes and pulled the soft covers up to your chin. The arm on your waist felt warm as it pulled you closer to a solid chest behind you-
Wait.
Behind you?
Arm on your waist?
Iwaizumi?
The scream that left your lungs can probably go down in the history of screams as you scrambled out of bed. You could feel your heart hammering on your chest and when your eyes landed on Iwaizumi’s tan skinned chest, the scream you were about to let out got stuck on your throat. When you met his eyes, he looked bored, grumpy and sleepy all at the same time.
You, Iwaizumi and Oikawa's cat. How chaotic and romantic will that be?
You see, I'm not the type of person who likes confrontations or arguments. In fact, I do my best to avoid such situations unless necessary. Why? Because they're exhausting. I must also admit that I'm not a saint. I can run out of patience, scream in frustration, and do many others that meant visibly expressing my emotions. I cry, as in my tear ducts producing tears by processing my bodily fluids into salty, fat tears. Just that I don't cry too often, and if I do, I make sure it's worth it by waiting until I reach the last strand of my sanity before crying, or on special occasions, from grave frustration. Contrary to popular belief, I do have emotions. I'm human, not a robot or an android, much to my friends' amusement and frustration.
I also believe that I'm rational. I think things through, over and over in my head, before doing whatever it is. I do my best not to act on impulse, and I do my best to remain respectful regardless of whoever I was dealing with.
It must be a wonder why I'm saying all this... Let's just say it all boils down to me reaching my maximum boiling point and doing something unexpected it started derailing my life until all hell broke loose.
Because there's a reason why I'm currently banging on the door of my neighbor at 1 a.m. on a Saturday morning, holding a cat between my arms, with mascara and tears streaming down my face.
There's a reason why I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes, why my legs ache from standing for hours, why my head is pounding from overuse and lack of sleep.
There's a thousand more reasons I could name why I'm doing something borderline crazy, like slam my fist on someone's door in the middle of the night, but at the moment, I didn't care whether I'd get the cops called on me.
Screw this cat. Screw this neighbor. Screw this fucking life because I am so fucking done.
I must have looked fresh from the deepest pits of hell because when the door swung open, the man on the other side jumped away, eyes wide in surprise.
Opening my mouth to speak, I find the string of disrespectful words clawing at my throat two seconds ago vanishing to thin air, leaving me opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water. Even my tears stopped the second I caught sight of the person on the other side, as though my brain stopped everything that's not involved with sight.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment, with the two of us locked in a stare-down, though technically, I wasn't... really looking at his eyes...
But honestly, who could blame me?
When I decided to storm up to my neighbor after seeing the crime scene in my apartment, I never really expected to find a half-naked greek god glaring down at me for interrupting his sleep. I mean, If I did, I wouldn't really do it with mascara-stained face or with clothes still from yesterday's. I could've cleaned up a little, at the very least.
Or whatever.
I balled my hands into fists to stop my train of thoughts.
Embarassed, warmth slowly crept up my cheeks as I sneaked a glance at the washboard abs seemingly gleaming even under the poor lighting from the nearest post.
"Shut up," I growled under my breath, but Mr. Greek God seemed to have heard, and he blinked himself awake, frowning at me.
"Excuse me?" he asked, confusion etched on his face as he continued to frown. When his eyes drifted down my arms, recognition seemed to finally dawn on him. "Why do you have Mr. Cuddles?" he asked, voice deep and gruff.
The snort came swift. Mr. Cuddles? Seriously?
"Oh, him?" you quipped, flashing the greek god a bright smile before giving the cat a back rub, "Mr. Cuddles, huh? Well, Mr.-" you paused, leaning to your right to glance at the nameplate, "-Iwaizumi, I would like to inform you that Mr. Cuddles has broken into my home and destroyed my apartment."
It took him ten seconds to react to my words. Ten seconds. I counted it in my head.
He froze, hand still holding the knob, before he visibly sagged and brought his hands up to wipe down his face. He groaned into his hands, the sound so deep the vibrations reverberated.
My eyes inavertedly shifted to his arms, strong and thick and sinewy as he raises one to run down his hair in visible frustration. The force of his glare was so potent that when he turned to look at me, my body flinched on impulse.
He'll kill me for waking him up was the first thought that ran through my head.
He frowned, silently watching me squirm under his heavy glare. Suddenly, he sighed, running a hand through his hair again. "Sorry," he grumbled. "It's not you I'm pissed at."
Is that why his hair's so spiky? It's short, too, so maybe it's the reason why it's sticking up. Too much running through it.
"Oh," I replied, surprised by his admission. "That's... good, I guess."
It took a good full minute of silence before any of us spoke, somehow focused on staring at anything besides the other.
"I'm just gonna go-"
"Wait here a sec-"
I stopped, motioning for him to go ahead.
"Go on," he replies, nodding his head at me.
"I-I'm just-" I began, cheeks reddening from embarassment when I stuttered. Good grief, why the hell am I stuttering? This was embarassing enough. Clearing my throat, I tried again.
"I'm gonna go. It's late," I tell him, jabbing a thumb towards my unit. As though he needed the information when he had been sleeping peacefully before you decided to disturb him, the cheeky devil in me snickered. Bowing slightly, I continued, "I'm sorry for disturbing you."
Without looking back up at him, I pivoted on my heels to go back to my apartment, but was pulled to a stop. Frozen in place, I turned to the hand on my arm, following it through a toned arm and up to a handsome face.
I knew he looked good, based from what I could make out from the dim lighting the nearby post provided, but out here, with more light illuminating his features, it truly made me wish the concrete would somehow open up and swallow me whole from sheer mortification.
Here I was, grimy, stressed and exhausted, with mascara and tears staining my face, while this man looks like he walked straight out of an Abercrombie billboard. He had dark locks of hair, spiky and cropped, a prominent nose that's a little crooked, probably broken once or twice, a strong jaw, and his eyes- they were green, but not much, more like a mix of brown and green- and they were beautiful. He is beautiful.
I could feel my breath get caught in my chest, at the same time my heart began thudding loudly. It physically hurt to look at this beautiful person, even in the poor light of a street lamp. I must've stared a little too long because he was frowning again, eyebrows scrunching together. "Y-yes?" I squeaked.
"The cat," he said, looking at my arms still crossed on my chest.
"The cat?" I repeated, following his gaze. I was met with a pair of blue eyes gleaming in the dark. I jumped, effectively pulling my arm out of his grasp. "Right! The cat!" I exclaimed, my nerves making me laugh.
"Sorry about that," I tell him as I shifted my hold on the cat, ready to pass it to his waiting arms.
All of a sudden, the cat hissed, quickly followed by a shout of pain as the cat jumped out of reach and ran straight back to my apartment. Before I could fully process what happened, Mr. Iwaizumi was hot on his tail, bolting down the hall towards my apartment.
"Wait!" I called after him, catching up as quickly as I could while he stood frozen by my doorstep.
Stopping at his side, I watched as his eyes slowly took in the state of my apartment, his expression getting dimmer and dimmer the longer he looked around.
To simply call it a mess was an understatement. From the scattered shoes, scratched sofa and pillows, ripped curtains, broken stems and shattered pots, you'd think this was a crime scene, with paw prints on soil as evidence.
You!" he barked, jolting me out of my reverie from the mess I call my apartment. I followed his line of sight, stopping at the slimy little bastard who caused this disaster.
We all froze, me, him and the cat, locked in a staredown before the cheeky demon, seemingly smirking at us from his high throne, thrust a paw at the sole survivor of his havoc, my domino cactus perched on my countertop, pushing it on its side. As the pot rolled side to side, Mr. Cuddles skipped away from view, leaving me and Mr. Iwaizumi holding our breath as the pot continued its motion.
"No!" I screamed when the pot started to teeter over the edge, slapping my hands over my eyes to save me from the heart-wrenching sight.
