@miss-rin‘s request: “Where Daichi reunites with the reader several years after highschool… She’s messed up from her last relationship, but wants to try again…. With a fluffy ending though, please!!”
a/n: eeee this was really therapeutic to write. i know it’s a little on the longer side of things i usually post, but i wanted to set it up well. enjoy some angst to fluff Daichi content bb <33333
It’s strange. Staring at your textbook, your fingers brushing against its textured, thin pages, you hadn’t noticed the tiny droplets forming on the sheets below. Only when you recognized its salty taste did you realize you were the source. You lean back, using the table to tilt your chair onto its back legs, balancing there for a minute to keep your tears from staining anything else on the desk.
With all the mentions of bonds and fusions, somehow chemistry homework has brought you back into the reality of your current life crisis.
It’s not like you hadn’t expected tears, but did they have to overtake every aspect of your life?
In public. Walking through the park. At 4 in the morning.
It was cruel, really.
That even after a year of complete distance, everything insisted on reminding you of him.
—
Your ex was supposed to be a one night stand. A ploy to get over a deeply established crush. You were running from young, uncertain love, pushing it down, and drowning it all in heavy doses of pleasure. But weekend-after-weekend, your interactions with this mystery hookup turned into regular flings.
From there, you allowed something deeper to develop.
You started sharing with him.
Lying on the bed, limbs entangled, panting subsided. You released small thoughts and simple secrets into the dark of the night. Maybe he would capture those words, pondering them, making a space for them in his mind. Maybe he would let them drift by, like white noise and formless background music.
But it didn’t matter. You spoke anyway.
Nights passed and you would let out more gentle, whispering comments. Insecurities, dreams, stories.
And at some point, he started responding. Listening. Mulling over your words. Whether you meant for it to happen or not, things grew personal. He became your stand-in security blanket, pulling you in and showing you his own little world. You didn’t care if it was fabricated and make-believe.
Because for the first time, it seemed like someone reciprocated your words and actions. You were no longer relying on past passions and feelings because you were so busy drowning in the touch of a stranger. He gave you endless chances to let go of your greatest love and high school infatuation. And you took each one.
You pushed yourself to like him. You asked him to be exclusive. He agreed.
Because his touches were soothing. The way his arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you into his chest and whispering dirty, sugar-coated words into your ears. It made you feel wanted. Needed. Like maybe this could be the one. Like maybe you didn’t need the brown-eyed boy from so long ago.
Yes, your ex’s hold on you was physically tight…
But his intentions were loose and undefined. Eerily disconnected from the reality you had pictured yourself in.
In the back of your mind, you knew something was off. The puzzle pieces that tied your interactions together were either damaged or missing. Information and stories didn’t match up.
At some point, he started coming home wearing the scent of sex and perfume. Fragrances that didn’t belong to you. All of the staying out late and leaving the bed early… He was clearly cheating on you.
But ignorance is bliss… and you were swimming in it.
You now realize he only told you what you wanted to hear. Little, white lies iced with sweet, generous promises.
What did you expect? That he actually needed you? Why would this stand-in boyfriend be any different?
Finding him on top of a girl in your bedroom should’ve cut you deeper. It should have left you with your knees collapsed and your fingers painfully digging into the carpet. You could have screamed and cried, kicked something, at least outwardly shown your pain.
Yet all that came over you was a dizzying numbness. So you shut the door, closing yourself off to their shocked expressions. Cutting yourself off from another failed love attempt. A worthless endeavor.
—
You’re still fighting a losing battle against hot, streaming tears in the library.
You wish the tears stemmed from the breakup. It would be a logical justification for your pain. Yes, it would be easier to cry over something present… or at least something sensible.
But fate is fickle and so are your emotions. Fragile and nostalgic.
Because you aren’t choking on sobs in the campus library over that unloyal asshole.
No, your mind was fully centered on Daichi. The one person who had actually made you feel whole. Who regularly told you how much he wanted you.
You could’ve drowned in his warm, honey-glazed gaze. He drew you in, submerging you in a euphoric, blissfully intoxicated state.
Memories flittered back to you. How he would always comfort you, using his firm shoulder as a pillow during after school hours to cry or sleep on when life began to smother you.
How he snuck up behind you in the schoolyard, grabbing you by the waist, lighting a fire inside you that filled you with warmth and made your stomach do somersaults. It was playful. Lighthearted. So very Daichi.
And you wanted more. More than platonic. More than best friends.
His touches were nothing like your ex.
It was like gentle floating fireflies, blinking and flickering in a field at dusk. Consistent but surprising. Sensitive, feathery, and comforting. Not at all greedy or dismissive.
You didn’t have to think twice about it. Daichi still remained in the softest parts of you.
But it doesn’t matter anymore. He isn’t coming back to save you. To take you by the hand and rekindle whatever it was you two had shared back then.
Because Daichi wasn’t ready to commit.
He had told you how he felt. How he wanted you so badly that it physically hurt him. That he wanted to be there for you, by your side, hand-in-hand.
But he just wasn’t ready to follow through. Not with graduation and change so near in sight. Not with the possibility of losing you just as soon as you’d become his.
You knew he was right. College shifted you two into completely separate directions. 12 hours to be exact.
You and Daichi were at the right place at the wrong time.
But as you drifted, the words morphed and manipulated themselves in your mind. They echoed a tone that claimed that you were the faulty one. That you weren’t ready. You weren’t lovable enough. He didn’t want to commit to you.
So naturally, you equated it with not being enough for him. That it was some silly, unfounded puppy-love. Just a bunch of hormones and high schoolers.
So you tried to bury your longing for him, making countless mistakes in the process.
You had changed. This was your life now. Broken, exhausted, and weathered.
In defeat, you close up the heavy, tattered textbook, gently maneuvering it into your backpack and take your leave from the softly lit library. You’ve suffered enough for one day, so you may as well give yourself a break from studying.
As you make your way out the door, you feel an unexpected buzz in your back pocket, your phone lighting up with a notification. You reach a hand back to check it.
3:47 pm - sawamuradaichi38 followed you
You stop abruptly, feet planted in the doorway, eyes processing the words before you.
“Shit.”
Daichi…
High school Daichi.
The “I was just crying over how much I hate missing you 5 minutes ago,” Daichi.
Casting Director: We need a badass, weapons-trained, female action star to play a kickass, virtuous, patriarchy-destroying heroine with a tragic back story who is obviously wlw.
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