[1:00 AM]—with the ghost of you
—pairing: bokuto kotaro x gender neutral! reader; genre: ANGST, established relationship au!; wc: 1.0k+ ; warnings: mentions of death
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Bokuto Kotaro felt like he was in hell.
You had been ignoring him for three days. Three!! He didn’t know what he did wrong, or what you were so mad about. All he knew was that not talking to you was torture.
He needed to see your smile, to hear your affectionate laughter. The past three days you were nothing but stoic, silent. A ghost of your former self. It pained him, because he genuinely did not understand what was going on. He wanted to fix it. To make everything right.
“Babe?” He tries calling you dejectedly, as you move around the kitchen. You were making your morning coffee, still ignoring him like usual. The silence was heavy. It stung. It felt like you were rejecting him. Like you didn’t love him anymore. Heck, you weren’t even using your favorite mug– the owl shaped mug he made for you on your first pottery date, all ragged around the edges. You always used that owl mug. To see you using a plain one, usually reserved for guests, felt terrible. Like you were throwing him away.
“Please talk to me.” His days always start like this. Trying to get you to talk, but to no avail. It seemed you were finally leaving the house today. The past two days you had been cooped up in your room, body buried underneath the warm comforter. He was so worried. Wanting nothing more than to hold you close. But you needed space, and he could respect that.
Clad in all black, you put on your cardigan, leaning down to tie your shoes, cursing when you tied them a bit loose. Bokuto wanted to help. He always did. But he doesn’t know if he can when it feels like your anger radiates off you in waves. He watched solemnly as you walked out the door, following right behind you.
He didn’t feel like doing anything much when the two of you weren’t okay. He’ll just watch you from afar. See how you’re doing. Give you your space.
You walked 15 minutes down the street to your favorite bakery. Every Tuesday, your local baker would whip up a new batch of homemade blueberry muffins. He would always buy you some on the way back from his morning jog. But you had bought them alone this time, not even bothering to make small chatter with the kind hearted man who ran the bakery. He looked at you wearily. Like he too could see the weariness on your frame.
“You take care, sweetheart,” the man calls as you grab your order, immediately walking away. Another pang to his heart. If it were any other day you would have stayed and asked the man how he was doing. But seeing you, face blank, eyes void of life crushed him. Just what did he do, and how could he fix it?
He sees you make your way to a nearby flowershop. He watches as you pick out a bouquet of lilies. His favorite. Only because it was yours too. White and pink. Soft, sweet, innocent. It makes him smile. The flowers felt like a symbol of you, your relationship that he cherished. Bright, full of life.
But still, that solemn frown hasn’t left your lips.
He continues following after you. Walking past all the spots you two would frequently visit. The bookstore you would always beg him to go to a couple blocks away, the convenience store you would frequent for late night ramen runs, the park you would take midnight walks on, smiling under the stars.
It almost feels like Bokuto was going down memory lane. Like he was walking though his life with you, remembering all the memories you shared. Like that one time you were so desperate for a specific brand of ramen, that you cried when the merchant told you it just got sold out. Or the time, after he won a volleyball match, the two of you had an evening picnic under the stars. Bokuto loved basking in the silence with you, holding you close, making you feel his love. But this was beginning to get a bit much.
Especially once you make a detour and enter a place Bokuto would never expect you to go to.
The cemetery.
Even with the bright rays of the sun, there was an ominous gloom that enveloped the area. Death, grief, pain, and sadness circled around. Memories of people who had lived a life to the fullest only to die haunted the air.
“(Y/N)?” Bokuto calls, nervously. He didn’t like visiting the cemetery. It made him sad. Too sad. Did someone close to you die? How come you never told him? Who is it? Did he know the person you were about to visit?
Yet, something churned within him. An unexplainable feeling. Something he couldn’t put into words. It was like he already knew who you were visiting.
You, as usual, said nothing, making your way down rows and rows of graves. Each step heavier than the last. You make a sharp right, and Bokuto follows shakily. And when you stop and set the bouquet you bought over the grave, kneeling in front of it… Bokuto feels his heart drop.
Oh, he thinks to himself. No wonder.
There, on the grave, was his name. Engraved in bold letters.
Here lies
Bokuto Kotaro
A loving son, friend, and lover.
The brightest star in the universe.
You weren’t ignoring him on purpose, he realizes. You weren’t mad at him because he hurt you, or he made you feel like you weren’t enough. You were sad. In pain. Grieving. You couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t see him. Couldn’t feel how much he longed and yearned for you.
You couldn’t feel how desperate he was to hold you in his arms.
Because your fiance, Bokuto Kotaro, was dead. And no matter how much you cried, how much you begged to the heavens to bring him back to life, he would never come back.
hope you all enjoy this splash of angst!
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