i love haikyuu so much. bc itâs just. so cute. i love how many characters there are and all of the useless, trivial information we have abt all of the characters. like how iwaizumi used to collect cicadas, only to let them go bc he said heâd feel bad if he kept them. how yamaguchi likes âlong fries that have gone soft and floppyâ. how kunimi likes salted caramel. how akaashi wrings his hands. how kuroo just happens to get top grades and slips all these scientific words into casual conversation. kenmaâs username on everything is âapplepiâ. itâs just so cute. i love the character interactions, like when bokuto is looking out of the window in his pyjamas and he says âiâm glad itâs fukurodani who i could play my last match withâ and akaashi is like âare u dying bokuto?â and bokuto says âwhat? iâm going to live until iâm 130âł. and when shimizu holds sugaâs hands when heâs visibly stressed and suga instantly goes red and swirly and heâs like âpls wait!!!!!! we canât get married yet!!!!!â. and when kuroo and bokuto knowingly smile at each other and hug after nekoma are eliminated from nationals. when kenma smiles and thanks kuroo for getting him into volleyball and kuroo is like â⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠huh⊠âŠ? ⊠⊠W-WAITâŠâ and he covers his face and starts laughing and itâs rly cute. nobody is bad. kyoutani is really scary and only listens to iwaizumi, but only bc iwaizumi beat him at arm wrestling. a cunning, deceitful character like daishou has a rly pretty gf he tries to impress, and when they watch volleyball matches together he gets bashful bc he feels like heâs being a huge volleyball nerd but she calls him cool. i just donât understand how a series is this cute. theyâre all so cute. moniwa is so cute. goshiki is so cute. oikawa teaches volleyball to children on mondays. donât even get me started on yachi
akaashi being late to practice bc he was helping an old lady carry apples
also when the captains play card games all night and he falls asleep on the floor (and bokuto bet daichi and kuroo his soul)
tendou teaching ushijima how to open pudding so that it wobbles perfectly
kenma and hinata texting each other in bed throughout the series
kuroo and kai walking around carrying an injured yaku between them (yakuâs legs dangling around bc heâs nowhere near as tall as them) and also them slowly squatting back down in unison so that they can all sit on the floor and chat
koganegawa walking around the junior training camp with his little flip phone asking everybody for their numbers and being super excited about it
itâs just cute seeing the charactersâ parents, like kenmaâs mother who looks EXACTLY like him, or ushijimaâs dad who was just generally very sweet and encouragingÂ
that official art of the seijou 3rd years going out for karaoke and oikawa is absolutely fucking it up. hanamaki is on the maracas
kageyama has a volleyball diary⊠where he writes down cool volleyball tricks he sees⊠he sits down after every match⊠and⊠writes in itâŠ
nekoma taking bunches of bananas to all of their matches
when the shiratorizawa coach tells hinata thereâs nowhere for him to stay overnight and tendou is like psssst!!!!!! heâs lying we can sneak u in!!!!Â
kenma canât yell without getting sick (and kuroo feels guilty when he sees him working hard bc he knows heâll have a fever the next day :,) and he always checks on him in bed :,,,) )
matsukawa and hanamaki on their train date
when akaashi is crying after he feels like he did bad in a match and bokuto says âi thought about it real hard and iâve got a counter-argument!!! nothing is impossible!!â and after like 5 straight chapters of akaashi freaking out he LAUGHS and says good point :,)))
it could be because of the panic attack he just had, or simply because he cant bring himself to get out of the car.
what if you changed your mind?
what if he took you out, and mid-celebration, you decided that you chose the wrong person? the wrong twin?
saying that osamu felt inferior to his twin is atrocious, because no, he didnât. he didnât feel like a lesser being when he stood next to his other half, and he sure as hell didnât feel like he was below him.
what he does feel like, is a second choice â a rebound â because while osamu may not feel like his twin is better than him, the people around him might disagree.
osamu would be lying if he said that he didnt hate his twin for it sometimes â for the days he spent looking into the mirror, trying to figure out what set them apart. what was it that made osamu so unlikeable, next to his brother?
it became an insecurity as they grew up, a rot that was eating away at osamuâs self worth. he shared a face with his twin. he shared a sport with his twin â and for the nights that tsumu needed someone to confide in, he shared a bed with him, too.
they were almost the same, and yet so different.
the insecurity then turned into and inferiority that osamu had sworn to never feel against his brother. the words, the looks, the stares, they all said the exact same thing.
he would never leave atsumu. he would stay with his twin; forever by his side, forever in his shadow.
but then thereâs you, and osamu has never wanted something as bad as he wants you.
when it comes to you, osamu doesnât give a shit about comparing to atsumu. heâs been used to girls that would double cross him to get to his twin, and over time, he lost the ability to care anymore.
but he doesnât know what heâll do if you end up to be one of those girls. he doesnât know what heâll do, but loosing you would mean taking another blow to his pride; the pride that had so effortlessly withered away, and now rested in the hope that you wanted osamu, just as bad as he wanted you.
but heâs so used to the thought that you might leave him, that itâs getting harder and harder to trust you; to trust what you say, to trust you when you tell osamu that you love him more than anything.
heâs heard it all before.
and its selfish of him, so selfish, to put the burden of his insecurities upon your shoulders â to charge you with the responsibility of loving him, of rebuilding his self-worth, that was reduced to almost nothing.
you said you would do it, because you love him.
there was so much truth in your voice, that osamu had been afraid it was a lie.
all the promises, and yet osamu canât get out of the car.
he canât find it in him to get out and knock on your door, to thank your mom and dad for allowing him to take you out.
he cant handle the thought of being rejected by you, and the voice in his head yelling at him to protect the bit of sanity he has left is convincing.
and maybe, if not for the knock on his window, he wouldâve found it in him to breathe again, and drive away. he wouldâve told himself that heâs better off protecting his weak heart, than to give it to someone he is so undeserving of.
to the person who knocked on his window.
osamu looks up, and watches as you walk around the car to get into the passenger seat.
he looks away quickly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand â and yet heâs not quick enough, because youâre in the car now, and youâre turning his face to yours.
your face is pampered, proof of the effort you put into getting ready for your date, while osamu was in the car crying.
âi love you,â you whisper, and osamu shakes his head. you should be yelling at him, calling him pathetic. you should feel betrayed, for his lack of trust in you. âi love you.â
you say it again and again, over and over, until osamu is slumped in your arms, body trembling in your embrace. you whisper it into his ear, against his forehead, against his lips.
you repeat it, as your fingers rake through his hair, soothing him. you say it as a promise, as an oath.
âi see you, osamu. i understand how you feel, and we will get through it together. we will stand together, and i will not leave you behind.â
and you whisper that three-word-promise many, many more times, against his temples, along his arms and fingers, and into his hair.
when you spend your entire life believing that you could never be good enough, itâs nearly impossible to simply change that for someone who claims to believe otherwise.
but nearly impossible isnât impossible, and you are determined to reveal the worth you know osamu holds, so that he may see it too.
my reactions while reading the hq one-shot brace yourselves youâve been warned
THE MAN THE LEGEND KUROO TETSUROUUU no like its so fitting that heâs the one to bring everyone together heâs always been about connecting people and look at my boy just casually traveling the world and being like đ hey đ wanna play some volleyball đ heâs not taking no for an answer and he knows exactly what to say to each player and theyâre just eating outta the palm of his hand!! and i will never get over how fking fine this man looks in a suit!!!\
this panel just makes me laugh so much ik itâs meant for them to look intimidating but this to me is true himbo energy and sakusa with the little lint roller giving me cleaning levi vibes jsdfbkjds
"ah," your husband wails, clutching his chest in mock agony. the small child in front of his bursts into a fit of giggles at their fatherâs grunts and groans of pain. "tell mama i love her," bokuto then says hoarsely, taking a dramatic breath before collapsing onto the living room floor.
your child howls with laughter, waddling over to their father lying peacefully on the floor.
"what's going on here?" you ask, stepping into the the room scattered with toys when the only voice you hear is your child's.
"i beat papa," your toddler grins, pointing a chubby finger at your husband.
"did you now?" you smirk, raising an eyebrow. "you beat the love of my life?"
the child nods blankly, looking over their shoulder, awaiting for bokuto's big reappearance of 'I'M ALIVE!' to thus restart the game they were playing. only, it doesn't come as soon as they expect.
"papa?" your child furrows their brows, crouching down to gently pat his shoulder.
"how hard 'ya hit him?" you stifle the smile on your face at your kid's ministrations.
"not that hawd," they sniffle as their gentle pats turn to more forceful hits on their father's shoulder.
before you know it, your child snaps their head to you and their eyes brim with tears. "papa," they croak, outstretching their arms, reaching for your comfort.
bokuto's fatherly instincts kick in at the sound of your child's cries and he's quick to sit up, engulfing them in his arms. "hey, hey, i'm here! don't worry!"
"ko," you scold, watching as your child's sniffles look over at bokuto in recognition. "we decided it was a five second dead time!"
"'m sorry, mama," bokuto pouts at you as the child clings to the fabric of his shirt, burrowing his head against his chest. "i went too far."
"don't apologize to me. apologize them for the trauma."
"you okay bud?" bokuto looks down at his chest. "papa didn't mean to make y'cry."
the toddler nods, chewing on their lip. "mhm. 'want ice-cweam."
Ê ATSUMU É
"how do you even own so many nerf guns," osamu mutters, hanging the plastic toy over his shoulder as he glances around the empty hall.
"sh," atsumu hushes his twin, looking around the vicinity. "the kid's gonna hear 'ya."
"i can't believe you do this everyday."
"it's fun for the both of us."