The sound of ceramic breaking didn't reach my ears. Instead, a loud groan echoed through the apartment, followed by a string of curses that filled the deafening silence of the night. It took me seconds before gaining the courage to sneak a peek. What I saw made my breath and my heart to stutter, feeling electrified by some current that made me feel all jittery inside.
Mr. Iwaizumi was lying down on the messy floor, hand outstretched and holding the plant safely in his hand.
Wait, the plant?
I watched as he used his free hand to push himself to a sitting position, groaning with the effort. Once seated, he took the pot with his other hand, hissing in pain as his palm is freed from the sharp thorns of the cactus.
"Shit," he cursed out loud, groaning as he flexed his right hand, assessing the damage the plant has done.
"Shit," I echoed.
-
I am back from the dungeons of life with this ancient draft I have on my notes. I know I still have works in progress but this one wanted to come out sooner than later. Thanks for stopping by!
Staring blankly at the front door, Ushijima wondered whether he'd be able make the right choice if given another chance.
He thought about what he'd do if time would turn back even for just a second because you slammed the front door just a second ago and now his world seems to be crumbling down while he stands frozen in place.
Was he wrong?
Was it a mistake to let you go when you could be with a man who would understand you, care for you, and cherish you better?
Was it wrong for him to want what's best for you even if it costs breaking your hearts?
Ushijima knows his limits the same way he knows his strengths; vivid, clear and familiar like the back of his hand.
Relationships, unlike volleyball, didn't simply require physical strength, stamina and logic. It demanded more from him, things he wasn't sure he could give and things he wasn't sure he even has in the first place.
After the short-lived relationships he had, all of them ending with "I'm sick of trying to love someone who can't love me back", he tried to steer clear of any romantic relationships because maybe they're right. He can't love other people and he doesn't know how to love other people.
But then he met you and by some miracle, stayed with him for almost three years.
Until tonight.
It was only at that point that he blinked, waking up from the slumber your departure induced.
He felt it then.
The splitting, aching, twisting pain in his chest that bloomed and spread until he was visibly shaking. He tried to breathe, tried to calm whatever rampage is going inside his chest when he realized there was wetness in his cheeks.
I don't need you.
The words felt like bullets shot straight to his heart, leaving him breathless as more tears flowed down his cheeks.
It was him who wanted to believe he didn't need you. It was him who wanted to convince himself that he didn't need someone to ask how his day went, that he didn't need someone to worry about him, that he didn't need someone who would accept him for who he is.
He took your affection in exchange for cold treatment and neglect, pushing and taunting until you break your own promise to love him no matter what.
I don't need you.
They were the last words he said to you before you left.
It was the biggest fucking lie Ushijima ever said.
Before he realized what he was doing, Ushijima found himself outside of his apartment, one foot shoeless as he scrambled after you.
He could hear how loud his heart was beating, how cold and stiff his limbs were from the nerves.
The red arrows pointing down in the elevator seemed to laugh at him as the number 2 repeatedly flashes. He runs for the stairs, skipping steps as much as he could. Everything was a blur until he throws himself out onto the street. He looked around, his eyes quickly scanning the vicinity but the rain was making it harder to see under the streetlights.
He shoves his hands in his hair, panic and despair settling down in his gut. There were already people looking at him, whispering by themselves but he didn't care.
He heads for the station, knowing you'd have to take the train to get to your apartment, and it was just in time that he sees you turn the corner.
Ushijima ran like his life depended on it, because as much as he denies and hides, it was the truth he was scared to face.
When he shouts your name, it was hoarse and raw as though it took all his strength to speak.
You barely just turned around before he was pulling you towards him, his shaking arms wounding around your frame.
"I'm so sorry," he tells you as he pressed his lips on the top of your head.
He could feel your body shake as you let out a sob he'll remember for the rest of his life. Taking your face in his hands, he lost count of how many apologies he whispered and sealed with his lips on your skin.
"I'm so tired, Toshi."
His heart shatters and air whooshes out of his lungs like he just received a spike in his abdomen.
"Please," he cries, trying his hardest not to fall apart.
He could feel you shake your head, could feel the tiny push you gave to pull away from him. "I don't want to fight anymore. I can't- Please, Toshi..."
"We won't. I promise," Ushijima cuts in, his voice surprisingly firm. "I'll try. We will work this out. We can work this out, right?"
"Please," he begs again and this time, he falls to his knees, strength leaving his body for the first time in his life. He felt so weak, utterly pitiful because he couldn't protect the only thing he should've protected in the first place.
He wanted to tell you so many things, words scrambling in his head but they wouldn't come out.
I was just so scared. I was scared by how much I needed you, how much I cared about you, how much I wanted you. I never cared for anyone else as much as I cared about you and it scares the hell out of me because I never felt this way with anyone else. Only you. Only with you.
Ushijima could feel the hand he was holding tremble and he gives it a light squeeze, urging you to look at him.
I am enamored by you. I yearn for you. With you, it felt like everything fell into place and I was just so scared so I pushed you away and hurt you.
He watched as your tears mix with raindrops, drawing short, shaky breaths to try and steady yourself. The grip you had on his hand is tight, enough to make him feel something, anything other than the void that grows inside him every second now.
"I think it's right that we let this love go, Wakatoshi. Losing myself once because of my love for you is enough and I am grateful you showed me that."
With your lips pressed softly against his, you whispered, "I will always love you, Wakatoshi," before you took a step back and turned.
He watched as you walked away and the only thing he could do then is let the rain take his tears and words away.
I feel like if the members find out that Ushijima was in a relationship, they will think he was joking, but at the same time they knew he wasn't the type to joke around, so they were like, "HOW?!"
They didn't even think he was capable of liking someone. All he cared about was volleyball, but apparently that wasn't the case. So when they finally got to meet his girlfriend, they will be shock by how small she was compared to Ushijima.
"You don't happened to be threatened by him, right?" The members know he wasn't really the type to threaten, but they knew others could mistaken his words that way that they couldn't help but ask.
"No, of course not. Why do you say so?" Y/n asked confused while Ushijima had a confused face as well. "Why would I do that?"
"N-Nothing..." The members will just shake their head as they tried to process everything.
Once they process everything, I feel like the members will be determined to help Ushijima out with his relationship since they didn't trust him when it comes to relationship. They wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding between Ushijima and y/n.
But they will soon see how pink the air between them is. Ushijima was so gentle with her and just looking at his eyes, there was no way y/n will think Ushijima doesn't love her anymore. They saw them hold their hands tightly as they walked around and Ushijima gently pulling her inward to avoid bumping into others. They even saw him smiling time to time as he listened to her. This side of Ushijima caused the members to rub their eyes in belief. "Are we seeing this right?"
He may have lost his memories, but you lost the love of your life.
prev // next
warnings: mentions of an accident, amnesia
•
When spring came, it truly felt like a breath of fresh air not just for Iwaizumi, but for you too. Somehow, the pain caused by the unfortunate incident that happened faintly ebbed in your heart, replaced by a calm hope that things would get better. After all, he finally remembers some snippets of your memories together.
He remembers a lot of things now, many of which are recent memories from the time you two met and some even just before the accident. Still, his recollection is more spontaneous much to your dismay and there were still days when he tends to shy away from your presence because he gets overwhelmed.
His slow recollection began last winter when you asked him to stay over when he walked you home drunk. Although the situation was mortifying, it served as a trigger for some of his memories to come back. He must’ve spent quite some time awake and alone in the apartment while waiting for you to wake up. To say it was awkward when you woke up was an understatement but the two of you threaded over it carefully. You were glad you weren’t hungover, at least not yet so when he told you he remembered a few things from his sudden visit at the apartment, you were somehow coherent to receive the news.
He remembered that you always slept on the right side of the bed, you prefer sunny side ups over scrambled, your favorite movie is Light Between the Oceans, and you have a tattoo on your collarbone. The last one he wasn’t sure which was why you were surprised when he yelled “it’s true” all of a sudden while you leaned down to reach for a plate.
