You love Atsumu so much. Your big, strong, and funny Tsumu, with a chipped tooth from when he fell down a slide when he was 8, with hands so warm that you wouldn’t feel whole without them on your hips, with shoulders so large and muscular that you feel a strain in your back hauling him through the street.
“Angel, babyyy,” he sings, giggling at the way your steps are wobbly, “am I that heavy?” He pouts, his warm breath tickling your neck, the sour smell of whiskey reminding you of just how drunk he is. You’re just glad you didn’t wear heels, it would make it that much harder to keep yourself from slipping on the icy sidewalks. You would be freezing cold tonight if it weren’t such a workout trying to haul your very very intoxicated boyfriend back home.
You have one of his arms slung around your shoulder to keep him from falling into the road, your other arm hugging tightly onto his waist to keep him standing straight.
“I love bein’ close ta ya like this.” He peppers messy kisses to your cheek; you would be more appreciative of his display of affection if you weren’t nearly out of breath. “Yer so goddamn gorgeous, I need ta tell ya that more.” He nuzzles into your side even more. “I love ya so much!”
“I love you too Tsumu,” you huff out. “But please, you gotta help me out here,” you whine.
“So pretty yer makin’ me blush.”
“You drank too much.”
“Only cause I was so nervous talkin’ ta such a stunner.” His shameless flirting doesn’t suffer at all when he’s under the influence. He just can’t help but let every single one of his precious thoughts slip out when he looks at you. You were so beautiful it made his eyes water just thinking about how you were his. He looks at you, sweaty and panting under a very light snowfall, and he feels himself fall in love all over again. You’re already his, but he has the sudden compulsion to win you again.
When the weight of his body is lifted, you take your first proper breath of air of the hour. You look up in confusion as you see him stumbling into one of the tiny storefronts that line the street.
“Atsumu?” You question, standing still to let yourself catch your breath. He looks back with a goofy smile and bright eyes before disappearing into the shop.
You look up at the street sign and it’s a small import department store. You walk to the window and see china tea sets lining the front displays and just behind them is an entire wall covered ceiling to floor in different baseball caps. Incense, cutlery, umbrellas, children’s books, chess sets, massage chairs… you can’t possibly imagine what Atsumu needs so you’re about to follow him into the store before he stumbles out again, holding something in his closed fist. There’s a wide child-like grin as he wobbles to stand in front of you and takes your face in his free palm. You can’t help but laugh at how odd his behaviour is.
“You ready to go home now, silly?” You brush your fingers gently through his platinum hair. Before you have time to turn around and drag him behind you, he’s lowering himself. Atsumu doesn’t have the balance in his current state to rest on just one knee, so he opts for sitting on both of them. Instead of wide glittery eyes, he’s met with an unamused expression. Nevertheless, he takes your delicate hand and reveals the simple silver ring he hid in his palm.
“I never even knew I could love someone this much.” His words are slurred as he speaks. “I’m so happy that yer mine. Yer the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. I promise ta make ya happy, I’ll give ya anythin you’ve ever wanted.” His puppy eyes start to water as they look up at you. “Can we make eachother happy forever?”
“Will you get off the ground, your knees are getting wet,” you scold.
“Tell me you’ll be mine forever.”
“I’ll tell you when you’re sober enough to actually remember it, now let’s go home.” You try to lift him to his feet but he’s stubborn.
“I know it isn’t the prettiest ring and you deserve something that’s just as gorgeous as you. I spent so long pickin’ the perfect one for ya but in the end I just couldn’t fuckin’ wait. I needed to ask ya here ‘n now if you’ll marry me.” His words take a long second to register. Your heart thumping violently in your chest. Was he already planning on proposing?
“I don’t care about the ring, silly.”
“I know, I know, I know ya don’t. But still I wanted to buy a diamond big enough that everyone could see how much I loved ya, and I did! It’s in my dresser at home and I was gonna give it ta ya next month but I was gettin too impatient and I just wanted ta tell ya already how in love with ya I am. I’m so fuckin’ in love with ya, I can’t believe yer real sometimes. I need ya ta know I can’t think of a life without ya, Y/N.”
“Atsumu…”
“Marry me. Let’s grow old together.”
“Tsumu,” you cup his cheek in your frigid palm and with a sweet smile, you shed a soft tear. “You’re so fucking drunk,” you laugh. “I love you so much, I want to marry you.”
Atsumu leaps up from his spot on the ground and throws his arms around you, nearly making you collapse under the sudden weight. You can’t help but notice the skin of your neck starting to dampen with Atsumu’s tears. Everything feels so hopeful and the gravity of his promise is just starting to sink in. He’s going to be yours, and you’re going to be his.
“You really couldn’t wait,” you giggle. Atsumu shakes his head.
He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you.
a/n: ahhhh i haven’t posted here in so long. It’s getting cold and dark and here’s how I cope
SUNA
Sitting at one of the empty tables of the library, your notes in disarray. It takes you by surprise when a soft hand places itself on your left shoulder, another hand sliding around to gently hold your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. Rintarou tilts your head back until your eyes make contact with him. He smiles sweetly, bending over to press a chaste kiss to your forehead and rubbing his fingers over your lips. “Do you think you could take a quick break for me?”
KUROO
You see your boyfriend walking towards you with a relaxed smile on his face. He holds out his hand and you place yours into his grip, thinking he’ll pull you in for a hug. But to your surprise, he keeps you an arms-length away and brings your knuckles to his soft lips, bowing slightly so that he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. You feel his smile against your fingers. He knows it makes you feel special; and with how you look today, it’s what you deserve.