"what, to feed your equal levels of competitiveness? yeah, i can see that."
your toddler hides in the corner of the play room, stifling their giggles at the sound of their father and uncle speaking in hushed voices not very far away. there's a small nerf gun tucked in their stomach, at a perfect angle towards the entrance of the room.
your husband and brother in law were done for in this game.
just as the kid suspected, atsumu presses against the outside wall of the room, carefully peaking around it, to give the room a one over. "the kid's too small, i can't even tell if they're in here."
"i think i heard something in the kitchen. they're probably in there." osamu nudges his head in the direction of ahead of them.
atsumu nods at his brother, moving to walk across the entrance of the play room. your child shrieks as he appears from their hiding spot, firing the foam bullets at their father. osamu stands of the side in slight amusement as atsumu jerks his body back and forth at the impact from the bullets.
when the child's bullets run out, atsumu collapses to the ground. your child jumps up and down in glee, giggling to themselves. "did 'ya see that uncle 'samu?"
"sure did. he's done for." osamu smiles easily at the toddler.
the kid waddles over to your atsumu and pokes his shoulder. "dada, i won."
at no response, the toddler scrunches their nose up. "daaa-daaa, get up."
"maybe, it was one too many bullets," osamu murmurs, crossing his arms.
"huh?"
osamu sucks in his lips to keep from snorting at the blank expression on your child's face.
"i can take his pulse, yeah?"
"what's a purse?"
"pulse, not purse," osamu corrects as he kneels down, holding two fingers to atsumu's neck. "'m sorry, little one."
"wha-?" eyes widen to saucers and he looks down at the face down volleyball setter.
then it all hits like a storm.
"dadaaa!!" your child wails, punching little fists at his back.
"hey, kid. it's alright, let's just-" when osamu's hand motions toward atsumu, the child quickly slaps it away.
"don't touch him!" the child cries, hitting their head against their father's back, gripping at his t-shirt.
"'tsum, stop being a prick. you're kid's scared."
"you started it!" atsumu's head quickly perks up in panic and he spins his body around to hold the child against his chest. "dada's here, kid." atsumu scowls at his twin. "you're the one who checked my pulse!"
after your child's sniffles die down, they stare seriously at their father.
"don't tell mama, ok?" atsumu mumbles in worry, knowing how you'd bite his ear if you found out.
"pwick." is all your toddler responds with a frown.
atsumu groans. now he's got two things to worry about. whether or not your kid tells you about what happened or the new vocabulary word they learned.
Ê SUNA É
"so, you just let them hit you with a pillow and they're happy?" atsumu raises an eyebrow as his friend's child giggles in happiness.
"basically." suna shrugs.
atsumu watches in slight confusion as suna and your child lay on the long sofa. the child lifts a plush pillow in their arms, throwing it at their father's head and when suna pretends to knock out, begins laughing maniacally.
"watching them must be easy."
"they're pretty fussy when it comes to food but yeah, it's a breeze. y/n deals with all the hard work of the morning."
"like what?"
"waking them up, getting them dressed. if y/n weren't around, this kid would sleep three days straight probably."
"wonder where they get that from."
"speaking of, i'm getting pretty tired." suna yawns, looking over at the toddler. "you? is it nap time?"
the child shakes their head, continuing their repetitive ministrations.
it goes on a few more times until suna pretends to knock out and just...doesn't lift his head again.
"pa," the child whines impatiently.
"darn, your own dad got tired of 'ya." atsumu snickers, looking at his passed out friend on the couch.
with a huff, the toddler climbs into their father's lap, leaning against his chest.
"whatcha gonna do? punch him? start a tantrum? i know my monster does that- oh, you're asleep."
atsumu sits awkwardly as he watches the sleeping pair. he snorts at the sight.
"what am i supposed to do, see myself out? some hosts y'all're."
character: miya osamu
words: 5,700+
tags: friends to business partners to lovers, defining the relationship.
notes: written for the xoxo, valentine collab!
collab masterlist đ
when you call out a final "thank you, come again!" to the last couple of the day, the sky outside is dark and the wind is chilly.
"thank you," the girl responds as she burrows into her coat.
smiling at them as they make their way to the door, you try to not let your annoyance show on your face. they'd overstayed their welcome by a good thirty minutes, and you were itching to slide the door shut and start closing the restaurant.
this year's valentine's day was insane. when you'd opened onigiri miya over three years ago, the occasion wasn't terrible each time it arrived. but then atsumu had to go drag his ass into this stall each time he had a date ("i know the owner," he'd say as he wiggled his eyebrows at the poor, defenseless girl he'd conned into thinking he was worth the time of day this time around), which gave the restaurant a lot of traction.
which was great, don't get it wrong. it was just hard.
because outside of you and osamu, you'd only had one additional employee (who you'd let clock out once there were only around three tables left being occupied), it was a double edged sword.
valentine's day meant profit, but it also meant sheer exhaustion.
"we hope you enjoyed your food," you tell the couple, holding the door open for them.
"it was delicious," the guy says, slowing down to wait for (presumably) his girlfriend when she realizes she left her bouquet of flowers on the table. you try not to let your impatience show. "we're coming back again soon!"
"glad to hear it!" osamu calls from behind the counter, waving patiently.
finally, finally they leave, and you slide the door shut so hard it shakes. swinging the sign from open to closed, you turn around, and your eyes meet your partner's tired (yet wholly satisfied) gaze from behind the counter.
"we did it," you breathe, and the smiles that overtake your faces are bright and wide. it's the buzzing feeling of successâsomething you'd both toiled days and nights for, and it finally manages to settle after this ridiculously busy valentine's day.
you're already doing the math in your head, but you're interrupted when osamu rounds the counter and practically slams into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hoisting you up with a laugh.
"we did it!" he repeats, and bouncing you in his hold.
"osamu!" you shriek, gently smacking his shoulders as he laughs. when he sets you down, you stumble out of his hug with a laugh. he catches you before you fall, grabbing onto your arm.
"sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all. he sets you upright and takes off his cap, and you snort at the shape his hair has taken.
"gross," you say with a bright smile, and he runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in weird directions.
"i don't think i took it off the whole day," he explains, which you totally understand. you're surprised he's still standing, given that you've been yelling orders at him all day.
you swipe a pack of tissues from the bar and dab it on his hairline and forehead, and he laughs.
"is that gonna help?" he asks, grinning.
"maybe," you say, ribbing the napkins all over his hair this time. he ducks out of your ministrations and you chuck the damp tissues at a nearby bin as he fits his cap back on his head.
he holds up his hands, palms facing you. "for today."
you smack your palms against his, enjoying the sting. "we did it!" you say, and suddenly feel your body give out. "oh my god."
osamu catches you before you fall. "whoa! you okay?"
"i am," you breathe, "so tired."
he smiles, a little apologetically. "we should really hire more people huh?"
"my legs say yes," you respond as he leads you to the bar. "but our profit margins say no."
"maybe part-timers? for busy days like valentine's, or leading up to christmas."
you push yourself up to sit on a bar stool. "you know what? that's actually a great idea."
"i do have them from time to time."
you smile up at him, patting his broad chest with a friendly hand. "good job today, osamu."
"good job to you," he says kindly. "i stayed mostly in one place. you were running around from the kitchen to the front. carrying orders, too."
"which reminds me," you say, reaching up and stretching your back. "do we have any more food left?"
"maybe some umeboshis?" when you make a face, he continues, "but since i know you don't like those, i can whip up some tuna mayos." he leans on the bar, chest broad in front of you. "why? were you taking some home?"
"planned to," you say with a smile.
"ah." he nods. "how many did you want?"
"four's fine."
"that's a lot. sharing it with someone?" he clears his throat. "it's valentine's day, after all."
you roll your eyes. "when do i ever have plans for valentine's day?" you say with a wry smile. "oh, wait, did you? i can close up on my own if you have a date!"
he shakes his head. "when do i ever have plans for valentine's day?" he lobbies back with a grin.
he rounds the bar, hitting the overhead light switch to kill the lights over the tables as he goes, and he's illuminated by the bar lighting as he washes his hands. "you sure you want four? you can eat some here, if you want. i was going to make some for myself."
"that's actually not a bad idea," you say thoughtfully, turning the stool and leaning your elbows on the counter. "then i'll have two, please."
osamu nods and plucks his phone from his pocket. he presses a few buttons before a soft, familiar song flows out through the speakers.
you perk up. "hey. i know this song."
he smiles at you as he preps his ingredients, plastic gloves crinkling as he goes. "of course you do. you played this every night whenever we would work on our paper."
you relax, catching your chin with your hand and tapping your fingers on the varnished wood. halfway through the song, you say, "we've come such a long way, haven't we?"
"hmm," osamu says, placing tuna flakes and mayo into a metal bowl.
"we're restaurant owners. doesn't that sound crazy to you?"
his spoon makes hollow, metallic clangs as it mixes the food together, hitting the sides of the bowl. "a little, yeah."
you watch him work. "did you ever think we'd be successful?"
his hands pause in his mixing, and the music stops briefly, before fading into another familiar track, one that you've also taken a liking to back in your college days.
osamu's eyes meet yours. "no," he says honestly, and looks back down. "did you?"
you adjust to catch your face in both hands, both of your elbows pressed against the counter. you watch him work, effortless and natural at his craft.
"no," you admit. "but... i guess it was fun. a lot more fun than i ever thought it would be." you shrug. "i think i didn't... i dunno, maybe i never stopped working on it because it was fun. you know?"
he flashes you a half-grin. "i do."
you smile at him. "i'm glad we became thesis partners."
osamu slides a plate with a freshly made tuna mayo onigiri in front of you. "here you go."
"we have to thank atsumu, too," you say, picking up the warm rice ball. "we had such a great turn out because of him."
your partner makes a face. "we give him enough free food as it is."
