Depends on the mood, but it's usually something sweet. Hot chocolate, taho, cake, gummies. Stuff like that ^_^
How many languages do you speak?
Two (English and Filipino). 여기 한국어도 대답하고 싶지만 나보다 1살 한국인 아기는 더 말하고 이해할 수 있는 것 같은데 😅 I can understand Bisaya to an extent, but attempting to speak it... An anecdote as an example: I once told my friend while we were crossing the road to hurry up so we wouldn't bleed through our skirts. (Ligsan = get hit by a car. Lapsan = bleed through one's clothes [when on their period])
Random fact about yourself
One time, I accidentally stapled my pointer and middle finger together. (Don't hold a stapler backwards, kids.)
Something you’re proud of
When I was around thirteen, we visited a relative's farm. While walking with my sisters, there was a dog (medium size, light coat, think coffee with lots of milk and clots of cream here and there) that approached us unprompted, and out of the three of us, it put its front paws on my tummy so it could smile up at me. We all showered it with lots of love, but even after it got tired and had to go down on all fours to rest, it stood back up against me again. The sun was blistering and my throat was a desert, but the pure joy and peace that moment gave me will stick with me till I die, I think. ^_^
the most recent pet i've had was a fish (dutifully named fish), but unfortunately he is no longer with us </3 but i'd love to have a cat one day!
comfort food?
lollipops.
how many languages do you speak?
i'm only fluent in english as of rn! but i'm learning spanish in school. i also hope to learn tagalog one day!
random fact about yourself.
i love canva. i also do colorguard!
something you're proud of.
making my school's yearbook class! a lot of my friends that were ― arguably ― better qualified for the position were rejected, which made me as equally confused as it did proud of myself.
tags: @poochiluvr @cloveletter @toratism @vmxkk
no pressure only goes to laila i'm forcing the rest of you to do it (joke)
over the few months you’ve been sakusa’s manager, you’ve ingrained daily video calls into your schedule.
it wasn’t hard to tell that sakusa thought calls were inconvenient, to say the very least. the slight tick of his eye and the clench of his jaw were difficult to miss, even if he bit his tongue in the name of professionalism. you understood, really. no one would want to be disrupted early in the morning, especially when they’re someone who has a carefully crafted routine like sakusa — which is why you insisted on aligning these calls with his schedule, instead of deciding for him. it seemed to satisfy the spiker enough, seeing that he appeared much less tense almost immediately after.
however, you’re starting to regret not bringing it upon yourself to dictate a time — especially when the back of your eyes are burning and it’s hard to breathe because it’s six in the morning and you’re sick.
“good morning, sakusa,” you groggily greet. you internally cringe at your voice, scratchy and making your throat hurt. you’ve opted to have your camera off just this once — you prefer to keep it on, as it makes these exchanges a little more humane, but you think your appearance is far too unfortunate for someone else to see right now. your hand runs through your hair, and you wince when your fingers get caught in a knot.
sakusa’s camera is on, however, and the sound of pots clinking against one another fills the air around you. when he re-enters the frame, he’s focused on the meal he’s making, only mumbling a short greeting back.
you take a swig of water and clear your throat, hoping that it helps with the ache, before beginning with sakusa’s schedule for today.
“let’s begin,” you start, “you’re free until 1 this afternoon, where you have a promotional shoot with hinata, bokuto, and miya. it should last until 3 or 4, depending on how long they take to prepare the four of you.” your words are curt and straightforward, and you hope that sakusa doesn’t notice. typically, you’d attempt small talk with him, but you’re currently trying to savor the last of your voice.
“knowing miya, he’ll probably manage to drag it until 6 in the evening,” the spiker grumbles, and you can’t help the raspy (and tired) laugh that leaves you. a cough follows soon after, and if sakusa wasn’t able to tell that you were sick before, he definitely can now.
you watch as his eyes flit to his phone, a questioning look on his face. they roam around the screen for a moment, and you nervously wait for his reaction.
“are you sick?” sakusa bluntly asks. his eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s stopped stirring whatever he’s preparing on the stove. despite the fact he can’t even see you, you abashedly look away from your screen.
you’re tempted to deny it, but you know it’d be a futile attempt anyway. so, you relent, sighing out an affirmation. “yes, i am. i won’t be present at the shoot today, but you can expect the other three managers to be there. if you need anything, you can call me.”
“no, i’ll be fine, but you shouldn’t be doing anything if you’re sick.” sakusa replies, turning away from his phone to move his food onto a plate. selfishly, you allow your eyes to rack down the wide expanse of his back, appreciating the way his compression shirt hugs his figure. it becomes clear that you were staring for too long, though, when sakusa turns back around, plate in hand and waiting for your response.
you have it in you to feel the slightest bit embarrassed, even if he can’t see you.
