#volleyball conditioning is becoming too much

[sleepyomi]

gift giving with the hq!! boys

a/n: y’all we’ve reached the last first part of the love language series (giving)!!! I’m so excited to be able to start on part two of acts of service, physical touch, and quality time after this. the boys we have today are what I loving refer to as the gentle giants featuring short king daichi because they scream chivalry which makes me scream haha.

ushijima —

it had started during the winter of his third year when ushijima realized just how much the cold affected you. his own schedule and conditioning was focused around him gaining strength and maintaining his health but yours wasn’t. upon realizing this, he had taken it upon himself to make sure you were well taken care of. obviously you could take care of yourself but what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t make you you’re favorite tea when you were congested? or pack you a bento the mornings you had important assignments since he knew there was a chance you’d forget, and carry your preferred lotion and chapstick in his bag since he knew the cold dried out your hands and lips? a shitty one that was what. and if he occasionally kept his favorite hoodie that he knew you loved in his bag along with treats he didn’t eat no one would be able to prove it.

daichi —

with daichi you occupy a good portion of his mind, which means he can’t help but grab your favorite snacks when he swings by the convenience store on his way to picking up his younger siblings. it always puts a smile on your face anyway so why not? if he just happens to do it more often then he previously did, that’s no ones business but his own. if it happens to coincide when you have a bad day too? no one could prove it. on top of that though, when the summer comes to an end, he begins packing an extra jacket in his bag for the even slightest chance your cold, happily giving it you even knowing there is slim to no chance of him getting it back.

aone —

with aone being at the height of his high school volleyball career, it had started when he just wanted to let you know he was thinking of you. a small keychain with your favorite animal on your desk when you’d both had a busy week and couldn’t meet up. a small drawing of a turtle giving you a thumbs up on a post it note the morning you had a speech due. your favorite hoodie of his in your locker the day after you walked home together and had needed to use his. he loved being able to do small things that would make you smile and know he loved you when he wasn’t able to say it himself. the way you always texted him a selfie with the item didn’t help to deter further attempts though it did cause him to quickly lose storage in his phone.

asahi —

hand made gifts all the time. he enjoys making things for you to enjoy that he made himself so it’s like you have a token of his love with you at all times and also because it makes it obvious who made it. he always tries super hard on his gifts whether it’s something material or not. making you a lunch with his is something that he enjoys so much it has become habit and he cherishes making you scarfs, hats, and other articles of clothing as the awed smile on your face when you ask, “did you make this?” with wonder in your voice gets to him everytime. you don’t need to know that he started it back when you were both keeping your relationship a secret and he wanted to see you in his clothes, it ended up working out in the end.

do not edit, claim, or repost my works as per @sleepyomi

[dreamlandforever]

@writersmonth Prompt: Day 22 - Sunscreen

Fandom: Teen Wolf | Sterek WC: 800

AO3

XXII. Sunscreen | 

“Derek, why does our son look like he has the same skin condition as Lord Voldemort?” Stiles asks carefully, holding Eli by the shoulders so Derek can see him.

“I have no clue what you are talking about.” Derek says simply, getting a few cold drinks out of the cooler to hand to Boyd and Jackson, sitting next to him on the beach chairs. The two take the drinks gratefully, but completely ignore whatever is going on.

“Derek.” Stiles says again, too calmly to be anything good. “Look at our son.” 

Derek turned to the two of them, first at his son, and then at Stiles, as if to prove there was nothing wrong. 

Stiles sighed, but turned around. “Lydia! Can you come here for a moment, please?”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, but Stiles stared back at him. “I would’ve called Isaac, but he’s afraid of you now, congratulations.” Derek smiled at that. It was about damn time his betas were more afraid of him than they were of his husband. He knew it was momentarily, because Isaac had accidentally thrown the volleyball too hard at Stiles and he now had a black eye, and Derek hadn’t exactly reacted in the calmest of ways. No physical violence, because Derek had actually worked on becoming a good Alpha and he wasn’t about to throw everything away, but he might have actually yelled at Isaac. He caught himself before it became a tirade, but still. Maybe he shouldn’t be proud after all. 

“Your kid looks ridiculous.” Lydia said as soon as she was within hearing distance, without Stiles actually having to prod. 

“He’s protected.” Derek countered. 

“Derek. My love. My sun. There’s so much sunscreen on Eli that I can’t even grab him without him slipping out of my hold.” Stiles explained. As if to demonstrate, he tried to grab Eli’s wrist, but the boy’s hand simply slipped off. 

“We don’t know if he’s a werewolf yet, Stiles, we need to protect him from the sun.” Derek countered.

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again without saying a thing.

“Okay, I’ll be in sunscreen duty.” Lydia said, using her towel to hold onto Eli’s hand, who so far had only stayed where his Dad had told him to. He wasn’t sure how to move when he had so much cream all around him. “Come on, buddy, we’re going to get all the excess off and then you can get in the water. Uncle Isaac and Aunt Erica are playing shark, and I’m sure you can beat them both.”

Eli nodded at his aunt, but still didn’t move. Lydia sighed loudly, shooting a glare at Derek, before kneeling by Eli to wipe the excess off right there, before applying a normal, thin layer all over the kid. It seemed to break the spell, and Eli was walking towards the water again, Lydia following close behind and pointing him towards the rest of the Pack. 

“Babe. He’s a child. You broke him. You literally broke him. He came to find me standing like a starfish and just looked at me. Malia laughed so hard I’m pretty sure she peed, and Eli just stared at me.” 

“Fine, maybe I overdid it.” Derek relented. 

“He was white. Not pale like me. White. Actually white.” Derek just nodded. 

“I’ll hold back.”

“Thank you, babe. I will make sure he gets a retouch at least every three hours, okay? He’ll be fine.” Stiles assured him, and Derek nodded, grabbing Stiles’ hand to pull him against his chest.

“Are you wearing sunscreen?” Derek asked kindly, pressing a kiss against his husband’s forehead.

“A perfectly normal amount, Der. I will retouch every time Eli does.” He promised, placing a kiss of his own on Derek’s nose. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to go make sure our two year-old doesn’t drown anyone of this Pack.” Stiles said, walking towards the water as well, before stopping mid-step. “Actually, anyone in general. He’s not allowed to drown anyone at all.” He said, seemingly to himself, before he resumed walking.

“Thank you, love.” Derek called after him, and Stiles waved at him in acknowledgement. 

“Pay up.” Boyd said, extending his hand at Jackson. 

“I don’t have my wallet in my swimsuit, man. But, yeah, whatever, I’ll Venmo you.” Jackson said, grabbing his phone to do just that.

Before Derek could even ask, Boyd explained, “Jackson here thought Stiles would be overprotective of Eli. I have seen Stiles when Isaac or Scott get injured. So I bet on you.” 

Derek rolled his eyes and sat down on his chair. “Stiles’ very protective of the kid.” 

“He’s reasonably protective. You made us drink out of paper cups for months just in case Eli found a real glass or cup.” Jackson countered. “Actually, I don’t know why I bet on Stiles.” 

“I told you” Boyd said happily, drinking the cold beer Derek had handed him. 

“I hate you all.” Derek said simply, laying down under their big umbrella. His son was safe, and so was his husband. He could enjoy a few hours of rest. 

[mania-sama]

hesitated all my life (but i'm all done running)

RUNNING - NF

Haikyuu Pairing - Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Additional Characters - Hanamaki Takahiro Matsukawa Issei Tags - character study, angst with a happy ending, blood and injury, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced drinking, internalized homophobia, homophobia, homophobic language, starvation, dehydration, childhood trauma, heavy angst Summary - Oikawa Tooru is mugged after volleyball practice and becomes the next victim in a cat-and-mouse game between a criminal and the police. Being tucked away underneath the floorboards of his practice court, Oikawa can no longer escape the overbearing feelings he has for his best friend. Iwaizumi Hajime tries to find his best friend before it's too late. Word Count - 12,646 Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own

A volleyball rolls on the ground, far away from where the rest are contained in the set bin. It’s going to be painful getting it back, Oikawa knows. His knee has flared up in aching pain. He sits on the ground and rubs it back into a condition where it can take him around the gym to lock up, then home.

That walk is going to be rough. He doesn’t live far nor in a bad part of town, it’s that he has to actually travel on his bad knee. It’s going to take him at least five more minutes, maybe ten if he has to stop frequently. He sighs, pushing himself slowly off the ground when the pain subsides ever so slightly. It’ll have to do.

He limps to and fro the gym. He’s lucky he’s even playing. His injury over the summer nearly cost him the season, and he doesn’t know what he would’ve done if he had been benched. It’s his final year of schooling before he moves on to higher education. He already has a scholarship lined up, but nothing can quite replace this; the late nights in the gym, practicing solo drills over and over again until he collapses, and gazing up at the Aobai Johsai banners hanging limply from the walls.

And then, of course, there are the people he’ll be leaving behind. It’s not so much the school experience, but the friends and teammates he’s experienced triumph and defeat with. He doesn’t know what to do with the heavyweight in his chest when he realizes he will never sit on the same bench with them or play on the same side of the court. The only way that would be possible is if they all somehow managed to go to the same university as he is.

Which they aren’t. At least, only one of them has been accepted to the same university as him. He and Iwaizumi are sticking together, but not on the court. Iwaizumi isn’t playing collegiate volleyball.

Oikawa shakes himself loose as he turns off the lights of the gym. Getting emotional now will do horribly for his sleep tonight, which he so desperately needs. He has two major tests the next day, and not to mention a volleyball match that afternoon. They’d be playing an unranked school, but it’s a game nonetheless. He wants, and needs, to be well-rested and energized.

The door opens with effort on his part, and he steps out into the chilling air. Seasons are changing, and that makes the nights colder and stretch on for longer. The freezing breeze bites his bare skin, cooling the sweat on his arms, neck, and face. However, it stiffens his knee and reinvites all the pain he was carefully controlling a moment earlier.

He turns to lock the door behind him when his heart seizes. A click of a gun. Clicks. Multiple guns. He stares at the door, his hands frozen mid-air. His entire body stands as still and stiff as possible. Unwanted bile climbs up his throat in complete, unadulterated fear. He doesn’t want to turn in the case they think he has a weapon of his own, or that he’s making a break for it. He doesn’t want to do anything that might make them pull their triggers.

“Drop the bag. Empty your pockets,” a disembodied voice says. Oikawa drops the keys to the ground immediately, then shoulders his duffel bag off of his shoulder. He doesn’t have much in there — a volleyball, a pair of shoes, the set of dirty clothes he wore to practice, and his wallet, probably the only thing in the bag they’re going to want.

He turns out his pockets, slowly drawing out his phone on one side and a lighter on the other. He can’t explain the lighter without outing the fact that his girlfriend smokes and occasionally forgets her lighter — she then gets mad at him for not remembering to carry one, as though he’s the one who smokes.

Only Iwaizumi knows about that. He knows most things about his life that Oikawa wouldn’t tell other people. Things that he wouldn’t tell his own family or his girlfriend.

He wonders what Iwaizumi would say to Oikawa in this situation. Would he hold his hand with a silent promise to keep safe? Or would he somehow try to preserve their belongings by running, or fighting? Perhaps he would’ve seen the glint of the muggers' guns before they could move in from the shadows, and then they wouldn’t be in the situation in the first place.

Well. It doesn’t matter. Iwaizumi isn’t here. He left thirty minutes ago when Oikawa said he couldn’t stop practicing just yet. He’d only even stayed as long as he did under the pretense of walking home with Oikawa.

If they had left together, Oikawa wouldn’t be slowly turning around under the orders of other people. He wouldn’t be staring into the barrels of three guns. “Where’s your wallet? You trying to cheat us?” The middle guy threatens. The voice sounds the same as the other orders, so it must be the same guy. He’s probably the ringleader.