"do we have to give him food to thank him?"
"you think he's not goin' to ask for free food when we thank him?"
you consider this. "good point." you finally bite into the onigiri and can't close your mouth. it's hotter on the inside. "oh my go'," you say, mouth stuffed. "you makhe tha' besht onigi-ih's ev-ah."
"don't talk with your mouth full," he chastises gently, slipping off one plastic glove before handing you a tissue.
"itsh ho'." you cover your mouth with it to be polite, but he simply rolls his eyes.
"it's fresh," he reminds you, slipping on his glove again and prepping the others. he makes three total, one more for you and two for him, and while he plates you hop off the bar stool and jog to the beer fridge, pilfering two chilled ones from the back of the shelf.
"sit with me," you tell him when you climb back up on your stool, and he flashes you a grateful smile.
he slips off his apron and drapes it over the bar as he rounds it again. "thanks," he says, taking the beer can you hold out to him.
you open it in unison, the hiss resounding in the air.
"cheers to a good day," you tell him, and he gently bumps his can to yours.
"and to a valentine's day i don't spend alone, for once," he says. "finally, something that'll get my ma off my back."
you laugh. "does she still think we're one of those 'will they, won't they' couples?"
it was a title that you and osamu had unknowingly carried for years. you went from casual college friends to attached-at-the-hip thesis partners to on-paper-legally-inseparable business partners. your friends have called you out on it several times before, and you've told them time and again that osamu merely shrugs at the mention. it's not a big deal.
but he says, "she's not the only one," cryptically, and you don't wanna think about that, so instead, you roll your eyes and shove him in reflex.
he chuckles before he digs into his food, and you bite into your second onigiri. his phone plays familiar music, the food he made you is delicious, and the smile on your face is easy.
conversation with him is fluid and smooth; you've known this for a while now, back when you've been thesis partners in universityâit's half the reason why working with him on your final paper was virtually painless. but now, when it's just the two of you, with no customers or orders or sales reports or inventory checklists to be the focal point of your discussion, you realize that conversation with osamu miya isn't just easy.
it's natural.
talking to him is as effortless as breathing.
the pads of your fingers press below your ear, holding your head steady as you turn to him, laughing at a joke he'd mentioned (something about atsumu and hair dye and the wrong shade of blond that nearly made the setter cry). his voice is so soothing that you don't even realize that your eyes are sliding shut.
"you fallin' asleep on me?" he says softly, and you jerk awake.
"sorry," you say, trying to hold back a yawn. "i guess i was more tired than i thought i was." you reach forward and tap osamu's phone. "shit. it's almost one in the morning."
"you should go on home," he tells you, your plates clinking together as he stacks them. "i can clean up here."
"no way," you protest. you reach out your hand to grip his shoulder, your arm outstretched. "no. i'll clean out here. you can handle the dishes, and any other kitchen thing."
"you sure?"
"yeah. faster if it's the two of us, anyway."
you blink yourself awake and hop off the stool, rounding the bar to swipe a rag and a spray bottle. osamu gets to work quickly, too, and you're putting away your mop just as he closes the door to the kitchen with a twist of his key.
"locked out back?" you ask, opening the employee locker, stowed away in one corner of the tiny back office you had to store any important documents and packaging paraphernalia.
"yeah. did you leave anything in the kitchen?"
"don't think so." you toss him his jacket, placed beneath yours on the hook behind the office door.
"locked the safe?"
"yep," you say, locking the office door from the inside before pulling it shut. "we just need to lock the front and we're good."
"did you bring a car?" osamu asks, crouching down to secure the huge padlock that kept the storefront gate from being yanked up.
"no, unfortunately."
"okay. i'll drive you."
"what? osamu, no," you say, because he lives a few blocks away, in a small one-bedroom apartment with street parking that housed the onigiri miya delivery truck, and you live the next city over in a house your aunt is letting you stay at with dirt cheap rent.
it was no problem getting to work via train, as it only took ten minutes, but by car it would take thirty, which meant osamu would drive a total of an hour just to see you home.
he straightens, and you can see that his face isn't amused. "it's almost two a.m., _____. there's no way i'd let you go home on your own."
despite your better judgment, the corner of your lip twitches into a soft smile. "seriously, 'samu, i can just take a taxiâ"
"no buts," he says with finality. "i'd rather you sleep over thanâ"
your eyes and his widen at the same time.
â
"hey," osamu says, walking out of the shower. he's dressed in a plain white shirt and boxers, and he's wiping his hair with a towel. "you sure you're okay out here?"
"yeah," you say from your spot on the futon set on the floor, his furniture pressed to the walls of his tiny apartment. "thanks for letting me crash, by the way."
"no problem," he says with a smile. "kinda reminds me of our college days."
the simple statement triggers a specific set of memories. an annoying set of memories, placed in a box that was never touched but always looked upon.
why would you sleep over in the same place? and you're not a thing?
are you sure you're just thesis partners? there's no way you guys are just friends.
you're starting a business? together? oh my god. that's kinda like marriage, don't you think?
your brain fogs up, and now, you want nothing more than to figure out this puzzle. it's been over five years of seeing osamu miya's face nearly everyday. you saw him more than your own mother, facetime calls involved.
"hey, come here," you tell him, shimmying from under the duvet and pulling your soles together so they meet. you pat the spot in front of you. he dutifully sits down, cross-legged, and you take a breath. "i'm going to ask you something weird."
he's unbothered, like he always has been. "shoot."
you sniffle and clear your throat and stall, but the silence is begging to be filled. "why didn't we ever date?" you ask, softly, nervously.
he gently sets down his towel. "i don't know," he responds, but it's not careless. it's genuine, what he's telling you. he truly doesn't know.
you slip your hands beneath the duvet so he can't see your hands grip your ankle. you know what you're asking, where this is going. but maybe it's a box you should've unpacked years ago.
"have you ever thought about it?" you ask.
he doesn't falter. "of course i have," he says, giving you a glance before looking down at the duvet. "have you?"
you want to say, more than once. more than several occasions, but the answer comes out in one breath, instead. "yeah. of course."
the air is still, quiet.
osamu speaks suddenly, softly, "why'd you ask?"
"i don't know. i think... i feel like," you say, trying to your words as carefully as you can, "any person who would want to have... any sort of relationship with meâthey'd have to deal with you constantly being there. i know my friends constantly wonder what this thing between us is, and i don't know what to tell them. but all i know is that you'll be there, even when they aren't, or when they leave. and i think... i think i would dump them sooner than i'd deny any friendship with you."
"is that a problem?" he asks.
you're honest. "it's not my problem," you say.
it takes him a long moment to respond, which is okay. osamu won't run away from you. instead, you watch a bead of moisture slowly collect on a chunk of hair sticking out over the side of his head.
he finally speaks. "i get it. i mean, i understand that... you know, people won't understand us. but you're too important a person in my life for me to even try and risk it. you're my business partner, but you're not just that. you're also my friendâone of my best ones, and for me, one relationship isn't more important than the other, and it'sâwhat if... what if i risk it, and it doesn't work out, what do we do? what do i do?"
you nod, trying your best to understand, but that's easy when you feel the same way. slowly, you reach over to pick up his towel and dab at the drop of water that's about to fall. "yeah. i get it. i really do."
"there's a 'but' in there, somewhere." he sighs, taking the towel from your hand. "thanks."
you smile at him, hands dropping. "how'd you know?"
"you act like i haven't known you for years," he says with a small smile of his own, reaching forward to brush your hair away. it's a nice gesture, a familiar one. "'but'...?"
this is it. the make or break moment. weirdly, you don't feel scared, just nervous. maybe you have too much faith in osamu, maybe you have too much faith in yourself. but he's never let you down when it came to absolutely anything, and you know in your heart that this is another one of those things.
"but maybe," you breathe, "but maybe it's worth a try." your eyes slowly climb up to catch his gaze. "do you want to give it a try?"
his palm, still cold from the dampness of his towel, cups your cheek. "you should know by now," he murmurs, "that i would do anything for you."
â
before you slept, you texted your employee that work was called off for that day. you posted an announcement on social media. osamu took care of rescheduling deliveries.
and you crawled into his bed that night.
you've always known osamu ran warmâthis is not the first time you slept in the same bed together, although it is the first time on purposeâso he was a comfortable bed partner in the chilly months of february, and so waking up next to him was an inexplicable comfort.
"good morning," he greets, voice rough.
you groan against the brightness of the room.
"i have a spare toothbrush in the second drawer under the sink," he says.
you grunt.
"go, before you drool on my pillows."
you whine and roll out of bed. you shuffle to the bathroom and find the toothbrush as he says, and you rip the hotel packaging off. when you're leaning down to spit, osamu reaches for his own.
"need to pee," you tell him, and he nods, sleepily, shutting the door while you do your business. he comes back in when you open the door, and move to let him take over the sink. you sit at your side of the bed, blinking yourself awake.
"go back to sleep," he says, standing in front of you and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "i'll make breakfast."
you reach out to hold his hand. "osamu, wait."
he stands still.
"can we talk about last night?" you ask.
he sits next to you. "what about?"
it takes you a while to form words. "just... i love you, osamu."
his fingers lace through yours.
"i do. i really, truly do. and i wanted to let you know." you sigh. "i don't... it's impossible not to. it's hard to explain. it doesn't feel like... it's not just anything. it's important. you're so important, and itâ"
"you know i love you, too, right?" he says, and you twist your head to take in his sincere eyes and earnest words. "i mean, full disclosure, i i liked you, too, back then. but now it's different. now there'sâ"
"more at stake?" you ask him with a dry smile.
he lets out a breath. "yeah."
you kind of always known this, but hearing it from him feels like a revelation. but it's not about that right now. it's not about your ego, or feeling flattered, or surprised. "what changed?"