HINATA
You tiredly wait for the coffee to slowly drizzle out of the machine and fill your cup. It’s one of those odd winter mornings where it’s still dark out when you wake up. You feel cold until strong hands slide around your waist and a familiar body presses against you. Shoyo’s hands find your shoulders and glide down your arms to cup around the outsides of your hands. He pulls your arms above your head and twirls you around to face him, moving his palms to rest on the kitchen counter on either side of you. “Good morning,” he breathes out into your neck and peppers tickling kisses all the way up to your lips.
ATSUMU
Atsumu sees you bundled up in your large winter jacket and knitwear and he can’t help but swoon; it’s too easy to get to him. When he greets you, he cups your soft cheeks and wipes his thumbs over your cold skin. He’ll admire how beautiful you are as his hands wander to hold onto your earlobes, burning red in the cold air. He’ll whisper a compliment and ask if you can decipher it while his hands cover and warm your ears. “Ma angel gets prettier every day”
genre: enemies/lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort (in that order)
Lesson #1: We don’t always choose who we love
You don’t always choose who to love, because you certainly would have never chosen him. Arrogant, immature, irresponsible, insufferable. You reject someone that’s never been told ‘no’ and you’ll find them trailing after you like a puppy begging for attention. Miya Atsumu has never been told no, so when you walk off while he’s trying to flirt with you in between lectures he’s shocked. Suddenly you start to see him everywhere. He takes out the last copy of the textbook you need for this unit. He throws an obnoxiously loud party on a Thursday on the floor right above you. Suddenly your friends are his friends, your classes are his classes, and his obnoxious shit-eating grin is staring at you every single lecture. Giving in to his charms and feather-light touches would be to give in to a child’s tantrum. Yet you find yourself in a quiet nook in the library, a warm breeze fanning against your cheek as Atsumu cages you against the bookcase and despite the heated argument over your group project you can’t help but wish he’d close those measly few centimeters between you. “Yer face is so red you look like yer sunburnt,” he snickers. Yeah, you definitely didn’t choose to love this man.
Lesson #2: Love doesn’t care about your “type”
Love has a funny way of sneaking up on people, at catching them when they least expect it. You could picture your ideal boy, hold the image in your head as you fell asleep, think of his hazy face in the place of every romance novel protagonist and no matter how much you obsess over your “type”, you’ll never be bound to it. Because those little things that your friend does that you find unattractive or turn-offs suddenly have you blushing. That small crack in his otherwise smooth voice when he speaks up has you oddly captured in what he’s about to say. Kenma is quite the opposite of your “type” and yet he holds your attention better than anyone you’ve ever liked. You’ll find yourself staring into a pair of eyes and realize they’re completely different from what you had imagined. Love is one of those things that blooms overtime, you can’t exactly look at someone and force yourself to love them instantly. Love slowly entangles its arms around you and before you can even realize you’ve fallen in love you’re already too comfortable in the heat of its embrace. Sitting on your couch, you’re desperately trying to find what it is that’s making you feel so off. You slept well, you’re in comfy clothes, you went out yesterday, you’ve eaten your favourite food and yet, why do you feel as though something is missing. When you finally figure it out, you look at him the next day and you wonder how you ever pictured yourself with anyone else. He has become your type. That is because love is malleable, it’s indiscriminate, it’s impulsive. Love looks like him.
Lesson #3: To love means to let go sometimes
It starts when coming home to Keiji starts to feel like a chore. It’s when you dread the bus ride home because you know he’s there and you still haven’t resolved your conflict from this morning. How every attempt at a date night turns awkward and the car ride home is stifling, the two of you having to hold back tears as you try to decipher when it was you stopped having fun together. There are only so many mistakes, so many arguments you can forget with a lazy gift or make-up sex. But 8 goddamn years in love. Despite your misery, you just fear that if you break up now, does that mean the past 8 years of both your lives have been wasted? The answer is no, you didn’t waste your time. He’s made you feel loved. He’s made you a better person. He was there for you even as you grew and changed as a person. There’s no waste in that. The best form of gratitude you can give him is to take the maturity he’s helped you with, and use it to move onto the next phase of your life. He and you both have better and brighter futures. It’s time to accept that Akaashi is a vital part of your life, just not this part of your life.
Lesson #4: You can love someone, that doesn’t mean you need them
You love him and that’s why you had a hard time accepting that he just loved his career more than he loved you. You would spend days lying in bed or at your desk, eyes flickering over to your phone every 10 minutes to check if Kageyama had texted back, re-reading your own messages to see if they sounded clingy or passive aggressive, having him be the topic of every drunk conversation, every catch-up with friends, every therapy appointment. Only for him to text hours into the night apologizing, saying he had been at practice and press conferences all day long, that he was exhausted and just wanted to pass out. He seemed to go weeks at a time without a proper conversation and you could only be understanding to a certain point. When you finally decide to confront him, you get your answer. He’s going to Italy. “Please understand that I love you. I love you so much.” He apologizes profusely, crying into the crook of your neck as he breaks the news. You love him and he loves you, with all his heart, but he doesn’t need you like he needs volleyball. You bring him happiness but his passions bring him purpose. Love isn’t about need, it’s all about want. So when the next summer olympics rolls around and he’s at your front door (praying that you hadn’t changed addresses) with a bouquet and a cheesy grin, it’s because he wants to be there
a/n: my birthday was a month ago and watching haikyuu got me through the birthday blues, so naturally I wanted to write something about it. It’s okay to be sad on your birthday, it’s a natural reaction to time passing and our own expectations for ourselves and our lives. And sharing these feelings with someone who’s comfortable and who you trust can help you feel better (it did for me) <3
ATSUMU
Atsumu Facetimed you that morning wishing you a happy birthday and hyped you up as you got ready to spend the day with your friends. The demands of being a professional athlete was the reason why Atsumu was in a completely different country. But you didn’t know that Atsumu had already booked a flight home for that evening, otherwise you wouldn’t be sloppy drunk and crying in your kitchen at the hour your boyfriend was scheduled to arrive home. Atsumu’s playful, mischievous smile quickly dissolves when he sees your teary eyes and red nose. He immediately drops his bags and rushes to kneel in front of you, cupping your swollen cheeks in his hands. “Wh-why’re ya cryin’ ma pretty baby?” He’s so shocked to see you sad that he feels himself start to tear up already. “Tsumu! I’m getting so old! My life’s moving too quickly!” You sob and Atsumu nearly whimpers at your cries. He quickly rests you against his chest and lets you weep into the fabric of his sweater, his hand caressing the back of your head. He doesn’t know what else to do other than press furious kisses to your face and the top of your head. “Don’t say that. Ya still got a life’s worth of cuddles from me. I’ll be right here for all o’ it. We’ll grow old together ma angel.”