“sorry,” you sheepishly murmur, “i can assure you that i’ll be okay, sakusa. i’ll be working from home today.”
“again,” he says, voice a tad harder than it was before, “you shouldn’t be doing anything if you’re sick. even if you’re working from home. is that everything i have on my schedule for today?”
you’re not sure if sakusa’s being so insistent out of genuine worry for your health, or if he’s concerned that you’ll get him sick if you come to work in your state. “sakusa, i promise you that i’ll be okay in a day or two. and even then, i’ll make sure to wear a mask,” you say, assuming sakusa’s worried for his health. “moving on, though, i believe that’s all on your schedule for today. tomorrow you have your shoot with calvin klein, but i’ll remind you tomorrow morning. you have some pr, too. i believe a brand sent you pickled plums, which are your favorite, if i remember correctly?”
you watch as sakusa shakes his head, sighing through his nose. “i’m not worried about me. i know that you wouldn’t get me sick. but if you keep on working instead of resting, you’re going to get worse, and you’ll be out for longer.”
you’re beginning to become slightly irritated — a mix of tiredness, sickness, and sakusa’s nagging (even if it comes from a good place) beginning to annoy you. regardless, you try to pay no attention to it. once you’re done with this phone call, you’ll rest for another hour or two before doing whatever work you can from home.
“i’m glad that you’re not worried about yourself, but as i said earlier, i’m sure i’ll be fine. i can take care of myself, sakusa,” you curtly reply, hoping that the spiker leaves the topic alone.
thankfully, it seems like he does, because he relents and asks you to give him the pickled plums later on in the week. a few minutes later you’re greeting sakusa goodbye and hanging up, slouching into your mattress and performing a futile attempt at staving off the ache in your temples.
you wake once again hours later to the incessant sound of your doorbell ringing. it’s certainly at least mid-morning, considering the way sunlight is filtering into your room, making your eyes ache.
you stumble over to the door, paying no mind to your appearance and throwing the door open. to your surprise, sakusa is standing in your doorway, impatiently waiting for you to let him in, a plastic bag in hand.
“sakusa?” you gape. if you were being completely honest, he was the person you were least expecting to see right now — especially because you’re sick. he’s staring at you incredulously, like it’s not insane for him, out of all people, to willingly be around someone else while they’re ill.
“you’re sick, right? i have soup and medicine,” he grumbles, “are you going to let me in or not?”
you blink, before barely coming to your senses enough to open the door for him to step through. he does so immediately, taking long strides towards your dinner table to set the food down. then, he turns to you, and you have to resist the urge to curl into yourself. your head is pounding, you can hardly breathe through your nose, and you’re sure you look absolutely terrible right now. fuck professionalism, i guess, you sarcastically think. you’re not sure if you’ll ever allow yourself to live this moment down, even if you spend hours trying to forget about it.
“you didn’t…have to do this, sakusa,” you murmur, still somewhat in shock. and it seems that he’s just full of surprises today, because sakusa laughs, and you’re as surprised as you are annoyed because he’s laughing at you.
“you’re my manager, i can’t have you dying on me,” he nonchalantly replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “now get back to bed. i’ll prepare the soup for you and get you some medicine.”
you’re tempted to cuss at him, but decide that your entire body is far too weak to stay standing anymore, so you listen and make your way towards your room. sakusa doesn’t take very long, coming back with the items he promised and a damp towel — where’d he even find that?
and you think you’ve never seen sakusa so gentle before, placing the towel onto your forehead and handing you the warm soup. you eat it all in one go, not having realized how hungry you truly are, and graciously take the medicine sakusa offers you once you’re done.
“...thank you, sakusa, you didn’t have to do this,” you say, feeling rather guilty that he took it upon himself to take care of you.
sakusa only scoffs in reply. “you basically decide my entire life. everything would be thrown off-course if you weren’t able to work for even a week.”
his response makes you laugh weakly, and you promise him that you’ll be back and better soon.
“i have to go now,” sakusa says, glancing at his phone. you nod, remembering about the photoshoot you reminded him of earlier.
he awkwardly stands still, before his hand comes to rest on top of your head in a strange head-pat. sakusa’s face is slightly flushed pink, an obvious show that he’s flustered.
“feel better soon,” he mumbles, and you thank him with a smile.
