OMG hi baby i just saw the prompts u asked us to send u and maybe,, 27 with tsukki but if you want make it angst??? tho if you'd prefer to write fluff i understand (^^) thank u angel!
a/n: ahaha hiiii so umm I’m kinda back maybe possibly?? I’m honestly not 100 percent sure bc school is beating my [redacted] but uh I wrote this! i’m a little out of practice so I’m not sure if it’s any good but nonetheless I hope u like it!! ^^
warnings: angstangstangst omg this one hurt me writing it lolol, also there’s a fem!reader for this one I hope that’s okay!
⊱ ────── {⋅. ♡ .⋅} ────── ⊰
Maybe it was he who had let go first. Maybe it was he who had gotten too comfortable, complacent, stopped being a lover and started being a burden.
But those are uncertainties, speculation, and he needs fact, something solid and true to bring him back to reality. And the truth he chokes on like bitter medicine is that you were the one who had called it quits, not him. You were the one that gripped his heart over the line and tore it out with the words I can’t do this anymore, Kei.
Your back is the one he saw drawing further and further along the road you two used to take together and seeing is believing, after all. Your contact is the one he’s staring at, your smiling face staring back. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it, he doesn’t know why he’s doing much of anything, really, when you’re not there to be with him. To give him sharp, warning looks whenever his jokes go a bit too far and to hold his hand when he can’t be as cold and detached as he tries to be.
You had seen all those soft, raw parts of him, had wrapped yourself around them like armor and now that you’re gone he feels cold and exposed. He hates it- he hates you for making him feel so vulnerable, so weak.
Maybe that’s why he’s still staring at your contact. Even though it’s been three months since you broke up he still hasn’t changed it yet, my one and only y/n is still your contact name (you had changed it, from the simple y/n it had been before). It’s ridiculous, but still not nearly as ridiculous as his thumb hitting the call button.
“Hello?” Is your groggy response, your voice still thick with sleep.
Right, it’s nearly four in the morning. Time seems to slip past him these days.
He doesn’t say anything- he doesn’t know what to say, a foreign feeling that leaves him floundering a bit.
“...Kei? Is that you?” Your voice is softer now, soft in the way only you can be when his name falls from your lips.
“Are you alright? Did you need something?”
“I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror.”
It’s stupid, such a stupid thing to say in the current situation but he can’t seem to feel the slightest bit embarrassed, he can’t seem to feel much of anything without you to remind him how.
“Kei. You can’t keep doing this.” You breathe out, and your voice isn’t as soft now - it’s impatient. “This is the third time this week.”
“I know.” He chokes through gritted teeth, and he does know. He knows a lot of things, really, but just because he knows doesn’t mean he wants to accept it.
“I-I’m with someone else, Kei, and I really like him.” Your voice is gentle, careful, but no amount of care could make plunging a knife through someone’s chest feel like a pinch, a bit of pressure until it‘s over. “This has to stop.”
“Who?” It’s the only question that comes to mind, the only thing he can think to ask, and he almost laughs at himself, at the pathetic, pining mess you’ve reduced him to. He’s never at a loss for words, there’s never not a witty remark perched at the edge of his tongue, but there isn’t now. Even as he wracks his brain for something to say that’ll save the few shreds of dignity he has left, he comes up empty.
“Kei, do you really want to know that?” You’re just trying to save him any further heartache, but he hates the patronizing tone of your voice, like you’re talking to a child crying over spilled milk.
“I asked, didn’t I? So clearly, yes I want to know.” He snaps, anger flaring in his belly. You only sigh on the other end of the line, hardly registering the harshness of his tone.
“Fine, since you’re so dying to know.” You hiss, and there’s a shuffling noise on the other end of the phone before another voice, deep and equally thick with sleep, rumbles in Tsukishima’s ear. “Hello?”
He feels like he’s suffocating, like the air was ripped from his lungs in his shock, because he knows that voice. He knows a lot of things, after all, and he knows that that voice belongs to none other than Kageyama Tobio, the boy you had told him not to worry about.
We’re just friends, Kei. You had reassured him after he caught a glimpse of the numerous texts you had been exchanging with the setter. There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.
I promise. He does laugh now, a bitter, nasty thing that burns in his throat like bile. “Of fucking course it’s you. I should’ve known.” He spits into the receiver.
“Tsukishima?” Is all Kageyama says in response, sounding confused. “Why are you calling my girlfriend at 3 in the morning?”
Unable to take a second more, Tsukishima quickly hangs up, launching his phone across the room. He tucks his knees to his chest in an attempt to stop his chest from heaving, but it’s not working, and hot, salty tears spill from his eyes despite his desperate attempts to keep himself together.
He’s not sure how long he stays like that - a sobbing wreck, but eventually his breathing calms and his cheeks dry and a heavy feeling of resignation settles in his chest where there was only pain and rage before.
He knows what he has to do. He knows a lot of things after all, and now he knows that it’s time to move on.
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