SUNA
When Suna came over to your apartment with a cake and booze to celebrate, he was expecting a long fun night of karaoke, stupid gossip, and stealing street signs. What he didn’t expect was for you to start sobbing into the toilet bowl midway through the night, him gently rubbing your back and holding loose strands of hair out of your face. You feel bad that he bought such a nice cake only for you to be vomiting it out a mere 2 hours later, but Suna only caresses the hunch of your back with a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry about that, stupid.” He’s never been one to comfort with words, but when you finally slouch against the wall, exhausted, he carries you to bed and brings you a cup of water to rehydrate. And you feel loved. “Rin?” You whisper, your head tucked into his chest and his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your neck. “Mm?” “Can we spend tomorrow in bed?” “Of course, pretty baby.”
KUROO
You had spent the whole day with your boyfriend, so he didn’t at all mind letting you go out drinking with your friends for the last few hours of your birthday. He hears you stumble through the front door in the early hours of the morning and he stands up from the couch. “How was it kitten, did you have f-” he stops mid-sentence when he sees you teary eyed and babbling nonsense under your breath. “Tetsu, I don’t wanna get older. I haven’t even done anything with my life yet,” you cry, running into his arms. Kuroo lays you down on the couch, brushing your tears away with his thumb, and listens to you rant about your fears, all the while softly brushing his thumb over your cheek. “It’s okay to feel sad, kitten. Let it all out, I’m listening. Drink some water, you deserve it.” When you’re exhausted from crying and from talking, Kuroo runs you a warm bath. He knows that at this point, you’re finished talking about your feelings and you just want to think about something else now. So he talks about this wild biography he’s been reading, recounting the plot with comedic commentary. He feels slightly at ease when you tiredly giggle at his jokes.
TSUKISHIMA
Tsukishima was studying late at the campus library. Yawning, he picks up his phone to check the time only to find the flurry of drunk voicemails you had left him. Rushing out of the library with his bag half zipped and his jacket thrown over his shoulder, he runs as fast as he can across campus to your dorm room to find you sitting on your bed with your old yearbooks spread out on your sheets. “Tsukki, look!” You pick up your middle school yearbook. “I’m so young in these photos. I still had braces! What the fuck happened?” Tsukishima looks around your room to see empty liquor bottles and his face goes from concerned to unamused. Dropping his bag and closing the door behind him, he takes the book from you and sets it on the floor. Your now empty hands go to reach around your boyfriend’s waist. “I don’t wanna be a grown up, I miss middle school,” you slur out, your face warm and your breath smelling heavily of alcohol. “You told me you hated middle school.” “I did.” You pout, and Tsukishima tugs you into his chest, still heaving slightly from running all the way here. You talk about your pre-teen years and how much you want to forget them and relive them at the same time. “I probably look stupid right now. My nose is all snotty.” “Yeah, you do look stupid.” And you bite his arm in retaliation. You talk and reminisce about all that you miss about being a kid and Tsukishima sparingly opens his mouth to make fun of you, always followed by a tight squeeze around your waist and a kiss to your forehead. He wants to show you that even as you grow older, and even when you’re drunk and balling your eyes out, he’s still Tsukishima. He’ll always be the same. Even as you grow old, Tsukishima and his love (if nothing else) will always remain a constant
You stand by the mirror as he rifles through his drawers for a nice one he thinks you’ll like. He walks towards you slinging it over your neck to suddenly pull you in close. He hushes your giggles with a soft kiss. When he’s finished he’ll pull you in by your tie once again for a more passionate one. He considers it his thank you gift.
ATSUMU
His chest presses against your back as you both face the full length mirror. His hands gently guide yours as you loop one end of the tie over the other. He’ll really take any excuse to be close to you. When you’re done, he’ll wrap his arms around your chest and press a tickling kiss to the side of your neck.
AKAASHI
He tries his best to keep his eyes on the necktie. He wants to be respectful. It’s an innocent request afterall: “Akaashi, do you know how to tie a tie?” Yet you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker up to your lips occasionally. You think maybe the wine you drank had stained, so you gently suck your bottom lip , which of course only makes Akaashi breathe shallower. It’s only when the tips of his ears grow visibly red that you start to catch on.