(sakusa was ten minutes late to his photoshoot. when asked why by his teammates, they gave him teasing looks when he said he dropped a few items off by his sick manager’s house.)
synopsis: two socially awkward people find a way to live together. roommates to friends, between pre- and post-timeskip, in 2015
word count: 1396
sometimes, you’re sure you share your apartment with a ghost.
you’ll see signs of your roommate--a new plate, washed, placed in the drying rack; a new load of laundry done and hung up to dry; leftovers placed in the fridge--but you have never actually met or seen him before. for all you know, he could have died, and the person in your apartment is actually his ghost, haunting you.
you’ve been living with him for about a month now, although you haven’t seen him in person before, only through pictures on the app you had used to find him. apparently his name is ushijima wakatoshi, and he spends a lot of time out of the apartment playing volleyball. a quick internet search led you to realize he is about the same age as you, twenty, and he’s on the national team. he even went to the olympics last year.
aside from that, though, you know virtually nothing about him. you can sometimes hear him moving around; he comes home after you’ve gone to bed and is gone before you wake up. you never touch his things, not that he has many in the apartment. a couple of weeks ago you had peeked into his room when he was out because the door was left open; inside was a bed, neatly made, and a bedside drawer with one framed picture. fueled by curiosity, you stepped closer, recognizing him in the photo. he was wearing a traditional japanese hakama and was standing next to another young man in the same attire; the one you didn’t recognize had spiky red hair and a cheerful smile on his face. ushijima was standing up straight, facial features stuck in an intimidating glare. this must have been taken at his graduation, you realize.
the desk only had one thing placed on it. it was a shōnen jump magazine, flipped open to the page with an advertisement for shampoo promising glossy, soft hair.
you smiled to yourself--so the olympian was a fan of haircare. the next day you stuck a sticky note to the fridge with your grocery list on it: eggs, milk, tomatoes, strawberries. you left an extra note at the bottom: anything else? going tomorrow.
the next day, he had added shampoo and the exact name of the brand he wanted. he also wrote thank you, in big, thick handwriting, the kind that suggests he grips the pencil a little too hard.
this marked the start of a new tradition: now, every week when you go out to buy groceries, you write your list down on a sticky note and place it on the fridge at night, and in the morning when he wakes up he adds what he needs. after several weeks of this, you start to learn a bit more about your roommate: he now only uses the shampoo that he found in the advertisement, he really likes hayashi rice, and he is trying to learn english. (you find this last part out because he has started writing his notes in broken english, and he asked you to buy an english dictionary.)
you often wonder how he’s doing. he’s barely around, and when he is, his door is always closed. (you can’t blame him, though, you close your door too.) you want to talk to him, ask how volleyball is going, maybe ask why his english is so poor, but every time you hear him come home you chicken out and hide in your room. you have so much you want to say to him, but you can’t find the right words. what do you even say to someone who could mash you into a pulp if he was mad?
so you opt for the sticky notes. your grocery lists turn into short messages: hope volleyball went well; want me to clean your room? i’m dusting tomorrow; and any food allergies? i’m making food and will leave leftovers in the fridge if you want some. and he starts to respond: it did, thank you; yes, thank you; and peanuts, thank you.
over time, you get more bold. one day, you ask him who the other young man in his framed picture is. when you go look the next day, you see that he has responded with the words tendō, my best friend.
if it wasn’t for the picture, you wouldn’t even think he had friends.
but just like that, you know a bit more about ushijima. and through short conversations like these, you slowly start to feel like you actually know who he is. you don’t feel like you’re living with a ghost anymore. you almost feel--do you dare say it?--like you could be friends.
today though, something feels wrong. when he comes home, he shuts the front door a little harder than necessary. you hear his shower running for longer than usual, and when you go to the kitchen you find that there is a half-empty bottle of seltzer water on the counter.
first of all, you think, who drinks seltzer water? but more importantly, what’s wrong? ushijima is normally very organized. he never leaves his things laying around; it’s why you felt so distanced from him in the first place.
you frown thoughtfully. then you take a new sticky note and write down your note: you okay? did something happen at volleyball?
when you wake up in the morning, there is new writing under yours: my receives were less than satisfactory.
hm. you don’t quite understand what he means. i’m sorry, you write under his message. if it's any comfort, i made your favorite. in the bowl on the counter. you’re not very good at cooking, but it’s enough to make a passable hayashi rice.
that night, you pay extra attention when you hear him come home. you hear his footsteps stop in the kitchen, and you hope that he’s reading the note that directs him to the bowl on the kitchen counter that you had left for him (covered with a plate to keep it hot, of course).
you’re pressed up to your door, listening for any movement from him, when you suddenly realize you’re acting a lot like a stalker. so you slowly open your door--it doesn’t creak, thank god. ushijima is sitting with his back to you, hunched over the table and eating the meal you made.
