summary: because gifts and faint touches can never satisfy the need of genuine love in a marriage.
cw: marriage, violence.
wordcout: 2.4k.
every evening you blend with the furniture inside your home, and dim lights that barely acknowledge your presence after hours of quietude.
it’s become a habit, no matter the season, the day, the time, you found yourself on that sofa waiting.
for him? perhaps.
dreams sometimes become reality; reality becomes a dream, and in the deep of the night, when you can barely keep yourself up, and your eyes blink infinitely, when everything starts to fall in front of your eyes and it’s so blurry you can barely feel your fingers, you’re certain about one thing:
your husband doesn’t love you anymore.
you’ve heard about marriage before.
but when you’re young, is there anything else other than love? does anything matter more than love? not for you. because the love you felt for your husband was so immense, you could take anything. you could endure it all, the silence, the cold, the emptiness of it all. it didn’t matter, as long as you could look at your husband’s face and smile, because, at least, he was there with you.
it’s past midnight, and the clock continues tickling as you wait. you don’t call his phone nor text him, patiently waiting, although your heart drums against your ribcage and you believe if you were to stand up, your legs would give out beneath you.
kokonoi was a stubborn man. he was a rusty, stubborn and extremely closed off man. you knew that, and you used to love that.
the silence the two of you shared, that you learnt wasn’t your own act of affection but more of a routine kokonoi was trying to enforce in you.
he loved silence and peace, and sometimes, you weren’t any help. despite your faint touch and the eager wish to make him happy, to do anything he wanted; it wasn’t enough for him.
one night you tried to sit by his side as he worked. you were completely unaware of his business, and you never asked questions. you sat quietly on the couch inside his office next to your shared bathroom. and despite the silence, kokonoi forced you out of his office. since then, you weren’t allowed to approach his working space or disturb him during this time. and so you’d find yourself waiting for him, sitting on the sofa, hoping he’d call you back in bed with him.
there wasn’t anything you could do to ease into him. you were a doll for him, quiet, small, barely a ghost of who you thought you once were, but that wasn’t enough for him either.
he didn’t love you anymore; perhaps, he never loved you.
kokonoi didn’t use that type of words. love was a waste of his time too.
kokonoi didn’t feel love, but he used other words.
‘i adore you’, those were the words he would use.
he never told you he loved you, not even the night of your wedding, when he kissed you with such hunger you thought he was nothing without you. oh, how silly of you.
i adore you, he would chant in the late night when he would hold your body close, his breathing against your neck and all you could do was imagine, hope what held his eyes were the adoration he so pledged. when he would press his mouth against your collarbone and bite, scream, groan, and all you could do was utilize the vulnerity that came when he was between your sheets, of a bed he barely took notice of.
i adore you, he would say, kissing your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, but never your lips.
those were only expected when he was drunk, between three and four in the morning. when he was just an image of your husband, and the man you loved.
and you would kiss him so dearly, holding onto his body, sitting over his thighs and holding his neck so he wouldn’t escape your mouth. when he was barely awake and his parted mouth allowed you to press yours against his, holding him so close you believed he would snap out of it at any time. but you hoped he didn’t, because those few minutes were enough to feel the fire that everyday threatens to extinguish inside your heart, and your cheeks heat up and your body reacts at his ministrations again, and so you fall for him, again and again.
it’s so little what you ask for him: a little attention, a little touch is enough.
because when kokonoi isn’t home, there is nothing else you can do.
when he’s gone, you’re nothing.
and so you wait, every night, for his arrival. the arrival of your husband and his adoration.
you could never tell him, no, you could never say out loud, recall the truth. the fact you are also, little by little, missing the warmth of the words i love you that you whisper in his sleep. because when they come out of your mouth, they feel distant, as if they were part of a script. a routine you mindlessly follow, empty and meaningless. but how could you? when he arrives with arms full of bags and all kinds of gifts after a month without a single sign about his whereabouts. when he barely calls you in between trips, and when he disappears for days and you can’t reach him. he appears again, as you wait like every other day for him, and he’s tired but watches you open every single bag and swoon over the jewelry and new clothes, and kiss his neck and let him drag you back into the room despite how weary he is and how upset you are. it doesn’t matter, because for your husband you could do anything. you could scream his name and embrace his body, take his form of affection and eat every lie that comes from his mouth: for your husband you are willing to do anything.
kokonoi has never told you what he does for a living, how he makes the money and why he’s away all the time.
you never dared to ask him again after the incident. the night he yelled at you with such force you could picture yourself out of your house and his life. when his voice bounced from every wall and everything seemed to shake within your fortress, the place you called your home.
you never asked again, and despite the kissing of your body and tracing of his fingers, something changed that night.
you were such a fool, constantly lying to yourself, making up excuses for him and his lack of love towards you. but that night, you also realized this was a world you were meant to stay in. and your reality became a dream, because all you could do was dream, dream and hope that every night your husband would come back home and adore you.
you thought about it once; leaving.
it’s become a routine, and although some nights your body trembles because of the cold inside your own house, and the hours vanish as you wait for him, and god, how lonely you feel, you imagine yourself out of it.
but was there anything you could do?
wasted youth, and useless love in a marriage and a world your husband has created for you, how could you leave it all behind?
and how could you bring that up to him? after everything he’s done?
you know kokonoi has his own nightmares, and dreams too. you can only imagine what these are about when you watch him sleep, after a night you’re unable to blink an eye and you watch him until the sun rises and he wakes up and leaves again. you can only imagine and hope he thinks of you, that you are part of his dreams, like he is of yours too.
how lonely is marriage, you think. and you wonder, does he think the same?
has he grown tired of you like you had of him? and is he trying to bury these feelings within his mind, like you do?
kokonoi barely sees you, and if he’s not touching you, you’re not there for him
you wonder if he’s grown tired of you. when he takes you out in your usual one in a month date nights, and he touches you, and how cold are his fingers. they’re so cold, you think, because his fingers don’t get to enjoy the warmth from his chest, as they are nothing but mere instruments, just like you.
and you find yourself imagining a life without him. without his faint touch and the remnant of his presence. in a world where you’re alone, but at least you’re not lonely.
how are you supposed to escape a life you’ve created?
“angel.”
you hitch, realizing you’ve forgotten his presence. or yours too.
you’re not sure what time is, or day. you can barely remember what you did that morning, or a few hours before the present. sitting by your husband’s side, you’ve found yourself surrounded by strangers and women you can’t recall. you wonder how distracted you are when you look down and notice his fingers gripping the inside of your thigh. you look up.
“yes?” you whisper, spinning. kokonoi is staring at you, but you’re not sure what he’s thinking. you’ve stopped trying to guess what goes inside his head long ago.
yeah, you remember now.
a month has passed since the last night you spent together. the night your husband refused to kiss you. you were a little tipsy, maybe. for the first time in a while you had decided to abandon your usual spot by the entrance, and instead, you spent the evening in the room where the tv was seated, watching movies and drinking wine. it wasn’t much, but enough to get you a little handsy. kokonoi had come home late, as always, but was unpleasantly met by your absence, as he ran inside the house, looking for you.
once he found you, kokonoi was furious, and the force used in his voice was nothing compared to the way he grabbed your body. you realized then that he would tend to forget you were, in fact, a real person.
and he shook your body, screaming at you for scaring him like that. and the world was spinning in front of your eyes, as you tried to capture kokonoi in a kiss, and embrace the man you held dearly still. kokonoi refused your touch in a manner that you can’t help but shiver when remembering.
he left the morning after, and left nothing but a note. despite the absence of an apology, for the first time kokonoi had decided to let you know he was going on a business trip, and in his handwriting, he left in the note a blatant lie you giggled about for the rest of the day. ‘i’ll miss you’ he wrote, and you continued to read it again and again as you drank another, and another glass of wine.
you stopped drinking three days before his arrival (you believed), but still, it’s like the liquid was in your system every time you had to look him in his eyes.
you’d preferred infidelity. an affair maybe, a genuine reason for his disappearance and lack of attention. instead, you had to bear the fact your husband no longer loved you.
that day he also came back with a bunch of shopping bags. and surprisingly, a big smile on his face. he kissed you on the neck first thing upon his arrival, and dropping everything he was holding, he embraced you with force, with warmth, dragging you back into the room.
and in broad daylight, your husband made love to you. his chanting fell unheeding by your ears, and you were barely able to feel your body with every bite. if you were sober that day, maybe you would’ve remembered the kissing and his tongue inside your mouth.
“are you tired?” kokonoi asks, trying to get your attention again.
kokonoi had asked you to attend a dinner get-together with his colleagues. and despite the weariness in your form, and faint, almost nonexistent touching, he forced you to go.
that night, he observed you like he’d never had. your manners, the shivering of your figure and the silence. you were no longer a doll, no longer a ghost, barely a shadow. nobody talked to you either, despite the efforts some did, they would quickly realize you were not in the mood, and while everyone outside the two of you believed kokonoi and his wife had fought, kokonoi tried to think if you had shown any sign of resentment against him: but there was nothing.
he sat the rest of the night by your side, teasing your skin with the tip of his fingers, and sometimes, nibbling on your neck, hoping you would jump, hoping you would react and ask him to stop, or that you would giggle and ask him to wait till home. but you didn’t, and instead, you quietly sat there as everyone observed you.
the two of you got in his car again, and after driving two streets away from the restaurant, kokonoi jumped over you. attacking your lips with greed, he kissed your mouth, his hands grabbing your hips, your thighs, your chest, anything that could get a reaction from you. but you didn’t say a word, nor a sound came out of your mouth despite his panting. and when he punched the steering wheel and the honk of the car made him jump, you remained in your seat.
“angel, is anything wrong?”
kokonoi breathes, after five minutes he’s tried to restrain his anger, he looks at you again. he holds your hand, and finally, you turn your eyes towards him. you look at him again.
“no,” you mutter, and in other circumstances, you would’ve smiled.
for the first time since the night of your marriage, you let go. it’s slow at first, and if you don’t taste the salty taste in your mouth, you would’ve never guessed you were crying. then, your body starts to shake with every whimper, and you find yourself sobbing in front of your husband.
that night, kokonoi embraced you. in his arms, he kissed your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, and your lips, as he whispered again and again.
you weren’t necessarily interested in him. you had never spoken to him nor looked his way, and you made sure it stayed that way.
yeah, you could say shinichiro did give you the creeps, a little.
the guy was a dork, and everyone knew that. but he wasn’t the scary one, but his friends. that’s why despite how many people around the school would pick on him, they would never do it to his face. and just like that the whole school would watch shinichiro walk away with his friends, scary looking guys that nobody dared to walk in front or around of.
you thought he was a dork, and so were his friends. but still, you avoided him, and his gang.
shinichiro was a little scary, maybe.
he was older than you, by a year or two. he was never alone, and despite the strong and scary influence he had, people liked him around the school. it’s not like shinichiro liked to fight or make problems, instead, he seemed to be really calm and a little doofus. he was that kind of guy, you were quick to learn.
you never had interest in him, and you knew the other girls didn’t either. still, you could see your classmates linger between classes to catch a glimpse of shinichiro walking around the hallways. you’d sometimes see him too, but you’d always try to walk the other way. maybe you were a little paranoid, it was obvious shinichiro didn’t know you or had any interest in you; but it didn’t matter to you, and although you’d never seen him or his friends fight, you weren’t expecting to see it soon either. so, you kept your distance with the guy.
time passed as you and the rest watched shinichiro grow from an awkward, sometimes foolish jackass, to the hero of many people. you would hear stories, more and more, about shinichiro and his gang that only continued to grow. people didn’t fear him anymore, instead, there was nothing but respect for him. shinichiro was a greatly respected figure.
however, he was still a dork.
school was coming to an end, and shinichiro was leaving high school.
you were sitting by the window as you watched shinichiro walking outside, classmates and guys from other grades saying goodbye to him. he was surprisingly surrounded by people, and his face, shining as bright as ever. shinichiro smiled, as you watched from your classroom.
classes were ending and you were about to head off when you noticed a group of your classmates a few steps away from shinichiro, who was excitedly talking with someone. naively, you decided to go check on one of your friends in this group. you found out five girls from your class had a huge crush on shinichiro, but had never confessed their feelings for him; until now.
however, they were too shy to give him a letter they had prepared for him, lamenting on the possibility of passing up the opportunity to let him know how they felt.
that’s why you decided to help them.
you didn’t think that highly of shinichiro, and as you continued to watch him day by day, you had decided he was just like any other guy. so, without hesitating, you approached shinichiro and his friend, asking him for a minute of his time.
you held the letter in your hands for him to see, and as you were about to speak, shinichiro took it from your hand.
“i don’t know if i’m surprised or not,” shinichiro says, smiling, flirty.
you frown. “what?”
“i’m sorry, though, i can’t reciprocate your feelings, you know, i’m ending a phase of my life and—”
“this isn’t from me,” you say, pointing with your finger the sign of the girls that were hidden away, watching the scene.
shinichiro frowns, and you can tell he’s embarrassed as the blood flies to his ears. but you don’t let him speak, and after sending him one last glare, you walk away.
that was the last time you saw shinichiro, and the image in your head did not change one bit: shinichiro was a giant dork.
despite the approaching summer, tokyo was quite cold. the breeze was a little too strong and although a bright, great sun illuminated the city, you couldn’t seem to be able to get warm.
you were shopping with your university friends. honestly, you weren’t sure why you had accepted the invitation, it didn’t take you long to realize you in fact did not enjoy these people's company, but it was still early, and you didn’t have an excuse to quit them. so, you continued to trail behind them.
you stop looking inside the shops after two streets. you’re tired, and counting every minute until you could say ‘i’m sorry! totally forgot i had something more important to do, bye!’
it wasn’t necessary, because, as you were about to turn to the left towards a restaurant for lunch, someone called your name from behind you.
your friends turned before you, surprised, as this person continued to call your name.
you turn around too, searching for whoever is so eager to meet you.
but as much as you search, you can’t seem to find anyone familiar, that is, until that someone stands in front of you.
