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boyfhees · 2 years

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🗗 MORE THAN ROOMMATES | k. ayato

precis. you plan to move out of your apartment and ayato sees his whole life flash before his eyes.

wc. 10.3k please please please read this do not ignore because of the word count. please read it for ayato in silk robes

genre. humour, roommates ! au, modern ! au, suggestive, roommate to lovers ( ? )

warnings. profanities, this gets sort of sensual pls, suggestive, mentions of sex, disclaimer : there's no style & only writing, very bad jokes i'm unhinged with this one, more or less an inner monologue, unsolicited crack, kys and kms jokes ( ? ), drinking, mentions of dying, open ending ? it's pretty obvious if you'd ask me, thoma and sara are absolutely shit at giving advices, both the reader and ayato are absolute simps oh god please forget i ever wrote this ( actually don't. come talk to me about this )

note. repost :( my brother deleted my account sighh anyway please read this ig this is my fav work ever rip. inspired by this fic by my dearest mai go read it

ayato has no business living in an overly expensive apartment with a broken heater and cracked ceilings. in fact, he can instead move out any second. one call and his chauffeur would pick him up, another call and the kamisatos will have another villa signed under their names— well, ayato’s name, to be specific. for someone with overflowing wealth and a father who’s an excellent architect, ayato is surely down to earth.

his sister, ayaka, drops by every few weeks to check up on her brother. well, honestly, she only arrives to check up on the apartment and try another shot at persuading her brother to move out, only to return back home with nothing but failure in her palms. much to your surprise, she even offered the landlady a contract to buy the apartment. ‘we can buy, renovate and decorate this— then you and ayato can live happily!’ her exact words, but you declined. after all, you can not keep leeching off the kamisatos and living lavishly with a million dollars debt threatening to decapitate you in your sleep. ayato has done enough by handling your expenses when you were fired from your previous job.

talking about you, your life in the apartment isn’t any better. if you ignore the benefits of being roommates with ayato— which solely includes free boba and the opportunity to watch him in a silk robe every time he takes a shower— you don’t have any reasons to not move out of the apartment either. surprisingly enough, you’re sure that if you continue to living there and keep using the dark and narrow alleyway as your shortest way home from the university campus, you’ll be murdered luxuriously.

that was four months ago, though, when you were a new resident who paid an offensively high rent for a shitty apartment and saw yourself on the streets in the near future. the you from four months ago is probably cursing the hell out of you; not even probably, it’s certain. every night, you entertain your two lovely, semi-functional brain cells telling you to gather your stuff and move out the day you get your pay cheque.

you’re reminded to move in with your parents again after you had the nastiest argument with them and moved out impulsively, saying you’ll ‘slay’ out there, in the world, all alone. well, surprise, you’re not. instead, the world is slaying you by having you juggle between three part time jobs while managing your hair-greying college schedule and an apartment who’s faucet goes out every other day. that’s when the landlady gave you the happiest news you’d heard in months : a roommate.

now, you see, for most people, having a roommate would be troublesome. no one wants to share the kitchen or their favourite spot on the couch or something, but the day you were informed about your roommate moving in, you were on cloud nine. you had a drink, blanked out completely in the middle of the living room for absolutely no reason, even cleaned the apartment extra carefully the next day for dear roommate. you’re crazy for that, you had your reasons.

first, the rent. thankfully, it is still around how it was before with a bare fifteen percent increase; but hey, you no longer have to carry the financial burden yourself and have your conscience call you an imbecile every night before you drift into sleep. moreover, you’d finally have someone to fix the faucet, change the bulbs, and most importantly, hear you venting about how shit the apartment is. you were also excited about your roommate being the ‘nice, college student in his early twenties’ guy, as informed by your landlord, but that’s for another day.

and that is how you had ayato as your roommate. his first look was intimidating. you remember wondering if he’s actually a college student and not some undercover assassin. but again, he looks too, if anything, decent, to be an assassin. ayato likes his boba extra sweetened and his closet consists of anything but hoodies and sweatpants. he watches bunny videos in free time and feeds stray cats whenever they come around. he also cooks two meals a day and ends up ordering the third one so you don’t have to overwork yourself after all the part time jobs and stressful classes, helps you with assignment, puts you to bed if you fall asleep in living room— yeah, no. he’s way too decent to be an assassin.

ayato thinks he’s doing a wonderful job at being a roommate who you can depend upon. from the first hour of the day to the last one at night, he helps you, greets you, stays by your side; he’s an amazing roommate, and it’s a fact. thoma confirmed, and sara thinks he’s being a little too generous but hey, it’s about you; and when it comes to you, nothing is ‘too much’ for aayto.

so when you tell him on one fine sunday morning that you’ll be moving out next month, ayato sees his life flash before his eyes. it’s been two days since you’ve informed him and he’s still too stunned to speak.

“hey,” ayato greets you in the kitchen, fetching a glass from a shelf higher than usual. there’s something off about the atmosphere, and it’s definitely not you. so, your eyes travel to ayato as he pours himself a glass of ice-cold water at the ass crack of dawn. “so you’re really moving out?”

what the fuck.

no because, you’re still half asleep. it’s half past five, you’re getting water and ayato waltz into the kitchen with his robe half draping off one of his shoulders and a raspy morning voice that has you weak in knees. perhaps, you expect a sweet little ‘good morning’ with his trademark smile that has the landlord’s daughter wrapped around his finger— and you too, honestly. instead, you’re met with a frown hanging on his face and a question about the topic that was last brought up about two days ago.

“yeah. surprise?” you let out the fakest laugh before letting it die just as quickly the moment the sound of your cracked voice hits your ears. actually, you don’t even care about how you look and sound. what’s more important is that ayato isn't acting like himself. well, he’s the one to react quickly and not resurrect a dead conversation two days after, especially when you’re in the process of mourning and grieving about the lack of ayato you’ll have in your life from the next month onward.

see, you have a disease, and it’s terminal. you could’ve moved out the day you moved in, or the day ayato moved in, or on any day in the past four months, but your condition didn’t allow you. first, it was the lack of green money in your hands to get a better apartment and after ayato moved in, he became the problem.

you’re down bad. outsold. you have one look at a fine man and you wobble on your knees; one sight of toned muscles and you’re a goner. flatline. dead. there’s no going back. the first time you saw ayato was after you came back from your classes with a cake in your hands to celebrate the welcoming of your roommate. you opened the door and before you stood ayato with his drenched hair and silk robe, smelling like primroses and everything that the man of your dreams could have ever.

he shot you a smile, and you were sold.

forget the cake, you had a whole five-star exquisite cuisine standing in front of you. rent was no longer a problem, you didn’t mind living under leaking roofs and honestly, even if someone murdered you, you wouldn’t mind. you have been planning to move out for a long time but if that was going to be the scene you came home to everyday, you didn’t mind any of the problems offered by the apartment.

that is what ayato did to you the day he moved in.

so, making a decision about moving out and telling that to him was a torture. not only were you losing your man— how funny— but also your daily free boba supplier. it was a life changing, heart wrenching, decision; but it had to be done.

you shoot him a smile, patting his shoulders as you walk towards your room. “hey, i’m not leaving until next month so don’t think you’re getting rid of me anytime soon.” you hear ayato let out an exaggerated sigh, one that could blow away the wig of your mathematics professor. you don’t know what occurred to him at five-thirty in the morning when he showed up with the saddest frown ever, but thinking he’s upset about you moving out would be getting ahead of yourself and making a clown of yourself once again, in the circus that your life is.

“dude, what the hell—” that’s thoma, and the saccharine words of compliments leaving his mouth are for none other than ayato. “what’s with your face?”

no no, not only his face; in fact, ayato, as a whole, is fucked up. he didn’t get a single ounce of sleep last night and you can blame some netflix shitshow for that. and just when he was about to fall asleep, his hydration requirements led him into the kitchen and the rest is history.

“why is she moving out?” ayato mumbles in the most disappointed and sorrow ridden voice. he didn’t even sound this heart broken when his last girlfriend dumped him in the middle of victoria’s secret because he didn’t help her choose, you know, her lingerie; as insane as it sounds. thoma hasn’t seen ayato this dejected in over a year and the blond head is convinced his one and only close friend, his bro, is losing his mind.

a second passes, thoma repeats ayato’s question in his head. “she, as in yn?” and the next second, he gets his answer. thoma sits straight, back tightened, eyes fixed on ayato who’s very, uh, desolate right now. he has a class in ten minutes but bros before everything, and especially before an hour-long lesson about shit newton did as a scientist. his priority at the moment is to beat some sense into his friend in the politest way possible.

“why shouldn’t she move out— i mean, have you looked at the apartment? it sucks ass, i’m surprised she made it till four months, i would’ve killed myself on the spot if i had to live there.” ayato shoots him a desperate look, a whine rolling off his pout as thoma’s face scrunches up into disgust because the fuck kind of behaviour is ayato exhibiting in middle of the cafe. “you know, you should move out too. i can clearly see the damage that place has done to you.”

oh no, the damage is yet to be done. it’s happening slowly, gradually, slower than the tortoise in that tortoise and the hare race, slower than a sloth, drop by drop, sucking the life out of him. ayato doesn’t have any interest in that sorry excuse of an apartment. instead, he’s interested in you. the day he moved in, you appeared in front of him as an angel. an angel with a cake, strawberry flavoured cake that he absolutely despises but you, on the other hand, looked edible— he means, you looked beautiful. you always do, even when you’re wasted after four bottles and a plattering mess.

god, ayato thinks it’s a blessing to be able to wake up in the same apartment as you. you may say you’re a potato but for ayato, you’re the longest and spiciest chilli in the bunch, he said what he said. and now you’re moving out, he can already spot the differences in the apartment. your stuff is no longer lying here and there since you’ve started arranging your things.

ayato can sense his descent into madness for several reasons. first, you’re just a roommate so why the fuck does he care if you live with him or move to mars; and second, you lived with him for two months without complaints so, why do you want to move out now. he wants to rip his hair out, drink bleach and sleep, hoping to wake up with a better thinking process and stability.

ayato feels like he has been stripped of humanity, all because you’re moving out in less than thirty days.

“hi— shit— you need to start sleeping, ayato!�� this is sara, and once again, the elite words of compliments are thrown at none other than the boba man. kujou takes a seat next to thoma, observing ayato as he whines and sighs into his hand, looking like a sleep deprived, homeless man who probably has post traumatic stress disorder, but it’s literally just him crying over you, much to sara’s unawareness. “is he okay?”

thoma shakes his head, taking a sip from his drink, shooting her a ‘does-he-look-like-he’s-okay’ look before sighing at his friend’s state once again. “yn’s moving out and he’s not coping well.”

sara leans back on her chair, rolling eyes at ayato’s diseased situation. it’s surprising that someone hasn’t reported him to the infirmary or some asylum; but she knows the cure. unlike ayato, sara isn’t stupid. she knows; studying criminology gives her an advantage of knowing how to read between the lines, or in this case, ayato’s whines.

“it’s about time you accept your feelings.” what. she states and it feels like ayato’s heart skipped several beats. he looks at her wide eyed, flabber-gasted, with jaw dropped to the floor. “what? i know you like her. you’re fooling no one with that stupid face of yours.”

no, what sara’s saying is stupid. you’re a roommate. his roommate. ayato’s roommate. mate of the room. nothing less and certainly, nothing more. you don’t share a single class. his mornings start with your face and then ayato doesn’t see you for the whole day, unless you bump into each other on the campus, which is rarer than him getting hit by a meteoroid and dying. ain’t no way, he likes you. sure, you’re pretty. god, you’re gorgeous. human embodiment of goddesses but it’s just the beauty. apart from being extremely gorgeous and someone who ayato probably values more than his life, you’re basically a no one.

kamisato ayato trusts his instincts, and his instincts tell him that he doesn’t like you. he likes you, just not in that way, not the like-like. not the i-want-to-surrender-my-life-to-you kind of like, not the i-want-to-make-out-with-you kind of like. okay, maybe the last part is a lie— but he still stands by his words.

“you’re gaslighting m—”

“you’re gaslighting yourself.” thoma cuts him mid-sentence. “i still have the screenshots from the day you spammed me after yn posted that pic. don’t even try to deny.”

wait, that happened?

the, going crazy and spamming after seeing your post? ayato likes to think he was drunk.

“you we’re sober, by the way. never been more, honestly.” and oh god, he’s done for. but that’s okay, right? you’re his roommate, and it’s normal for a roommate to aggressively talk about how pretty their roommate is, isn’t it? ayato believes it is normal. it’s as normal as drinking coffee to sleep better. a human appreciating another human’s beauty, what’s so wrong with that? one should support their kind, mutualism is the way through the ecosystem. rhizobium doesn’t live symbiotically for nothing, after all. it’s just give and take—

“are you going to say something or…?” sara interjects ayato’s trail of useless thoughts. he still doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know what to say. he doesn’t like you, right, right— it’s clear in his head, he just needs to put it in words. he’s unable to carry out the last part. “okay, if you don’t like yn, then why do you have a problem with her moving out?”

ah, yes. now we’re talking. the life in ayato’s eyes revisits. “look, look— she’s a great cook,” hah, what a liar. you’re a cook, not a great one. you don’t even cook in the apartment to begin with. the kitchen belongs to mister kamisato ayato and you sit by the counter to watch him cook and add another ten to fifteen years in your life. “and she can clean,” that’s something you’ve always been good at. truthfully, you don’t mind cleaning or doing any of the chores for ayato. you’re ready to get on your fours and bark for him. “and, she's pretty…”

“there,” thoma interrupts, slamming his hand on the table, having ayato look at him with a curious gaze; which looks horrifying because of his lack of sleep, by the way. “i don’t see how being pretty is anywhere close to why you need her to stay.”

sara nods in agreement, but ayato knows he makes sense. who wants to live with an ugly roommate? okay, maybe, all roommates are pretty, but thoma, if ayato had to live with him, he’d flee the country. so, being pretty does co-relate with living peacefully, because if you’re not pretty, your roommate will flee countries and that’ll cause unnecessary expenses. henceforth, point proven. ayato still thinks he makes absolute, completely, hundred percent sense.

“whatever, just ask her to stay if it’s that important,” thoma snickers, rolling his eyes. but what he’s saying is not possible. ayato may be good at flirting, he does have a pretty good record with dating, but he becomes a nervous wreck around you.

he’s nervous right now.

you make him nervous. just the thought of you makes him nervous.

and believe it or not, ayato can’t just walk up to you and ask you to not move away because you’re a great cook, you can clean and you’re pretty— no. he doesn’t have the confidence. the whole process sounds like a secret military operation where flexible deterrent options are a must if he wants to survive.

talking to you feels like writing finals for a subject he has never touched in his whole life. it’s like skydiving without a parachute, going into space without oxygen, and whatnot. despite spending two months with you in the same apartment, under the same roof, ayato’s communication skills haven’t improved past the ‘hi / hello’ stage.

it’s like stepping on his sister in front of his mother and then breaking her favourite vase before throwing his father’s golf clubs into the sewer. and even though ayato says he likes you, hypothetically, he wouldn’t stroll up to you and ask you to not move out. that's utterly selfish. you’re just a roommate, a chapter in his life, someone who he stumbled across on his way and took a liking to— platonically— that’s it. that’s all you are. ayato thinks it’s insultingly selfish of him to ask you to stay. so he wouldn’t ask you, but he wants to, he wishes for you to stay, no matter how selfish it sounds.

“i can’t ask her that.” it’s a stern reply, ayato is way too confident with his words while thoma raises his eyebrows as an interrogative response. “what, you expect me to go ‘hey yn, please don’t move out’ one fine day?”

“no, but you can definitely go, ‘hey yn, you have a sexy and hot roommate who will do you right so don’t move out,’ at her.” ayato believes that the stupidest and most brain-degrading sentence that has ever come out of kujou sara’s mouth. “i mean, you don’t have to tell her to stay, show her.”

“this isn’t literature, sara.”

“i know, but show her the benefits of not moving out,” she repeats, her eyes enunciating a bigger plan behind those few insensible words. “seduce her with your skills, ayato.”

yeah no, there’s no bigger plan.

the only plan is to fuck up kamisato ayato’s already fucked up life with her illogical, useless fucked up plan. for someone studying criminology and nailing those charts, sara surely thinks less before speaking. no, she doesn’t think at all. her brain is probably in the suitcase she trashed last week.

“sara, shut up before i—”

ayato wants to continue his statement, but thoma beats him to it. “no no, wait. she, she makes sense.”

no, she does not.

she doesn’t make any sense.

no dots are connected, the dots aren’t here to begin with. head in hands, ayato sighs again. this sounds like something that would ruin his life beyond repair. to damage his reputation so much, he’d have to flee the country and change his identity. perhaps, the kaedehara family would take him in.

“dude, think about it,” ah, no. ayato very well knows that thoma doesn’t get to talk about ‘thinking’ and anything related to it after saying sara’s plan makes sense. her words are incredibly thoughtless. “you show her the benefits. drop her to campus and drive her back, cook for her, clean for her, arrange her bed for her, earn for her, spend on her, just anything— show her, ayato.”

no.

ayato doesn’t like the direction this conversation is heading in.

or perhaps, he’s just overthinking. well, he has been doing almost everything on that list, honestly. everything as in, cooking. that’s it. that’s important, cooking is necessary, one must survive to eat— he means, eat to survive. he has spent quite a generous sum when you lost your very first job.

this whole conversation is eating his brains out. you’re just a friend, not even a friend, a roommate. a fucking roommate he got attached to and how his abandonment issues are surfacing and god knows what will follow. he repeats thoma’s words in his head over and over again— now way, it makes sense. if anything, it’s going to give you the wrong idea that your roommate became a sugar daddy overnight and you’re going to be his first sugar baby, as sweet and horrific as it sounds.

talk to us when you’re in a state to accept your feelings. that’s what sara said before excusing herself out of the cafe with thoma following her shortly behind. yeah no, ayato is regretting every decision that led him to this conversation, this unsolicited therapy session that fucked his brain inside-out. he’s about to leave the cafe as well, planning to skip all his classes and probably go visit a temple or something, until you come around with your friends.

there’s a smile on your face, the one he wakes up to. he loves your smile. ayato thinks your smile is really pretty; you are pretty— platonically. a smile creeps up to his face as well, dissipating as soon as thoma’s words re-visited his mind.

show her. ayato bites the insides of his cheeks. he’s probably going to take that advice. after all, you can make anything make sense if you really tried.

ayato is on his way to the apartment.

he clearly disposed of all his responsibilities as an ideal student and sprinted out of the campus like a criminal on the run. well, he’s on his way to become a criminal. he’s about to seduce you using his skills and then you’ll report him to the police. doesn’t matter that he can get bailed out in minutes thanks to his mad rich family, he’ll still flee the country, get a new identity, dye his hair. kaedehara ayato doesn’t sound bad, not bad at all. it sounds delicious, healing, sounds like something that would save his life.

now, he’s on the elevator to the floor. he’s afraid the elevator would stop moving if another pack of stress stacks up on his shoulders. actually, that wouldn’t be half bad.

the elevator stops, security comes, you will come running, the management will open the door and he’ll die in your arms out of collapsing lungs? stress? anxiety? heart attack? you’ll cup his face and he’ll tell you about his last wish— please don’t move out. though, it would lack the necessary fucks to give since he’s dead but in case, he’s alive, in case, then you’d live with him. sounds like a plan. godbless to whatever sara and thoma have done, ayato is incapable of carrying out the general thinking procedure.

now he’s walking towards the door, fiddling with the key between his fingers. show don’t tell, show don’t tell, show don’t tell— fuck, if ayato ever paid attention to all the lessons about creative writing in highschool, he would’ve been the best selling author; which he is not. there’s a reason why he’s majoring in history, out of all the available options.

for some reason, ayato expected you to be home. if he remembers correctly, you only have half your lessons and he knows you wouldn’t attend half of those scheduled lessons to read webtoons in the library.

but you’re not home, and he’s going crazy. did you run away? oh god— what if you already moved out? surprise, with the haha, happy living alone note? he doesn’t wait another second before opening the door, coming across a living room that’s seemingly… normal.

he spots your plushie on the couch, your gaming console lying around like trash or whatever, and uh, a poster of some levi ackerman from that apocalypse au of the anime you watch after sacrificing sleep to you sleep paralysis demon. he remembers you ordering it a week ago, turns out it arrived this morning and you unpacked it, leaving it in the living room because you were getting late for classes.

you’re still living here, definitely. there’s no way you’re moving out without that silly poster of yours.

ayato picks it up, judging the man from head to his chest since that’s where the poster ends. he looks like a bergamot. that’s all, and ayato dumps the poster on the floor and leaves to take a shower.

it’s six in the evening.

you got drunk at two for absolutely no reason and passed out at your friend’s place. good for you, your hangover is evaporating. though, your head throbs like something else when you watch ayato in his silk robe after shower when he smells like the man you’d get on your knees for.

you don’t have high expectations this evening. it’s tuesday and ayato never returns on time when it’s tuesday. no he doesn’t drink and judging from how he’s always up at six on wednesdays, he doesn’t get laid either; which is actually good for you because you would never, ever, want any girl to sleep with your man, even though he isn’t yours.

you’re met with a pleasant surprise when you stand in front of your door with the keys in your hands, noticing that it’s already unlocked. perhaps, you can at least end your day with ayato in his finest attire. you smile, opening the door, your smile grows wider as you notice ayato’s shoes, it grows even wider when you smell freshly prepared creme pasta lingering in the air. you’re in for a ride. you step in further, eyes settling on your roommate who’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a wine glass in his hand— wait.

wait a damn minute.

wait a fucking second, that’s— ayato for sure— okay, you decide to take it from the bottom. that’s ayato wearing a silk pyjama, okay that’s new. new for you, maybe not for him, but you’re used to seeing him in silk robes with nothing beneath, you know, bare calves and feet. his toenails probably look prettier than yours. your eyes travel up further, completely leaving out the part you shouldn’t be thinking about especially when you’re still partly hungover, you see his abs— pause.

hold the fuck up, his abs? you blink, and look again, you stare at him for a better look. abs. fucking abs, you’re— but why abs?! no, you don’t complain. all you’ve ever seen is a part of his chest from the godsent chest window offered by his robes. nothing more, nothing below, not abs. never.

you— okay— you take a deep breath and process the situation. ayato is wearing the same silk robe, except it’s with pyjamas, however he didn’t tie it. he didn’t tie it, oh god— you’re watching kamisato ayato from the first seat, full access to his toned abs, you’re frothing at the mouth.

“welcome home, yn” silence. what. what. what the fuck did he say? no, ayato greets you everything but not like this. not in the seductive tone that makes your name sound a hundred times breathtaking and make you feel like you’re an empress to some crazy rich nation, not in a way where you can look at his abs, and he runs his fingers through his wet hairs before taking a sip from the wine. not in the sexy, knee weakening, voice that fills your brain with the visual depiction of ‘pregnant emoji’ over and over again.

you’re done. sold. dead. gone. mother of his kids, probably? you don’t mind because just when you thought you’re over your silly little crush on your roommate and ready to move out, he stands in front of you, looking like aphrodite’s son or just, aphrodite herself— except, this one’s male.

“yn, you okay there?” no no no, you’re not, you’re not. you’re not okay. you’re oscillating between having the time of your life and lying on your deathbed. it’s like you’re playing a quiz with your own mind where the first option is to die and the second option is to die as well. you’re— you’re failing to compose yourself and you’re sure if someone doesn’t drag you out of this, you will embarrass yourself horribly enough for you to dig a hole and decompose.

ayato chuckles. he chuckles. he has the audacity to chuckle at you after looking at that. does he even know about the effect he has on you? no, of course he doesn’t. he probably thinks it’s completely normal for him to stand in front of you, half naked, looking criminally hot; yeah no— someone needs to stop him.

“your face is red,” oh, i wonder why. “are you sick?” it’s such a rhetorical question, you’re not sure if he’s actually that innocent or whether he’s having fun teasing you like this. you nod, avoiding all sorts of eye contact and verbal conversation. you’ve figured out enough that if you open your mouth, it’ll get you in trouble. you’re bound to say something stupid, perhaps about how you want him to blow your back like a glowstick or something, or maybe you’d tell him to dress up and put on some clothes, despite the fact that you very much adore the scene in front of you right now, and make everything terribly awkward for the rest of your lives.

ayato smiles, putting his hand on your shoulder, and you feel several volts of electric current travelling down your spine. you’re getting butterflies, or perhaps the whole damn zoo with monkeys swinging off your ribs and vertebrates. you want to pass out. you want to faint right fucking now before something goes wrong because he’s standing right in front of you, and his hand is on your shoulder, and you’re getting a much much closer and clearer look at this toned muscles— you’re about to start barking.

“uh, i’ll go—” yes. leaving is the only option, the only correct option. exactly what you should do right now. gather your useless thoughts, run away, go to your room, take a cold shower, and don’t come out until ayato leaves for his classes the next day.

he smiles, taking his hand off your shoulder and you take a sign of relief. probably the best you’ve felt in months, really. “okay, i’ll set dinner.”

“i’m not hungry.”

“huh?”

“i’m not hungry, i feel sick. it’s uh— dysentery.” great. fucking marvelous. out of everything, it had to be dysentery.

“oh. do you need med—”

“no, i have benadryl.” you want to bang your head into the closest wall, want the ceiling to finally collapse, the tiles to break and take you inside. you just want to disappear because benadryl is a fucking cough syrup. you simply excuse yourself before he could ask anymore questions, hearing him suppress his laughter as you walk away. he probably knows you’re lying, doesn’t take a doctor to tell what a benadryl is; and you couldn’t thank him enough for pretending you’re absolutely right with the medications and letting you be.

you get inside your room, you shut the door, you lean against it and contemplate every decision you ever took in your life.

where did it go wrong?

was it the part when you moved in? damn, sure you should’ve moved out earlier. you should’ve ran away the day you saw a fine man like ayato standing in front of you, tagged as your roommate. you know you’d sell your soul or something for him, you are aware of the things you’d do for him, for ayato, because a man like him deserves the world. you should’ve moved out before your inner simp had started channelling herself.

you grab your clothes and decide to sit in the shower until you prune up and die. that’s probably the only right decision. you’re about to get inside the bathroom when you hear the doorbell, halting your steps as you hear footsteps approaching inside.

“hi,” that. that’s a woman. a lady, a female human, you didn’t think ayato would be capable of being friends with any other woman beside you and kujou sara.

now judging from the low, scarred intensity of the voice that’s reaching your ears, you can tell she’s a pretty woman. pretty like those campus crushes but in your head, she’s pretty like those main antagonists of some melodramatic television show that make you want to strangle her to death with every breath she takes. you don’t even know her but the way your fist clenches, it’s definitely jealousy piping out of you like candies from pez dispensers.

“i’m sorry for last night,” last— last what? “we can continue.”

continue what.

no. no fuck, you can’t.

if this is about what your rotten brain is thinking about then there’s no way they can continue. you’re here, in your room, the walls around aren’t soundproof and you aren’t ready for whatever obscene act they’re going to pull in his room, or perhaps in the living room because the woman seems to have zero patience.

“my roommate is here,” that’s ayato. yes. you nod in approval. tell her ayato. tell her to gather up her fantasies and desires and get he fuck out of your apartment. “hope you don’t mind.”

what.

of course, you mind. you didn’t sign up for some real life porn show when signing the papers for this apartment. moreover, you’re not stable and mentally, physically or emotionally strong enough to stand all the moans and groans that’ll fill up the room when he’ll do everything that you want him to do with you, and you’re thinking this with all your soberness.

“oh, she can join us! the more, the merrier.” no, never. you don’t want to join them in their silly little adventure. you’re not in for some monstrous threesome, as amazing as it sounds. you still have to live with ayato for around twenty-eight days and you can’t just join the two of them tonight and wake up the next day as if nothing ever happened.

you’re insane, but the sane part is still functional. your last two lovely, worn out brain cells are working day and night to keep you alive, successfully having you avoid all the pits of embarrassment and shame, you can not let them down.

you don’t hear ayato’s response, or perhaps, you want to pretend you didn’t. because you definitely heard something along the lines of ‘bend over,’ and then he cues some music.

it’s sway by michael buble. out of all the testosterone stimulating sex songs out there, ayato had to choose this. well, it doesn't change the fact that she’s living the life you’ve been dreaming for, ever since ayato moved in. you’re fucking glad the song is loud enough to block any R-rated sounds or else you would’ve suffered a trauma and piss your pants everytimes someone brings up sex the next time in your life.

you’re on your bed, covering your ears with your pillows, trying to sleep, while she’s in his arms, doing the deed. funny, very funny. is there a chance you would have completely misinterpreted the entire situation? maybe. but no woman randomly shows up at a man’s house after seven in the evening and the first thing she asks is to continue their last night activities.

you wish your ears would fall off and you’d forget everything you heard tonight. the sound of music isn’t helping you sleep and you can waltz to ayato and ask him to turn down the volume in middle of whatever the fuck they’re doing and infect your eyes and lose your virginity along with the last bits of your sanity, but you don’t have the balls to do so.

you don’t have the balls to do anything. maybe if you did, you would’ve told ayato about your feelings and maybe, tonight, it would’ve been you instead of that woman. so you just do what you can : bury yourself inside the covers and try to sleep.

maybe if you ignore it, it will go away.

waking up, you realise you haven’t had any sleep in the past twenty-four hours or so. maybe you did, thirty minutes, or so. that doesn’t count when all you’ve heard last night are some horribly weird sex songs and phrases like, ‘that feels so good,’ and other things along the same lines whenever the music stopped.

you looked at yourself in the mirror and almost passed out at the sight. horrible, literally. failing valak from the conjuring universe. actually, you can be the new valak except you’ll have real, actual, trauma and reason to haunt people.

what surprises you more is that you haven’t come out of your room since last evening and ayato didn’t even check up on you. not like he’s obliged to, but he must. despite the fact that he was probably having the best night of his life, he should have morals as a human who cares about another human; or, as a roommate, because what if you fell from bed and broke your back? what if you got stuck in a chair and died of poor circulation? he probably doesn’t care. you’re pretty sure he’ll call the woman from last night the moment he finds your body and they’ll dance and sing on your grave; maybe, even fuck around it too.

you want to get out of your room and go to the kitchen. you want to eat. but you’re scared the pair from last night would be passed out naked on the floor— nah, you’re not ready for that scene at seven in the morning. and this wouldn’t have been another issue to worry about if only ayato showed a little more patience and compassion and took her to his room.

well, you have to survive. there’s a harsher world out there.

you open the door and creep out of your room as if you’ve been meaning to steal something. you’re acting like this isn’t your apartment but the apartment of someone you’ve stolen a couple million dollars from. oh, and your eyes are closed. yeah. you’re not ready, not ready at all. you’d rather bump and fall and hit your head, die on spot; that'd be way better—

“oh, you’re up,” that’s a familiar voice. you’re sure, you look crazy standing in front of your room with your eyes closed, but that’s for another day. the main question is whether you should open your eyes or not. “you didn’t come out for dinner, i was waiting.”

your eyes shoot open.

okay. okay…

so, he’s not naked. thankfully, he’s dressed. fully dressed, in a white shirt with a top few buttons undone, black jeans or trousers, whatever they are. you miss the chest window, but you’re glad he’s dressed because you don’t certainly want to look at the scratches and marks from last night and add more trauma to your life.