“It’s in— my bag. I can— I can get it out for you,” he says, stuttering through his words. His heart beats erratically in his chest, and it feels like his entire body trembles underneath the rabbit-fast rhythm. The men are wearing ski masks to hide their expressions, but the main guy doesn’t shoot or yell at Oikawa, so he thinks he made the right call.

The middle mugger indicates his gun in the direction of the bag. “Get it out, now.”

Oikawa crouches and tries not to flinch under the distinct sound of guns shifting to follow his movement. One gun is necessary for a robber, he supposes. Three is excessive. Oikawa is unarmed, quite injured, and certainly not trained to fight three robbers with guns at one time. They don’t have anything to fear.

He unzips his bag and pulls out his wallet. It pathetically shakes in his grip. He doesn’t want to part with it. It is a good amount of cash as well as his credit card, which is currently stockpiled with unspent money. He spent all summer working nearly every day, and he has yet to dig into his stash. The plan was to use it on getting a flight to and from Argentina, as well as the various other expenditures that would be required of him during his stay.

Collegiate isn’t his end goal. Argentina is in his sights.

But now, he has his hand out, departing with his money, identity, and bank account. They don’t have his social security, at least, but it won’t mean much with his ID card stolen. It will take him forever to replace all that he will lose.

No, he can prevent most of the damage. He just has to wait until he gets home, and then he’ll call the bank before they can buy much of anything. He can’t do anything about the physical yen , but that’s okay. It has to be the sacrifice.

“Phone. Tell me the passcode while you’re at it.”

Fuck. His social security is in there, as well as his bank. Not to mention it’s a phone, which is expensive and will definitely hurt to replace. But it’s not like he has a choice. The man on the left takes his wallet, and Oikawa grits his teeth against the pain in his knee to pick up his phone. He hands it over while saying the six-digit passcode, and then —

The man on the left says: “What are we doing with this one, boss?”

Boss. Oikawa’s mind reels at that. He thought they were just a couple of guys low on money which resulted in unsavory methods. There are only three of them, and their weapons don’t look spectacular, nor their clothes. Boss would indicate a gang, or yakuza, or some sort of organized crime.

Oikawa is well and truly fucked.

He doesn’t know what to do when the right and left men move forward, seizing his arms and keeping one gun to his temple and another in between his ribs. He wants to struggle, to somehow run away, except there are three guns and he is one injured man.

“The floorboards of the gym,” the one remaining says. “It should be interesting. I want to see how long it takes them to crack this one.” He lowers his gun, but that’s only to retrieve the rolls of black cords behind his back. They were probably stuffed there and hidden by his shirt, or something. Oikawa doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, other than the likelihood he’s going to make it out of this alive or sane has suddenly slimmed to a very, very small margin of possibility.

God, he has two tests tomorrow. He has a volleyball match. His mother is waiting for him at home with a cold dinner that he’s going to have to reheat. His sister is off working in a different district, but she’ll be home to visit in a couple of weekends. Iwaizumi usually texts him before they sleep, making sure he got home okay and that his knee wasn’t bothering him too badly.

His girlfriend...

They manhandle him into the gym and shove him out of their grip when he’s inside. He would’ve run, he would’ve done anything if it weren’t for the fact that they immediately pressed the gun back to his temple. The boss nods to one, and they trade places. The apparent boss starts wrapping Oikawa tight with a black cord while the other keeps Oikawa in check.

“What are you going to do to me?” Oikawa asks, the first question he’s been able to produce on his own since this whole thing started. His voice is rather small and too shaky for his own good. “Please, I’m just a student. I haven’t done anything wrong. I—”

“Stop begging,” the boss grumbles and pulls the restraint binding his arms to his back by crossing his entire abdomen. Another one spans his waist to bind his wrists. “I’ll reconsider this whole thing and just shoot you right here. Would you like that better?”

Oikawa only responds with a shake of his head. The boss scoffs and continues with the last two pieces of cord to wrap Oikawa’s ankles and legs. Beside them, the last man tears up the gym floor with a hammer he must’ve pulled out in a similar fashion as the ropes. The strips of wood give way easily under the prying end of the hammer.

He thought that there was only solid ground beneath the hard flooring of the gym. He was wrong. There, in the center of the left side of the volleyball net, is a rectangular, less than a foot hole. He tears up more to reveal the most of it that he can, showing that it spans just long enough to fit someone as tall as Oikawa.

“I did my research on this place. The yakuza used this place as a money and weapon stash, once. One of those holes on either side of the court. Hope you don’t have a preference,” the boss says, tugging the final restraint on his ankles. It nearly knocks Oikawa over, but the other man has a steady, iron grip on his shoulders. The gun isn’t needed any longer — Oikawa can’t do anything.

Without ceremony, the man behind him forces a strip of cloth in between his lips, painfully pulling the sides of his mouth and triggering an uncomfortable salivating response immediately. He ties it behind his head, secures it, and wraps duct tape several times around his head. All the while he supports Oikawa’s weight carefully on his chest and leg.

He drags Oikawa to the pit and dumps him onto his back. Oikawa lands hard on the cement, halfway onto his shoulder before he lays flat. He’s too afraid to try and plead again, to ask them to please reconsider. He can’t, in any case. The cloth and tape have him completely muffled. When he tries to make a sound, absolutely nothing reaches his ears.

“I would tell you I’m sorry for this,” the boss says, waving for the man to start replacing the flooring again, “but I couldn’t care less. I have this game with the police. I rob and hide people, they try to find the victims before they die of whatever torture I’m putting them through. Great fun. You will die of starvation, I hope.”

The boards are close to Oikawa’s face. Close. The end of his nose presses up against the board — it’ll break if the board gets pushed in too hard. Considering that most of this is empty space, and it’s the dead center of the court, it would be hard to not hit his nose.

“Right under their noses. To put it simply, you’re an insult. I’m playing a practical joke.” It’s not funny in the slightest. Oikawa’s hungry, tired, and utterly terrified. His mouth is rubbing raw from the gag, and the cord hugs his body too tightly to the point where it digs harshly into his skin and flesh.

They leave only after stomping on the replaced floorboards. The sound reverberates through his tiny space, made perfectly to fit just one human person. Made for a victim like Oikawa. The lights turn off, and Oikawa is, one hundred percent, alone.

His stomach growls in the silence of his underground coffin. It’s quiet. It’s nothing but darkness and silence and the adrenaline-boosted exhaustion of being robbed and then locked under his gym. He’s an insult to the police, a practical joke.

Body tingling with the edges of hunger, Oikawa does the absolute only thing he can do. He sleeps in a fitful, restless night, with his body encased in cement and his face pressed against the floorboards of the volleyball court. Sleeping may be too harsh-defined for what he did. It was more like closing his eyes, forcing his breathing to even out, before startling back awake to phantom sounds of guns clicking and feet walking above him.

He doesn’t cry, even though he wants to. His family will notice that he’s gone, his friends, his teammates, and probably his girlfriend. Iwaizumi will see that Oikawa didn’t respond, even though he always does. They’ll tear the world apart looking for him.

He hopes they will.

—

The door opens with a bang, and the only indication that the lights are turned on is from the faintest of yellow outlines in the toothpick-thin space between each board. Footsteps echo through the room, and presumably his head coach sets to work preparing for morning practice. Carts are rolled out from where Oikawa hid them in the closet the night before, and the head coach paces the area. It won’t be long before the team starts filtering in.

It’s never too late to get a head start, though. Oikawa shifts, trying to make as much noise as possible by hitting his feet against the boards. Tapping is all he can manage — the cords have him restrained oddly, the tight quarters of the cement on either side, and the fact that he’s already extremely close to the boards make it so he can’t utilize much force. He tries to make vocal noises, but that’s a lost cause. Nothing makes it past the gag and layers of duct tape.

Oikawa hears his head coach mutter something faintly, then the door opens again. “Good morning, Irihata-san,” Mizoguchi, the other coach, greets.

Irihata quickly shushes him. “Do you hear that? There’s this incessant tapping noise.”

They are silent for a beat. Then: “Maybe Oikawa used the bathroom and forgot to turn off the water. I’ll check.”

The sound of footsteps carries Mizoguchi away toward the bathrooms. Oikawa continues to tap the floorboards, but it’s getting harder with each passing minute. He hears the head coach pace the gym, occasionally getting near to Oikawa, but always turning before he can get close enough to register the exact location of the noise.

Multiple people filter in at once. They greet Irihata in a disjointed manner, and Oikawa does whatever he can to keep tapping. But his body will fail soon. It’s not meant to move in this way, pinned and held together by cords, with nothing but his core to lift his legs a couple of centimeters. And with the gag strangling his ability to breathe, the task becomes a lot harder than it should be.

He hears his friends, Hanamaki and Mastukawa, talk together and say nothing about Oikawa’s absence. Iwaizumi arrives much later than everyone else, much to the coaches’ chagrin. “Where’s Oikawa?” Mizoguchi asks, having returned from the bathrooms a few minutes ago.

Oikawa’s heart races as he waits for his best friend’s reply. I’m here, he wants to scream. Help me! “I have no idea,” Iwaizumi says. “His mother called me this morning asking if Oikawa spent the night with me. Which he didn’t, by the way,” he adds rather hastily. “He hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”

“Call him right now. If he’s hungover from a party or something, I don’t care. We’ve got a game today, and he needs to get his butt over here,” the coach orders.

“I don’t think…” Iwaizumi starts and then trails off. He’s likely getting the death stare, which would be funny if it weren’t for the fact that Oikawa’s anxiety is skyrocketing. Hunger has truly struck him now, having missed two meals already and suffered through an incomplete night of sleep. His friend’s phone rings faintly from where he’s standing closer to the door than to Oikawa.

Louder, he hears: “Hello! This is Oikawa. Sorry, you just missed me! Leave a message, and I’ll consider getting back to you.”

Hanamaki calls from further away: “He hasn't replied to either me or Mattsun.”

“He better have a good reason for this,” Mizoguchi grumbles. “Whatever. Everyone else is here, so no point in delaying practice any further.”

Oikawa’s real Hell begins here.

Each step reverberates through the cement and pounds into his ears. In the close encasement, it sounds like bombs are raining down on his coffin. After they complete their sideline drills, it takes exactly two nanoseconds for someone to step on the floorboards holding him in. His noise splinters and cracks under the pressure. Blood trails down the sides of his face, and suddenly, breathing becomes one of the hardest tasks he’s ever had to do.

He stops tapping the floor in order to carefully control the air flowing in and out of his nose. He can’t exert any effort with his bones misplaced and blood seeping out his nose. His eyes sting up with the tell-tale blur of forthcoming tears, and he shuts his eyes tight. He can’t start crying. If he does, it’ll open a floodgate, and then he really won’t be able to breathe.

Oikawa isn’t keen on dying just yet. They are going to realize he’s missing soon. Hopefully. Even if they, for some reason, think he was partying and got too drunk. Iwaizumi doesn’t think that. If he can just come to his senses and report him to the police, then maybe he’ll get out of here before starvation takes him.

Practice ends without Oikawa ever making an appearance. The bones of his nose have been shattered from repeatedly being smashed in unknowingly by his teammates. He has cried if only for the sheer pain he’s experiencing. It’s only survival instincts that keep his breathing even under the pressure of his broken bones. Iwaizumi had called him again during their small break, and still, voicemail. Even Hanamaki and Matsukawa tried, but they received the same response.

The coaches dismiss them with a thinly veiled threat to make sure Oikawa attends school so he can play the game. To Iwaizumi, Mizoguchi lays the punishment thicker. They know their close friendship, he supposes.

He can’t help but find it a little odd. He has time to dwell on it since everyone clears out of the gym and they shut off the lights. They don’t stick around, because Oikawa has stopped tapping the floor due to his shattered nose. He can’t make a noise.