SUNA
He stands closer to you than he needs to be; you can feel every word he whispers as a warm brush against your lips. There will be moments where he isn’t even looking at your necktie, instead his eyes are keenly fixed on yours. You’re so distracted by his hands that you don’t even listen to his instructions, and he can tell. So when he’s finished, he’ll slowly pull on the knot and let the tie slowly undo itself. His famous shit eating grin staring down at you as he hands you the necktie, “Now you try.”
summary: Suna is desperate to keep your memory alive, to hear your voice one last time. Following the months after your death, Suna invests in a developing AI program that’ll let him do just that. (Inspired by S2E1 of Black Mirror)
warnings: major character death, angst, swearing
wc: 4.6k
a/n: The national team makes a brief appearance
“What am I doing?” Suna whispers to himself. The harsh blue glow of his computer screen cut through his pitch black room, his reddened eyes glued to the website in front of him. It was nearing 2am and Suna had practice in the early morning and he hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest in over a month. He could feel his mind fogging with every passing day, his muscles growing sorer, but he just couldn’t bring himself to sleep.
Simply sinking under his comforter was like trapping himself in your memory, reminding Suna of everything you were to him. A strand of your hair still laid on your pillow, and at night Suna liked to roll it in between his fingertips, remembering how your soft hands combed through his hair while he lay his head on your chest, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. Day by day, he watched the subtle indent on your side of the bed level out, the ghost of your presence fading away from his reach. At night his phone stayed glued to his hands, scrolling through all of the videos he had recorded of you, all the selfies you had taken with his phone, he had swiped up to the very beginnings of your text conversations on every single platform; he could recite his favourites by heart. He listened to the songs you sent him incessantly. He fell asleep to your voice messages, letting him know about your day and how much you appreciated him.
But when Suna closed his eyes it got so much worse. In his dreams he could feel you, he could hear the sounds of your breathing, your sweet giggles and soft voice, the smell of your shampoo that had long faded from the clothes that still hung in his closet. You were so much realer in his dreams, it was the closest he could be to you ever since. And when the sun rose, and his alarm rang, he was shaken from his paradise, surrendering to that familiar feeling of yearning he felt every morning. He thinks that those moments are the worst. Worse than rewatching that video he took of your sleeping form tightly wrapped in his embrace, a blanket lazily strung over your two bodies, your cheek puffing out against his chest. All of these mementos he had kept of you played through his mind constantly, he needed to feel that you were still there, and he both loved and hated how much of you he had kept on his phone.
But right now at 2AM, sitting on his bed, his hands shakily hovering over his keyboard, he doesn’t regret it one bit. The upload bar is almost complete and soon every photo, every video, every digital memory that Suna had kept of you was going to be uploaded. Frustrated with himself, Suna throws the laptop off of his lap, standing up from the bed to pace around his dark room. Wiping the tears from his cheeks and nervously ruffling his hair he wonders to himself why you couldn’t leave him alone.
Suna had tried to fight the temptation when he was first offered. He knew in his head that letting your memory go, and letting himself move on was what was best. But when he watched those videos every night, hearing your sweet voice, your vicious laughter, it was never enough, he needed more. To keep you alive he needed more.
When the small alert rings in the silent room indicating the uploading was completed, Suna rushes to his bed, practically tripping over his carpet to watch as the screen displays ‘CONTACTING NOW…’
It wasn’t too late, Suna could press the small cancel button underneath, this program hadn’t cost him too much. He could go to sleep right now, start anew, begin to build his life again, begin to accept that you were dead, and you would never come back.
But Suna didn’t get a chance because a harsh ringtone cuts through his thoughts. His head whips to where his phone lays in his hand, your name flashing across his screen. He doesn’t know what to make of his emotions as he rushedly presses ‘accept’, gripping the phone to his ear, heart beating a mile a minute.
“Hello?” Your voice rings through his ears, making another tear fall from his bloodshot eye. Suna silently pulls his free hand to his mouth, covering up the shaky sobs that were involuntarily spilling out. “Rintarou?” You ask softly. You sound just like them, it was surreal, knowing you were dead yet hearing you call his name softly, like you had always done.
“Y-you,” he stutters out, failing to keep his voice steady, “you sound just like them.” The soft chuckle from the other end makes his lip quiver.
“I know, spooky right?” Another soft laugh leaving you. Suna couldn’t believe this. He lets out restrained wails, letting his tears drip onto the bed sheets, gripping his legs to his chest. “Hey, what’s wrong,” you coo, your voice trilling with concern.
“I never got to tell you h-how,” Suna sniffles, “how pretty your smile is. I wanted to t-tell you how much I loved your laugh.” A short silence follows his confession.
“You’re telling me right now.” Suna smiles to himself, gripping the phone with both hands, imagining your beautiful smile on the other end.
“You’re right,” Suna wipes his glossy eyes on the sleeves of his sweater, “you’re here now.”
“I’m here now. Don’t cry, I’m here now.”
Suna knew he shouldn’t, he scolds himself for being too greedy. This wasn’t real, you weren’t real. But he just missed your voice so much. What was so wrong with listening to you murmur to him through the speaker, letting him know how your day was, talking as if nothing had ever changed; you spoke to him in your low sleepy voice about your university classes and the movies you had recently watched, you spoke of how much you missed him, and how excited you were to be in his arms once again. Was it really so selfish of him to miss you? You were the one who had left him to face the consequences of your death, alone. You were the one to dig a hole in his life only to abandon it. Was he the selfish one? Was it so selfish of him to indulge in the fantasy that you were still alive, and that you still loved him?
“Shit I’m so late,” Suna mutters under his breath. He had decided to walk to the gym since he wanted to spend more time with you.
“You should’ve just drove,” your voice echos out of his earbuds, “I could’ve called you after practice.”
“Don’t you have class soon?”