“i told you, i had dysentery,” as if he believes you. the look on his face tells he doesn’t. no one would, you ruin things for yourself.

as expected, ayato is a goddamn liar. the ‘i was waiting,’ part sounds so fake now that you’re aware of what happened last night. because waiting while fucking someone doesn’t sound like waiting to you. more or less, it sounds like he was devouring his dinner while you were starving in your room.

“did you not sleep last night?” oh, yeah, of course not. he’s getting there, slowly, but he is getting to the point. you wonder who’s to be blamed for your lack of sleep and the reason why you woke up with only one living and semi-functional brain cell. “ah, is it because of me? was it too loud last night? i was busy.”

busy? yeah, he was busy working really hard blowing someone’s back or whatever. sounds like a tough job, but that’s none of your business. ( actually, it is ) you don’t want to have this conversation. you don’t know how to look him in the eyes. ayato, your roommate, your crush, he rocked someone else’s world while he knew you were in the apartment, probably hearing everything. for someone who’s rich enough to be featured in crazy rich asians, ayato surely does work a lot, and hard enough, at that.

you want to murder him. chop off his limbs and also the part he’s probably very proud of. you want to shave his head so that no girl approaches him in the future.

“oh, you probably don’t know about my work, do you?” no. you don’t want to. you don’t want to hear about the details, you’re not ready for this conversation. “i help my mom with physiotherapy,”

yes. yes therapy, sounds lovely. everyone needs it, especially him. wait, therapy? what kind of therapy is sex? well, it is some sort of therapy by the way, it makes you feel at ease— no, you’re swerving away from the topic ! okay, maybe you didn’t hear him correctly. he clearly said psychotherapy and he needs to get his licence revoked for the kind of therapy he is giving. it’s giving rise to more mental patients; you, for example.

“therapy?” you mutter, you didn’t mean to. you need to learn how to keep your thoughts to yourself, you lack severely in that department of life.

“yes, therapy for joints and bones? my mother is a physiotherapist and she taught me a thing or two,” oh. oh. physiotherapy. is that why he asked her to bend over? what was the need to put on music, though? you don’t understand ayato. actually, you don’t understand anyone in the kamisato family even though you’ve only met his sister so far.

now, you feel guilty for thinking about him in that light. apart from the potential visual representations of ayato from last night in your head, you have a very high respect for this man. you feel like you should get on your knees and apologise, offer a hand-written apology letter for thinking of him in such a non-PG-13 manner.

though, you don’t know how to apologise. you can’t possibly go ‘sorry, ayato, i thought you were busy having the best sex of your life when you were actually providing her therapy.’ that doesn’t even sound right. it makes you look like you need therapy, urgently. but you need to apologise for your sake. maybe, this is just the consequences of your actions or in this case, your imagination.

“i’m—” you open your mouth to speak, but ayato beats you to it.

“do you want to go out with me today?”

wait, what?

do what now?

go out with who?

it’s a question that catches you off guard, pushes off off the cliff, stops your heart. the monkeys in your stomach are alive again even though they suffer from utter embarrassment and guilt for assuming all sorts of things about ayato, and the perfect man he is.

you want to say yes. of course, no one in their right mind would reject such a golden opportunity to ride in his Bugatti La Voiture Noire that’s worth 18.7 million dollars as of when he purchased it. you remember you have a terminal disease where you spot one toned muscle and sell your conscience to whatever demon is out there. even though you don’t see any toned muscles, you see ayato’s collar bones thanks to those few undone buttons, you see the nerves of his arms thanks to the rolled up sleeves, you see him wearing an apron because he was making breakfast, what a malewife.

you’re sold, almost.

almost.

the offer is tempting, but your new apartment is more. you’re an adult and it's a fact even if you don’t want to believe it and want to become a cat who solely lives for aesthetic purposes. you need to earn for yourself and move out of this apartment instead of living in a hell just to fill a void called ayato in your heart.

“i have to go take a look at how the work at my new apartment is going,” you’re surprised at how sane and normal your response sounds. it’s truly concerning after everything that has happened since last evening and the trash that’s residing in your head.

you try your best to sound apologetic. you are, you really are, you’re missing out on ayato and his Bugatti La Voiture Noire of $18.7 millions, the one that people ( aka, you ) drool over every time they pass by. it’s an expensive sacrifice, literally and metaphorically, worth more than your life.

“well, that sucks,” ayato sighs, removing the apron in the most seducing way possible, proceeding to run his fingers through his hairs, looking like a mouth-watering, melt in the mouth, sizzling pork at seven-thirty in the morning. “i had plans for us,”

and you’re floored.

us. you like the sound of that. you and ayato, ayato and you, hot. very hot, very sexy, sounds like an eargasm, honestly. for a second, you think it’s a dream. it has to be. if not, then maybe he wants to take you to a shrine or something and have you cleansed from top to bottom for all the r-rated thoughts you’ve been having. but, that’s only possible if ayato has an idea of what’s going on inside your head. there’s no way he knows that, or maybe he does. you look at him like he’s the happy meal and you haven’t eaten in a good five-hundred years or so.

you’re too lost in your thoughts to focus on ayato until he leans in a bit closer, alerting every single neuron in your body as he shoots you a smirk, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “have fun, pretty.”

and here lies yn, twenty something, majoring in one of the available majors offered by her university. cause of death: kamisato ayato.

ayato lets out a desperate cry of help, sliding down the walls of thoma’s living room as soon as he enters thoma’s apartment, scaring the living shit out of his friends.

“go die somewhere else.” that’s sara again. you can’t blame her, she follows thoma like a pest because he’s a good cook, that’s it. food above everything else.

thoma walks to the entrance, sighing at the sight of his friend lying on the floor, dejected and lifeless, looking pale, running the beauty of thoma’s luxurious apartment tiled with granite floors. if it weren’t for his morals, he would’ve trashed ayato.

“i feel like a whore,” sara’s face scrunches up in disgust. maybe, judging from the way ayato talks about you, he is a whore. if not a whore, then something equivalent to it. “never knew i’d have to do this.”

sara leans against the wall that ayato just slid down out of pure despair. “do what?”

“seduce yn.” thoma practically pukes out all the water from his mouth at his friend’s words. “what, you both told me to do so!”

sara doesn’t believe his words. they say love is blind, but in this case it’s also ignorant and incapable of following the wise and helpful instructions provided. “how the fuck have you been seducing her?”

“um, with my skills?”

“don’t tell me.” the disappointment, in thoma’s voice, is astronomical. who would’ve thought that kamisato ayato, the heir to kamisato estate, excels in the art of idiocy. god really said he can either have looks or brains, and completely missed out on the latter. “ayato, i talked about cooking and cleaning and your homekeeping skills and not about your talents in bed.”

oh.

that’s right.

even though all ayato did was fluster you a little this morning— see, he’s disregarding what happened last evening. ayato assumes you’re used to seeing him half naked in his silk robe, with his drenched hair while he smells like primroses and sandalwood and everything else that’s featured in Dior’s men perfume collection. he thinks it’s normal. it’s his apartment, he gets to wear whatever he wants and make himself comfortable.

he doesn’t know what bed skills tho— wait, bed? skills? talent in bed? what? what? he’s not even marginally close to what thoma is thinking; and ayato is sure that he needs to get new friends before it’s too late.

“what ‘talents in bed’ are you even talking about?” ayato asks, finally standing up from the floor like the kamisato he is and slumping on the couch.

thoma deadpans. “do you seriously want me to elaborate?” no, probably not. never. thoma has experience in this field, you see, and ayato, as someone who has never even thought about this, doesn’t want him to explain and give details about every single move and curve— no.

ayato chooses his sanity over human reproductive knowledge.

“i— nothing happened, nothing! all i did was ask if she wanted to go out with me and,” he pauses, eyes travelling between thoma and sara simultaneously. the latter raises her eyebrows, gesturing to him to continue his precautionary tale about how to not treat your roommate. “and, and i might’ve flirted with her, a little, yeah.”

the embarrassment is evident in his voice.

ayato wants to liquify and evaporate. he wants thoma’s house to break down and kill everyone and him too. he wants the microwave to blast, just anything, anything that could save him from this conversation. now, flirting isn’t that bad in itself. it’s good, it’s fun, ayaka flirts with yoimiya when her inner lesbian unleashes itself. sara flirts with shogun for some goddamn reason and everyone thinks they have a thing or two going on because no one dares to talk to ei. itto flirts with himself in the mirror— it’s normal, completely, absolutely, certainly, normal-er than normal. normal-est.

ayato, however, doesn’t flirt. he doesn’t know how to flirt. the leisure art of flirting is beyond the luxuries this specific kamisato can afford. the last time he hit on someone was a cat, not even his ex-girlfriend, a cat. a feline. it scratched him. ayato refrains from flirting to avoid all sorts of innuendos—

a pause. the innuendos, the fucking innuendos, oh god. what if, what if you get the wrong idea? well, thoma and sara assumed that he has been trying to get laid with you so it only makes sense for you to assume the same after all that half-naked, bare-chested, sexy-wine-sipping, jazz last evening.

no no no—

he’s done. he’s done.

over.

if there’s someone who should move out, it’s him.

this life ruining emotionally stressing psychologically mortifying realisation makes him want to jump down the nearest window and pass out, then never wake up. he wants to trip on air and die of mesothelioma, wants to overdose on sparkling water and die of negativity in his life.

if he doesn’t die, he wishes for the earth to explode or something so that everyone else dies and humanity comes to an end. his day has been ruined, his disappointment and shame is immeasurable. kazuha better be ready to have an adopted brother because ayato is damn sure the kamisatos are kicking him out after this.

ayato doesn’t wait for his friends to say something. he simply walks out of thoma’s apartment, dejected in shame, hoping lighting will strike him in broad daylight on a day with clear skies. you’re not home, that’s great. you won’t be back anytime before evening because you’re out with your friends. no, actually, you’re out with miko and the new transfer students beidou and venti, who you are bound to get drunk and pass out with.

that’s good, it’s great. a godsent opportunity. there are two possibilities: first, either you come home remembering everything and move out the very next day or second, you forget everything thanks to alcohol. he hopes it’s the second one. alcohol does wonders water could never. those two molecules of hydrogen and one molecule of oxygen don’t do shit when it comes to forgetting memories. alcohol, on the other hand, is capable of doing miracles.

like the time he got home downright wasted and almost kissed you senseless while you were helping him clean up. he can swear, he saw the blush on your cheeks. but maybe, that was just fatigue since you had to wake up at two to deal with him.

yeah, alcohol, a godly drink.

he reaches home, grabs a beer can from the refrigerator and makes himself comfortable on the couch. ayato wants to forget everything, hoping you’d forget it all too.

“ayato,” you whisper his name, shaking his shoulders gently in an attempt to wake him up. not like you want to, the sight of him sleeping soundly is healing you and washing off your sins. one does not see the kamisato ayato sleeping on the couch with flushed cheeks because of drinks and a shirt that’s almost half-a-way undone everyday.

it’s a godly sight. a scenery. mother nature could never. you genuinely want to thank his parents for the masterpiece they have created.

you shouldn’t sit next to the couch and gawk at him while he’s sleeping. that’s creepy. what if he wakes up? imagine waking up to your roommate staring at you with the utmost attention. creepy, and moreover, you wouldn’t be able to face him.

but again, he looks like the man you’d like to have as your boyfriend. scratch that, your husband, if not more. as if, anything more remains, but whatever. you smile, it’s a chuckle. you chuckle. you chuckle out loud, hand flying to your mouth immediately, hoping he doesn’t wake up.

you reach out for his face, tracing his nose as superficially as possible, a faint gasp escaping your lips as he shifts a little. great. you have woken him up. his eyes flutter open and you quickly compose yourself, leaning away from him as you realise about the close proximity between him and you.

ayato groans as he turns to his right, eyes landing on you sitting on the floor right next to him, eyes wide open like a deer caught in the headlights. a second passes, you’re okay. the next second, you’re not.

you’re panicking.

you’re experiencing all sorts of emotions at once because ayato just woke up and he probably knows you’ve been sitting here, watching him sleep for god knows how long. time is a social construct either way, who the fuck cares— okay, you’re swaying from the topic once again. and not to mention he looks extremely hot with messed up hair and those flushed cheeks. you’re barely composing yourself.

did you mention that ayato has excellent facial features? he looks even more stunning up close. you know you should get up and walk away. hide yourself inside your room, live in solitary confinement for the rest of your life, or at least till ayato is around. but you don’t, because you’re staring at ayato, and he’s staring back at you. it’s like you’ve frozen in your place, you’re pretty sure you’d forgotten to breathe, if that even makes sense?

“hi,” he mutters, whispers, in his godly, eargasmic voice, and you feel like you’re hearing melodies of careless whisper ringing in your ears.

no, you’re not sitting on the floor anymore. you stand up, pretending nothing ever happened, as if you didn’t stare at him sleeping and continued to stare for five solid minutes even after he had woken up. a very reliable solution, playing pretend always proves to be useful.

“you can wash up, i’ll prepare the hangover soup,” you mutter, making your way to the kitchen, hearing him shuffle on the couch as he sits straight. ayato doesn’t remember a lot from the events that happened prior to your arrival, yet, which is fantastic. marvels of alcohol, everyone.

“don’t go,” he mumbles, and you stop on your way. “don’t move out,” ayato doesn’t think before speaking, he never does. he doesn’t trust himself. he said you’re just a roommate, nothing less, nothing more, but he has been devastated ever since you told him you’ll be moving out. maybe, that was all a lie. maybe, this isn’t just platonical. maybe, you have always been a little more than just a roommate to ayato.

it’s like the fireworks are going off all around you. you’re still processing his words, wondering if he really means them because in the end, he’s drunk. partially, completely, he is drunk. and you can never trust alcohol and its consequences.

so, you simply decide to play along, hoping he won't remember this conversation the next day. “is there a reason for me to stay?”

“i am,” another quick reply, and you’re losing your mind. it’s like the ground beneath you is shaking. your heart is accelerating so fast, you’re scared it’ll come out of your chest. it’s not your first time witnessing a drunk ayato who has gone batshit crazy, but it is your first time having him look at you with an expression you’ve never seen on his face before. at least not with regards to you.

he sighs, getting up from the couch before making his way towards you with every step increasing your already racing heartbeat. and before you know it, he’s already standing in front of you, barely a few inches apart as he cups your face, eyes settling on your lips. “please remind me if i forget any of this tomorrow,”

rest all feels like a dream because ayato, your roommate, the guy you’ve had a crush on ever since he moved in, the man you’d bark for— not literally, maybe, is kissing you. he’s not just kissing you, he’s kissing you, as in literally slotting his lips against yours, pulling you closer with every second that passes. he’s kissing you like the world will end tomorrow and even if it does, you don’t mind. you don’t fucking mind if the house burns to ashes and a truck runs you over the very next day because this is everything you’ve wished for in past two months ( you know, besides having a place with better living conditions to call house )

“ayato—” no he doesn’t let you speak. instead, he nibbles on your lips, soft gasps for air twirling in between as he frames you against the kitchen counter. no, this isn’t your first kiss. you’ve had relationships, but nothing compares to this moment. no other kiss compares to how he’s kissing you and how it feels like you’re on an amusement park ride where the adrenaline gets the best of you and suddenly, you’re drowning between pleasure and thrill.

that is what kissing ayato is like.

it’s like going to heaven and back in just the way his hands ghost up your cheeks and slot them against your waist, your hands wrapping around his neck as his tongue slightly brushes against your bottom lips, and without a second thought, you let it in. kissing ayato is like gravitating towards a black hole, it’s like lying at the rock bottom and falling even deeper. you’re not sure if you should be doing this right now, especially when he’s drunk, but the taste of alcohol against your tongue inhibits your thought process, allowing your feelings to get the best of you.

he pulls away, lips brushing against yours as you lean in to capture them in another kiss, only for him to retract. needless to say, it leaves you a little embarrassed. ayato cups your cheeks once again, making you look into his eyes with his warm breath fanning on your face. “i love you,” that’s all he says before navigating his lips to yours once again.

you’re not sure if you heard him right. of course, you did. you have a good sense of hearing and there’s no way you’re missing such an important detail, but— love, you don’t know how sober that is. you don’t know how much of this kiss, and every sensation that you’re sharing with each other, is genuine. you don’t know how sober ayato is, you don’t know whether this is because of the alcohol or if he actually loves you. so, you put his hands on his chest, pushing him away as he stares at you with an expression ranging between confusion and heartbreak.

you kiss the inside of his palms, shooting him a sweet smile, before walking into your room. “say that again when you’re sober.”

note two. hello if you made it this far im in love you and sending you all the, uh, things that you like ?? probably ?? yeah. trust me, i never knew i'd end up writing a 10,310 words long fic about ayato and reader simping over each other, in around five hours, two days before my english exam. but this had to be done. i had the rough draft in my keep ever since i made my genshin acc ( hi hi to people who remember my nezlys era ) i had to elaborate. i hope you liked this ?? not the kind of writing you want to see or even write, when this is your first post for a fandom but c'mon. it's about ayato. i had to do this for ayato in silk robe when he's freshly out of shower smelling like primroses and sandalwood and everything else from Dior's men perfume collection

send an ask to join my genshin taglist !

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boyfhees · 2 years

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1 : 27 AM

one thing you don't like about atsumu getting drunk is that he comes home so late, it ruins your sleep. it wouldn't have been a bother if he entered quietly, making sure to not disturb the silence; but miya atsumu being, well, himself, comes in like a wrecking ball— literally, stumbling and bumping into things here and there— and the noise eventually drags out of of the bed with displeasure evident on your face, just the way it's doing now.

"tsum, did you drink again?" it was a rhetorical question. as if you didn't notice his improper balance accompanied with slurred words as you stepped out of your bedroom, rubbing your eyes to get a clearer look. but that question was the best your half asleep brain could've come up with at dead of the night.

atsumu shakes his head, gasping at the oh so scandalous accusation for someone who's bound to play at olympics in couple of months. "no. why would you even say that,"

"c'mon, let's get you changed." you yawn, grabbing his arms. "gosh, maybe try to drink less next time."

and all atsumu does is to grin as you take him inside the bathroom. one thing you like about atsumu getting drunk is that he gets really dorky — or maybe, even dorkier. his aimless words, sugar-coated confessions and flushed cheeks give you butterflies even when you're half asleep and even when he barely knows what he's saying.

you undo his shirt and for some reason, it's utterly difficult to manage him when the lack of soberness intoxicates his head. he gets slouchy, almost like a sloth and his hands never leave your waist.

never.

it's like they belong there, as if your waist is the home they've been craving for since the evening rolled by. not like you complain, you can't, but unlike other days when atsumu pulls you closer by your waist and plants butterfly kisses on your stomach, an irascible scowl haunts his face this time. the miya atsumu you had known ever since highschool never shuts up even when he's drunk, but unlike usual, atsumu didn't recite verses of i love yous and if you're being honest to yourself, it sets your heart on a nervous journey.

"y'know what babe, i love you." that's the first one in fifteen minutes, and the pause that follows beckons that there's more to it. "but i think,"

and then another pause. his gaze averts to a stray corner behind you before setting on the bathtub— anywhere but you, the scowl is no longer sour. it's unreadable. unlike usual, when drunk atsumu becomes an open book, you fail to read him. and so you decide to ask him yourself. "but what?"

"but," he sighs, bringing his eyes back to you. they reflect a certain range of desolation and then, his hands ghost up your waist. "but i love her more."

you pause. he speaks again. "i think, i love her a lot more," you begin dressing him up again.

one thing about atsumu is that, he's really bad at hiding anything. he tries, he fails. maybe that's why you noticed the minimal changes in his behaviour for the past few weeks. the way he has been spending more time over phone, more gatherings at the restaurant but it's just his teammates ( which doesn't concern you, mostly ) reading atsumu is really easy when he's drunk, really, even though he seems different this time 'round. maybe that's why you're not surprised by his last words, considering he has told you that last time he got drunk, too.

so you let him continue, and listen as he speaks.

"you do? what's so special about her?" your voice is soft, the drops of sleepiness evaporated long ago. atsumu is surprised now that you ask him to continue, since last time you told him to put it off.

"she— she's nice, y'know? but you're nice too. i don't know what's special about her," he frowns, furrowing his brows in an attempt to indulge himself in finding the answer to your question. it's adorable, and suddenly, the frown morphs into bits of excitement. "i think i know. her name, it's her name. it has a nice ring to it."

and you're sigh, buttoning up his shirt with a faint smile dancing on your lips. "what about my name?"

"your name," he thinks, biting his inner cheeks. "it's pretty, jus' like you. y/n, it sounds good, but her, y/n miya— her name's the prettiest."

you laugh, escorting him out of the bathroom and tucking him into bed before sliding next to him under the covers. once again, as the lore goes, atsumu is really bad a hiding things; or in this case, a surprise.

"do you think you can change your name to that?" he asks, voice just as low as a whisper to make sure he's not disturbing you if you're already asleep.

and a chuckle falls of your lips. "maybe if you ask me again in the morning, i will."

note. NO ONE TOLD ME THE OG WAS SO SHIT . THIS WAS ONE OF MY EARLIEST WORKS AND I JUST RE-READ AND ???? I WILL SEE U ALL IN HELL FR 😭😭 THANK U FOR READING THO and god, he's so stupid :/

#prod. — caelin.#album. — haikyuu.#atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #atsumu headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu drabble #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu timestamps #hq #hq atsumu

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boyfhees · 2 years

Text

♡ GO LIVE !

PRECIS. kenma is your best friend— and also your crush for two years. so when all your shots at confessing fail, his twitch stream viewers might be able to help. ( wc. 3.5k )

GENRE. fluff, best friends to lovers

WARNINGS. kissing but it's not descriptive, one / two profanity ( ies ) i guess, reader is kinda down bad ( but it's kenma so we dont blame them )

NOTE. lol repost 👎 but here's my fav kenma thing i ever wrote

‘Would you join me in today’s stream?’ — seen.

Your heart is palpitating at an unimaginable pace and you’re not sure if it’s because of the presentation due tomorrow or because Kenma asked you to join his stream for the very first time. You like to think it’s the latter— because how can you be so in love with someone? Is it possi—

“You’re blushing,” Kuroo’s words cut your trail of thoughts, which also reminds you to drink your coffee before it gets cold. “Let me guess, it’s Kenma?”

You roll your eyes at the smirk that crept up his face. It’s annoying, really, to live with his never ending remarks. But no matter how much you deny, Kuroo isn’t wrong. It’s not just Kenma, it’s the Kenma Kozume— a hotshot gaming streamer, who happens to be your best friend for over two years, and who’s also your crush and he’s so oblivious about it, he doesn’t know your heart is on the palm of his hands, and he could shatter it into pieces at any given moment.

And it’s not only about accompanying him in a stream. It’s about sitting next to him, in front of millions of people, talking to him, and putting up an actual, functional conversation when you’re barely able to control your thoughts when he’s in front of you. In your defense, everyone liked Kenma. You’ve seen people shouting messy confessions at him whenever he’s out, or giving you gifts / letters to pass on to the boy when they knew you both were friends. You’ve also seen him helping kids and old people cross the road, and they appreciate it so much that they want to introduce their daughters to him. You’ve seen him donating thousands and millions to pet rescue centers and other charities, you’ve seen him being nothing but nice to people he just met.

It was bound to happen— your crush on him, it wasn’t avoidable.

“So are you going to say something or just stare at the phone screen?” Kuroo interrupts again, which you’re grateful for. All the Kenma thoughts in your head needed to be put to rest, even if it was for a minor second.

You look at the boy in front of you with worry ridden eyes. “What should I do? Decline it? I don’t even know about that Zoo Crossi—”

“Animal Crossing.” He corrects.

“— whatever.” You retort. “Just tell me what I should do!”

Kuroo thinks you’re crazy. If it were him, he would accept his best friend’s offer without a second thought. Honestly, any other person in love would’ve done the same— except you. He thinks your brain works differently, is convinced that love has infected your brain so much, you’re unable to figure out what you should do and what you shouldn’t. On one hand, you talk about spending time with Kenma and on the other hand, you freak out about the same, thinking you’ll make a fool of yourself in front of him.

“Join him in the stream? Talk to him? I don’t know, maybe play along? It’s just a stream, y/n. It’s not that hard!”

“No, you don’t get it, Tetsu!” You shout in frustration. This whole situation makes you want to rip your hair out. And what’s even more frustrating is that the man in front of you, Yang Kuroo, is doing anything but helping you out. “You’ve never had a crush, have you?”

“Now, now, y/n” He stops you cautiously. “I’ve also been in a relationship, if you’re forgetting.”

Oh, whatever. You roll your eyes again. Honestly, you don’t know what’s wrong. He’s right— it’s not that hard, but again, it is that hard. It’s confusing, you’re lost. You want to spend time with Kenma, but you’re afraid you’ll do something embarrassing and you’ll have to flee the country, change your identity, and whatnot. It doesn’t make sense, how indecisive can a person be? And the stream? Kenma never asked you to join his streams. He knows you fall down to figure zero when it comes to games.

Then why?

Does he want to make fun of you? Wait— what if he finds you annoying and he wants you out of his life? What if he has a secret love who’s insecure of your presence so he’s trying to push you away? What if—

“Stop thinking about all that crap!” He aims a pencil at you, making you flinch and curse under your breath as it hits your forehead. Right. He knows— after all he has known you since the college freshman year. “Are you sure you don’t hate him? How can you think such things about the person you like?!”

You lean back, sighing and frowning, proceeding to annotate the corners of your notebook with stars and moons and messy scribbles of question marks and circles, hoping that doodling on your notebook will give you a way out of this.

“I don’t think you can do this.” you look at him with your peripheral gaze as he continues. “Just give up.”

“Oh, shut up.” It’s not the first time Kuroo’s telling you to surrender, and it’s a joke every time it brings it up. You know you can’t give up, and he knows you won’t. And then a seemingly profitable plan hits your brain. “Okay, I’ll go, and then do whatever he wants me to do in the stream, and after it ends, I'll ask him on a date. How ‘bout that?”

You don’t know why Kuroo looks at you with concerned eyes.

“Y/n,” his hands rest on yours. “You think, like, twenty times before texting him a hi. What makes you think you can ask him on a date?”

You jerk his hand away. “And there I thought you were giving me moral support!” But no matter how much you deny it, you know Kuroo’s right. It’s funny and embarrassing to think you’re so in love with your best friend, you can’t keep up a conversation without having your feet turn cold. It has to be stamped as one of the cringiest things, you think, sounds like those leads in a Shoujo Manga. “And what if I ask him out without messing up, huh?”

Kuroo smirks confidently, knowing you’re just making empty assumptions. “Lunch on me this whole month, but only if you ask him out. I’ll ask Kenma so don’t you dare lie about it.”

And so you’re here, four hours later, in Kenma’s room, waiting while he prepares coffee for the two of you. Your gaze runs all over his room. The two rows full of video games on his shelf catch your eyes. It’s surprising how there’s always a new bunch whenever you visit. Below it are a few books about accounting and business stacking beside mechanical engineering— wait, why does he study engineering? You don’t put much thought into it and follow your gaze to his desk adorned by a photo frame with his family, and a picture of him and Kuroo ( seemingly back from their high school days ) with a cat they rescued from the local river. You’ve heard the sheep head brag about it so much that you can make it to the short stories section of a children’s magazine with it.

Then your eyes settle upon a certain polaroid peeking out of a stray notebook resting beside his monitor. It looks familiar, you think, and then you pull it out, only to place it on the table hastily as he enters the room. “Having fun?”

“I guess,” a smile climbs up his face voluntarily as he watches your lips curl into one too. “Didn’t know you still had this.”

“Of course. What kind of friend do you take me for?”

From that moment on, time seemed to flow like running water. You learn that he invited you an hour prior to the stream to spend time with you, and it does nothing but accelerate your heart infinitely. While he tells you about the stream— which was after numerous requests from you because he said it’s a secret and a surprise— you were busy admiring the way his eyes shone when talking about things he likes. ( and yet, every time, you fail to realize that his eyes shine even brighter when talking about you )

Another thing you learn is that the whole point of today’s stream is to introduce you to his fans because they’ve been asking him to do so ever since you accidently walked past his monitor, not realizing the camera was on, which was exactly six months ago. You knew it was a mistake, but now it feels like a sin. What if they don’t like you? What if they start attacking you like what happened to the friend of another streamer a few weeks ago? What if—

You hate to have all those what ifs plaguing your mind. But then, you remember Kuroo saying that Kenma will defend you no matter what, so you decide to hang onto that single string for the rest of the day. “What are we going to do, though? I’m sure the introduction isn’t the only thing on today’s list, is it?” you ask.