you smile to yourself. finally, in the flesh. from the back, he doesn’t look much different from his photos. this is as far as you’ve ever gotten to interacting with each other. you watch until he’s done eating. he washes the bowl and sets it on the drying rack. you shut the door as he turns around, but you swear he looks at you for a second before he disappears from view.
the next morning, you wake up with your alarm. the sun shines through your window blinds, painting your room with warmth and light. in the kitchen, you notice the new sticky note on the fridge. it’s yellow--you don’t even use yellow sticky notes--and has a picture of a badly drawn flower bouquet on it.
thank you for the meal, ushijima’s handwriting reads. tendō told me flowers are a common way to show appreciation, but it was too late to go out to buy them last night.
you laugh out loud at this. a warm feeling blossoms in your chest, spreading throughout your body to your fingers and toes. it took a while, but you and ushijima are finally acting like real friends (that is, if you overlook the fact that you communicate solely through sticky notes).
you’re eating breakfast when the front door opens. you look up, startled. ushijima steps into the apartment, wearing joggers and a light hoodie. his eyes land on you, and you freeze, your spoon halfway to your mouth. you set it back down into your bowl of cereal, looking at him curiously. for what feels like several minutes, neither of you move or say a word.
he clears his throat. “did you like the flowers?” he asks finally. you nod, numbly. “good.” he walks past you toward his bathroom, then stops and looks down at you. he’s not smiling, but his eyes are softer than usual. “i’m ushijima wakatoshi.”
you look up at him and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“can i have an autograph?”
A/N: inspired by the lovely @narizaki. unedited and written before the poll went out
― synopsis. despite their friends' protests, (name) has sworn off dating. they’re already swamped with college and work; having someone else to worry about is ridiculous when they can hardly take care of themselves. however, when an old childhood promise resurfaces, they might have to reconsider.
― tags & warnings. childhood friends to lovers, they reunite in college, coffee shop au, smau + written, fluff, denial of feelings, marriage pacts, cursing, kys & kms jokes, characters might be ooc (they probably are), gender neutral reader.
― notes. tags are a work in progress as the story continues! this fic is completely safe for work. please please please disregard timestamps or dates on tweets!
― taglist. open! form to be added is here
chapters ― ❀ indicates written content
profiles the normal roommates japan's finest vb players + toru
when tobio enters kuroo’s house, overstimulating is the first word that comes to mind.
his senses are being overloaded — and even that’s a massive understatement. the music is blaring, making him wince, and vibrant lights reflect off of every surface. he can hardly make out anyone’s face. someone hands him a cup as soon as he walks in, and tobio has half the mind to deny the strange mixture of liquid swimming in the depths of it. he brings the red solo cup to his nose, the pungent smell confirming to him that there’s alcohol in it. he thinks it’s probably only made of alcohol.
he attempts to hand it off to hinata, but the orange-haired opposite hitter only shouts at him to live a little and drink it! over the loud 2000s music. hinata is obviously inebriated already, which tobio thinks is impressive considering how they just got to the party. he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised, though, as hinata had always been a lightweight. still, he calls his friend a dumbass before shoving his way through to the kitchen island.
it’s less crowded, giving tobio space to breathe. he was never one for parties, but he did tell his group that he’d drive them to and from. the lighting is much better in the kitchen, so he looks down at his cup and swirls its contents absentmindedly. tobio briefly considers switching his drink out for something non-alcoholic, but decides against it when he realizes that even the fruit punch probably has alcohol in it.
tobio sighs, his eyes scanning around the room. a couple is making out on the counter to his far left, and a few people are taking shots to his right. had it not been for the fact he was trusted to drive everyone back home later tonight, he probably would’ve been sipping on whatever concoction is in his cup or on a can of beer. shots were never really his thing — the stinging sensation at the back of his throat accompanied by the disgusting taste of whatever alcohol had been chosen far outweighed the buzz that followed.
his thoughts wandered off to you — he wondered what you were doing right now.
tobio had seen your tweet, so he figured you were probably in bed, sleeping, or maybe even watching a movie. he considered texting you just to check in, seeing as he had nothing better to do. his fingers drum against his phone screen, before ultimately deciding against it. were the two of you even close enough to justify an impromptu text? yes, you’d become better friends over these past few weeks, but the last thing tobio would want was to disturb you or cross a boundary in any way.
he shoves his phone into his back pocket instead.
tobio was content with staying in his corner and observing everyone, making light conversation with his classmates or friends while they poured their drinks. that way, he’d be in perfect condition to drag his group out when the time came, throwing them into his back seat before leaving their poor roommates to deal with their drunken stupors.
really, he should’ve known — hinata shoyo would always be there to fuck up his plans.