“shinichiro?”
you frown, taking a step back to watch him properly. a tall man stands before you, a fringe reaching barely his eyes, and a quite relaxed, unbothered face, a little scary, you admit.
shinichiro is a completely different person.
but then, he smiles, and surprisingly, wraps his arms around you.
“i haven’t seen you in so long!” he exclaims, looking at your face again. he then notices the group behind you. “am i interrupting you?”
you stop and think about it.
you surely are curious about shinichiro and the realization that he not only knows your name, but that he also remembers it, and the fact he seems to consider you someone close enough to hug you in the middle of the street.
you shake your head, “nothing important.”
shinichiro guides you back to what you’re quick to guess is his shop. although not new, you’re surprised to find out he owns a biker shop. and as you walk inside the garage, shinichiro is enthusiastically signaling the name of each and every bike inside the place. you only nod, quietly, as you follow him, dumbfounded.
“it’s been a while,” he finally sees, leaning onto the counter where a small note sits, along with a single pen and a few paper-made balls. you nod, again, still taken aback, and confused enough to avoid his eyes. shinichiro, however, notices it, smiling. “weren’t expecting me to remember you?”
“didn’t necessarily think we were acquaintances,” you admit.
“how could i forget you,” he mutters, and you turn, expecting him to elaborate. “i mean, i kind of rejected you and then i looked like a total dumbass, and an asshole too.”
“it’s fine,” you laugh. “i can see how you could’ve gotten mixed up.”
“the thing is,” he quickly adds. “i didn’t want to reject you.”
you laugh again. shinichiro scratches the back of his neck, and the chain on his neck flashes under the lightbulbs on the ceiling.
“it’s fine,” you say again, waving your hands.
“i did like you at that time.”
someone enters the store, and shinichiro walks over to them. you spin, noticing the kid wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, as shinichiro pats his head and whispers something to him. you tilt your head, and shinichiro walks back to you as the kid goes to the back.
“they love this place,” he simply says, and you wait for him to take the previous conversation again.
he doesn’t, and instead, silence falls upon the two of you. you tap the floor lightly, and hug your body, as the open door attracts the cold.
“listen, i—”
“let’s go on a date.”
you look at him.
shinichiro sure has changed, you think. he smiles, his eyes closing as he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck again.
shinichiro is tall now, and his hair falls over his forehead. he isn’t as awkward as you remembered, and he surely isn’t as dorky as you remembered.
you take some time to answer, and that makes shinichiro feel nervous.
then, you see it.
although shinichiro has changed, he’s still shinichiro.
summary: is there a difference between the love a friendship holds, and the love someone in love feels?
cw: none.
wordcout: 6.8k.
kazutora taps his shoes against the pavement in front of the shop.
it’s cloudy, surprisingly, since it was the middle of summer, and just yesterday the sun had crawled into kazutora’s skin, stinging enough for him to cause a ruckus— which he didn’t, of course, there were a few customers and kids inside the shop for him to curse the nature like that. he had done it once though, and his boss had made sure he not only apologized, but deeply regretted it too.
he wasn’t really a fan of summer, that was true. sunny days weren’t that fun, but cloudy, cold days weren’t any better.
still, the clouds were the least of his worries, only that kazutora didn’t want to admit it out loud.
it was his birthday, and in any other circumstances, that would’ve been fun. although turning twenty seven surely wasn’t something kazutora wanted to be reminded of all day, there was something else that he so tried to push to the back of his head.
chifuyu is moping around the shop - a little accident with the cats, though nothing too tedious. kazutora was gonna take care of it, but chifuyu insisted that it was his special day, so he didn’t have to worry about it. kazutora caught on the act: the constant fidgeting with his watch, the fact chifuyu seemed to be waiting for a call or a text, checking his phone every ten minutes, and the way he could not sit down for a minute. driving kazutora a little bit crazy, he decided to ignore whatever the guy was planning, because he knew he was surely hiding something.
kazutora retreats to the shop. chifuyu is nowhere to be found, and he can hear the loud meowing of a kitten on the back. sighing, kazutora walks over the cat's aisle, just to make sure they’re okay.
as he does, he hears steps behind his back, but he’s not quick to check, and instead, his eyes are covered with two petite hands (or rather fingers that push his eyes a little too hard), cold hands that make him jolt.
“guess who.”
kazutora frowns, recognizing your voice right away. with much more force than what you could gather, kazutora pushes your hands off his face, turning to meet you, confused, and surely surprised.
you’re startled by his reaction, your hands sliding off his broad shoulders, a small, naughty small pulling at the corners of your lips.
“you’re cold,” is the first thing he says, getting a hold of your bare arms.
that’s not what he wants to say upon seeing you, but he’s more worried about the fact you are wearing a summer dress on such a wintry day. it’s not like the sun had hidden in the middle of the day; you had deliberately decided to put on a thin dress despite the very obvious color of the sky that morning.
but this wasn’t anything new for him; the first time he met you, something similar happened.
kind of.
the first time kazutora met you he swore you could’ve come out of the cheesiest, goofiest romantic comedy ever made (kazutora knew many of those).
you weren’t exactly wearing what would one call wedding-friendly attire; more like something you would’ve worn for the club or a really crazy party.
kazutora thought his eyes popped out of its sockets the moment he saw you climb up the stage. surely you had been the talk of the night, not only for your extravagant choice in your attire (a dress too tight and too short for a wedding reception) but also for your silly, a little too revealing speech for whom kazutora found out was your best friend. her spouse didn’t seem too entertained, maybe scared of what you were saying, but kazutora could tell your friend was just like you, and he couldn’t help but laugh.
kazutora wasn’t really the casanova people believed he was. he was too quiet for anyone to approach him, and too naive for anyone to try anything other than casual hookups. he was probably too easy, that’s what he would sometimes call himself after another failed date he would tell chifuyu all about. he was unlucky, and too eager for appreciation, sometimes getting on tight situations he should’ve never found himself in the first place. his last date, he had to gather his clothes and run out of a date’s building to avoid her boyfriend coming in and finding out his girlfriend had been cheating on him, and somehow, on kazutora too.
still, kazutora couldn’t help it; he was a hopeless romantic, sadly.
he didn’t show it much, of course, he wished to keep these fantasies a secret from his friends; it’d be too embarrassing for anyone to find out how much kazutora longed for a loving relationship. it was kind of silly, maybe, after all, he was twenty seven, way past the kind of love he dreamt of, and unless he wanted to get stepped on by twenty year old girls that only wanted to take a ride on his bike and trace his tattoo, kazutora decided it would be better to give up the search for a perfect love.
until he met you.
he was tipsy, a little, but enough for his confidence to go up. he was wearing nice clothes and nice cologne, he would’ve been a massive idiot for missing out on the opportunity, he kept telling himself as he watched you on the other side of the salon.
you were drinking champagne by your own, looking down at your phone with your lips pursed. unfortunately, kazutora noticed the scowl on your face too late, as you looked up, waiting for him to speak.
you didn’t seem too happy, and he almost spun over his heel, ready to babler out whatever excuse he could come up with so he could leave, when you asked him if he could drive you home. kazutora, too dazed, nodded his head, and so you followed him out of the place.
your change in mood was drastic, and you and kazutora strolled through the entrance towards the parking lot, kazutora was trying to change the speech he had planned to give you before things went the other way.
you chuckle, suddenly to kazutora’s dismay, watching the motorcycle kazutora jumped over.
“i can call a friend for his car if—”
“no,” you smiled, despite the tears kazutora could clearly see, dried on the apple of your cheeks. you chuckled again, walking next to the vehicle. “i think i need help, though.”
kazutora, with trembling hands and determined focus, placed his hands on each side of your waist, and you mechanically pressed yours over his shoulders, perhaps scared of falling off. but he was gentle, and patient, as with his force, managed to seat you over his motorcycle in one movement.
he jumped back, and a little too shy, grabbed your hands that kept lingering over his figure, wrapping them around his torso. “i won’t go fast, i promise.”
you laughed, shaking your head as kazutora sent a look back, to make sure you were alright. you pushed closer to his figure, as much as you could, your cheek pressed against his back and hands interlocked together over his stomach.
kazutora drove painfully slowly, but he would be lying if he were to say it was because he didn’t want you to get scared; heck, if anything, kazutora would’ve attempted to get your address mixed up a few times in hopes of keeping you close like this. but he didn’t, well aware of the damping of his shirt after he’d given you his jacket.
he parked outside of your apartment, and although the vehicle had halted long ago, you still hadn’t let go of him. kazutora heard it, subtle, barely a whisper, your sobbing. and so he stayed for a few minutes, letting you cry over his blades, with your body impossibly close to his, too flustered to know exactly what to do, or what to say.
kazutora met you just a few months after he’d been dispatched, maybe around ten or eleven months. his hair was still dark, barely reaching his shoulders, and sometimes, a little too clouded with his own emotions to acknowledge those around him. until that night, when kazutora, for the first time comforted you, in silence, and yeah, without saying a single reassuring word, he comforted you (you told him that when you met him again). that’s how everything started, when you finally straightened up, laughing as if nothing was happening, and brushing the tears off your face. you jumped off his motorcycle—although with his help, once again, and waving your hand goodbye to the unknown man that had offered you a shoulder to cry on.
that night kazutora also found out your hands tended to get cold, something he learnt was normal after the many times he met you after that, when you’d swiftly touch his skin with your fingers in a habit you had accustomed kazutora to.
he fell in love with you that night; love at first sight like he’d ever dreamt.
he fell in love again the day he met you again, like the fate kazutora had longed for.
when you entered the same store he was in, with your melodical laugh and light that nobody can ignore even if they were to try. he saw you walking through every hallway of the place, afraid, embarrassed to approach you. because you couldn’t possibly remember him, right? you were drunk, and that night your vision blurred because of the tears you shed. he looked a little different too, he’d changed his look a little, and that day, the tattoo you maybe had noticed was covered by a collared shirt and long strands of hair. but you didn’t recognize him for his tattoo, or his look, or the fact he was wearing the exact same jacket he gave you that night. and when kazutora spun around and you stood there, with the same smile you gifted him this day, on his birthday, kazutora realized just how deep in love he was.
“i can’t believe he didn’t give you the day off,” you scoffed, talking loud enough for his boss, chifuyu, to hear.
kazutora grinned, shaking his head. “he didn’t, i asked him to let me work for the day.”
you tilted your head, blinking slowly as to show your disapproval. he didn’t get to say why, when you quickly grabbed his hand and pulled, kazutora too weak to your touch, following after you.
“we’re leaving!”
chifuyu appears between the shelves, with that teasing smile of his—a smile only kazutora took note of.
it was really hard, and everytime you placed your head on his chest or grabbed his face with both your hands in such loving manners, kazutora’s heart jumped. he tried so hard to push the feelings aside, reminding himself the position he was in, and the place he held in your life. he couldn’t waste it, and if having to watch you go out every few weeks in another date that would end up with you crashing back at his place and complaining about it, he could take it all.
but time was running out, and after three years of a beautiful friendship, kazutora realized he was digging himself a hole too deep for him to get out of his one; so far deep that one day he would have to scream out for help, and you would have to hear him.
maybe that’s why he’s so jittery to see you, in that summer dress and with your hair falling over your back, smiling at him with such love kazutora was stupefied for a second. as if the two of you were more than mere friends.
“w—weren’t you supposed to be on a date?”
“and completely forget my best friend’s birthday? who do you think i am?” you laugh, grabbing his wrist between your fingers. you approach his motorcycle, grabbing the helmet he’d bought for you.
best friend, of course. kazutora couldn’t forget that; he wasn’t a simple friend to you anymore. you held him in a position much higher than anybody in your life. he was your best friend, the one that’d pat your back in the night and let you cry your heart out, or the one that’d fight against the slumber to hear you talk his ears out. kazutora was special for you, and you always reminded him how much. but you were special to him too; only that not in the same manner.
was the love he felt for you stronger? greater, larger? a love one feels for their loved ones is far greater than a simple liking towards someone, but is there a difference between the love a friendship holds, or the love someone in love feels? kazutora wasn’t sure.
“you look a little distracted,” you mutter as you wait for kazutora to jump into his vehicle.
kazutora looks up, an apologetic smile forming on his lips. “sorry, i was just thinking.”
“about what?”
kazutora falls quiet. he knows he can’t lie to you, but he also knows you won’t give up a question easily.
luckily for him, his emotions weren’t the only thing weighing on his mind.
“your date,” kazutora says.
you chuckle, looking down. kazutora looks down, and notices the design on your painted nails, small hearts on the tips of your fingernails. those are new, he thinks, and then wonders if you got them done for your special date.
you’d been talking about it for a while; he was perfect!
some guy still studying, but with a car and his own place. you kept going on about how smart he was (kazutora isn’t sure if he was a computer engineer or a software engineer, and he felt bad about it, knowing he probably ignored it), and how attentive he was. he was perfect for you! he was nice, and would call you before sleep, and he would drive you around and would always tell you how pretty you looked that day. despite a few dates, the guy had you wrapped around his finger, and everyday, kazutora thought you were more and more in love with the guy.
so, why were you there, with him?
“told him i had a very important occurrence today,” you simply said. “he understands.”
“are you sure?” kazutora scratches the back of his neck. “does he know that—”
“kazutora, get on the bike, will you? i made reservations and if we lose them i’ll get furious,” you sing, but kazutora knows the threat has a connotation, so he does as told.
kazutora spends the afternoon of his birthday with you. although you try to keep it a secret, kazutora can’t help questioning every once in a while, and with all the patience in the world, you tell him everything you want to do. and so you insist on getting him a new shirt—like those he likes so much although you find it a little ridiculous, and then, the both of you enter a rather fine looking restaurant, where you insist you will pay for.
“i have one last gift for you,” you mutter, after both of you are done with your food.
dessert is coming, and the atmosphere of the place is making kazutora’s spin. he feels strange, sitting across you, with your beautiful hair and makeup and nails node, with a twinkling in your eyes and a smile so big he wonders if your cheeks hurt. and he sits there, watching you, imagining that’s what that other guy must feel like, taking you out any opportunity he gets, and spoiling you and getting to remind you how beautiful you are.
kazutora watches as you slide a box across the table, and you bite your lip, suddenly feeling shy. kazutora cocks an eyebrow, chuckling.