“Actually— it is.” He pauses, taking a sip from his coffee before proceeding further. “I’m too tired to play so let’s just do whatever and have fun.” He could hear Kuroo calling him a liar for that one.

The next ten minutes pass away in preparations and by the time you take a seat next to him in front of his computer, assuring yourself that you’ll be fine, you realize that stream has already started and you can see the comments flooding in, yet daring not to read them. Kenma nudges you from the side, reckoning you to say something, a silly smile dancing on his face.

“Oh, right— I’m y/n,” You begin, fiddling your fingers out of nervousness. “And, I’m Kenma’s friend—” you’re about to speak further but words get stuck in your throat as you feel his hands intertwined with yours from under the table, a gesture to let you know that you’re doing great and there’s no need to be nervous.

And then he doesn’t let it go for the rest of the stream, until you roll back your chair to grab your cell phone from his bed, which was only a minute later ( but the whole thing felt so timeless to you ) A wide yet nervous smile makes its way to your face as soon as you face away from the camera. You wonder if anyone noticed that little gesture you and Kenma shared, and if someone did then what are their thoughts. Even though it was short lived, his warmth lingers on your skin like winter morning dew, pleasing and satisfying.

You roll back to the screen, a certain comment catches your attention.

‘You both look adorable together !!’

Kenma fails to notice it, or so you think, but those five words are enough to get the butterflies in your stomach excited. Actually, butterflies aren’t even half equivalent to what you’re feeling. A zoo would be a better term, and just one comment made all those animals go crazy in love.

And then, another comment holds your gaze.

‘Y/n do you know Kenma talks about you a lot in his streams ?!?!?!’

Your heart feels as if it’s on fire. Turning your head towards him, you wonder if he noticed that comment, which he certainly did considering his fluttering gaze and red cheeks, wait— is he blushing ?!

“Uh, I mean y/n’s a close friend so it only makes sense for me to talk about them.” He clarifies nonchalantly, but from what you notice, he’s nervous. And he’s tapping his foot on the floor as if he’s writing college entrances again. It’s cute, and it makes you giggle like a toddler. Much to your surprise, Kenma's hand slides into yours again, and he’s pretending to not know, as if it’s unintentional, and as if his hand belongs to yours’. Even though you feel starstruck, and your heart feels like it’s going to stop any time soon, you relax into his little embrace, a shy smile flaunting on your face.

Kuroo was right, it’s not that hard.

The comments keep flooding in, this time faster than before. Half of them are asking if you both are dating ( and when you shake your head in denial, some of them say it’s a shame that you both aren’t a couple already ) Kenma doesn’t respond, and you wonder why. Instead, he sulks about how they’re supposed to be his friends, and not expose him in front of you, or how they all switched sides as soon as they saw you, which is why it took him six months to ask you if you wanted to join his stream. ( He can hear Kuroo calling him a liar, again )

You’re having a fun time watching the friendly banter between him and his fans, that is unless someone asks how you and Kenma met. And you realize it’s your time to carry the show. You take a look at Kenma who’s burying his face in his hand because your first meeting was utterly embarrassing, and you couldn’t wait to share it with around a million people.

“Y/n, no—”

“Y/n, yes!” You cut him off, mid sentence. That’s probably the first time you’ve been so excited this whole day, and as much as Kenma loves seeing that smile dangling on your face, he doesn’t want you to disclose that. “Kenma, do you know how long I’ve waited to tell your viewers about your stupid ass ?!”

He gasps dramatically, mumbling something along the lines of ‘how can you betray me’ as he pretends to get off his chair and leave the scene, only for you to pull his hand ( which was still laced in yours ) towards you and make him sit again. And the comments are going off with the ‘omg they were holding hands all this time???!!!’ and equivalent phrases but none of you seem to notice, for he was too busy getting away from the monitor while you grab his arm with both your hands, pinning him down to the chair before the air fills with your laughter.

“Really?” He deadpans, pulling his hands out of your grip. “After all the notes I've copied for you when you missed classes?”

You laugh at his silly actions, especially at the pout on his face that makes him look ten times prettier than he already is. You wonder if he knows the magic he casts on you, the way it makes you feel like a love struck cat. You almost forget the topic under discussion, your first meeting with him, but that’s until you see a comment loaded with pleases and words asking you to tell, no matter what.

“Alright, alright,” you lean back as if pleading for truce. And good for you because Kenma believes it a little too easily. “I won’t tell anyone that you almost spat water on me when we met for the first time.”

“Y/n, what the heck?!”

His expression is priceless. It’s the best day of your life— well everyday with Kenma is best but this one, specifically, is the best one of all. You inch towards the screen, reading the comments while Kenma covers his face with his hands, trying to hide his flushed face. ( You’re pretty sure he’s reading the comments either way )

But then he looks at you with eyes glistening with mischief. And you realize what’s going to follow. “In my defense, they wore a chicken outfit for handing out some flyers!”

“Kenma—”

He leans away from you, one hand holding up the keyboard to prevent you from terminating the stream while the other rests on your forehead, stopping you from getting any closer. “That’s what you get for—” A pause. The whole room goes quiet as you both realize the proximity in between. You retract yourself away from him, an awkward atmosphere enveloping you both as your eyes settle on the computer screen.

‘Oh my god, just date already!’

‘You both are so cute aaaa!’

‘Kenma fight anemo hypostasis with Xiao and ask out y/n if you lose challenge.’

You can feel your heart pounding so furiously, you’re afraid he’ll hear it. Honestly, you wonder how he hasn’t taken a hint about your huge crush on him, considering everyone in your friend circle— and even some of Kuroo’s friends too— know about your excruciatingly painful and droughtful love life. ( And for some reason, even Lev texts you once in every few days to ask whether you confessed to Kenma or not )

When no one addresses the elephant in the room for another few seconds, you decide to take the initiative. “Um, how about I order a take out?”

Then Kenma’s words follow along. “Actually, I have all the baking stuff from the last time.” You sigh. What did you even expect, for the Kenma Kozume to bake for himself, when his favorite task is to annoy you while you’re busy baking him delicacies? Not possible. He would’ve said further, but his eyes follow yours to the computer screen.

‘WAIT YOU BOTH ARE GOING TO COOK TOGETHER?!!?!! CUTE!!’

“I think we should order a takeout.” He suggests shyly, a smile climbing up your face at his actions, one that morphs into a chuckle as you mutter, ‘you’re so cute’ as if your face isn’t looking like a tomato itself.

You grab your phone and browse through the menu until you receive a call, the ID revealing your friend's name. You excuse yourself out of the room while Kenma buries his face in his hands again, his face turning redder than before. Your faint voice reaches his ears from behind the closed door of his room; he’s left wondering if your voice always felt like a melody when listened to from a distance.

There’s a soft smile on his lips. He doesn’t realize how it got there, or since when it has been residing. All he knows is that his heart is beating swiftly and maybe this time, he wouldn’t deny it. His ears perk up as the sound of you opening the door pulls him out of his dreamlands, eyes wide open at the sight of his computer because he almost forgot about the stream.

“I’m back!” You chime in, sitting next to him as you wave at the viewers. You look better than almost any horse before, when you were literally sweating out of nervousness, and honestly, Kenma loves to see you getting comfortable with things he likes. “Wait, do you guys know that Kenma cries during disney movies.?”

And even if Kenma likes you seeing you getting comfortable around him, he doesn’t mean he appreciates you exposing his habits and secrets to a million people. “You say it as if you don’t hind behind me while watc— wait,” His eyes zoom in at a comment as he proceeds to read it. “Kenma can I take y/n— no?! They’re mine, go look for someone else?!”

And here comes the heart palpitations.

The amount of times your heart has raced today should be enough to give you multiple heart attacks. Your eyes settle on Kenma, who looks a little too passive aggressive for someone who’s responding to a comment that’s a joke, and then his hands slide into yours again. This time, with a firm grip. While it may feel good, you hope it’s real, and that he’s not doing it for clout ( even though you know he, out of all people, doesn’t need any clout ) You hope that all the butterflies he gave you today mean something, because you’re sure you can’t handle these empty fluttering touches anymore.

The stream is long forgotten, and so are the viewers.

His gaze settles upon you, and you feel your heart doing somersaults as you feel his eyes travel down to your lips. And in the next second, before you know it, his lips are on yours, while the world seems to pause.

You don’t give it much thought— you couldn’t. Your brain feels misty and all you remember is that you’re kissing Kenma, the boy you’ve been in love with for so long. Instead, you tilt your head, kissing him back as he deepens the kiss. It feels like a cold breeze by the beach, you think, or maybe a warm blanket in winters. While you know the moment has to end, you don’t want his lips to leave yours.

Call it a jinx, but your eyes shoot open as you travel back to reality, remembering about the stream as you push him away before turning towards the computer with your flustered face. “I think we should end the stream here,” and you exit off Twitch just as quickly as Kenma logged in earlier today.

Then your eyes meet his, and words begin to fall out of his mouth. “Y/n, I’m sor—”

“I hope you meant it, Kenma.” That’s all you say. Actually, that’s all you could say, because it’s the only thing you wish for. He doesn’t reply, and you think it’s time to leave.

But then he ghosts up your hand, proceeding to cup your cheeks before inching dangerously closer to your face. “Trust me, I’ve been meaning to do it for over a year now.” And he connects your lips with his again.

taglist in the rbs.

#prod. — caelin.#album. — haikyuu.#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu kenma #kenma x reader #haikyuu long fic #kenma long fic #haikyuu fic #kenma fic #haikyuu fluff #kenma fluff #haikyuu headcanons #kenma headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #kenma drabbles #kenma kozume #hq kenma #hq fluff #hq fic

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boyfhees · 2 years

Text

⌕ MY LOVE MIX UP | h. iwaizumi

PRECIS. the chances of you confessing to your crush sums to zero when you realise you have to pretend to have a crush on iwaizumi, just to help your friend hide her feelings for him. ( 22.1k )

GENRE. fluff, humour, minor angst

WARNINGS. satirical mentions of dying and killing i'm sorry, one ( 1 ) break up but it isn't even real tbvh, reader is insecure, iwaizumi ( he deserves his own warning ) very cute at some point like you'd want to close the app ig, iwa is too good to be real ( he isn't real ) they're all second years. tatsuya and hayato are some random guys, kyoka is reader's best friend

NOTE. hi 😭 i originally wrote this for another fandom but had iwa in mind all the time so here's to him. ( if you've read the og pls ignore this i am not creative ) oikawa im sorry ( fr this was so hard to write as an oikawa kisser lawl ) happy reading. ps. very slightly inspired from kieta hatsukoi

“hey, pass me your eraser.” you whisper to kyoka, who was busy having her head in hands because of the maths practice question paper lying in front of her.

she deadpans, fetching a spare eraser from her pencil pouch. “you haven’t returned me the pen i lent you, yet,” but when have you ever returned her stuff you borrow, except a few times. she’s your best friend and there’s an unspoken rule that everything that belongs to her is yours, and vice-versa; even though she strongly disagrees.

you expect her to help you either way. call it the payments for all the times she has borrowed mangas and books from you, and never returned. it’s normal, the give and take in your friendship is astronomical. what you don’t expect is for the eraser to have a name written on it and wait— it’s someone from your class? because as far as you remember, the only ‘ih’ you and kyoka are familiar with, is iwaizumi hajime.

a sense of superiority floods your head as your lips curl into a menacing smirk. finally, some good news, and good enough for you to blackmail your best friend for a couple of months, at least. she’s not the type to confess without prior stressful, crying sessions, which takes quite some time. you’re so busy in your thoughts, you don’t notice falling down when iwaizumi turns around, passing you the question paper. moreover, you also fail to notice when iwaizumi picks it up and places it on your desk, until he turns back again with a surprised grimace.

“huh?”

you stare back in confusion. “what?”

“that eraser,” iwaizumi gulps, eyes fluctuating between you and the eraser in your hand, with visible panic evident on his face. “it had my name.”

“no, it doesn’t.” that’s a lie. “you’re mistaken.” he’s not.

no one wants to lie at nine in the morning, right before a practice test, especially to someone who you’ve never talked to in your whole life; unless people are crazy enough to lie pathologically as a passion. you, however, happen to do the same, in hopes he would believe you.

but iwaizumi is sure he saw his name on your eraser. not only his name, but a heart as well. ‘ih ♡’ that’s what it said, and he’s certainly assured that it’s for him.

“i’m not. i’m sure i saw my name,” at this point, none of you care about the practice test. he’s trying to prove his point while your mind is lost amongst the field of excuses, looking for the right one.

“no, you didn’t. you’re mistaken!” gaslighting is definitely not the right excuse but, that’s the best you came up with, in seconds. the look on his face tells you that he isn’t buying your words. you slowly feel the situation grip out of your hand, every second burdening on your shoulders as you hope for iwaizumi to give up and move on like nothing ever happened.

“then, show me the eraser,” iwaizumi demands, eyes fixed on you for a response. he trusts his instincts, he should, he isn’t lying. you don’t know him at all, but you know that if he wants something, he gets it, no matter that. “if i’m mistaken, then show it to me. i’ll check myself.”

and so he does, snatching the eraser from your fist as he looks at you with a knowing gaze. there’s amusement in his eyes, a glint of pink resting on his cheeks, but that’s from the winter cold.

“no way, yn, you like iwaizumi?” that’s tatsuya, and this shouldn’t be happening. you whip your head around, looking at him as he seizes the eraser from iwaizumi’s grip, taking a better look at it. “who would’ve expected?”

no one, exactly. you don’t even know iwaizumi. he’s just a classmate, someone who’s popular in the whole school but not in your eyes. you respect him for his grades and talent, but you’ve never paid him any attention. instead, your mind has always revolved around tatsuya, forever looking at him in a room full of angels, to put it in better words.

“listen, it’s not mine.” yeah, it’s better to not lie; not in front of tatsuya. why is he here in the first place? tatsuya sleeps through his days at school, no matter how important the classes are, and somehow still manages to score good marks. he’s a miracle, a work of art, epitome of intelligence and beauty, a true angel. your heart overflows with love for him.

“who does it belong to?” iwaizumi counters, and you don’t want to answer. honestly, you could do way better if tatsuya left but like a curious cat, his eyes hover over you for a response.

“it’s—” a pause. you can’t possibly disclose your friend’s feelings, that’d be unfair to her. and you, well, you have no option but to lie and save yourself a good friendship. “mine.”

you don’t look at iwaizumi’s face. you simply don’t have the courage to do that. so, you get to the practice question paper lying on your desk, reading through algebraic equations while your brain is enmeshed between maths, your friend, and the person you’re pretending to have a crush on; all in the presence of your actual crush.

you’re pretty sure you bombed the test royally.

there’s no way you’d score in double digits, for your brain was ( and still is ) busy distressing over the two biggest problems of your life. first, the boy you never talked to in the two years you spent as a highschool student, believes you have a crush on him; and second, your actual crush also believes you have a crush on iwaizumi.

great, things couldn’t have been any better. moreso, out of all the people, it’s iwaizumi. you don’t hate him; god, you don’t think you can ever. he’s too nice, almost as a saint. probably the nicest person you’ve met till. he treats every girl he rejects, as an ‘apology’. which may be a good thing since he doesn’t seem to like you, so it’s a free treat for you, but that’s besides the point.

he’s so nice, you feel bad for lying to him. confessions may not surprise him anymore but the look in his eyes explained that he took every word you said to his heart. see, that’s the problem with excessively good people. you can’t lie to them, and if you do then the guilt corrupts your head, constantly making you feel bad about yourself.

he’s warm, friendly, enthusiastic, outgoing, easy to please. he’s quick to show appreciation, yet accepts without judgement or criticism, the human weakness of others. that’s iwaizumi to everyone in the school, including teachers and staff.

“hey,” you greet awkwardly, eyeing the students in the hallway to make sure no one is gossiping. mayhaps, you’re overthinking but iwaizumi is pretty popular and you’d rather not get involved with him. “let’s talk.”

now, iwaizumi doesn’t know why he needs to follow you to the terrace. you can talk right here, in class, or near the volleyball gym for the lack of better space. anywhere, but terrace. though, iwaizumi doesn’t refute. he follows you closely, as if you’ve casted a spell on him. iwaizumi doesn’t harbour romantic feelings for you, he’s sure, and had it been someone else, he would’ve already turned them down. no ‘let’s talk,’ and no ‘following them to terrace,’— but you, for some reason, make it harder for him to be his typical self and follow his classic rules.

you shut the door, looking around to check for unwanted presence on the terrace. this is easy, it has to be easy, you have a plan. it’s simple; you’ll tell him that this whole situation is nothing but a massive misunderstanding. you don’t have feelings for him, the ‘ih’ with heart on the eraser is actually izumi hashima— and you don’t know who izumi hashima is but you’re going to lie again, and say she’s your best friend’s older sister who you had taken a liking to as an elementary school student. it sounds perfect in your head, dodging all pits of failure.

“so, about the eraser—”

“i don’t like you,” iwaizumi blurts out, interrupting you in between while you stare at him wide eyed because this was not in the plan. “i mean, i do like you but not in that way. you seem like a good person, we can get to know each other and. . .”

rest all is a blur. you don’t focus on his words, for you’re too busy admiring him, platonically. not only has he got a handsome face and smart, wrinkly brain, but he’s painfully kind. if kindness was a crime, he’d get a death penalty. no wonder, the students in your school treat him like a god, and would make him their new religion at any given moment, if offered the opportunity to. “ah, so this is why it’s so easy to fall for you,”

you can’t believe you just mumbled that out loud; and even if you did, you’d like you believe you didn’t, until you saw his flabbergasted grimace. “it’s not how it sounds!” right, you think he’d believe you after your silly little confession. you sigh, giving up before you make it harder for you to sort this out. “just— forget any of this happened, okay?”

“are you sure?” iwaizumi counters.

“yes, very sure.” infact, you haven’t been sure-er about anything else till date. “and, don’t tell anyone either.”

that’s a peculiar request. well, for someone who gave closures to rejection using meals, iwaizumi doesn’t know what is right in this situation. his plan was to treat you this evening as an apology, but you rather possess a different request. you want him to pretend like this never happened, and iwaizumi wonders if it’s so much easier to discard your feelings. “why do i feel like you’re going to cry when you get home?”

“i won’t, and even i do, that's my problem. just, don’t bring this up ever again,” you didn’t mean to lash out, but frustration gets the best of you, and you don’t want to spend another minute apologising or rather, striking a conversation with him. “if you have nothing more to say, i’ll leave first.”

you simply walk out, without giving him any opportunity to speak. today has been crazy. iwaizumi still hasn’t processed the entirety of the prior events. how did you even fall for him? he knows he has quite an attractive face and a very intricately built physique. however, looks are secondary to interactions, and you’ve never really talked to him until today.

perhaps, it was when he lent you his umbrella, or when he lent you his notes, or when he thanked you for helping him in art class. it has to be one of those because none of you have ever talked besides those three times.

he doesn’t get it, is it easy for people to fall for someone just because of looks? or to put it in your words, is it really easy to fall for him? most importantly, do you not mind disregarding your feelings and asking him to forget it? it’s strange, and while he would eventually end up forgetting it, he doesn’t understand why you’re so . . . unbothered.

iwaizumi has met all sorts of people. the ones who follow him around to get attention, ones who confess and guilt trip when rejected, ones who deliberately throw themselves at him, ones who understand and move on, but you don’t fit any of those categories. you don’t fit his definition of admirers and even though it may seem like he’s overthinking, he’s not. iwaizumi doesn’t know why he cares so much. in fact, you’ve made it easier for him to handle this ordeal. he doesn’t need to spend his money on you to shut your mouth and not talk about anything related to their confession to anyone. ( you see, that’s the reason why no one ever hears a news about iwaizumi being confessed to again, unless someone is brave enough to give a public confession )

he kicks the stray stone lying around on his way back home, hands in his pockets while the thought of you keeps bothering him constantly. he has way too many questions and absolutely no time to waste, however, upon much consideration, a conclusion lands on the palm of his hands — it feels like you’re rejecting iwaizumi, despite being the one to confess first, and god, you don’t know how much that irks him.

“yn, you’ll be late if you spend another minute fixing your hair!” your mother shouts from the kitchen and honestly, that’s the plan: getting late and skipping school. you don’t have a reason, well you do, but it lacks the logical aspects.

the reason— iwaizumi. did he turn you down? yes. did you tell him to forget it? yes. do you trust him? no. despite being one of the nicest guys to ever walk on earth, iwaizumi doesn’t look trustable. you’re afraid he would’ve spread the news to everyone, his friends, your friends, you’re scared so much that you haven’t opened group chats ever since you woke up. besides, there’s tatsuya. he practically lives for drama. tatsuya is a soul of honesty, but unfortunately, he has a sneaky, thievish, sinister look— making it harder for you to trust him entirely.

despite your subtle attempts, your mother ends up kicking you out of the house before you delay even more. for a brief second, you consider skipping school and spending the whole day watching movies or something. you’re down, almost, until you hear a familiar voice chanting your name from a distance.

“you’ve been avoiding me since yesterday,” kyoka pants, hands on your shoulder to prevent you from running away again.

“uh, i have?” you shoot her a crooked smile, trying to think of a convincing excuse. you’ve been so busy amongst your thoughts that you forgot about her. “by the way, your eraser—”

“oh, you saw it, didn’t you?” she mumbles, averting her gaze to a cat passing by as you both enter the school premises. “i like him so much but i’m scared to confess.”

“it’s okay, you have my support,” you should be scared, you want to say. while, that’s not how a supportive friend must react, considering iwaizumi’s history with confessions, everyone should be scared of confessing to him. talking about iwaizumi, you don’t spot him anywhere, which is actually a good thing. maybe he called in sick, or even better, changed schools, even though it makes no sense.

the first class goes just fine and you thank the higher deities for it. unfortunately, or fortunately enough, tatsuya didn’t come to school as well. maybe, both him and iwaizumi met up and shat on you but it’s fine, as long as others don’t know about it. maybe, it’s not as fine as it seems since your eyes are burning to see tatsuya.

god must really be on your side because you haven’t seen iwaizumi all day, and neither have you come across even a speck of gossip about yesterday’s events. his seat remained empty in front of you as you unknowingly spent the whole day thinking about him. perhaps, you’re worried; is he the one crying at home? that’s unlikely. you decide to skip your last class and move to the terrace, enjoying the cold breeze from last night’s showers.

standing here, by the edge of the terrace, makes you feel like a main character; as if you have a perfect life, and a perfect lover, and a perfect future to grasp, it’s premeditated, yet interesting. even though none of it is true, a person can dream. it seems way to perfect until you’re pulled back by a hand around your arm, almost stumbling. before you’re framed against the wall beside you.

“what do you think you’re doing?!” fantastic. suddenly, you don’t want to be the main character anymore because there’s iwaizumi, and you’re standing close to him, very close, so close that you can feel his breath fan over your face. “are you crazy? do you really plan to end your life over something so trivial?!”

you panic because of the close proximity, stomping on his foot as he yells, stepping away from you. “what are you talking about because i don’t plan on dying anytime soon, iwaizumi hajime!”

a pause, everything goes silent. you hear the breeze, you have one of the prettiest boys of your school crouching in front of you because you stepped on his foot deliberately. this seems like the perfect setup for a marriage and a murder, and you’re heavily considering the latter.

“wait you aren’t—”

“no, i’m not dying and why are you even here? i thought you called in sick or something.”

“we had a game. i thought tatsuya told you,” he clarifies, standing up while shooting you a sour look. as for tatsuya, he happens to be the manager for the men’s volleyball team. it’s funny because oikawa picked him over fifteen other girls who applied, all because of two reasons: first, he’s on good terms with tatsuya and second, it’s better to have a guy try to get on your nerves rather than a girl fangirling over the crew. besides, it’s a win for tatsuya too, who does nothing but sleep at school. “i always come to the terrace after a game.”

he adds, and you wonder if it’s a good thing to have in common with him. again, you don’t trust him because you’ve never seen him on the terrace; and you happen to be the official resident of your highschool terrace, so notorious that you’ve also received detention for invading prohibited boundaries.

“i also come here, sometimes,” you mean multiple times, everyday. why you’re here talking with iwaizumi is beyond your comprehension, but for some reason, you’re not against it. it doesn’t feel forced or frustrating. in fact, his presence is rather calm, and you think it’s because he’s tired from his match. “so, did you win?”

“by 3-2, yes. i’m starting to hate metre spikes, though, for some reason.” that sounds awfully familiar. you’re not accustomed with volleyball terminologies, however tatsuya happens to vent to you about the same every now and then. it’s funny for iwaizumi to hate dinks, despite being a spiker himself. besides, you’ve heard a few people talk about how iwaizumi apparently loves metre spikes.

“that’s—” he proceeds to speak, interjected by footsteps approaching the rooftop.

“iwaizumi—” oh, no. you knew things were going too well to be true. “ooh, okay, i’m sorry for interrupting you two love birds but cap’ needs you downstairs, ‘iwa. be quick.” tatsuya has awful timing. he could’ve been the person to think you’re planning to jump and save you but no, he had to arrive much later, right when you and iwaizumi are standing next to each other, looking like decent friends or rather, like ‘love birds’ in tatsuya’s eyes.

he winks at your ‘boyfriend’ and you die a little on the inside. tatsuya is more excited about you and iwaizumi than the two of you. honestly, excited isn’t even the right word for you both. you just want to stay away from him and iwaizumi, well, whatever the hell he has going on with him.

“you should go,” that’s the best you can come up with, to end the conversation. you don’t need him around, that was the original plan. to ignore him, and have him ignore you. you know iwaizumi isn’t responsible for this misunderstanding between you and tatsuya. however, you can’t help but criticise him in the back of your mind.

“yn,” he calls out, though slightly quieter than usual with a hint of hesitation in his voice. “about your confession, i think rejecting you was unfair. so, let’s get to know each other first, and then i’ll give a final response.”

what. just what in the world— okay, you’re calm, you’re trying to be calm. you hear his footsteps fade away as he bids you goodbye with a soft ‘see you around’ and no, you strongly disagree. you don’t want to see him anywhere near you, not when tatsuya is convinced that you’re dating iwaizumi and you’re trying to come up with ways to break the truth to him.

you see, you have abilities to do miracles, like creating more problems for yourself while trying to solve one. it’s funny how you arrived to school delightfully, knowing the two boys who can possibly fuck up your life are absent, only to go back home with a fake ‘boyfriend’ thanks to yourself.

YOU'RE CONSIDERING changing schools, really.

ignoring iwaizumi doesn’t help. he’s too hashtag deep into getting to know you better that he accompanies you almost everywhere. your mornings for the past three days have been commencing with iwaizumi and ending with him as well. moreso, you have people looking at you while you commute through school as if you’re on a red carpet. you wake up and greet your a couple hundred new followers on instagram who have you added in a group called ‘iwaizumi shrine.’ it makes sense. the school's most popular boy, who has never shown interest in anyone, suddenly started talking to you and acting like you’re his top priority. it makes completely, hundred percent sense. you’d be curious too if your favourite celebrity suddenly started hanging out with some random person.

it’s like a revolution and you don’t want to be a part of it.

“tired?” kyoka asks, sitting next to you by the track field. “looks like you’ve gotten busier.”

yeah, you have, and the pain is visible on your face. you want to get back to the days when people paid you no mind and continued with their life. waking up to a bunch of notifications and post-it notes on your locker, asking for iwaizumi’s number or one of his exclusive pictures is draining you out; and surprisingly, you don’t have iwaizumi’s number in the first place. “kyoka, help me,” you whine, leaning onto her shoulders as she shoves you away.

“i’m sure the gossip will die down in a few days,” enjoy the fame while you can, yes. you know she was going to add that too. however, this isn’t fun. as much as you’re enjoying this special treatment from iwaizumi, it feels as if you’re walking on eggshells; like your life resonates between the flight of bumblebee and hall of mountain king as your theme songs.

besides, kyoka likes iwaizumi and you’re practically deceiving her. even though she knows you and iwaizumi as just friends, that’s simply what you wanted her to know. she doesn’t know he’s trying to get to know you better for the sake of a relationship, or that iwaizumi knows about the eraser but he thinks you have a crush on him instead of kyoka.

it’s a mess, and it’s hard trying not to break someone’s heart. she doesn’t know the truth. she doesn’t even know you have a date with iwaizumi after school.

“whatever, are you going to audition for that cinderella play?” oh, right. you forgot about it. you don’t have a picturesque memory either way and iwaizumi is simply making it harder for you to focus on things that are not him. you’re sure kyoka would say something along the lines of ‘you’re down bad,’ if you ever told her about your dilemma, and honestly, you are. you are down bad to escape iwaizumi, get out of his life or just get him out of yours; whichever is faster and easier.

“are you?” you counter as a football rolls near your legs, your eyes following the player following it shortly. it’s iwaizumi, and he— wait, he plays volleyball, so why is he on the field playing in the football team? whatever, it’s none of your business anyway. you pass the ball, a soft thank you slips off his lips as he runs away. a pause, you are getting ideas and maybe, maybe iwaizumi is about to become your business if you put enough effort into it. “do you think iwaizumi will audition for prince charming?”

you see her smirk as he nudges your shoulders. “why, are you planning to be his cinderella?”

“what? ew, no,” okay, maybe the ew was an exaggeration. though, the thought of you being cinderella when he’s prince charming makes you want to puke. “i’m just asking because he’s the most suitable candidate. besides, you can audition for cinderella.”

oh, you feel so smart for coming up with the plan : have them casted, they kiss and fall in love. probably the smartest you’ve ever been. cupid has a competition and it’s you.

“why would i audition for cinderella if—” she pauses, lips curling into a smile as her eyes set on something behind you. kyoka doesn’t waste another moment, proceeding to stand up and pat the dust off her uniform. “senior,”

you feel the air around you shift.