“kageyama!” hinata slurs, stumbling into the kitchen. following him, equally as drunk, was the rest of his group: bokuto, miya, and kuroo. they were all talking loudly while filing into the space, greeting tobio with harsh pats on the back. kuroo seemed the least inebriated, though the flush on his face indicated he was at least tipsy.
from behind them, a few more people entered. he recognized them to be your roommates, becoming familiar with them as his visits became more consistent. while tobio gave hinata a mild face of disgust, he gave everyone else a curt nod.
“you enjoyin’ yerself, tobio?” miya hiccups, accent slipping out. the blonde was leaning on tobio now, and from behind him, he can see bokuto taking another shot. akaashi stands beside him, equally amused as he seems to be exasperated at his boyfriend’s antics.
“i’m okay, thank you miya.” tobio replies, face plain.
“he’s probably missing (name),” kuroo teases, his signature cheshire grin on his face. tobio doesn’t reply, feigning ignorance, but the tinge of pink that covers his face is enough of a tell for everyone to let out small coos.
miya cackles, before pointing an accusatory finger at tobio. “hey!” he exclaims, “ya haven’t had anything to drink, have ya?”
dramatic gasps surround them, which only confuses tobio. he’s supposed to be driving, so why would he drink? he’d rather not get a ticket or, even worse, an accident while driving under the influence, and he tells them that much.
“not even like, a sip?” bokuto questions. tobio nods in affirmation.
“i bet,” hinata barges in, “i can take more shots than you!”
despite the fact tobio knows it's a bad idea, a spark of competitiveness flickers within him. still, he hesitates.
“c’mon, tobio,” miya says, harshly clapping a hand on his shoulder, “one shot can't hurt!”
tobio relents, a sinister look in his eye as he takes the shot glass from bokuto and downs it. he can hear people whispering that it's probably not a good idea for him to be drinking, and a sensible voice in the back of his head agrees. even though he doesn’t like alcohol all that much, and he definitely doesn't like taking shots, he hates seeing hinata win even more.
and, after about 5 shots, hinata is forcefully cut off by kozume. there’s a pleasant buzz surrounding tobio, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s not in any state to drive, even if he’s probably more sober than his friends. distantly, he can hear someone saying something about calling (name), which makes him perk up immediately.
“(name)...(name) is coming?” he mutters, eyes lazily roaming around the room. someone giggles from around him, but tobio’s too focused on the fact that (name) is coming?
akaashi enters his line of sight, pointing at his phone. even through his drunken haze, he can make out the letters of your name. a fond smile stretches across his face, eyes fluttering closed.
― notes
∘ hinata is SUCH a lightweight i'm sorry.
∘ tobio has an okay alcohol tolerance, but it definitely falls onto the lighter side.
∘ keiji and kenma didn't drink anything. their boyfriends tried to convince them to, but they were very insistent on not. hitoka, on the other hand...
∘ this chapter is really just a build-up for the next; also, i wanted to write something from tobio's pov!
this is going to sound so silly, but i just read your hinata spring/seasons fic and then clicked on your profile and recoiled in shock when i saw that you’re 14 y/o bc your writing is INCREDIBLE. it genuinely flows so well and there’s such lovely descriptions (and also like. accurate language conventions) that i’ve never seen from someone at that age?? guarantee you i wasn’t writing half as well as that when i was even 15 or 16. you’re doing so well and you’ve got such a talent, pls keep it up!!!
hello! don't even worry, this is so incredibly sweet :') i'm so happy that you enjoyed it and my writing as a whole, it means a lot to me! thank you for your support and i hope you enjoy my future works <3
― synopsis. despite their friends' protests, (name) has sworn off dating. they’re already swamped with college and work; having someone else to worry about is ridiculous when they can hardly take care of themselves. however, when an old childhood promise resurfaces, they might have to reconsider.
― tags & warnings. childhood friends to lovers, they reunite in college, coffee shop au, smau + written, fluff, denial of feelings, marriage pacts, cursing, kys & kms jokes, characters might be ooc (they probably are), gender neutral reader.
― notes. tags are a work in progress as the story continues! this fic is completely safe for work. please please please disregard timestamps or dates on tweets!
― taglist. open! form to be added is here
chapters ― ❀ indicates written content
profiles the normal roommates japan's finest vb players + toru
∘ bokuto is terrible at driving ― even when he's driving as carefully as he can, everyone in the car is gripping onto something for dear life. he swerves like every 5 seconds.