“you shouldn’t--”
“hurry! i wanna know what you think,” you wave your hand, gesturing for him to hurry.
kazutora breathes, taking a hold of the box. a black box with a white small ribbon on top of it. carefully, he pulls one side of it, and then, he lifts the top of the box.
kazutora huffs out, gasping. the box reveals a beautiful black watch, with a few details in silver. a hand covers his mouth, a little too surprised by the object. it’s beautiful, and big, and probably too expensive, and kazutora doesn’t know what to say.
“you really shouldn’t have--”
“when i saw it i knew it had to be yours,” you say, watching him carefully.
you can’t help the huge grin on your face as you watch kazutora try on the watch. you help him get it on, and kazutora continues to watch it with admiration.
“thank you,” kazutora finally manages to say, still shocked.
“you’re welcome,” you laugh, pressing your cheek against the palm of your hand.
the two of you leave the restaurant, and after you pay, and then slide your card back into your bag, kazutora feels an urge to grab your hand and walk you to his motorcycle. but he can’t, as he watches you walk on your own, chattering about something he can’t bring himself to focus on, not anymore.
it’s already dark outside, and it’s cold, but you are heated up, almost excited, as you tell him to hurry up and drive you back to his place. kazutora doesn’t really question it, following your orders as you wrap your arms around his waist and place your cheeks against his back, like you always do.
in a red light before his place, kazutora notices the blue light reflecting against your face, and the noise of your nails tapping against the screen.
the lights of his apartment seem off, and kazutora wonders for a second where his roommate is; but you don’t leave too much space for him to question the situation, and grabbing his wrist once again, you run upstairs to his place.
“where’s chifuyu?” kazutora asks you, trailing after you upstairs.
“i don’t know, he said something about going out for tonight.”
kazutora heats up.
chifuyu didn’t tell him anything about that, why did he told you? not only that, was that supposed to mean, the two of you were gonna be alone at his place?
kazutora shook his head. it’s not like he needed chifuyu there, the two of you had spent a few nights alone at your place, at least. but his would be the first time, and he felt a little unsure if he’d be able to keep his mouth shut for the night. for some reason, the night felt different, and it’s almost like kazutora heart wanted to jump out of his system and scream at the top of his lungs how in love he was with you. but he couldn’t, and he shouldn’t.
but for some reason, every year, for his birthday, kazutora realized just how deep down he was.
“go on,” you whisper, for some reason. kazutora frowns, but then he realizes you’re waiting for him to open the door.
kazutora approaches the door, and inserts the key inside the lock. careful and slowly, he pushes the door open. the apartment is completely dark, and there’s absolutely no noise coming from outside. kazutora enters his apartment in short and calculated straddles, suddenly feeling off.
he doesn’t get too much peace, as suddenly, the lights turn on and a few of his friends jump from their hiding spots--along chifuyu, and scream loudly his name and happy birthday.
kazutora stares with a hand to his chest, and then he shakes his head smiling as everyone approaches him to congratulate him.
“that was perfect,” chifuyu whispers to you, still by the entrance.
you chuckle, closing the door with your feet. “i told you, i’m the best.”
chifuyu watches you as you cross the room towards the stereo. he shakes his head, grinning.
the party starts in no time, and kazutora is rushed to some shots and a few vodka glasses he surely despises. it’s not that full, but the music surely makes the space feel smaller as people start dancing around chifuyu and his’ shared flat. he searches for you every once in a while, but it’s like you’ve disappeared out of nowhere. he doesn’t get to ask for you though, as more shots come around.
kazutora is not that drunk though, surprisingly, he has a pretty good tolerance to alcohol. that and the fact he’s tried to throw away every cup that’s been sent his way. he’d stopped getting drunk out of his mind after the second time he did it, when he completely blacked out and threw up for at least an entire day. kazutora realized then that drinking wasn’t as fun as he’d imagined.
he’s seated by the couch, a little dizzy. he believes he’s reached his limit, and feels a little eager for a cigarette.
that’s how he notices you across the room.
you were drunk, out of your mind, kazutora notices as he watches you dance around, stumbling left and right and babbling about everything and anything.
it’s like you had lost him too, because when you notice him sitting on the couch, you run over him.
you slid by his side, a little too close to him. but it doesn’t seem to be enough for you, as you place your legs over his knee.
“you look really handsome tonight,” you whisper, but only for him to hear. your lips brush against his ears, and kazutora shivers.
“having fun?” he asks.
“all in your name,” you say, and laugh. “did you notice the cocktails? i called this guy especially for you, he makes amazing cocktails, did you try some? i did, they were good!”
kazutora could tell you had tried, a lot, actually.
you weren’t really good with alcohol, but cocktails were surely your guilty pleasure, and since the alcohol was barely there, you could drink and drink without noticing you were getting drunk. he was always careful with that, but that night, you had disappeared from his sight, and he didn’t think it was polite to ignore his friends to babysit you around.
kazutora clears his throat, trying to shift on the couch, but you are faster, and little by little, you position yourself over his lap. kazutora bites his tongue, raising his hands to avoid touching you. you placed your legs on each side of his waist, and your hands fell over his chest, playing with the necklace you had given him that day for his last birthday, a simple gold chain that slipped through your fingers as you drunkenly laughed. you tilted your head, and suddenly, your focus was not on his necklace anymore.
“you look really, really handsome tonight,” you repeat, serious out of a sudden.
kazutora watches you, unsure of what you’re thinking or what you’re planning to do.
“are you tired?” he asks, brushing your sides with his hands, still debating whether to get you off him or wait for you to do it yourself.
you don’t move, and your hands snake past his neck, resting on the back of the couch behind him. you grab onto the couch, shifting over his body, your hair falling over one side of your shoulders. kazutora looks down, pulling on the hem of your dress that has risen over your thighs.
“i want to kiss you,” you mumble; clear enough for kazutora to understand.
kazutora barely gets to register the honesty in your words, and you don’t wait for an answer, placing your weight over your knees, you grab kazutora’s neck and press your lips over his, in such a hungry kiss kazutora wasn’t sure if his greed was overtaking him.
it wasn’t; it was all you. you were kissing him, like your life depended on it. as if you’d wanted to do so for so long you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. and kazutora could taste the lemon on your tongue, and the whiskey in the corners of your lips. you moan against his mouth as your body falls back over his lip, your hands sliding off his neck towards his waist. kazutora jumps and tries to push your mouth away, but your hands grab his neck again, keeping him in place. kazutora opens an eye, to make sure no one can see the two of you.
you pull away, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. you laugh, shaking your head.
“you’re surprisingly a good kisser,” you whisper, and you attempt to press your lips against him again. kazutora is faster this time, moving his face slightly.
you pout pressing your mouth against his cheek. his hands no longer phantom over your figure, instead, they press steadily over your hips, and kazutora wraps your legs around his waist, jumping off the couch with you in his arms.
his heart is thumping against his ribcage, so loud and so hard he’s in pain. he’s managed to get you in his bed and secure you under the sheets, but he’s still shaken.
the moment your head hits the pillow, you’re out, luckily, but kazutora can’t seem to forget, as he sits on the edge of the bed, still shaking.
he kissed you--or you did. but he did; after all that time dreaming, only fantasizing over how it’d feel, he finally got to experience it; he kissed you.
kazutora slides off the bed, leaning against the mattress of his bed. his mind is fuzzy and his heart doesn’t seem to stop its rapid beating anytime soon; he’s still shaken up.
he can’t stop thinking about it, the way you held him so tightly, as if you didn’t want him to let you go, ever. and your taste, how could he even try to forget something as addictive as your taste?
kazutora’s mind went through every possibility. was he supposed to tell you? was he supposed to act like nothing happened? was he supposed to wait for you to bring it up? was he supposed to bury this in the back of his mind, and never mention it?
but, how could he? when that kiss was everything kazutora had ever dreamt about. you had gave him a kiss kazutora could never forget even if he tried; despite the alcohol and the rather sloppy movement of your lips, or the gripping of his neck and the fact anyone could’ve watched the two of you--that didn’t matter to kazutora.
it was like in movies he’d heard. the world surely had stopped the moment you connected the two of you with your lips impatiently. the moment you held him in your arms, and acted as if he’d was the only person there. just like the movies, kazutora thought.
he sighs, turning his head to watch you sleep--wondering if you’ll confess your feelings for him tomorrow, like in the movies. because drunk words were sober truths, right? which meant, you surely kissed him because you’d wanted for a while, right?
only that, kazutora forgets his life is not a movie.
because when he wakes up the following morning, you’re nowhere to be found.
kazutora runs out his bedroom, searching every room in his apartment.
“something happened?”
chifuyu is standing by the kitchen counter, a mug on his hand and his hair a little too messy.
surprisingly, the place doesn’t look as trashed as he’d imagined. but his friend surely does.
“did you see her go?”
chifuyu frowns, at first not understanding the question. “who?”
kazutora runs back to his room, grabbing his phone.
he tries, again and again, and everytime, the line goes off. was your phone out of battery? impossible. he clearly remembers charging your phone the night before. were you in classes? impossible, he surely doesn’t remember you having early morning classes. plus, you never turned your phone off.
kazutora decides to brush it off, unsure if he should tell his friend about the previous incident of last night. and so he goes off to work.
he tries again. he leaves text after text, and call after call. there’s no way you’re ignoring him, right?
were you busy, perhaps? kazutora wanted to believe so. there was no way you were trying to ignore him, he hadn’t done anything to you, right?
unless you could clearly recall the kiss.
kazutora watches as you walk out of your university. he wasn’t able to take the silence, deciding to pick you up at school, and hopefully, find out what was happening. he didn’t try to entertain the thoughts, knowing he was probably overthinking. nothing happened after all, just a kiss, plus, you kissed him. you’d wanted to, right?
kazutora waves his hand, hoping you’d notice him. and you do, but instead of approaching him, you run towards a black car parked not far ago.
your date’s car.
kazutora decides not to think much about it. maybe you didn’t actually notice him, you had pretty bad vision. you were probably looking for him, it was fine.
only that it wasn’t.
did you not remember the kiss? you probably didn’t, and kazutora shouldn’t bring it up, right?
did that mean you were serious with this guy? why didn’t you tell him then?
like that days, and weeks pass by. you barely answer his texts, and not a single call is responded by you. kazutora doesn’t know what to say, and he’s not sure if he can ask chifuyu about it. he decides not to, unsure if you do remember the kiss, or if it was something he’d have to keep a secret for the rest of his life.
still, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep up without you and your unusual silence.
kazutora is standing outside the shop, a cigarette dangling between his fingers.
he’d quit smoking a few months before, promising you he’d stop. he didn’t like it much either anymore; you didn’t like the smell of cigarettes and he didn’t like to bother you with them.
that day was different; kazutora didn’t know how long he could go without at least one. only that after the first, a few minutes later he had to come out for the second, and then, he found himself on the last hours of his shift with the sixth cigarette on his lips.
it was turning dark, and there were no stars shining on the sky. it was cold, and kazutora was almost sure it’d start raining anytime. he only wished he’d get home before that, or else he’d get there all wet, and he surely didn’t want that.
kazutora was holding his phone in his free hand. he hadn’t texted you in two days, nor called you. deciding to give you a little time, kazutora decided to let you come back yourself. he would only text once a day to ask if you were okay. but after the constant ‘read’ marks under each of his texts, kazutora grew a little frustrated. he didn’t know what was going on, and he wanted to believe you were busy, probably with exams, probably with the guy you were hanging out with.
but that afternoon kazutora was eager to hear your voice, to hear an explanation, a reason why, something. he was growing tired of waiting, and your indifference, as if he’d done something wrong.
he had no doubt; you remembered the kiss. yeah, you kissed him but that was it, why were you making such a big fuss about it?
why were you ignoring him, when he hadn’t done anything wrong?
with those sentiments, kazutora pressed the phone against his ear, tapping his foot against the pavement rapidly.
“hello?”
kazutora froze. you had answered, finally.
“hey,” kazutora speaks, frowning. “you answered.”
there’s a silence, a painfully long silence.
“i’m sorry,” you say, and kazutora sighs, as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. “who’s this?”
as he’d predicted, rain starts to pour, loudly. he can hear it, despite the furious beating of his heart against his ear. he can hear the raindrops, heavily falling over the concrete under his feet. and your breathing too, on the other line.
“it’s me.”
he doesn’t have to tell you; you pick up on it quickly.
you had deleted his number in a spur. after those two days he hadn’t texted you, you had deleted his phone, deciding to move on.
but kazutora hadn’t moven on yet, and it was his turn now.
“kazutora--”
“are we gonna talk about it?”
kazutora closes his eyes; he didn’t mean to sound like that. as if he were angry with you, but he wished he was. he wished he was furious, upset with you. you deserved to feel his anger somehow, sentiments of despair he’s felt, and that now exacerbated after finding out you had deleted his phone number, as if he wasn’t someone special to you once.
“we have nothing to talk about.”
kazutora’s hand brushes over his face, rapidly. you hear his breathing, heavy, on the other line.
“about the night of my birthday, you’ve ignored me since then.”
“we have nothing to talk about,” you repeat. “i’m sorry kazutora, i’m busy.”
“don’t do this to me,” kazutora whispers.
you fall silent, and kazutora shuts his eyes, he sees stars under his eyelids. he doesn’t want to react the wrong way, he doesn’t want to spur out against you, but he’s not sure what you’re expecting from him. he’s not sure what you’re thinking, for the first time, and he’s not sure what exactly you’re trying to do.
“i’m hanging up.”
“let’s talk, please,” kazutora pleads.
kazutora parks his motorcycle outside your apartment. he texts you he’s there, and waits for you to go meet him in the parking lot. you told him he couldn’t come up to your place, and kazutora, hoping to meet you again, accepted.
he was cold, and it was still raining. he’d forgotten to bring an umbrella once you agreed to meet him, running out of the shop in hopes to see you again. kazutora hadn’t noticed how dependant he’d become to you until he saw you walking through the gate, in a big sweatshirt and a scowl in your face.
you were holding an umbrella, but instead of approaching him, you stood on the sidewalk, holding the umbrella over your own head.