“hope i’m not interrupting something,” she’s quick to shake her head in denial, the smile never leaving her lips while you witness the whole scene from the sidelines. “i was hoping you’d audition for cinderella in the play. no pressure, just that your performance was great in last year’s play,”

“ah, of course, i would. are you audi—”

a frown sets on her face as the supposed ‘senior’s’ phone rings. you feel the air shift, yet again. “i have to answer this. see you in the club room later!”

“see you!” you’re not sure what you saw. kyoka, your friend, the kyoka who’s known for decking people in her first year switched personalities like it was her favourite colour. “turns out, i’m auditioning,”

yeah no, you couldn’t care less about the senior or the personality shift. at least, he made your job a tad bit easier. now, all you need to do is convince iwaizumi.

“do you need something?” iwaizumi asks, grabbing his earphones from the locker. now, how do you explain that you need him to audition for prince charming’s role so that you can set him and your friend up?

“oh, nothing? i was just curious about what you were doing,” and iwaizumi hajime is actually gullible enough to buy that. honestly, your excuse is not baseless, considering how you both are in the ‘talking stage’ of the relationship. “have you heard about the auditions for the cinderella play?”

he nods, closing his locker. “yes, matsukawa is one of the hosts. why do you ask?”

“uhh, i was wondering if you’d like to audition for prince charming?” you could’ve voice it better. you know, more confident, making it sound less like you’re plotting something. you’re in no state to answer any questions, if he ever asks.

he blinks, and then blinks again. a few seconds bask in silence and you’re ready to apologise but iwaizumi beats you to it. “will you audition for cinderella?”

as proven, you’re in no state to answer questions, especially that one. why would you even audition for cinderella? first of all, you can’t act to save your life. second of all, even if you could, you wouldn’t audition when iwaizumi is the most probable candidate for the main lead. “why do you ask?”

“i’ll register if you audition for cinderella,” nah, ain’t no way iwaizumi hajime just did that and walked away like he didn’t just flip your head upside-down. you turn around, watching him waltz through the hallways like king louis xvi or something. at this point, you’re simply resisting the urge to yell at him.

you almost give up. almost.

you’ll get a number of opportunities to set him and kyoka up together, maybe the luck isn’t on your side. moreover, iwaizumi is the only suitable candidate for prince charming in your eyes. there’s no way the theatre club is accepting someone else if a man like him is breathing among the peasants. so, in the end, they will cast him no matter what. yes, you’re right, they will.

but what if they don’t? you hate your mind for holding onto that question and making it your living crisis but truthfully, you have this situation under your control. all you have to do is audition and surprise, iwaizumi’s already casted. besides, you do feel bad for backing off when you can literally save everyone some time and help them for your greater good.

all you have to do is audition, it’s easy, like a cakewalk, taking a lollipop from a kid. maybe not the last one since, kids these days are animalistic ( you’ve heard a few barking on streets ) it’s still easy, very easy.

you can do it.

yes, you can do it.

you have another plan. all you have to do is go to the stage and give the most mind-rotting, heart-stopping, life-ruining audition ever. you have to unleash the unskilled actor inside you, make it look like you can do anything but act. you have to drag the cinderella role around and make it seem like even the one playing as the tree in the backdrop is a better actor than you.

yes, it’ll leave you embarrassed. you’ll actually have to switch schools, probably; but it’s fine, as long as iwaizumi gets the prince charming role.

“alright, next.” one of the club heads announce and surprisingly, the senior from earlier today is present as well. you watch the participant walk up the stage and god, everyone auditioning for cinderella looks drop dead gorgeous. “kim tatsuya, you’re auditioning for cinderella?”

“yes.” he replies.

“why?”

“do you think there’s anyone else who fits the role more than me?” you almost scoffed out loud. the confidence? the charm? the smirk on his face? he fits the role of evil step mother more than cinderella. while waiting for your turn, you search for kyoka, remembering you haven’t seen her in the club room at all. a part of you wonders if she dipped— even though she isn’t like this— you couldn’t help but worry about your whole plan going down the drain.

you excuse yourself out of the club room, halting by the neighbouring classroom when you see a familiar figure sitting by the teacher’s desk. “kyoka?” turns out it’s actually her, and you release the breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding in for a while now. “what’s wrong?”

despite doing everything for your own good, you couldn’t help but worry about her. kyoka is perhaps the most self-righteous person you’ve ever met, in a good way. she’s confident in herself, she knows what she’s capable of and what not. she’s not afraid to try, even if she thinks it’s beyond her limits. so, seeing her all alone like this, it felt just like failing a test of a subject you’ve mastered.

she looks into your eyes, a hint of hesitation settling on her face. “yn, i’m scared. everyone here is so good.” you want to laugh, not the right timing, but you want to.

“no, stop. you’re better. you received the best female lead award last year, you can do it.” you assure, and it’s really funny coming from someone who’s probably the best candidate for cinderella’s role, saying that she’s scared. you wouldn’t say other participants auditioning are unskilled, neither do you know if there’s anyone out there who’s better than her. however, little do you know that your performance is definitely going to make her confidence fall back at her feet for kyoka to pick it up.

“yn, they’re calling you inside.” one of the club members informs you. a sigh spins into the air as you look at your friend, nodding as she shoots you an assuring smile. you can do it. you’re going to give your worst.

“yn— oh, you’re kyoka’s friend!” the club president exclaims as soon as you step in front of perform and ironically, it’s the senior; something hayato, as his jacket says. “i’m looking forward to your performance.”

yeah, no don’t. you don’t want anyone to look forward to anything you’re going to do for the next five minutes or so. this is about your reputation, your dignity, your highschool life, and everything else. and, how you had dreamt of a highschool life like in those movies, peaceful like quilts falling on glistening water; but, after all, movies are just movies. real life is much different, because right now you’re going to embarrass yourself in front of everyone for your best friend and the guy she likes.

“i’ll start,” you shook an awkward smile, a deep breath, it’s now or never. “here . . . kitty kitty kitty kitty . . . c’mon kitty . . .” a pause, your voice dies of shame and regrets. “Lucifer! come here—” that was so loud, you practically see a few people flinch.

“wait, wait,” one of the judges interjects, shuffling through their script. “which scene are you enacting?”

you cock your face to your left, awkwardly. “the opening scene?”

hayato sighs. he’s probably regretting looking forward to your performance. “no no, do that one. the one with the prince, where cinderella runs away.”

you get in stance, clearing your throat for another life-threatening performance. “oh . . . but i must go—”

“stop,” the judges interrupt again and this time, you’re fueling with anger. maybe if they didn’t want you to perform, they shouldn’t have added your name in the first place. “yn, there’s the passion?”

“i’m giving my everything, tatsuya.” what a liar.

“you aren’t giving shit.” tatsuya deadpans, rolling his eyes as you stand with your hands on your hips as if you’ve just served an oscar worthy performance. “you sound dead inside, as if you didn’t want to go to the ball in the first place.” no he’s right, you didn’t want to. you’re the only cinderella in the whole world who wants to avoid the ball and the prince, at all cost. you are, in fact, dead inside.

“alright, let’s try again—”

“no, thank you.” you refuse, or more like, take your time and try your shot at getting out of this place right now. “that’s all i had. i hope i get selected.” funny, very funny. only fools would select someone as talented as you for a play that’s supposed to be streamed live on the school's youtube account.

you rush your way outside the club room, ignoring the giggles and murmurs that followed. it’s fine, you anticipated this and brought this upon yourself. you don’t know why you feel bad, though. maybe because everyone is making fun of you, or perhaps, it’s kyoka and how she’s finally going to get the role; happy tears, for sure. or maybe, it’s because of iwaizumi. maybe you expected him to be there, no matter how ugly and unclassy your performance was. after all, you did it for him. he asked you to audition, and for someone who wants him out of their life, you sure are more upset than you should be.

“i was looking for you,” you look up in the direction of the voice, eyes residing upon iwaizumi as he hands you a bottle of water before standing next to you, by the classroom window. “i thought you wanted to watch kyoka’s performance.”

you chuckle. you don’t need to be there to know she’d do great. you just know it. she has always been the ideal student and it’s for a reason. “i know she’ll do amazing, as always.”

“are you jealous?” it’s a question that catches you off guard. you don’t know where it came from, or what made him think you’re jealous of kyoka. she has a lot of qualities, and honestly, you have wished for wanting to be like her; but jealousy is not the right word. “sorry, that didn’t sound right. but, you did your best, too. it was good.”

you laugh, and it’s probably the only genuine one so far today. ‘doing your best,’ it’s funny. you know you could’ve done better, you are better, but you did it for your friend, for him. you don’t know if iwaizumi means his word. you’re not sure if he actually found your performance good or if he’s consoling you just for the sake of it. it’s probably the latter, however, you’re thankful for it, even if it’s just fake comfort.

“thanks?” yeah, it’s just fake. after all, everything so far is fake. the confession, the rejection, it sounds scripted. maybe, this is the most you and iwaizumi have talked till date. you do want to stay away from him, you still do, but today can be an exception. “are we still down for today?”

you didn’t mean to ask that. you don’t know why you asked that, but when you notice the corner of his lips curl up, you realise that it was the right move. “the date? of course.”

thinking about it now, you haven’t seen iwaizumi smile. well, you have, but not with you. not like you are a reason for him to smile, but you’d be lying if you say you don’t find his smile pretty. it’s adorable, especially the way his nose scrunches up and the way his eyes close completely when he grins. it’s cute, you think, and then find yourself too stunned to think further when you realise you just called him cute inside your head.

“uh, i’ll go.” yeah, it’s better to leave. you’re losing your mind after talking to him. god knows what made you think staying around iwaizumi was a good idea.

“yn,” he calls your name, having you turn around to look at him. “see you later.” and lord, your heart might’ve just done something unspeakable.

it’s arrhythmia.

you’re sure it’s arrhythmia because ain’t know why you’re experiencing increased heartbeats all of a sudden. you’re glad you had only half the classes or you would’ve fainted. to be honest, your current stance isn’t any better. you’re here outside school, waiting for iwaizumi to come so that you can go to the cafe together for your silly little ‘date.’ you can’t believe you had to lie to kyoka about it.

on another note, he’s late. you’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes. you didn’t know school’s heartthrob has no punctuality. you wonder if the teachers would get upset if they know that their favourite boy makes his date wait for over fifteen minutes. you’re about to give him a call when your phone rings inside your pocket and coincidently, it’s a call from him.

“hi yn, i’m sorry for being la—”

“hello to you too mr. iwaizumi hajime.” you cut him off, slight mockery evident in your tone as you feel him hesitate on the other side. “if i may remind you, we have a date.”

you hear him sigh through the phone. “i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t know the coach would hold us back for extra practice. if you want, i can try asking to leave early.”

“no, please. i’m joking. you don’t have to skip practice for me,” you smile, pacing around the school exit. well, normally you would’ve been feral but logically, it would be a waste for him to skip practice for a date that isn’t even real. “i’ll go home. we can go out some other day,”

“no wait, yn. at least let me walk you home,” that’s completely, totally, certainly, unasked for. you don’t know whether you should be happy or sad, or going crazy and dancing in the middle of the road. “we had to cancel our date so let me make it up to you. do you mind waiting for another fifteen minutes?”

“no.” it’s a quick response, one that leaves you surprised at yourself. you do mind waiting. it’s getting dark, you don’t know why you said you didn’t, and that too fifteen minutes. even so, you can’t bring yourself to say the truth.

“great. i’ll be there soon,” you feel him smile through his words, reciprocating a smile back without your knowledge. “wait for me.”

and so you do. you could’ve waited in the library or some nearby cafe or the volleyball gym itself. however, you stayed where you were : by the exit. of course, you’ve had a fair share of students and passers-by shoot you with varied looks of concern, but you successfully fooled them by pretending to be on a call, or so you think. it’s crazy how you’re here wasting time on a boy you want out of your life. you hate how you’ve only known iwaizumi for a little over four days and discovered parts of you that you never knew existed before.

you wouldn’t say you like him, but he’s not a bad guy either. iwaizumi was never the wrong option in your eyes, honestly. he’s simply not the right one for you. there are differences that you can’t ignore, and certain things about him that you loathe. for example, how time seems to pass slowly when he’s not around.

“yn!” finally. an involuntary smile makes its way to your lips as you hear a familiar voice approaching you from a distance. “did i make you wait for too long?”

you chuckle, looking at iwaizumi, who’s panting for air. his hair is in a mess, the chains on his bag aren't fully done, and from looking at the bottle in his hands, you realise he didn’t even drink water after practice. “i don’t know, you tell me.”

“i’m sorry,” your smile grows bigger at his soft apology.

you pat his shoulders, navigating through the streets illuminated by dim street lamps. “it’s okay, i was joking.”

“by the way, i got selected for prince charming’s role.” suddenly, your smile vanishes into thin air. you don’t know why that happened. in fact, you should be happy. kyoka and iwaizumi acting together in the play, it’s what you’ve wished for the whole day. this is what you sacrificed your reputation for and yet for some reason, you find yourself forcing a smile at him. “and kyoka as cinderella.”

“isn’t that amazing? she’s good at what she does,” it’s not a lie and sungoon knows that. if there’s something you’ve learnt about her over the years, it’s her sheer determination. you snicker, thinking about the morning when kyoka said she was ‘scared’ to audition. looking back at it now, maybe that was just a prank to mock you, even though she would never do that. it truly is amazing, watching the prince charming and cinderella come together. “you both look really good together.”

on other days, you would have regretted saying that. however, today you don’t have any plans on taking it back. what’s true is true, and there’s no point denying it. “i wouldn’t be surprised if you both receive the best actor and actress this year,” another forced smile, another wave of suspicion passes over iwaizumi. “you know, for the couple event at the school festival, you should participate with her. she’s really good at games, just like you. besides, she thinks you’re cool so—”

“what about you?” the question leaves you speechless, fiddling with your fingers as you bite your inner cheeks while thinking of a response. “what do you think about me?”

god, it’s back, the arrhythmia.

at this point, you don’t even care about the question. you’re worried that if iwaizumi kept staring at you like this, you’d pass out. “me, uh, why does it matter?”

“it does. it matters to me.” you can’t defend yourself anymore. iwaizumi knows his way around with words. he doesn’t talk much, but he says a lot in the way his eyes look at you. though, unable to interpret his gaze, you find yourself experiencing a funny feeling in your chest as your face heats up alarmingly. “why do you keep recommending kyoka to me? you don’t like me anymore?”

once again, you’re taken aback. you can’t tell the truth, and you don’t want to lie. so, you simply recite the facts. “i mean, i do but, isn’t kyoka better? she has good grades, she’s pretty, she’s good in extracurricular activities, she's everything that i’m not. why do you even bother going out with someone like me?” maybe, that’s a lot of facts in one. it hurts for you to say those words, but at the end of the day, it’s true. being with iwaizumi wouldn’t change the fact that kyoka deserves him more than anyone else in the whole world.

“she’s not you,” he gulps and for the first time, you sense fear in his voice. you don’t know why, you just do. “she gets good grades, she’s good in extracurricular activities but she’s not you. and i like you, not her. so, don’t even use the ‘someone like me’ phrase for yourself ever again.”

before you realise, you’re already in front of your house. actually, you’ve been standing here for around ten minutes, just too lost in each other to even notice. you’re not sure if you process his words completely or correctly. all you know is that you’ve made a mistake, and now his words are stuck inside your head. he mutters a faint goodbye before proceeding to walk away, leaving you with all the uneasy feelings intoxicating your heart.

“by the way,” he says, making you flinch a little as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt while awaiting his words. “you are beautiful.” and then all you can recall is falling for the boy who never belonged to you in the first place.

AFTER MUCH consideration, you’ve reached the conclusion that you haven’t fallen for iwaizumi. your heart is skipping beats because of arrhythmia and you’re persuading your mom to get you an appointment.

you simply can’t fall for iwaizumi. he’s way out of your league ( see, you’re not shy to admit that ) besides, you don’t know each other. you don’t know about him but to you, iwaizumi is just an ideal classmate, or a close acquaintance, at most. moreover, here comes the best friend’s code : you can’t crush on your best friend’s crush, let alone date. you sleep with your guilt plagued mind everyday, knowing you and iwaizumi are in ‘love’ behind your best friend's back.

“yn,” you feel a push towards your shoulders, driving you out of your thoughts to find tatsuya looking at you with concern written all over his face. “what are you thinking?”

you shake your head. “nothing,” another lie. well, you’ve been lying a lot recently. you don’t remember creating high walls of lies around you in just a few days, with only iwaizumi knowing the way in, but again he’s looking at another lie you’ve made him believe.

“take a break if you need to. the play will start in a few minutes,” right, the play. you’re excited to see iwaizumi and kyoka steal the show. you’re dying to see them receive best actors award for the night. you’re dying to have the annual school magazine print their picture on the front page. you’re excited for them, or so you tell yourself.

it’s embarrassing to know that somewhere inside, you feel a little bitter about the whole crew picking iwaizumi without any recrutionary procedure. you don’t think he’s a bad actor, god, you can never. you haven’t seen him act but there’s nothing that boy can’t do. there’s a rumour spinning about how his mother was one of the best actors in Tokyo's best theatre crew. though, you don’t know how much of it is true.

but, that’s beyond the point. you don’t need to find his family history to know that he’s talented in all aspects. it’s crazy how similar iwaizumi and kyoka are. you’re about to discard all those thoughts and continue with the procedure until you hear the commotion in the hallway.

“we have— oh my god, yn, thank god you’re here.” matsukawa takes a breath of relief, walking towards you with a hopeful stare. “iwaizumi has sprained his leg, we need a replacement.”

now, that isn’t the issue you want to deal with around ten minutes before the play. “what am i supposed to do about it?”

“do you know someone who can fit the role?” he questions further.

you’d be lying if you say you’re actually thinking of someone as a replacement, for your brain is too busy worrying about iwaizumi as his injury. call it the godsent timing, because just then, your eyes fall upon the boy standing across the room. “how about hayato?”

“what? who, me? no,” he declines with an awkward laugh. “i have terrible stage fear. i’m sure no one wants to see a prince charming with overflowing anxiety.” yeah no, he’s right. besides, kyoka will be upset to know that not only is she working with a substitute prince charming, but also, he has chronic anxiety.

“but they want a handsome prince charming.” matsukawa isn’t half wrong either. they never held auditions for prince charming, proceeding to pick iwaizumi as if the rest of the population is a joke. hence, the audience doesn’t care about skills, but rather, the looks. “just practise your scenes. we’ll pre-record your lines and schedule the play as the closing show.”

matsukawa turns to look at you. “yn, can you please—”

“i’m sorry, do you know where iwaizumi is?” the question falls off your lips almost immediately, without giving him any chance to speak. you hear something along the lines of ‘school backyard’ as a response and sprint as if it’s the race for your life.

it’s basic human decency, you presume. had it been someone else, someone you haven’t even seen, you would still run, almost tripping and bumping into people. you would still grab a bunch of bandages and relief sprays from the medkit in the staff room if this were about someone else. it’s not just iwaizumi, you tell yourself. he’s not special, especially to you.

“geez, did you forget to walk to something?” you snicker as soon as you spot him sitting by the stairs, browsing through what looked like twitter at the slight glance you managed to steal.

iwaizumi chuckles. “you look tired.”

“yeah, i ran here from the other side of the school and almost tripped thrice on my way here.” you feel him snicker at the irritation in your voice while you take a look at his ankles and start dressing— by the way, you notice that he has pretty toenails; and after recalling how pretty his fingers look, it makes you wonder if he gets his mani-pedi done every week or so. “gosh, do teachers know that their favourite student can’t even walk to save his life?”

“are you worri—”

“of course, i am!” and then a pause; iwaizumi flaunts a taunting smirk in your direction and you realise how punchable his face looks. “i mean, anyone would be worried. what if it's a fracture instead? they treat you like a national treasure, everyone will go crazy.”

you’re not wrong.

everyone in the school, or even outside the institutional premises if possible, treasures iwaizumi more than their lives. you still remember the day minhee took the blame on her after iwaizumi accidently broke the principal’s bonsai, only for him to thank her by saying that she’s like his younger sister. long story short, there are numerous tales about people vouching for him and what not— it’s exhausting. the point is how big of a breaking news it would be when his ‘fans’ will know that iwaizumi hurt himself and won’t be attending school for the next couple of days, probably. you wonder if people will still watch the play once they know that their beloved iwaizumi isn’t the male lead anymore.

“how long do you think it’ll take to heal?” it’s an attempt to strike a conversation and you’re glad iwaizumi took the initiative. you were starting to feel embarrassed with his ankles in your hand.

“hm, three days? or four? maybe a weak? depends on how well you’re taking care of yourself.”

“four days,” another pause, he tends to think before tapping on your shoulder, making you look up at him. “do you want to go on a date with me?”

it’s like you’ve experienced culture shock. “what?”

“what? we have one due from the last time,” he smirks again, and you realise that he has been smirking a lot late. it’s beyond extents and makes you want to wipe that smirk off his face. “so, do you want to, you know, four days later?”

it’s back, the arrhythmia. you seriously need to get yourself checked before cardiac arrest knocks on your door. oh, and you’d love to punch his good for nothing handsome face but you don’t, maybe because he’s injured. after all, how is a man supposed to live with a broken leg and nose?

“looks like you’ve hit your head too.” you stand up, handing him the remaining bandages before storming off the venue. little did you know that your cheek started heating up the moment you looked into his eyes.

“hey, you didn’t give me an answer!” and you don’t want to either. you walk away, assuming someone would come and assist him to the main building because if you stay next to him for another second, you’ll go crazy. you absolutely hate coming to terms with your feelings but maybe, maybe you do have slight infatuation with iwaizumi; and maybe, you need to get onto it with kyoka before it’s too late.

“and the last scene? i was screaming internally—”

“can we talk?” you interrupt kyoka, partly because your ears will bleed if you heard another word about how ecstatic acting with hayato was and partly because you actually want to talk.

she stops, slight nervousness settling on her face. “yeah, sure.”

“about your crush,” it’s just three words and you’re already willing to leave the conversation taking place on your own accord. “okay, all i’m saying is that i like him too. i’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

and then you hear her laugh, out of everything. a part of you wants to scream because you just disclosed an important info, something you don’t even want to acknowledge yourself, and she’s laughing. moreover, it’s about the love of her life. your friendship is at stake and she’s laughing. perhaps you have a broken humour for not getting the joke.

“why would i be mad?” you blink, wondering if you heard her right. not like you were expecting her to go off and beat you in the middle of the street at 9 pm, but there’s always a chance. “i don’t think i have a chance with him either way. so, i’ll just root for you.”

this is why you think iwaizumi and kyoka are perfect for each other. they both are nice, literal saints, embodiments of kindness, not a vile cell inside of them. as for you, you had your sibling’s snack last evening and stepped on your mom’s foot while running away across the household. you don’t think iwaizumi has even stepped on an ant. instead, he seems the type to help them navigate or something.

“i feel bad now that you’re giving up,” you confess, and it’s true. probably the truest truth you’ve said so far. you feel frustration pent up inside you, threatening to overflow any second. “Why did i have to fall for iwaizumi out of all the people?!”

“wait, iwaizumi?” kyoka asks, dumbfounded, or rather, confused.

“yes, we’re talking about iwaizumi, right?” okay, you don’t have a good feeling about the direction this conversation is heading towards.

“no?” she clarifies and the look on your face morphs into visible panic. “i don’t like iwaizumi.”

“what?” you yell, turning a few passing heads towards you. however, you pay them no mind. “i thought you liked iwaizumi because of the name on your eraser. i-h, iwaizumi hajime, it makes sense!”

kyoka shakes her head in denial. “no, it’s i-h, hayato ito. i like hayato and not iwaizumi!”

an awkward pause follows. it’s a mess inside your head. you abso-fucking-lutely can’t believe the way you misunderstood the whole situation, and got yourself into a problem with seemingly no way out. you could’ve asked her about the eraser but you didn’t, proceeding to make your own assumptions and ending up in an even bigger issue.

kyoka gasps, pulling you out of your thoughts. “oh my god, then you have a crush on iwaizumi?” that phrase doesn’t surprise you anymore. “i thought you liked tatsuya.”

maybe, that surprises you a bit. you remember fawning over tatsuya, thinking about him all day, reading and re-reading your conversations with him. being with tatsuya has always been the highlight of your day, yet you don’t recall thinking about him ever since iwaizumi walked into your life. you didn’t seem to mind when tatsuya hung out with other people but you feel as if you have a knife by your neck whenever you spot iwaizumi with others.

you simply don’t know what’s happening to you. “yeah, uh, surprise?” and this isn’t the time to laugh but you do, trying to lighten the burden on your shoulders. “i’m not really sure if i like iwaizumi yet.” liar, you are. you may deny it till the end of the time but you know you’re falling for iwaizumi; slowly and gradually, but you are.

“didn’t you just say you like iwaizumi, though?” she smirks as if she can see through the lies you tell yourself. “well, whatever. at least, we don’t have to be love rivals.” yeah, maybe there’s one good thing about this whole situation. imagine having a crush on your best friend’s crush, embarrassing. but again, being in this situation built over misunderstandings is even more embarrassing, it’s eating you out.

at this point, you don’t even care about you, or your so-called reputation if someone discloses this whole thing to the public. you don’t care about tatsuya, nor do you give two flying fucks to your seemingly dead feelings for him. you only have one thing on your mind : iwaizumi hajime.

it isn’t about how you feel towards him. you’re still in the maybe stage. perhaps, you don’t like iwaizumi and this is just your fatigued brain coming up with bizzare conclusions. you remember falling for iwaizumi the day he walked you home. however, the next day, you were back to normal. you didn’t remember shit about butterflies and zoos. perhaps, it’s the same this time as well. so, you don’t care about your feelings, but you can’t seem to ignore how he feels towards you.

to iwaizumi, who doesn’t have any idea about the truth lying within, every second of this is true. every moment, every step, every word, every touch, every gaze, every smile, everything. he thinks you like him. no, actually, he’s convinced that you like him. and iwaizumi being the kindest person on earth is trying his best to like you back, to know you beyond everyone else’s perception of who you are. he greets you every morning over texts and bids you good night. he asks if you’re doing okay, if you need help with assignments, if you’re down for an evening stroll— he’s giving his everything; and you always turn his advances down, never daring to cross the wall you’ve created between you and him.

iwaizumi takes one step towards you, and you take four away from him.

kyoka bids her goodbyes at the intersection from where you both have opposite ways home. you had planned to spend the night at her place, only for your mother to refuse, saying she has a few things she needs to talk to you about. you halt at the intersection, staring and sighing at the night sky, contemplating how mess of a life you have as if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.

“yn?” you close your eyes. now is not the time. tatsuya is like the last person you want to see tonight. “what are you looking at?” he chuckles, mirroring your actions as he follows your gaze and looks up at the empty night sky as well.

“your mom,” he frowns at your reply, especially since his mom passed away when he was just seven, sending a sour stare your way. tatsuya isn’t the biggest supporter of your mom jokes, actually, for all the valid reasons. “what are you doing here? didn’t you leave for home long ago?”

“yes but,” he pulls out what seems like your scarf from his bag, handing it out to you. “you forgot this. iwaizumi said he would’ve given it to you himself but his leg . . . you know. don’t be sad that your boyfriend couldn’t make it, though. he said he’d be at school tomorrow.”

boyfriend, right. it feels odd hearing it from tatsuya. would he still be able to say with ease if he knew you have a crush on him, or rather, used to? overthinking apart, you’re glad tatsuya came to return your scarf or your mother wouldn’t have let you inside tonight. it doesn’t take you realise that iwaizumi and tatsuya are actually close, and they have gotten even closer over the past few days thanks to you and your crush on iwaizumi.

maybe, tatsuya is the only one who can help you out. “can i ask you about something?” he nods, and you narrate your whole story about how you borrowed the eraser from kyoka, iwaizumi misunderstanding the setting, the person kyoka actually has a crush on and everything else, all the things except the fact that you like tatsuya— used to.

“can you get more stupid?” that’s the first thing tatsuya comes up with after you update him on your dilemma.

“how am i stupid when iwaizumi assumed everything in the first place?” you slap his arm playfully, earning an exaggerated response. “what should i do?”

tatsuya scoffs. “tell him the truth.” god, no, asking him was the wrong-est move you’ve ever made. “don’t look at me like that! i hope you know you’re basically playing with that poor boy’s feelings.” that’s right. that’s the phrase; playing with his feelings. you didn’t want to accept it initially, you’re not the type to play with anyone’s feelings and what’s happening right now is a big misunderstanding.

however, hearing it from tatsuya makes it sound even worse. not to mention, you feel awful. you try to imagine iwaizumi’s reaction after you tell him the truth. you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. what would you do if you were in his shoes? how would you react? maybe you’d end up actually hating him, scream and shout, act like a dramatic bitch, and whatnot; but iwaizumi doesn’t seem the type to do that. he doesn’t come off as someone who’d shout at you. maybe, he’ll say it’s okay, and thank you for coming clean, and move on as if nothing happened.

the problem is, even if he’s heartbroken, he wouldn’t let you know; and you, being yourself, would believe it and stamp him as just another passerby in your life.

“how do i bring it up to him?” you mumble, looking at tatsuya. you’re thinking of another excuse in the back of your head. something along the lines of ‘hey, i don’t think you have to force yourself to like me yada yada—’ it sounds hella generous. you don’t want to turn this in your favour. even if iwaizumi claims he’s not forcing himself to like you, you will convince him otherwise. that’s your thought process, your silly way out of this situation.