At your questioning look, he explained, “I wasn’t sure whether you really had a tattoo on your collarbone or not.”
“Oh,” you exclaim, surprised.
“What does it say?”
You blinked, unsure for a split second before finding yourself pulling your shirt to the side, displaying the inscription of alis grave nil on your skin. “Nothing is heavy to those who have wings.”
You watch him look at the words engraved on your skin, his eyes bright with awe as though the ink on your skin is a piece of art. Fueled by his fascination, his fingers tentatively meet your skin slowly tracing over the letters. You can feel your heart race and the burst of cold coming from his fingertips made you take a shaky breath which disrupted whatever spell was cast between the two of you. He quickly pulled his hand away, coughing out an “I’m sorry” before taking a step back. He covered his face with his hand but he was blushing hard up to the tips of his ears there was nothing he could do.
“I have another one,” you told him, deciding to tease him some more. The second he turned his head back at you, you raised your shirt not giving him a chance to ask.
“Fuck!” he cursed and you felt his hands on yours, pulling them down together with your shirt. You didn’t know it would be possible for him to get redder than before. Unable to control it any longer, you threw your head back laughing. “What are you doing? Jesus!” he continued, sweeping a hand through his hair.
“I thought you were curious,” you explained in between laughter. Your laughter was cut short by a pounding in your head and you groaned, feeling the slow tell-tale of a migraine coming soon.
“I am, but you didn’t-“ he paused, “you don’t just-“
“Calm down. It’s not like it’s anywhere obscene or something. Besides, you’ve seen this so many times already…”
In a split second, the playful mood you had was gone, replaced by an awkward tension you never want to navigate ever again. Thankfully, you never have to because before you could apologize, Iwaizumi beat you to it.
“Show me.”
Surprised, you looked up, wondering whether you heard him wrong or not. You search his face for confirmation, some sign to assure you that it wasn’t just some hallucination, and when your eyes meet his, you knew it was real.
“Show me,” he says again.
You could feel from his words the need, the hunger… for what you didn’t know. With trembling hands, you pull your shirt up just until the bottom of your bra could be seen.
You watch as he read the words on your skin, once and then once more, tracing the letters with his eyes and then with his mouth before a shaky breath leaves his lips. When his fingers meet your skin this time, they burn with the kind of warmth you want to brand on your skin the same way the words are. Forever.
Dazed, you almost missed the words he uttered before meeting your eyes.
“Stars don’t sparkle…” he whispered, like he was saying the words more to himself than to you.
You opened your mouth to speak but words and your voice eluded you in that moment, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at that point because all you could think about was that he knows. He knows and he remembers and maybe this is just the start of things he will remember, but he knows and he remembers. You could feel the tears fill your eyes and before they could fall, you hear him say the words that meant everything.
Iwaizumi’s sins cost him the one thing he didn’t want to fuck up. Yet he still did.
Oikawa can count on one hand the actual times he punched Iwaizumi in the face. This was one of them. And it wasn’t just once that he did.
This is the story of how Iwaizumi fucked up so bad Oikawa had no choice but to step in and save the day. And whether it’ll be a happy ending or not, it’s all up to you.
I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS STORY!!!!!! Its so timely in my life that I kept crying reading the last few chapters :<<<<<< I LOVE THIS!!! I LOVE HOW THEY BOTH MATURED THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE STORY!!!! IM CRYING I LOVE THIS!!! FOREVER WILL BE MY GO TO FIC WHEN IM LOST <3333333333333333333
You're gonna make me cry 🥹🥹 I'm legit happy my story left an impact and made you this happy. I've been feeling down because I'm swamped with work and I haven't spent much time on tumblr but seeing your message reminded me of why I am writing. Thank you so much ❤️
He may have lost his memories, but you lost the love of your life.
prev // next
warnings: mentions of an accident, amnesia
•
When winter came, Iwaizumi could feel its drag in his bones day after day that he spent inside the house. He was feeling restless, but he didn't feel like going out, contented to be left alone with his thoughts for almost a week now. He felt like something was clawing at his brain trying to come up to the surface but he didn't know what. He was anxious and frustrated, spending each day trying to figure out what his brain was trying to tell him.
He was at his wits end, now angry and depressed, when the phone rings at 10 pm on Friday. Looking at his phone, he debated whether to answer the call or not since it was an unregistered number. When the call didn't drop after a few seconds, he decides to accept the call.
"Hello?"
"Hello? Is this Iwaizumi Hajime?" the caller asks.
"Yes. Who is this?" He replies.
The man on the other line explains that he works at the local pub by the train station and that Iwaizumi's name was placed as an emergency contact on a woman's phone.
"Who?" Iwaizumi asks, trying to think of a woman who would set him as an emergency contact other than his mother.
When the caller says your name, it doesn't immediately ring a bell. It lingers in his brain as it patches up memories of you. He remembers the name plate pinned on your apron, the way children call you Iwaizumi-sensei, and by some miracle, an image of you smiling as the wind blows your hair back.
"Hello, Mr. Iwaizumi? Hello? Are you still there?" He heard the caller say over the phone, making him jump.
"Y-yes. Yeah, still here."
"Yes, well, we're calling to ask if you could pick her up now? We've tried sending her home but it’s not safe..." the man says, sounding distressed even on line.
Iwaizumi doesn't remember how he responded to the man, just that he was on his way out of the house when he realized it. The local pub was fifteen minutes away from his place, but he made it in seven. His breathing was ragged and his heart hammers inside his chest from the sudden activity.
As he walked closer to the entrance, his heart thrummed for a different reason as anxiety and excitement blooms in his chest at the thought of seeing you again. It has been weeks since he visited the center. He doesn't understand why his thoughts keep on drifting to you every day, so he asks the people around him, his mother, Oikawa and Matsukawa, who supplied information but didn't quell the burning in his brain to get to know you.
Opening the door, he finds an empty bar except for an employee behind the counter and a figure slumped over a table.
It reminded him of the first time he saw you back at the hospital. He had just woken up, groggy and so light-headed that he couldn't feel his body aside from the weight pressing on his hand. Turning to it, he finds you slumped on the hospital bed, your hand wrapped around his. Panic falls over him as his head fills with a multitude of questions, beginning with Where was he? What happened? Who are you?
He was gasping for air, wild panic blooming in his chest and spreading around through his bloodstream before a loud beeping sound echoes around the room. You bolted upright, eyes wide as they land on him, and in a split second, you've pressed the call button for medical help.
Iwaizumi shakes his head to clear the memories away, finding the time inappropriate to reminisce.
The man behind the counter walks up to him, a look of relief etched in his face. "Mr. Iwaizumi?" He asks, and Iwaizumi nods in reply. "Right! Well, if you could just show me an ID, please. That would be great."
Iwaizumi thinks it was good protocol to ask for an ID before handing over an inebriated woman to someone else, and as he thought about the possibility of someone else with bad intentions picking you up, his heart dropped to his stomach as it fills with dread. It felt like instinct when anger burns from the tips of his fingers down to his toes, and he swore right then and there that he'd kill whoever harms even a strand of your hair.
After the employee checks his ID, he gives Iwaizumi the signal to finally approach you. He could see your chest rising and falling to a slow rhythm indicating that you fell asleep. His feet take him to the seat beside you, settling down as he peers at you in a closer distance.
Long lashes almost touching your cheeks. A beauty mark at the tip of your nose. Red, chapped lips slightly open. Dark hair softly framing your face, flowing down your back. Thin, long fingers wrapped around your elbow. He could see the gold band on your ring finger twinkle against the dim lights of the bar and felt his heart twinge. You were definitely attractive. Even now, when his memory betrays him, he finds himself holding his breath as he stares at you, wondering how the hell he could forget that he is married to someone like you.