"you..." he runs his free hand through his hair. "like i said, you're one of the most important people in the world to me, and it's not just because of the restaurant. you're more than a friend to me, more than a business partner. and i felt like... if i told youâyou're too big of a deal for me to reduce you to a girl i just like. because you're more than that to me."
you laugh, and it's a little shaky. "you're giving me way too much credit here."
"but you understand what i'm trying to say, right? it's not just love either. i can't find the words to explain it."
"yeah." you nod. "yeah. you're... it's different. for you. for us. it's not that simple."
"yeah." he squeezes your hand. "i can't... i love you so much. that'sâi think that's what's scaring me. it's that we do this, and one of us just... stops."
"i know," you tell him, relief coating your words when you realize he understands, truly understands, what this is all about. "i know."
"i don't know what i would do if i lost you," he admits. "and i don'tâi mean... the business will be fine. we're fair people. but not having you in my life... i don't know if i can handle that."
silence settles over you, your hand in his, and you watch the sunlight peeking through the slats of his window climb up on the wall of his room.
"i don't know either, you know," you say finally.
"hm?"
"if i lost you," you respond, voice trembling in the slightest. "i don't know if i can handle it either."
he lets out a big sigh and squeezes your hand. "should that be enough to stop us, though?" he asks softly, inching closer. "would it be... is that going to be a disservice to both of us?"
you sigh and lean your head on his shoulder.
â
you decide to try.
that day after valentine's is the day you do. just try and see what it's like to be in each other's company with the prospect of something romantic looming overhead. an after-valentine's-day valentine's day, if you will.
osamu orders a beautiful bouquet of flowers which you accept with a surprised thank you (truly, you had no idea that he was going to go this far), and cooks american steak for lunch. you offer to buy dessert and set the table, which is his basically his kotatsu.
(you asked why not dinner, and rolls his eyes and says that you need to go home to your own place. you don't take offense to this because, yeah, he has a point, you can't keep sleeping over. plus, he can drive you, which is a nice bonus.)
and it's easier than you expected, either because you're so used to osamu that there's barely any discomfort or unfamiliarity, or because he actually has a chance.
this actually has a chance.
talking to osamu about it is actually kind of funny, too. what about this, what about that, how do we deal with this, what do we say when that happens. it's a testament to osamu's thoughtfulness, surely, and you appreciate the straightforward honesty, but part of you wants to rip your hair out because he's being too meticulous.
but another part of you wants to grab him by the collar and shake him and tell him to shut up.
the steak is delicious (of course), and the cake you ordered from a nearby bakery was so satisfying osamu asked for the name and saved the number to his phone. you both decide to turn on a movie while you snuggle beneath the kotatsu's duvet, backs against the couch.
you're not even paying attention to the movie. your eyes and lazily watching your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing over the swell beneath your thumb.
"i want to know what it's like to kiss you," osamu says suddenly, and you turn to look up at him.
he's staring intently at your hands.
he's been like this all day. i want to know where i can touch you, i want to know where i can hold you, i want to know what you don't want people to see, i want to know what you want people to see.
you're honest when you answer. it's not as if he held back on grabbing your arm or hugging you before, it's not as if he never held your hand, as if people haven't seen them together, as if you'd ever minded being seen together.
but this is different. he knows it is, you know it is.
"why?" you ask.
"i'm curious."
"and?"
"i want to know if..." he lets out a breath, and when he takes too long, you speak.
"you want to know if you want me."
he purses his lips in thought. "something like that."
"how flattering."
"no, wait, no, iâ" he runs his hand through his hair. "i want to know what you like," he says. "i want to know how to kiss you. if i can do that in the way you like."
"oh, i see. are you scared you'll disappoint?" you tease.
he chuckles. "no, but thanks for bringing that up." he turns to you fully, resting his arm on the seat of the couch. "i haven't made out with anyone since college."
"same," you groan. "i guess we'll both be disappointments."
"i don't think you'll disappoint."
"you're just saying that because you want to kiss me."
he laughs, loud and full. "well. i'm not hiding it." he pushes your hair back. "so can i kiss you now?"
"if you must," you sigh dramatically, but you can't help the smile creeping into your expression. his hands find your face and you have to hold back laughter, osamu quietly chiding you through chuckles, guiding your mouth to his.
your lips meet, and a tightness you had no idea rested in your chest releases, as if pulled out by the breath he takes when he breathes against your face.
when you pull away, the look in his eyes is no longer joking.
"i want this to work," he says firmly. "i want to make this work. i think we can make this work."
"wait." you grip one of his wrists. "wait, osamu, i need to tell you something."
he quiets, waits for you to speak.
"i love you," you say. "this isn'tâi'm not kidding. you're so important to me. and i know i keep saying this but i want you to understand, andâand i... i think i love you enough to be crazy enough to think that i could be in love with you, too." you swallow. "does thatâdoes that make sense?"
"yeah," he breathes. "yeah. it does."
"i don't want to regret this," you say desperately. "i don't want to. that's the last thing i want. the last thing i want is for this to be a mistake."
"then it won't be," he tells you, equally as frantic. "it won't. we'veâwe're more than just this. we need toâwe need to trust ourselves to handle this. because i never let myself want you, and now that i can, i don'tâplease don't tell me i can't."
the way his hands drift down to your waist to pull your closer makes your heart race.
maybe it's the look in his eyes, or the earnestness of his words, but you press yourself to kiss him again. it's a lot more raw, this kiss, honest and wanting, and somehow, it also feels long overdue, maybe. you don't know. all you know is that this is new, but not unwelcome.
you realize that you want to feel this. you want to feel this. you want to want him.
you start to let yourself, too.
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he walks you to your door when he drives you home.
"i'll see you tomorrow," he tells you when you finally unlock your door.
"okay," you say, and your breath materializes in front of you. when you look up at him, he presses a soft kiss to your mouth.
should it bother you how comfortable you are with kissing osamu? because it's a reflex now, after hours of doing it, to lean into his kiss. his hands, warm from being housed in his pockets, press against your cheeks.
"i love you," he tells you when you pull away. you know it's a reminder in this weird new path you'd both decided to tread, because it doesn't mean what you know you want it to mean, but it feels good to hear all the same.
"i love you, too," you say. "can you call me when you get home?"
he smirks. "miss me already?"
you decide to bite. "yeah. so?"
he laughs despite the pink in his cheeks. "okay. i'll call."
before he turns to leave, you kiss him one last time. "i love you, osamu," you whisper. "i mean it."
"this is easier than i thought it would be," he admits.
"is that a good thing?"
"of course." he kisses you another time. "i love you, too. now go, it's way too cold out here."
"i'll see you tomorrow," you tell him, slipping inside with a wave, and watching him walk back to the truck with his hands in his pockets.
thirty-five minutes later, your phone buzzes as you lay on the couch.
i miss you already.
you laugh as you type back your reply. that was fast.
his reply is instantaneous. i just realized that we actually had a valentine's date this year.
you and me?
your phone buzzes. separately and together.
it buzzes again. i should've let you sleep over.
you're word vomiting, you respond. soon after, there's another buzz, but this time it's a call.
"i'm being weird about this, aren't i?" is the first thing osamu says when you click the green button.
"it's actually pretty entertaining," you tell him, chuckling. "it's fun watching you squirm."
"shut up. it just hit me, how weird this is."
"how weird what is?"
"that i'm starting to like you."
"oh, wow. thanks."
"no, i meanâ" he huffs. "i thought it would come, but i didn't think it would come this fast, you know?"
"yeah. but also, gross."
"oh my god, shut up. i'm trying to be serious."
you laugh. "okay, fine. seriously, then. what are you thinking?"
"i think we can do this," he breathes. "i think we can actually do this."
you can't fight the smile making its way on your face. "you said that earlier today, too."
"yeah. yeah, i mean, i did, butâi mean, this is..." he lets out a deep breath. "i guess i'm just thinking that we can... i don't know how to navigate a romantic relationship where everything but the 'romantic' part is already there. but i think i can figure that out."
"you know what i thought to myself, earlier?" you say. "i thought to myself that i should also let myself feel more than friendship with you. and i realized that i think i've been holding back all this time."
"maybe we both have," he says.
"yeah," you whisper. "maybe. maybe this is actually going to work. maybe we'll be fine." you pause. "maybe we'll be happy."
he's quiet for a second. "i need to see you. i want to talk to you about this in person."
you smile a little at that. "okay. we can talk afterâ"
"let's close the restaurant again tomorrow."
"absolutely not," you say firmly.
"come on! please?"
"no. we already closed today. we're not closing again tomorrow."
"if i call you 'baby,' are you gonna fold?"
you bark out a laugh. "no. but i'd like to see you try and call me 'baby.' could be cute."
"i honestly can't tell if you're joking or flirting."
"give it a try and see what door opens."
"baby, please," he says sincerely. "let's close tomorrow and talk."
feeling jolts through you, and you bite your lip. you're quiet long enough to consider, but still, you say, "no."
"dammit," he groans.
you laugh again. "osamu, we can talk after work."
"but i want to talk about this as soon as possible."
"wow, are you actually being impatient?" you tease, sitting up. "have i been talking to atsumu all this time?"
"we always talk after work," he whines, ignoring your jibe. "but that's for normal things. this is different, this is important." you can hear a rustle on his end, and you can imagine him run a hand through his hair in frustration. "should've let you stay. shouldn't have dropped you home. shouldn't have driven off."
this is new, you think. you've never known osamu to be taken over by frustration. "osamu, calm down. i can sleep over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better."