“just be straightforward.” tatsuya interrupts your trail of thoughts. “you know, he lives just a street behind yours so if we hurry, we can make it before ten.” you take a look at your phone screen : 9:50pm. tatsuya’s hand slips into yours as he sprints towards iwaizumi’s house. you don’t know what time has to do with any of these. sure, ten at night is probably not the right timing to go visit someone but still, you have had your friends stand out of your window at two in the morning for impromptu midnight escapades.

maybe, iwaizumi is one of those ‘good boys’ who goes to bed at ten sharp, without excuses. to be honest, it sounds very iwaizumi-like. dinner at seven, studies following, and then to bed at ten, seems like something the one and only iwaizumi hajime would do.

before you realise, you find yourself standing in front of what is supposed to be iwaizumi’s house. it’s nice, beautiful, even. the garden is well maintained and you wonder if he’s into gardening. tatsuya shoots a call to iwaizumi, who peeks down at the street through his window just a few seconds later, waving at you before disappearing behind the grey curtains.

it’s cute, you think, and then decide that you’re crazy. no way, you just called iwaizumi hajime cute. sure, you find him a bit interesting but not like you have a passionate crush on him. you can be one of those fans, nothing more.

a girl opens the door and you recall that she could be his sister. he talks about her every time you both complain about siblings. iwaizumi helps himself down the stairs, using wall as support while his sister aids him shortly. you wonder if this is a wrong time to meet him. his ankle doesn’t look bad, not like you can actually see it, but back at school, he wasn’t even able to move it.

“how’s your leg?” the question falls off your lips instinctively, without giving him or tatsuya, a chance to even breath in each other’s direction.

iwaizumi smiles, looking down at his ankles before setting his eyes back on you. “quite better.” involuntarily, you reciprocate his smile, nodding before waving at his sister as well, who excuses herself shortly. “would you like to come in?”

“no, actually,” tatsuya cuts in, giving you a look of assurance. “we want to talk about something. she wants to, actually.” and tatsuya steps aside, leaving you and iwaizumi alone to talk everything out and clear all the misunderstandings.

“so, the eraser,” you begin, hesitatingly, looking at tatsuya who shoots you thumbs up from a distance. “it actually belongs to kyoka. i borrowed it for a test since i didn’t bring mine. the name too, the ih on it stands for hayato ito, and not iwaizumi hajime.” you want to dig a hole and die because first, this is so embarrassing. iwaizumi looks at you unfazed as if he’s too stunned to speak; and second, your voice practically dies towards the end of your sentence, making it more terrible than it already is.

iwaizumi doesn’t speak for next thirty seconds. he simply looks at you, blinking occasionally, making you wonder if your confession traumatised him so much that he lost his verbal abilities. you won’t blame him. this whole thing is hurtful enough to give anyone a trauma. furthermore, as you’re about to speak more, he lets out a dry chuckle, almost convincing you that he has gone crazy. “that’s it?”

that’s it? that’s it? that’s all he has to say? you’re about to lose your mind.

“i mean, i’m sorry for not bringing it up earlier,” you kind of want to scream in the middle of the road because you went through all this trouble, beating your mental health to death, only for him to chuckle and say that’s it? then you ponder if it’s sarcasm, or if iwaizumi wants a written apology from you, one that you will post on the school's forum and recite in front of the whole school at morning assembly. you’re marginally close from ripping your hair out, strand by strand.

“it’s okay. you couldn’t tell me before because i took it so seriously. it’s my fault for jumping to conclusions.” you’re almost in tears once again. had it been someone else, or let alone someone else, had it been you in his shoes, you would’ve made a scene; and iwaizumi is here, in front of you, taking the blame for something that isn’t his fault in the first place.

“no, iwa—”

“i said it’s okay. i’m glad you brought it up. you don’t have to worry about it anymore.” he cuts you off, reassuring you again and again. all this time, you’ve been thinking about yourself, never really considering him and when you finally give him a chance to call you out, he turns the situation in your favour. “honestly, i’m relieved.”

“iwaizumi, what are you doing outside?” an unfamiliar voice breaks in before you could respond to his words. you run your eyes around, who iwaizumi seems to have forgotten about, only to realise he has already left. turns out, the voice belonged to iwaizumi’s mother and godbless, she’s just as pretty as him, or even more. “and you should invite your friend inside. it’s cold out here.”

“yn’s not a friend. they’re more of a,” ain’t no way. if iwaizumi’s planning to say what you’re thinking then there’s no way he hasn’t gone crazy. “classmate. they were about to leave.” his mother nods, smiling at you as she walks inside, leaving you and iwaizumi basking in silence. suddenly, all the words inside your mouth die down, leaving a taste of speechlessness as you mutter a silent goodbye to him.

“you good? why do you look pale all of a sudden?” iwaizumi asks, stepping forward to check your temperature, only for you to step back as an empty frown settles on his face.

“i know i lied but i always thought we were at least friends,” you say it with a chuckle, having iwaizumi retreat his hand as you turn around, proceeding on your way back home. “take care of yourself.”

it’s funny because all this time, you’ve been stepping away from iwaizumi, never letting him approach you, taking multiple steps away from him; but just watching him step away from you feels like the life inside you has been knocked out. but it’s fine, this is what you’ve wanted.

and just like that, you and iwaizumi get all the way back to step one, being what you initially were : classmates.

YOUR DAYS without iwaizumi have been like a monochrome film. you haven’t talked to him after that night, neither did he try to strike a conversation. the homeroom teacher changed the seating arrangement, with you and iwaizumi ending up on opposite corners of the classroom. it was a perfect excuse to not being able to talk; but now, four days later, you’re sitting on the last seat, watching iwaizumi as he jots down notes from the board. you notice the way he spins the pen between his fingers as he re-reads what he wrote, or the way frantically flips to the very last page and do some calculations. you don’t know when you started noticing so much about him. you find him in the hallways, standing with his friends and still isolated, you realise something must be wrong. maybe his dog is sick, maybe he didn’t score well, maybe this, maybe that— and your head would be full of iwaizumi all over again.

“you’re zoning out again,” kyoka mutters, poking your arms with her pen. one good thing about the new seating arrangement is that kyoka is your deskmate, and you honestly need her next to you for the next few months, at least. “is it iwaizumi again?”

and you need her because she always seems to know what you’re thinking. you don’t even need to say a word, or wear an expression. all she needs is just one look at you and that’ll lead her to your mind. you don’t respond to her question; you choose not to, and the two of you get back to writing once the teacher looks in your direction with a heavy gaze.

“you never told me what happened that day,” you pause again, contemplating your choices. you don’t know why you never told her. you don’t hide anything from her unless it’s your credit card number, but jokes apart, you don’t know what was stopping you from telling her the truth all this time.

“i told him everything.” you mumble, it’s more like a whisper, maybe even quieter. “the whole misunderstanding, and— yeah. everything. we haven’t talked since then.”

you feel her nod with a soft hum. “and you miss him?”

“no.” a pause. kyoka’s eyes travel to you at your quick reply while yours stay fixed on your notebook before you start writing again. “i don’t.”

the truth is, you don’t know the answer to that question. do you miss him? do you not? it’s a question for later. you don’t know who you miss— the iwaizumi that was your friend, or the part of him that used to be your boyfriend. honestly, you wish he’d talk to you, like he used to. like the way you wouldn’t text him one day and he’d spam you with missed calls, like the way he’d pester you at school asking why you didn’t respond to his texts. you want him to reach you out again because you can’t do it now that he knows the truth; and if he chose that he’s better off without you, you’re no one to intervene.

till then, you’ll wait, because that’s all you can do.

“you’re lyin—”

you cut her off. “i’m not.”

“yn—”

“we’re in class, kyoka. get back to writing.”

“no— yn look at me.” and you do as silence intoxicates the air between the two of you. there’s a knowing glint in her eyes, as if she has already known the truth and is asking for your confirmation, waiting to hear it from your mouth. she takes a deep breath, looking at you with stern eyes. “do you like iwaizumi?”

you don’t know the answer to that question either. falling for someone is complicated. you don’t know when exactly you start falling, or when you have fallen all the way in and too deep to return, or when you start falling beyond the rock bottom. you don’t know whether you’re falling for iwaizumi or not. you like being with him, really, and you’ve learnt to tolerate his all perfect attitude that used to irritate you initially. you find yourself thinking about the things the two of you would’ve done if you ever went on that date, or the time when you almost asked him to teach you volleyball even though you have a single athletic bone in your body.

when it comes to him, you think about things you’ve never thought about. you listen to him as if he’s a synchrony of a melody and melancholy. with him, you do things you would’ve never done otherwise. you find yourself breaking your own rules for him, but are you falling for him— that’s a question you don’t know the answer to. you don’t know how to find an answer to that one.

kyoka doesn’t wait for your response. she probably knows it anyway. it’s almost as if she’s waiting for you to catch up to your feelings. but it doesn’t make sense to you. even if you give her an answer, even if you say that you like him, it wouldn’t change how you feel about him. you can tell the world that you love iwaizumi hajime but it wouldn’t change a thing about your feelings for him, because saying as always been easier than actually coming in terms with your words, and you know you’re lost in your way towards or away from iwaizumi, and no words of saccharine confessions could ever change that.

the bells, lesson ends, and you stay in the class until all the students walk out. it’s break and you haven’t had an appetite ever since you woke up this morning. just as expected, kyoka leaves to see hayato ito, they’ve gotten closer over the last few days and you’re expecting a dating announcement from her soon. she’s like that, kyoka likes to show off, but in a good way. when you win an award, she posts your picture with the caption ‘everyone be jealous because i’m yn’s best friend and you’re not,’— it’s adorable, and then you never see the end of it because she never stops telling everyone how she’s your best friend, your closest friend, and the friend who’d always be the most suitable candidate for your lover because no one knows you better than kyoka; and the last part is very much a joke, by the way.

when sitting alone in the classroom doesn’t help you calm down your racing mind, you make your way towards the terrace. for some reason, standing under the vast skyline brings you to ease. although, coming to the school terrace is prohibited and you’ve already received multiple detentions for it, you don’t mind spending another day cleaning the classroom if it means you can spend a few minutes at the terrace everyday. however, today turns out to be different. you wanted to spend the whole break on the terrace, now you don’t, because you see the one person you’ve been avoiding for four days— iwaizumi hajime.

your first thought is to leave, to pretend that you never saw him standing there; but then you realise— you never did anything wrong. well, except the whole misunderstanding part, you never did anything wrong. you owned up to your mistakes, you’ve apologised and iwaizumi even accepted it. in any case, it’s his fault because he considers you a classmate and nothing more, even after everything you’ve been through. so, you walk to your usual spot, feeling iwaizumi’s eyes following you as you exhibit your walk of pride. you kind of want to run away but it’s too late now.

a minute passes, and then another, followed by another and you’re starting to think this was a bad decision. you should’ve left when you had the chance because silence is even more suffocating. and the fact that both of you are socially incompetent isn’t helping your case. but someone has to break the ice and soon enough, you realise that in this situation, you have to take the lead.

“um, you don’t have practice today?” you ask, fingers crossed that he doesn’t find you weird or shameless for showing up after four days and acting as if nothing’s wrong.

“wednesdays are off,” right, tatsuya told you once. another trail of silence follows. you don’t know what to say and judging from his face, it seems like he doesn’t know either. you won’t like, you have your questions and you believe he does too, but you don’t know where to start. “i’m sorry about that day.”

iwaizumi blurts out, leaving you surprised. you feel your heart beat relentlessly, knowing that he’s finally addressing the topic you’ve been running away for days now. “i haven’t told my mother that i’m dating and introducing you as my partner would’ve been, i don’t know, too early? since we’re still in the trial stage. and, you’re definitely more than a friend so,” you notice the soft tint of red climb up his cheeks as your lips curl into a smile. you couldn’t help but find it cute, one doesn’t always get to see iwaizumi hajime struggling with his words. “just— you get it, right? i would’ve told this to you that day but you had already left.”

and once again, his words leave you speechless, sending your heart in a spiral and giving you butterflies. you think it’s one of his charms. he has a way with words, a luxury you never had. “why didn’t you tell me the next day, or the day after that, or just one of these days?”

“i figured you were mad so i kinda wanted to do something for you,” there's a slight hesitation in his voice. you don’t know where it comes from. you notice the way he scratches his nape, avoiding your eyes actively while letting those words fall off his lips. you wouldn’t say you actually know him, but you think you’re a step closer to knowing the iwaizumi hajime behind the notion of a straight-A student that the school has created.

you think you can talk to him now without worrying about the past misunderstandings. “iwaizumi, do you even know what i like?”

he takes a second to think. “uh, mint chocolate?”

“no way, i hate mint chocolate—” and from that point on, it’s just a cycle of whats and hows. iwaizumi says that tatsuya told him you like mint chocolate. he gasps in disbelief when he realises that tatsuya had lied. you are so busy laughing about the whole situation that you don’t notice the way iwaizumi’s eyes rest upon you. you fail to notice the way his lips curl up as your honey dripping laughter fills the air around, and he’s glad because iwaizumi believes that he’s absolutely smitten, and there’s no way you can know unless he tells you himself.

there’s not a moment when iwaizumi isn’t looking at you. all the four days when you weren’t in contact with each other, he looked through your texts and the pictures that you had taken in his phone just because his camera is amazing. he steals glances at you in class when you aren’t looking. iwaizumi doodles your face at the back of his notebook and one can see your name written all over the last few pages, along with ways to apologise. iwaizumi can’t stop looking at you because you’re just too pretty that nothing else pleases his eyes.

so when you finally stop laughing, assuring him that you’d tell tatsuya to not lie to him about your likes and dislikes ever again, iwaizumi realises that he doesn’t ever want to stop looking at you. he wants you to be there every day, next to him, and he wants to be able to admire your face for all the days to come.

“yn, would you like to go on a date with me?” he proposes, and everything goes silent when you look at him with your eyes wide open, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. “we can get to know each other better.”

at that moment, you realise that you don’t know much about iwaizumi either. you know him as the smart and talented guy, or someone who plays for the school volleyball team, or as someone so good at art that he can apply for international competitions if he wanted to. even after being his ‘girlfriend’ or something along those lines, you learn that you don’t know him any better than everyone else.

“yes.” you reply, because you discern that perhaps, you’re a step closer to the real iwaizumi, even though you may be a hundred miles apart. you realise that iwaizumi hajime is enchanting and it’s a luxury to know the iwaizumi beyond the limits that apply to everyone else but you.

the rest of your day goes by in a blink. you don’t realise when time passed and now, you’re sitting in for the last lesson of the day. the iwaizumi effect, you may call it, because when iwaizumi is around, time seems to go faster and when he’s not, the world stops and everything makes you feel like you’re running out of breath.

"you look happy," kyoka comments but you pay her words no mind. instead, your eyes are fixed on iwaizumi, and you shoot him a sweet smile when he turns out to face the student sitting behind him, getting one as a response as well. just then, you realise that iwaizumi has a really cute smile. you never really noticed it until now, and you don't want him to lose that smile ever again.

he points his fingers towards your textbook, gesturing you to focus on your lesson, and you do the same until he turns away from you, scribbling on his notebook before shipping towards you once again, holding it upright for you to decipher the words, which continue to remain a secret between iwaizumi and the pages of his notebook since they weren't clear enough for you to read.

you don't remember the last time you felt this way. all these unspeakable feelings that you're unable to identify, it wasn't until iwaizumi came into your life that you started thinking about anything along the lines of romance. you pull out your phone, texting him something before beckoning him to check his phone, and just then kyoka's voice interrupts your main character moment.

"yn— geez, i've called your name like thrice already!" she slaps your shoulder playfully, making you snicker in response.

you shoot her an annoyed expression. "what?"

"well, i wanted to ask about chemistry but when the fuck did this happen like—" and then he paused, looking around before leaning closer, speaking with a low voice. "didn't you and iwaizumi fight?"

"we talked it out," she deadpans, because that simply isn't enough as an answer for the way you've been asking for the past four days. "we're all good now, i suppose." you feel her looking at you in disbelief while the teacher dismisses the class, and you know she’s probably thinking about how you should’ve sorted it out four days ago if talking was all that you both needed to get back to how you used to be.

but you like to think that she doesn’t understand. kyoka has been in more relationships than you and she understands its aspects better than anyone else that you’ve known. but she has never been in your shoes. she didn’t find herself getting over her crush in just a few days and started getting butterflies she didn’t like until weeks ago. she doesn’t get butterflies when she thinks about this one person and gets losts wondering if she actually likes him or if she’s only in love with the idea of him. she doesn’t go on dates with the person and she isn’t spending nights and days wondering if they’re dating or if they’re just friends. she has never been in your shoes, and you have never experienced these feelings before iwaizumi.

"you're in love with him." she snickers, slinging her bag up her shoulders while you pack your belongings, completely overlooking iwaizumi who’s standing by the door, waiting for you.

"i'm not in love with him," you’re quick to decline, you can’t help but smile at the thought of it. were you in love with iwaizumi? you don’t know. maybe it’s not love, because love is a heavy word. it’s not just something you can say out of the blues. you don’t think you’re in love with iwaizumi, yet.

she rolls her eyes at your stance of denial. “you were literally flirting with him, yn.”

“we were talking, kyoka.” and she shakes her head, surrendering to your thought process because kyoka knows she can never understand your logic. “by the way, i’m walking home with iwaizumi so you can leave.”

all you notice is the way she nods, mumbling what you think was ‘and you say you aren’t in love with him,’ before walking out of the class. you decide not to refute her words— it was pointless. you can only decline something to a point and after that, you have to fall for acceptance. maybe that’s why you feel like you wouldn’t mind it anymore if someone asks you whether you’re in love with iwaizumi, because you do feel some type of way about him. you don’t know if it’s love— god— you don’t even know if you like him, but you know what you want him near you. you’ve spent four days without iwaizumi and you sure you wouldn’t want to go through that ever again. all you know is that you like being with iwaizumi, and you hope that rest will fall into place over time. you’ve spent weeks in a no-label relationship with him, not knowing what the two of you are, and you don’t mind spending the next few weeks lost and wondering about what you both can be.

you’re so busy drowning in the ocean of your thoughts that you fail to notice when iwaizumi left the classroom. you’re sure you saw him around when kyoka was still in the classroom. you rush downstairs, assuming that he must be waiting by the exit.

“yn,” you stop at the sound of your name resonating through the hallway, noticing a girl from junior year if you recall correctly, running in your direction. “i heard you and iwaizumi broke up. is it true?”

and yet again, you find yourself wondering how to answer that question. did you break up? you don’t think so, because you weren’t dating him in the first place; but again, everyone in the school believes that you’ve been dating him and iwaizumi never tried to decline those baseless assumptions. however, her question is what you’re worried about the most. just thinking about what follows after pushes your heart towards the edge. you can’t help but picture them together, her and iwaizumi, and quite frankly, they’d make a good pair. are you ready to see them together? not that you know; but, are you ready for iwaizumi to leave you for someone else? you don’t think you can imagine that, or even want to think about it.

“er— where did you hear that from?” you question back in an attempt to avoid answering the question. on the other hand, you couldn’t help but think how the first time, iwaizumi was last and this time, it’s you who’s making him wait.

“a few seniors were talking about it,” she replies, getting impatient as seconds pass. “just tell me, are you still dating him or not?”

“they are,” that’s iwaizumi, and you turn around to face him, taking a sigh of relief since iwaizumi is congenitally better at answering tricky questions than you. “i don’t know who told you that we broke up, but it’s not true. we’re still dating, and i don’t plan to break up soon.”

you don’t remember since you’ve started feeling nervous around him. maybe it was after the night he walked you home, or the night you told him everything; or maybe you’ve always been nervous around him, just failing to notice it because you were too busy running away from him. but you know it now— you’re nervous around him. iwaizumi makes you nervous, and it’s only because he’s too good at pretending. he puts his hand around your shoulder to make her think how much he loves you, he talks about you to his friends to put on a show about your relationship. iwaizumi is too good at pretending, and you’re afraid that you’re falling for his empty words of admiration.

when she left after offering an apology, in that moment, you look at iwaizumi and it suddenly occurs to you how beautiful his eyes are. you don’t think you’ve ever been in such close vicinity with him, and now that you’re standing next to him with his arms around your shoulders, you feel like it’s the safest place to be in. his words felt like intricately written verses of poetry and you forgot how to look away from him. you notice iwaizumi’s eyes settle on you and you don’t turn away, you can’t, because you feel as if your feet have forgotten how to walk. he asks you why you have that look on your face, as though a shadow has fallen across its sun-drenched landscape, heavy with premonition, you tell yourself that it’s just a phase.

but then iwaizumi flicks your forehead, sliding his hands into yours, leading you towards the exit— a smile makes its way to your lips. it’s amusing; the second you tried to tell yourself that you weren’t in love was the moment you realised you were, and you’ve always been.

“here, your ice cream.” iwaizumi holds out his hand towards you, waiting for you to take it from your hand. and then a second passes, followed by a couple more; then he calls your name, only to receive silence in return. you don’t respond until he grabs your hand, passing you the ice-cream cone himself before chuckling at your antics. “you zone out a lot, don’t you?”

“why did you lie?” you ask, taking the cone from his hand, although your favourite ice cream didn’t look appetising anymore. “you could’ve told her that we’re not dating.”

“do you want me to tell that to her?" you don’t know what made him ask that question, but little do you know that somewhere inside, you don’t want this rumour to come to an end.

you’ve lost him one and you know you want to lose him again. truthfully, the four days without iwaizumi were the hardest for you. your hand felt emptier than before you had met him— your heart felt heavier. you kept denying your feelings because you were scared, and even now, you feel as if you’re hanging by the edge of a cliff. you didn’t know how important he became to you until you watched him stray further, but now you do; at least a part of you does. in some strange mysterious way, you knew there was something special about him the day iwaizumi asked you on a date for a very first time. in his eyes, you caught a glimpse of yourself. despite being polar opposites, you noticed the minor similarities between him and you. there were times when you wished to go back to the day where he stood next to you, stunned by your confession, and you’d tell him the truth instead of lying and running away like the coward you are.

but then, there are days when you find yourself thanking the higher deities for putting you and iwaizumi on the same path, though it was supported by lies and misunderstandings. you don’t think you would’ve ever tried to enter iwaizumi’s world if none of this would’ve happened, neither would you have let him enter yours. you want to run away, wipe the slate clean, start all over again and see where it would take you.

because you aren’t sure what you’re doing. you don’t know anything about love. you find it scary, you think you’re too young to claim the word ‘love’ for the way you feel towards iwaizumi. you don’t know what love is, but if it means jumping in an endless pit, eyes closed, and waiting for iwaizumi to catch you, then you don’t ever want to climb back up.

"iwaizumi," his eyes travel to yours, a gaze that throws your heart in an endless spiral. "i know the eraser was a misunderstanding but, i think i actually like you."

you look at him, he looks at you, a few seconds pass and when he doesn’t reply, you feel regret conquer your mind. maybe, expecting a positive response is far-fetched. if you put yourself in his shoes, you wouldn't like him back either. liking him wouldn’t even be an option, you don’t know if you’d be able to trust him all over again. so, if you can’t imagine yourself falling for someone who has done everything that you did to iwaizumi, then how can you expect iwaizumi to do the same?

there are moments when you think iwaizumi hajime is too good for you, and maybe, this is one of those. he’s too honest, too good to be true, he doesn’t know how to cut people out of his life; and probably that’s why, he continues to be with you because he doesn’t want to break your heart. it's an unwanted pity, albeit one that you’re grateful for, perhaps.

“just reject me already. you don’t need to waste your time,” you say, because iwaizumi hajime being the kind soul he is, isn’t capable of saying no. so, you decide to create distances from your end, hoping he wouldn’t chase you this time ‘round.

iwaizumi still doesn’t say a word. he simply looks at you, perhaps trying to read your expression, or maybe thinking of ways to say no; but it’s what you think he’s doing. you were never able to perceive what actually goes inside his head. maybe that’s why, when he steps closer to you, you forget how to breathe. "would you like to date me?"

and his question takes you out, really. iwaizumi? you? dating? you like the sound of that, but if you put all the events together, no one of it makes sense. "did you hit your head again?"

"you're being rude." he frowns.

"and i think you're making fun of me."

"i'm not," iwaizumi sighs and that’s the first time you sense annoyance in his words. you’ve never seen him annoyed or irritated, not as much as he looks right now, at you. "i don’t know why you’re acting like you committed a crime. it was a misunderstanding, a mistake, and we solved it. we both were at fault and we apologised, that’s it. leave it be. i’ll say this again; i like you, yn, and i don’t care what happened in the past. would you like to go on a date with me?"

this time, you make silence reign the air around the two of you. once again, you don’t know what to say. are you supposed to nod? say yes? run away? or are you supposed to kiss him like those actors do in the movies? you’d never know.

“i’ll take that as a yes.” turns out he’s in a silly, goofy mood, because iwaizumi is acting as if he didn’t just present a heart-fluttering confession. well, everything he does flutters your heart, but hearing him say those words, it made you fall for him all over again; and you’d have to agree that iwaizumi hajime looks really hot when he’s annoyed. “where do you want to go for our date?”

“movie on saturday?” you suggest. “or whatever you want, actually.”

“not saturday. me and kyoka are planning to meet to wrap up the council work.” ah, kyoka. you don’t know the last time you envied her, maybe never until this moment. it’s new, really, because you’re being envious of your best friend just because your potential boyfriend is picking her over your date; and it’s equally illogical because you know kyoka likes someone else. “can i come over tomorrow?”

“what? no. it hasn’t even been a minute since we started dating,” truthfully, you’re not exactly against the thought of iwaizumi coming over to your place. it sounds wonderful, actually, but you have a pride to maintain. “besides, i didn’t say yes, yet.”

“that’s why, i’ll be coming over tomorrow, to ask you out again.” he says, looking at you as if you are his whole world. “and i hope you say yes.” this is why you think you hate iwaizumi more than you like him. he has his way with words, and knows what to say, and each and every sentence leaves you speechless, unable to process your own thoughts. you hate how he excels in all the fields because just when you thought you could maybe something equally heart-fluttering, iwaizumi leans in closer, planting a soft kiss on your cheeks before intertwining his hands in yours, kissing the back of your palm. “please, say yes.”

and you think you will, because you don’t know what it means to like someone, but it feels like that for you. like you and iwaizumi exist in a time before love— as though you were waiting for the word to catch up to the feeling.

THE THOUGHT of dating iwaizumi is ambiguous.

you aren’t even close to it. iwaizumi said he would ask you out again, but you decided to assist him and kyoka in their council work, which was rescheduled on the day you and iwaizumi were supposed to have your ‘date.’ you didn’t plan to spend the day with him, honestly. despite his multiple requests to come over to his place with kyoka, you refused to agree until ten minutes before they planned to meet. you don’t know what convinced you to agree. perhaps, it’s the stagnant picture of the two of them in your head, maybe it’s the fact that you had nothing to do and going over to iwaizumi seemed better than sleeping throughout the noon.

after arriving at his place, you realised that it was jealousy that drove you to his house; or rather, an utter sense of diffidence that plagued your mind. something about watching kyoka and iwaizumi work together pulled you away from the thought that you and iwaizumi can be something more than friends. however, despite being aware of iwaizumi’s feelings for you, you can’t help but believe in the possibility of him and kyoka.

“how’s council work going?” you ask as the two of you stroll down to your house since iwaizumi insisted on walking you back even though you said it wasn’t necessary. these are the times when you think he pays you a lot more attention than necessary, more than you deserve, even. you notice the way your steps are in sync before he stops to take a look at a stray cat sneaking into someone’s garden, and the next step he takes doesn’t match yours anymore.

“it’s good.” he replies, and although you can’t see his face now that he’s walking a step in front of you, you could hear the smile in his voice. “kyoka is good at what she does. i’m assuming we can wrap it up by tomorrow.”

your grasp around his hand tightens, fingers interlaced and yet you could feel the distance in between. his words leave a sour taste in your mouth. however, in any case, you can't deny how capable your friend is. it’s only normal for people to compliment her, and in iwaizumi’s case, you presume that he can relate after meeting someone on the same spectrum as him. “right, she’s efficient.”

“i thought she would be, i don’t know, cold? she looks indifferent but is actually really fun to—” and you stop, causing him to do the same as he halts in the middle of his sentence, lowering his head to get a better look at your expression. “is something wrong?”

“no?,” you shoot him a forced smile. “i’m just thinking how you two would make a good couple,” you say, because dating iwaizumi is ambiguous. it’s almost as if every second with him reminds you that you don’t belong here.

“you’re back at this again,” there’s annoyance laced in his voice and you wonder if your actions have finally broken his shell. after all, there’s only so much a person can put up against your sheer persistence. “i don’t care about kyoka, or how good or bad we look together. i like you—”

“why?” your voice shoots up a few octaves, loud enough to turn a few heads in your direction as the passersby assume it to be just another lover’s quarrel. “iwaizumi, everything reminds me of how different we are. i try to not overthink but then i look at you and kyoka and realise how i came between the two of you.”

you see everything come down falling. it feels nice, for some reason. now that he’s in front of you, standing with an expression that ranges between anger and disappointment while you’re finally able to voice your thoughts, you don’t feel like this is bad enough. after all, communication is the key, and unsaid words only give rise to unwanted strains in a relationship. even though you knew nothing could be made out of whatever you and iwaizumi have, you want to end it on a good note for the sake of both of you.

for the next few minutes, you talked and he listened. you aren’t sure if you were making sense. you didn’t know if you were processing your own words, it all sounded like an information dump— just like when you’re assigned a task and when asked about it, your supervisor drops each and every thing about it on you like an explosive, and you’re left to find the starting point. looking at his face, you discern that iwaizumi must be feeling the same way.

it pains you to see him like this— limbs on side as if they’re lifeless, an ocean of dejection in his eyes; as if the words are on the tip of his tongue but he doesn’t know what to say, you can see it on his face. you wish you didn’t have to see him like this, not when you are the reason behind the lack of delight on his face. you know you should’ve stopped this earlier, you wish you could, and you were a step away from having him out of your life, but he looks at you once and you gravitate towards him like a moon does to its planet.

“yn, listen to me.” he cups your face in his hands, conquering your line of sight to the point he’s the only thing you could see. however, your vision had blurred from the tears dwelling in your eyes. “i like you. i wouldn’t even have talked to her if it wasn’t for the student council—”

“i don’t deserve you,” another interjection, another pang to his heart, your voice cracks— another line of conversation.