“Fuck!” You scream, he could hear you getting up from bed, papers scrambling in the background. “You’re so right, thanks for reminding me. Oh shit, I forgot to do the reading.” You are notoriously forgetful, something you complain about consistently on your private twitter account.
“Go do your work, I’ll call you after,” Suna chuckles, hanging up the call as he enters the gym, spotting his teammates already stretching.
“Rin!” Atsumu calls, gesturing for him to hurry over. Suna quickly dropps his bag, jogging over to where his teammates stood waiting for him. “Yer late.”
“Sorry, I decided to walk today,” Suna answers with a small smile, grabbing his knee to stretch out his leg.
“Yeah? I guess the weather’s nice today,” Bokuto gestures to where he entered.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” he smiles, surprising his teammates. They were aware of your recent death and had witnessed their teammate and friend mourning your loss, for the last month in fact. Suna had rejected all of their support, responding coldly to any sort of emotional comfort or consolation they had to offer. They had noticed how tired he had gotten, how lethargic, how apathetic. So seeing him in not only a better mood, but an objectively good one was a shock they happily welcomed.
“Rin,” Atsumu jogs up to Suna during their laps, “how’re ya feelin’?”
“I’m good ‘Tsumu,” he replies. Atsumu could tell that Suna’s eyes were more awake, his lips weren’t curled down into a frown, and even though there were heavy bags under his eyes it was like he radiated vitality. Suna had stayed up all night talking to you, filling you in on all the things you had missed in the last month, asking you if you remembered all the little moments he had stored in his mind, telling you how much he wanted to lift your delicate hand to his lips to give each fingertip a soft kiss. It was Suna who had forgotten what it felt like to be alive, and it was only until you came back to him that he remembered how much avidity he was capable of, how infatuated he could become with his own future.
Watching Suna smile during practice, cracking dry sarcastic remarks at his teammates’ mistakes, hearing him yell for the ball, it all made his teammates believe that he had started the next phase of grieving, that he was finally starting to learn to live without you. It felt like Suna was present, and even Sakusa offered a few words of praise, just to reinforce the pleasant mood Suna was in. When Suna had offered to stay behind a couple extra minutes to practice, Atsumu couldn’t help but wrap an arm around his friend, pulling in from a short but tight hug, letting him know how much he appreciated him.
“Is someone’s phone ringing?” Aran asks, everyone pausing to listen to the faint ringtone.
“That might be mine,” Atsumu huffs, jogging over to where the bags lay strewn across the sidelines. Digging through the jackets and sweaty towels to find the phone that just wouldn’t shut up, Atsumu finally digs into Suna’s gym bag, pulling out the phone to see that you were calling him.
“Rin?” He looks over his shoulder to see Suna jogging over to grab his phone, but before he could snatch it away, Atsumu pulls it out from his reach, extending a hand to keep his friend away.
“What’re you doing,” Suna asks in a lighthearted tone, reaching for his phone again.
“Why the fuck is Y/N callin’ ya?” Atsumu asks with horror in his eyes. He had been to your funeral. They all had. They had watched Suna walk out of the crematorium with teary eyes, hugging the cold black urn that held your ashes. They had watched him sprinkle you into the slow-running river by your childhood home, the one that cut through the meadow behind the rotting wooden fence, the meadow which you had buried your family dog when you were 13. You were very much dead.
“What’s going on?” Hinata asks, the rest of the teammates following after growing curious at seeing the tense faces of Atsumu and Suna.
“Can I have my phone?” Suna reaches out his hand for Atsumu to place the ringing phone in. Atsumu doesn’t hand it back, instead pressing accept and putting your voice on speaker.
“Yo, pick up faster next time,” your voice makes everyone’s mouth drop. “Hello, you there?” You ask after being met with a long silence.
“Is that Y/N?” Bokuto lets out, eyes wide glancing at the phone the Atsumu held in his hand.
“Bok-” Atsumu immediately hangs up, pointing the phone at Suna who stands still. He doesn’t understand what feeling was rushing over him. Shame? Guilt?
“Who the fuck was that?” Atsumu gestures with his eyes to the phone.
“Y/N-”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, okay? Y/N is dead so who the fuck was that?”
“Atsumu,” Hinata warns, he doesn’t want Suna’s mood to fall again.
“Don’t interrupt me Shoyo, Suna, what the hell is goin’ on?” Before Suna can even open his mouth to give an answer his phone starts ringing, your name flashing across the screen once again. Atsumu’s eyes met Suna’s for a brief second before Suna tackles him to the ground. Atsumu tightly grips onto the vibrating cell phone as he tries to kick his friend off of him. Suna is prying Atsumu’s fingers off of the screen, desperately wanting to press ‘accept’ just so he could hear your voice and tell you that he was okay.
“Fuck off Miya, give me my phone!” Suna bellows out.
“Yer fucking crazy! The hell’s going on?” The team soon surrounded the two, trying to pull the two off of each other. Kageyama and Bokuto eventually get Suna off of Atsumu, dragging him away from the setter who scrambles to his feet, looking over to where Suna’s fuming with rage, restrained by his teammates.
“What’s wrong with you guys!” Suna’s anger is overflowing, tears running down his cheeks as his voice cracks with rage. “Just give me my phone!” He cries out, desperation and anxiety brimming in his words.
Aran takes the phone from Miya, glancing down at your name on the screen, then looking over to Suna who struggles, hiccuping from his sobs.
“Is this what I think it is?” Aran holds up the phone. Suna stays silent, finally falling limp in his teammates’ arms.
“Ya know what it is?” Atsumu asks in disbelief.