"no, itâ" he stops. "wait, can i sleep over tonight?"
"excuse me?"
"please, baby," he says, and it sounds so natural coming out of his mouth that you nearly balk. "can i sleep over tonight?"
he's caught you off guard, and you don't have enough defenses to withstand him calling you baby a second time. so you fold. "fine." you clear your throat. "fine."
"great. i love you. i'll see you in thirty." he hangs up.
you stare at your reflection on the dark screen of your phone, excitement bubbling in your belly at the prospect of his arrivalâwhich was such a foreign feeling it made you nervous.
osamu was coming over, which a few weeks agoâdays ago, evenâwasn't a big deal. but now it is, and you don't know what to do with that feeling.
he was right, though. it was easier than you'd thought it would be.
atsumu is staring at his phone in his hand, with his eyebrows furrowed. a small, frustrated groan leaves his lips, and closes the app. you still havenât liked the pictures.
suna and osamu are snickering at him from the other side of the room. his twin has his instagram page opened, and there are two new pictures; shirtless, posing in front of a mirror. the boys can barely contain their laughter â itâs just too funny seeing atsumu check his notifications every two minutes.
âoy, âtsumu,â osamu calls out to him. âyou should have just sent it to âem.â
âoh, shut up,â he says quickly, a small blush creeping up on his neck. he forgot other people do see his posts, who are not you.Â
âis this your way of flirting?â rintaro asks, looking at his phone, at the pictures atsumu posted.Â
âwhat if it is?â the blonde looks at him with squinted eyes. he doesnât really understand why this didnât work out as he wanted.Â
suna types on his phone for a few seconds, then puts it away. he sent you a message, which you read giggling.
suna: hey, like atsumuâs post itâs important ty
a few minutes later, the setterâs eyes light up from seeing a notification.
âthey saw it!â he exclaims, and takes this as a success.Â
ITS HINATA SAYING HES DATING YN WHILE YN OS CONFUSED W EVERYTHING
EXACTLY . DUMBASSES TO LVOERS EVRYWHERE
i was playing around with the wording of hinataâs last text to sakusa. i was going to write âi dont want to bother ynâ but hinata not realizing that âi dont want to make it a big dealâ sounds like heâs ashamed of yn hits the right amount of hurt
this is my entry for the please don't say you love me collab! please check out other writers' works for even more heart break <3
character/s: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader
genre/s: angst
warning/s: none
gwenâs notes đ€: thank you so much for 2.5k consider this my gift to you masochists, not proofread
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
you were never brave enough to profess your love to kuroo. so you played it off as a lighthearted promise, a half-meant joke as you sprawled across his bed one hot humid saturday afternoon. you were in your second year in nekoma, kuroo in his third. the memory stuck out to the back of your mind like a sore thumb several years after it happened.
âsay, tetsu,â you begin, marching your feet up the cold concrete of the wall where his bed is pressed against until you could no longer reach. âhave you ever pictured yourself getting married,â you grunt, stretching your legs in stark focus, distracting yourself from the dull hammering in your chest.
âmhm,â he absentmindedly hums, eyes scanning over the reading material spread across his lap. his glasses sit haphazardly on the bridge of his nose. âyouâre gonna hurt yourself, idiot,â he mumbles, not even sparing you a glance.
you pout but lower yourself back onto the bed all the same, rolling on your stomach and propping your elbows on the mattress. you cup your face into your palm, steering your head to the side while you admired his features; no one else at school besides you and kenma and maybe a handful of their teammates has ever seen him with glasses because he quote unquote had a reputation to keep according to him. the thought of seeing him in a light no one else did tugs a smile on your lips. his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his lips pursed to a pout which he subconsciously moves side to side like he follows the syllables as he's reading.
âwhy are you staring at me like that, you creep,â he accuses, startling you as he slams the book close.
âi just find it funny how you donât like wearing glasses at school,â you reason, not missing a beat even as you feel heat creep up your cheeks and your heart do little backflips.
he grins at you, stretching his arms above his head, and winks, or at least tried. you swallow thickly but don't say anything. your eyes trail downwards in an attempt to shy away from his mischievous gaze. âwell how else do you suppose i steal all the girls at school, kitten?â he muses, pushing himself off his desk chair. you watch as it rolls across the floor, hitting the edge of his study table.
he saunters over to the bed, lightly shoving the back of his hand against your shoulder, âmove,â and plops next to you with a sigh, looking straight up at the ceiling. he reaches his arm over as if heâs trying to touch it and a beat of silence follows.
you hold your breath while you absentmindedly stare at his face; the curve between his knitted eyebrows and his nose, the specks of gold in his honeyed eyes, the slightest dent on his left cheek which no one else ever seems to point out but when he smiled, god he smiled so beautifully, it's all you could think about. the little moles scattered on his neck down to his prominent collarbones, you could trace constellations in his skin. you wonder what his lips would taste like on yours until his eyes dart onto you, taking you aback but you donât budge, more like you couldnât. you know he knows how youâve been staring and he looks you in the eyes as if heâs trying to find answers to a question he doesnât even know. his face is inches from yours and the faint smell of the perfume you picked out for him floods your senses.
âi donât know,â he sighs, finally breaking the unbearable tension which engulfed his room.
you blink back your shock, heaving in a sharp breath as you push yourself off the mattress and sit opposite to him, back leaning against the wall. âwhat?â you ask as you settle in your spot once more.
âi donât think iâm marriage material, per se,â he mulls over. âi donât want to be like my parents, you know?â he says it casually but you know him better than he even knows himself. in that moment you know heâs scared and you want nothing more than to pull him into your embrace and kiss him silly because he will never become like his parentsâyou and him will never become like his parents.
because youâre his best friend, you remind yourself. nothing more and you shouldnât be getting ahead of yourself.
âif weâre not married by 25, letâs just marry each other,â you blurt out, not really letting your brain process the words before they leave your mouth, but before you can scramble to take your words and shove them back up your throat, kuroo laughs.
âshouldnât you propose to me first or something?â
you bite your tongue, a frown etches on your face as you fight butterflies fluttering in your stomach so you snatch the nearest pillow and fling it at kuroo.
he catches it effortlessly with one hand and tucks it beneath his head, a soft fond smile replacing his ever scheming smirk.
âi donât see why not, besides the fact that youâre just proposing to me without so much as a paper ring.â
âitâs because iâm trying to give you ideas. i want a proposal under a sea of sky lanterns, just me and himââ him, you say as if you can picture yourself with anyone else but kuroo, ââand a candle lit dinner with my favorite food-â
âyou mean chicken wings,â he snickers. he catches another pillow midair.
âi donât want a big diamond ring or an extravagant wedding, i actually prefer like a really rare and pretty crystal on a dainty ring,â you ramble jokingly but unbeknownst to you, kuroo listens intently and takes mental notes. he almost sees you in slow motion, your excessive hand gestures and the way you look up to recall your words. âand, and i want a cottagecore wedding, lots of tulle, maybe i can wear a corset-â
âdonât ever leave my side, yn.â
you stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide as you stare at him. âwhat?â you manage to choke out, forcing a fake chuckle in hopes of escaping the tension you built yet again.
âdonât ever leave me,â he repeats, softer this time. he doesnât try to play it off with his usual smirk, or try to evade the situation with a witty remark. his eyes are pleading and vulnerable, his voice quiet like heâs saying a prayer. you find yourself crumbling before him.
âokay, i promise.â
kuroo is no longer the cute older boy next door who helps you with your homework only after he teases and annoys you aplenty. heâs not the sweaty and stinky volleyball captain, as you called him, who engulfs you in a hug after practice just because he knows how much you hate it. heâs not the same dork who canât talk to other girls to save his life, trips over his sentences, spurts out random chemistry pickup lines, and blushes like a tomato. he wears a different perfume now and wears his glasses to school. his dimple is no longer yours and his best kept secret because she makes him smile more often.
but the constellations on his skin and the gold in his eyes remains the same. so does your promise.
what exactly did you promise to him that day; to never leave, to never leave his side? even as it kills you, feels like you are no longer welcome next to him, like youâre only filling up a seat for her until she arrives.
you never leave his side even if it means watching him fall in love with someone else. that is until he pushes you, no shoves you away. your promise is no longer needed.
âwhy would you do that!?â
âshe was out of line, tetsu. keep your girlfriend in check, will you?â you huff, turning your back onto him as you fold your arms above your chest.
âshe told me you started it,â he argues, leaning onto the nearest thing and gripping it so harshly his knuckles turn white.
âis it my word against hers? please, you werenât there. you didnât see how fucking vile and evil that scheming bitch-â
âdonât fucking start,â he grits through his teeth and you scoff disbelievingly. âcome on, you know how much she means to me.â
âand what do i mean to you, hm?â your voice trembles. you snap your head to glare at him through your tears.
âare you serious right now?â he stares at your back incredulously, running his rough palm through his face in frustration. âare you actually making me choose between you and her?â he laughs humorlessly.
a stream of tears fall from your eyes as you squeeze them shut. âjust this once let me be selfish, tetsu. so yeah, i guess thatâs whatâs happening right now.â
the longer the silence stretches between you two, the louder you hear your heart pound in your chest. and if you listen closelyâ âthatâs so fucking low, even for you.â âyou can hear it break.
you kept your promise all those years and kuroo is yet to fulfill his.
time wears down everything, the good and the bad. you and kuroo went your separate ways without so much as a proper good bye. he went on to pursue his career like he always said he would while you surprisingly decided to study abroad.
time wore down the promises, the polaroid pictures stuffed away in a box on a shelf too tall to reach, the little gifts and knick knacks, his old high school jersey you havenât touched in years because youâre sure it still smells like the perfume you picked out for him.
and when your eyes lock on to his, in a bustling train station no less, as if youâre always subconsciously searching for each other in crowded places, you come to realize time also wore down the hate, the resentment, the betrayal, the hurt.
your legs, growing with a mind of their own, walk toward him each step bigger than the last, until you're running and jumping into his arms. he meets you halfway and catches you midair in a suffocating embrace, burying his face into the crook of your neck and whispering i miss yous and im sorrys and how are yous like a mantra.
he thumbs away at your tears when you finally pull away, the biggest smile on both your faces.