For three months after he regained consciousness, you stayed by his side. You bring him fresh clothes, prepare his meals, give him company most of the day, but when the doctor gave the news that he might not recover his memories any longer, your parents decided it was time to let you go. It was more for your sake than his, acknowledging the fact that you were still young and at the height of your career as a civil worker. They didn't want to hold you back with the baggage their son has now become.
It was the truth he acknowledged himself but he felt conflicted nevertheless.
Yes, your expectations of his memory coming back weighed heavily on him. Yes, he couldn't shake off his confusion when you remind him every day that you are his wife, followed by a serious of questions of how you met and how long and many, many more. Yes, he felt relieved at the thought of having no one expect nor hope he would get better because he had no confidence he will. Yet he felt emptier when he turns to his side and find no one sitting there with a book perched on their lap. He felt more alone even when his parents and friends visit because they wouldn't talk to him about Godzilla and new ice cream flavors. Lastly, he missed the food you bring him because for some reason, everything else tastes bland to him. The last one he wouldn't dare voice out because his mother would kill him.
"Hey," he calls, his voice barely above a whisper. His next words lodged themselves in his throat, somehow scared to be voiced out. 'Let's go home' seemed too close, too intimate, and inaccurate at the moment. First, because the label between the two of you blurs along the lines of strangers, acquaintance, friends and lovers that he doesn't really know how to talk and act with you. Second, because he doesn't come home to the apartment you shared together. 'Let's go home' would mean acknowledging the home he was supposed to cherish with you and it made him feel unworthy of saying those words because he cannot recall a single memory of staying there. Despite this, he knows the location of the apartment complex you lived in, having Oikawa and Makki point it out to him whenever they go out.
He could feel you rise from your slumped position on the table, watched as you blink through the fog of sleep and drunkenness. It took you a second too long to recognize him, caught staring in disbelief at the sight of him. Groaning, you pressed a hand on your face, mumbling a curse he didn't fully hear.
"I'm so sorry." He heard you say, but you were turned away from him, busying yourself with your bag. After unhooking it from the back of your chair, you attempted to stand up only to sway on your feet and fall back on your seat.
On your second attempt, he reached out to hold you by the elbow and you were successful in standing up.
"I'm okay," you tell him, trying to pry his hand off of you, but you were too weak to actually put force into it. Also, he couldn't really risk having you stand on your own when you're swaying on your own two feet.
You were still turned away from him, combined with your hair covering your face so he couldn't see the expression you were making but a sniffle and the tremble of your shoulders made it known that you were crying. He felt his heart give a small twinge from the guilt of putting you through this, but he doesn't know how to get better when there's no cure for a memory loss.
It was difficult to walk, even with him holding you by the elbow, so Iwaizumi decided to wrap an arm around you, practically holding you up as he presses you tight by his side. You were shaking, shoulders trembling from the silent tears he caused but didn't know how to stop. The bartender gives him a pitying smile as he ushers you out, probably already heard bits and pieces of his accident in their small community.
He couldn't really dwell on it when he felt you press your head on his shoulder, seeking refuge as the cold winter draft welcomes the two of you. It would be stupid to ask if you were okay, so he kept his mouth shut. Unconsciously, he places his hand on your head, smoothing your hair to provide comfort as your tears continue to soak through his coat.
He waited, waited and waited until you calmed down, your sobs softening to the occasional sniffle, all the while providing the little comfort he could give by standing firm and smoothing out your hair. Once he was confident that you were done crying, he asked if you'd be okay to get on his back so he can carry you to your house. A simple nod and a soft 'I'm sorry', was your only response. Still, he got on his hunches, allowing you to maneuver around him. When he knew you were holding on to him tight, he stood up and began making his way to the apartment complex two blocks away.
As he walked, the sound of his footsteps and your occasional sniffles were the only sounds filling in the silence, yet he felt more comfortable than he ever did before. Even when a cold draft winds its way, he felt warmer. He could feel the anxiety, stress and frustration pent up inside him during the past few days dissipate, banished by the warmth wrapped around him. He wondered how he could find peace at this time, when he could still feel his shoulder catch the tears falling from your eyes.
The walk to your house didn't take long, and he was bewildered to find himself feeling disappointed with it. If anything, he wanted to have more time with you and the comforting warmth he couldn’t find elsewhere.
As the two of you stand in front of your door, he could feel the anxiety creep back in and he was so, so close to begging you to stay for just a few more minutes when you beat him to it.
"Is it okay if I ask you to stay?" you asked, your chin trembling as tears streamed down your cheeks again. You laughed, wiping them quick only for new drops to retrace the marks.
"I-I've sobered up, and I just- I really don't want to be alone tonight. Just for tonight. If that's- I mean- only if it's-" You stopped, struggling to inhale as a sob escaped, and when you smiled up at him as tears streamed down your face, he knew he would never make a different choice no matter the consequences.
I’m back lol. This chapter was getting longer so I had to post it now. Thank you so much for taking an interest in this story. Let me know your thoughts about it and see you next month!
My heart literally stopped when Ushijima wearing eyeglasses popped up in my head. You all need to picture this in your mind and engrave it in your hearts forever because I did.
He may have lost his memories, but you lost the love of your life.
prev // next
warnings: mentions of an accident, amnesia
•
stars don’t sparkle
He stares at the unfamiliar words written in a yellow sticky note by his study table, the one he used since middle school. He remembers a small series of the long nights he spent sitting there, trying his best to cram into his head the lectures he neglected because of volleyball practice. He remembers the table, now a bit too small for him, with all its scratches and faded paint, and his heart settles as he realizes that this is a familiar space. He was home, and not somewhere else.
Knowing this gave him a sense of calm, his senses slowing down. Every day, for six months now, Iwaizumi has been waking up with massive anxiety not until he remembers where he was.
Every day, he had to remember that his walls were painted midnight blue and that his curtains are black because he likes to sleep in the dark.
Every day, he had to remember that his table and shelves were painted white because that's the only color he could tolerate to pair with his walls.
Every day, he had to remember the people in the photographs by his bedside, now labelled with names, dates and a short description to aid his failure of a memory. The only exception were his parents, who were somehow saved from the pain of getting erased from their son's memory. He lists of the names one by one in his head, Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Kindaichi, Kunimi, Hinata, Kageyama, Ushijima, Kuroo... The list goes on and on but his mind wouldn't cooperate so he stops.
He sighs, sagging on his bed as he inhales long to ease the ache in his head. They tell him it wasn't his fault, that it was a terrible accident, that he shouldn't force himself but every time he forgets their name and sees their eyes fill with sadness and pain, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was still his fault they were hurting.
As he sat there with his eyes closed, he remembered that a photograph was taken off his list to remember two weeks ago when you came by to drop off some of his things left in your shared apartment. Things he didn't remember having but you insisted they were his before taking some of the things he also didn't remember having like that photograph, a bunch of novels previously on his study table and a wedding ring.
Before he knew what he was doing, his right hand grasps at the now empty ring finger on his left. He feels a slight twinge in his heart as he remembers how awful it must have been to separate from your loved one while they don't remember anything about you nor the time you shared together. Awful doesn't even cover it, he realizes.
With the memory of your eyes shining with unshed tears as he passes you the ring, Iwaizumi thinks he deserves to be burned in the lowest pits of hell for inflicting this much pain to everyone who loved him.
After his accident, he spent two months recuperating in the hospital before he was given the approval for physical therapy. Physical therapy is nothing compared to the emotional pain he was causing his family and friends. He knew all of them deserves better but he can't and he doesn't know how to get better when he all he does every day is try to remember but he still comes up blank. To compensate, going to physical therapy was his remedy to at least be independent in his day to day life so his parents can go back to their respective work which is why he dedicated another two months to become physically fit once more. Unfortunately, he needed two more months under observation before he was allowed to go home. It took longer than expected, but he was glad it paid off now that he doesn't need constant observation and assistance. Regardless of his progress, his mother decided to retire from her work so she can watch over him, a decision he didn't want her to make but accepted nonetheless.