“It’s a computer program,” Aran feels the phone go silent in his hand, “that pretends to be dead loved ones from videos and social media.” Suna’s head drops, his teammates let go of his arms and let him sink to his knees. He cups his face with his hands, lightly sobbing into them. “Suna, you know this isn’t real.”
“Of course I do!” Suna screams. He wasn’t a fucking idiot, he knew you were dead. So now he couldn’t mourn the way he wanted to? Couldn’t give in to the sense of loss for even just a day? What did any of them know about grief? You weren’t real... he knew that. But you felt just as vivid to him as you used to. Suna realizes he let himself get a little too carried away, a little too lost in the illusion.
“Alright, give him his phone back,” Bokuto mutters.
“Are ya serious? Yer just gonna let ‘im keep doin this? This isn’t fuckin’ healthy!” Atsumu points at Suna, who cups his hands over his ears, trying to block out all of the screaming. He would rather drown in the dark solace of his bedroom, alone with nothing but your faded memory, than be in this gym right now, his teammates looking down at him in pity. Please, can everyone just be quiet? Suna just wants to lie in bed again with you tucked into his chest, he just needed to hear your voice again.
“The entire point of the thing is it’s supposed to help ya get better,” Aran interjects, walking over to Suna.
“Does he look like he’s gettin’ better?” Aran ignores Tsumu’s yelling, kneeling down to rub Suna on the back, placing the phone by his feet.
All Suna can do is shakily stand up, tearful eyes blurring his vision as he fumbles around for his phone, clutching it to his chest, and drown out the sounds of his teammates arguing. He just wants all this noise to stop. The only thing that got him to walk out of the gym was knowing that he could fall asleep to the sound of your voice when he got home. He can only stifle his tears as he imagines your soft voice soothing him, telling him how proud you were and how you would always be there.
“Tsumu just let him be,” Hinata blocks Miya’s path from running up to Suna. He looks at his teammates in disbelief, scoffing at how they let Suna walk out, dialing your number.
It’s been 3 days. Suna hasn’t left his apartment, he’s barely gotten up from his bed, occasionally slinking off to the bathroom or grabbing a cup of water from the kitchen. His curtains are drawn, his comforter lays over his shoulders, the only thing Suna can hear is your sweet voice.
“Have you eaten yet?” Suna doesn’t answer but he’s sure that you could figure it out from his silence. “Rin, you should have something, just something small.”
“I’m not hungry.” Lies. You wanna know the real reason Suna couldn’t eat? It was because the pantry was still stacked with your favourite foods, and in the fridge was a rotting box of takeout you had brought home a while ago, insisting you were going to finish it another time. Every day for the past month, every time he opened the pantry door he was reminded that you were no longer there. When he glanced upon your old food he was reminded that the voice he listened to wasn’t you, and your physical presence would never return to him.
The only thing he had left of you was this automated voice who was nothing beyond a couple of lines of code. Seeing the physical remnants of you reminded Suna that this voice wasn’t his lover, it was just a parasite.
“You know what you should eat? There’s that fried chicken place on the opposite corner of my university, I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“We’ve been there already.”
“Really?” Suna’s heart folds momentarily at the thought of you not retaining one of his favourite memories with you. “Maybe it was a while ago?” Lie. It was only 2 months ago. Suna remembers that you dragged him there to celebrate passing your midterm, forcing him to put his phone away so he could pay attention to you. A tear falls from Suna’s eye, remembering how he leaned over to lick the corner of your mouth covered in wing sauce, feeling you push his chest away in embarrassment. He loved that no matter how many times he kissed you, each time he pulled back he felt light on his feet, dizzy and content.
“I just want to give you a hug.” Suna whimpers out, missing the feeling of your body pressed against his.
“I do too.”
“When can you come over?” It’s a stupid question to ask of course, given that you’re dead, and the machine he’s talking to didn’t even have a physical body. But Suna can’t help himself, can’t help but believe that your body is still breathing and your eyes were looking for him.
“Suna,” he knows the answer already, but for some reason he wants to hear you say it, to admit that you aren’t real, “I don’t know. I don’t think anytime soon. I’m sorry baby.”
“You always made time for me.” Suna feels his tears pool at his temples, running over the bump of his nose and soaking the cold pillow. “I just want to be with you.”
“You’re talking to me right now. I’m right here Suna.” You aren’t listening to him, why couldn’t you understand what he was saying? Suna slips his hands into his hair, pulling roughly at the root of his strands. Frustrated mewls slip through gritted teeth. “Rin?” Suna contains himself just long enough to end the call before hurling his phone at the wall, hearing the screen shatter. He lets out a wail from deep in his stomach, hearing the echo vibrate in his eardrum.
Was this it? Was this all he had of you? Suna lets himself shrink to the floor of his room, cradling himself in his own arms. Why was he being so selfish? He had gotten you back, that’s all he wanted, why couldn’t he be happy hearing your voice?
“Please Y/N,” drool stifles his cries, pooling at the bottom of his chin, “please Y/N help me. Come back,” he moans. Hugging his knees to his chest, burying his nose into his legs, Suna squeezes his eyes shut, imagining your touch, your soothing reassurance. “Come back,” the taunting silence of the room is dispiriting, as if the world had nothing to offer as consolation; the world remains silent and unmoved by Suna’s bellowing grief.
Suna lays his jacket on the ground, making sure not to get his pants wet as he sits down on the dewy grass. He enjoys the subtle white noise that engulfed him, of the tall grass whistling in the wind and the leaves of the trees ruffling against each other. A dove coos in the background, and Suna’s reminded of the same bird that sung in the early mornings of summertime when the two of you were young. Back in your highschool days where he’d lazily drape his arm around you, shoving his face into the crook of your neck, refusing to get off you despite your whining. There was always a thick humidity coating his room in the mornings, he would feel the heat and exhaustion in your languid and playful kisses. Your hair would be warm from the glare of the morning sun and Suna liked to press his face into it, feeling safe in the smell of your shampoo.