“what is it?” you ask.
kazutora realizes you do not want to be there. but he doesn’t understand why. what did he do for you to push him away like this?
kazutora clears his throat, attempting to walk over you, but you were quick to take a step back. you didn’t want him to approach you, kazutora noted.
“you left,” kazutora starts. “that morning, you didn’t say anything.”
“i had classes.”
“and you didn’t call or text, to tell me if you were alright.”
you take a look back, as if you were waiting for someone to appear behind you.
“i forgot.”
“you forgot to text me for a month?”
“i was busy, kazutora, you know how busy these months turn.”
kazutora wants to bite his tongue, he really does, but how is he supposed to watch you lie to him in front of his face?
“you didn’t seem busy that day he went to pick you up.”
you frowned, clearly angered. “what?”
“i saw him picking you up after your classes, you didn’t seem busy.”
“you were stalking me?” you pressed.
“no,” kazutora frowned. “i was hoping to talk to you, i don’t know what happened and i want to know what i did to make push you away.”
“you know what you did.”
kazutora frowns, and this time, he strolls over you. the top of the umbrella covers your eyes, and kazutora pushes it off just a little for you to see him.
“what did i do?”
you look down, your knuckles turning white of the force you were gripping the stick of the umbrella with.
“you kissed me.”
“i did?”
you bite your lip. he knows you’re aware of your lie, such a blatant lie. you could never lie to him, or anyone for that matter. you were too honest for your own good. but that night, you were trying to lie to his face, knowing you couldn’t.
“i was drunk.”
“and i stopped you, or do you not remember that?”
suddenly, the streets in front of your apartment building are not empty anymore. the traffic is loud, like it always is at some point of the night. you’d complain the first time you had moved in there, sometimes trying to stay at kazutora’s place to avoid it. until you grew accustomed to it, and then, you weren’t able to sleep without the sound of rapid cars and growling motors.
kazutora remembers sleeping a few times at your place, hating the noise. but you loved it, and he started to love it too, knowing it somehow calmed you.
kazutora takes a step back. he’s still hurt, but the anger that had brought him there no longer moves inside him. he sighs, and his tensed shoulders drop.
“was i wrong to do so?” kazutora speaks.
you frown, confused. “what?”
“stopping you, was i wrong for stopping you?”
that’s now what kazutora is trying to say, but he can’t bring himself to say it outloud.
were you perhaps scared of your own feelings? of the possibility of him not feeling the same way? was that it? was that why you were trying to avoid him all along?
that wasn’t like you; you were straightforward, and your honesty got you in trouble most of the time. and with kazutora, you never held any secrets, you were nothing but an open book. what did he do?
“we can’t, kazutora,” you whispered.
kazutora frowns, and he tries to touch your hand, but you push his hand away. hedoesn’t notice the tears in your eyes until he’s barely a step away from you. your face is filled with tears, and your body shakes with every sob that leaves your mouth. kazutora freezes, unsure of what to do, as he watches you suffer.
“what do you mean?”
“we can’t do this, kazutora, i’m sorry--”
“why not?” kazutora asks, and finally, he gets a hold of your hand. he holds it up to his chest, and his heart beats against it, rapidly. “i like you too, y/n, i love you.”
your shakes with the sob that leaves your mouth, and kazutora shakes with you, because why does it seem like your eyes are blinded by the pain you’re feelings, unknown to him? why are you gripping your own chest as if he was trying to steal it from you?
“we’re friends, kazutora, just friends!”
kazutora frowns, shaking his head as he tries to hold you in his arms, to comfort you, but you push away.
“then why did you kiss me?” kazutora says.
the umbrella falls next to your body, your trembling body that shakes with the cold, with your pain. kazutora doesn’t like it, and he doesn’t understand it. because if you love him like he does, why are you suffering?
“it was a mistake.”
“a mistake?” kazutora’s voice falters. “it wasn’t a mistake.”
“it was for me, and i’m sorry i gave you the wrong impression,” you inhaled, wiping the tears off your face rather harshly, leaving a red mark on your face.
you no longer shake, and you softly shake his hand off your shoulders, hands that were gripping you tightly as if you were to run away, kazutora searches for you eyes, confused, and lost.
a dog starts barking not far away, and the two of you jump.
“what do you mean?”
“i don’t think of you that way kazutora.”
“i love you too, i do--”
you kneel to grab your umbrella again.
kazutora doesn’t move, neither does he react when you place the umbrella above his head, grabbing his hand to wrap his fingers around it.
he tries to speak up.
“kazutora,” you interrupt, your voice no longer holding that melody of yours, that friendly, loving tone that you always used with him. your voice is firm, and your eyes traverse his. kazutora is left mouth closed, unable to move. “i think it’s better if we leave it here.”
“i love you,” he whispers again, hoping you’ll hear him, his silent plea.
kazutora tries to take a step closer to you, to hold you one last time, to try and get to you one last time.
but he can’t.
“we can’t be friends anymore.”
you disappear again, like that morning. you walk faster than ever, running inside your building, despite his attempt to run after you, to beg for an answer, for another word, for another way, to beg for your company, for your understanding, for an explanation, for anything you could give him, anything.
but you’re long gone, kazutora notes as his throat dries and his lungs barely hold him up. kazutora blinks, hoping it’s a nightmare he’s found himself in.
summary: you have underestimated spring, but so have you underestimated fall.
cw: blood mention.
wordcount: 3.6k!
you had underestimated spring again.
shaking a bit, you were standing by the balcony of the building you were waiting in. this was pretty far from your own home, and although it hadn’t been long, you surely were more and more nervous every minute that passed.
tutoring wasn’t your favorite after school hobby. the money was good, and sometimes teaching was fun, but not when you didn’t choose your student yourself.
your mother was quite a convincing woman. every day after school you’d sit with her to eat, and she would talk about many things. you had to admit that sometimes you’d doze off, still, you were sure to always nod for her.
she had been talking about a colleague she’d met not long ago.you remember the moment she told you another woman had started working with her, and since that, always hearing about her and everything the two of them talked about. you hadn’t met her just yet, but you sure believed she was pretty great, and were glad that she befriended your mother. you loved seeing your mom happy.
one day, your mother, right after you got home from school, asked you for a favor.
“sweetie,” she spoke from the kitchen as you placed your bag on the table, reluctant. “it’s not that far, plus, i think the kid goes to your school too, so, wouldn’t that be great?”
your mother, between chats, had found out about her new friend’s family, a kid your age that had a little trouble with his classes. of course, your mother had told her you were a good tutor, and willing to give her and her kid a hand. however, you were unsure. exams were coming, and you thought you were tutoring way too many people, another one would be a little hard, especially if they were your same age.
nonetheless, you headed off. after all, you had to give it a try, right?
and like that, 15 minutes had passed.
your mother’s friend had called you explaining the situation and thanking you for your help. she worked all day, so, you would have to wait for her son to get home. he was supposed to be there already, she had promised you, as she let you know she’d told him to get back home right after school. even offered for him to walk you to his place, but you had to tell her you had extracurriculars, that’s why, he had even a few more minutes to get home.
once you got to their complex, you knocked on the door, quite a few times, every time louder. you didn’t lose your temper easily, so you considered, but your time was quite precious, specially since that day was your only free day.
you had decided to sit for a while and study, reading your material. however, you could barely concentrate, and deciding the day would be tough enough, you decided to wait by the balcony of the building, in hopes of seeing him coming.
you had forgotten to ask her his name, but you were sure you’d recognize the kid the moment you saw him.
as you were yawning, from the corner of your eye, you noticed someone with your uniform, though, he surely wasn’t wearing the correct way.
with long black hair and a smile on his face, you saw a boy, probably older than you, you supposed, walking on the street where the building is. you noticed it from your place, not so far from his own vision field, a cut on his eyebrows and red knuckles, full of blood. you blink, and try to look the other way, hoping he hadn’t noticed you there.
you were taking subtle steps back until you noticed a group of six guys approaching the corner running, you thought, right behind him.
he seemed to notice them the same time as you, and as he waited for them to reach his side, the guy didn’t waste a second.
you heard it all, although you had ran to hide by the staircase, where you could also see everything. the noise was loud, and you for sure knew he had broken a few noses. he didn’t say a word though, neither did them. you decided to head back to the door of the apartment you were waiting on, refusing to continue watching the brutal beating. you duck in front of the door, clutching your knees.
everything is silent, you notice. you close your eyes, resting your head on your knees, resolving there was nothing you could do but wait.
you hear it before you see it, and the steps get closer and closer.
“excuse me.”
you look up, and jump to your feet.
he’s standing in front of you, no longer smiling. he’s not angry, you suppose, instead, he’s serious. almost as if he didn’t want you to suspect him of anything. as if you hadn’t seen with your own two eyes.
“i’m waiting for baji keisuke,” you instantly say.
he frowns and then he smiles again (only slightly).
“oh, i see,” he pulls out a pair of keys from his pocket. “come in.”
you trail right behind him, trying to avoid looking around too much. normally you get nervous about entering people’s houses, but today is not only that: it so happens that you’re entering the house of a guy that beat six other guys up right before getting home.
he walks further into the house, and you don’t have the guts to tell him you’d prefer studying by the kitchen. instead, you follow him inside what you can guess is his room.
he moves to the side right in front of the frame of the door, waiting for you to enter first. you nod, and walk inside the room.
you’re surprised by the furniture and desk on the corner to the left of the room: he had a lot of books.
you stand there, awkwardly, waiting for his next commands.
“you can sit here, i’ll bring juice,” he says, although he doesn’t wait for you to finish.
you didn’t really want juice, if anything, you wanted to get it over quick.
unconsciously, you look around. it’s like any other boy’s room, a little tidier than what you’d expected from a guy like him.
you spin your head, looking at his books in hopes of finding something that could probably help for today’s class. that’s when you notice, despite having a shelf fool of learning material, most of his books are mangas. you chuckle, sitting back on the floor. the window is open, and you notice the trail of food on one of the stands.
his desk is neat, you think, and you start to wonder if you had genuinely confused the person here with you with the person you had seen before. maybe they were a little similar, maybe you needed to get your sight checked.
he enters the room again, with a plate of cookies and two glasses filled with juice. you thank him, pulling out the notebooks and books for the tutoring class.
he asks you to wait a moment, and leaves the room again. not long after, he comes back with glasses on his face and a low ponytail.
you see it then.
you know him, after all.
he’s in the class next to yours, the new kid everyone talks about, for some reason.
you frown for a moment. he seemed like a smart kid, why’d he need tutoring?
it doesn’t take you long to find out.
“it’s really simple,” you say, taking the pen again and skidding a little closer to him on the floor. “you’re in the right path, it’s just missing something.”
baji keisuke is a pretty smart kid, you begin to learn. he’s quick and picks on material really fast, his only problem was that he sometimes got too eager and mixed up small details, but it was nothing practice couldn’t change.
you can’t help but look at him sometimes. he’s different from any guy your age you had met, almost as if he had this really mature vibe to him. you had always considered yourself pretty smart for your own age, but baji was ahead of you, you believed.
time flew faster than you were expecting, and quickly an hour had passed. it was getting dark and you had to head back home.
“okay,” you exclaim, closing your book. “that’s all for today. if it’s fine with you, i can come the same day and hour next week.”
“i’ll walk you home.”
you stand up, waving your hands, “you don’t need to,” you chuckle, gripping your bag.
“c’mon, let me get my keys.”
and like that, it’s became your routine.
you tutor baji keisuke every wednesday in the afternoon, sometimes longer than what you normally tutor. sometimes you check the time, and three hours have passed, but you don’t mind. baji is different from what you had expected, and for a moment, you genuinely start to wonder if he was the same kid you had seen and supposedly fought the other day. after all, he still had that cut on his eyebrow.
he would walk you home in silence. he wasn’t very talkative, and neither were you. but he never left you alone until he made sure you were inside your house, simply waving goodnight to you and walking back to his place.
his mother sometimes comes home in the middle of classes, and greets you two from the frame of the door. she resembles him a lot, you think.
it’s not like the two of you became friends. at school, not only did you barely see him, but he would never really look your way. it was fine, after all, it’s not like you were trying to become his friends. baji was another kid you tutored, and you supposed he wanted to keep it that way too.
one day, you were walking back home. baji’s mother had cancelled the class for today, as baji had asked since he was going out with his friends. at first, you did get a little hurt. after all, he did need the tutoring classes.
but also because it made you realize that, probably, only you were enjoying his company.
it was fine, the two of you weren’t friends, and had no intention nor need to befriend each other. everything was fine.
still, you couldn’t stop thinking about it as you crossed the street. for some reason, you had decided to take the longer way to your house. you didn’t want to get back to studying just yet, but either had any other plans for the day, so, you decided wandering around for a few minutes wasn’t that bad.
that’s when you saw him, or so you thought. the same guy you had seen by baji’s complex, with long black hair and a big smile on his face.
this time, you had no doubt: it was baji keisuke.
you weren’t planning to approach him nor greet him, but still, you did wish he would look your way.
but instead, you saw something, enough for you to jolt.
baji was fighting, you had no doubt it was him. even though he wasn’t wearing his glasses, the low ponytail was undeniable, it was him.
it was loud, and the sky was dark. baji was surrounded by a few guys, but he didn’t mind. with brutal force and rapid movements, he kicked a few on the face while punching others on the floor until they were left unconscious.
you weren’t sure if he was alone, and, too absorbed by the situation and fear, some guys on the other side noticed you staring.
“hey!”
you flinched, finally realizing they had seen you, and taking off to the other side, in hopes they would ignore your presence.
but they didn’t, you’re quick to note, as your steps get faster and faster until you’re running with eight guys trailing right behind you.
you’re out of breath, and tears are cornering your eyes as you try to lose them, and hope for them to give up chasing after you.
the roaring of a motor makes you jump, and as you look over your shoulder, you realize no one is following you anymore.
“hey.”
you jump again, and spin around at the familiar tone.
baji keisuke is standing on the street, with a motorcycle behind him. the machine is quite big, with an unfamiliar drawing on its tank. he doesn’t seem happy, though.
“what were you doing?” he approaches you.