“when you say that, it makes me want to show you how much you deserve me and the other things you wish,” he holds your face even closer, as if you’re going to disappear the next moment.

it’s as if you both were cursed or just plain unlucky. you have your ideas about love, and he has his; and as much as you tried, none of you could make it work. you don’t think it’s the lack of feeling or intention that’s tearing you both apart— it’s one small seed of doubt planted in your head, and it’s doing its job. you brush his hands off your face, looking him in the eyes for one last time. “let’s stop,”

“you look as if the life inside of you has been sucked out, and it’s only nine,” kyoka comments as soon as the class is dismissed. you don’t pay attention to her words, letting a sigh roll off your lips to suffice as a response. “fight with iwaizumi?”

“no,” it’s a quick response and you don’t care if she believes you or not, even though the chances are that she most likely doesn’t. as much as you wish you could talk to her, you don’t think you can bring yourself to tell her your concerns regarding her and iwaizumi. having her by your side was a little nicer than being alone, but you decide to push her away this once, now that your worries can potentially cost you an invaluable friendship.

her gaze rests upon you for a brief second before she shakes her head in hopelessness— disappointment, at most— mumbling a faint ‘whatever’ which is carried away by the winds as soon as the word escapes his mouth. you don’t care, if you put it quite frankly. the lingering whispers of students in the hallways that talk about you and iwaizumi, or how they haven’t seen you with him for over a week now, don’t bother you anymore. you’ve learnt to ignore then and this time, the stars seemed to have aligned in your favour.

iwaizumi had to leave for inter-prefectural volleyball league the day you turned him down, albeit indirectly. you wanted to see him— still want to— and you almost strolled down to his place when he returned, which was two days prior from today. you’ve learnt to hold yourself back, accepting that there’s no point aiming for something out of your reach. you and iwaizumi are like stars in the distant sky. they attract, and when they get closer than they should’ve, it results in an explosion, consequently destroying everything within the close radius. even after iwaizumi returned to school, you’ve held yourself away from him, avoiding places he frequently visits. you even stopped going to the terrace in case he looks for you there.

you take a step away from iwaizumi and you notice iwaizumi’s world is beautiful as always; with or without you, it doesn’t matter.

“kyoka, what do you think of iwaizumi?” it’s an impromptu question, one that leaves her staring at you with perplexed eyes; but you’re too lost in your thoughts to even reconsider your words.

kyoka furrows her eyebrows and you wonder if she got a hint of what’s going inside your head. it wouldn’t be surprising if she does, honestly. kyoka has a good perception, and perhaps that’s the only reason why you’ve been avoiding her eyes for almost a week now. “and why are you asking that?”

“just answer the question.”

“i think of him . . . as your boyfriend.” the hint of playfulness is evident in her words, yet her eyes tell you otherwise.

“can you be serious for one second?” you counter with annoyance as you shut your notebook close, putting the pens back in your pencil case. after the argument with iwaizumi, hearing someone address him as your boyfriend puts you off. not that the two of you ever dated, but the thought of it was good while it lasted.

“serious about what, iwaizumi?” she chuckles and at this point, you’re convinced that she’s using your dilemma as a way of comedic relief. “yn, i don’t even think about him unless it’s regarding council stuff.”

perhaps, the last part is supposed to comfort you, though it mingles with the chatters and soon enough, slips out of your mind as if you never heard it. timing is irrelevant for two people who are meant for each other, that is what you once believed. but you and iwaizumi met during a time when you were such a mess, and had so much to figure out. you were busy getting a hold of your life while living a lie you told to save your friend, although it got you entangled deeper in the mess; and now just days later iwaizumi is claiming to have fallen for you. it sounds euphoric, but how could you believe it when everything around you reminds you of the possibility that you and iwaizumi were, maybe, always meant to meet, yet not meant to be?

“by the way, tell him i won’t be able to make it tomorrow since i’m busy,” kyoka’s voice pull your out of your thoughts.

a heavy feeling settles inside of you. “make it to where—”

“just tell him, he knows,” she runs out of the class as she always does, probably to hayato’s class because lately, her priorities have shifted towards the senior in question, now that they’ve gotten closer after the play. however, you don’t fail to notice how both iwaizumi and kyoka have been keeping things from you, like just now. you don’t pay it no mind, you really try to, but a part of your mind comes up with the chances that they could’ve been meeting without your knowledge.

you find yourself on the way to the terrace once again, after avoiding the location like a plague for days on repeat now. turns out, you couldn’t keep yourself away from it, for that’s the only place you feel like you’ll be able to breathe in when every other corner feels suffocating. a part of the reasons for your ventures to the rooftop is to get rid of all the baseless thoughts you’ve been coming up with. putting everything aside, doubting your best friend is the last thing you want to do. you don’t want to believe them, but you don’t have to hold onto a false hope either.

somewhere inside the back of your mind, you’re reminded to get back to class, though you don’t pay attention to that voice. you don’t want to go back inside the four walls and sit with the two people who are the reason behind all your worries, albeit you feel guilty for thinking of them this way. to put it in better words, you wouldn’t be able to focus either, for your mind is too busy thinking about everything else. and so, you let the soft winds soothe your mind as you lean against the railing, the cold metal against your cheeks as you close your eyes in an attempt to think about anything but the boy you wish to hear from the most at the moment.

“i looked for you all ‘round the school, y’know?” iwaizumi’s voice pop up from the entrance, making you flinch at his sudden arrival. it frightens you how you didn’t hear his footsteps approaching as you always do. however, those feelings wash away with the waves of cold breeze brushing against your nape, sending shivers down your spine.

it reminds you of the day you had confessed to him, and you had dragged him to the rooftop, same location in the exact same weather, where he had rejected you before frankly asking you to give him a chance at getting to know you better. the day, all you could think about were the points about how iwaizumi is so likeably unlikeable. you had always thought of him as a foreign creation, something made so intricately with extreme focus so as to avoid all chances of faults and mistakes. iwaizumi, to you, wasn’t someone who you despised because of your differences or rather, how perfect he is. dislike would be a strong word to summarise the emotions you initially had towards him, indifference would be a better term.

albeit, you find it humorous how your feelings towards the said boy have changed over the span of just a few weeks. you wouldn’t say it’s because you ‘fell’ for iwaizumi, but rather because you got a chance to look at him without filters. it’s as if you got a chance to meet him backstage, away from all the roles he has to play about being an ideal student and an ideal child for every parent out there. yeah, maybe his kindness and captivating personality played a role in changing your opinions towards him but, most of it has been because you were able to notice the puddles of similarities between him and above, above the impression that iwaizumi and you belonged to different worlds.

“if you’ve noticed, i always come to the rooftop if i don’t feel well,” you mumble above the sound of wind howling around with slight disappointment evident in your voice. perhaps, after all this time, you had at least expected him to look for you on the rooftop everyday, knowing that the only place you’d ever choose to hide yourself is under the vast expanse of sky, in front of the cityscape.

“is that your test paper?” he asks, pointing his index finger towards your hand, and that’s the moment you realise you’ve been holding onto it for a while now. iwaizumi takes it from your hand with slight hesitation in his actions as if he’s taking all the measures to not provoke you. however, the words that leave his mouth suffice of all the incitement his actions could’ve offered. “geez, you’re getting scores in single digits.”

a chuckle rolls off his tongue as he goes through your answers, making you groan before you snatch the paper from his hands. “it’s my first time,”

there’s an undertone of solicited jealousy in your voice, a glint of anger seeping through because even if your scores have always been a few levels before iwaizumi’s, they never hit the single digits until now. you wonder if he would believe you if you said you always received perfect scores up until second year of middle school. call it a change in air or whatever, but switching schools in the middle of your elementary school years turned out to be an awful choice since your grades fell down by a few percent; and despite being able to recover them to the point where you could maintain a reputable position in your grade, they never reached the same height again as they used to.

much to your and your parents’ disappointment, your grades declined further in highschool. while the reason could be the extreme curriculum that high schoolers have to follow, you like to blame iwaizumi for that. you’ve been in the same class as him for two years now and every time he receives an award, something inside of you dies. you aren’t jealous of his achievements, nor do you think he doesn’t deserves the compliments and honours he gets. you spent two years looking for the reason behind your indifference towards the campus crush, only to realise that you’ve been maintaining your distance because he reminds you of everything you could’ve been if things didn’t go the wrong way.

iwaizumi sighs, pressing more of his weight against the railings, leaning towards the as in an attempt to look further down. “you should get a tutor before finals. i mean, i’m always down to—”

“can you stop acting like nothing happened?” you cut him off, half-annoyed, half-impatient. originally, you wanted to stop talking about academics; but then it occurs to you how normal iwaizumi is, as if you didn’t have an argument and haven’t been talking for almost a week now. while you admire him for his ability to strike a conversation in all situations, even under heavy circumstances, something about it this time didn’t sit right with you.

“what happened?” he asks, but it’s almost as if he has been expecting you to ask you this question.

and at the same time, you hope he doesn’t find you weird for bringing this up after you’ve told him to call it quits on you. “i broke up with y—”

“we weren’t even dating in the first place,” ouch, you think, and it didn’t occur to you how hurtful it sounds until you heard it from iwaizumi himself. “and if you think i’m giving up just because you think i look better with kyoka, then you’re wrong.”

“do you ever just look at me and wonder why you fell for me?” you let your words replace the silence looming above you and iwaizumi, allowing your eyes to meet his’ as if they’re having a conversation of their own. “because i do,”

“i’m not as good as you— not even close to being as good as you. i was an average student and now i’m getting scores in single digits, i’m neither good at art, nor at sports. i’m not as kind as you, i get into fights, get detentions, i can’t help you with council works, i can’t help you with anything because you already know how to do everything.” there’s a smile dancing on your face for some reason. perhaps, you’re hoping for him to realise his worth, finally accepting that he deserves someone better thank you. “don’t you think you deserve someone who is almost, if not as, perfect as you?”

another trail of silence follows as you attempt to decipher the look on his face. you take a step back, running your mind all over the mess you’ve created, and you end up wondering— what’s the point of this? you’ve been selfish for so long, it shouldn’t hurt to stay that way for a tad bit longer. even before you had realised your feelings for iwaizumi, you were aware of the impossibility of the two of you; so being selfish in this case was a luxury you never had the chance to choose. it was a game of push and pull from the start. you spent days playing with his heart, making him believe that you were desperately in love with him, and when you tell him the truth, iwaizumi accepts it like just another as-a-matter-of-fact about life. that’s when you realised you didn’t deserve iwaizumi, not by a long shot.

perhaps, you don’t deserve iwaizumi at all, not even the small parts of him you’ve been able to experience over the past few weeks. you don’t know if you’d be able to continue living your life the same way without iwaizumi, watching him pursue someone else— someone better— but it’s everything you wish for him. while iwaizumi is everything you’ll ever need, you can’t have him settle for someone less. after all, nothing in the world could compensate for the shortfall.

“is that how you think of me?” he chuckles as if you cracked a joke. iwaizumi doesn’t spare you a glance for the next few seconds, letting his eyes linger over the invisible patterns he’s creating with his fingers, on the railing. there’s a desist but you don’t think he’s waiting for an answer to his question. it’s like a verbal punctuation, like a semicolon before he exhales heavily, turning his gaze back to you.

“yn, did you know i failed in english in middle school?” he begins just like any one another as a matter-of-fact conversation he would initiate during lessons. “i’m good at sketching but not at painting, i do even the simplest of calculations on paper, can’t spell assassination without autocorrect—”

“no way,” you interject, letting your eyebrows crease as you look at him in disbelief. well, of course, you wouldn’t think iwaizumi hajime would have trouble spelling assassination, if anything.

“yes way, i really can’t.” he clarifies, emphasising the ‘really’ to make sure it sounds believable. “i once burned coffee, i have terrible sleeping habits, i’m lazy, i fight with my sister all the time, was almost suspended in primary school for beating a kid and—” another impromptu pause and he takes a step towards you, leaning closer than you already were, resting his forehead against yours. “— i’m in love with you.”

it sounds like a heavenly confession in the way his eyes look into yours as if you’re the only thing worth looking at. his hands slip into yours at the right moment, giving your heart the push it needed to pace relentlessly as if it knew no boundaries. his lips curl into a lovesick smile as he interlocks his fingers with yours. “i think we make a perfect match.”

you slide your hand out of his’, “you sure do know how to shut me up,”

“and i know of many ways to do that,” you notice his lips curl into his signature smirk, one that makes you smile involuntarily as well.

the two of you bask in silence as it blankets you under the comfort it’s offering. you hate being in situations where there’s no absolute answer and your mind keeps oscillating between two choices that you can’t bring yourself to choose from. it’s humorous and equally irritating how one moment, you think you’d be just fine without iwaizumi and the next, you feel like drowning when he’s not next to you. perhaps, it’s the mood of time, the feeling of forever. the belief that you both could live and die by your word and never regret a thing. from what you could decipher, iwaizumi has always been in love with everything around him when he waltzed into your life as if it’s his own; and now that you’re taking your steps into his, slowly and gradually, all you want is to be a part of that. you would wake up thinking about how iwaizumi and you are like parallel lines— always close, but never together, but then you’d go to bed with the belief that somewhere, in some timeline, perhaps your paths were meant to intersect. you wouldn’t say it is love, but you couldn’t say it isn’t either.

at times, you wonder why iwaizumi chose you, and it’s beyond your insecurities about academics and things that separate him from you. it’s rather a rhetorical question, one that iwaizumi, probably, has already answered, but you couldn’t help but ask again— why me. you have always been a nuisance to those who know you. despite receiving unconditional love from your parents and relatives, one would always hear them complain about how much of a bother you could be. however, you’ve never heard iwaizumi complain about it. it’s as if he knows you can be handful, but then again, his hands are always empty when it comes to you. you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t pursue yourself if you were in iwaizumi’s shoes. you’re too busy being lost in your own worries and concerns that you can’t see the person who adores you to death; and if somehow you do, then it’s impossible for you to believe you could be of so much important to someone that they’re willing to embrace single piece of you as if it belongs to the museum.

“yn, get that you’re scared. you might feel that we won’t make it and that’s okay. i’m not asking you to disregard your worries. i respect them, and in return, i’m asking you to respect me.” iwaizumi says out of the blue, replacing the silence with his melodic voice. “you don’t have to give an answer now. we can stay the way we’ve been, no labels, i won’t force anything upon you. in other words, i’m asking you to let me like you—”

“and then one day when i suddenly feel up to it, i’ll accept you then,” you cut him off, there’s a smile on your face before you playfully hit his arm. “seriously, iwaizumi? quoting a dialogue right now?”

“i mean it, though.” he pulls you into a hug, chin resting above your head as he draws circles on your back, and you give in as if there’s no better place in the world than his arms. you may not be sure about him, or your feelings for him, but if it means you can spend a few more seconds in his arms, then you don’t mind reconsidering your decisions.

“i love you,” his voice is no louder than a whisper and, you’re sure it wouldn’t have been audible if you weren’t next to him, with his arms around you. “i apologise for taking so much time to say this, and it’s fine if you think it’s rushed. take your time and sort your feelings. all i know is that i love you, i always have, and all i’m asking you is to let me love you.”

his last four words ring in your head like an alarm. you look up, his grip loosens around your waist but never lets you out of his hands— there’s a puddle of emotion in his eyes. you see love, you see sadness, and fear, it’s a given. a smile rests on his lips but you could feel the hesitation in his fingertips soak through your shirt and exude through your skin. his words are the same, but it’s the first time you think of the possibility that maybe, he’s scared too. the future is predetermined and nothing could refute fate’s design. but if, even for a brief second, you can have the opulence of stars aligning in your favour, then you’d want to welcome it with arms wide open and a heart ready to walk into the storm.

“can i kiss you?” albeit not the words you wanted to say at the moment, you don’t mind the intent. however, your doubts cave in when his hands ghost up your waist, feet taking a step away from you without a second thought.

“no,” it feels like your heart has stopped. “you’re scoring in single digits. i think you should focus on academics instead of wanting to kiss a guy,”

“gosh, iwa. that’s brutal.” and the very next second, it comes back to life as your lips curl into a smile. “are you going to tutor me?”

“yes,” you chuckle at the cheery smile on his face as he takes your hand in his, planting a soft kiss on your palms. “and we can kiss after your studies.” well, it’s unlikely that you’d be able to get a good score in just three months, especially now that you have iwaizumi to serve as the main source of distraction; but the unlikelihood of falling in love with him? zero, because you realise that he has always been in love with you and you just caught up to him.

NOTE. if u made it till here im gna kiss u and wish that you only have good days from now

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boyfhees · 2 years

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1 : 45 PM

W. mentions of food

atsumu doesn't like how this is going.

"daddy," his eyes lands on his daughter's frowning face, and while it pains his heart to deny her request, a certain voice inside his head keeps telling him to not fall for her tricks again. "please,"

'no 'tsum, you already gave her a lot of sweets this week,' he can hear you saying in with hands on your waist, as if you're giving him a lecture again. 'what if she gets cavities?'

and while he understands your concerns and his duty as a responsible dad, his responsibilities stand a bit fragile when it comes to his daughter's innocent requests— which may not be so innocent right now because she's asking him to give him candies, reassuring him about how she wouldn't tell you about it.

he looks at the box of candies resting on the top shelf, his heart almost giving into her request before he shakes those thoughts off his mind. "no, princess, we can't,"

"but why?" she whines. 'because i don't want to sleep on the couch again,' he wants to say. you love sleeping next to him, clinging onto his arm or burying your face in his chest, but he needs to be humbled at times, and usually when you have to remind him that he can not fulfil all her requests just because she's the apple of his eyes.

it's quiet for a while. maybe she understood, he thinks. she'd be upset, reciting trails of 'i hate you daddy,' — which atsumu despises, really— he'll get her talk to him eventually. he takes a sigh in relief, almost, until he feels little fists tucking around his sweats, eyes brimming with tears.

oh shit.

if her tears are daggers to his chest, his tiny grip with pleading eyes are salt to the wound. while the candies could be the remedy to his pain, your angry face is like a sword at his neck, the couch being the prison cell. and atsumu would do anything, to not go to the prison, and yet help little his princess.

so he lifts her up, patting her back as he mumbles the same request, again. "how about you wait for mom to wake up and we'll ask her?"

"why do you keep talking about mommy?" she pulls back, hands still around his neck as she stares at him with slight annoyance. "daddy are you scared of mommy?"

and oh boy, she doesn't know.

however, atsumu has a reputation to maintain. "no— 'm not scared!" he exclaims. "but, wouldn't it be better if daddy, mommy and princess enjoyed the candies together, hm?"

she averts her gaze, shuffling in an attempt to get him to put her down. "you're just scared mommy will make you sleep on the couch again,"

"what?" he asks, even though he's sure he heard her clearly the first time.

"nothing!" he flinches at her loud loud, afraid it'll wake you up. or maybe, he just wants you to wake up and handle her yourself. "but daddy, if you don't give me the candies, i'll tell mommy that you broke her favorite cup."

did he hear her correctly? words get stuck in his throat, eyes wide open at the smirk plastered on her face. he pulls her closer, cupping her cheeks, "baby, what are you—"

"i saw you throw it in the bin after mom fell asleep," she cuts him off. "if you don't give me candies, i will tell her." and it was at this moment he knew, he's done for.

atsumu doesn't waste another second and grabs the box of candies, hoping you don't wake up anytime soon. while a part of him soothes at his daughter's precious smile as she grabs the box with her tiny grabby hands, his heart is still not at piece knowing that she holds a very sensitive information against him.

while keeping secrets was a pact between the father-daughter pair, he knew she'd snitch on him if you pressed enough, and he had to make sure that doesn't happen. "now, princess, promise me you won't tell mom."

"tell what?" crap. "and what are you bo— are those candies—tsumu!" you rush to your daughter, snatching the box away before she put another candy in her mouth. "what did i tell you?"

"i'm sorry, baby, you know i can't—"

"—can't resist her, yes i know. but you have to! it's about her health. you can't just hand her a box full of candies!" you put the box away, crouching before your daughter. "and you, little missy, didn't mommy tell you to her for candies if you wanted to eat one?"

"but daddy said i can have as many as i want if i don't tell you that he broke your favorite cup."

"when did i say that?!" atsumu gasps dramatically, pointing at his daughter, with panicked eyes settling upon your livid face. "y/n, let me expla—"

"miya atsumu, do you have a death wish?!"

taglist in the rbs.

#prod. — caelin.#album. — haikyuu.#im tired of reposting old works but i dont have time to write anything new :(#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu fic #atsumu fluff #atsumu drabbles #atsumu headcanons

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boyfhees · 2 years

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TAKE TWO | diluc

PRECIS. amidst rain and regrets, diluc asks you for another chance ( 1.58k )

GENRE. angst, bittersweet maybe, exes to ?

WARNINGS. they only talk like, 5 times in the whole fic, mentions of breakups, reader has emotional trauma bro, tea ( literally ) bc im a coffee supremacist, unedited version my old friend 🫶

NOTE. for my bestie and the best writer on this site @wolfhookk like u can never not fall in love with her writings, someone tell this to her until it's imprinted in her head. bff ily i hope u like this red hair man angst 🧎 ps there are a lot of lang leav references. ALSO THANK HER BC IF IT WASN'T FOR RI I WOULDN'T HAVE WRITTEN ANOTHER GENSHIN WORK ANYTIME SOON LMAO

“i don’t usually invite my exes to my house,” diluc shoots you an apologetic look, or maybe that’s how you perceive it. you were once good at reading his expression, now you no longer know how to do that, for the person in front of you feels like a stranger.

he doesn’t say anything, not that he has to. diluc thought it was fate, but then he realised it’s a mere coincidence. it rained without a forecast and you being the kind soul you are, let him stay over until the rain stops. and even though you told him to not read too much into the situation, you don’t think diluc understood a word, judging from the way he still looks at you with a lovelorn smile.

something shifts in the air after you step into the kitchen, almost half-a-way through the process of making his preferred choice of tea. there’s a dramatic pause right before you pour it into the cup, watching the wisp spin into the despairing air surrounding you in the kitchen. you take a step back, running your mind over all the moments you and diluc spent together, looking through the first mention of him in your memories— it’s gone, you conclude, faded or perhaps, hidden behind the blankets of sorrow and remorse.

your attention shifts back to the tea as you proceed to pour it into the cup, wondering why you still remember how to make his favourite tea the way he taught you, or how much sugar he prefers. you press your mind to come up with an excuse before all these things, they don’t make sense to you; not anymore.

“you still buy tulips everyday,” his voice drives you out of your thoughts. you pick up the tray, making your way into the living room, placing it on the centre table before taking a seat by the farthest corner on the couch.

your gaze follows his eyes, settling upon the wilted tulips resting on your kitchen counter. the truth is— you don’t want to buy them, but something about watching the tulips every time you pass by the kitchen puts you at ease. you don’t know the reason, you don’t wish to know either. the first time you bought tulips was for diluc’s first birthday after the of you had moved in together. it wasn’t the first time; in fact, he had a habit to buy flowers for you. a new bunch, a new arrangement, every single day. but something changed after that birthday. whether for good or for bad, diluc never purchased anything flowers except tulips. he says it’s because they reminds you of him, and you reasoned it saying that you’re down to settle with anything that makes him happy.

though, you don’t know if that’s the case anymore. the tulips, perhaps they’re for you. a reminder to never forget what you had, and a mnemonic for everything that you both could’ve been before everything withered down.

“and the tea still tastes how it used to,” he mutters above the silence intoxicating the atmosphere. there’s a sense of nostalgia in his voice, a hint of yearning in every word that rolls off his lips; and it all contradicts the words he said to you two years ago.

his words would’ve meant a lot more if he said them before he made mistakes that could never be corrected and before you decided to cut the string and walk on a separate path. that’s the tragedy of growing up— you’ll run out of feeling something new for the first time. the sad thing is; you only get so much of those moments— a handful if you’re lucky— and then you spend the rest of your life turning them over in your head.

maybe that’s why he meant as much to you as he did, and why you held on for so long even after knowing things wouldn’t work out. you didn’t know it back then, but he was the last time you would ever feel anything new.

“diluc—” your voice is almost quite, a bit above what classifies as a whisper, dripping with hesitation and groundless assumptions. “this means nothing.”

the need to classify that stays far beyond your comprehension, but you take a look at him and realise that he knew it, nonetheless. his hopeless eyes tell you that it’s all because of the impromptu rain; the way his gaze flutters all around the room, never residing upon you hints that diluc knows you invited him out of decency, and there’s no point hoping for this to morph into something more.

“i know,” he smiles, because you invited him over as someone you used to know; someone you wouldn’t have looked back at if not for the comical play of destiny.

you let silence lead the next few minutes. the sound of rain fading into nothing as it ceases to pour; a question pops inside your head— is he in a relationship? it’s stupid, knowing it’s none of your concerns now that he isn’t a part of your life anymore. your mind knows it’s useless, your heart craves an answer, and you wonder if the mind ever answers the heart. the way it keeps conjuring up what’s no longer there. you don’t know why you keep swinging like a pendulum between pulling him close and pushing him away, which you know the mirage will never be true. but the heart does not have eyes and the mind cannot resist when it asks, just one last time.

diluc puts the cup back on the tray, mumbling a soft thank you before wiping his hair with the towel around his neck, the one you had given him before letting him inside. “i heard you never dated after we broke up,”

there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and it takes you a few minutes to recognise it for what it was— remorse. he looks at you, half defeated, half hopeful, as if he’s aware of the damage inflicted upon you, all because of his mistakes. you feel something linger in the silence, a broken fragment of memory, or perhaps the essence of unsaid words pressuring the air, forcing you to succumb to sorrow. it takes you back to when you were looking at him, desperate and with your hands into front of him to intertwine with his, and he called your name as if it pained him to say it. you don’t realise when it had stopped raining, or when the clock struck eleven, just the way you didn’t realise when the love between you and diluc shattered down to a chore.

he stands up, typing something on his phone which seems like texting, before his attention shifts back to you. “i’ll get going,”

“right now? it’s eleven at night. you can stay—” and a pause. it’s reminds of the very first time you had asked him to stay over; the night that ignited sparks of something between you and him that set ablaze when you kissed him because of a game of spin the bottle. “i mean, it’s too late and dangerous to drive back, especially in this weather.”

“i’ll stay at a friend’s for the night.” he states, you nod in response. there’s a glint of disappointment in your voice; perhaps you were hoping for something more, perhaps a closure— a chance. you don’t know why you had high expectations when you swore to never see him again. falling in love is dangerous. it’s like holding your heart in your fist and letting it go— one finger at a time. you know it’s getting out of your hold, slipping through your fingers, yet you can’t do anything. there comes a point when you’ve let it get out of your grasp, surrendering it to someone; and falling out of love is like walking hand in hand with death because your heart lies somewhere astray, with someone else, but you have to move on.

because first love is never the first person you give your heart to— it’s the first one who breaks it.

you follow him to the door, noticing his every single move as he slips into his coat, followed by his shoes. you realise that you’ve always loved him more than yourself; so much more than even after all these years, every single piece of your heart years for him, or even a part of him, knowing that if there’s someone responsible for all the days and nights you’ve spent spilling tears on your pillow, it’s him. it’s like a tender sacrifice; like a faint silence felt in the lost song of a mermaid; or the bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina. it’s in every considered step you’ve taken in the opposite direction of him, and his every word that drove you away from him.

diluc stops as you were about to shut the door, looking you in the eyes for the very first time that night. “i know everything that happened was my fault,” he begins, and you wonder if you’re ready for another one of those apologies he offered you after you broke up with him, but his eyes tell a whole ‘nother story. “but in future, if you find yourself in a position to fall in love again, please fall in love with me.”

and the second you tried to tell yourself that you weren’t in love anymore was the moment you realised you were, and you’ve always been.

taglist in the rbs.

#prod. — caelin.#album. — genshin.#genshin x reader #genshin impact #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc angst #genshin angst #diluc fic #genshin fic #diluc headcanons #genshin headcanons #diluc drabbles #genshin drabbles #naur i need to know ab popular genshin tags i cannot copy the hq format 😞💔

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boyfhees · 2 years

Text

🗗 OUT OF CHARACTER | k. sakusa

warnings. food mentions, very very slightly suggestive, mentions of knives and killing lmao isa i swear this ain't angst ( 0.8k approx. )

note. for isa ( @kiyelle ) my love ! happiest birthday, and i'm sorry this is like a day late. hope u like this ^_^ pls ignore that i haven't written /properly/ in like over a month help i forgot how to not make everything literal crack isa im so sorry

"i'm pretty sure we don't use cleaver knives to slice salted eggs," oh, you know that. you don't need sakusa to remind you. however, a little experiment here and there, once in a while, doesn't really hurt.

"why do we even have this at home?" a scoff slips off your tongue as you press your lips in a thin line, checking out the anatomy of the said kitchen appliance, before shooting him a menacing grin. "you're not planning to murder me in sleep now, are you?"

"hm, perhaps?" he cocks his head slightly, mirroring the expression on your face before snaking his arms around you as he pulls you closer. "you do make living a tad bit harder."

you chuckle, that's the plan. a few beats pass away in silence as he admires you with utmost adoration in his eyes. there's a smile on his face and it resonates of love.

you missed these warm mornings with sakusa. you missed waking up next to him, the taste of his food, his kisses, his touch, him— maybe, it's the price you pay for dating nation's top volleyball player? it's funny. and if in case sakusa is capable of hearing your thoughts right now, you well aware that he'll laugh at you for being madly in love with him, despite knowing that he has fallen harder, and so deep that he's not being himself anymore.

"is there a way i can make it easier for you?" you mumble with the same lovestruck smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you step closer, capturing his lips with yours.

he smiles into the kiss, tucking on your waist a little to frame you against the kitchen counter. well, kissing is a good way to make his life easier. he can lose calories and spend less time at the gym, ultimately spending every second by your side. sakusa hopes it makes sense, even though he's certain it doesn't.

but logic is far out of his reach when you're in front of him, in his arms, your lips on his instead of preparing breakfast; he's at home. logic is the last thing he needs right now.

you try to pull away, only for him to lead you to the couch, a few giggles spin in the air as you lie down, one hand cupping his face while the other brushing through his hair. a dust of pink rests on his cheeks, and what you're doing right now is very out of character of him. sakusa likes to kiss you, he can do it all day, but not like this. not when you need to tend to your breakfast before it burns, not when your phone is ringing and he's doing everything to stop you from attending the call.