âhow have you been,â he breathes, taking in your appearance and you do the same. âyou look good,â he adds. your heart sinks at the familiar smirk he shows.
âyou donât look half-bad,â you joke, making him roll his eyes. as laughter dies down to soft hums, you quietly add, âiâve been good, tetsu. how are you?â
itâs his heartâs turn to clench when he hears your saccharine voice say his name so endearingly. âgood, good... actually can i take you out to dinner soon? i have something i have to tell you.â
skip over the awkward small talk and catching up over dinner, you poke fun at the last argument you both had. you were young and stupid, but it doesn't mean you know better now. still, all is well like the stars are aligned and he tells you he needs to show you one more thing.
âyouâre not taking me out into the middle of nowhere to murder me for ruining your high school relationship are you?â you jokingly say, peering out the window to watch the trees and lamp posts be blurred into one, the moon follows you with its gentle glow. it illuminates your features so beautifully, kuroo thinks.
he pulls up and opens the trunk of his car, ushering you out. he hands you a piece of paper folded into squares. it rustles as he unravels it and your breath hitches, tears quickly threaten to spill. kuroo knows itâs not a sea of lights, but it doesnât matter anyway.
a lantern, one for each of you. he remembers.
you clear your throat, shaking your head in an attempt to scatter your thoughts and light the lanterns with him. sitting back on to the trunk to watch them as they float away, dancing around each otherâs lights and it reminds you of you and him.
you feel him staring at you, inches away. your heart is thumping against your chest and the world stills when you finally get the courage to look each other in the eyes, searching each for answers and pleading for something you both canât admit to yourselves out loud.
warnings: uh maybe kinda toxic behavior? omi isnât the best in this but heâs still my baby so
sakusa kiyoomi isnât an easy person to love.
heâs meticulous and blunt and cold. he needs things to be a certain wayâhis daily schedule should never be interrupted, his things never misplaced, his time never straying. he needs constant routine, constant consistency. and maybe thatâs his fatal flaw, because if one thing goes wrong, then he would just prefer to throw it all away.
you just never thought youâd be one of things heâd discard once it didnât go his way.
âwhat?â you ask once you can finally force your mouth open, hand trembling at your side and tears threatening your lash line.
kiyoomi stares at you, and his eyes are unreadable, as they normally are. but theyâve never been that way to you. youâve always been able to decipher and depict what your boyfriend was thinking, just by a simple glance in his eyes. but now, now itâs like youâre looking through one way glass. like youâre looking at a stranger.
âiâm leaving,â he repeats calmly, normallyâlike heâs just stating the weatherâas he tears his eyes away to continue to pack his duffel bag. he folds his clothes just right, smooths them out before placing them inside. âiâll come get the rest of my things after practice.â
âwhat?â you ask again, and watch as that annoyed little crease crinkles between kiyoomiâs eyebrows. âi-i mean, seriously. stop playing, omi. this isnât funny. did tsumu tell you this would be a good prank? haha, okay. itâs over now. you can stop pretending to pack.â
forcing a smile never felt so hard, even as a tear escapes the side of your eye, rolling down your quickly heating up cheek. you reach a hand towards your boyfriend, and for the first time in four years, he flinches away from you.
âi donât do pranks, yn. if you know me at all, you know that.â
and you do. but, honestly, it was your last hope, your last hail mary, that maybe he was just kidding about leaving. your hand falls back to your side, only for you to grip the end of your shirtâhis, actually, since you stole it out of the dresser this morningâtrying to keep it somewhat together. but when sakusa zips up his bag and flings it over his shoulder, turning to look at you with an emotion so cold you swear you feel the temperature drop, you find that no amount of clinging will hold you together.
âi canât do this anymore. i canât focus and everything just keeps getting fucked up and you trying to help is only making it worse. i need space and i need time and iâm so fucking tired of things changing. iâm leaving, yn. like i said, iâll come get the rest of my things after practice.â
his gaze flickers to your shirt, and for a moment you swear you see water on his lash line, but then he snaps his head down and walks out of the bedroom. your bedroom, where you slept with kiyoomi every other night. shared lazy kisses, talked about the future. marriage, getting a bigger place, maybe even kids. and now heâs just.. walking away.
âkiyoomi,â you beg, finally letting the tears fall, pulling on his arm in a weak attempt to stop him as he makes his way to the front door. he reaches for the doorknob, pulls it open, but before he can walk out, you tug him hard enough to turn to face you. âkiyoomi i-i love you. please, donât do this to me. to us. i canât lose you. i canât.â
thereâs a second, just a sliver of time, that you see the old kiyoomi shining behind those dark eyes, a glimpse of the man you fell in love with. but itâs gone once he shrugs your hands off of him, turning to take the first step out of the door.
âiâm sorry.â
youâre not sure how long you stand there after he pulls out of the driveway, but you eventually shut the door. sinking against it, you finally let it all out. sobbing, banging your fists against the front door and screaming for kiyoomi to come back, promising youâll do anything, begging any and every god above to make it happen.
what you donât see is kiyoomi parked just around the corner in his car, knuckles white around the wheel as he screams just the same, cursing himself for having to hurt you like that, crying so hard he canât breathe. not caring that heâs dirtying his only clean mask, because he was supposed to go buy more with you today before practice. he sits in his car just around the corner when he realizes how much of an idiot he is.
and for the first time in his entire life, sakusa thinks fuck practice as he flips the ignition and gets out of his car, sprinting back as fast as he can because like hell he can just leave you. what was he thinking. he opens the door to still find you on the floor, and instead of banging on hardwood you start banging on that familiar chest as he pulls you into his arms.
sakusa kiyoomi isnât an easy person to love. heâs meticulous and blunt and cold. he needs things to be a certain way and thatâsâthatâs fine. because it may be hard to love him sometimes, but it hurts like hell to watch him leave. and you refuse to let him go again.
erisâ notes: this is for @ohajime song fic collab and i have to say i absolutely love it so ahhhhhhhh (plus itâs my first time ever participating in something like this so lowkey nervous lmao). this turned out way longer than i intended so haha, oopsie.
warnings: hurt/comfort, fighting, cursing (but dw it works out in the end)
love wasn't something tsukishima had ever really given much thought to. it was never something ideally essential to him, never something he truly needed and depended on like other people. sure, he thought someday he might meet someone, might do all that romantic shit and maybe eventually get married. and he even gave it a chance, once.
but one nasty heartbreak was enough to sever the bond of love and tsukishima kei for good, and he was done.
that is, until he met you.
yamaguchiâthe fucking traitorâwas the one who introduced the two of you. you were in a few of his classes at college and you just hit it off perfectly, so he invited you to tag along for his weekly lunch with tsukki. at this point, you'd heard all about yamaguchi's blond best friend, and to say you were looking forward to it was an understatement.
you'd had your fair share of cocky, smartass men who were closed off from the world and weren't too keen on meeting another. but tadashi really wanted you to go, so you did. and oh boy, tsukki was a hell of a lot more attractive than the pictures tadashi had shown you.
lunch went by smoothlyâapart from tsukishima nearly biting your head off when you called him 'tsukki', apparantly that's only reserved for tadashiâand your new friend dropped the bombshell just as you all get up to leave.
"oh! and you better get used to seeing them, tsukki. they're applying to be the team manager for the frogs in a few weeks for the new season!"
yes, thank you tadashi for giving tsukishima another reason to throw you a glare that sent shivers through every fiber of your entire being. the blond just scoffed, brushing past you with a sneer as he mumbled, "just stay the hell outta my way," before walking out of the restaurant.
you still laugh when you think about that day, how cold tsukishima seemed to be, how much of a jerk he acted like to everyone. it was like his heart and soul were buried off somewhere completely separate from his body, six feet under everything else. now, though, now tsukki is much more inviting to you.
"i'm not watching this movie again," he grumbles as he sits down beside you on his couch, bowl of popcorn in hand.
"but you love this movie," you tease, snuggling over into his side and snatching a few pieces of popcorn. "dinosaurs are your thing, tsukki. this movie is like your lifeblood."
the blond tsks, rolling his eyes as you press play despite his interjections. "all i see is dinosaurs everyday, coming home only for you to force me to watch jurassic park seems more like torture than relaxation."
it's been a few years since that first day the two of you met. you did become manager for the sendai frogs for the remainder of tsukki's playing with them. after graduation, you went on to do a different type of managing in a big company, and tsukki went on to work at the museum. you'd fully expected your ties with yamaguchi and tsukishima to end there, but the three of you still meet every weekend for lunch in that same little restaurant. (though tsukki always complains about it, but that's just in his nature).
and now five years down the line and you and tsukki are, well. you're not particularly sure what you are. friends isn't enough but together seems too much, though you veer into the latter more and more every passing day. it hurts your head to think about so you donât, but you really do want to know.
the opening scene is just starting when tsukishima feels your head drop to his shoulder, both of your arms wrapping around one of his as you stare forward at the screen. when he started letting you get like this with him, he doesnât remember. and when you touching him, even just barely, started making his chest hurt, he isnât sure either.
he stares at you a bit longer, watches as your eyes flicker all across the screen, looks at that soft smile donning your perfect lips. his thoughts are far louder than the movie as he presses his cheek to the crown of your head, trying to will the fluttering out of his stupid stomach. he knows what this feeling is, but he really, really doesnât want to be feeling it.
the movie ends and the credits finally roll, causing tsukki to raise his head and roll his neck. âsee, terrible. as always. iâm never watching it again,â he declares, then pauses when he doesnât get a response from you.
sure enough, youâve fallen asleep. he should expect it by now, since this is what you always do. normally, though, he shakes you awake, tells you the movieâs over, and helps you get your things to leave. this time, for whatever godforsaken reason, he just canât seem to do that.
it takes a few seconds of awkward readjustments, but he manages to get you into his arms to carry you, your face pressed to his collarbone. he has you halfway down the hall when he feels you stir awake, your hand gripping onto his shirt as you startle.
