summary: leaving him isn’t always as easy as you think it is.
featuring: miya osamu, hanamaki takahiro [previously: kageyama tobio]
tags: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, fwb to lovers, exes to lovers, slight suggestive content
miya osamu + pushing away
osamu is not a very good boyfriend. he’s understandably busy, he’s not very attentive, and he doesn’t need you as much as you need him. he comes home late, quietly, and slips into bed beside you as if you were there for decoration.
you knew all this when you started dating. it’s what you love most about him: how mature he is, how independent, as if he could take the world on without anyone else. and yet, sometimes, you wish he needed you even a little.
without even realizing it, you start to resent him for it. you want to prove that you, too, could live without him.
what’s with the attitude? he asks a week after you’d made your resolution. you shrug, going back to your phone. there was nothing to say, after all. it’s how he’s always been. quit bein’ weird, he huffs, turning away towards the kitchen, yer bein’ annoying, y/n.
you remembering the trembling of your lip, the tightness in your chest. there’s only so much you can take. staring at his back, the strong, broad shoulders that stand tall without you, you think: maybe he really doesn’t need you.
so you take your phone, your coat, and you leave. you curl up on your friend’s couch, and wonder why you ever bothered in the first place. he wouldn’t even notice.
but at six the next morning, before osamu usually goes to open his store, there’s banging on the door, and he’s standing there, looking flustered. he’s holding his phone in his hand, as if he had been calling you. you blink.
“where have ya been?” he breathes, “ya didn’t come home last night.”
you open your mouth, taking in his disheveled appearance, and close it again. “i thought...” you murmur quietly, “...i thought you wouldn’t notice.”
“an’ why wouldn’t i notice if ya didn’t come home?” he demands, looking past you to the couch full of your blankets, “why’d ya sleep here?”
“i just...” you try to find the words, “you seemed annoyed with me yesterday.” and all the days before that, too, you think to yourself.
“i was,” he retorts without missing a beat, “but doesn’t mean i don’t want ya with me every night.”
as you stare at the lines on his face—his unkempt hair, his furrowed brows—you realize then that maybe you’re the one who had misunderstood your relationship. miya osamu had never been a good boyfriend, but you loved him anyway, and that wouldn’t change.
“let’s go home,” he urges, holding his hand out, “...i missed ya, y’know.”
hanamaki takahiro + moving away
it’s not like you guys had ever been together officially. hanamaki didn’t often do things seriously, including relationships. you knew this, never expecting more even as months of regular late night calls went on for close to a year.
you had never wanted to define the relationship either, maybe because you were scared of the answer, maybe because you had convinced yourself that sleeping with him was enough. maybe you thought you wouldn’t be good in a relationship anyway, since this arrangement with hanamaki was working so well. but this caused other problems, ones that you couldn’t run away from.
i got transferred, you said to him on your last night together, i’m moving away next week.
oh, that sucks, he had said, his face impassive, do you need help packing?
he had no commitments to you after all, you reason. in fact, he had no commitments at all—no job to tie him down here and already living away from his family. there had been a part of you that wanted him to ask, can i come?
but he hadn’t, and you’re staring at your new empty apartment, with boxes that he’d helped you pack. you’d left him with the most honest words you could muster, repressing the desires that had been swirling inside you for almost a year. i’ll miss you, you told him, and pressed a kiss to his temple.
you hadn’t asked him to come, even though it was all you thought about. you hadn’t asked him to come, so why was he standing on your doorstep, his belongings crammed into a single suitcase?
“takahiro?” you ask, your voice wavering, wondering if he was really here.
he fidgets, looking away. “...hey,” he says finally.
“i know, uh, that you didn’t ask me to come,” he starts nervously, “but i thought— i was hoping... that you’d have me anyway.”
but you didn’t want to make the same mistake you’d made your whole relationship. you didn’t want to lie next to him at night, your pinkies barely touching, asking yourself what you were to him.
“but...” you whisper, backing away slightly, “...what does this mean for us?”
he’d thought hard about why you hadn’t asked him to come. hadn’t you guys spent the past year with each other? hadn’t that meant anything to you? but, he thinks, looking at you now, asking him about us: he hadn’t made it clear, not with barely a toothbrush to tie you down to him.
hanamaki steps forward, taking a chance. he smiles crookedly, taking your hands into his. your breath hitches when he intertwines your fingers, twisting them around his own even when you try to pull away.
“it means that i’d follow you anywhere,” he suggests gently, tugging you towards him, “it means that i want to build a life with you.”