"omi—" you attempt to pull away again, only for him to deepen the kiss; and you give in, like the lover drunk soul you are. you don't know what happened to him in past few weeks while he was away from you. however, you surely don't complain.

another series of ringtones, another fight to pull away. you feel him smile, one that fades away quickly as you turn over, pinning him down to the couch before grabbing your phone. "kiyoomi. i need to take this call,"

and from what sakusa could hear, it's your workmate. he's checks the time, you're late by two minutes. his nose scrunches up in annoyance, it's just two minutes. sakusa has been known of his punctuality and it surely does come to him as a surprise when he realises that you're late for work and he doesn't mind any part of it. ( you know, he doesn't mind if either of you are late to work if you both are busy kissing each other )

he looks at you, fiddling with your fingers, waiting for you to hang up. just how long is it going to take? sakusa is going through multiple waves of emotions and one of them is purely because your workmate is disturbing you while you were busy doing some important work.

"no i'm not sick, i'll be there— ouch—" you shriek as he nibbles on your neck, a sinister grin on his face and you shift away from him, before answering your friend's questions. "no no, it's my cat. it scratched me."

sakusa smirks, some kind of cat you have.

"what's with you today?" you finally hang up, his hands sliding in yours as he pulls you closer. "you're acting like a five year old right now. so clingy, and for what?"

"i don't know, maybe because i was out for a tournament and haven't seen you in like two weeks?" that sounds like something atsumu would say, and you're sure sakusa has been spending too much time with the said miya that he has gone crazy. "maybe."

you see, being roommates with atsumu has it's own flaws. the last time they went for a tournament, sakusa came back with a weird habit of singing old, rusty songs after getting drunk. the time before that, atsumu rubbed off on him in the worst ways possible and sakusa hasn't stopped using deez nuts jokes ever since. his antics right now, you're sure he acquired them from him too. but again, who are you to complain?

sakusa's lips trail along your jawline, down your neck before he looks into your eyes once again. "you should call in sick today."

"i can't lie, you know it." now, that's a lie.

he frowns. "you lied about not knowing me when that reporter asked you about our relationship,"

"i can't lie to my employer, kiyoomi." you clarify, chuckling as you kiss his palms.

"we can get onto that." there's a mischievous hint in his voice as he kisses your fingers, eyes enunciating a wicked plan. "tell him you have some things to take care of at home,"

"like?"

"like," and he pins you down the couch once again, leaning down as he smiles against your lips. "looking after your five year old clingy boyfriend."

taglist in the rbs.

#prod. — caelin.#album. — haikyuu.#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa headcanons #sakusa fic #sakusa drabble #hq sakusa #haikyuu imagines #sakusa imagines

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boyfhees · 2 years

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𓈃 SAME OLD LOVE BEEF | t. kuroo

❝ and we'll wait for the 'it was real all along' moment. ❞

PRECIS. after getting humiliated by you on school's forum in the first year, kuroo made it his primary goal to get back at you. now, two years later, when you have seemingly forgotten about the incident, you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend to drive away the boy who has been following you around lately.

your goal is to graduate peacefully and kuroo's new goal is to be your fake boyfriend and embarrass you so much that no one would want to date you ever again.

GENRE. enemies to lovers ! au, fake dating ! au, slight mutual pinning, humour, fluff

WARNINGS. mild profanities, kuroo makes very bad chemistry puns ( and pick up lines ) embarrassing and cringe ( i tried ) disgustingly cute at some point literally just two people experiencing love for the first time. + tba in the respective chapters

TAGLIST. comment / send an ask to join

NOTE. oh okay Okay . . . finally writing something after months, i hope my writing hasn't taken a turn for the worse. wanted to make this a oneshot but thought separate chapters would be better. this is not a smau. it consists of written chapters, which would take time so please be patient with the updates. ps im very proud of that poetry in chapter titles lol

CHAPTERS!

❝ one — yn my old friend ❝ two. — the one i lo(ath)ve the most ❝ three. — you make it hard to sleep ❝ four. — maybe we're destined to be ❝ five. — star crossed haters !!!

EXTRA!

you can request extra scenarios, or even make some if u want. anything listed below is either something i was unable to incorporate in main plot / unrelated to main plot but too good to leave out

،، one. coward and coward-er

taglist ( open ) : @awkwardaardvarkforever @is-this-a-fish-market @iwaso @hyeque @whorefornoodles @lovelytaes-blog @dani-shitting-around @luvwonies @itachislut @perqabeth @blue-peach14 @akebcshi @mysteriouslyclassyphantom @khinux

#prod. — caelin.#album. — haikyuu.#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu long fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo fic #kuroo long fic #kuroo fluff #haikyuu drabbles #kuroo drabble #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu longfic #hq kuroo #@ — sol !

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boyfhees · 2 years

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𓈃 SAME OLD LOVE BEEF | t. kuroo

CHAPTER ONE. yn my old friend.

your goal is to graduate peacefully and kuroo's new goal is to be your fake boyfriend and embarrass you so much that no one would want to date you ever again.

GENRE. enemies to lovers ! au, fake dating ! au, slight mutual pinning, humour, fluff

WARNINGS. none that i found ( 3.44k )

NEXT | MASTERLIST

it was a crush.

kuroo doesn’t like admitting it, but fifteen-year-old him had a tiny crush on you in first year. he couldn’t help it— you were pretty. first day of highschool and you were already turning heads, having both boys and girls looking at you as if they’ve never seen a human before; or rather, a human this gorgeous. you probably set the record— twelve confessions on the first day of highschool, all for you. it was as if you were the ruler, and people were competing to rule the kingdom by your side.

but kuroo isn’t like that, you see. his mind fetches far beyond the ideologies of love at first sight etcetera etcetera. instead, he had the perfect plan for this : get your attention, become your friend, make you fall in love. it’s his way of securing what he wants, his way of making sure that when he professes his undying love for you, you wouldn’t have any choice, but to give in, because you’d be in love with him too.

well, that was the plan, and plans usually don’t go the way you expect them to. the first few steps were perfect. so perfect that kuroo has never seen anything perfect-ier. you reached him out first— even though it was to inform him about a chemistry quiz— kuroo felt like a businessman who secured all his deals. he felt as if the profit was knocking at his doors and all he needed to do was to find the key. so far, a few things were certain : you know him. you know him as kuroo tetsurou, a chemistry nerd, wants to play for the school's volleyball team, is a nice guy and can be your potential academic rival. the next step was to let you know that he is also someone who’s interested in you, and he, once again, had the perfect plan for that.

the school’s forum. that’s the plan. you’re used to seeing your pictures on the school forum, captioned with all sorts of compliments and sugar-coated phrases. kuroo just happened to like every one of those posts, and happened to leave a comment anonymously, and once again, he just happened to comment ‘they look like my future s/o :smirking_face_emoji:’ but this time, it wasn’t anonymous. call it over confidence, but kuroo knew it was time to take bigger steps. it has been two months and if not a partner, kuroo can at least score you as his close friend. he has three years to make you fall for him.

consequently, you just happened to open the school’s forum and come across his comment because of all the gossip spinning around, replying with ‘you look like someone i'd reject next :/’ and that, my readers in christ, was kuroo’s villain story.

it may not sound that serious, but for the fifteen year old kuroo, it was the worst insult thrown his way. it was a wound to his dignity and image— and still is, actually. since then, kuroo has thrown aside every single goal he had for highschool, plotting a perfect revenge for all the embarrassment you have given him through that one comment. had it been a personal thing, kuroo wouldn’t have given it a second thought; but you took it to a public stage— even though he knows he initiated it first— and left him no choice but to avenge himself the same way. usually, he isn’t the type to hold grudges, but your reply to his comment— which he now calls a ‘joke’— made it hard for him to attend school. his popularity sky-rocketed for all the wrong reasons, like the ones along the lines of ‘volleyball captain rejected horribly,’ and ‘omg isn’t that the guy who confessed to yn publicly?!’ and ‘man i would kms if my crush did me like that :pensive_face_emoji:’ like no, there are two things that kuroo thinks people need to get straight. first, kuroo didn’t confess, he was dared to— even if it’s a lie— and he did, like the man he is; and second, he’d rather date bokuto than have a crush on you. ( in his opinion, dating bokuto is equivalent to child rearing. ) things turned awful, people patted him in the back and told him to stay strong, girls laughed and boys took a sigh of relief knowing the kuroo wouldn’t try dating someone for a good six months because after all, he still had his ‘mr. steal your partner’ face. if that wasn’t enough, seniors teased him too and at some point, the news reached other schools in the neighbourhood, making him consider shaving his head and changing identities for a good two months.

now, years later, when he has finally rebuilt his reputation as the hot and smart volleyball captain, giving the ‘smart is the new sexy’ a whole new definition and view, establishing himself as the kuroo tetsurou of nekoma high who’s breaking everyone’s hearts because he’s about to graduate this year, kuroo has just one thing left undone for highschool : his revenge. and it seems like god is on his side because you just happen to be his classmate for the whole year. to sum it up, kuroo has a thousand ways to take revenge, and he also has 365 days to execute each and every one of them.

“staring at them won’t help you with grades,” yaku mumbles, dragging kuroo out of whatever’s going inside his head.

“i’m not staring? i’m looking at the board and their head is in the way,” and even if he’s staring at you, no one can stop him. he’s hoping for you to disappear or something if he stares at you for long enough. “besides, who would even look at yn’s ugly face.”

yaku shoots him a repulsed look as kuroo gets back to writing, muttering something under his breath. at this point, he’s a hopeless case. there’s not a day that goes without him complaining about you. you would pass by the gym without sparing him a look and he’d go feral like a rabid dog, for no reason. one glance at you looking at another boy and kuroo feels like breaking something, probably someone’s bones. yaku shakes his head in defeat. “i can’t believe you’re the same person who had a crush on th—”

“keep it low!” kuroo looks at you, and then yaku, and then back at you to make sure you didn’t hear. he acts as if having a crush on you was the most embarrassing thing ever; hint : it was. “i swear if you bring it up again, i will lock you up in a room with lev.” yaku doesn’t understand the captain’s intent with the said words but he plays along, nodding as the two of them focus back to the lesson.

and so, the morning rolls by quicker than expected, from a coincidental meeting with you in the teacher’s office to scheduling a match with karasuno for next friday. your day has been great, really, unlike kuroo’s. you know he’s sulking over something, judging from the scowl on his face, though you’re unaware that he’s sulking over the fact that you’re paying him no mind. you don’t even look at him, pretend as if he’s invisible, as if there’s no kuroo tetsurou and if there is, then you can’t bring yourself to care. however, your day could’ve been better if you didn’t have a guy following you around for the past few days, coming up with weird and embarrassing displays of confession every other day despite facing several rejections.

even fame has its disadvantages, and perhaps that's why you don't feel like attending school most of the days. the first few days were great. you couldn't have had a better situation to use 'being pretty is difficult' everytime someone confessed to you. things were great, now they're not, and that's how you found yourself in the infirmary with your friend.

"you know, you can't use your stomach as an excuse every time you feel like skipping lessons."

"the teachers seem to believe it so why not?" you chuckle, scrolling through your phone. you wonder if they actually believe you or whether they're just playing along; because you've used the same excuse over ten times and they let you get away with it. "besides, the main reason why i wanted to skip the lesson was him."

"hayato again?" your friend frowns, letting out an annoyed sigh. "did he do something again?"

"again? he throws chits at me in the middle of the class everyday, and the worst part is, they're fucking pickup lines." you don't even mind pick up lines but he downright sucks at the art of flirting. you feel a part of you descend whenever you feel a piece of paper hit your back, knowing it's another one of those 'you must be my favourite show because i like watching you.' or something along those lines.

you pick up the bottle lying stray on the table beside the bed, actively suppressing the urge to commit a murder or two one of these days.

"how about you start dating?" you almost spit out the water at her words. "fake dating, i mean."

and you're certain that if you resort to murder, hanae is going to be your first target. it's eleven on a monday morning, your day has been ruined thanks to one of your lovers and now, your own friend, your fire brigade, the one you thought you could look upto anyday, is giving you the worst advice session.

"i know it sounds absolutely ridiculous and probably makes you want to kill me," you're glad she's aware of the facts, actually. "but if somehow you manage to convince everyone that you're in a relationship, hayato would back off."

upon a detailed analysis, her plan doesn't sound that bad. minus the fact that you've always turned down confession and it's going to be hard for you to convince everyone in school that you're already dating, hanae's plan isn't half bad. you don’t think it’s a good plan— fake dating is never a good plan— but it’s sufficient. you can work with it, it’s okay, marginally tolerable. you're not interested in this fake dating thing, not by a long shot, but if that is all you need to make your poor loveless highschool life a little better, then you're down for it.

"okay," you nod, slinging your bag up your shoulders. "let's tell everyone that we're dating."

a pause; you look at hanae, she looks at you, the cycle continues as a few blank stares are shared before she lets out a forced laughter. “you’re so funny, yn,” and you remember thinking what part of your statement was supposed to be a joke. “but i meant fake dating kuroo tetsurou.”

and you’re back to step one— this isn’t a good plan. well, it never was, but now it isn’t even okay. you’ve seen people better than kuroo at nekoma, kenma for example, and yaku, misa too, actually. there are a lot of people who are a better candidate for your fake partner, not kuroo, though; never him. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“i’m not!” she counters, making you sit again before looking at you as if she’s about to present a fifteen minutes long presentation that would boost her grades. “look, he’s popular and isn’t in a relationship either. i see students flocking around him everyday and trust me when i say that he’d love to get away from his ‘fans’.” she waits for your response while you shoot her a dubious gaze. “besides, it sounds like a great idea to be able to say you’re in a relationship, without actually being in one.”

another pause. you’re not buying her words even though the whole reasoning sounds quite reliable. you sigh, grabbing your bag before giving her a look of denial. “no.”

so, you somehow ended up believing that asking kuroo for help would be a good option.

you spent the next lesson thinking about the what ifs and whys, finally reaching the conclusion that you wouldn’t know a thing until you try it. you know kuroo, have heard of him, have also had a certain incident that stirred up a drama in the first year, but he’s nothing more than just a classmate to you. you don’t talk to him except when it concerns grades and assignments and other academic stuff. the last time you actually had a conversation with him was in the first year. things were wonderful and the two of you were desperately happy. it was nice, kuroo’s presence didn’t bother you; but then things happened and his hostility towards you made him a stranger for yourself.

you don’t think much— try not to— and make your way to the gym as soon as the lesson ends. your feet pick up a pace while your mind is busy brainstorming for why you choose him out of everyone else. well, you do have a reason, hanae gave one to you already, and the other reason can be that he’s good looking, even if you will never tell him that. you expect yourself to mess up this whole thing and embarrass yourself in front of good-looking volleyball boys, but that’s for another day; because as said previously, you’d never know what would happen unless you try it. what you don’t expect is for yaku to restrain you out of the gym and consider if he should let you see kuroo for a good five minutes.

“i don’t have the whole day, you know,” you smile, managing to grab his attention yet again, looking through his concerned eyes, and not understanding the reason as to why he’s so worried. “got classes to attend. how about you just let me see him—”

“no, no you’re—” he whines, letting a soft tsk slip off his tongue before he pulls you aside, away from the gym entrance. “you can’t— i can’t let you meet him. we have a match in a couple of minutes.”

you frown. “and what does that have to do with me?”

“because if he sees you, kuroo will back on his bullshit about how you don’t pay att—” he pauses, and you raise your eyebrows before yaku laughs awkwardly, shifting his gaze to a stray stone lying around. “er— i mean, he’s in his captain mindset right now. you can’t see him.”

and you spend the next thirty minutes trying to process his logic, which is honestly beyond your comprehension. you don’t think kuroo is feeble enough to lose his composure after talking to a random person just a couple of minutes before his match. the kuroo tetsuro you’ve heard about is much more capable, actually.

“yaku— oh,” that’s lev, and you notice yaku snickering as soon as his voice reaches his ears. “yn, are you here to see captain? should i call him for you?”

there’s an unsolicited enthusiasm in his voice, though you fail to recognise why he sounds so excited while yaku, on the other hand, looks like he lost a very important game— which he may, actually, if kuroo actually ends up getting distracted or whatever; but you know he wouldn’t. kuroo isn’t the captain for nothing, and it’s a luxury for nekoma to have him on the team.

you simply nod, a slight laugh escaping your lips as lev almost trips on his way inside. the beads of laughter from inside suggest that everyone is in a good mood, and yet you fail to understand why yaku looked at you like he’s going to harm someone very critically. either way, you wait, repeating the words you’re going to tell kuroo in your head to rehearse. see, there can be two outcomes— either he’s going to take up your offer, or he’s going to run his mouth around and tell everyone that you’re looking for a fake relationship for whatever may be the reason, even though kuroo doesn’t come off as someone who’d want to embarrass others.

a minute passes, and then you notice the gym door open with a creak as your eyes settle upon kuroo. now, you haven’t seen kuroo in what feels like two years. technically, you see him everyday, he’s in the same class. but you don’t pay attention to him like you’re doing now. you don’t look at him and go, ‘oh he has grown much taller,’ or ‘his muscles look chomp-able’ okay, maybe you’re crazy for the second one; but the point still stands. you’ve been so busy with your life and you failed to notice how . . . attractive he has become, although you don’t want to admit it.

“you’re going to say something or—?” his words pull you out of your thoughts, and then you realise that his voice has gotten much deeper. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to pay attention to these things but whatever, it’s the least of your worries right now.

“right, so, i have a proposal.” he looks at you enigmatically, or maybe it’s more of a cryptid stare. a shallow pool of hesitation settles inside of you, but it certainly doesn’t stop you from conveying your thoughts. “date me.”

kuroo doesn’t think he heard you correctly the first time. “what?”

“look, you know how hayato has been pestering me around even though i’ve rejected several times and i figured he’d back off if i tell him that i’m in a relationship,” a pause, you look at him for a response and a look of disbelief is all you’re able to decipher for his expression. well of course, you don’t expect him to praise you and call you a genius for this idea. “also, i’ve heard that you’re not interested in relationships right now but students chirp around you everyday, it must be annoying. if you take my proposal, i can chase them away.”

kuroo thinks you sound like a dog if you put it that way. he doesn’t understand why you think it’s annoying. in fact, he enjoys attention a lot, and not because he’s an attention seeker, but because he earned it himself. after you almost ruined his life, kuroo picked himself back up from the rock bottom, gathering pieces of his broken heart, and that’s why he’s standing here, in front of you, as the school’s volleyball team captain. ( according to yaku, it isn’t that deep. he’s simply being dramatic. )

besides, kuroo doesn’t think your offer is beneficial, or logical, even. since everyone knows he’s not interested in relationships at the moment because of nationals, it would seem suspicious of him to get together with someone all of a sudden, especially you, who had already rejected him in first year in front of everyone on the school’s forum.

either way, your proposal doesn't seem half advantageous to him.

“sorry, i’m not—” a pause, he contemplates his decisions for a second, and then it strikes him that on a second note, your offer doesn't sound half bad either. to put it simply, his only goal for the year is to take revenge, besides winning nationals; and instead of letting him approach you, you’re standing in front of him, giving him an open invitation to come into your life and flip it upside down. yeah, if he puts it that way, kuroo doesn’t think it’s a bad idea at all. “actually you're right, we should date.”

“are you sure?” you ask, quite flabbergasted that he actually accepted your request.

“yes, sounds like a good deal to me,” kuroo nods, you’ve never seen him that excited for anything except while doing chemistry lab experiments. in your mind, kuroo doesn’t look like someone who can be trusted; but looking at him now, you think he actually means it when he says he’ll take up your odd request and help you out. “well, i have a match so see you later, sweetheart.”

you ignore that endearment— choose to— because rule number one of fake dating states that everything is superficial, and there’s no point wasting your time thinking about something that’s nothing but just an empty word. you take out your phone from the pocket, sending a text to hanae, telling her that things actually worked out between you and kuroo. you don’t know why you feel so elated about it, neither would you like to reflect upon that.

kuroo, on the other hand, looks like he just won olympics. he had to help you, you're an old friend after all, and now that you’ve let him inside your life once again, he has the perfect plan to take his revenge— to be your ‘fake’ boyfriend, and embarrass you so much that no one would want to date you ever again.

NOTE. HELLO FINALLY IT'S OUT !!!! 😭😭 this took so long i'm sorry, i kinda lost interest in this for a few days and started writing other stuff help. lol but anyway i'll continue this now and i hope u like it fr we love kuroo and yn being dorks who can't see they're in love el em ae o 😁🙌 lmk ur thoughts 😔👊

#prod. — caelin.#album. — haikyuu.#@ — sol !#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu long fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo fic #kuroo long fic #kuroo fluff #haikyuu drabbles #kuroo drabble #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu longfic #hq kuroo

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boyfhees · 2 years

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⌕ INSOUCIANCE | k. bokuto

n. ❝ casual lack of concern; indifference ❞

PRECIS. four times you chose him, one time you didn't ( 3.22k )

GENRE. angst, unrequited love, childhood friends to ( ? )

WARNINGS. angst yay, idk if there's anything else but lmk if u spot any ! ps. i used an editor but if there r mistakes kindly ignore <3

NOTE. for @okkatsudon's somebody new collab ! amy hihi i swear i would've posted this yesterday but power suddenly went out and i couldn't use my laptop since it wasn't charged either aND IM GLAD IT'S JUST 3K I WAS AFRAID IT MIGHT TAKE 5K WORDS TO FINISH THIS GN :( hope u like this help idk what is this tho ????? happy reading lmao

when you chose bokuto as your project partner in middle school, his world flipped over. no, you weren’t someone with bad grades, and neither was he. middle school bokuto, if anything, didn’t expect you to pick him, out of all the remaining thirty-four students in the class. and when he asked you about it later that day, your response was rather astounding.

“i want to get to know you.” that’s what you had said to him in front of his house before proceeding on the way back yours. your worlds left him dazed for days. he wondered if you meant it— of course, because usually, people don’t really want him as their project partners, for he’s too ‘child-like.’ bokuto simply couldn’t bring himself to believe your words. ‘i want to get to know you,’— okay, you can. he doesn’t mind. in fact, he’d love to be friends with you, but choosing him as your project partner was what surprised him the most.

“why do did you choose me?” he asked again, on the day before submission, and you shot him a didn’t-we-go-through-this look. “i mean, people usually don’t—”

“because you’re like a kid.” you blurted out, catching him with surprise yet again; and you went on about how he’s so loud— which made him frown a bit as a chuckle rolled off your lips— but, he’s loud in a good way; in a way where a single smile from his lightens up the room. you tell him about how you admire him for his positivity, and bokuto opens up to you about his ‘dejected’ phase, which you thought was an exaggeration until you actually found him under the blues outside the volleyball gym three days later.

days transitioned into weeks and weeks into months, bokuto found himself spending every minute by your side. he had never met someone like you before. you didn’t tell him to shut up whenever he got loud, but instead, you’d scream with him in the middle of the streets, laughing obnoxiously in convenience stores, hoarding candies to spend your nights watching volleyball recaps and fuel his obsession. you’d spent hours listening to the one serve he saw his idol do that made him want to become a professional player. you indulged yourself into conversations you knew nothing about. you talked about his interests as if they were your own, bokuto never had someone like you.

the second time you chose bokuto was at a middle school graduation party, when your friends forced you to bring someone along and the first name to cross your mind was his’. you spent three days wondering how to ask him— it’s not a date. you’re not my date. we’re going there because my friends forced me. bokuto, are you listening? this is not a date, don’t get me wrong— that was the most nervous he had seen you in seven months. he had a blast, watching you struggle with words for thirty-minutes; and you occasionally slapped his arms for laughing but he simply couldn’t stop, especially with the adorable pout resting on your face.

you thought asking him to be your plus one would ruin things, for one’s plus one is supposed to be their date, and bokuto was simply your best friend. you considered cancelling your plans until the last moment, worried that something unfortunate would happen, but bokuto didn’t seem to care. on the night of the day before the party, you found him standing at your doorstep, asking your mom if you could help him pick an outfit for the graduation party. it was late, almost eight in the evening, and bokuto said something along the lines of, ‘i promise to walk her back home by nine-thirty,’ before your parents finally gave in, letting you spend time with him.

that night, all your worries and baseless concerns flew away with the autumn winds. you and bokuto did everything except picking an outfit for him. the moment you stepped into the bokuto household, his sisters stole you from him for fifteen minutes sharp, wanting to see the person their brother had been talking about restlessly; and if bokuto hadn’t barged into their room, dragging you away, they wouldn’t have let you talk to him that evening. ( he also got hit with a pillow on his face for storming into the room but that’s for another day. )

the goal was to pick an outfit for him, but as soon as you entered his room, your mind remembered everything, but the reason why you were at his house in the first place. you spent the next few minutes fawning upon his figurine and manga collection, talking about all the volleyball posters in his room while enjoying the snacks his mother offered along the visit. bokuto showed you his stamp and hello kitty sticker collections before you both got down to watch the repeat telecast of your favourite show together.

you reached home that day, around ten. bokuto came to drop you, of course, and your parents literally had to stop him from kneeling and apologising because he thought they wouldn’t let the two of you meet again. it was a sight to see as he blabbered about how he was so scared when his mother reminded him that it’s ten pm and he needs to go to bed in twenty minutes. you sneaked into your living room at two in the night to talk to him over telephone, as the two of you had planned before, and didn’t get a single ounce of sleep that night.

long story short— you didn’t attend the party, and neither did bokuto. you both were found passed out in the living rooms of your respective homes, finally going to bed at around seven in the morning, only to sleep until three in the noon. your blood ran cold when you woke up, realising that you overslept. afraid that bokuto must be waiting, you ran to the celebration venue, only to see the texts he sent you about oversleeping and forgetting about the party. the two of you surely did miss the graduation party, but spent the whole day together, visiting almost every arcade store just to kill time.

the third time you chose bokuto was in highschool, as your seatmate. he didn’t see you for months after that day at the arcades. you caught a really bad fever, one that had you admitted in the hospital for two weeks after it turned out to be anaemia. when you were in the hospital, Bokuto was busy writing finals and highschool entrances, and by the time exam season was over for most of the students in the country, you were busy giving the tests you missed because of your illness.

bokuto never thought you’d attend fukurodani with him. you had always talked about attending nekoma, or shiratorizawa, if you could get in. you even talked about going to other countries to pursue better education. bokuto was convinced that he would possibly never see you again, until you showed up on the first day of highschool as his classmate, catching him by surprise just the way you did for the very first time in middle school.