∘ hitoka was the only one who genuinely wanted to go to kuroo's party. keiji had to be convinced, along with kenma (which was shown in chapter 9). they wouldn't have gone if not for being threatened to be dragged there.
∘ (name)'s tweet isn't supposed to be freaky or anything LMAO they're legit just gonna stay in bed while everyone else goes to kuroo's party.
tags 4+1, gn!reader, very light angst i think?, fluff
notes the four seasons that pass in shoyo's absence and the one that doesn't, wc 2.4k, this has been rotting in my drafts for like 3 weeks
spring 2016
spring represents many things.
come the new season, spring marks the end of winter. it greets you with blooming flowers and budding trees and animals awakening from their slumber. it rewards you for surviving the desolate season just a month before; the one that was full of powdery snow and gray clouds and the seemingly bottomless pit in your gut.
it signifies the beginning of many things. like the new school year, where you meet dozens of new people and get lost in the hallways and try to keep up with your work. or a new job, where you (once again) have to acclimatize to a new environment in addition to the endless list of demands.
spring symbolizes hope — the birth of something new and shiny and ready for taking.
what people forget, though, is that loss waits for no one. it comes when it wants to; all at once or one at a time, until you’re so full of it that you’re not sure what to do anymore. it forces you to curl into a ball at the end of your bed, your breath the only thing keeping you warm.
you lost many things during spring.
your youth, for one. graduations are meant to be happy ceremonies — celebrating the student for their years of hard work, and wishing them good luck in their future endeavors.
to you, graduation was only a bitter reminder that you and your friends were going separate ways. that you were growing up.
the loss of your relationships followed your youth. even if the majority of your friends weren’t moving far, if at all, there was a mutual understanding that your relationships would drift. it was only natural — balancing friendships with work and school became tiring after a while. when you had sulked over the change of pace, tsukishima had called you stupid and dramatic.
but when you both stood next to each other in the chill of the airport, you knew he understood.
hinata shoyo was someone important to both of you, even if the blonde would rather die than agree. that’s okay — you’d rather have shoyo to yourself.
spring is when you lost shoyo. when he flew across the world to pursue his dreams and to get better so he could continue doing something he loved. you understood; shoyo had been headstrong and put his all into everything he did, even the most mundane. he would go to the ends of the earth if it meant he could keep playing volleyball, and that’s exactly what he did.
it was why you fell in love with him, so you let him go.
summer 2016
you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the summer heat, in the same way you don’t think you’ll ever get used to shoyo being across the world.
tsukishima might’ve been right when he called you dramatic — it’s only been a few months and you think you’ve already been depleted of shoyo, with his bright orange hair and his endless amount of stamina and the positive energy he radiated no matter the circumstances.
he’s kept steady contact with you since his departure, much to your surprise. you’d thought the boy would get too caught up in his head admiring the new scenery and people — so when the first phone call you get is at 3 in the morning the day after he leaves, you’re equally surprised as you are confused.
“ah, sorry!” he exclaimed, having heard you yawn into the phone. “i can call you back later. i forgot what time it was over there. i’m sorry!”
you could only let out a small, tired laugh, telling him it was fine and that any contact was better than none.
neither of you get used to the time difference. shoyo still calls you at ungodly hours in the morning, profusely apologizing when you wake up bleary-eyed with a raspy voice because it’s the middle of the afternoon in brazil. you still call him at the start of each day, when it’s far too late for an athlete to be awake.
he always picks up.
you don't mention it, nor do you allow yourself to think too deeply about it.
the two of you talk about everything and nothing at once. shoyo tells you of his introverted roommate and his new job as a delivery boy — you think the way he gushes over the bike he uses to commute is cute. you talk about your job, and how he should be glad he decided to not go to college because fuck does it suck. you’ve pulled more all-nighters than you have in your entire life within the few months that have passed.
“did you ever find your wallet?” you ask. shoyo had texted you a week ago, sulking over how someone plucked his wallet from his back pocket when he got lost. you knew it was special to him — natsu had gotten him it, after all.
“no, i didn’t,” he sighs, and you frown. “but! i did run into oikawa!”
“ah, yeah,” you giggle, “saw the photo you sent. did you send it to kageyama?”
“sure did! had to show off to him,” he bragged, “oikawa and i went to one of my favorite restaurants. think he helped me out of my slump from losing my wallet. hey, if you ever come to brazil, i’ll be sure to bring you there!”
“i’ll be waiting. and, slump?” you question. you knew losing something valuable would suck for anyone, but you weren’t aware it’d pulled the spiker into a depressed state. it wasn't in shoyo’s nature to be depressed, you mused. typically, he was the one pulling people out of their slumps.