The sun’s out today, but it’s slightly colder, a mild breeze tousling Suna’s hair. The air’s so fresh it’s almost dizzying for Suna, who had spent more than an unhealthy amount of time holed up in his apartment.
The back of Suna’s t-shirt sticks to his skin and the light afternoon breeze chills his sweaty back. Sighing to himself, he finally lifts his phone to his ear, the cracked screen tickling his cheek.
“Hey Rin,” your voice cuts through the meditative silence. There was something so nostalgic and recluse about Suna’s location that your voice with its slight automated quality disrupted.
“Hey.”
“I was actually just about to call you, my professor told me the craziest shit ever-” Suna didn’t feel like cutting you off. He thought he might as well let you ramble before he moved on to what he called you for. “Rin?”
“Mm?”
“Where are you?” Suna pauses.
“Take a guess,” he could hear your faint chuckle. Gripping the blades of grass under his hand, curling his fingers into a fist, nails raking into the dirt; it took all his efforts not to melt all over again; he was so close.
You could tell the sounds were different from his bedroom; there’s a faint white noise that idn’t the hum of his air conditioning.
“I think I hear birds.”
“You’d be correct,” Suna smiles, watching as a flock of nightjars make their way over his head. “It’s somewhere you’ve been.” Somewhere we’ve been. Suna can’t count how long it’s been since he’s come here with you. One time he brought a picnic blanket and a box of baked goods he had made the night before, and although they were slightly burnt and sour for some reason you enjoyed the way he fed you, cupping your cheek to tell you how beautiful you were. The two of you lay on your backs, hands loosely intertwined watching the thick clouds slowly pass, carving out shapes, although his were almost always unnecessarily vulgar.
“Hmm, is that water?”
“Indeed it is.” A couple meters from Suna’s feet is the ice cold water of a river, crystal clear, moss lightly decorating the rocks lining the border. Suna can practically feel the bite of the cold water on his feet. Balancing on your tiptoes trying not to wet the hem of your jeans. Suna was scared you were going to slip or maybe even cut your foot on something but you insisted he could just carry you on your way back home. Squatting in the river, you leaned down to cup the water in your hands, splashing it into your face. Suna hopped across logs and rocks, trying to escape from your wet and freezing cold hands and lips, cupping his cheeks and planting rough kisses through giggles.
This place has so many memories. This is where the two of you had talked about getting married. Suna never thought he would tie the knot so young, thinking there was never going to be a person he’d see himself coupled with for the rest of his life. Yet there you were, your hands massaging his scalp, toying with his brown locks, Suna’s head resting on your chest with his arms wrapped around you. And he just couldn’t help himself. ‘Do you wanna get married’ he had asked you, because honestly, he truly believed he was the happiest he ever was and ever could be.
“I’m in the meadow, behind your house.”
“Did you rinse Max’s grave?”
Suna chuckles, nodding his head, “I rinsed Max’s grave.” Looking around, he can see that the late afternoon sun was starting to dip below the trees, its flare disrupted by the thicket of branches. “I realized we never decided on an answer.” He takes your momentary silence as confusion. “When I asked you if you wanted to get married, you never had the chance to get back to me.” Suna knows you’re caught off guard, because you promised to keep your potential engagement a secret until you were sure.
“Do you still want to marry me?”
“I would love to,” Suna pauses, gripping the grass with all his strength to muster up the next few words, “but you aren’t you. What I never appreciated about Y/N was that they were always surprising me, that’s why I could never grow tired of them.” Clutching his phone, Suna thinks of every memory he had saved on it. “And that’s why you’ll never be enough.” He feels a stream of tears drip to his chin. The meadow looks different from when he had come to sprinkle your ashes, unlike that day, the sun was out, its warm glare reflecting off the surface of the stream, he could actually hear the sounds of nature around him instead of being shrouded in deafening wind. When the sun had died, the world had kept moving, and it was time for Suna to do the same.
Suna isn’t sure if he’d ever find someone who made him as happy as you did. To think he was so ready to shape his entire life around you, that even after your death you still had him wrapped around your finger. No one could live up to you, not even if it tried. Hearing your voice was never going to be enough for Suna.
He can’t stand the idea of your lasting presence in his life being whatever this shallow mimicry of your perfection was.
Suna would rather have all of you or none of you.
“I understand.” Suna lets himself stand up, feeling the breeze hit the back of his legs. Without even ending the call, Suna tosses the phone, watching the water splash around where it lands, seeing the screen glitch, the phone flowing along the water out of sight.
Suna takes in the view from where he stands, his eyes raking over the rolling hills with moving grass.
‘Do you wanna get married’ he had asked you, because he truly couldn’t picture wanting anyone in his life more. You looked at him, cupping his cheek, brushing a brown lock out of his face.
‘Of course. I’ll be with you no matter what,’ pressing a gentle kiss to his nose.
