𝒃lurb ﹕ entranced by a melody from the music room, a bench player finds himself drawn to a fellow musician. ╱ 𝒘𝒄 # 1.7k
— 𝒂uthor's 𝒏ote ﹕ NO idc if one of the pictures isnt a bass guitar. it fits the vibe stfu
requested ☆
semi didn't really mean to walk in on you.
he just couldn't help doing a double take and circling back the moment he heard the soft strums of the bass guitar.
standing, at the door he watches you, his gaze intent. your back is turned, hunched over, humming melodies under your breath.
its only a few small notes since you're just tuning the guitar, but to semi, its a beautiful song, serenading him. the melody chills him all the way from his head to his toes.
it's music to his ears no shit, and he can't stop listening, enraptured.
suddenly, the strumming stops. your back straightens. you turn around.
there's no one there – semi is gone.
—
the music room is close to the gym.
sometimes, semi hears it – the melodies, tunes and beats, and he swears it's you. but then again, how would he know? he's heard you literally once.
tendou notices. he always does.
"semi semi pooo," he sings, coming right up close and personal. semi automatically moves back, and tendou huffs, his mouth pulling downwards.
"why do you keep glancing at the door? tryin' to get rid of me that easily?" he makes a pouting expression that does not suit him. at all.
"yeah. i am. you're annoying as fuck." semi deadpans. well, at least that last part isn't a lie.
"semi-san." ushijima's deep voice interrupts tendou's gawking face, whose mouth is open to retort. "would you like to come and set this ball for me?"
tendou snickers. "yeah, he'll come for sure. right, semi semi?" shirabu chokes on his water from where he's standing in corner.
"no! semi, set for me instead! please!" goshiki's talking now, his words spilled rushed and quick, like he's scared someone will stop him.
"sorry, goshiki. ushijima asked first." inside, semi's just a little relieved. goshiki tended to be quite.. responsive whenever he missed the ball.
giving the music room in the distance one last look, he walks over to ushijima, ball in hand.
—
semi finds himself wandering over to the music room long after practice ends.
it's the sound of music that guides him there, he tells himself. not the promise of you.
semi isn't one to fall easily. but he can't help but falling now, when the chords are absolutely perfect, tying together with the steady rhythm.
you're humming quietly, like last time. semi's being an utter stalker just standing there outside the door, listening. he's just appreciating the music, that's all.
so of course he gets the shock of his life when you interrupt your song by saying softly, "i know you're there."
oh shit
you turn around on the wooden stool you're sitting on and make eye contact with him. semi decides to stand his ground instead of running away. like goshiki would have done
"hi. i couldn't help but listen. i uh, play too. sometimes. electric guitar."
your eyebrows raise, interested.
"were you the one listening yesterday, too?" you put your guitar on its stand and lean forward, your hands clasped together in your lap. "i.. felt your presence."
stupid y/n felt your presence who tf says that you're not in fuckass star wars-
"yes, i was." semi swallows. "uhm. your tempo is off." he's lying. you know he's lying. he knows you know he's lying.
"hm. is it?" you look amused now.
"yeah. but the rhythm is fine, and the pitch. and the tune. and-"
"i get it, semi. jeez." you laugh breathily and pick up your guitar again.
"how do you know my name?"
you pause between a chord, and briefly look at him. "we share a math class together. second period? and you're the setter on the boys volleyball team, right?"
"bench setter. and pinch server." semi corrects you. "shirabu is the new starter on our team. you know shirabu?" he makes a note to start paying attention to who's in his classes.
you rack your brain. "oh, the first year with brownish blond hair? with the lopsided bowl cut? im y/n, by the way. l/n y/n."
"thats the one." semi's about to let out a little huff of laughter, but that would be rude to his junior.
your brows furrow. "but.. why aren't you the starter setter anymore? from what ive seen at one match my friend dragged me to, you were cool. i mean, i had my earbuds in, but you were pretty good."
semi shrugs, his shoulders moving in one fluid movement. "coach washijo wanted to uhm.. mix things up by using first years instead. i guess its working. we've been winning a lot of matches lately. shirabu's a more consistent setter than me."
you don't miss the wild, desperate look in his eyes.
a desire to play.