A few pathetic tears slip down his face. This time from sorrow — any pain he feels has become a monotonous throb hidden behind the heavy pounding of his heart. His mouth dries out, and a headache builds at the base of his neck. Yet, he is utterly alone. Though it’s morning, his world is dark and contained in a cement coffin underneath the floorboards of his volleyball gym.

Oikawa doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to step foot in this place again once this is over. If he even gets out of here.

He presses his head as close as he can to the ground to relieve his nose of any kind of pressure, and he tries to sleep. Tries. He’s not very successful. More than anything, he’s bored and alone with only his thoughts to keep him company. No music, no entertainment, nothing. Just him, unbearable pain, and his incessant inner voice.

He thinks about his mother. He wonders if she’s worried sick about him, or if she thought he had been off at a party like his couches assumed. Oikawa wants to think that she knows him better than that; honestly, he’s not much of a party person anyway. Partying takes away from the time he could be spending watching matches and studying. School and volleyball are too important to him.

That doesn’t mean he hasn’t gone to a party. His friends have dragged him to them on occasion, but they’ve never had a problem with him leaving when he doesn’t feel like staying for long. He’ll pick them up if they need a drive home in exchange. His girlfriend doesn’t like it as much when he leaves, so he stays to please her.

He wonders if that’s why they’ve grown so distant. Oikawa can’t go to parties. He didn’t bring the right lighter. He has too many fangirls, too many high-level classes to attend, and too little time to spend with her, even though he tries so hard to make time.

The silent treatment recently has struck a chord in his heart. He doesn’t even know what he did wrong, but she won’t answer his texts and she looks the other way when he speaks to her. So he can’t even find out what happened. It’s driving him up the wall, but mainly, it’s made him upset.

Upset because he doesn’t even know if he wants to salvage their relationship.

His breath shudders as that thought crosses his mind, blatant and blaring like a police siren. Their downfall isn’t a tragedy, it’s merely an inevitable end. Oikawa had felt their tether loosening and splintering over the past few months. He doesn’t mind her smoking habits; he minds her jealousy streak, the way it’s always his fault and never hers, and how she really, really didn’t like Iwaizumi.

The slimmest reflection of his best friend sent his hands tremoring with a new kind of anxiety. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him recently — it’s like every time he sees Iwaizumi, his heart races, body heats, and tongue thickens, causing him to stumble over his words as though he’s a young girl giving a confession. It’s embarrassing.

He doesn’t know what it means. Or rather, he doesn’t want to know what it means. Oikawa would rather focus on anything else in the world, but bringing himself back to the present is worse than the tumultuous words banging around his head. All that’s here for him in reality is his various aches and pains, the sharp sting of the cords keeping his body tight and still, and the complete darkness of his cement coffin.

Iwaizumi is a much better topic to think of. He always has been, and always will be, and reflecting on their relationship is much more fun than focusing on his pain. And as he reflects on his odd ailments regarding Iwaizumi’s presence, he remembers the entire, sorrowful ordeal concerning the university.

Oikawa had a very quiet meltdown when Iwaizumi texted him about the university he’d sent an application to, decidedly one that was not the same as the one that had offered Oikawa a full-ride scholarship to play collegiate volleyball. The thought that they would be separated so soon after high school made him so unbearably upset, and he couldn’t even comprehend why. His reaction to Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s decisions had been bad, but not that bad.

The day Iwaizumi revealed where he was going to university was the day Oikawa blessed the sun, the moon, and the stars, and sent his gratitude to every god of every religion. He doesn’t think he’s clingy, but when he reflects on his stroke of luck, he rethinks his entire self. Maybe he isn’t clingy, per se, but he doesn’t like losing the things he loves. Like volleyball, which he’s signed to play collegiate for. His family, whom he would lay down his life for.

Iwaizumi.

Oikawa promised himself the moment they met eleven years ago that he wanted Iwaizumi to be his best friend to the end of time. He still holds to that now, even as he starves and breathes shallowly and evenly beneath the Aoba Johsai gym floor. There’s nothing false about his eternal vow. It’s just that love is a strong word to use for a best friend.

Yet, he cannot deny that he truly does love Iwaizumi. As an extremely close best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all they ever will be, and Oikawa knows this. He doesn’t know why there’s an achingly familiar pang in his chest so vastly unrelated to his current predicament when he repeats the label of their relationship. Best friend.

He redirects his thoughts to the tests he’s missing today. He’s in his last year of English language, and though his grades are fine, he can’t help but worry over structure. Everything has become a lot more complicated after they’ve started doing complex sentences, each one being in a different tense and containing vocabulary words he’s not sure he fully understands. He went over them with Iwaizumi the other night, and it honestly seemed like his friend was fairing much better with the vocab than Oikawa.

Before his mind can travel down that familiar road of late-night study sessions, he associates English with learning Spanish in his free time, then Spanish with Argentina, then Argentina with volleyball. And where there is volleyball, there is Iwaizumi. He’s right back where he started.

He tries aliens and the various theories that follow, but that goes even quicker to Iwaizumi than English had. His other test is Calculus, he thinks desperately, but then that goes to how he struggles with the equations and graphs and Iwaizumi can just do it so effortlessly —

Everything comes back to Iwaizumi. Always.

And that leaves him with the muggers, guns, cords wrapping his body tight, cloth and duct tape binding his mouth, and a broken nose strangling his breathing.

So he goes back to Iwaizumi in a vicious cycle that repeats until he falls into a frustrated, headache-induced sleep.

—

He wakes to nothing but the deep-set ache of his body and the tight constriction from starvation. His throat is dry and his mouth is sore from the gag.

Other than his breathing, he hears nothing. He cannot tell how far into the day it is, when school will let out, or when the next day will come. Since there’s a match, nobody will be in the practice gym all afternoon. He’ll have to wait until tomorrow to try his luck again.

Distantly, he wonders if they’ll notice him tomorrow. Oikawa may be weak at that point. A full day and a quarter without any food or drink is hard on the body. It’d be one thing if he was getting water, but he was barely even taking in an adequate amount of oxygen . This careful equilibrium can’t last him forever. Besides, if they keep crushing his nose underneath their feet, then he really won’t be able to breathe.

The thought is upsetting enough that he returns to the snake biting its tail. Iwaizumi and him. He and Iwaizumi.

He works on trying to pry the duct tape off by scraping it against the cement wall. It’s not like there’s anything else he can do. He’s pressed in close enough that it doesn’t work very well, and he has to take frequent and inhibiting brakes every thirty seconds or so on account of his nose. It’s positively miserable. More miserable is sitting and doing nothing in agony.

He questions fleetingly, with objective curiosity to cure incurable boredom, what it would be like if Iwaizumi was born a girl. Oikawa shuts it down before it can bloom. It’s not like he can imagine Iwaizumi looking any different, anyway.

—

It’s incredible how fast his thoughts turn sour.

In his intense avoidance of Iwaizumi, he ends up recounting his entire life from the point of remembrance to his current, unfortunate predicament. He starts off innocently enough, but then it moves on to the first embarrassing moment of his life. Then the next, and then the avalanche of his Worst Days comes crashing down on him in a violent flurry of misery and distress.

His stomach curdles and coils with hunger, uncomfortableness, guilt, and regret. Reliving your tragic memories of humiliation isn’t something he thought he’d be dealing with when he first got shoved underneath the floorboards. At that point, he’d been too scared to think about anything but his imminent death and what he could do to avoid it. However, now he’s alone and most of the initial terror has worn off — the anxiety of it all doesn’t quite abandon him — so all he’s left with is an impenetrable amount of boredom.

He recalls the times when he caused scenes over minor things, when he’s cried in front of his classmates in elementary and lower secondary school, and been unreasonably rude or angry to his friends and family. Those in particular make his head reel and jaw flex. He has a mean streak — he’s well aware, and he doesn’t always feel sorry after he’s laid a few thick words — but something about the cramped darkness of the gym floor has him rethinking his actions.

The words he could have chosen differently. The people he’s hurt.

God, he never apologized to Kageyama for that shit he pulled when they were younger. Slapping a child because Oikawa felt sorry for himself is such a shitty move that he can’t even find the wherewithal to come up with a better justification for it. Even though it happened literal years ago, his heart pangs, and his gut clenches in that familiar, pitiful self-loathing agony.

He spirals before he knows it, and it jumps so fast to yesterday, or the day before, or however long it’s been since he and Iwaizumi had gotten into an argument, the same old fight, and Iwaizumi left Oikawa to practice in the gym alone for longer than usual. Iwaizumi wanted to walk Oikawa home, as they usually do, but Oikawa was confounded with a fit of nerves and anxiety that was overall foreign to him.

Or rather, it had been foreign to him, but in the past few weeks, he’s noticed an uptick in tremoring heartbeat and frantic thoughts. Nothing had changed between him and Iwaizumi, not anything that Oikawa had picked up on. Yet, on the basis that he was sure he was going to have a nervous breakdown if he walked in the dark with his best friend, he vehemently denied the offer and said that he should practice more. Iwaizumi argued that his knee was hurting, which it was and despite Oikawa’s best attempt at lying, Iwaizumi saw right through him.

Oikawa resorted to his usual defense mechanism, except he was much worse. The insults he swore cut deeper than he intended, and he knows it’s because of this thing he’s developed around Iwaizumi that’s completely fried his nerves. Iwaizumi left before the argument could turn from normal to violent, as though he knew that Oikawa hadn’t been feeling his best.

It didn’t mean that his face wasn’t twisted when he slammed punched the gym doors open and that Oikawa spent the next thirty minutes pushing himself as hard as he could to forget his jittery nerves and the hurt expression on Iwaizumi’s face. For the most part, it had actually worked. His knee was in enough pain and his exhausted, sweaty body averted his attention.

He’s cognizant of the fact that he was being unreasonable and that there has to be a root cause of his apparent fear of being close to Iwaizumi despite the fact that they’d been that way for their entire friendship. It came with the territory of being friends since they were six, and staying that way until they were both seventeen and drank themselves into a stupor over their eleven-year friendship.

Alone. Together. Just the two of them in the backyard of Iwaizumi’s house when his parents weren’t home. It would be one of his favorite memories, honestly, if it weren’t for the intense anxiety and heartache it causes him to recall it. It’s the way Iwaizumi looked at the time, with his face flushed with alcohol and his lips looser than usual, calling Oikawa more endearing terms than meaningless insults. He can’t remember much from that night past the hours they spent downing shots and cups that gradually led to a horrid, impromptu one-on-one volleyball match that ended with them sprawled out on the grass, laughing and making non-existent shapes of the stars hanging above them.

Oikawa woke up in Iwaizumi’s bed with the worst hangover in his entire life, pressed close to Iwaizumi, and starfished around him like a jellyfish clinging to an unsuspecting human leg. His and Iwaizumi’s torsos were bare, and thank fuck their pants were on or Oikawa would have had a panic attack for not remembering their first time together.

His thoughts come to a halt at that, and he feels his neck and face heating at the imagery of sex with his best friend. Who is a boy. Who is someone that Oikawa is not at all attracted to, and never will be attracted to. It’s embarrassing, he concludes, that he would even entertain the idea for more than half a second.

His heart palpitates and his breathing falls uneven, sending a spike of panic through his veins as he struggles to take in air through his shattered nose. It doesn’t help that he’s now actively thinking about having sex with Iwaizumi, even though he keeps trying to banish the thought. He blames it on the gym floor and boredom. He doesn’t want it to be anything else.

Even if his whole body twinges at the phantom feelings of his best friend planting kisses on his face, licking his neck, roughly unbuttoning his shirt, and sliding his hands down past Oikawa’s boxers. He moans into Oikawa’s ear, and instead of being entirely aroused, Oikawa feels uncomfortable and insurmountably guilty. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts – not about his best friend, who is not a girl and is very much a boy. He pushes imaginary Iwaizumi away from his two-thirds exposed body, unfathomably worsening his guilt and regret, and forces his mind to search for another topic.