“n—nothing,” you say, raising your hands. “i was just walking back h—home.”
baji clicks his tongue, annoyed. your heart sinks.
“come here.”
you shake your head, “it’s fine.”
he doesn’t like your answer, walking over to you. you back away, shaking your hands and refusing to approach him. you could see it from far away, his hand full of blood, a few droplets on his face and clothes.
“i’ll drive you home, come here,” baji insists, taking a hold of your wrist.
“i said no!”
you’re as surprised as he is. you tremble, encouraging yourself to smile at him, despite wanting to run away as fast as possible.
“i—it’s fine, really, it’s just right by the street, you know, right around the corner, and you’re busy, so, yeah.”
“i’m not busy,” he deadpans, and you’re getting more uneasy. he doesn’t seem happy, at all.
“goodnight, baji,” you mutter, nodding your head.
he doesn’t follow nor object. still, you know he’s looking at you pass the street you had lied about, where you had told him you were supposed to turn.
you came up with every possible excuse. you felt awful for your mother’s friend. she had been nothing but nice to you, and you could tell just how happy it made her for you to help her son. but you weren’t sure if you’d be able to go and see baji again.
you started to have nightmares.
yeah, you knew boys fought every now and then. you had seen school fights.
but you had never seen so much blood in your life. not only that, but the image you had of baji had completely changed.
yeah, he wasn’t your friend. yeah, you didn’t know him that much, gosh, you weren’t close.
but how were you supposed to go back into his room as if you hadn’t seen what he was capable of?
he was no good, and you didn’t want to get involved with him either.
you couldn’t bring yourself to tell your mom, though. and you were wondering if his mother knew baji was a kid like that.
in conclusion, baji keisuke was someone you were hoping to forget about soon.
classes had ended, finally. you were pretty tired, and the thought of how much homework and material you had to go through made your head hurt even more.
distracted by this, you didn’t notice baji standing by the school’s gates.
he wasn’t looking your way, and as many other students were leaving, you rushed outside in between them, hoping he didn’t notice you.
but he did, you noted as he took a hold of your wrist. you were going to tell him you were in a hurry, but the look on his face was enough for you to understand you had to at least hear him out.
“i need help,” he says. he no longer smiles to you, but now, you don’t brush it off. you fear he is in fact upset at you. “i have an upcoming exam and i can’t fail.”
you nod, looking around, hoping someone would approach the two of you.
although against your will, you learnt even more about baji.
you found out he was part of a gang (hence the fighting) and he was quite famous among other delinquents. you also found out he was involved in a homicide, in which he was sent to juvenile detention for a while.
rumors were flying around and not long after the whole school found out about baji and how dangerous he and his friends were.
it was enough for you to decide you’d make sure to never cross paths with him again.
“please,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “i need to pass this exam.”
“i’m sorry, i’m a little busy,” you mutter, noticing he’s still holding on to your wrist. you pull away. “but i can find someone that can help you, don’t worry, in fact i—”
“i don’t want somebody else,” he mutters, sighing. you bite your lip, nervous. “i need you, just this time.”
you really don’t want to. you’re shaking just at the thought of getting involved with baji after everything you know about him.
you are not going back there, you promise yourself.
you take your phone out, searching in your saved phone numbers.
“here,” you say, pointing at your phone. “it’s the number of another kid from my class that’s really with good with that subject, i promise, he’s better than me.”
baji looks at you, ignoring the phone. as if he were trying to tell you something, he sighs again, pulling out his phone too. he copies the phone number on his phone, and nods. “thanks,” is everything he says.
you get home a little later that day, but your mom isn’t home yet.
you wonder if baji’s mother had told her about the situation, or if baji has told her the situation. despite his begging, you had decided to back away from helping baji, and it was weighing on your conscience.
but you couldn’t bring yourself to approach the guy again, not after everything you knew.
and it was better that way, you kept telling yourself.
a few weeks passed, and, to your luck, you hadn’t seen nor heard about baji.
your mother never asked you about it, neither do you believe baji's mom.
it was late, and you were getting fatigued by your homework. past midnight, you knew your mother was already asleep. so you should’ve, but you were stubborn and refused to get on bed until you were completely done with your work.
you heard something by your window next to your desk. thinking it was probably a bird, you continued to solve the questions in your textbooks.
another hit, and you realized it wasn’t a bird.
unsure, you approached your window.
baji keisuke was standing in front of it, wearing a sweatshirt and dark jeans. he looked around before approaching your window, waiting for you to open it for him.
“hey,” you whisper, confused.
“i’m sorry, i know it’s late, but i saw your lights on and i thought i could talk to you,” baji scratches the back of his neck. “are you busy?”
“no,” you shake your head, a little shy. baji seems different, you believe. “what is it?”
“i have a question, but my new tutor won’t pick up my calls,” he whispers, chuckling. your stomach drops, feeling guilty. “it’s something little, but my exam is tomorrow and i think it’s important that i have it right.”
you nod, and baji brings the textbook you didn’t notice he was holding to the small space of your window, with a pen in hand too.
“what is it?” you ask again, unsure.
“here,” he points with his fingers a quite dirty space of his page, that seems to be written on and erased multiple times. “i can’t seem to get it right.”
you look at the problem, trying to identify his mistake, until a cold, harsh breeze shakes the textbooks pages, along with his hair.
it’s not that big of a mistake, you realize, and sighing, you open your window wider, “you can come in, if you’d like.”
that night, you spend it reviewing with baji. he seems to know a lot, you note, but still, he seems to get confused, or uncertain about certain concepts he does know. but he’s quick to pick on it, and quickly, the night comes to an end.
your alarm goes off, and you jolt. your back cracks, as you spent the night on your bedroom floor. next to you, you notice baji still asleep.
you also notice the blanket wrapped around your legs, one you surely don’t remember grabbing.
you sigh, feeling guilty. tapping his back, you tell baji it’s time he heads back to his place so he can get ready for school.
baji seems to be in a good mood that morning despite the two of you sleeping for barely three hours, and thanking you for your help, he jumps out of your window and runs towards his house.
you can’t stop thinking about it, worried about baji and his performance on his exam, hoping he does well.
but it doesn’t last long, as you watch him running through the hallway, and surprisingly, towards you.
he spins you around in a hug, a little too excited. he has a bright smile on his face.
“everything we studied yesterday was in the test!” he exclaims, and you start to notice the weird looks your way.
“i’m glad!” you admit, smiling too.
baji looks out the window of the corridor, completely oblivious of the whispering and chattering of people around the two of you.
“thank you,” he finally says, still looking out.
“it’s fine, you don’t have to thank me, after all—”
“thanks for your help,” he mutters again.
you don’t speak again, instead, approaching his side to watch outside the window too.
you steal a few looks his way, maybe on purpose, maybe not, and you swear you had never seen that look on your face.
then you realize that, maybe you’re falling in love.
you’d never entertained the thought–once he’d left your life, he’d been permanently erased from the frontal lobe of your brain.
but the mind is a fragile, cowardly thing, and when it’s pushed against a wall, its guard falls like weak leaves after the winter, useless, to the floor.
you don’t want to look at him for too long, hoping to hold onto whatever mind peace you’d built for all these years, though peace you begin to wonder if it was ever strong enough to make you forget, or was it the fact he’d disappeared without a trace.
in any other circumstance, you would’ve left. it was a promise you’d made yourself when you turned 21–protecting your mind peace. you wouldn’t entertain people for long, and you wouldn’t threaten your space in places you believed weren’t for you, but tonight it wasn’t about you, and you’d be not only a coward, but a selfish friend too.
it was your friend’s engagement party. she’d said it would be a small celebration with only friends and family. you couldn’t blame her though, it had been your fault, forgetting that he was considered, like you, family. still, you’d hoped he wouldn’t show up. he’d disappeared for a while, that even your friend and her fiance had forgotten, or at least stopped mentioning him. it could’ve been for your wellbeing, if you really think about it.
of course, you arrived a little late. for some reason, the usual train you’d take had decided to run late, and so you had to run over to the restaurant from a different stop. you didn’t get a chance to fix your hair or even check your appearance when you stumbled inside the restaurant, an italian restaurant with little crowd and dim, warm lights and red accents here and there. you didn’t stare for too long, instead, trying to quietly integrate with the rest of the guests into the party. your friend hadn’t noticed you yet, at least not until you had sat down, when she pointed towards you as she was giving her toast.
you smiled, shyly, as she waved her hands towards you, directing the eyes of the guest your way. she was like this, always, and you had never minded it. you only smiled, waving your hands and pouting your lips at the beautiful words your friend was sharing with the rest of the people there, and slowly, your eyes took a look at every single one of the guests in the restaurant.
one of your many mistakes of the night.
you looked twice, confused. it was like you were dreaming–or having a nightmare, to be exact. because the first time your eyes met, he was looking at you, with such grimness, like he’d seen a ghost, and the next time you looked, he’d faced the couple in the front again. like a dagger to your heart, lovingly twisted by his own hands, your chest tightened, and posture stiffened.
what was he thinking about? that was all you were wondering, as your friend continued her speech.
you had never been good at goodbyes–you had never been able to get past it all, a relationship you held tight, in the back of your mind despite the many efforts of forgetting him.
but it was hard, when draken was half of your life. since you were a teen, you’d shared so many things with him, that it was impossible to forget him. impossible to escape him.
but you had tried, and you had fought against the many questions, every comment and every compassion, unwanted pity and unwanted sympathy.
you couldn’t blame them, either. draken was part of your life, like you’d been his. he was your other half, or maybe, its totality.
maybe that was it, the realization you had tried to avoid. the reason why it’s so hard to breathe as you walk into the other room, following your friend right behind like a puppy, wishing and hoping no one would notice the change in the tone, the shift in the room. your friend sent a look your way, but she was too busy to truly wait, stop, and talk to you. though you wouldn’t have wanted an apology from her, or any pity, or any comment about it. if anything, you wished you could continue living a lie. living as if he’d never existed, hoping he would disappear again.
but of course, you now know that luck is never on your side.
he approaches you, as quiet as he’s ever been. his fragrance reaches you fast, like a wave, like the clouds, ruining any other sunny day. but you know he has no ill intentions, no, draken was never like that.
but like he changed his hair, you wonder if he’d changed too.
“i wasn’t planning on coming,” he says, as if you both had shared a conversation for a few minutes now. you’re confused, but you only nod your head.
“that’d be rude,” you said. draken laughed, kind of. a faint smile and a nod of his head as his hands slid through your back to your waist.
the music was soft, barely there. or perhaps, you couldn’t focus on the atmosphere, or the people around you. his warmth was like a spell, like a cage around you.
draken was too strong, you thought. how was he able to come here, and hold you like the old days? how was he capable of looking through your eyes as if you two were those lovers from eight years ago? you weren’t strong, brave enough to hold him back. because you knew, if you were to touch his shoulders, nobody would be able to pull him away from you, ever.
the question was on the tip of your tongue, like a sour candy, ready to be swallowed at any moment. you didn’t want to say it out loud, afraid of his answer, but you couldn’t hold the darkness any longer.
“have you been alright?”
draken nods his head, and softly, he guides your hands towards his shoulders. you thank the fabric draped over his shoulders, a black jacket over his white dress shirt and a simple, thin tie wrapped around his neck, falling over his chest like a necklace.
“as good as i can be,” draken replies, and he laughs, again, with that flashing smile, as flashing as subtle. “what about you?”
were you alright?
you’d always thought you were. life had brought you many places, but lately, your life had been more enjoyable than ever. because you had forgotten about him, finally. or that’s what you thought. now, you know that was nothing but a lie. though a lie you’d kept for years after he left, leaving your apartment in the middle of the night with just what he was wearing after one single fight. his clothes, and all his belongings had haunted you for months, as you waited for him to return. not for you–that you knew, that everything had ended, but hoping he’d come back for his things. hoping he’d get rid of these nightmares and the presence of that same cologne that follows you with every swift move around the dance hall.
it was hard to explain what happened, perhaps it’s why till this day you can’t remember. the fight was present, that was for sure. the screaming and shaking of your shared apartment. the look of his face and the fear in your bones, the fear of his departure, of his demise. it was bound to happen, maybe. maybe it had never been ever after, but you’d held onto the hope of a life by his side.
he was your other half, and everybody knew that. when they asked about you, they asked about him. whenever someone would speak to him, they’d speak about you. you were in each other’s presence even if you weren’t in the same room. he was behind you even if he was streets away from you. and at night, you’d hold him tight, so tight as you’d tell him how much you wished he never left your side.
you loved draken so deeply, it hurt you, sometimes. you’d said this once, a night after tangling your limbs around his body and pressing your mouth to his nape, impossibly close. you’d whispered, a silly question, that draken had shut down immediately.
“would you ever leave me?”
draken had turned around with such abruptness, you almost fell off the bed. leaning over his elbows, those loving eyes held nothing but accusation, and draken was fuming when he assured you he would never, ever leave you.
after that, it’s like everything went downhill.
you were 21 at that time, when draken decided to finally leave you.
you didn’t remember the fight, but you remembered his face, and it haunted you. the proof that love wasn’t eternal, at least not with him.
a subtle tug of your heart brought you back to reality, and you faced him again.
“i’m fine.”
draken nodded, “i heard you’ve been working at that office across the street, that big building with the huge windows. like you had dreamed.”
you didn’t look at him, instead, taking a look around. but everything was blurry, and you weren’t sure if people were looking your way–if anything was witnessing the scene the two of you were playing.
two strangers that meet again, no longer strangers. perhaps never strangers.
“listen, ken, i don’t think–”
“i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispers.