"it's okay, though, i guess." semi continues. "at least i get to serve sometimes - that's the only time i get to actually be myself and show my skills in a match."
you scoff, plucking a deep, low 'E' note. "washijo can kiss my ass. that raccoon-eyed looking man."
there's a coughing noise at the door, and semi turns around abruptly.
coach washijo is standing there, his eyes angry and gaze focused on you.
"l/n." semi's voice is urgent, pleading for you too look up.
"oh, semi, don't be like that – you know its true. all the man thinks he needs on a team is strength and power." frustratingly, your eyes are still on your guitar, fingers still strumming a soft tune.
coach washijo coughs again, louder this time. your head jerks up, and your face pales.
well shit
"oh! mr washijo, i didn't see you there–"
semi sighs. "well, im just gonna leave–"
"most certainly not, mr semi," washijo says sharply. "you said nothing to defend me. i am your coach."
the ash blond doesn't even answer. he just sits himself down on the nearest chair, head bowed low.
"and clearly you didn't see me, l/n, otherwise you wouldn't have said anything. correct?" washijo eyeballs you, and you gulp.
"yes, sir."
washijo stares at the two of you intently. you, who's still staring at him wide eyed, and semi, who's avoiding eye contact from his chair next to you.
an odd sort of leer comes on his face – its meant to be a grin, but looks more like an intimidating sneer.
"i think an after school detention should do it. for disrespecting a member of the school staff. both of you."
semi's head whips up, then droops again.
you two don't bother protesting. to any other teacher, maybe, but its coach washijo. you'd have better luck growing taller than ushijima.
"yes, sir," you and semi chorus in dead voices.
"also.." washijo starts, "you may bring your guitars. semi, i understand that you also play."
semi looks confused. "why would we need our guitars?"
"just bring them!" he barks, and you nearly jump out of your skin. "play some.. some music or something. together. in the same room. during detention. room 3-2, tomorrow."
then washijo leaves, whistling a merry tune. you didn't know he could whistle, let alone make happy sounds. he always seems so grumpy.
you turn to semi, whose eyes are already on you.
you clear your throat. "you bringing your guitar?"
semi nods. "i guess. no clue why he wants us to make play together, though."
in turn, you shrug and start to zip your guitar in its case.
—
semi's already in the room when you enter, tuning his guitar and strumming notes with a black pick.
"ah, you use that thing," you note, pulling a chair over to sit beside him. nearby, but not too close. "i personally prefer using my fingers. helps me feel more connected to my music."
"well, i find that using a pick makes my notes sound more clear. when i pluck a string, i tend to accidently play other notes too."
to emphasise, semi plays a note with his thumb and sure enough, an echoing note follows it.
you laugh, pulling out your own guitar. "fair. maybe your fingers are bigger than mine."
"wanna find out" "yeah."
for a while, there's quiet, save for the melodies and tunes from your instruments. you still don't understand why coach washijo told you to bring your guitars.
"you know, semi, i was thinking.. you should join the band."
semi falters, accidently dropping his pick. it lands with a soft clatter on the wooden floor. he picks it up, looking thoughtful.
"i thought about it, in my first year," semi explains. "but i figured, with volleyball and stuff, my schedule would be packed. so playing has been more of a hobby for me."
you nod, understanding. then, standing up with your guitar slung around your shoulders, you reach out to him dramatically.
"semi eita, would you do the honors of dueting with me?" you say with a grin.
he blinks at you, and you think he's gonna refuse. gosh, that would be mortifying.
then he stands up. "sure. but what song?"
you hesitate. "ah. i didn't think about that part."
semi snorts.
—
after duetting for a while - the two of you knew quite a variety of songs - you glimpse the clock on the wall that slowly ticks past 6pm.
"holy shit! semi, we've been here for almost three hours!" in a hurry, you promptly push your chair to a corner and put your guitar in its case. semi just sits, watching you.
"uhm, y/n." you glance at him, and his eyes are locked on to yours.