Anything else. Please. Anxiety thrums through him as he keeps coming back to Iwaizumi, and his family, and about how horrified they would be if they found out Oikawa had been having these wretched, immoral fantasies. Ones that he’s tried for years to control but keep coming back to haunt him like a restless ghost.  He can’t imagine the anger and betrayal Iwaizumi would feel if he ever had a peak into Oikawa’s intrusive, unforgiving mind. Iwaizumi would never talk to Oikawa again. Their eleven-year-long friendship would splinter and snap like a twig, and Oikawa’s friends would all leave him because he keeps pulling Iwaizumi back to him, pressing his hands to his chest, and tearing him apart with his mouth even though Iwaizumi is the same sex as him and that makes this so, so wrong.

The metal doors of the gym creak and groan. Multiple sets of footsteps glide into the court, carrying them only a few paces before they stop entirely. They’re probably grouped at the front.

“Is there any place he could be hiding?” An unfamiliar voice asks. It’s deep and masculine, and the distinct sound of clanging metal makes him wonder if the group of people is the police coming to investigate his disappearance.

His evil fantasy disbands before him like dust in the wind. He focuses on the conversation, trying to regain his breath so he might be able to tap on the floor. If anyone can find him, it would be them or Iwaizumi. Distantly he thinks that Iwaizumi wouldn’t make a horrible officer.

Speak of the devil. “The changing rooms is where I’d look first. Nobody saw him at practice, but he spends more time here than anyone else. If there’s a place to hide, he knows it,” Iwaizumi says. His voice is tight and tired. Oikawa's heart starts hurting all over again, and something akin to strong desire throws his breathing far off-kilter again.

Moreover, the fact that Iwaizumi is directing the police to look here, where Oikawa really is. They are so close. They just need to focus and see that he’s right under their noses. If the men who did this to him were able to find out that the yakuza used this gym once — the thought sends a shiver down his spine. How long has it been since they abandoned it? Were they still using it when Oikawa attended in his first and second year, waiting for him to leave the gym so they could unload weapons, drugs, and God-forbid bodies? — then surely the police could as well.

Surely, he thinks when they pass over his coffin. Not all of them went to the locker room. Some were directed to search the main area while they thoroughly ransacked the changing room. Unfortunately, Oikawa hadn’t left anything behind when he finished practice. He doesn’t like to give any indication he was there in the first place, which is an odd behavior he’s kept since he was young. Even though the whole team knows he stays for an hour or so after practice is over, Oikawa refuses to leave a trace of his presence.

Oikawa knows exactly where, when, and why this habit developed. It doesn’t matter, now, though. His father has been out of his life for seven and a half years. He has no reason to be thinking about the awful man any further.

“And you’re sure he had no connections with any gangs, drug dealers, or the yakuza?” An officer asks, their voices filtering in as they re-enter the court.

“Yes, I don’t—” Iwaizumi’s voice cuts out abruptly. It sounds so unlike his best friend that Oikawa could honestly cry. “I didn’t go through hours of interrogation for it to continue here. Just do your job and find him.”

It’s not an officer’s place to give condolences or comfort where they aren’t strictly necessary, so the policeman predictably doesn’t respond Oikawa’s still not breathing right; every voice he hears sends jolts through his aching head, knocking away all of the progress he’d made in the second before. He can’t scream to let them know that he’s here, that someone from his past or a mugger playing an awful practical prank has laid him under the floorboards to die.

They pass over him without pausing. His nose is bent far enough back that their footballs are unable to damage it any further. Splitting in different directions, he assumes Iwaizumi is going back in the direction of the changing rooms while the police officer heads the opposite way. Oikawa has the sickening premonition that they aren’t going to find him after all.

Oikawa is overridden with panic and dread as they search through the gym and come up with nothing. They meet in the middle after a while, and a long, tense silence stretches among them. “Nothing?” One asks. Another parrots the same word as an answer. “Then let's keep going. Iwaizumu-kun, take us down his usual route home.”

“... Okay,” Iwaizumi consents.

Oikawa never got his breathing under check in time. He continues to struggle, wondering if the light-headed feeling is coming from the lack of oxygen, hunger, dehydration, or sorrow. Most likely an amalgamation of all four to maximize his misery. The door closes behind them and locks into place.

He is alone. Even his intrusive thoughts are unable to keep him company as he silently processes the likelihood that he will die.

—

Memory is inherently fallible, but Oikawa remembers his father perfectly. It’s a trick of the universe, another set of unwanted thoughts to corral his misery. He’s too tired to fight them anymore. Hunger and thirst have started to drain him in earnest.

In truth, he didn’t get to see his father that often. The custody agreement between him and his mother meant that Oikawa only went to his dad’s house on the weekends. He didn’t hate his dad at the time, but he certainly enjoyed his mom’s place more. She had all of the posters he liked, the action figures from his favorite comics, three volleyballs, and most importantly, Iwaizumi. He only lived a few houses down from his mom’s house, while his dad lived on the other side of the city. Much further away from Iwaizumi, which made it extremely inconvenient for Oikawa to hang out with his best friend.

Oikawa was young at the time. He didn’t have any comprehension of divorce, or why his mom and dad lived in two separate houses. It didn’t matter to him, really. It wasn’t until he was older that he was slowly taught all of the reasons why his father was abhorrent, and why Tooru should strive to clear the dirt off the Oikawa family name.

He was seven years old when he first heard the word fag at his dad’s house. It was about some television show his father and his friends were watching, strewn around the living room while having Oikawa serve them beer at intervals. They laughed loudly, and when Oikawa came into the room with four bottles balancing carefully in his arms, his father said the words that continue to haunt Oikawa to the present day:

“Never be a dirty bastard like that, son, or I might just have to kill you myself.”

His dad said things like that. Casual threats, slurs to anyone different than himself, and overall degrading comments to women. His dad’s friends weren’t any better, and they tended to goad his behavior rather than amend it. The abnormality of his father’s personality became more apparent to him as he got older.

Iwaizumi’s dad didn’t leave bruises on the places where he gripped too tight. Iwaizumi’s dad didn’t leave cans of beer on the ground for his son to clean up. Iwaizumi’s dad was nothing like his own dad. Oikawa liked Iwaizumi’s house better than he liked his dad’s house.

Oikawa’s room was barren at his dad’s house. He tended to keep people over when Oikawa wasn’t there — and he did when he actually was there, sometimes — so he was ordered to pick up anything that might indicate that he even had a son in the first place. Of course, Oikawa knows why that happened: his father invited women to his house almost every night. Multiple, in many cases. They couldn’t all sleep in one bed, so they were delegated to what was supposed to be Oikawa’s room.

Then there was the other stuff. His dad didn’t like how Oikawa preferred to keep himself pristine and clean, didn’t particularly enjoy any other sport than volleyball, and hadn’t shown much interest in any of the girls in his class. He only really talked about Iwaizumi, and when he met them, Mastukawa and Hanamaki. His father would warn him not to be a disgusting homosexual, and that would be that.

Oikawa only got to learn about the really bad things after his father killed himself in the living room on a Saturday night.

He was ten years old, and the sound of the killing gunshot woke him up from his shallow slumber. His room was plain and bland, just like always, with his clothes packed in his duffel bag. He raced down the stairs and found his father dead on the couch with two empty bottles at his side.

It’s only on bad nights that Oikawa recalls this. And on those bad nights, he calls Iwaizumi, who always manages to answer him despite the fact that it’s three in the morning and they have morning practice, or Iwaizumi’s at the beach, or something or the other.

He only ever asks to hear Iwaizumi’s voice. His best friend always obliges. They don’t talk about it the next day, though even if Iwaizumi asked, Oikawa would have denied him. He doesn’t like to think about it, much less talk about it.

Besides, he doesn’t know what to do with the guilt that overrides him on those nights, and the day after when his mind supplies him with the gruesome scene of his father’s pink and red brains splayed out over the dirt brown couch. 

The truth is, Oikawa doesn’t feel sorry that his dad committed suicide.

He feels sorry that he had to see it. He feels sorry that his mother suffered all his dad’s abuse and degradation for years, yet not be able to obtain full custody of her children. His father was a piece of shit through and through, and Oikawa does not mourn his death as a seventeen-year-old.

Oikawa only fears the person he will become, fears that to this day, his father clutches his mind so tight that he thinks his own brain matter is seeping between his fingers.

“Never be a dirty bastard like that, son, or I might just have to kill you myself.”

The disembodied voice echoes and bangs around his skull like a bullet’s ricochet path. Bile climbs up his throat when he thinks about Iwaizumi and all of the nasty thoughts he’s had about him in the eleven years of their friendship.

Oikawa’s father is dead, but the weight of his impact clings to him as though he were still alive to repeat those threats. Oikawa knows that the world has differing views on homosexuality, but he also knows that in the Miyagi Prefecture, there are way too many people who hold similar, if not identical, beliefs. Oikawa plays men’s volleyball for God’s sake. If he was gay, they’d all turn their backs on him. They might beat him, leave him for dead, or shoot him in through the temple like his dad did to himself all those years ago.

That’s why Oikawa likes girls, not boys. He doesn’t like Iwaizumi that way, despite his brain unhelpfully supplying him with the night they got drunk out of their minds in his backyard.

Oikawa only enjoys alcohol when he’s with Iwaizumi. That he can admit to without feeling a convoluted mess of emotions that make him want to rip out his hair, which he can’t do regardless. His arms are tied firmly to his back, and he doesn’t have nearly enough space to attempt wiggling out of the cords.

He wonders what his father would do in this situation, but he can’t imagine he’d be in it in the first place. He would’ve gotten himself killed in the process of being robbed, probably. Then, he reprimands himself. He doesn’t want to do whatever his father would do. That man was a liar, a bastard, and a cheat.

Oikawa pretends he’s called Iwaizumi. Pretends that his chest isn’t constricted with the terror that he’s become exactly like his father. Pretends that he doesn’t want Iwaizumi to hold him tight in his arms, because his father would kill him if wanted that, his teammates would abandon him, he’d never be successful in his professional career, he’d stain the family name more than it already has been, he—

—

It takes ten years for the doors to be opened again. According to his vague perception of time, — calculated mainly on his increasing thirst and hunger — Oikawa thinks it should be time for morning practice. That means a day and a quarter has passed underneath the floorboards. He feels gross from the dirt and dust coating his body. A shower would be nice. So would food, water, more than two centimeters of space to move, and real human interaction.

Alas, every man wants what they cannot have.

Instead of the slow pace and quiet grumbles of Irihata, two sets of footsteps land heavily on the gym floor. They rattle the cement coffin, though they never quite step on top of him. “Oikawa!” Hanamaki’s familiar voice calls. “This isn’t fucking funny! Oikawa!”

After a beat of silence that is filled entirely with Oikawa’s mental screams of desperation, his other friend’s voice cuts in. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s here,” Matsukawa says, and there’s an edge in his tone that Oikawa isn’t fond of.

“Fuck,” Hanamaki sighs. It’s truly amazing how one word can summarize Oikawa’s entire situation.

He hears the distinct rustling of paper and his friends moving a few paces. The pulling and ripping of tape comes next, and while Oikawa knows they’re putting something on the wall, he’s a little lost as to what. “This feels useless,” Makki professes.

“It’ll guilt the team into trying harder to find him,” Mattsun steadfastly replies. An unsettling feeling coils in his stomach when he realizes that his friend is being reasonable. Not only that, he’s become a comforting figure. Truly terrifying. The world may as well collapse underneath their feet.

Another lull haunts their conversation, as though they can’t quite figure out what to say. Or rather, everything that they wanted to share had already been discussed before they arrived at the gymnasium. Either way, it helped Oikawa very little in terms of gleaning information about the living world.

“LSD,” Makki starts. The word makes Oikawa’s eyebrows furrow painfully, given his pounding headache. “All his money went to LSD and some other drug, right? That doesn’t seem right.”

What?

“He barely even drank, and he was saving for a trip to Argentina,” Mattsun agrees.