He could hear his mother making noise in the kitchen as the day starts and Iwaizumi stands up after a while to begin his day. It took a while to convince his parents to allow him to go out on his own, scared at the fact that he might not remember his address but all of them, including him, were surprised when he was able to cite every corner and streets on the way to their house from the train station. He could even remember his way around the town going to the supermarket, the temple and to Seijoh. It's muscle memory, Oikawa jokes.
His day went on as usual, with him helping out around the house in the morning before going out in the afternoon. The doctor said it would be better to expose himself to things that could trigger his memory rather than stay at home, but Iwaizumi almost always just go around the same place every time he goes out, letting the hours pass as he sits by a bench on the riverside. When his phone beeps to remind him that it's four in the afternoon, he begins to make his way home.
He must've spaced out and turned at a wrong corner today as he finds himself standing in front of a yellow building with children littered across its lawn. The building seemed familiar, but he knew this wasn't his way home. He could feel his stomach drop as anxiety starts to creep in and he was about to turn and trace his way back before he heard someone say his name.
"It's Mr. Iwaizumi!" A shrill voice calls, making him turn towards its direction. His eyes land at a young girl waving her hands up frantically, flashing a toothy-grin with a gap from a missing tooth. Iwaizumi blinks, trying hard to remember if he knew this girl or not but he comes up none.
"Hey," he greets back, trying to smile as he forced his heart to calm down, "I'm sorry, but I forgot your name, little miss."
To his surprise, the child giggles instead, not the least bit offended or hurt that he doesn't know her name even when she was greeting him enthusiastically.
"You called me little miss before," she says, surprising Iwaizumi. "My name is Saya. I'm four," she continues, flashing him four fingers. "I know what you have, Mr. Iwaizumi!"
He didn't even have to ask before she was talking again.
"Mommy said you have amisia, so you forgot a lot of things. Even my name," she explains as though Iwaizumi needed anymore explanation to his condition. He wondered who her mother was and how good she was to be able to clearly explain amnesia to a child as young as this. Amnesia was what he wanted to say to correct her but before he could reply, another child, this time a boy, latches on to his leg, catching him off guard.
"Mr. Iwaizumi, save me! Don't let sensei take me away!" The boy cries, all the while grinning as he holds on tight to his leg.
Iwaizumi was beyond surprised at the way things were unfolding that he couldn't form a reply. Rather, his brain was so busy trying to answer the questions flooding his brain like how do they know him? how are they so comfortable that they latch on to his leg to escape their teacher? how do they know each other when he swears he's never seen these children all his life?
The child on his leg rushes behind him, this time pulling on his shirt as he peeks at someone in front. Iwaizumi turns to the direction the boy was looking and his breath gets caught in his chest like he forgot to breathe. Funny because he forgot about everything, now he forgets even simple bodily functions like breathing.
You were stomping your way over to his small group, a small frown etched on your face as your eyes zone in on the boy. When your eyes flickered up to meet his, you freeze in your steps, surprised before a look of hurt flashes quickly on your features before schooling them to a neutral one. When you finally reached his small group, you bowed awkwardly, greeting him with a smile that didn't reached your eyes.
"Saya, Jiro, did you greet Mr. Iwaizumi properly?" you turn to the kids, while Iwaizumi felt a slight chill when his name rolled off your tongue like it didn't feel right when you were calling him that.
"I did!" Saya pipes up. The boy kept quiet, settling in a solemn mood now that his teacher was by his side. "Good afternoon, Mr. Iwaizumi," he mumbles, bowing his head down for a timid bow.
"G-good afternoon," Iwaizumi greets back, charmed by the children's antics. He tentatively places his hand on the boy's head, and he was gifted by a beaming smile instead.
"Good job, Jiro! You too, Saya!" You cheered, smiling at the children who beamed in return. "Now, why don't we head on inside so Mr. Iwaizumi can go on his way home?"
The children didn't have much choice as their teacher ushers them to head back inside, but not before waving goodbye to Iwaizumi who did the same, watching them until they disappear behind the door of the daycare center. With the children gone, silence fell upon the two of you, letting the seconds pass as you look at each other.
Clearing your throat, you were the first to break the silence.
"You look better," you tell him with a smile that reaches your eyes this time, but your eyes fill with sadness that threatens to suffocate him so he looks away. His actions must've been evident to you because you clear your throat again. This time, it was your turn to look away despite him not seeing. "Take the nearest left turn on your way back and you'll find the convenience store near your place. Get home safe, Iwaizumi."
At the mention of his name, he looked up, but you were already walking away as quickly as your legs could go, as though he was some timebomb ready to explode. Just like what he did with the kids, he watched as you disappeared behind the door but lingered longer as he recalls the name plate pinned on your apron.
Iwaizumi-sensei
Since then, like an itch that would never go away, Iwaizumi simply finds his way back to the center on his way home from his daily walks. It took him a while to get to know the children's names again, which they happily supplied together with various information like their favorite color, toys, TV shows, food and games. The concept of a completely wiped out memory seemed fascinating to them like they were ecstatic at the thought of having to tell someone something over and over again but is always willing to listen.
He had fun when he talks to the children, his visits always matching the time they play outside while the teachers supervise. The headmistress was kind enough to allow him his daily visits, saying an extra pair of eyes watching the children outside was very much welcome. When she asked how Iwaizumi found his way to the daycare, muscle memory is the only thing that slips out of his mouth which made the woman laugh.
On the other hand, his visits seemed to affect you negatively. He would often see you distracted or dazed whenever he sneaks glances at you and even as he watches you in his peripheral view. The evident change in your physical appearance also seem to draw attention not just from your co-workers, but also from the parents who've come to pick up their children.
One time, when he was standing near the entrance waving goodbye to Jiro, he overheard you shrugging off a parent's concern asking about your declining health. He watched as the woman's eyes slide to him before gently giving your arm a squeeze and a pitying smile. Despite the gnawing guilt in his stomach, he felt angry then, more at himself than at the woman who was simply concerned with your health, because he knew all along that it was his fault. Everything was his fault.
He never went back to the daycare ever since that day.
prev // next
-
a/n: Part 2 will be posted some time next month. (I am back! Hopefully with more angst this time lol This idea popped up in my head two nights ago and cried while writing it. Thank you and enjoy reading! xoxo)
Iwaizumi’s sins cost him the one thing he didn’t want to fuck up. Yet he still did.
Oikawa can count on one hand the actual times he punched Iwaizumi in the face. This was one of them. And it wasn’t just once that he did.
This is the story of how Iwaizumi fucked up so bad Oikawa had no choice but to step in and save the day. And whether it’ll be a happy ending or not, it’s all up to you.
Slowly, you opened your eyes to see Hajime standing by your side, the car door wide open. You blinked against the sudden assault of lights, groaning as you unfastened the seatbelt. Now free from the restraint, you let your head rest on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.
"I'm exhausted," you complained with a sigh.
"I know," Hajime replied, tightening his arms around you. "Just a little more, then you can go sleep."
"I'm hungry."
"Then we'll eat first before resting," he said, chuckling.
It was finally the weekend of your return to Tokyo, a month after your reunion with Hajime back in Onomichi. With so many things to do and catch up on, you decided it was best to move back to Tokyo, especially in your condition, but not without properly leaving things behind in Onomichi. It was time you fought so hard to get after revealing to your friends about your pregnancy, despite their initial shock, disbelief (Oikawa's, mainly), and awe (Matsukawa's entirely). Hajime was busy crying, his head on your belly as he knelt down on the floor that night (It was too much for him to take that he ran a fever the next day, much to the delight and pleasure of Tooru and Makki).