“yeah, i got all homesick and stuff when i found out i lost it,” shoyo replies, much quieter. “it was like i lost a piece of home, y’know. i miss you guys.” his voice trails off at the end, an almost melancholy hint to it.
you’re unsure what to say — in your few years of knowing him, you can count the number of times you've seen shoyo genuinely upset on one hand. you hope your hum of understanding comforts him.
“well, if it makes you feel any better, everyone back here misses you too.”
you resist the urge to say that you miss him.
“i’d hope so,” is his reply.
fall 2017
fall welcomes you kindly. you become better-accustomed with managing your time, and school no longer has as harsh of a hold on you as it did during the blazing months of summer in your first year of college. a soothing chill has settled along the city — not cold enough to make your nose twitch and turn red, but you’ve started wearing an extra layer and covering your neck with the scarf you bought with shoyo when you were second years.
you and shoyo still talk rather often — although the phone calls have noticeably slowed, as he’s found himself a solid partner for beach volleyball. heitor, if you recall correctly. you suppose it’s your fault as much as it is his, even if you know you could never truly blame him. while you have gotten better at balancing schoolwork, it’s only diminished the small amount of free time you already had.
you’re not mad. you don’t think you could even feel upset at shoyo for something you should’ve seen coming from the start. what were you expecting? you should’ve known that you would drift away from him, because you knew that was what happened to almost everyone after they graduate highschool. you knew this — it was the first thought you had when you had received the slip of paper that signified the end of your youth.
you suppose you’d grown too used to shoyo’s presence to notice the change earlier.
you try to talk to shoyo as much as he talks to you, but he’d always been better at it. it was in his nature to be social more than it had been yours, if his endless number of friends were to tell you anything. you’re sure he’s made good relations in brazil, even as a foreigner.
sometimes, you’ll see his occasional posts online of his endeavors — photos of the beach when the sun has barely risen, the ocean sparkling in the light, or they’ll be of the food he’s made, usually a homely japanese dish. you’ve even seen a picture or two of him watching one piece on a dinky t.v., and you distantly remember shoyo telling you about how he was able to bond with his roommate over the show.
you hope he’s doing well — conquering his dreams, that is.
winter 2017
winter does, as expected, not treat you nicely.
the chill it brings engulfs your entire figure, forcing you to wear layer upon layer and keep a few extra heat packets in the pockets of your backpack. even if fall gave you time to prepare, it will never be enough with the way winter comes at you with full force.
you suppose that’s why so many holidays occur during winter — christmas, new years, valentines day…the list goes on. people need a reason to distract themselves from the biting cold that forces a hole open in their hearts, only to close when the weather warms once again.
winter only widens the ever-present one in yours.
you can feel the pit in your stomach open more and more as the days pass. despite school not being in session, your time is filled to the brim with work and other priorities, leaving little to no space for your loved ones. you managed to find time to see your friends from high school — everyone but shoyo. even while karasuno’s old volleyball team is bundled together, complete with coach ukai and takeda, there’s still a space where you know he should be.
and if you look upset staring at an empty space in the wall, no one mentions it.
the holidays pass by with little notice. you join your family in celebrations, greet your high school and college friends alike when they arrive.
you send shoyo the same greetings — albeit with the timing likely off due to the time difference. regardless, he greets you back with the same fervor he’s had since the moment you met him. you like his message, planning on continuing on with your day by staying in bed watching the same three cheesy holiday movies they play every winter. you have work tomorrow, so you hope to savor the small amount of free time you have left, even if it’s spent rotting in bed.
your phone buzzes from next to you, and you’re half-expecting it to be a spam call. when you read the id, you’re surprised to see shoyo’s name — there’d been long enough gaps between calls that you had lost the habit of expecting them, and you recall the most recent one being maybe a month ago.
(the calls have slowed even more. you try to not think about it — try not to let yourself be hurt by it.)
you press accept and bring the device to your ear.
“happy holidays!” shoyo exclaims over the static. even if it’s been over a year since you've last seen him, his energy is still contagious as ever. the corners of your lips quirk up in a nostalgic smile.
“happy holidays, shoyo,” you reply, much calmer than your companion.
conversation comes easily from there — the once empty air around you is filled with the stories shoyo has and your amused giggles. you tell him about his old teammates, and he whines over his and kageyama’s childish scores. for reasons that don't surprise you, they’ve managed to keep track of scores regarding anything they could consider a competition despite shoyo being in another country.
there’s a moment of silence that beats on for a second too long — you’re about to say your goodbyes and hang up, but shoyo takes it as a chance to tell you why he called you.