“He seemed nervous, though, right? Like, all last month.” Makki pauses. Then, “Do you think—”

“No gangs. Oikawa doesn’t have the guts for that.” Oikawa would be offended in any other scenario. But, given his predicament and the dots connecting in his head, a bitter taste fills his parched mouth instead. “Besides, we agreed his behavior was linked to college and Iwaizumi. Getting into a gang and doing hard drugs is far out, even for us.”

What the fuck, Oikawa thinks incredulously, do they mean by that.

“Shit. I hate this. I hate this so much. It’d be easier if he ran away. At least he’d be okay. And we’d probably know where he went,” Makki rambles, then follows up with a string of curses.

Matsukawa mutters inaudibly. A little louder, he says: “We aren’t helping anyone by standing here. Let’s get changed.”

Out of all the things they’d said in their short conversation, that threw Oikawa for a loop the most. If it’s morning practice, then they should already be in their practice clothes. Their footsteps led away to the changing room, leaving Oikawa to stew in his thoughts as he always does.

A second later, the door opens again. This time, Oikawa is sure it’s Irihata. He’s usually there after one or two early players in the afternoon practice. though the fact that Hanamaka and Matsukawa are the early ones this time calls for concern. He knows why. They’re worried for him.

The anxiety and despair crushes any warmth he may have felt at the sentiment. Not only is it afternoon practice, meaning his perception of time is worse than he imagined, but morning practice had been canceled, likely from his disappearance. It surprises him — one person not being able to show up shouldn’t have made his coaches cancel the whole thing. Unless, of course, the brief investigation happened in the morning rather than at night as Oikawa originally thought.

More irritating than anything is that Oikawa has absolutely no way of confirming this unless someone happens to talk about it at a distance where he can hear, and the likelihood of that occurring is even worse than his chance of making it out alive. He resigns himself in his bristling agitation as Irihata begins setting up the court and more players, along with Mizoguchi, enter the gymnasium.

Iwaizumi’s gruff greeting captures Oikawa’s attention for a second. It doesn’t sound like much at first, but for the second day in a row, he’s come far later than the rest of the team. He knows the observation isn’t lost on his coaches, yet they opt out of saying anything about it. They let Iwaizumi pass through to the changing room without so much as a hint of displeasure.

Oikawa feels his heart hurt unbearably in his chest. Iwaizumi and Oikawa usually walk together to practice, and if they don’t, they’re on time regardless. Lateness could only mean Iwaizumi was waiting for a person who will never come, or searching for a friend whom he won’t find.

We agreed his behavior was related to college and Iwaizumi, Matsukawa’s voice echoes in his head, only slightly overshadowing the rough threat of his father.

He’d been as discreet as he could over the past few weeks. He didn’t hang out with his friends any less, didn’t break up with his girlfriend out of the blue, and certainly didn’t do anything to indicate that his heart rate went through the roof when he was with Iwaizumi for more than five whole seconds. The issue of his anxiety was something he resigned to solving by himself. Enough self-berating over time should have done the trick.

Except it didn’t, and his friends were able to pick up on it. His father, Matsukawa, and his own voice run together in a murky, slow-moving river. It rises past his shoulders and clogs his nose with muck.

“Before we begin,” Mizoguchi begins after all of the players gather in a stiff silence, “if anyone has any idea where Oikawa Tooru has gone, speak now. I don’t care if someone has given you hush money. This is bigger than pride or volleyball or whatever profit you made. A real person’s life is at risk.”

The silence prevails. Oikawa screams behind his cloth gag and layers of duct tape.

Mizoguchi continues awkwardly. “Practice and games will continue like normal. Please, keep your eyes out for Oikawa. Don’t stop searching.”

Practice is only marginally more bearable than last time. His headache splinters the space between his eyes from the constant rattling of the cement and floorboards. Although his nose is no longer in mortal danger of being broken again, he can’t quite pull it far enough back. The wood bending under hard, falling feet, chests, arms, and the occasional butt, still taps his nose in painful bursts. It makes it hard to breathe, and he spends most of practice filled to the brim with panic. Less so because he thinks he will die from suffocation, though always a prevalent fear, but because not being able to breathe makes the heart behave erratically.

His best friend leads the drills, just like he had the day before. While he isn’t toned down at all, he definitely seems out of it. Talking to the same person every day for eleven years has allowed them to gain the innate ability to tell when something is wrong with the other using simple inflections of the voice if no physical cues are given. Oikawa’s disappearance is bothering him a lot. More than Oikawa would have guessed.

He’s only been gone for nearly two days. They could easily guess that he’s run away, taken his trip to Argentina a little earlier without telling anyway, or got really messed up on LSD, if his friends’ earlier conversation is anything to go by. It wouldn’t be wrong for them to still hope that he’d pick up his phone soon and respond to the texts and calls they’d sent him.

Of course, that isn’t what happened. Hajime knows him too well. He knows that Oikawa could never keep plans of running away a secret for so long, that he still doesn’t have quite enough for his Argentina vacation yet, and he’s never been high despite the several attempts made by others. He doesn’t smoke and can count on his fingers on one hand the amount of times he’s been tipsy or drunk. The obvious conclusion Iwaizumi would come to is that Oikawa has been kidnapped or murdered.

The reality is a mixture of both. Oikawa has a feeling that Iwaizumi knows that, too.

Hearing his taut voice order the players around in place of Oikawa is too much for him to bear. It sends spikes of anxiety and such intense longing through his veins, and for the first time in his life, he can’t smother it. He can’t pretend it’s about anything else, because he isn’t doing anything else. There’s no person he can turn to blame his tremoring body on, no place to direct the pull of his heart, no game to accuse of causing his elevated temperature.

And when Iwaizumi leaves, the last person to do so without actually practicing any extra drills, Oikawa feels a part of himself leave, too. The part that has been held in Iwaizumi’s hands since they were six years old.

However, Iwaizumi fails to take Tooru’s hysterical emotions with him. It remains trapped with him in the six-foot by ten-inch coffin.

He has no road to run away from his feelings.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, experiences the pain it creates, and cries.

—

Time passes without him. It could be the next day, next month, or next year. It’s impossible to keep track anymore. All he knows is that he’s steadfastly dying under the floorboards of the practice gym, and nobody has come to tear him out of his coffin. They are only going to realize their mistake when his corpse is rotting and emitting a foul smell that attracts ants and maggots alike to feast on his flesh. His silent heart and brain will be the delicacies they save for dessert.

Practice occurs four more times: morning, afternoon, morning, afternoon. Oikawa’s convinced he’s missed some more in between there. He drifts in and out of sleep, but never long enough to allow him dreams or make him feel well-rested. He’s hungry, so unbearably hungry, and he can’t quite feel his mouth anymore. The only sensations he comprehends are the cloth pressuring his aching teeth and the duct tape sticking to his skin.

It comes to a head at no specific given point. Practice ended some time ago, and he is alone as usual. There’s nothing special about this time, and yet.

He thinks about Iwaizumi, as he has been recently. Always is his friend accompanied by the harsh words of his father, mainly because when he imagines Hajime, he’s pressing a kiss to Oikawa’s head and reassuring him that everything will be okay.

For the first time, it occurs to Tooru that his worst nightmare will come true. His number one fear, just after being outed and suffering ridicule for his sexuality, is that he will become just like his father.

Oikawa hasn’t gone out of his way to treat women poorly, but he knows that his long history of short relationships can’t be blamed on the individual girls. He doesn’t drink often, but he has and that’s worth something. This slow death of his is practically his fault, making it suicide. He hasn’t done enough tapping or wriggling or shoving.

He’s homophobic to a fault.

A painful memory resurfaces in his mind. He was sitting on a couch in Iwaizumi’s living room, two years after his dad shot himself in the head, and they were watching some television show that happened to be on. Oikawa doesn’t remember all the details. He doesn’t have to; only one scene matters.

It happened to be that two men kissed on the screen at that very moment. Iwaizumi wasn’t paying much attention, since he was actually doing his assigned homework that Oikawa was definitely not procrastinating on. The couple had been developing at a fast rate in the episode, and Oikawa’s conflicting emotions prevented him from properly distancing himself from the screen.

As such, when the scene occurred, he made a noise that was something between a gag and a whine. Iwaizumi looked up in slight alarm, looking from Oikawa, to the screen, then back to Oikawa. Raising an eyebrow, he said: “Are you okay?”

“I– uh— is that not… weird to you?” Oikawa nodded to the screen, and he felt the flush on his neck that had quickly overtaken the biting cold that had drained his body all at once.

Iwaizumi’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “What?”

“That!” Oikawa waved a shaky hand at the men who were then holding onto each other. “That shouldn’t be on screen. Right?”

Even then, Tooru’s inner conflict had raged within him. As young as twelve, he’d recognized that he was different from other people. But, at that point, his father’s death was still fresh in his mind, along with the words that would continue to haunt him for years to come. Oikawa will never forget the affronted look on Iwaizumi’s face when he realized what Oikawa was specifically pointing out.

“Don’t be an asshat, Oikawa. Boys can like other boys. Girls can like other girls. Get over yourself,” Iwaizumi asserted and then returned to his homework.

They didn’t bring it up again after that.

There were more times that Iwaizumi got hints of Oikawa’s homophobia, like when he’d startle seeing two men holding hands or two girls dancing close together in the rain. Iwaizumi would give him a look, slap him on the back or head, and that would be it. It didn’t take long for Oikawa’s outward homophobia to dissipate. He dragged it all inward, pointed it to himself, and let people live their lives without his hateful judgment.

But homophobia is homophobia, regardless of who it’s being directed to. He doesn’t care anymore when two people of the same gender share a kiss, hold hands, or dance. At least, that’s what he told himself. Oikawa reflects, and he recognizes the viper of jealousy that strangles his intestines.

He cares that people care about him, and the image he needs to uphold, and the father that’s been dead for years but is still terrified of disappointing. He’s denied himself the happiness reflected in the eyes of couples by forcing himself into relationships that won’t work because, quite simply, he doesn’t like girls.

He never has, and he never will. It’s the exact sentiment that would’ve driven his father into beating Oikawa until his heart stopped beating and then killing himself again.

His father was homophobic. So is Oikawa, despite his best efforts not to be.

He doesn’t want to be like his father. He doesn’t want to die a liar, a bastard, and a cheat.

For so long, he’s listened to that deceased voice like it can come back and kill him, like his words carry more weight than the dirt he’s buried in. Oikawa knows what it’s like in his country, and he’s aware that his father’s views were a little more radical than most. He won’t get shot in the back of his head by his teammates, and they certainly wouldn’t kick their best player off the court.

Besides, he doesn’t have to tell them anything. They aren’t entitled to his personal life — if they want to make assumptions when he stops dating girls, so be it. He’s not going to keep lying and lying and lying.

He will tell Hajime, and he won’t cut the truth down. He’ll tell his best friend that he’s gay, that he’s been in love with him for at least three years, and that if this changes anything between them, Oikawa will understand.

The thought of Iwaizumi separating himself from Oikawa’s life entirely is painful. It hurts more than his stomach eating itself to survive. But this way, he won’t be like his father. He won’t run from his problems any longer. The voice in his head will mean less than the scuff on the bottom of his shoe. Tooru will be an Oikawa in name only.

He just has to be found.

Please, he prays, uncaring of which god his words reached, I’ll do it. Please don’t let me die as my father. Please don’t let me die. I’ll do it. I’ll tell him I love him. I won’t keep living a lie. I don’t want to die. Please.

Oikawa barely hears the doors open over the pounding of his headache. He’s had it for so long that it should’ve become dull and forgettable, but he’s been acutely aware of its growing intensity. What little water is left in him is wasted by the tears trickling down his face in slow, agonizing droplets.

He knows he will die before the next practice.