It's not like you were never coming back there. The place and the people wormed their place in your heart, never to be forgotten and never to be replaced. After all, you wouldn't be where you are now if it wasn't for the people there, specially Sanae who promised to visit for the holidays. You were secretly hoping you could convince her to stay with you in Tokyo for good, having already voiced your idea with Hajime. He was skeptical at first, aware of the elder's stubborness and independence, but remained supportive of you knowing how much you cared for her. The people in town were kind-hearted, but there's only so much they could do for Sanae. In the city, access to necessities for someone her age, regardless of her insistence, would be easier. There will be tons more of the advantages of staying in Tokyo, but for now, with your growing bump and a sky-high list of things to do and prepare, your plot would have to sit back on your mind for a bit.
Raising your head, you blinked at the sight in front of you, before frowning in confusion.
"Hajime, this isn't our apartment," you whined, pouting at the fact that he woke you up when you weren't even in your apartment yet.
"It isn't," he agreed, which only made your confusion worse.
Pushing him away to properly look at him, you frowned when you saw him smiling at your expense.
"Why did you wake me up when we aren't home yet?"
His smile only got bigger as he replied, "We are home."
You rolled your eyes in annoyance. So much for being woken up when you're exhausted, hungry, and aching from head to toe.
Hajime found your reaction adorable, so he couldn't help but laugh. Placing a kiss at the top of your head, he whispered, "This isn't our apartment, but this is our home."
"I don't get you," you grumbled.
"It's just as I've said. This isn't our apartment, but this is our home," he repeated.
"We don't even live here," you snapped.
"Not yet," he shot back.
Sighing, you closed your eyes, willing yourself to relax and breathe. Maybe he was too tired. It was a work day and then he had to pick you up from the airport and drive back home. Maybe he was too hungry.
For many seconds, you were quiet as Hajime waited for you to process whatever it is he was saying. You stared at the two-storey building in front of you, wondering what in the world your husband is saying. The house was elegant and simple at the same time, looking like something that came out of a magazine, but still looks warm and inviting. Your eye caught on something to the side of the house and you gasped, surprised at what you saw.
"Hajime, look! They have a greenhouse!" you couldn't help but to exclaim.
The only reply you got was his loud laughter, so you pinched his side for him to stop. "Don't laugh at me! I love greenhouses!" you protested, patience thinning out at his actions. It didn't help that you were an emotional train wreck nowadays.
"I do know, which is why I worked hard on building it," Hajime said with a wide grin on his face. You blinked, wondering what he meant by that before the pieces finally clicked in your head.
He built it.
This is our home.
This isn't our apartment.
Live here.
Our home.
"Oh god," you breathed, voice trembling. It's not just your voice, apparently, because as Hajime held your hand, that was when you realized your whole body was shaking. "Please tell me I'm not dreaming," you whispered under your breath quickly, making Hajime laugh once more. He yelped when you pinched him again.
"You're not dreaming, and stop pinching me."
"Just wanted to make sure," you replied, sniffling.
Smiling softly, Hajime reached out and wrapped his arms around you once more. "So, do you like it?"
You nodded as a reply, holding him just as tightly as you were occupied with the tears continuously flowing from your eyes. As you blinked the tears away, you saw something that wasn't there seconds ago.
"I'm not sure whether I'm hallucinating, but I just saw Tooru run out from the front door," you told Hajime.
"Is he running towards us?"
"He is," you replied, just in time before Tooru throws himself at a well-prepared Hajime who took all the blunt force because you didn't feel any of it from Tooru's entrance.
"I missed you guys!" Tooru screamed. "You've been out here for too long! Stop making Yuki cry and just come in already!"
"This isn't your house, Tooru," Hajime grumbled, shrugging him off.
"If it's yours, then it's mine, too," Tooru quipped, helping you out of the car.
"Fat chance, you idiot. We're not married."
"You owe me your first born," Tooru shot back, only to jump at the shriek you let out.
"Shut up!" you cried, turning red in shame within seconds.
"Oh, no regrets, really. I'd offer my house over and over as long as you two end up back together," Tooru said in a reassuring tone, as though it was something you need to be reassured about.
"Tooru, please," you begged.
"Anyways, it's here now, so whatever."
"What do you mean it's here now?" Hajime, who was walking behind the two of you, asked.
As if to answer his question, the three of you watched as Matsukawa sprinted before throwing his body down a thick white mattress on your living room. When he saw the three of you standing by the doorway, he waved, before Hanamaki landed beside him, yelling, "Hey, Oikawa! Your mattress is so soft!"
The grin on Tooru's face was so maniacal you felt goosebumps.
Iwaizumi’s sins cost him the one thing he didn’t want to fuck up. Yet he still did.
Oikawa can count on one hand the actual times he punched Iwaizumi in the face. This was one of them. And it wasn’t just once that he did.
This is the story of how Iwaizumi fucked up so bad Oikawa had no choice but to step in and save the day. And whether it’ll be a happy ending or not, it’s all up to you.
"I-I can't-" you paused, cracking up and shaking from too much laughter.
"Stop laughing, Yuki! I will push you down this road if you weren't my best friend," Oikawa grumbled with an eyeroll. His face was red, making you laugh harder. At the sight of you laughing your ass off again, he couldn't help the loud groan coming out of him before stomping his way far from you.
"I'm sorry-Oikawa, please, just-" you inhaled, sucking air back into your suffering lungs because of too much laughter.
The scenario was just too crazy and borderline hilarious. Something only an Oikawa Tooru would think of. Matsukawa and Hanamaki, sure, but to think, even the Iwaizumi Hajime would get dragged into it, though. You could only shake your head at the thought, rather, the reality.
"It was Tooru's idea," Hajime spat.
"Evidently," you, Hanamaki and Matsukawa agreed.
Sanae raised an eyebrow so high it was close to her hairline.
You were sitting in Sanae's dinner table, after the disastrous and hilarious meet-up back at the airport. You were recounting the story of how you chanced upon the two of them at the arrival area, only to hear Tooru's grand and elaborate plan for you and Hajime's reconciliation, involving some ridiculous fireworks and flowers. Tooru sat in his place, a dark shade of red on his face and neck, shamed beyond repair.
"Totally ridiculous," Sanae mused with a shake of her head. "I'm disappointed. I thought you know her more than anyone else, Tooru. She hates those things."
"See? Even Sanae-san knows!" Hajime chimes in.
"I get it, okay? So will you please stop attacking me now, and focus on the more important matter?" Tooru insisted, looking close to actual tears. Taking pity on him, you sighed before saying, "Sure. What is this important matter you're so eager to talk about?"
"You and Hajime, of course! You're back together, right? I mean, all of us here are pretending not to notice your hands are permanently glued to each other under the table, but this makes it official, right?"
The heat that broke out your face was so evident, even a five-year old would catch your embarassment. You turned to Hajime, couldn't help smiling softly as he turned to you at the same time.
"Well then, we’ll stop pretending," Hajime counters as he lifted your linked hands and placed them on the table.
Matsukawa and Sanae laughed, while Hanamaki and Oikawa simply rolled their eyes.
Three months flew by since the day you went back to Tokyo. Three months spent on nothing but longing and yearning and missing for the one you love, while you healed your heart and soul. Three months spent on growing as an individual, as a person who can love and live after being broken. Three months on forgiving and atoning for the burdens of your heart, hoping that when that day comes, you'll be ready to love him again and this time, to love him at your best.
"God forbid," Oikawa groaned. "I guess it's official?"
With a smile on your face and determination in your heart, you replied, "Yes."
"Yuki," Hajime whispered. "Come and walk with me."
Looking up from your seat, you frowned, but followed nonetheless. Sneaking a glance at the other three men occupied with Sanae's storytelling, he took your hand and silently made your way out of the house. The hand you were holding was cold, making you frown deeper.
"What's wrong?" you asked, worried. "Is your stomach upset? Headache?"