“i’m coming back this spring,” he says, voice softer than what you’d grown accustomed to. your grip tightens against the pillow you're hugging against your frame, eyes widening.
“really?” you gasp, shocked.
“really.” he repeats, and you know he’s smiling, even if you can't see him.
spring 2018
over the past two years shoyo has spent in brazil, patience is truly a virtue he has learned. mastered, dare he say.
everything took time. cleaning his room. his roommate warming up to him. learning how to play beach volleyball. speaking a new language. maintaining a routine. learning how to fly again.
sometimes, though, he wonders what his life would’ve been like had he stayed in japan. would he still be as strong as he is now, without having to leave his life behind? shoyo knew that his departure was sudden — nobody expects a high schooler to up and leave the country the second they graduate, after all. even kageyama stayed in japan, going to the olympics shortly after they had completed high school.
shoyo knows what he left back in japan when he stood in the airport two years ago. that day, he left everything he knew — his mom, his sister, his friends, volleyball as he knew it, and you.
he’s waited for you for the past two years.
brazil taught him how to be a better volleyball player — showed him the importance of routine and training your body. it taught him to not rush into things, and that everything would come to him in due time.
so, in the same chill of the airport he left you in, shoyo meets you again. you’re staring at him, and it feels as if you are the only people in the building. he knows that his friends are waiting just by the two of you, but all he can focus on is you and the way your lips are slightly parted in awe and how much you’ve grown while he was gone and how much he wants to kiss you.
shoyo takes careful steps towards you, the same boyish grin you’d grown to love adorning his face. you’re frozen in place, but he figures that it’s okay because he’ll come to you. it’s the least he could do after leaving you in his wake just a few years back.
when he’s finally face-to-face with you, you’re still star-struck.
“you’re back,” you breathe.
“i’m back,” shoyo replies. he presses forward, cups your face in his hands, and kisses you, just how he wanted to all those years ago.
he can taste the salty flavor of your tears, and he nearly pulls back in concern, but you stop him. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. there’s an equal mix of cheers as there are sounds of disgust, but neither of you pay any mind.
the only thing that either of you are focused on is the fact that shoyo’s here, and he’s here to stay.
― synopsis. despite their friends' protests, (name) has sworn off dating. they’re already swamped with college and work; having someone else to worry about is ridiculous when they can hardly take care of themselves. however, when an old childhood promise resurfaces, they might have to reconsider.
― tags & warnings. childhood friends to lovers, they reunite in college, coffee shop au, smau + written, fluff, denial of feelings, marriage pacts, cursing, kys & kms jokes, characters might be ooc (they probably are), gender neutral reader.
― notes. tags are a work in progress as the story continues! this fic is completely safe for work. please please please disregard timestamps or dates on tweets! updates every monday & sunday.
― taglist. open! form to be added is here
chapters ― ❀ indicates written content
profiles the normal roommates japan's finest vb players + toru
∘ don't worry kenma said i love you back he just thinks it's funny to say "chat is this real" whenever tetsuro shows any affection. not like it's uncommon, but it bugs tetsuro so it's hilarious.
∘ uhh... sakuatsu crumbs... sorry i couldn't resist it.
∘ also this counted as sakusa's monthly appearance in the gc.
∘ kuroo is a frat bro... idk if japanese uni's even have greek life or anything close to a frat but it makes sense in my mind.
∘ on multiple occasions kenma has made brainrot jokes about the name of kuroo's frat. i would too ngl.
― synopsis. despite their friends' protests, (name) has sworn off dating. they’re already swamped with college and work; having someone else to worry about is ridiculous when they can hardly take care of themselves. however, when an old childhood promise resurfaces, they might have to reconsider.
― tags & warnings. childhood friends to lovers, they reunite in college, coffee shop au, smau + written, fluff, denial of feelings, marriage pacts, cursing, kys & kms jokes, characters might be ooc (they probably are), gender neutral reader.
― notes. tags are a work in progress as the story continues! this fic is completely safe for work. please please please disregard timestamps or dates on tweets! updates every monday & sunday.
― taglist. open! form to be added is here
chapters ― ❀ indicates written content
profiles the normal roommates japan's finest vb players + toru
hi ! just wanted to let you know, your faimiliarity chapter's masterlist link doesnt link back 🥲 loved the chapter so much, though! will definitely binge your series ❤️❤️❤️
hi! thank you for letting me know, i forgot 2 update it when i changed my user lol. i'm glad you enjoyed chapter 6!
dailybridgerton
snowghoul
janainaart
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