“what? don’t tell me you forgot me already.” you scoffed, and bokuto didn’t leave your side that day, not even for a brief second. he stuck to you, saying he would take you around the school and help you get familiarised, as if it wasn’t the first day of his school. you both were almost lost before a senior escorted the two of you back to your class.

you both got detention on the first day of school for fooling around the campus, spending two hours cleaning your classroom ( most of which was just a waste of time) his parents blew up his phone with texts and calls, and you were waiting for yours to do the same. when you informed your mother that you'd be late, it didn't take her a second to ask if you had met bokuto.

it was obvious, really. you never were the type to stay out late with friends, but bokuto has always been an exception to your rules. you dislike overly talkative people but you listened to him as if he was a synchrony of a melody and a melancholy. you looked at him as if you saw the whole universe in his eyes. you didn't think twice before violating your own boundaries for him, offering bokuto an open invitation into your life.

and just like that, the first half of your junior year passes by in a blink. they say distances bring people close, maybe it's true because you and bokuto seem inseparable. you had started spending nights at each other's place, watching movies and speed writing your incomplete assignments a few hours before school started. the day bokuto was selected into the school's volleyball team, he saw you cry for the first time.

he had seen you cry several times actually, but that one time was different. it was just teary eyes with soft sniffles, not just a few drops of tears rolling down your cheeks. bokuto has seen you cry, but it was the first time he saw you break into a heavy sob with tears streaming down your cheeks as you pulled him in your arms, telling him how proud you are. it was his first time seeing you cry for someone else.

you talk about his interests as if they are your own, so watching him make it to the school team as their captain felt like being an ace. you started attending his games and bokuto always reserved the front seat for you. watching bokuto never felt boring because he played for both of you. every score, every save, every serve, it was for both of you. the moves were his, the score was yours, for bokuto believes he wouldn't have pursued volleyball if you didn't support him back in middle school.

things were amazing, and the second year rolled in with an unexplainable feeling blossoming inside bokuto's heart. your touches started leaving him breathless. every hug made his heart skip a beat or two. everytime you cuddled, bokuto wondered if you could hear his heart beating crazily, and whether your heart did the same. to take his mind off these things, bokuto introduced you to the team's new setter— akaashi keiji.

despite being a year older than keiji, the three of you clicked well. well, tried to, for akaashi seemed stoic most of the time, making you wonder if he hated loud people. after all, you and bokuto had always been a little handful together.

but akaashi was a nice guy, you knew it. your eyes never missed the way his lips curled into a smile whenever bokuto laughed, or the way he always offered to help bokuto with the tiniest of things, and especially the way he gave into the captain's eccentric behaviour. akaashi keiji was like a spark, and you saw bokuto's whole world on fire.

you pulled the setter into the pit of detentions as well. bokuto called it a tradition, that every person joining the two of you would have to suffer a detention to be an official member of bokuyn circus— his words, not yours. you thought akaashi would be mad, for he isn't the type to get into troubles, but instead, you saw him at his highest, laughing as if he had never been happier. as though, if happiness was a thing, it would be that moment, and he's waiting for the word to catch up to the feeling.

when akaashi asked if you wanted to be his partner for the inter-prefectural debate and represent your school, your world flipped over.

it was at that moment when memories from middle school slipped inside your head. a look at bokuto, and you thought— so this is how he felt.

the fourth time you chose bokuto was on the day of the debate. he'd be lying if he said the idea of you and akaashi travelling together didn't bother him, so bokuto offered to drive you to the venue himself, since you both lived closer and he had a sister with a driving licence. when he saw you present your argument on the stage with the same passion he had for the sport, he felt as if he fell for you all over again. in fact, he unknowingly fell a little deeper for you ever since he met you and when he realised, bokuto was already at the rock bottom, ready to fall even deeper.

that was the first time bokuto chose to accept his feelings, wanting to make you first and hopefully, his last as well; because once upon a time, there was you and that's it. that was his story, because anything less than you wasn't true and anything more didn't make sense.

when you didn't win the first prize, bokuto cried his heart out. there were tissues all over your hotel room as he reassured you that no matter who won the contest, you had always been the winner in his eyes. his hands slid in yours as he told you to not cry, while the tears were streaming down his face like a waterfall. he held you in his arms and recited words about how you did your best and despite the result, the whole was proud of you for getting second position in the prefecture.

you nodded, thanking him for his words, and then you disappeared— completely— never returning to your room for the next forty minutes. you said you’d be back soon, but it had been forty minutes, the sun’s setting down, and you hadn’t returned. akaashi’s name didn’t even cross his mind. on this way to the lift, bokuto didn’t expect to hear soft strings of your voice from akaashi’s room. eavesdropping wasn’t something he condoned but he found himself standing against the setter’s room, hands hesitating to unlock the door and when he finally did, the sight of you cradling akaashi in your arms reached his eyes.

it was understandable, of course, akaashi was hurting more. you looked at bokuto and told him to shush because you didn’t want to disturb akaashi, who possibly dozed off in your arms, his head on your shoulders. bokuto didn’t mind, taking a mental note to apologise to akaashi later for crying like a child when he should’ve been there for both his friends. he left without saying a word, leaving you and akaashi alone since bokuto understood the need, though a part of him ached at the sight of you having letting akaashi sleep in your arms when you didn’t even hug bokuto when tears brimmed his eyes.

maybe this is what it feels like to share, bokuto thought, because his life, he had you all to himself, and the same applied to you. he wondered if you felt the same after letting someone, who was not him, in your arms. bokuto was convinced that the ‘two of us’ is no longer valid, for he’d have to include akaashi. he didn’t mind, akaashi was his best buddy, and he almost slept with the newly established thought until you showed up outside his place, asking if the two of you could have a run down to seven-eleven.

all this thought vanished at the sight of you, and the only thing flooding his mind was the way your hand occasionally brushed past his’ as you both strolled down the neighbourhood. you talked about people’s interests as if they’re your own, but that night, you talked about akaashi as if he was a part of you. your words flowed along the lines of how similar the two of you were, and the way you both have identical approaches to various issues. he had seen you compliments akaashi a thousand times but bokuto didn’t understand why a part of him wanted the night to be over quickly.

events followed along, first term examinations arrived and after that, time seemed to fly even faster. bokuto would rush to the library for study sessions and he’d see you with akaashi, talking about a book he recommended to you and how much you enjoyed it. during group outings, you’d share theories with akaashi and he’d expand them beyond the canon plot. all with bokuto walking one step behind because he didn’t know anything about your conversations with him; or rather, you never told him.

you’d spend nights texting bokuto about everything you and akaashi talked about as if he wasn’t there to listen. and no matter how much it pained him, bokuto loved to see you happy, so he played along right into your games. you’d ask and he’d tell you all about akaashi antics during volleyball practice. bokuto would tell you everything he knew about akaashi and hope that one day, you’d go back to how you both used to be. because even with having you by his side, he missed the days and nights you spent talking about him.

when the third year arrived, bokuto thought it’d all be over soon. no, he didn’t hate akaashi— he couldn’t— but he envied him. he envied him when akaashi walked between the two of you on your ways back home. he envied the way you smiled at akaashi even at the silliest actions and treat him as the centre of your world. he envied how akaashi started being the person you’d look for during hard times, or way you started cancelling plans with bokuto to visit bookstores with akaashi. he envied the way you looked at akaashi— because you looked at him as if you saw yourself inside his eyes.

but bokuto wasn’t a coward. he never learnt how to give up. when akaashi was in hyogo for one of the literary contests, you started zoning out in broad daylight, as if you suddenly didn’t know what to do. that’s when bokuto called you over to his place. as much as he wanted to spend time with you, the offer was selfless. bokuto would rather have you crying in his arms than watch you spend the day alone in utter despair. it came to him as a surprise when you started talking about how much you were missing akaashi, even though it had only been two days since he left. he bit his inner cheeks when you said you wanted to hug him. and before you could say more, bokuto’s words cut in like a knife.

“i like you.” that’s what he said. it was purely unintentional. he didn’t want to present such a wacky confession. there was a pause as bokuto looked at you, anticipating an answer. you didn’t say a thing; and the next second, there was a text from akaashi on your phone, and you ran out of bokuto’s apartment as if you never heard his confession.

he was proud of confessing to you but in just a few months, the pride morphed into sadness. because back then, the now nineteen year old bokuto didn't know you had other choices. he didn't know he'd have to be in love with you and leave it at that, because his first choice has always been you but, you chose akaashi over everything else.

taglist in the rbs.

#album. — haikyuu.#prod. — caelin.#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu angst #bokuto x reader #bokuto fic #bokuto angst #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto kotaro #haikyuu long fic #bokuto long fic #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #bokuto headcanons #hq angst #hq bokuto #akaashi keiji

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boyfhees · 2 years

Text

🗗 LOVE AND OTHER CHALLENGES | k. akaashi

precis. a tale of you and akaashi intertwined in strings of marriage and yet experiencing love for the very first time. or maybe, it's second.

genre. arranged marriage, friends to lovers, fluff, minor like very minor angst, humour ( wc. ≃ 5.37k )

warnings. fem ! reader ( sry bffies ) characters are aged up, some smooching at the end so slightly suggestive, mentions of food, lmk if you find anything else !

note. very impulsive, very self indulgent, very much word vomit, i dont know what this is please i was half asleep when i wrote eighty percent of this so bear with me. i'd still tell you to read this, though. missed my sleep for this so you better reblog :‹ also this whole thing would make a tad bit more sense if you know the meaning behind all the flowers mentioned here :›

it’s been a while since you last saw akaashi.

well, that is if you ignore the fact that he’s sitting right in front of you, next to his parents while your parents are sitting next to you, the fragrance of strawberries and vanilla spinning in the air along with soft giggles and fluttering gazes.

there’s a bouquet of irises, daffodils and certain other flowers you couldn’t seem to identify resting in one corner of the table. the clinking of glasses and spoons is distinguishable above the faint melodies of tchaikovsky’s playing in the background. but above all raises a question, one that pulls both you and akaashi out of your trail of thoughts.

“do you want to talk among yourselves?”

oh yes, please.

and with one nod at his mother, you both excuse yourselves to a table resting in the last corner of the restaurant, away from everyone’s eye. well, away from your parents’, at least.

“so how have you been?” is the first thing akaashi says, after thirty minutes of marriage discussion between both the families.

you smile. “good, i suppose.”

silence.

you can swear you and akaashi were better than this in high school. well, to sum it up, your conversations never ended with an awkward silence back then; and that would’ve been the case if you were sitting in front of him right now, meeting him like, five years later, thanks to an arranged marriage proposal brought up by your parents.

“are you—”

“so—”

you both speak in unison, a series of laughter following soon after as you feel the atmosphere lighten.

“you can go first.” he offers, and you gladly take the proposition.

“are you okay with this?” the question catches him by surprise. honestly, you too think it’s a little awkward to bring it up abruptly. however, your parents are sitting a few tables across, probably guessing the names of their grandchildren, and you were never the type to beat around the bush. “i mean marriage, keiji. i know you didn’t expect to see me years later just to get married, none of us did.”

another set of silence follows, but this time it’s not awkward. probably because you’re expecting the rejection. and honestly, who wouldn’t? even if it were you in his place, you would refute the proposal, despite the fact that you two have known each other for years or whatever. however, his next words leave you wondering if your ears are working perfectly or not.

“i am perfectly fine with it,” he says shooting you a sweet smile, one that stirs a familiarly unfamiliar feeling in your stomach.

“you don’t have a girlfriend?” now, this is when you lose your composure, coming out as an idiot to him but being your friend for years at least made him realize that ages ago.

he chuckles. “what makes you think i do?”

“only fools reject that face,” where’s the lie? anyone who has seen akaashi ends up with two conclusions. one, he already is in a relationship and second, he’s not interested in one. anything apart from those two seems out of character and overall, just doesn’t make sense.

your brows furrow as he lets out a playful laugh, averting his eyes to the window next to your table. and you notice the way his eyes crinkle up into a crescent shape, his blue irises peeping through the gaps.

“it’s not funny, keiji.” you deadpan. “as much as i’d like to marry someone i know, i also want you to be comfortable with this relationship. i know this can be hard for you so please, be honest.”

he nods at your words and it seems so sarcastic, as if he finds humor in your concerns about a relationship that isn’t even official yet.

“what about you?” you look at him with a curious gaze. “is it not hard for you to marry someone you don’t love?” and oh boy, where do you even start from?

“i had a crush on you back in highschool.” that is everything that takes him to look at you with eyes wide open, his heart accelerating a little for an unknown reason.

and talk about timing. before he could utter a single word, you see both of your parents approaching the two of you. you feel your cheeks heating up a little because of the recent confession and if you’re not wrong, if your eyes aren’t deceiving you, then there’s a faint tint of rose dancing on akaashi’s cheeks too.

“did you talk?” your mom asks

“we did,” you reply with a smile, taking a look at akaashi before setting your eyes upon your parents again. “however, we need a little time to decide.” you could hear the dads whispering, an unnoticeable frown resting upon your mom’s face which you manage to notice easily.

“that’s fine! we’re not running out of time, are we?” and that’s a blatant lie. time might not be a problem, but akaashi is. and knowing him, he has several contradicting thoughts about marriage. you’re not trying to be a ‘know it all’ about him, but as someone who has witnessed him paying no attention to romantic aspects of life, you can at least guess that the major reason behind this proposal is not your mother, but his mother who probably complained about her son’s lack of interest in love.

you shoot her a thankful smile, finally bidding your goodbyes before akaashi interjects the departures.

“wait,” he interrupts a little too loudly, having a few stray gazes floating at him. “i’d like to marry y/n.”

and there’s only one way to describe your amusement — the woman was too stunned to speak.

“oh god, this sounds like one mov—”

“kaori.” you cut in through his rambles about how much of a love ridden movie your life sounds like. “this is not a movie, it’s my life. i’m having a crisis over here!”

“what’s the issue, yn?” the atmosphere gets heavier for a second. “didn’t you want to date akaashi?”

“i wanted to date him, not marry him, especially after years of no contact!” you whine in a hushed manner, afraid that your mother will hear you. “besides, i have a feeling this won’t work.”

“you can start by dating, though.” she suggests. “look, it’s not like you both are complete strangers. plus, akaashi seems to like you— platonically i mean— and that’s better than marrying someone you’ve never heard of in your entire life.”

well, that’s true.

“yeah, i know—” and then you hear your mom calling you downstairs, an exhausted sigh escaping your lips. “mom’s calling, let’s talk later.”

you rush downstairs, only to see akaashi sitting in the living room with a bouquet of pink camellias and a saccharine smile dancing on his lips. and you remember asking ‘didn’t we meet just two days ago’ to yourself before greeting him with an soft ‘hello’ and taking a seat next to your mother.

“i was wondering if we could catch up a bit,” you look at him with pure amusement. a part of you is panicking because your parents are right here, hovering their gazes over you and akaashi as if he’s asking you out on a date.

unless, it actually is one.

“of course, she can!” and you hate it when your mother answers the questions meant for you. “she has nothing better to do except reading that weird manga the whole day.” too much information, mom, too much.

however, you’re glad she doesn’t remember the name of the manga. because imagine calling a manga weird when the writer is sitting right in front of you, and is about to marry your daughter in a few weeks.

anyway, you excuse yourself to your room, shuffling through the closet for a decent dress, applying light makeup for the sake of looking presentable. you almost call kaori again before realizing that you certainly have better fashion sense than her.

you rush downstairs once again, this time with a slightly flustered face because what if you don’t look good? however, the look on akaashi’s face says otherwise.

“you look gorgeous.” filter, keiji, where’s the filter. your mom giggles under her breath, eyes your dad about something you fail to figure out. your parents are more excited about your marriage than you, and it makes you wonder if marriage is just a plan and they just want akaashi in their household. ( let’s be honest, they always liked akaashi a tad bit more, only because he doesn’t read manga all day, but who’s gonna tell them? )

not a word is shared after that. both you and akaashi walk out as he offers you the flowers he bought, you assumed they were for your parents.

“so, how have you been?” this time, you break the ice, striking up a conversation which doesn’t feel as awkward as the one held two days ago.

“i’ve been working on a new manga so things are a little hectic,” he replies, leading you inside the bakery down street, pulling a chair for you to sit on. “but besides that, everything is good.”

and it’s the manga once again. you chuckle, scanning through the menu. “i wonder how my mom would react if she knew that her favorite boy writes manga.”

“let’s not tell her that,”

and then what follows are the beads of laughter and tales about all the years you’ve lost. you learn that bokuto plans to ask his partner out, which is some kind of ‘big boy decision’ if phrased in bokuto’s words. akaashi tells you about a certain yellow haired setter— and he’s not the point of the conversation anymore. it’s his brother, all because akaashi loves the onigiris at his restaurant. and that’s the only lovesick expression you’ve ever seen on his face.

akaashi being a love sick fool for miya onigiri. yeah, sounds about right.

“we should go there someday,” he offers, more like he’s saying you must go because he loves that place and you would too. “you know, after getting married.” now that, you didn’t expect that.

“i still don’t get why you want to marry me.” and it’s an honest question. people may call you a fool for trying to sabotage your seemingly perfect future married life, but you aren’t taking risks. well, that’s what we learnt from all the mangas we’ve read, right?

he sends you a blank expression, trying to hide his smile. “because you like me?”

“don’t bring that up!”

“are you embarrassed?”

“stop!” you cover your face with your hands, trying to calm your heart down. you’re regretting confessing to him that day. and thinking about it now, it was another one of your impulsive decisions that you regret. “besides, i liked you.”

a dramatic gasp escapes his lips. “so you don’t like me anymore? what’s the point of getting married then?”

oh, and you’re sure he’s teasing you, so you decide to give into his little games. “let’s say it’s because of the mangas.”

another trail of laughter follows, another series of both of your hearts skipping a few beats, another piece of memory floats into your mind. you recall how you and akaashi met in a comic store, wanting to buy the recent edition of a manga that had only one copy left. so just like any other smart person, you both divide the price, proceeding to read it together at the nearby park.

that day, you arrived home late— very late. so late that you received an earful from your mother. but you could care less. that was the best manga reading session you’ve ever had, and even better than best meet cute or whatever they call it in the stories.

and just like that, the morning passes by in usual conversations. suddenly, akaashi doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore. well, he never was, but meeting him two days ago made you feel like you aren’t meeting the keiji you once knew. there was an unfamiliar haze in his eyes, and even though you knew the person sitting in front of you, you didn’t feel like knowing him at all.

however now, there’s a familiar smile on his lips, one that made you fall for him, a knowing glint in his eyes, one that made you drown in his eyes every time you looked into them. the fuzzy feeling in your stomach returns, and you thought it was easy to bury someone’s feelings.

“do you really not have a girlfriend?” you tease the question again as you both walk out of the bakery.

“i don’t, yn!” he whines. “how many times should i repeat that for you?”

“oh c’mon, a crush, maybe? there’s no way you don’t have someone you like.”

“you’re right, i do have a crush.” a pause. you didn’t expect that. or maybe you did, that’s what you’ve been wanting to hear, because there’s no way the akaashi keiji doesn’t have a crush. so why is your heart aching so much? “but i’m marrying you, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

and there it is again, the butterflies and all, and an eye roll initiated by you. you don’t know what to do, but one thing is for sure— akaashi has a crush, he’s marrying you, so in short : your relationship won’t work out.

that’s how you muster up the courage to speak your next words. “let’s call off the engagement.” you look at him with dull eyes, still managing to pull a pleasant smile. “don’t give up on the one you love for me.”

it hurts so much, you’re sure saying that took ten years from your life span.

“hm, is that so?” and then you see him inching closer, one hand resting on your shoulder while the other reaches out for your hair, making your heart pick up a higher pace. on the cue, he pulls out a leaf stuck from your hair, taking a look at it before setting his eyes on your again. “i don’t think i’m giving up on the one i love by marrying you.”

and then you zone out for a good ten minutes.

“i hate him, kaori! i hate him so much!” you yell into your pillow— her pillow, actually, while she’s sitting on the other side of the bed, watching you exhibit animal behavior ( her words, literally )

she sighs for the tenth time. “do you, though?”

“gosh, i’m in love with him!” you exclaim into the pillow again, squealing and giggling like a five year old kid who got her favorite figurine in her happy meal. you’re sure you hear her saying ‘pick a struggle’ but honestly, you’re busy thinking about akaashi to even respond to her.

you were such a fool to think it was impossible for old feelings to return. well, it’s just a family gathering. what could go wrong? you remember concluding this the day you were getting ready to meet his family. and much to your surprise ( or maybe not ) everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong.

it took you everything to not call akaashi hot. wait, actually, akaashi has always been hot. the girls in high school didn’t fawn over him for nothing. but akaashi keiji, 22, shonen manga editor who has been publishing mangas under a pen name is hot.

in those five years, akaashi had the glow up ( again, not like he ever needed. more like glow ups need akaashi, really ) and that’s when you knew that ‘it’s impossible for your feelings to return’ was bullshit, because the moment he stepped in, your heart started having a field day with those damned butterflies.

“i don’t know what he means by that, though.” you sit up, looking at your friend who’s painting her nails, tired of the mess that your life is. “he says he loves someone, but he’s also not giving up on them by marrying me. what do you think that means?”

kaori sighs. “you’re so dumb, it baffles me.”

“hey!” you slap her arm, pouting at her response as you slide under the covers. “whatever, i’m going to sleep.” another lie, because bold of you to assume you could sleep when you have akaashi keiji hovering all over your mind.

kaori’s right, maybe you’re stupid. it’s really stupid of you to marry someone who clearly has a crush, someone who clearly harbours feelings for someone and oh god, you feel so selfish. but maybe that’s what love does to you. for once, you think, being selfish isn’t as bad as people make it to be. after all, with love comes several other challenges, and one of them was making him fall in love with you too.

oh, well, everything side, you need to sleep. that’s the most difficult challenge right now, considering your brain won't stop playing the previous events with akaashi.

nothing helps, you need to be brainwashed.

how does one even fall so deep in love that it’s hard to sleep?

anyway, you make your way to the balcony, careful to not wake your friend up as you slip into your cardigan. you wonder if it’s actually colder than usual, or if it’s just your mind. maybe it’s just your mind. because you look at the sky, the moon looks prettier, the sound of wind hustling through dry leaves feels like music to your ears. you pull the cardigan closer to your body, a smile dancing on your lips. however, a notification from your phone interrupts your sweet moment.

akaashi :

you should sleep — 3 : 37 am

you :

how do you know i’m not sleeping? — 3 : 37 am

akaashi :

look to your right :) — 3 : 38 am

and then you see him waving from a distance, standing next to a lamp post as a faint gasp escapes your lips. you run downstairs, cursing as you almost drop one of the antiques resting on a table in the living room.

“what are you—” you’re cut off by akaashi wrapping his scarf around you, a wisp of air emerging from his lips.

“you should stay warm.” he whispers, cheeks adorned by dust of red tints because of the cold winds engulfing the two of you. “and you should sleep, too.”

you chuckle at his words. “you’re one to talk.” chortles back, offering you to put your hand in his as you both begin on your little stroll.

it’s cold, it really is. you feel the cold breeze penetrating through your silk trousers, and you curse yourself for thinking it would protect you from the temperature outside. march has never been this cold, but no one can predict weather, can they? all you can say is that you’re glad akaashi’s holding your hand inside the pocket of his jacket, a faint blush waltzing on your cheeks as you smile against the soft scarf.

it smells of calendulas, a fragrance almost similar to how you’d describe home. akaashi always had a sublime taste when it comes to fragrances.

“what are you doing here, though?” you ask when you finally recall the reason why you hurried downstairs anxiously.

“is it wrong for me to see my fiancée?” he responds with a smirk, eye you through his peripheral gaze.

you take it back when you said akaashi feels familiar. he does not. seventeen year old akaashi didn’t have the confidence to tease you about everything you do. to be honest, it was the other way around. and you can imagine him saying, ‘oh how the tables have changed’ with a smug grimace. you wonder if he has been spending time with kuroo or one of the miyas.

“is your mom aware that her son is out here with his fiancée instead of sleeping?”

“she wouldn’t mind,” well, he’s right. “she really wanted us to get together ever since high school.” and you feel your cheeks heat up at his words again. actually, scratch that, it’s not the words. it’s the cold.

yeah, it’s definitely the cold. because nothing else seems plausible.

“you’re flustered,” his words pull you out of your thoughts, your eyes wide open at his statement. “do i fluster you, yn?”

such a tease, you curse in your head. “you? fluster me? the delusion is high.” and you’re such a liar for speaking those words as if they’re nothing but the truth.

you both stop in front of your house— again, it’s kaori’s house. he looks at you, you look at him, and the time freezes. there’s a comforting sensation in between you two. while everything around is shivering in cold, the calloused moon watches your heart melt at his sight. you wonder if it’s obvious that you’re still in love with him, even after all these years.

“and when i do this?” he steps towards you, inching closer as his head dips down towards your lips, halting a few centimeters away. your heart is pacing infinitely, as if it’ll jump out of your chest. if that wasn’t enough, his hands find refuge on your waist, pulling you closer than you already are.

and you’re only thinking about kissing him when he chuckles, stepping back, leaving you perplexed with a flushed face. “i think you should go back.” and that’s all he says before bidding you a good night as you watch him walk away through the dimly illuminated streets.

you smile.

maybe sleeping isn’t on tonight’s list.

the next week almost feels monochromatic.

you haven’t even heard from akaashi. no calls, no texts, let alone hanging out together. while he has quite a tight schedule considering the busy person he is, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he’s spending time with the so-called person he has a crush on.

the calls from his parents don’t stop, though. his mother hits you up every one to two days, asking if her son is treating you well, and you couldn’t help but just smile and say that yes, he is. well, you certainly can’t tell that you haven’t heard from her son in three days now, and everything makes you feel a little anxious about the marriage proposal.

so, even when reading manga doesn’t seem to calm you down, you decide to seek comfort in an old friend.

“just so you know, yn,” he says after much consideration, taking a sip from his hot chocolate. “akaashi isn’t the type to play anyone, especially you.”

“i know,” you sigh, resting your arms on the table in front of you. “but i’m scared.” he puts his hand above you, rubbing soft circles on the back of your palm in an attempt to provide you solace.

tanaka would know something about love, considering he spent a major part of his life pinning over kiyoko. and if there’s something you learnt from his story, it’s persistence. a major part of why you are still willing to have your shots at akaashi is tanaka and his forever inspiring story regarding his love life. ( honestly, it’s something he’s very proud of )

“hey now c’mon, this isn’t the yn i knew in university. cheer up!” you smile at his words, receiving one back in response too. the universe may have deprived you of a potential love interest but it definitely gave you the best friends you could ever ask for. “shit— i have to go. but call me if you need anything, okay?”

and with that, you both walk out of the little shop, him bidding you a soft goodbye with a kiss on your temple before hugging you, something that you appreciate a lot.

they say that if things are set to go wrong, they will go wrong. there’s no stopping. just like now, when you turn around, your eyes rest upon akaashi as he stares at you from across the street. only ten seconds are left before the signal turns green again, and it makes you feel like you’re hanging on the edge of a cliff; only ten seconds to pull up, ten seconds to save yourself, and after that is just an empty void.

but you’re smarter than the girl running across the road in front of you. you’ve always been the smarter one. so you pull out your phone, dialing the number on top of your contact list.

a few rings pass, the signal turns green. akaashi picks up.

“keiji i can ex—”

he cuts you off. “let’s talk later.”

a bus passes by, and akaashi is no longer in front of you.

day five without akaashi.

both the families are busy with the preparations and now that the engagement date has been finalized, tons of responsibilities have been bestowed upon you.

however, everything feels like it has been built upon a pillar of lies. you’ve been tiptoeing around your friends and family, making sure you don’t make it obvious that there’s a huge misunderstanding between you and akaashi. something that can ruin everything.

so, you keep feeding everyone with lies, a little too afraid that you'll make one mistake and you’d shatter everything into pieces.

you’re not sure when the later comes for him. but every second ever since that incident feels suffocating. the thought about calling off the engagement slides into your mind. a part of you agrees. you can maybe postpone the engagement, at least. while another part of you keeps telling you to text akaashi.

maybe you should, maybe you shouldn’t.

what if he’s busy with work? what if he’s busy with someone? well, what happened that day gives him a perfect reason to not marry you and instead, spend his life with the person he truly loves.

and you keep staring at the ceiling, sighing occasionally before your mother comes in.

“yn, are you busy?” you roll your eyes. if staring at the ceiling is considered working then sure, you’re busy; very busy. “keiji’s here.”

suddenly, you aren’t busy anymore. hundreds of questions flood into your mind as you send your mom out of your room, proceeding to fix your look before following her ghosted steps.

“um, my mom sent some takoyaki for you,” you’ve never had a more awkward conversation with akaashi before. you smile, the takoyakis are appreciated, but the flowers in the bouquet are not. you wonder if he actually picked a bunch of yellow carnations with a few daffodils because of their meaning or if he randomly chose them because they’re pretty.

you wish it’s the latter one.

there’s nothing left to say. so you mutter a soft thankyou before leading him out of the door, the atmosphere beckoning that there’s something that has to be addressed before it’s too late. and so, you take the initiative.

“he’s just a friend,” you break the ice, making him look up at you. “tanaka, i mean. we’re close friends. he’s married.”

akaashi doesn’t say a word. all he does is nod before taking his leave and driving away from your place. you wonder if you said something wrong. but there’s something you don’t know, and it’s the smile on his face that accompanies him through his drive back home.

time feels slower when he’s not around.

it’s hard to not panic about the situation when you told him everything, and all he did was nod and leave as if nothing really matters anymore. you can hear kaori calling you dumb for thinking this, but what if he’s in fact disappointed that you weren’t in a relationship, all because he couldn’t be with his crush?

maybe you are dumb, especially for making akaashi sound like worst of the antagonists in those romance mangas.

i need to see him. you whine again and your eyes settle on the scarf he left you almost a week ago. a pause in your inner monologue. yeah, you need to see him.

“it’s 10 pm.” is the first thing he says after opening the door, offering to come inside. you raise your brows looking at his apartment, which is a little too spacious for someone who has been living alone.

“i just wanted to return this scarf,” he takes the bag from your hand, mumbling something along the lines of ‘you could’ve returned this tomorrow.’ but honestly, a scarf is just an excuse. “by the way, thank your mom for the takoyakis,”

“for sure,” he doesn’t even look at you because his eyes are too busy typing something on his phone. you wonder if it’s the love of his life.

“so how are things between you and your crush?” he looks at you with eyes wide open as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. and you feel so stupid for asking that.

“we didn’t talk for a few days but i met her today so we’re good,” he responds with a sweet smile and you can swear, it sounds a little too familiar for some reason.

a trail of silence fills in the room along with the fragrance of hot chocolate that’s emerging from the kitchen. you’re left wondering if you should still agree to this whole proposal. he seems happy with her, you think. and despite all the years you’ve spent pining over him, you have no right to ruin their relationship.

your heart aches, but it’s fine as long as he’s happy.

“you know,” you speak, taking the cup from his hand. “i’d love to meet her some day.” you notice him trying to hide his smile as he takes a sip. and you wonder if there’s something funny about this situation.

“she’s here, as we speak.”

your brows raise in astonishment. “really? where?”

a chuckle escapes his lips— one that you fail to notice— as you whip your head around, looking for her. akaashi thinks you’re cute, especially for being impossibly clueless.

he places his cup aside as he leans against the counter, pulling you closer by your wrist before resting his hands on the corner of your waist. “right in front of me.”

“oh,” and then you look at him with a stunned expression. “wait, what?”

and then cue him laughing at your face as you look at him in disbelief. you step away from him, still processing the situation, because akaashi did not just watch you make a fool of yourself for over a week straight, not only in front of him but also two of your friends. ( your friends don’t even count, honestly. they’ve seen worse )

“i hate you, keiji!” you exclaim, smiling uncontrollably at the relief that sets upon your heart, because no matter how much of a prank it was, the ‘crush’ really did have you on your toes.

he laughs. “do you, though?”

“shut up!” yes, and you still regret telling him about your crush on him that day. to be honest, you regret it even more. “and what if i tell you i cried myself to sleep everyday because of your silly prank?”

he shrugs. “i’ll make it up to you,”

“how?”

and all he does is pull you closer once again, capturing your lips with his as his hands rest on your hips, smirking as you kiss back right away. you’re mad, you really are, but you can never be mad enough to not kiss him back, and snake your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

it feels euphoric the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. akaashi tugs you closer by your waist, a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together.

he pulls back, much to your disappointment, looking at you with love sick eyes and dust of pink sprinkled on his cheeks. “is that enough?”

you press your lips into a thin line, pretending to think before planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “hm, not sure. let’s do it again and then i’ll see if i can forgive you.”

akaashi smiles, kissing you again, this time with a much slower pace as the moonlight graces you both with it’s magic. he tickles your neck, a series of giggles spinning around as you pull back, playfully slapping his arm. he stares at you for a brief second before reaching for your lips once again, mumbling a gentle ‘i love you’ against them as you give dwell into the kiss once again.

and you remember thinking, maybe you shouldn’t forgive him at all.

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