Hajime shook his head, chuckling. "I'm fine, just tired, I guess."
"Tired? Then shouldn't you head to bed than go walk?"
"No!" he cried. "I mean, it's fine. I just-the stars! I want to see the stars. It's lovely here. The night is beautiful," he said, rambling.
"Are you sure? You seem fidgety to me," you asked, uncertain.
"I'm sure," he replied adamantly.
Taking him for his word, you conceded, walking beside him quietly. For a while, the two of you were silent, basking in the sky filled with bright stars and listening to the silent sway of the leaves. Occasionally, when your shoulder would bump on his arm, he squeezes your hand he was holding before smiling softly. It made your heart skip and filled your stomach with butterflies.
You must've been walking for a ridiculously long time because a familiar light caught your attention. You blinked, wondering if you were right or not. Maybe fifteen minutes more or less, and you'll reach the place.
"Wanna go back?" Hajime cuts through your haze.
"No!" you exclaimed, surprising him. "Let's continue just for a little more."
"We've walked for a long time now. Your feet are not aching yet?"
"I'm fine. Don't worry about me," you replied. "Let's keep going?"
-
"What is this place?" Hajime wondered, eyes roaming all over the place.
"The Ribbon Chapel. It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"It is," he replied just as quickly, still in awe at the sight in front of him.
You watched, waited for him to get his fill of the view before offering your hand to him. When he took it, you gave him a soft smile before leading him outside and into the staircases.
"Sanae introduced me to this place," you began, your voice mixing with the rustle of the leaves and splash of the waves as the two of you started to make your way up. "It was a difficult time then. I was just so angry and exhausted. I didn't even want to think. All I wanted was to cry and forget about everything."
"This place enlightened me. Taught me so much even without words and actions. Showed me that even after everything that has happened, you and I are the same. That we're still together, even when we're thousands of miles apart."
"Regardless of the right and wrong, what matters is the love we have for each other because if that love is not strong enough to withstand any challenges life throws at it, then it will collapse. We got close, but we survived, right?"
As you reached the landing, Hajime kept his hold on your hand even as you loosened your hold to grip the railing. You smiled, giving his hand a light squeeze as he kissed the top of your head.
Up here, it felt so surreal, almost like a dream because of how beautiful and warm it made you feel. Everything felt like a dream, but you knew it was reality because you felt the tears fall down your cheek.
"You see, Sanae was married," you continued, sniffling lightly as the tears continue. "She didn't want me to live with the same regrets as she does, so she guided me. Helped me. Encouraged me. She supported me as I healed myself from my mistakes. I owe it all to her that I have you back."
"I owe her, too," Hajime said, grinning as he wiped your tears away.
You sniffled, trying your best to calm down. "For what?"
"For taking you in, helping you, guiding you. For telling me about this place," Hajime declared proudly. "She said, go take a walk going east," he added, chuckling.
Taking a step back, he grinned at you as he wiped another tear away before going down on one knee. You only had a second to inhale before sobs started wracking your shoulders and another second later, Hajime was on his feet, holding you to him as tight as he could.
"I live for you, Yuki," he whispered. "Will you take me back?"
You nodded, choked up with tears and emotion as you wrapped your arms around him just as tightly. "I'm the same," you managed, smiling wobbly up at him. "I love you, Hajime."
As he lifted your hand towards him, another sniffle could be heard behind you and you turned, blinking away the tears only to find three grown men with puffy eyes crying with an old woman who had a smug smile on her face. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of them, sharing a laugh with Sanae as Hajime started tearing up, too.
"Oh god, Hajime! Not you too!" you laughed, wiping his cheeks dry.
You watched as he struggled to get the words out, only to give up and instead, kiss your forehead before sliding the ring on your finger.
"I love you," he whispered after kisses, again and again as you laughed and cried and hugged.
It took a while for all of you to calm down, since Sanae only started crying when all of you were done, which started another round of crying and laughing and hugging. The warmth you were feeling made it seem like you were floating up in the sky, weightless to be flown away by the cool breeze. It was on your way down when you remembered.
"Oh, right! I forgot to ask!" you exclaimed, making all of them turn to you. With all the seriousness you could muster, you asked, "Iwaizumi Hajime, will you take us back?"
As if in slow motion, all the men blinked before their foreheads started creasing in confusion.
"Us?" Oikawa queried.
"Yup!" you chirped, placing a hand on your belly. "Us."
You watched as their eyes followed your hand, taking a solid minute before their faces showed any hint of confirmation.
"Good god," Matsukawa breathed.
"I'm going to faint," Tooru gasped, leaning on the railing beside him.
As if to deliver a finishing blow, Sanae chimed in, "She's three months pregnant!"
"I will fucking kill you, Iwaizumi Hajime!" Hanamaki growled.
then • now • next
a/n: Hey, guys! This is it! The last chapter for something I did on a whim, but became so much more as I went through with it. Up next is the epilogue, but first, I want to thank the people who sent positive feedback on this work, being this as my first work inspired by the Ribbon Chapel in Onomichi I saw on George Clarke's Amazing Spaces (geeky, I know). It was a small spark that brought me happiness with all your kindness, so thank you very much!
I hope we all find that our hearts are light and our shoulders free from any burden.
Iwaizumi’s sins cost him the one thing he didn’t want to fuck up. Yet he still did.
Oikawa can count on one hand the actual times he punched Iwaizumi in the face. This was one of them. And it wasn’t just once that he did.
This is the story of how Iwaizumi fucked up so bad Oikawa had no choice but to step in and save the day. And whether it’ll be a happy ending or not, it’s all up to you.
Maybe getting bodily slammed by a big man like Matsukawa wasn't the best way to get woken up, regardless of what happened hours before.
You coughed, keening forward as the force of his weight slammed all the air out of your lungs. Pandemonium ensued before you could even inhale oxygen back to your woozy head. Pushing the blanket off your head, you glared at the statue of idiots, one on the floor by your side and the other by the door, both of them with wide eyes and gaping mouths.
Hiro screamed. Issei fell flat on his back.
On your side, Hajime groaned, curling his body around your waist using the arm he has around it. He blinked, lifting his head enough to see Hiro standing by the door.
No one was speaking until Mattsun, in his most intimidating voice broke the silence. "I'm giving you two seconds to explain," he gritted out.
Then came Makki. "Fuck that. It's your last day, Iwaizumi Hajime."
"Not a fucking word," Makki warned you a little while later, after they were able to calm down enough to be civil and bring the interrogation to a decent location, specifically Tooru's kitchen.
You gaped, taken aback at his words and tone. A placating hand on your arm stopped your complaints, and you turn to see Mattsun shaking his head. With a sigh, you swallowed your words and sagged on your seat with a roll of your eyes.
For a while, no one was talking. Makki sat in front of Hajime, glaring with all his might. Mattsun kept you company as a spectator, silently watching how things will unfold. You would have kept up with the staring, but your growling stomach was enough reason to ignore Makki and Mattsun's theatrics.
You sighed, standing up from your seat.
"Omurice?" you asked, addressing everyone in the room by looking at each of them one by one. Thankfully, all of them had the decency to give their assent through their raised hands. Before long, you had your ingredients prepared and got to work, giving everyone their respective tasks as you sit on the dining table. When everything was set, you sat back down and motioned your hand towards them.
"Let's start?" you asked.
"Let's make this clear," Makki said, pointing the whisk at you, then at Hajime, "you two met here by coincidence last night, and you talked about your issues and made up? All in one night?"
"Well-"
"It's not-"
The two of you stopped, waited a beat before you nodded at Hajime and motioning for him to go first. He shook his head, wanting for you to go ahead.
"We haven't… really… made up?" you carefully said, wary of Hajime's reaction, but he nodded, so you figured he felt the same way.