âkei, whaââ
âjust go back to sleep, idiot,â tsukishima mumbles, ignoring how youâre looking up at him with bleary eyes. once heâs in his bedroom he lays you on the bed, pulling the comforter over you and reaching to grab one of his pillows. âiâll take the couch. goodnight.â
you blame your next words on your half-asleep state, really. grabbing onto tsukkiâs sleeve, you make him stop. when he turns to look at you, his chest aches again. someone rubbing their eyes with a dopey little smile shouldnât be so damn cute.
âwhat, no goodnight kiss?â
yeah, you blame the half-asleep state.
âwhat,â kei snaps, yanking his arm away from your weak grip and taking a step back. and honestly, heâs not sure why heâs angry. he isnât even really angry. those words, teasing or not, are something heâs secretly hoped for for years. but now that heâs heard them, watched as they slipped out of that mouth he adores so much..
he isnât even really angry, heâs just completely and utterly scared.
you blink up at your best friend, unaware of whatâs suddenly gotten into him, until it all comes crashing down on you at once. âoh, oh my god,â you groan, rubbing at your eyes again before you stand up from the bed. âjust forget i said that, i was like half asleep.â
âi think you should leave.â
âwhat?â you blink again, and you seriously think youâre starting to sound like a broken record. âkei, câmon. itâs not even a big deal. besides, weâre already kind of a thing so why is itââ
âwho the fuck gave you that idea?â tsukishima shouts, and youâve never ever had him raise his voice at you before. but he does now, and it causes you to flinch back half a step. âwho the hell told you weâre anything like that? why would you even fucking think that?â
you gape at him, eyes wide and weary, and then they narrow because what the fuck. âare you being serious right now? oh, i dunno, maybe the fact that we were just cuddling on your fucking couch! and how we do that every other night. and how we go on literal fucking dates, kei! what the hell, âwho gave you that idea?â you! you did, you asshole.â
âitâs not my fault you cling to me! youâre like a fucking leech, what the hell else am i supposed to do?â he retorts, throwing his hands up in the air, and suddenly you arenât looking at the tsukki you love at all. youâre staring at the man he was five years ago, and you never thought it would hurt so bad.
âdo you love me? do you have any feelings for me at all?â you ask, voice a stark contrast to the harsh tone it held before. you sound lowly, defeated. like youâre watching your whole life crumble down around you.
and to be fair, it sort of feels that way.
âjust sayâsay what you mean, kei,â you beg after a moment of silence, cheeks heating up and eyes burning at the brim. âtell me truth. or tell me weâre through. because i canât live like this anymore.â
you give him a few seconds and you watchâhoping, prayingâthat heâll say something, anything. hell, youâd take the fucking rejection at this point as long as it meant you could get some form of clarity. but the clock ticks by and all you get is silence, an averted gaze, and a slowly breaking heart.
âokay,â you nod, clearing your throat. âokay, iâll just go.â
you leave tsukishima standing in the middle of his bedroom as you gather your things together, and you canât tell, but heâs never hurt so bad. what youâre asking forâhis love, his heartâheâs not sure he even has that to give. itâs been so long and heâs pushed that away so far that itâs nearly unfathomable.
but the thought of you walking away, leaving his apartment without your joyful âsee ya kei~â. not coming back to wrap around his arm and force him to watch dinosaur movies again. no more dinners at that fancy restaurant on the corner where you always steal a bite from his plate. no missing sweaters that you swear you didnât steal but he knows you did. no more you, at all.
heâd rather give you the empty shell of himself, than have you leave forever.
instantly, heâs running through his small apartment in a haste trying to stop you before you go. because damnit, what was he thinking? he canât lose you. he rounds the corner into the living room just as youâre cracking open the apartment door and he all but leaps to reach over you to slam it back shut.
you stagger to stop yourself, turning on your heel to glare up at him. âtsukishima, what the hell are youââ
what the hell are you doing, is what you were going to say, but those words never have a chance to finish leaving your lips as the man youâve been in love with for years cups your face and kisses you. when he pulls away, heâs breathing heavy, and youâre staring up dumbstruck, as he leans to press your foreheads together, glasses a tad uneven on his nose.
âthereâs your goodnight kiss,â he breathes, looking directly into your eyes, and yeah. you can see all the words heâs trying to say without him even having to mutter a single syllable of them.
you drop your bag to your feet and slide an arm around tsukkiâs neck, tugging him impossibly closer as you lean in again. âhow about another?â and he supplies.
tsukishima would agree that perhaps his heart had been buried somewhere separate from his bodyâmaybe even venice, the place youâve always told him youâve dreamed to visit. but now he thinks it resides with you.
summary: when you and issei split, you both had an agreement: move on and avoid each other at all costs. it wasnât that you ended on bad terms or you didnât love each other, itâs more so that you did. time seemed to heal all wounds, but that love? well, it seems even time canât sever that.
erisâ notes: i have been sitting on this for a while. maybe iâm projecting, who cares. i just love mattsun so much.
warnings: itâs exes to lovers so there will be angst but weâre gonna pull through dw, mentions of alcohol/drunk calling
listen to: remember that night?
it was supposed to be easy.
iâm moving to tokyo. iâm staying here. that was the plan. when things ended, one of you would root yourself and the other would leave to grow. there was no interference that way, no chance of accidentally bumping into each other in the supermarket reaching for the same carton of eggs or looking over and seeing that youâre next to him at a stoplight.
avoiding each other was supposed to be easy. you both ensured it to be, took every precaution you could think of, really. so how could he walk back into your life just the same?
you check some messages, swipe through photos on social media, read some article about some bullshit you donât care about just to sate your boredom. the bell of the door jingles, the sound of someone shoving on the jammed door because it always gets stuck. you donât look up, just keep in your own little world, take a sip from your drink, stand up from your chair so you can get ready to leave.
itâs a tuesday, when you hear a voice youâve done your very best to forget.
âtwo mocha frappes please, hold the whip.â
slowly, you force your eyes up, looking across the little shop until they land on the owner of that voice you know so well. the voice that used to make snarky remarks into your ear in public just to make you laugh. the voice that would always sound so lax in the mornings as you ate your slightly burnt breakfast. the voice that whispered out âi love youâs over and over along your jaw before you went to sleep every night.
the voice of your ex, who should quite frankly be anywhere but here.
itâs been months now, almost a year actually, and youâve been doing so good. youâve stopped letting his name accidentally slip through your lips while talking with your friends. youâve stopped stalking through his social medias, even unfollowed him on all of them. youâve rearranged your apartment so that it wouldnât remind you of how he always sat on the left cushion of the love seat. youâve started buying a new brand of toothpaste so your mouth wouldnât taste the same type of mint as his.
youâve been doing so good in forgetting about your ex boyfriend, and yet as you see him here now, it feels like youâre bumping into him after a high school volleyball game all over again, fingers fumbling to hold the sign with his number on it. that warmth settles in your belly, and it isnât from the baked good you just ordered.
âissei,â you say before you can stop yourself, because a part of you needs to know if itâs actually him. deep down you do, but some portion of your brain is trying to convince you he just looks similar, has the same hair, stands the same way.
but no, as he turns around you realize youâd recognize those dark eyes anywhere.
âyn,â he replies, in the same tone as you, blinking for a moment. it seems heâs facing the same internal battle, the same war about whether youâre really who he thinks you are too. âyou still come here?â
âevery tuesday and thursday,â you answer, taking a step forward as you grab your drink off the table. âi likeââ
âhow oddly quiet it is in the middle of the city,â mattsun finishes for you, edges of his lips turning up into what you know is a ghost of the smile he always gave to you. âyeah.â
âyeah.â you nod, and for some reason your cheeks are heating up. you turn your head away, pretend to mess with the straw in your drink, anything to settle your slowly building nerves. because this shouldnât be happening. he shouldnât be here. he should be off in tokyo doing god knows what.
âoh, right. actually, iwaizumiâs coming back from america this week so he kinda suggested we all come back home to meet up. reminisce a little, you know?â
shit, youâd said that out loud.
âo-oh! thatâsâthatâs great! yeah, oikawa had told me he was coming back and invited me out to dinner, i just didnât know that uhm, youâd be there. it seems he failed to mention that part,â you smile, biting the inside of your cheek.
your shoulders are tense and you might bust your cup any second from how hard youâre gripping it, but you canât help it. this whole thing is just so crazy for you, and it wasnât supposed to happen.
âif me coming is a problem then i can tell them i canât make it. i donât want to make you uncomfortable or anything around me,â issei offers immediately, because of course he does, thatâs how he always is.
âi could never be uncomfortable around you.â
the words come out before you can stop them, and you want nothing more than to scream and curl into a ball. you arenât lying, but that almost makes the matter worse. the way mattsunâs eyes soften at you, just a bit, makes you want to crawl under the table. you shouldnât have a flutter in your chest. you shouldnât.
