#i really do be dragging yall behind on my whims

[tennessoui]

i don’t know if anyone has mentioned this yet but having poll options for your fic is giving choose your own adventure book and i’m loving it!!

(most recent live poll)

a few askers have requested that in the end i make it an actual choose your own adventure, where i write all the options for every poll, and maybe some day i'll do that but right now it's more of a 'vote what you want to happen next and maybe do a lil propaganda/campaigning with your mutuals if you REALLY want your vote to win' sort of deal

[hexisqueer]

insignificant

a/n: two posts in a week??? damn im whack anyway- the pov switches everytime there’s a cut, hope yall can recognize it,, telling me if you like the style i rly liked writing it (._.) also this is after the timeskip so aha word count: 1.6 K (wow look at me go) pairing: atsumu x reader genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

The smooth, laminated floors were littered with confetti, plastic knife lying limp in your hands. Your friends were long gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts, alone on your birthday, alone even when you had reminded him last week. But maybe you were just that insignificant, just that easy to forget. You carefully pick up each piece of cake, packing it safely in a box for later, distracting yourself to keep from break into pieces. Was it that difficult to keep track of things, when you had to focus on the team, organize all the meetings and practices?

'He always has enough time for all his fangirls', the first bitter thought flooded your mind. The first of many that plagued your mind that day, that week, when he returned only late at nights, falling into bed without so much as a glance at you. The first of the string of wonderings that eventually widened the proverbial gap between the two of you so much that crossing it back would have required too much out of either of you. The first train that led your thoughts so far away from the reality of it that you overthought every gesture, every word, every kiss, questioning if he meant them for you or there was another, he wanted to reserve them for.

And there was. Another. Not at first, but the more disinterested he got, the more skeptic you got, the worse the miscommunication got. And there she was, so willing to satisfy him, take care of him that the image of you flew right out his mind, replaced by her, her tiny giggles and impossibly large eyes. And he was only human, desperation was tempting him and he took the bait, indulging himself for the night, two nights, three nights, a week, a month.

But every time he returned, he would notice the soft look in your once shining orbs, he knew you still loved him, still waited for the day he would make time for you, but didn't have the heart to tell you... that day was long gone, and unnoticed you went, like snow in the Arctic, that lay a fine layer of white over the land, beautiful, necessary, but insignificant.

He knew, that he would have to tell you, face the broken look in your eyes, the slight downturn of your lips, not yelling, because you couldn't be mad, not when your heart beat for him, every step of the way.

You were always there for him, the side-lines of his matches, cheering for him, only him, louder than the rest, glowing with pride that he was yours, allowing him to toss every spike with determination behind his eyes. 

You were there, every time they lost, when the fangirls crowded the winning team and his slunk away to join them, you showering him with kisses, words of encouragement, and cuddling him until the feeling of failure in his heart gave way to love for you. You were there, uncomplaining, content to just be beside him, be the one he comes to with worries and desires, with food for his hunger and affection for his soul, there just as you always would be until he told you.

Maybe you would stay with him even after he broke your heart, forgive him even if you didn't trust him, keep the routine you had fallen into? He could only hope.

"I wasn't lying when I said I loved you." Your shivering sobs, racking breaths and tear-filled eyes began the way he slowly fell apart. But right then he was cold, aloof, giving you the choice of returning back to him even though he could tell you wouldn't by the way you flinched away from his fingers. "I loved you. I just… fell out of love too."

Wrong words, he sensed. Your reaction changed out of the blue, and his heart thumped against his chest, enough to hurt. Standing up, you brush yourself off and wipe your tears. Though your face was stained and swollen with your very much recent emotions, you tried to put on a strong façade.

Because if he didn’t care, why should you? Why should you be the only one silently braving yourself through the ordeal when he didn’t so much as shed a single drop for the four-year long relationship he was so casually throwing away? Why should you let yourself be defined as insignificant time and over again by the same person who didn’t appreciate the things you did for him, didn’t love you anymore? Why should you if replacing you was just that easy, falling out of love just that simple, shattering you just that effortless, bringing in one of the fans that would turn on him the second the ball slips out of his hands and he misses his toss?

The answer was that you didn’t.

You let go, set him free, cut off all ties. Since he was really that calmly ‘out of love’ with you, it shouldn’t bother him that much if you pretended that he never existed. You would never have pegged Atsumu as the unfeeling type, Kiyoomi maybe, but not your (now ex) boyfriend. He always overwhelming people with his emotions, akin to Bokuto and Hinata, little balls of energy, and now they would all be gone too, simply because Atsumu had a whim to be with someone that wouldn’t disappoint him like you. 

And maybe he was right, maybe you were too clingy, too desperate, too loving for someone like him who could have any girl he wanted.

Thoughts cloud your head, as you pack a quick overnight bag. You just needed to get away from here, away from the hurt, the images of you huddled against different walls of the house waiting for him till late into the nights, innocent, naïve. 

You stop at the figure that leaned against the door frame, looking into his eyes for remorse, grief, regret, anything. It’s too dark to see anything but the cold glint in his eyes as he stares back.

So, you smile, because anything else would have left you sobbing on the now fading laminate of the floors. “’Tsumu, I- I would have given you the stars if you asked for them.” At that his head snapped up, the reference to a summer day, surrounded by cherry blossoms enough to rattle a reaction out of him. “But I was never enough for you, was I? I hope you’re happy now. Don’t forget me, my love.”

You were leaving but you wanted him to remember you; they could call you selfish, manipulative, inconsiderate, but then what was he? Where was the reprimand for his actions? Was he not heedless in his actions? Thoughtless, unmindful? You were leaving the one you believed you would end up with but for his mistake, your life was torn apart, much like your heart.

And you were gone, with a slight caress of his cheek, a soft smile and teary eyes. Leaving him regretting, but still he wouldn’t call out to you, for you. He hoped he had done right by you, right by himself, in telling you, no matter what you felt. Then, why did he feel so empty?

Home though he still came smelling of smoke and elegant perfume, from her house, he always searched for you first, glancing around in rooms for your familiar figure, sitting against a wall as you did before, waiting for him. It took him a minute but he always remembered, felt the hole in his heart ache, where you once belonged, now gone, not gratuitously.

His days were monotonous, unsurprising. You were, he realized, the light in his life, the unpredictable spark of energy, full of love and affection and kindness and forgiveness and patience and you were his. More than she could ever be, belonged to him like snow to the Arctic, rightfully in its place.

Remorse overtook his body, his mind, his soul. It snowballed into something that he couldn’t control anymore, energy drained every morning, crying late into the night, dragging himself around. All because he decided he was better than you, that you were insignificant. That his fangirls could replace you, care for him even a tenth as much as you did. But they didn't, because no one ever could.

The MSBY team wasn’t doing as well as they usually did. The setter seemed distracted, staring up into the stands ever so often, always at a particular spot. The spot remained empty, and the rest of the team turned pitying glances at him. The slow build of frustration took a toll on ’Tsumu, self-loathing building up until it overwhelmed him.

The straw that broke him was the loss of the match. Their first one in two years, first one since you had started to attend his matches. You, his lucky charm. You, the only one that kept him sane. You, who loved him like no one ever had.

The whole stadium watched as the strong, beautiful, majestic setter fell to his knees, hands on his ears, screaming himself hoarse on national television. Screaming for you to come back to him. Screaming for you to forgive his idiocy. Screaming for the only person who had mattered to him more than the world. And no one dared stop him.

Your last words to him resonated over and over in his head, echoing in his ears as his throat went dry and tears streamed down his face. ‘Don’t forget me, my love.’ How could he, when you were the only thing on his mind?