The tell-tale rattle and shake of feet stepping on the gymnasium floor startles him. They pace directly to where Oikawa thinks the flyer is. Matsukawa and Hanamaki taped it up to the wall a while back, but it’s clearly not done any good. Oikawa is still missing, and he won’t be found.

Then, the sound of ripping paper cuts through his headache like a steaming knife in sharp bread.

“Damn it!” Iwaizumi yells, and his previously faint heartbeat picks up rapidly in Oikawa’s chest. “Where are you? Where are you? I can’t do it anymore. You never left. I know you didn’t. You’re somewhere in here, and I can’t—” His voice breaks into choked sobs. “Where did you go?”

Oikawa can’t breathe. Every breath hurts more than the last like a searing firestick being jabbed directly into his lungs. There isn’t enough energy in his body to keep him alive for much longer.

For the first time, he ignores his shattered nose. He ignores the fact that he cannot breathe at all without pain splintering his head as though he’s a piece of firewood being chopped in half by an unskilled lumberjack. He takes his feet and slams them as hard as he can against the floorboards. It’s probably not as loud or effective as he imagines it would be if his body wasn’t ninety-nine percent of the way dead from starvation, but he does it anyway.

And he does it again, and again, and again. All the while, he pressed his face as close as he could to the floorboards, willing his nose to be felt as an odd lump underneath Iwaizumi’s foot. His chest constricts, his heart unable to keep up with the effort he’s applying. It’s why he hadn’t done this before — the likelihood he’d make it out alive would be slim to none.

Well, if he doesn’t try now, he will die regardless.

“Oh my God,” he hears Iwaizumi exclaim, horrified, as his foot finds Oikawa’s nose. As soon as he hears his best friend and feels the pressure against his broken bones, he passes out. He knows this because when he opens his eyes next, his body is limp on the cement, and the distinct sound of metal scraping the floor filters through toothpick-thin cracks.

The wood peels up off the floor, right on top of Oikawa’s eyes. The brightness of the gymnasium lights hits his fattened pupils hard, for he’s staring directly at a burning light fixture above.

He blacks out again.

The time discrepancy between his past and current wakefulness is shorter because Iwaizumi has barely started on another board. He’s slow to comprehend his surroundings and sensations, staring blankly at the peeling wood without much going on outside of his slowing heart.

“I’m gonna get you out. Don’t die. Don’t fucking die,” Iwaizumi warns between heaving gasps in the struggle against the wood, and Oikawa truly sees him.

Iwaizumi’s short hair is more tangled and mussed than usual. His voice is frantic, hard, and frail all at the same time. He’s wearing one of his pajama shirts with his cross necklace dangling off of it. Oikawa gave it to him as a good luck charm a year ago, more so to tease him about the fact that he’s baptized, though he doesn’t believe in the Christian God. He knew Iwaizumi wore it every now and again as a fashion icon rather than his baptized status.

The sight of it now encourages his heart to keep him alive a little longer.

Tear stains mark Iwaizumi’s face as he rips out floorboard after floorboard. Oikawa doesn’t know when he stopped crying, or when Oikawa started. The scent of fresh air hits his shattered nose in a wave of flowers with thorns sticking out of every fiber. The bulbs strangle his eyesight as his pupils slowly adjust to light after bearing complete darkness for so long. The rest of his body has gone numb entirely, save for his headache.

When the last board is pulled out, Iwaizumi drags his dead weight out of the shallow cement coffin. Oikawa’s ears ring as he’s dropped onto the wooden floor, and it takes everything in him to not pass out again. His best friend wastes no time in picking at the duct tape holding his lips together, and then untying the gag that has rubbed the edges of his mouth into raw. Those parts of the cloth are stained with Oikawa’s blood.

Oikawa takes his first, deep breath of fresh air. It prickles his dry throat, and he greedily takes in all that he can in the shortest amount of time possible. He knows he must look like a drowning fish, what with his mouth gaping open and water streaming down his face, but he doesn’t care.

His mouth is open, and he can close whenever he wants. He can make sounds, and he can breathe.

“Oh my God,” Iwaizumi repeats. He’s shaking as he finds the tied ends of the cords, untying Oikawa as fast as he can. Unfortunately, Oikawa is extremely unhelpful in this process as he gets his bearings, processing the arms that are now free, the mouth that is open by his free will, the air flowing through his lungs, and the Aoba Johsai banner hanging loosely from the ceiling.

Once the final cords come off on his ankles, Iwaizumi pulls him into a tight hug. It crushes his chest and weak bones, and Oikawa would tap out of it if not for the fact that this is Hajime, who’s wound his hand through Tooru’s greasy hair and is holding on like Oikawa is his lifeline. His body is trembling and his chin rests against Oikawa’s head.

From this position, Oikawa’s ear is pressed to Iwaizumi’s chest. The beat of his friend’s heart is set in a fast, comforting rhythm. In this hold, he’s warm and safe. He wants to stay in Hajime’s arms until the world catches fire, and for some reason, he thinks Iwaizumi would let him.

Naturally, he breaks away from the hug.

Iwaizumi’s right hand remains tangled in Oikawa’s hair, but the other drops soundlessly from his back. The loss of contact makes him shiver. Hajime’s turbulent gaze is enough to get Oikawa to make use of his aching arms, bringing them up to cup Iwaizumi’s face in his hands.

His cheeks are warm to the touch. His jaw is trembling in Tooru’s weak hold. Oikawa’s arms are too weak to hold this position for long.

Iwaizumi starts to say something, and Oikawa can tell it’s going to be an apology, to ask how he’s feeling, and if he’s okay. Oikawa doesn’t give him the chance. He leans forward and presses their lips together, savoring the way Iwaizumi’s wet lips feel against his own, healing the cracks and split, bloody ends.

Their kiss only lasts but a second. Hajime doesn’t reciprocate, and Oikawa can’t physically deepen their kiss. His mouth is far too dry and weak, and his arms are shaking with the effort it takes to keep them up. He pulls back, opening his eyes to find Iwaizumi staring wide-eyed back at him with his lips slightly parted.

Oikawa knows what this means, and although he told himself it would happen, it doesn’t make it sting any less.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his throat scratching on every syllable, struggling to produce anything above a hoarse whisper. “I’m so sorry. I can’t—- live like this. I won’t run from you— anymore.” His salty tears flow over the sticky residue of the duct tape and slip into his mouth. Iwaizumi’s holding onto his wrists, keeping Oikawa’s arms from falling away from his face. He still has that shining stare that stabs Oikawa’s heart. “I’m in love with you. I’m— sorry I’m like— like this. I’m—”

Then lips are pinned against his own, silencing his rambling, shaky apologies. This time, it’s Oikawa who isn’t reciprocating. His mind has stuttered to a stop with the fact that his best friend instigated a kiss with him, and when he pulls away, he finds Iwaizumi’s eyes aren’t hard and disappointed. One of his wrists is dropped, but only to allow Hajime to rub his thumb across Oikawa’s cheek.

Hajime offers the barest hint of a smile, though it doesn’t hide the quiver of his lips. “Will it take you dying again to see how long I’ve been in love with you?”

And Oikawa can’t help it, really, when sobs tear away his soul. He collapses forward into Hajime’s chest, and Iwaizumi cradles him as gently as he can. His head splits and his eyes drain away the rest of his body fluids. He’s dry, completely, and all that’s left are desperate gasps and pained coughs while Iwaizumi repeats how worried he was, and that he’s so glad that Oikawa’s alive.

“I’m— going to die,” Tooru somehow manages. “Food. Water.”

Immediately, Hajime shifts to grab his phone from his pocket. It takes him less than a second to dial the correct numbers.

“Hello, this is one-one-nine. What’s your emergency?” A dispatcher answers.

“I need an ambulance,” Hajime says shakily, and the hand he has in Oikawa’s hair tightens only a fraction. It’s painful for his headache, but comforting all the same. Human contact is something he has been devoided for so, so long. “I found missing person Oikawa Tooru. He hasn’t eaten or drank anything in four days.”

His hand trembles against Oikawa’s scalp, carding his fingers through his crusted, greasy as he gives the dispatcher directions to the practice gym. When the call is over, he presses one gentle kiss to the top of Oikawa’s head.

“I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m so, so sorry,” Iwaizumi says.

His energy is too depleted for him to respond, his throat too scratchy and dry, so he opts to do the only thing he can do: burying his head deeper into Iwaizumi’s chest and letting Hajime hold him as though he’ll never let go.

Oikawa doesn’t want him to let go.

[midoriima]

how could you be so cruel?

www.hq_shiratorizawa/angst-major-character-death.com

characters: ushijima, tendou, semi, reon, yamagata, kawanishi, shirabu, goshiki

you're sick sick. you're always in and out, mostly out, of school hence why you're close to friendless. actually, your very few friends had likely forgotten about you due to your condition but you don't mind.

you see [him] in your ward but there's only you two. it goes as being and feeling awkward being in the vicinity of each other until you reach out, "so, what are you here for?"

"oh, physical therapy cos of volleyball and stuff..."

you're not in need of physical therapy but you accompany him and stay with him in the room to keep him company. and before you knew it, you two started becoming friends. you get closer by the minute you keep talking and you're practically hospitalized buddies now.

it isn't until you start falling for him but you remember that your time in this world is nearly up. that said, you shouldn't even be friends with him because if he got attached, you would hurt him. it got a little bit awkward after the realization hit you but it got better when you started to forget.

...until you start liking him even more and you're sure it turned into loving him. the feeling of being attached to another being in this world when you'd rid yourself of these, hurt. you stripped yourself from family and even friends now so that it would hurt less for them and especially for you about leaving them, but now you love someone.

it takes a few days and nights, but then again, you're just human. it's impossible to strip yourself of attachments to this world. even the nurses that care for you, you get attached. even if it's not because they care about you personally and it's their job, people get attached anyway.

it takes a few days to come to terms with the fact that you love him but you'll also be leaving him a little after the time he leaves the hospital and finish physical therapy.

i only have months to live, can't i be a little selfish just once more?

things go back to the way they were with him and the days in this hellhole seem even brighter than the previous. hell, you two even look forward to everyday in the hospital.

it feels like things between you two, whatever that may be, is progressing. even if it's just your friendship for him, you're glad you're getting close. at least there can be someone to make your last few months worthwhile in the hospital.

it's cliche, but up in the rooftop of the hospital is where you can see everything so clearly. it's not as suffocating as it is inside the rooms and it's not devoid of colour. the cold air, too, is actually real and not coming from an air conditioner, it's also much more comforting when the wind blows and messes up your hairs and hit like thin, icy walls against your skin.

you could also look at him beside you and it's actually very romantic. you may just be for comfort and a friend to him, but he was something else to you.

you wish you could turn back time and meet him a little more sooner. but, if he had gotten his injury a little more sooner as well, then that'd mean you'd be alone in the rooftops by now.

days, weeks, and then months pass. here comes the marching of time that lead to your inevitable death. your final month to live in this very precious world.

his condition gets better, yours worsens by the hour you do anything stamina consuming.

on the note of your awful bind, you haven't told him what you were here for. but you don't plan on telling him anyway, and there's no point. if only the love you give could buy you time, you'd sure as hell be on the way to living an eternity by now. but that's not how it works.

with the sudden increase in his performance, he only gets a few days left before he can go. he'll be discharged early... meaning you'll be left alone and lonely earlier than it was initially.

"say, you haven't told me what you're here for so i'll ask if that's alright, what are you here for?"

ah, that question.

"hm, not answering that! it's a bit... embarrassing." will lying like this make the heavens change your mind about you and throw you to the fiery depths of hell?

"okay, okay, i won't ask since it's apparently embarrassing." he chuckled and oh my heavens, it's the most beautiful thing you have ever heard. it's more than enough to be considered as music to your ears and- okay, maybe you're exaggerating a bit, but it's true! something about his chuckles and laughs were so... words can't even describe.

"then, how about i ask when you'll get discharged?"