“don’t–”
“i didn’t mean to, trust me,” draken sighs, and with his hand he guides your face to his shoulder. that’s when you noticed the tears that now fall with no remorse.
you didn’t cry the night he left. in front of him, nor in the darkness of your empty room. you didn’t cry a single tear for him, and the years of love you’d shared since you were teenagers.
now, it’s like all that pain had struck you with a single blow, expecting you to pour it out. but you didn’t want to, because you didn’t deserve to humiliate yourself in the middle of your friend’s special night, and you didn’t want draken to know just how much you missed him. how much you’d wished that instead of such a tragic night, in which the two of you met again after eight years, you’d spend the night celebrating, and wishing for an evening just like this. hidden in each other’s comfort, against the world.
but it wasn’t like that, and you’d be a fool to accept any of his excuses, or the ones you were trying to come up with.
you didn’t deserve it, and he didn’t deserve it, either.
so, with hurt in your heart and heavy breathing, you took a step back. you smiled, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your dress, and you said, “goodnight.”
sakusa was the kind of man you had always dreamt of.
the two of you met at 18 — or you could say; the two of you knew each other’s existence, at least.
sakusa was a quiet guy, and neither of you had friends in common or knew someone from each other’s circle. but, somehow, and although you weren’t expecting it, sakusa recognized you one day, in the middle of the hallway while you were on your way to one of your classes. the two of you studied at the same university (you had known long ago, sakusa was quite the popular guy; but as for him, you didn’t have any idea, and until then, you could’ve sworn he completely ignored your existence).
you never expected for the two of you to hit it off. you weren’t the friendly type, nor were you shy, but, although studying in the same establishment since kids, sakusa had never looked your way, and you never expected him to.
you were quick to find out he wasn’t that oblivious of your existence like he’d tricked you into thinking.
sakusa was a passionate guy. you knew that already, but, when it came to love, he had no limits. it was hard to explain, really, and you’re sure if any of your school classmates found out about sakusa and his mysterious love ways, they would roll their eyes and call you crazy. but it didn’t matter, because they didn’t need to know just how much sakusa loved you, because that love and passion was only for you to feel.
you didn’t date for long before he was on one knee, with a velvet box that could’ve come out of a movie. you cried, and so did he, a little, although he always says he didn’t essentially cry.
and god, was there more of him, and this enormous love he seemed to have for you? you’d be surprised.
everyday felt like a honeymoon, and a life with him wasn’t a dream anymore, it was your reality. sakusa was so full of love for you, you wondered how lucky you were to be receiving all of this. he needed you by his side at all times. nights were spent giggling, talking, cuddling, kissing, loving. sakusa always kept a hand on you, an eye on you, but you never felt caged or pressured, no, contrarily, you felt immense relief every time he’d look your way. it was crazy to think you deserved all the love sakusa had inside of him, and you were grateful.
marriage was fun, too.
it was silly, almost like two kids in love. despite the rings on each of your promise fingers, sometimes you’d forget sakusa was your husband — and then he’d pout about it because how could you forget? you had to remember at all times!
sakusa was the man you’d always wished — hoped to meet. the man you sought before going to bed at thirteen, at seventeen, and at twenty. he was real, and he was yours.
late at night, when he’d come home, late from his practices and after a long shower where you’d fight the heaviness of your eyelids and cold from your open arms, waiting for him, you’d embrace him all night, as if he were to disappear by the time you woke up, a peculiar habit that had grown into you. sakusa never questioned it, nor commented about it, he let you keep him in place at nights, and he’d savour every gesture you had for him.
by your first anniversary, you believed sakusa was perfect.
all those small details about him had completely disappeared as time passed by. sakusa wasn’t the guy you thought he was at the age of fifteen, no; he was the love of your life, the man you’d spend the rest of your life with. sakusa was yours, and you were his.
but how silly of you, to believe change doesn’t come.
how silly of you to hold onto time, and expect it to pass by.
your second anniversary wasn’t like the first one, where the two of you spent the night tangled, wrapped around each other’s bodies, laughing and kissing under the light of the moon, hoping tomorrow wouldn’t come, hoping the two of you could stay forever as one, no.
your second anniversary, sakusa wasn’t in bed when you woke up. before that, nothing had changed. he had kissed you the night before, and held you the night before like he’d always done. he’d told you he loved you and hummed against your neck as you kept a hand wrapped around his arm, like any other night.
that morning he wasn’t there, nor was a note or a rose, or balloons or any hint of him.
you didn’t call him that day, knowing a match was coming next week, and knowing he was probably a nervous wreck. you knew sakusa could still get a little shaken by these things, despite already being a professional. but he was young, and so were you; there was nothing wrong with a little mistake.
that day you felt a little off, though.
your body was sore, weakened, and you could barely focus your sight on anything in front of you. the noise felt a little too high for you, and your appetite was gone.
you decided to write sakusa a note, and head off to the hospital.
you didn’t get sick often, and god forbid something happened to you that could affect him; you knew that sakusa had to be in perfect shape for his upcoming match. so, after tidying and cleaning up your home, you headed off, with hopes of finding out if you were genuinely sick or it was a sudden cold you had to take care of.
that night, you could barely look at sakusa in the eye.
he apologized, and talked about the day he had and how hard practice was. how nervous he was feeling and how pressured he was. he offered to take you out, but you declined. you only smiled and kissed his forehead, telling him you could celebrate after his match.
sakusa was too out of it to realize your behavior, and for the first time, you slept with your back facing him, with your arms wrapped around your body. it was winter, and sakusa was too tired to notice, as you shivered under the blankets with your eyes wide open.
you were overreacting, you kept telling yourself. still, you decided it had to wait. sakusa had much more important things to focus on.
another week passed, and another did, as you waited for the perfect moment to announce the news.
sakusa, for the first time, begged you to eat out with him. he had this dinner planned since he realized he’d forgotten your anniversary, and was too uneasy to let it go, he couldn’t help but feel bad.
as for you, you were too nervous to attend. because you knew you’d have to break it out one way or another.
you didn’t know why you were so nervous, after all, wasn’t sakusa the love of your life? hadn’t he promised you to stay by his side forever?
sakusa eyes you, this time, a little more worried. your attitude hasn’t been ignored by him, and he was starting to wonder what got you so distraught; it wasn’t like you at all.
sakusa was ordering for the two of you when he asked for a bottle of wine. the waitress looked at you, and as she did, the smile she had on her face vanished little by little, not enough for sakusa to notice. she gave you another look, and retracted back to the kitchen.
you let sakusa do the talk. you were quiet, nodding mindlessly at everything he had to say, and you felt awful for it. this wasn’t like you, and sakusa didn’t deserve it.
you decided it was time, as the bottle of wine arrived.
“there’s something i have to tell you,” you mutter, as the waitress pours wine on sakusa’s glass. he looks up at you, a smile bigger than ever. “don’t freak out.”
“freak out?” he chuckles, thanking the girl and taking a quick sip.
“sakusa,” you call again, and the waitress takes a step back, leaving the two of you with a nod of her head. the last look she sends your way doesn’t go unnoticed by you, or sakusa, as he notices she has left without pouring wine for you.
sakusa frowns, and now, he’s a little agitated by your tone. he waits, and waits for you to speak up again.
“what is it, angel?”
“i’m pregnant.”
you don’t know if he’s shocked by the news, or shocked by the situation the two of you find yourselves in.
like a movie, time skips over mindless, meaningless details.
time passes faster than you expect it, but you don’t seem to be part of the story at all. as if you were watching everything from up there, watching every interaction, every moment you two shared:
or didn’t share anymore.
sakusa takes a step back everytime you seem out of it, hurting, or sick. he doesn’t mendle with you whenever you seem to have a hard time, instead calling his older sister for anything that could do with you. you don’t question it, nor comment on it, as every afternoon his sister sits by your side and helps you with anything you need.
he barely approaches you at night, and makes sure you go to bed first before he gets in. you swallow any kind of pain to feel at night, as you know if you make a noise, sakusa moves further away from you. it’s like he barely can see you.
the suffering finally comes to an end, and not long before that, you find out you’re expecting a girl.
but you don’t tell sakusa, as you believe, he doesn’t want to know just yet. his sister hugs you in a tight embrace when you tell her, and when she suggests a big baby shower to celebrate the coming of your daughter. and despite your refusal, you’re surprised by a small get away with your close friends and girlfriends of sakusa’s teammates.
the day after, sakusa seems a little grumpier than usual, and you start to wonder if he’s upset about finding out through his teammates about your daughter, or the fact that in the first place, you’re having a girl.
you never talked about these things with sakusa, and now you deeply regret it. you can’t seem to remember if he’d ever wanted kids, or if he did, he wanted a boy instead.
talking to him was useless, and you didn’t even try unless he initiated it. but, once your baby was in your arms, nothing mattered, as you cried, holding your baby to your chest, a beautiful girl with two big dots of eyes, bright under the lights as she looked at you. you couldn’t stop crying despite the personnel there asking you to, but you couldn’t help it. after your baby was back in your arms, you noticed the two beauty marks under her eyebrow, and smiled. you closed your eyes, hoping the tears wouldn’t fall down.
sakusa wasn’t there the day she was delivered; he had a match.
and despite the congratulatory balloons and plushies that kept coming into your waiting room, nothing came from sakusa.
his sister was gonna pick you up and drive you back home, and when she did, she didn’t say anything about sakusa or where he was.
you arrived at a cold, lonely house. it was quiet, and despite sakusa’s constant offers, you told her you were alright. you could do this on your own.
sakusa came late at night to take a look at the baby in her crib, a white wooden little space with a few plushies around it, courtesy of meian, one of sakusa’s teammates that had begged you to take the toys with you for your baby. when he arrived at your room, you found out the match was over, and like sakusa’s sister, meian didn’t mention anything about him.
sakusa looked at you in silence. trembling as you were sitting by the baby, a book in your lap and a thin blanket keeping you warm. you looked tired, smaller than ever. sakusa lifted you off your seat, and brought you back to your shared bed. for the first time in a while, he kissed your eyelids, and embraced you.
the baby didn’t make a sound all night, and that became regular. she didn’t cry nor groan at all, a quiet, calm baby just like her father. sakusa barely approached her, but after a few weeks, sakusa started to pick her up. every morning he’d go towards her side of the room the two of you shared, and would greet her in a whisper, low enough so you could sleep. he’d pick her up for a moment, embracing the warmth of a baby quite similar to him for his own surprise, and then he’d place her back into her bed.
kioko is a happy baby, and she seems to giggle at everything her father does. sakusa asks sometimes for you to bring her after practice, and there the baby goes around the court, as he shows her off to everyone there, with a smile you haven’t seen in a while.
but whenever kioko needs a change, or to eat, or gets a little grumpy, sakusa disappears. conversations with him aren’t that easy, and you bottle it up every night at dinner, after the baby is asleep. sakusa speaks less now, and so do you. you were quick to realize he didn’t mind the baby’s routines or anecdotes. he didn’t ask about her often, unless he was at practice where he’d ask for pictures of the girl. but other than that, sakusa acted like the little girl wasn’t her daughter but someone else's baby.
you start to lose your patience. kioko isn’t quiet anymore, and now she’s learnt she can get a thing or two when she cries. and so she does. it’s not often that she’s hard to calm, but even if it’s a little grimace, sakusa completely loses it, and rushes inside the room or out of the house. he can’t stand the baby crying, nor can he stand to help you, at all.
it starts to affect you. you barely sleep three hours a day, and can barely keep up with the baby and the house. sakusa is always out, and the baby seems to demand more and more.
you put up with it another year. your baby is already one and she runs around the house on her knees and palms. she wears beautiful dresses you have to change every two hours, and she likes to laugh a lot. people that meet her outside seem to love it, it’s like everything kioko sees is funny for her. but when she’s at home, and so is daddy, she’s as quiet and shy as a cat.
sakusa seems to notice too; the girl does not fancy his presence. he tries to pick her up sometimes, but after a minute or two, she starts calling for you. it’s like sakusa wasn’t familiar enough for her to feel comfortable with, and that seems to annoy him a little.
but when she wants to spend time with him, sakusa completely ignores her.
sadly, your bad luck doesn’t end there either.
sakusa becomes restless. he seems to resent your girl or any moment she gets to spend with you, always eager to get your attention. suddenly you’re not invisible anymore, instead, something else bothers him.
his sister is often at the door, as you open with a puzzled look at her visit, and she explains sakusa called for her to take care of kioko.
the very first few times, you don’t say anything, and you go along sakusa. leaving everything behind, it’s like the man you fell in love with appears in front of you again, and sakusa has nothing but love for you. he’s sweet, he’s considerate, he’s in love with you again.
but your heart’s been hurting for a while now, and when he kisses you, everything comes back, scene by scene, to your head. the time he’d push you aside when you needed him the most, the moment your child was born and he didn’t even send a text to check on you. the disgusted looks he sends your way when you need to feed her or bath her, the ignorance at every time you’re hurting, everything comes and hits you.
sakusa isn’t the man you once thought he was, and you refuse to continue believing he is.
“we need to talk,” you tell him one night. another night he’s forced you to let your daughter back home for the two of you to spend time.
things aren’t the same anymore, as sakusa tends to trick you into eating dinner out as a date, and then ask you to spend a night at a hotel nearby for the two of you. the very first time seems a little fun; you miss the intimacy the two of you once shared, and sleeping quietly by his side calms your heart. but when you start to realize he tries to linger around longer in the mornings, as if he wanted to completely ignore the situation, your life back home, it starts to get to you.
you’re naked, with a blanket covering your chest. sakusa stops, the undone belt making a low noise as it stops shaking. you take a look at his bare chest, and then back at his eyes.
he approaches you again, kissing your neck. “we can talk after.”
“we have to do it now,” you mutter, placing both of your hands on his chest. sakusa stops, but you can see it in his eyes; he doesn’t like it.
“listen—”
“i think we should take some time,” you say.
sakusa is looking at you, but it feels like he’s trying to break into your mind. you shiver under his sight, like you have never done before.
“take some time?”
“it’s not the same anymore, you know that” your voice is breaking, but no tears are pooling your eyes nor are you sad. it’s like everything you once had, is gone. “i think it’s better if we figure it out before things escalate.”
sakusa is still immobile, confused, maybe, you don’t know. you can’t tell anymore.
you stand from the bed, and pick your clothes up from the floor. you search for every piece of cloth in silence. expecting sakusa to talk, or maybe not. there’s nothing much he could say, and nothing he could ask.
you continue talking as you pull on the sleeves of your dress.