âgood,â he smiles, sideways and charming, just like how you remembered it. he opens his mouth to speak again, your eyes darting to it for just a second, but is cut off by the barista calling his name for his order.
he quickly excuses himself to walk over and grab the two coffees he ordered and it dons on you now that he has one more than necessary. and it really isnât any of your business, but.
âmeeting someone?â you ask, pinching and twisting the straw in your own drink, trying to sound indifferent. like you donât care. because you shouldnât care. he isnât your boyfriend. and yet.
âjust makki. the idiotâs waiting for me at the train station already. you know how he is about stuff like that.â
that answer shouldnât make you as happy as it does.
âwell i hope you two have fun then! i guess iâll see you friday? for dinner?â you make your way to the door, yanking on it to open it as mattsun follows you. you step out onto the sidewalk, and it gets just a tad bit louder.
âyep,â he nods, that same little grin tugging at his lips. âi guess iâll see you then.â
this is the moment when the two of you are supposed to walk away, maybe give a little wave and just carry on with your day. because this isnât anything special. itâs bumping into an ex, a normal awkward occurrence for most people. but the only thing awkward right now is that you really donât want to watch him walk away again.
âright, well,â issei is the one to break the silent stare. and as he turns, you swear you see a tint of pink dusting the tops of his ears. âsee you.â
you nod, give him a little smile, and turn on your heel to walk in the direction opposite of the train station. you dig your phone out of your pocket to immediately call oikawa, because he deserves the ass chewing of a lifetime. and when you look backâjust to glance over your shoulder to be safe, not because you wanted one last look at your ex, no wayâyour heart skips when you see issei smiling after you, not having moved a single step.
heâs looking at you just like he used to, and you arenât sure whether you hate it or not.
youâre laying on your couch now, staying up much too late than you should be for tonight. some shitty romcom is playing, and you boo when they kiss, telling the lead actress she definitely deserves better.
youâve just finished throwing a handful of popcorn at the television screen when your phone starts ringing. you pick it up, frowning at the unknown number on the screen, but deciding to answer it anyways, why not.
you immediately wish you hadnât.
âyn.â
itâs issei, you can tell automatically, his voice has been haunting you nonstop since tuesday. what you donât recognize, however, is the odd tone of his words, the slightest slur on the ends.
âissei?â you ask, sitting up right on the couch, grabbing the remote and muting the tv. âhowâd you get my number?â
youâd gotten a new one after⊠yeah, oikawa had recommended it, said it would be easier on you. and it was. you didnât have to worry about having to fight to not give in to a come back call. that pressure wasnât there.
but now.
âi snooped through makkiâs phone,â he laughs, no, giggles, and that just sounds so wrong coming from him. thereâs a shuffle on the other end of the line, like someone stumbling, then heâs talking again. âwhatâre you doinâ? are yâhome?â
âwhy?â you question, picking at the edge of your t-shirt. you can hear it now, the tilt of drunkenness in his tone, the jarbled syllables.
âcan i come over? miss you sâmuch.â
your stomach churns, ties in sickly thick knots and a frog crawls up into your throat. this isnât fair, he shouldnât be allowed to do this to you. youâyou had a deal! keep your distance, ignore each other, go on with your own lives. those were the rules.
so why the hell is he breaking them.
âyouâre drunk,â you state, mostly as a way to convince yourself that he doesnât mean this. that youâll just get another call in the morning from a raspy hangover voice apologizing for the bullshit he said last night.
that you shouldnât get your hopes up.
âaw, donât sound so irritated, yn. you used tâlove it when i drunk called you,â issei laughs into the other end of the line, causing tears to form along the edge of your waterline.
because heâs right, you did used to love it. you absolutely adored when issei would go out to the bar with some of the boys and call you halfway into the night, telling you how much he loved you and how he wished you were there with him before he got his phone snatched away by one of the others. you found it cute then, endearing even.
now it just hurts.
âsei,â you mumble, trying to force your voice to stay steady, hugging your knees to your chest. âplease donât do this to me.â
âdâwhat?â he asks, and you can practically see that furrow in his brow, the dip in the middle of his forehead that always chisels its way in when he gets confused. âi jusâ miss you. wanted to tell you. what did i do wrong?â
everything, you want to say. nothing, your heart tries to reason. âleave,â your mouth supplies without your approval.
the other end of the line goes silent for a few long moments. you almost think maybe heâs forgotten heâs on call, maybe he passed out drunk off his ass somewhere, maybe he hung up and you didnât hear the beep.
youâre about to check and hang up when, âi regret that every day of my life,â issei whispers into the receiver, and you canât stop the tears from sliding down your cheeks now. âif i could go back, i wouldnât have ever left. never woulda gave up on us. woulda loved you forever.â
you cry silently as you listen, phone pressed to your ear as you bury your face in your knees. itâs hard to deal with this right now, and none of this is fair.
âi think i always will,â mattsun continues, and thereâs a thump, like heâs plopped down somewhere, âllâalways love you, yâknow.â
a sob catches in your throat as you listen to his confession, and what little restraint you had holding yourself back is gone, what partial wall remained up for matsukawa issei has crumbled. and oddly enough, you feel like a kid again, hearing issei admit his feelings for you over a phone call like this after graduation.
most of all, what little part of you was trying to convince yourself you were over issei in the slightest, is completely and utterly dissipated.
âissei, iââ
thereâs a shout on the other end of the phone, something along the lines of who the hell are you calling? from who you register to be makki before thereâs a shuffle and three beeps, signaling the call ending. you choke on another sob as you press the phone to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut.
âi love you too.
itâs friday.
you didnât get any sleep last night. a recap of your short phone call with mattsun replayed in your head over and over all night long, and does even now, as you get ready for your small reunion dinner. mattsun never called you back this morning. you think maybe he just forgot it all in his drunken state.
and youâre not entirely sure which is worse: him forgetting or him regretting. because in your mind those are the only two options.
you think about it then, as you finish getting dressed. then, as you drive to the restaurant oikawa texted you the directions too. then, as you sit down next to him and wait for the others to arrive. and slowly but surely the rest of your old friends show up. you hug them all, iwaizumi giving you a peck on the cheek, makki swaying the two of you side to side. but then mattsun arrives and, well.
âhey,â he whispers, placing his hand on the back of your ribs. you feel something akin to fire bloom in their wake. you offer a hushed âhiâ in return, swallowing as he leans in closer. âcan we talk?â
you look at him, narrowing your eyes. youâve always hated when he used that tone, still do in fact, and he registers that as soon as he sees the pouty look. slinging an arm around your shoulder to hide the way he whispers into your ear.
âdonât worry, i just need to get some things off my chest. after dinner, okay?â
he pulls away, offers you a lopsided grin, and takes his seat. you spend the rest of the night seated across from your ex boyfriend, who apparently canât keep his eyes off you. keeps looking to you to see if you laugh at his jokes, eyes you as you hum around a spoonful of dessert, stares at you as you talk about all youâve been up to lately.
dinner ends and the five of you stand outside. itâs colder than you thought it would be, and you canât deny the goosebumps spreading across your arms. you jump a little when a jacket is placed around your shoulders, two warm hands resting for just a moment before pulling back.
âwell, iâm gonna head back to the hotel, you coming?â makki announces, jerking his head at mattsun.
the man beside you shakes his head, waving his friend off. ânah, iâm gonna stay and catch up with yn a little more.â
and that gets the two of you whistles from your three friends, only cutting off when you throw glares in their directions and threaten to punch them into next week. your threat is enough for them to all disperse, waving as they walk off and promise to get together again soon, leaving just you and issei together on the sidewalk.
âso,â he clears his throat, breaking the tension as he walks beside you, taking you to your car. âabout last night.â
âdonât worry about it,â you immediately dismiss, smiling with a shake of your head. âwe all say stupid things when weâre drunk. itâs no big deal.â
he stops instantly, and you have to turn back to look at him. heâs staring at you like youâve just said something totally offensive, as if he canât believe the words coming out of your mouth. your heart tugs at that, remembering how heâd give you those looks constantly when you were together.
âi see a year hasnât helped you become any less stupid,â he huffs, stepping forward and gripping the front of the jacket he placed over your shoulders, tugging you to him. âi meant every word of what i said, yn. drunk or not, iâm still in love with you. thatâs never going to change.â
this time, as you look up into those dark eyes that youâve missed so much, your chest aches for a different reason. it takes you a moment, a second to convince yourself that yeah, issei is telling you the truth. and when it finally fully hits you, you canât help the idiotically wide smile that stretches across your face.
ânever?â you ask, placing your hands on top of mattsunâs pressing impossibly closer to him.
ânever,â he confirms, lips slowly mirroring your smile, eyes softening more and more by the second, dully blazing in the dim street lamp glow.
âthen letâs go home,â you say, laughing against isseiâs lips as he leans in for a kiss, then continues to pepper them all across your face before pulling you flush to his chest and wrapping his arms around you tight.
âyeah,â he murmurs, leaning to steal another kiss again, âletâs.â
it was supposed to be easy.
iâm moving to tokyo. iâm staying here. that was the plan. when things ended, one of you would root yourself and the other would leave to grow. the avoidance and leaving and forgetting was all supposed to be easy.
and yet the only easy thing, was falling back into each other.
what the fuck..... most opressed athlete in this sport is the american skater that gets overscored at least 20 points in every competition because *checks notes* figure skating is homosexual lgbtq dominated?
title: after midnight
pairing: jeon jungkook x reader
genre: angst, smut, fluff, fwb!au, fuckboy!jk, doctor!reader
prompt:Â jeon jungkook only likes seeing you after midnight.
warnings: unprotected explicit smut, cursing, dirty/inappropriate talk, mentions of sex
word count: 39.2k
status: completed