"by the second week this month, maybe by nightfall."

the smile that doesn't reach your eyes sends a chill down his spine. something wasn't going to happen to you, right? ...right?

the day of his leave from the hospital comes. you stare from the hallway as he speaks ever so brightly at the receptionists about his time with you and that he'll come visit you the day before and the day of your leave as well to return the favor of you helping him out and keeping him company.

he has a small and beautiful pot of tiger lilies, with a chocolate stuck to the soil since he didn't know what kinds of candies you liked. he makes a mental note to ask you right when he enters your ward.

he writes his name under the list of visitors and starts looking for the ward you both stayed in. he feels quite guilty for having been released early and not together with you, and it also sucks cos you were probably alone again.

but then again, you're getting discharged this evening so he can stay until you actually get discharged, and also, he can help you out while he's at it.

he finally gets on the floor and hallway to the ward. it's just at the end of the hall, but why are there nurses cleaning up all the beds? there's basically almost nobody there.

his heartbeat picked up its pace, had he missed it? did you actually get discharged earlier than what you thought?

until he sees there's still one more curtain that was left unopened. he breathes out of relief and begins to run towards your bed despite the warnings of refraining from running in the slippery floors. and with a bright smile on his face, he turns to your bed, almost slipping in the process. he'd been very picky with the flowers and chose the ones he had as a symbol of yours and his friendship but...

the bed is empty, lacking a you or your belongings.

a nurse comes in, opening the curtain and starts changing the sheets.

did he really miss his chance at wishing you well from this point on?

"uh, nurse, where's y/n? did they get discharged already?"

"i don't– oh..."

"oh?" why was their reaction like that? something bad didn't happen, right?

"they passed last night."

he arrives back home.

his parents welcomed him home and inquired about the pot of flowers but he hadn't answered, just put them down on a clear table before walking to his room with disbelief and shock as an evident expression on his face.

you passed? last night?

there was a heavy tug on his heart, his chest was tight and his shoulders were heavy. he didn't feel the need for anything and his mind was still trying to process everything.

you passed... last night...

the last he'd seen you was a week before. he couldn't visit you everyday like he was planning to because of the amount of schoolwork thrown at his face that he had to make up due to his absence.

it started with a heavy heart and shoulders.

then, he feels all the sorrow and grief as he mourns your death. his knees drop down to the concrete floor, earning a thud but the pain he felt in his chest was much greater than a simple knee to the concrete.

tears streaming his face as fast as they could, like they were rushing to go somewhere. they just kept coming so he didn't bother to wipe them away as he wailed on his bedroom floor.

"y/n...!"

he screamed and cried, wanting nothing more than this to be a joke.

"you said..."

you probably did lie to him. you weren't going to just leave the hospital, no, you were going to leave this world as well. to leave him.

"please... this has to be a joke."

[gatakat]

surrender | part 3

Sakusa was a pretty confident person in some aspects of his life, while a nervous wreck in others. Just like, he guessed, most people. 

While he was, for example, unbeatable in volleyball, his general distaste of dirtiness, sickness, crowds and the like could become kind of an inconvenience from time to time. The discomfort he felt in those situations could easily manifest in actual physical symptoms ranging from dizziness to hyperventilation or even, albeit more rarely, a panic attack.

Currently, his condition had decided to reveal itself in the form of a nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't the most common symptom he experienced, but it was one of the most uncomfortable ones.

For better or for worse, the many years of living with his anxieties had given Sakusa an approximate guide on how to proceed whenever it all started to get the best of him. It began with examining the situation and trying to rationalize it. It didn’t always work, though, but it was always worth a try.

Sakusa took a deep breath, and tried to remember.

It was Bokuto’s birthday celebration. Most of the team plus some of Bokuto’s other friends had all been invited. That was a lot of unknown people, for starters. On top of that, the first bar they had gone to was pretty packed. It was, most likely, a big reason why he was feeling like this. But not a sufficient one.

Next, the alcohol currently in his system definitely wasn’t helping. He hadn’t drank much, though. He didn’t really enjoy it, and it often messed with his perception of things, so he tended to avoid it.

Thirdly, he didn’t have many really solid reasons to believe the dried squid they had at the second bar was bad but, in retrospect, he kind of remembered it tasting kind of funny. Although, no one else had mentioned anything. He’d been distracted, though. 

There had been way too many things happening at once in that moment, the most notable of them being Bokuto screaming as he opened his birthday presents and hugged everyone who presented him with an additional one... One of his old high school friends smacked him on the head for hugging the girl assistants for too long; Bokuto continued yelling… It was a complete mess.

But there was something else that didn't feel completely right: Sakusa had felt nauseous way too fast. Like, two bites into the squid fast.

The feeling, in particular, had started with the dried squid and stayed constant for a couple of hours, not worsening or improving until Bokuto decided that the group move from the second bar to a third location: a karaoke bar. That was where they currently were.

Of course Sakusa wasn’t going to sing even if his life depended on it so, as soon as the group settled into their private karaoke room for the night, he took a seat at the back and just thought about his nausea and watched. And, in doing that, he witnessed the one event that brought him to a dreadful realization about said nausea.

Two songs in, Bokuto decided he’d apparently die if he didn’t get to sing a duet with you. He was pretty drunk, and you weren’t exactly sober, either, although definitely a lot more lucid than him. Despite your flustered protests, Bokuto pulled your hand and brought you to the center of the room with him, then chose the cheesiest fucking love song on the list. You dragged a hand over your face, not really hiding your embarrassed smile.

The song started and, much to everyone’s surprise, Bokuto grabbed your hand, interlocked his fingers with yours, and started singing while looking directly into your face, his eyes blatantly focusing on your mouth. Sakusa felt a cold sweat run down his back, and the discomfort in his stomach redoubled. Bokuto was singing his heart out, clearly attempting to make you laugh by parodying the original singer. And he was succeeding in this and, at the same time, embarrassing you by totally failing to hide his huge crush on you. It was unclear if on purpose or not. You doubled over in laughter, but still held onto his hand and played along. Sakusa felt like throwing up. Then, he came to his realization. 

Slowly, Sakusa’s eyebrows raised as if of their own accord, in disbelief. A sort of dry laugh bubbled up his throat. This couldn’t be happening. It simply couldn’t be.

His eyes briefly drifted to you. Your cheeks were pink and your eyes shiny.

Your gaze fell on him for a split second and he felt the nausea increase in intensity.

Fuck.

Sakusa rubbed his temples in bemusement. It couldn’t be real. God… not him.

Without saying a word to anybody, Sakusa got up and quietly exited the room. He closed the door behind him carefully, and rested his back on it. Then he looked up at the ceiling in the dimly lit hallway and breathed deeply. 

Ah…

So that was it, huh? It was never the fucking squid. The nausea began when Bokuto hugged you after you gave him his present. Then, and only then.

Pathetic. Just pathetic.

Sakusa dragged his hand over his face. This couldn't possibly be happening to him. No. You were just a manager at the team he played for, someone he helped get home safely every day out of genuine kindness and compassion. He wasn’t trying to get into your pants by doing that, although he knew no one would believe him if he said it. But it was true. He didn’t even care much about you back when he made the decision; he only felt bad for you. Really. And there had never been one single flirty instance between you two in that train, that much was certain, even though chances had been probably many. Your relationship was purely friendly and professional. 

Sure, he had stared at you a couple of times, maybe. But, who hadn’t? He was only human! Plus, even Hinata drooled after you! Miya had way too many girls after him to even bother with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find you attractive. Not to mention Bokuto. And on a hot Summer day, like the many that had occurred during the past couple of months, with you right next to him in a sundress, who wouldn’t have stared? 

No. This was nothing. This had to be nothing. Less than a silly crush. This was just the aftermath of you showing up to Bokuto’s birthday in that tiny minidress you were wearing, and the fact that the last person he'd kissed had been his mom.

Besides, he couldn’t get jealous of Bokuto, of all people, for goodness sake. The guy was dumber than a rock, and probably digging his own grave by singing that song to you on top of that.

Sakusa shut his eyes tight and shook his head, as if, by doing so, he could also shake all those annoying thoughts from his mind. Yet the discomfort persisted; it even increased in intensity, and Sakusa let out a big sigh. 

Of course, this was only typical of him, to fall for the same girl his friend liked. 

What the fuck was he going to do now? He didn't know how to flirt. He had none of the confidence that other guys showed around the girls they liked. Plus, he wasn't boyfriend material. Hell, he was barely friend material. He wasn't an amazingly good person like you were. He was too anxious, too irritable and too somber for someone kind and cheerful like you to even think of giving him the time of day. And, even if the idea of actually saying more than two words in a row to you and winning you over wasn't completely ridiculous... then what? His idea of a good time was to stay home playing videogames. No girl in her mind would ever agree to a relationship like that. At least not a girl as sociable as you were.

No. He couldn't let this whole thing distract him from his performance on the court, and much less affect his self-esteem. All of this was nothing but a waste of time.

Sakusa stood in the hallway looking at the ceiling for a very long time, until he came to the conclusion that there was no conclusion to come to. He just needed to calm down. There was not much else he could do, anyway, so he counted up to ten slowly. 

One.

Two.

Three. So, he liked you. Well. There was not much to do about it. 

Four. Just endure it, like he endured many other things in his daily life. 

Five. He could do that. He was used to it.

Six. Love… was just like another type of illness, wasn't it? You could take precautions and…

Seven. Not that he loved you, mind you. What he meant is, well. You know. Accidents happen! Right?

Eight. You can take precautions and still get sick. So it's the same with catching, uh, feelings. Hm. Exactly.

Nine. He just had to endure it. Yeah. Ignore it. And it'd eventually go away. Yeah...

Ten.

Sakusa breathed out slowly, then straightened up. He was ready to go back into the room. 

The song was over. When Sakusa opened the door again, Bokuto was still standing in the center of the room, browsing the karaoke list again. Even with his back to Sakusa, he exuded this overpowering energy, the same of a man who knew he was getting exactly what he wanted. You were sitting with the other managers, beet red to the tip of your ears, and hiding your face into a girl’s neck in embarrassment. But Sakusa tried not to look at you. He quietly went back to his seat by the corner and pulled out his phone, started mindlessly browsing the first social media app his fingers found. No one seemed to have noticed his absence. The party went on.

Bokuto picked the opening song for a popular children’s cartoon, then walked over to you, got down on one knee, and held a microphone out to you. 

“Beautiful lady,” he said, his words slurred, his free hand on his chest. “Would you do me the honor of singing this next song with me?” 

You laughed. The other managers started squealing.

“Oh, my God.” You said.

You picked the microphone and stood up, giggling nonstop. 

Giggling, giggling, giggling. 