“you don’t seem to like it, and that’s fine, that’s—that’s okay for me,” you mumble, now sliding into your heels. “maybe we should’ve talked about this before it happened. maybe we should’ve been more cautious. maybe we should’ve noticed before, i don’t know. but i know it’s not the environment i want my daughter to grow up in.”
sakusa makes a noise, a loud, ugly noise you’d never expect from a man like him. he stands up too, and in two strides he’s planted right in front of you. sometimes you forget how small you are compared to him, and if once you’d swoon over these kinds of details, you realize how dangerous that is.
it’s almost like sakusa wasn’t the man you thought he was.
“my daughter?”
“i mean our—”
“since she came along it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about me,” sakusa scoffs, no longer looking into your eyes. “and now i am forced to take a step back and wait for you to figure it out?”
“what do you mean?”
“no,” he simply responds.
“no what?” you sigh. “this isn’t up for discussion, sakusa. i need space, i need to figure out the situation, and so do you. we can’t keep acting like this; we’re a family.”
“since she came along it’s almost like you’ve completely forgotten about me,” sakusa repeats. “it’s you and me before her.”
you frown, and freeze.
“are you hearing yourself?”
“you’re not leaving, you can’t leave me,” sakusa places a hand on his forehead. “what about me!”
“you’re exactly why i’m leaving!” you respond, and the two of you seem to forget your surroundings.
sakusa has never raised his voice at you, nor have you. arguments were never a thing between you two, and you never had to fight for your pride, or sakusa. he was understanding, he was easy to speak to. sakusa wasn’t supposed to be the reason you felt confused, sakusa wasn’t supposed to be the one hurting you.
“i don’t get it,” he finally says, taking a step back.
you turn around, checking at the time in your phone. you’d made up your mind, and you had to start acting.
sakusa catches you just as you run towards the door. he holds you in place, to your surprise, with force you’d never expected for him to use on you.
“there’s nothing more to say, sakusa,” you say. “i’m taking kioko with me for a while to figure things out, not only for me but for you too.”
“you’re not leaving,” sakusa says again. “what about us?”
it’s almost like he wasn’t listening to you at all. for some reason, it feels like it’s been this way forever. since the moment you told him you were expecting a baby, expecting his own child, your first child, sakusa had completely switched. but it didn’t make sense, didn’t he love you? didn’t he want to be with you?
“what about it? tell me!” you scream, your voice hoarse.
sakusa blinks.
“you have to stay—”
“we’re not welcome there anymore, sakusa, you know that” your face is wet, as if the two of you were standing under the rain. but it’s not raining on top of his head, no. the rain only reaches you. “i won’t let you treat our daughter like that, i won’t let you ruin our family like that.”
“i was important to you before she came—”
“sakusa, it’s not you and me anymore!” you sigh, tired, fatigued, dizzy. it feels like a movie, like you were in a scene you wished you didn’t find yourself in. like a movie you never wanted to watch in the first place. the story is coming to an end, and you have finally realized it, despite the pain, despite the situation. it’s clear in your head. “our daughter doesn’t deserve to live in a place where her own father won’t look her way!”
sakusa snaps out of it, but you don’t mind him anymore, no, you’re not paying attention to him anymore. you’re dazed, lost in your thoughts, in your upcoming move, what path you will follow. you’re already out of the door in your head. your eyes are full of tears, and from his place, he can once again see how fragile you’ve become. how neglected you’ve been all along. but it’s not enough for you.
“you have to listen—”
“she looks at you like you’re a complete stranger! she doesn’t want to be near you, nor do you, and it breaks me like you’d never understand! and i don’t deserve it, she doesn’t deserve this, and i don’t deserve this” you’re panting, and your body shakes, to the point sakusa is afraid you will fall to your knees. but you don’t. “we need to figure things out on our own.”
“what are you saying?”
“you can visit her if you want to, but until i figure it out, we’ll go our separate ways.”
“you can’t do this.”
suddenly, everything is much more serious than sakusa had expected, or noticed until then. he’s crying too, sobbing, shaking as he watches you pull onto the door knob despite his hold on one of your arms. he’s crying as he screams, begging for you to stay. because he gets it now, and yes, it’s late, and you’re already drenched in the clouds he brought, but he can’t leave without you, he just can’t.
he watches you run to the end of the corridor, disappearing, maybe forever, maybe not for so long. but suddenly sakusa realizes he’s alone.
sakusa suddenly realizes how important his family truly was.
! first post of 2022, had this saved for some time, i didn’t feel like posting it, but i read it again today and thought it was really nice, and i wanted to share it too. !
loving osamu was complicated.
he was a sturdy, sometimes mindless guy, despite the calm look on his face and blank eyes. thinking back at it, you still don’t know what exactly hauled you to fall for such a guy; he wasn’t your type at all.
nonetheless, there you were, planted in front of the entrance to the gym and where the inarizaki volleyball team was currently practicing. you’d never been the shy kind, accustomed to speaking your heart out, but when osamu eyed you from his height, and suddenly, for the first time, you took in his presence closer than where you’d normally see him in the hallways, you felt yourself shrinking.
“what is it?”
he used to tell you that was the first time he’d ever seen you - you don’t believe him. otherwise, how would've he known what your intentions were that evening as the sun was setting? while your body was shivering because of the breeze and osamu started to lose a little of his patience because he was in the middle of practice and his twin and captain were going to lecture him for wasting time.
despite your poor effort of confessing your feelings for the wing spiker, he was able to pick on it quickly - which only fueled your suspicions that he did actually know you before that day.
osamu turned out to be a little tougher than what you'd imagined. fighting was quite common for the both of you, you were too foolish and osamu too vigorous.
osamu didn’t necessarily live an amazing life, and with that blank stare he always had, you were aware that many things ran through his mind everytime the two of you went out on a date - which was never common, osamu too busy and you slowly realizing how draining being by osamu’s side was.
osamu expected things from you that, in your little experience with dating (zero), you didn’t think was fair. he expected you to soothe his back, put up with his arguments, sometimes abrupt thoughts and continue to come back every time he told you he didn’t want to talk to you. maybe the two of you were too young to understand, maybe it was your fault, or maybe it was osamu’s fault, still, one day you decided you didn’t deserve to be treated that way, and as expected, you walked away.
you can’t really say, at this point of your life you can’t remember. that day of graduation, and the last day you’d see osamu at school, instead of telling him how much you loved him, how much you would miss him, you realized osamu wasn’t the kind of guy you wished he was, and you weren’t the kind of person he was expecting you to be.
osamu was a year older than you, and after suddenly announcing to atsumu his decision of quitting volleyball, abruptly the picture you had of osamu in your head started to crumble, if there was anything left before. it was stupid, you can admit that now - it’s not that the idea of your boyfriend not continuing to play his favorite sport hurt you, but it hurt because you realized osamu would stop being the person you knew and loved, or that you were still hoping to love. as you spoke your heart out, and subconsciously hoped osamu would ask for another opportunity you were more than willing to give, he only nodded his head, and agreed to finish things. that day you realized you never were on the same level as osamu. you realized things were over long ago.
you never heard, or saw him again after that.
that is, of course, until today.
you had a bad feeling, of course you did. one of your college friends had a boyfriend in tokyo. you weren’t curious, that was her personal life and after being single since that breakup, the idea of love didn’t exactly resonate with you. that’s why, when she asked you, begged you to come to tokyo with her, you were hesitant. the city was big, and you didn’t feel like third-wheeling on a couple that’d be seeing each other after so long. still your friend managed to convince you.
of course, she hadn’t told you all the details.
“professional player?”
“yeah,“ she hums, a huge smile on her face. “this is a really important match for him, i mean, the olympics isn’t anything, i had to come watch him.”
you’re uneasy, only nodding to what your friend tells you. in that exact moment you’re unable to remember. volleyball wasn’t your thing, never was, and after the breakup, the sport simply disappeared from your head. still, there was something calling out for you, but you weren’t oblivious to it, unable to drag it out from the bottom of your mind.
you never believed in fate. osamu, for anybody’s surprise, did. he begged you to never tell anyone after he poured his heart out to you, talking about how much he believed every person was destined to another, linked by a thread. you never mocked him, nor believed him. fate simply didn’t make sense to you. because if fate were real, the two of you would be together, right?
it clicks the moment you see it, too late to back out.
atsumu wraps his arms around your friend and spins her in a circle, face full of joy as the both of them embrace each other in such a loving manner your heart almost cracks, the familiar face bringing way too many familiar memories.
“this is a surprise, isn’t it?”
you jolt.
you’re quick to take a glance around, thinking of any possible path you could quickly take to disappear. like a child, you refuse to see it. you refuse to believe you were naive enough to come into a volleyball field thinking that you wouldn’t meet the last person you hoped you’d meet.
but there is nowhere to go, nowhere for you to run off and hopefully forget about everything. there he is, a smile on his face, black hair and black shirt along blue eyes, in front of you. it’s so abrupt you’re unable to react, staring at his face for way longer than what you’d wished to.
“i didn’t know—”
“your friend was dating atsumu? me neither,” osamu lies, speaking a little too fast, he thinks.
osamu did know, actually, atsumu had told him once over text, when his girlfriend posted a picture with you on her instagram story, which atsumu quickly screenshotted and sent to osamu in the middle of the night. osamu since then, would sneak in your friend’s account to catch an update about you, hopefully.
was he still holding onto you? he couldn’t tell. it’s been quite long, and, even though he was at fault, your decision still hurt him. like you, osamu thought, if you were in love, why’d you break up instead of fixing things?
it took him a few years to realize you weren’t the one to blame. you were young, and so was he, both of you with heads full of ideas, dreams, hopes, wishes. osamu had decided his future, and you didn’t see yourself in it, and instead of trying to tell you there was space for you, and hope for you to enter his life, he let you think you were part of a present he no longer wished to live. the both of you were young, and love wasn’t strong enough to prevent the two of you from falling apart.
osamu’s shoulders tense when your face changes, the surprise no longer in your eyes, instead, a look of hurt and hatred - towards him.
“c’mon, you don’t wanna ruin your friend’s day, do you?” osamu chirps in. “traveled all the way here to cheer on her boyfriend, that’d be awful of you.”
“i’m going to the bathroom,” you call out to your friend, passing by osamu’s figure.
he’s quick to circle your wrist with his hand, “i’m gonna go too, atsumu you show your girlfriend the seat and i’ll show y/n the seats after we come back.”
“no, stay here,” you half whisper half yell, glaring at osamu.
he knows, he can tell how angry you are right now, but on one part, he genuinely doesn’t want to ruin atsumu’s night right before a match, and the chance he got to see his girlfriend after so long (he’d been talking about it for months), and also, osamu wished to have a word with you. just a little chat would be enough.
“don’t be silly, this place is huge and you can get lost,” osamu simply responds, dragging you to the restrooms.
it’s silent and you don’t dare to say a word. it’s not like you have anything to say to him, what were you supposed to say, that you hoped he was okay? having fun with whatever path he chose? that you were happy for him despite the situation? as childish as it seemed, you couldn’t lie to him like that. you simply did not care.
osamu doesn’t say anything, suddenly too nervous of your actions. he wasn’t expecting you to react like that, with such little affection towards him, and quickly osamu felt a little lost. he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. it’s not like the two of you would see each other again and feel the butterflies you once felt fly inside your stomach. you were hurt and osamu had changed. was there a possibility to get the two of you back together?
you come out of the restroom after what feels like fifteen minutes, and walk past osamu’s figure leaning against the wall right outside the girls’ restroom.
“hey!”
“listen, osamu, let’s not do this,” you sigh, a hand pressing your forehead as you look around, searching for the way back to the seats your friend most likely was seated in already.
“do what? i’m trying to be nice—”
“well don’t do it!” you exclaim. “we’re not friends.”
osamu doesn’t say anything, simply walking by your side, which genuinely surprises you. osamu hated when you’d say things like that, dismissing his words or contrasting his ideas, he hated when you went to the other side in conversations. but he’s not upset, nor angry, he simply stays quiet, thinking of what to say. you frown.
“we don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to.”
you don’t respond, deciding to ignore whatever he’s trying to say.
the both of you are quick to find your way back to the benches. your friend waves her hands for you to approach her, a compassionate look. it’s not like she knew osamu and you knew each other, but she could tell something was wrong, and she was regretting forcing you to accompany her there.
you smile at her, but she knows you’re not pleased at all. you pat her back and the both of you sit again. osamu takes a seat too, after you hurry (almost run) towards your seats, having enough of his presence. but he doesn’t seem to take a hint, and decides to sit right next to you.
“excuse—”
you grab your friend’s wrist, as she’s ready to woo osamu away from you. you shake your head and half roll your eyes, assuring her. she only nods, and distracted by her too excited boyfriend a few seats down there, she smiles and waves back at him.
the place starts to get a little crowded, excited fans ready to see their favorite team win. there are cameras everywhere, and people running from left to right.
you feel a little uneasy. even while in high school, you didn’t enjoy going to osamu’s matches. big crowds made you nervous, especially when it came to sport events. inarizaki was quite intense when it came to cheering, and took every play to heart. as for you; you could barely keep up with the ball. and while you attended every single game, you dreaded the situation more and more. you’d always have to force yourself to go to osamu’s match, despite trying to constantly confess to osamu how much you hated the atmosphere. you tried once, and after you told osamu you didn’t think you could go watch another of his games, he got so angry, he didn’t talk to you for a month. maybe that was the start of the end for the two of you, who knows.
osamu eyes you from the side. you’re restless, he can tell. you keep bouncing your legs, and searching for the source of any loud sound that reaches your ears. the lights move a little, and people seem to grow more and more frantic, expecting for the game and its outcome. as for you, you wish the game was over as soon as possible. more people take their seats around the three of you, and you seem to jolt at every sudden encouraging word that comes from behind or in front of you. osamu takes a look at the people behind you, and then places (quietly) an arm over your seat, in hopes nobody would touch you accidentally.
but you see it, and misunderstand it.
“don’t play games, osamu,” you whisper, so your friend doesn’t notice the two of you.