As long as Suna was alive, his heart beating and his chest rising, with every strike of his sole against the ground, he would remember you, and you would always be there with him.
a/n: i tried writing for some new characters this time :D
IWAIZUMI
Iwaizumi’s shorts are slightly damp from the sand he sits on, but he just can’t bring himself to stand up and interrupt his moment of silent admiration. You had planned a small beach date for today and you felt stupid not to have checked the forecast beforehand; the entire morning and early afternoon was thunderstorms and you were stuck inside, only being able to drag him out in the early hours of the evening. But secretly, Iwaizumi likes it better this way. The entire sky is a muted purple and the evening light is a perfect backdrop to the person he loves more than the sun itself. His fingers are curled up in the sand and a small smile finds its way on his face as he watches you toss stones along the surface of the lake. You pump your fists in the air with a large grin as you successfully skip a rock 6 times along the water and Iwaizumi’s toes curl slightly. You’re so gorgeous. Iwaizumi has never been big on photos but he lets you take them because he sees how happy it makes you. And he’s never been one to take photos for himself but this moment is special. You’re special. He snaps a quick picture and gently blushes when you nearly catch him. He wants to remember this forever.
AKAASHI
Akaashi knows he should be paying attention to his work, he, just like you, has an essay due in only a few hours. But he just can’t help but let himself get distracted by the person sitting right across from him in the quiet library. He likes that this place is quiet because there’s nothing to distract him from his silent adoration. No matter how much he sees you he can never get enough. You had texted him earlier today asking if he wanted to work with you in the library as you both crammed to get your assignment done on time. And how could he say no? He was fully aware this was what happened each time he studied with you, but you were just so addicting that even your presence was enough to make him abandon common sense. Your lips are slightly wet from the coffee you have set beside you and when Akaashi realizes he’s staring at your mouth he cringes. Creep, take a picture, it’ll last longer. He looks up for another brief glance at you. Your concentrated face is just so hot. He curses to himself as he snaps a quick picture with his phone, praying to whatever god exists that you don’t notice.
HINATA
Hinata has always procrastinated on getting his drivers license. Immediately after graduating, he only lived in big cities with all he needed a short bike ride away, so a car was never a big necessity. But as soon as he decided to finally get his license, he came to your apartment wide-eyed and out of breath. “Let’s go on a road-trip!” He had exclaimed when you answered the door. That’s why the two of you sat in the front seats of his brand new car, driving down a road surrounded by beautiful mountains, mountains so big it makes you feel like you’re in your own little world where it’s just the two of you. You’re both aggressively screaming along with the song playing on the sound system. Every window is rolled down and the sunroof popped open, your hand peeking out to brace the harsh wind. There’s a brief second that you stop singing with him and Hinata turns to you confused and is terrified to see you’re unbuckling your seatbelt. He calls out your name but he’s completely ignored as you stand up in your seat and clutch the roof of the car, pulling yourself up and out of the sunroof. The view is so beautiful and the wind is so loud you don’t even hear Hinata yelling at you for how dangerous that is. He pulls over to the side gently, scared you might fly out of the car if he breaks too fast. Despite his attempts to get you to sit back down, you only look forward with a wide smile. “Look Shoyo, it’s beautiful.” Looking up at you, Hinata’s glad he brought you along on this impromptu trip. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this happy. From the angle he’s looking up at you, the sunroof perfectly frames your upper body and the mountains in the background tower above you. While you admire the view, Hinata pulls out one of the disposable cameras he bought for the trip and takes a careful picture of you. He can’t wait to show you it once it develops.
KUROO
Kuroo had woken up to a long chain of panicked text messages from you, all sent in the earliest hours of the morning. You were anxious about finishing a book report for a book you hadn’t even read and he was thoroughly amused to see you show up to class exhausted, jaded, and loosely clutching the report in your hand. You seem so off balance Kuroo thinks he could blow a kiss your way and you’d tip over. All day he helps you take notes when you’re obviously too exhausted to pay attention, he brings you lunch when you don’t wanna walk down to the cafeteria, he always raises his hand so the teacher isn’t forced to call on you, and he quietly teases you when no one’s looking. You’ve never fallen asleep in class, I’m a good student, you chant as you keep yourself from closing your eyes, but the cool wooden surface of your desk is starting to feel like the perfect pillow to rest your heavy head. You think to yourself, ‘just a couple of seconds, I’ll close my eyes for just a couple of seconds’ and when Kuroo turns around to see you fast asleep on your desk, your cheek squished against the cold surface, a fine trickle of drool slipping bast your bottom lip, he has to keep himself from laughing. He’s never seen you like this. He covertly takes out his cellphone from his bag and snaps a quick picture of you before poking your cheek softly to wake you up before the teacher sees.
ATSUMU
You and Atsumu were going to cook a big fancy meal for tonight. There really was no occasion but Atsumu didn’t need a reason to make you feel special. One of the dishes was a western-style seafood pasta dish so you two had walked over to the fish tank at the supermarket. You’ve never cooked a live lobster before, but Atsumu assures you that he’s seen Samu do it before, so naturally that makes him an expert. You’re awkwardly clutching one of the live lobsters in the pair of metal tongs trying to lift it out of the tank and into the bag you’re holding. It’s squirming and splashing in the water so much it wets your sweater, and of course Atsumu is no help at all, losing all his breath laughing at your desperate efforts. He swears up and down that when he pulled out his phone, he had meant to take an embarrassing photo of you, one that he’d hold over your head whenever he felt like a tease, one he’d threaten to show your mutual friends whenever they came over, but instead he got this. After dinner, while he’s cuddling with you on the couch, he opens the photo to realize it isn’t embarrassing at all. You’re breathtaking. There’s a wide toothy grin on your face, you’re mid laugh, your eyes are squeezed shut as more water gets splashed onto you, and you’re absolutely adorable. Atsumu huffs as he turns to you. Why did you have to be so perfect? He bites down on the fat of your cheek, ignoring your lighthearted shrieks for him to stop biting you, before setting the photo as his lockscreen with a smile.