Regardless of what happened last night, it felt like things haven't really come to an end, still felt like there was still something missing. That doesn't mean last night was fruitless. Many good things came out from your talk last night, mainly the weight on your chest and the tension between you and Iwaizumi. You knew you were merely a few steps away from finally clearing things with each other and with yourselves.
Makki's eyebrow rose so high it was almost comical. "Oh, really? Even though I almost had a heart attack seeing the two of you on the same bed minutes ago? For all I know, you guys had make-up sex, to hell with everything and everybody else."
"Makki!" you cried, a mixture of shock and embarrasment.
Matsukawa snorted. Oikawa, who recently joined your group via video call, groaned so loud the table vibrated. Hajime turned towards the pan fast, the effect of Makki's words evident as his face and neck turned red.
"That is not what happened," you reiterated, saying the words through gritted teeth. "We talked. That's it."
"So you still haven't forgiven him?" Makki wondered?
"I haven't!"
"You haven't?!" Matsukawa, Oikawa and Hajime asked.
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Hanamaki, last night was exhausting enough as it is," you growled, your emotions tipping over. "My eyes are still swollen! I'm hungry! I'm mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted from so many things I don't even care to think about anymore! Can't you at least wait until I get food in my stomach before doing this to me?! I already told you. We didn't do anything! Sure, Hajime looks fine as hell and even more than before, but we didn't do anything besides talking and crying, okay?"
You found yourself breathless by the end of your speech, while the four of them remained frozen. You were glaring, daring anyone to defy your words and be stupid enough to face your wrath when Matsukawa's face broke out in his trademark wolfish grin.
"I totally get you, though. Iwaizumi looks fine as hell," he mused, holding both of his hands up in surrender, far different from the huge smirk on his lips and eyes sparkling with mischief. "I mean, look at those arms. And that as-"
Whatever Mattsun was supposed to say, the world will never know. You jumped for his throat.
-
Iwaizumi felt like his head will split open any second now, with all the constant pounding and utter chaos brought about by Hanamaki and Matsukawa. He was still reeling from last night, surely you were too, yet now you were being bombarded with questions after questions. He couldn't complain, not even one bit despite his booming migraine, because Makki was talking to him again and the simplicity and normalcy of having the five of you altogether, regardless of Oikawa's virtual presence and the many months of being apart, Iwaizumi wouldn't ask for anything else.
This is what home feels like. This is what happiness feels like. This was what he was yearning for, what he was missing out on, ever since you left that morning.
He must have zoned out long and hard because suddenly, your hand was in his line of vision, offering him a tiny capsule. "Take this," you told him.
Blinking, he shook himself awake, taking the medicine from you. He felt a solid pang on his chest at the sight of your finger, free from the ring binding you to him overpowering the surge of warmth at your sweet gesture. Clearing his throat, he quickly looked away and grabbed the glass in front of him as he popped the medicine to his mouth.
Somehow, you knew exactly what was on his mind as you said, "Sorry."
"What? What's this about?" Matsukawa inquired, confused at your words.
"My ring," you answered. Iwaizumi could feel your eyes on him, but the weight in his chest left him frozen. "I gave it back to him before leaving," you clarified. Everyone was silent then, the only indication they heard was Matsukawa's soft oh.
"Will you take it back?" Oikawa asked.
"Not yet," you replied, making him look up at you. You smiled, "but soon."
The next hour was spent on breakfast and light-hearted topics, Hanamaki and Matsukawa focusing on your time in Onomichi. Iwaizumi felt so out of place, felt like he was out of the picture as you shared your days in a faraway town like it was some kind of vacation.
Oikawa's input only made it worse.
His stories making it sound like an out of town trip, when before, he was sharing Iwaizumi's agony in missing you.
His chair made a loud, scraping noise as he stood up, body rigid like stone. He didn't want to be rude, but his massive headache and the jealousy and pity churning in his stomach made it maddening to listen as you gushed about your time with Ren and his older brother (he's hot, Oikawa cuts in).
He just couldn't.
"Excuse me," he said through gritted teeth, before placing his dirty dishes on the sink.
It wasn't right to feel this way. He knew he was being petty, immature, senseless, unfair, or whatever word it could be, but he didn't care. There was simply no word to describe all that he was feeling at the moment, but all he knew was that he'd have to get away before he drowned.
He was left alone for almost an hour.
He knew because he stared at the clock on Tooru's wall the whole time. He was grateful for the time, allowed him to settle with himself and the war waging inside and wounding him.
"May I come in?"
He didn't answer, but the door still clicked open.
"Makki and Mattsun left," you said by way of coming in. "They both had appointments and stuff they had to do at work, so they went ahead."
His gaze naturally moved towards you, watched as you pursed your lips and kept your hands behind you. He knew he was putting you in a difficult spot, knew he didn't have the right to make you feel this way. He should be glad that you were able to move forward, to be happy as you deserved to be. Even so, it still hurts not sharing those moments with you and he didn't want to burden you with his emotions. Sitting up, he gave you his undivided attention.
"Hiroshi-san came by and dropped this off."
In your hands was a plaque with gold and black furnish. As his hand reached out to get it from you, he squints at the sight of his name written in bold black letters.
"It's some sort of recognition," you started, by way of explanation. He wasn't sure why your voice sounded shaky, so he waited. Clearing your throat, you continued, "recognition for the people who supported the authors in the company. They were given to parents, partners, editors. To whoever we wanted to show our appreciation for supporting us."
He blinked, while his hand started to tremble. He couldn't find the words to ask you. Instead, his eyes held the question he wasn't able to voice out.
You looked away, a blush creeping up your face.
"It's yours, Hajime. You were by my side throughout my whole journey as an author, even when I was still struggling looking for an editor and a publishing house. You were right there by my side, cheering for me, supporting me. I know, I barely say it in words, but you will always be the reason I write, Hajime, so thank you. Thank you for allowing me to live my dream."
As he stared at the plaque once more, his vision started swimming, but he blinked the tears away. Slowly, he placed the plaque down on the bed before standing up and facing you. With two large steps, he closed the gap between you, holding you tight.
"I'm sorry for wanting to take that away from you," Iwaizumi whispered, lips close to the top of your head. "I was selfish. Please forgive me."
"It's alright now, Hajime," you crooned, softly rubbing his back. "I was thanking you, not blaming you," you joked, making him smile.
"Is this why you went back to Tokyo?" He could feel your head nodding by his shoulder. "Why you were dressed up?"
Again, a nod.
"You are so beautiful."
"Thanks," you replied, your smile evident on your voice.
"Will you come back?" Iwaizumi couldn't help asking as he watched you pack for your trip back to Onomichi. He didn't understand why you were still going back there when you two have finally made up.
He could feel the weight of the sigh you let out, as you shoved the last of your things inside your suitcase. The sound of the zipper closing felt so loud for Hajime's taste.
"I will come back," you answered, turning to him with an apologetic face.
"We've made up, right? So why are you leaving?" He didn't want to sound petty as he is now, but he was desperate.
Reaching for his hand, you worked your way to let it loose from a tight fist before entwining your fingers with his. You looked up, with those bright eyes that made his knees weak, and Hajime knew he was now in trouble. You only looked this way when you want something he could never say no to.
Always have, always will.
"We made up, Hajime, with each other, but not with ourselves," you replied, voice soft and tender. Your voice was soothing all his nerves, and he could feel his muscles go lax from the tension. "You know that right?"
It took a while for him to nod, because he wanted to be honest, but he didn't want you to leave.
"I'm going back to help myself. To forgive myself for all the things I've done, so I can be with you as a whole again," you said with conviction. "Will you give that to me, Hajime?"
"You will come back right?"
He wanted to be sure, to be certain that he was not losing you again. Not this time. Not ever. His world seemed to end when you shook your head. Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed his cheek, softly squeezed his hand you were holding, catching his attention.
janainaart
blakekathryn
turnnoffyourmind
annaxmalina
areudirty
romaincrisis