“i’m not playing any games,” osamu whispers back, shifting, nervous of your accusation. “i know how you get when it comes to these places.”
you want to roll your eyes, you really do. but instead, something falls from your throat to your stomach, and you wrap your arms around yourself. it’s like time didn’t pass for him, you think.
it almost makes you believe osamu did care about you.
you don’t entertain the thought any further, and to your luck, the game started shortly after the little situation.
atsumu shines as bright as ever, a he always did in every stadium he’s had the opportunity to stand on.
so did osamu, once.
each player enters the area, and after the presentation of every team, the game is quick to start. again, you can barely keep up with the ball and every play, and it gets even harder when people seem to cheer and lament with every move. you decide it’s better if you follow one player at a time, and decide to follow atsumu for a while. it doesn’t take long for you to start searching for another player, and another, suddenly finding the sport a little more entertaining than what you remembered. every play has you gripping tightly the edge of your seat, to the point you sometimes jump a little at every point made, or almost made. you get lost in the game, forgetting about the chaos around you, and the presence of the black haired guy next to you.
he barely can keep track with the game. he would be lying if he said he was just stealing one or two glances your way, just to make sure you were okay. at first, he did only look at you to make sure you were alright, but as the game progressed, and you seemed to get more and more lost in it, osamu often found himself completely lost in you. your expressions, the light in your eyes, the little marks on your forehead everytime you didn’t understand why a point wasn’t given or lost, and the relaxed expression you’d wear whenever they did get the point. he wondered then, what he’d done wrong all along.
osamu wished you would’ve gotten this excited over his matches and plays. he wished you were this delighted by his volleyball, by his team and by his time spent on the court.
osamu can’t help it, entertaining the thought of what if. what if you were still together, what if he had noticed your feelings, what if he had asked you to stay. what if and what if not.
but he knew those questions held no meaning now, because, the answers he would’ve hoped to hear, now would be the complete opposite. you didn’t want him in your life anymore, and osamu knew it would be selfish to beg you to accept him again, to give another opportunity.
because, who could promise the two of you it would work out this time? how could osamu blatantly lie to your face and tell you everything would be alright now, if he himself wasn’t sure he could make it up to you even the slightest.
but gosh, he wants to hold you like he’s never wanted to before. osamu wants to embrace you like he should’ve done that day you decided to say goodbye. keep you in his arms where you belonged, where he thought you were supposed to stay.
the two of you are immersed in different passages. the game comes to an end, and despite the long rally and tired face of atsumu and his teammates, japan manages to secure their place once again. you jump, and so does your friend, clapping and celebrating the victory reached that day. and osamu is still reminiscing, as he watches the excitement you exceed. his arms are open, and you’re a little out of it, jumping to wrap your arms around osamu to celebrate.
osamu and you embrace each other, the two of you for different reasons.
osamu holds you tight, finally.
and you hold him drunk on a feeling you had never experienced before.
but once you try to pull away, and osamu grabs your sides a little more tighter, you realize it. you realize the both of you, once again, are in different moments. once again, you’re not on the same page.
you pull away, tense. you’re upset, but the roaring of the crowd and exciting flapping of your friends quickly makes you forget the situation, as you run behind her to try and approach her boyfriend.
osamu calls out to you as you disappear from his sight, extremely shaken up.
he gets it now, he knows what he has to do now.
he’s not letting you go again.
but it’s not easy to reach your side again.
and it’s harder than he’s ever thought it was.
when he was a teen, he thought he had given up enough for you. he thought whatever he was doing was enough for you. he failed to realize you never asked for much. you just asked for his genuine love and affection, and he failed you every single time.
maybe the two of you were too young, too naive, too foolish. maybe it was his fault after all, maybe he was in the wrong all along.
maybe he just had to work a little harder.
but god was he willing to do it. was osamu willing to have you back.
he reaches you after what seems to be endless, useless running. you’re right outside the lockers, where he supposes you were waiting for your friend to come out. he smiled to himself, knowing his brother and the possible love the both of them felt, that it wouldn’t be soon.
you see him, instantly turning around.
osamu doesn’t speak, sneaking to a place right next to you, leaning against the wall you’re against too. his eyes search for yours once, but you don’t respond, and he chuckles.
“it’s fine, we don’t have to be friends,” osamu finally speaks, barely a whisper, only you and him can heart. “after all, i don’t think i wanna be your friend.”
summary: emma seems to have one or two cards under her sleeve.
cw: none.
wordcount: 2k!
shinichiro sighs, frustrated.
“c’mon emma,” shinichiro whines, shaking the plushie in front of her face. “it’s cute!”
the girl shakes her head, eyes closed, refusing to take the toy offered by him, “i want the pink one!”
shinichiro knows he can’t give up, but oh how much he wants to right now.
it’s getting late, and despite taking emma to every possible fun spot he knew, the girl didn’t seem to enjoy it in the least. he didn’t know what to do anymore, and surely, he did not like to see her sad. ignoring him, emma walks off over to look at the other plushies in the clay machine shinichiro had gotten the blue one for her.
shinichiro sighed, leaning against the wall as he watched emma’s face pressed against the small windows of the machine. other kids and their parents come to the machine, some get their toys, others go empty handed.
she seems drowsier than ever, shinichiro believes. she’s been quiet for a while, and although she’s gotten closer to her brother, she still seems to doze off every once in a while.
today is one of those days, where her mind is full of thoughts she can’t communicate, and shinichiro can’t guess.
lighting up a cigarette, shinichiro closes his eyes. he decides that once he’s done with his cigarette, he’s heading back home for the day. hopefully, emma would forget about it tomorrow.
“thank you so much!”
shinichiro jolts, turning his head to the left. emma is jumping, her back facing him as someone towers over her. shinichiro throws his cigarette to the floor and approaches the little girl at rapid speed.
“hey—”
“look, look, isn’t it pretty!”
you stand from the floor, grinning. emma continues to hug her new toy, and shinichiro seems quite confused.
“emma—”
“don’t mind it,” you assure him once he realizes. “i’m sure she’ll cherish it.”
shinichiro clears his throat.
he’s confused, but for some reason, emma seems to be head over heels over you. she grabs your hand and continues to tell you all about what she’s been up to. shinichiro watches, uneasy, because, emma isn’t this talkative he’s pretty sure? she’s quite a shy girl, especially with strangers. why is she so hung up on you?
you laugh when you notice shinichiro’s troubled face, and so seems to do emma. the girl rolls her eyes, “shinichiro is an idiot, please forgive him.”
“it’s fine, i wasn’t expecting him to remember me,” you assure, laughing again.
shinichiro frowns. you surely don’t seem familiar, at all.
“y/n’s sister and i used to play when we were seven, shinichiro,” emma says, still looking at you.
“i look a little different now don’t i?” you say, and emma shakes her head.
“i think you look even prettier!”
you pat the girl’s head, and then, shinichiro finally connects the dots.
you sure have changed, he thinks.
you’re two or three years younger than him, he’s sure, sixteen when you would bring your little sister to the same park shinichiro would take his siblings. emma and your sister would sit in the grass for hours playing together, and, a few steps away, sitting under a tree, you’d spend your afternoons studying while taking care of your sister. shinichiro remembers now.
“oh,” he speaks, but emma interrupts him.
“let’s go together, y/n!” you laugh as emma tries to pull your arm and guide you away from shinichiro. “let’s leave him behind.”
“emma,” shinichiro sighs.
“it’s fine, i mean, if it’s fine with you, i could look after her for a while,” you speak, as emma continues to try to pull you away.
“i’m not busy,” shinichiro says.
“oh,” you say, embarrassed. “emma, i think—”
“i can accompany you two, if that doesn’t bother you,” he speaks, quickly.
“i have no problem with that,” you nod, smiling.
emma sighs, rolling her eyes. “hurry! the games are about to close down!”
shinichiro watches from afar as emma takes you to all the games he was trying to get her in. she’s smiling brightly as she shows you all around the amusement park, suddenly feeling happy to be there. shinichiro lights up another cigarette as he tries to keep some distance between you two, without losing her out of sight.
he’s not jealous or upset, but he does wonder what exactly you do for emma to get happy like that. although emma isn’t a little girl anymore, he finds it hard to understand her. maybe is because she’s becoming a teen soon, maybe because he doesn’t really understand what she genuinely likes, or doesn’t really have interest in those things. still, he wished he could make her smile as bright as you seemed to do.
he can’t help but stare at you sometimes.
you sure have grown, he thinks.
he remembers the time your little sister went to beg him to allow emma to go play at her place. as for you, you only stood behind your sister, looking everywhere but his way. he can’t blame you, after all, at that time he surely wasn’t that interesting to look at, and the bandaids all over his face didn’t help his fame. you didn’t seem interesting in him, at all.
but emma knew something he didn’t.
“there’s a guy i like,” emma blurts out as the two of you sit in front of a ferris wheel.
your eyes widen, smiling, “yeah? do i know him?”
emma shakes her head, looking down at her vanilla ice cream, “he’s really nice, but i don’t think he likes me too.”
she pouts, and you wonder if that’s what’s gotten her down.
“why do you think that?”
“because,” emma sighs. “he doesn’t pay much attention to me, it’s like he’s always busy, i can’t seem to find a moment to talk with him.”
“it doesn’t sound like he doesn’t like you to me,” you say.
“if he liked me, wouldn’t he try to find time for me?”
“not necessarily,” you mention. “i mean, what do you know? maybe the moments he shares with you are precious enough for him. have you told him you like him?”
emma shakes her head.
“then, what do you know he likes you back but he isn’t sure if you do?” emma looks up at you. “boys can get shy too, you know.”
“he’s not a shy kind of boy,” emma mentions.
you raise your shoulders, looking at emma.
shinichiro approaches the two of you, picking up the conversation the two of you share.
“boys get shy when they like someone,” you laugh. “i mean, don’t you get shy too? i get shy around a boy i like.”
“that’s why you never told shinichiro?”
you started coughing, and so does shinichiro, taken aback.
the two of you jump at this, watching shinichiro approach you.
“hey, it’s getting late,” shinichiro says, looking up at the sky and wishing you two don’t suspect anything.
he realizes he might’ve been listening to something he wasn’t supposed to.
“i don’t wanna leave yet,” emma pouts, hugging your arm. “don’t go!”
“emma, it is getting late, and i’m sure you have school tomorrow.”
shinichiro extends his hand for emma to take it, but she ignores it, pouting, “can you at least walk me home?”
you shake your head, giving up. emma always got what she wanted.
and she sure had a card under her sleeve.
the three of you walk in silence. emma in the middle holding your hand, and shinichiro on her other side, trying to hold hers.
emma doesn’t like it when shinichiro treats her like a kid, but she likes to feel like a kid around you, shinichiro notices.
emma seems worn out, and simply continues to walk in silence, enjoying the breeze and the sound of cars in the street. the dojo isn’t far away, and your house isn’t either, so, you accompany her to her place, as she wished. although, if you would’ve known it would be this awkward, you would’ve tried to come up with an excuse.
emma seems to enjoy, not only the silence, but the fact she got her way, leaving shinichiro and you completely oblivious.
you finally reach their place, and emma hugs you goodbye, running inside the house where a blonde kid appears, looking quite annoyed.
shinichiro clears his throat. he doesn’t say anything, nor does he walk inside his house.
“thank you, for today,” shinichiro begins. “emma seems to be in a good mood now.”
“she just needed someone to talk to, don’t worry,” you laugh. “it’s just girl things.”
shinichiro nods, smiling too.
it’s dark, you notice. and it’s getting cold, too.
but you’re not sure if shinichiro is waiting for you to leave or say something first.
so, you decide to speak.
“well, it was nice seeing you again, shinichiro,” you speak.
“same! i mean,” shinichiro laughs. “it was nice seeing you too.”
you’re shaking, and emma’s words resonate inside your head.
yeah, you had a huge crush on shinichiro when you were a kid too. shinichiro was eighteen, part of a gang, and liked other girls, sometimes even older than him. you weren’t his type, at all, you knew that. shinichiro liked women, mature, free, flirty. as for you, you were probably another kid.
you didn’t like to spend your afternoons in the park, but, since you knew out of three times emma was there, at least twice you could see shinichiro, you decided to give it a chance. yeah, you never told him your feelings, but seeing him was enough.
that’s until emma was grown enough to go by her own, and shinichiro disappeared.
until now.
he’s different now, and, although you thought you had gotten over him, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach turning. his hair was down now, not with that sometimes silly hairstyle with too much gel he liked to wear. he was taller, and his voice and manners had changed too. wearing simple clothes and that gold chain on his neck, shinichiro looked like a man.
a man you sure had feelings for.
you were a woman too, now. after high school you knew you had changed. you dressed differently, with pretty clothes matching the seasons and your style, and your hair styled sometimes, others, down. you didn’t have your nose on books anymore, and you surely weren’t a kid anymore.
but you couldn’t blame shinichiro, you could understand. after all, loving shinichiro in silence was enough for you.
you decided, though, that probably today was the day.
“you heard what emma said, didn’t you?”
shinichiro’s eyes widen.
“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to—”
“don’t worry,” you sigh, smiling. “i used to like you a lot back then.”
shinichiro stays quiet, but you don’t continue.
you believe that’s enough, nodding your head.
“i should head home,” you say, taking a step back.
“i like you too,” shinichiro blurts out, you laugh as shinichiro finds it hard to choose the right words. “i mean, i think you’re beautiful and—”
you take a chance then, and, taking a step forward and jumping to your tiptoes, you hold shinichiro’s face in your palm, and place a kiss on his lips.
is fast, shy, and surely, kid-like. you can’t help it, shinichiro seems to make you nervous, more than what you hoped he did by now.
shinichiro, though, decides to take a chance too, and wrapping an arm around your waist, he pushes your body forward, pressing his lips to yours, again. this time, it isn’t shy, this time, shinichiro takes his time.
you close your eyes as you try to catch your breath. shinichiro presses his lips to your forehead, and the two of you fall in silence.
“are you free tomorrow?”
you laugh, nodding your head as shinichiro presses another kiss on your lips.
“emma, what are you doing?”
emma shushes her brother, grabbing him by the arm to watch from her hideout. the girl has been watching the scene all along, making sure her plan went exactly how she’d wanted it too. although, it had gone even better.
mikey frowns as he watches his brother kiss you again, “it’s like that movie you made us watch all over again.”