"would you like to meet with me another time? i enjoyed playing with you today. you're pretty good." his words are smooth, confident.
"i-oh, sure." you throw him a beam. "i'd like that too, mr semi. and you're not so bad yourself."
"great. text me." he tosses a folded note at you, and you scramble to catch it.
the fact that he'd prepared it ahead of time makes your heart flutter, and you bite your lip with a grin.
with that, semi leaves the music room, guitar in one hand and a rare smile on his face.
you smirk stupidly to yourself, following his footsteps and shutting the door behind you.
stupid pretty setters and their charm.
im not a bassist, so sorry 👾 if this is inaccurate or pure shit and that it took a while bc i had no motivation💀 why is he so ooc
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day 9 of @vampireaxel, and @varrowe's event — use a green coloring for st patricks day
beo i like otoya and hes like green so..... f2u with written creds + like and reblof... all art is official... oboya...
taglist: @abudasima, @hyakunosuki, @mass-farter, @hauntingmizi
giving otoya another chance was hard. especially with how.. well, how much he’s cheated on you. one day you decided to finally stand up and say you couldn’t take his behavior anymore- so you cut things off, said goodbye, and that was the end of it.
things had gotten better for you, atleast that’s what you told yourself everyday. ‘fake it till you make it’ right? so that’s what you did. you were ‘faking’ it till you made it. but everyday you would miss him.
you missed helping him dye that hair of his green, playing games, and even the dumb face masks you guys would use every now and then. but most importantly you missed his warmth.. the way he made you feel. his smile, the way his eyes and brows would soften when he saw you come up to him..
everthing was just so perfect. too perfect. maybe that’s why he did it. maybe that’s why he chose to hook up with a girl the night you were out of town with your family. did he get bored of you? you didn’t know the answer but all you knew was that you never wanted to feel that stomach sinking feeling ever again.
months had passed. otoya was exceeding higher and higher in his soccer career, and in all honestly you were proud of him, thinking he was happier without you too.
but.. he really wasn’t. he would look at past photos you guys had taken that were still in his camera roll in his phone.. he would let his eyes stay stuck on your own, the way you seemed to carry the sun with you everywhere you went.
otoya missed you more than he’d ever like to admit, his heart ached, he hadn’t slept with girls like he used to, in fact he completely stopped. and he drowned himself in soccer drills and practice as an attempt to get you the hell out of his head. but it never worked.
then suddenly, to your surprise you received a call from him. the phone buzzed expectantly, and you didn’t know if you should answer it or leave it- or just block him for good.
but no, you picked up, and spoke.
“hello?” you asked, only to be met with another hello, this time from the man on the other end, aka otoya.
otoya let out a shy ahem, clearing his throat. which was a shocker for you, you never thought you’d hear a hint of embarrassment in this man’s tone. “listen— [name], we’ve gotta talk.” otoya starts, as soon as you let out a breath to speak- he hears and speaks quickly again,
“i suck— okay— i know i fucking suck. and i ruined our relationship by letting other girls.. delude my head and im so.. fucking sorry.” well that was unexpected.
as soon as you were about to say something- he spoke once more. “you were the first person i ever took seriously— the first person i actually.. really really liked, [name]. i want that again.”
“please .. one more chance. just one more is all i ask for and then i’ll be out of your life for good, i swear.”
otoya pleaded desperately, a tone you had never heard before. “really.?” your voice faded off. “i— don’t really know what to say, eita.” you called him by his last name. “how do i know you won’t go and do the same thing again? like you always did.”
“i understand.. i know, i know i fucked up. but i love you-” even otoya himself paused. did he just say he loved you? hell yeah he did.
“i fucking love you,” he repeats. so many f bombs he was dropping but it only emphasized his point.
and so moving on from that day forward, you gave him another chance. one you never thought you’d give him.
somehow, the relationship and bond you two shared felt stronger and .. less stressful than it used to be. it felt real. everything was.
finally after months and months of building that trust up day by day, you let him in. finally breaking down your barriers you held up and let him properly ask you to be his girlfriend.