And Sakusa felt a jolt in his stomach again.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Fuck!!

previous chapter

[ughmiyans]

ok but the latest haikyuu buu chapter has me thinking about sakuatsu as That Couple that hosts all the get togethers among their friends with atsumu being the one to cook up all the savory dishes (with cooking skills picked up since childhood but also mostly from osamu) and omi the one to make the yummiest desserts that would put pastries from high end bakeries to shame because he’s perfected all the recipes of every single pastry there is (he doesn’t do things half assed after all)

msby movie nights? not complete without tsumu’s signature chili. teammate’s birthday? best to show up at sakuatsu’s apartment on time to see sakusa’s two-tier chiffon cake (with a design that’s always in theme with the party!) before it gets completely devoured. inarizaki vbc reunion? it’s a shabu-shabu party along with atsumu’s yakitori, karaage, gyoza, and okonomiyaki. there are no leftovers, but there’s always room for the funfetti cupcakes sakusa brings out after everything’s devoured. btw all their food is made by sakusa-approved sanitary checks and quality control (he has since then convinced atsumu to start wearing a fox-printed bandana like his own weasel-printed one while cooking)

actually, it’s not even limited to events anymore. if bokuto is looking to bring sweet treats with him when he visits akaashi in tokyo but is wary of his aversion to overly sweet things, omi will bake him a batch of cookies made with dark cocoa chunks instead of the usual milk chocolate. atsumu whips up a bento at least twice a week for his brother (complete with those rice balls made to look like tiny pandas with nori) because the scrub gets too hands-on with his business and forgets to eat (he won’t admit it’s to repay osamu for all those times he made bento boxes for atsumu who wasn’t yet quite used to his new living conditions in the msby dorms back then). suna will request for sakusa’s lemon squares his mom and sister love so much whenever he visits them in aichi, and meian will stop by every so often to pick up atsumu’s smoked salmon carbonara his wife has become obsessed with ever since he brought home leftovers from their last msby hangout

i just love thinking about sakuatsu with food as their love language to all their friends, because it’s what they grew up with. little omi with his parents who always make his favorite dishes when they come home from overseas business trips because nothing can quite compare to their cooking. little atsumu who grew up with weekends spent in their grandma’s bustling house back in hyogo where there was always something cooking, and a lot of food going around for him and osamu and their cousins and aunts and uncles

they joke about quitting professional volleyball to put up their own restaurant. their restaurant locations will all be in the vicinity of onigiri miya branches and will serve their own version of homemade onigiri. to make up for becoming competition, osamu (and all their friends and family) will be entitled to lifetime discounts in sakuatsu’s establishment. they’ll hang their msby and jnt jerseys even if it doesn’t go with the interior design to pay homage to the sport that’s brought them together. and they seriously consider delving into the industry upon officially retiring from the pros once they hit their late 30s, but not before they tie the knot. it’s not their own food served at the wedding (which they think is superior compared to the fancy catering) but it’s fine because they’ll have a lifetime ahead of them to keep cooking for themselves and their loved ones 🤍

[atsukashii]

❝tell me you love me❞ // t. oikawa

SYNOPSIS: ➛ confession: you've been in love with one of your best friends since high school, but life has a way of getting in the way. so tell your friends you love them, before its too late.

» CHARACTER PAIRING: tooru oikawa x reader

» WORD COUNT: 18k and i'm not sorry

» GENRE: slice of life, ANGST with no happy ending, mutual pining

» WARNINGS: major character death, blood, violence

From the moment you were born you had been coddled and hovered over by your parents. Albeit, not in the usual way that first time parents usually fuss over their babies as you were born with lungs that didn’t do their job properly. You were incredibly fortunate to have received treatment as a child, and as you grew it became a constant thing you monitored that didn’t interfere with your life too much. 

Surprisingly, what it impacted most was your ability to make friends. Due to frequent hospital trips and doctors appointments, you hadn’t made any lasting friends in your early years. That was until your fifth birthday, when Iwaizumi Hajime moved in next door. Obsessed with bugs and getting himself into all kinds of trouble, the two of you made fast friends, but it wasn’t until a year later that you met the one person that would impact your life in both the best and worst ways. 

“But she’s a girl!” These were the first words Tooru Oikawa had ever said to you. 

To his credit, you were in fact, a girl, and only six years old, holding onto your childhood friend Iwaizumi’s hand in a white-knuckled bone crushing grip. You remember being so nervous the day Iwaizumi came knocking on your front door, asking your mother if you two could go to the park to play with his other friend.

You’d been jealous that Iwaizumi had another friend other than you. That jealousy had then turned to awe when your eyes had climbed up the lanky figure in front of you, and settled on the prettiest brown eyes you had ever seen. 

Iwaizumi had stomped on Oikawa’s foot the moment he had uttered the words that had your heart dropping into your stomach. But you’d only blinked at him, puffing out your chest like you were stronger than what your frail little five year old body portrayed and snipped back. 

“Yeah, and you’re a boy, so what?” The brunet had only gaped at you as if he’d never seen a girl in his life. And that was that. 

From that moment, you had become a constant figure in both boys' lives, even though there were times that Oikawa had more often than not tried to hog your best friend all to himself.

It wasn’t until they started middle school that they both began to take volleyball more seriously than playing with a ball after school hours. 

You found yourself trying to compete with sports for your friends' attention - something you weren’t allowed to participate in due to your condition, yet somehow, they always found time for you. Whether it was having study sessions after class, or walking home together - even if it means waiting until their practices were done.

Even though their love for the game grew, they never made you feel like less of a priority because you weren't a part of the game.

In the early days of your friendship, you had decided to keep your condition from your friends, not wanting them to treat you any differently. But Iwaizumi had found out when you were eight when you’d been rushed to hospital in an ambulance and he’d been standing next to your porch, his insect net discarded at his feet and a horrified look on his face. You had caught pneumonia after being in days of wet weather, spending it trying to catch tadpoles in puddles. But the look on Iwaizumi’s young face stayed with you, and it was a look you never wanted to see again. Ever. So you had just told your other friends that you had chronic asthma which was why you were forced to sit out on basically all sport classes and why you avoided those clubs. 

Your condition frustrated you even more as your friends began their descent into volleyball obsession, a sport that you always wanted to play but couldn’t - so you were forced to watch from the side lines. That didn’t stop the boys from doing hitting drills with you sometimes though, however the moment your chest would heave due to the silent buzzing of your watch which constantly monitored your blood oxygen levels, you’d excuse yourself and more often than not, they’d fuss like mother hens. It was sweet, but also left you reeling in your thoughts of how pathetic it seemed to you to not be able to do those kinds of things. 

Iwaizumi was always the one that would be stern on the outside, but the minute he noticed the slightest glance at your watch or the buzzing, a flip switched and he became a helicopter parent. It was Oikawa that had first brought up the idea of helping him with some receives, and you’d jumped at the chance, ignoring your other friends grumbles of disapproval. You’d always been closer to Iwaizumi, not really understanding where Oikawa and you stood with his constant jokes, sometimes blunt tendencies and the fact that he is like a smoke show. A smoke show that drew you closer every day. 

It wasn’t until your junior year of high school did you really realize just what that warm feeling in your chest meant whenever Tooru was around you - until you realised just how vital he was to your life.

You weren’t bullied, not really. But teenage boys could be cruel, more so than girls could be. That year, you didn’t share many classes with your two best friends, even fewer with Makki and Mattsun, and often you had to actively go find them during lunch time because they had their own friends. That’s not to say that you didn’t, you just weren’t as much of a social butterfly as Tooru, or was naturally able to attract people to him like Maki. 

You spent most of your time with music blasting through your headphones whenever possible, and more often than not had your nose shoved in your favourite book. This although wasn’t considered ‘cool’ by your classmates, so somehow you became ostracized. 

You had been walking towards the gym where you knew your friends would be on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. Like an idiot, you’d ignored your friend's texts to bring an umbrella to school and instead had looked at the then sunny sky and thought you wouldn’t need it. But now, as you cradle your book to your chest and jog the short distance from building to building, trying to seek refuge in the annex of the gym, you can’t help but mentally smack yourself for not knowing better. 

The familiar sound of a hand slapping a volleyball meets your ears, immediately followed by a loud laugh has your downturned lips uplifting. By the sound of the ostentatious bickering, all four of your friends were inside. Anticipation stemmed to life in your limbs at the noise, suddenly being even more excited to tell Mattsun about the show he’d told you to watch which you had binged in a single weekend whilst they were at an out of town tournament. Only steps away from your refuge a long arm blocked your path, and as your eyes follow the limb back to its owner, you’re met with the dark brown eyes of a boy in your class. 

“And where are you going mouse?” The nickname had caught on in your first year of high school when people had discovered you weren’t as openly brazen and loud as the boys you were often with. And so far, you’d been unsuccessful in your attempts to get rid of it. 

“I’m meeting my friends for lunch.” You say, your voice quiet and the snickering grin that pulls across the boy's face has genuine fear licking to life inside your chest. 

“You mean those boys you’re obsessed with? The ones you stalk?” What was it about moronic teenagers that thought boys and girls couldn’t be friends? Bare in mind you did have a tiny, microscopic crush on one of them - the others were like the overbearing brothers you never had or really wanted for that matter. Your brows pinch in frustration as the words grate on you. They'd been whispered behind your back for years, but for someone to say it to your face, it was more aggravating than you thought it would ever be. 

“I’m not obsessed with them, they’re my friends!” Your voice is smothered by the rumbling of thunder above, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment as the boys laugh. 

“Friends? Please you’re not even pretty. Why would the most popular guys in our year want to be friends with someone like you?” The back haired one in front of you asks, his two friends caging you against the side of the building snickering in agreement. 

“All she does is read.” The book cradled to your chest is snatched from your hands, and your protests fall on empty years as your classmate to your left tosses it to the boy in front of you. 

“Give that back!” The ring leader flips through the pages, ignoring you completely. His eyes only flick back to yours as he snaps the book shut. 

“You follow those guys around like a dog, so fetch,” One second, your book is in his hand, and the next it’s landing with a thud into a puddle of mud in the rain. A broken noise slips from your lips as you watch the pages soak up the brown water. With no hesitation, you dash into the rain, picking up the hardback and not caring that your blue blouse of your uniform becomes dirtied from the book. The boys all snicker at you as you stand in the rain, glaring down at the puddle with tears welling in your eyes. However their amusement is short-lived.

“What’s going on?” Normally, it’s Iwaizumi who commands the sort of presence that has people like your crappy classmates shutting up. But as you look through your dripping lashes and the pounding rain, it’s Oikawa who stands at the doors to the gym, a frown etched onto his face, and anger radiating off him in waves. 

“Nothing, we were just talking.” The raven haired teenager shrugs before making his leave. He doesn’t get more than a step before Oikawa’s large hand wraps around your classmate's bicep, yanking the boy to a stop. 

“What the hell is your problem-”

“I asked, that the fuck is going on.” The underlying threat to his tone has the boy in Oikawa’s grip blanching at the taller brunet. 

“I didn’t do shit!” Oikawa’s eyes meet yours and quite frankly you don’t know what to do. You want to tell him the truth, but also don’t want to cause more trouble for everyone. You just want today to be done so you can go home and get out of the rain before you get sick. 

So you walk out of the rain, hugging the muddied book to your chest in a pathetic attempt to keep yourself warm. For a second, it’s as if the world holds its breath as Oikawa’s light brown eyes drag cautiously from your head to your shoes. Normally, the action from most people would make you uncomfortable, but the genuine concern in those golden brown orbs has a feeling of safety washing over you instead. 

It’s not until Oikawa’s gaze hesitates on the now ruined book that you’re clutching like a lifeline does he release the boy. 

“We didn’t do anything, right Y/n?” One of your classmates, the one who had stolen your book in the first place, asks with anger flashing brightly in his gaze. You can’t bring yourself to say anything due to the chattering of your teeth as the cold of your wet clothes starts to bleed into your bones. As if he hears the noise over the commotion of the summer rain and the boys trying to prove their supposed innocence, Tooru’s eyes once again meet yours, and this time there’s nothing but unbridled rage swirling in them. 

It only takes a second for the situation to get out of hand. One moment, Oikawa is releasing the boy's arm, and the next his right hand is pounding into the bridge of the ring leaders nose, which makes such a sickening crunch it has your feet freezing to the floor. The book thrower hits the ground with a dull thud, and to your surprise, none of his friends move to back him up. Instead, they all look at Oikawa who is shaking with fury. The promise of more pain rippling from his eyes. 

“If you ever talk to Y/n again - ever look at her wrong again I will break more than you fucking nose.” Like bats fleeing hell with hounds at their heels, the boys sprint from the scene leaving nothing but a few feet separating you from your friend. You both stand in silence for a moment, just taking in each other and the entire situation before Oikawa lets out a sigh, running a now shaking hand through his messy brown hair. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen his hair a true mess like it is now, and your mind fogs at that little bit of information, locking it away to remember. 

“Are you alright?” You go to nod your head, but as your eyes move to the floor you notice the bright reddening skin on his knuckles and your body moves before your brain. 

“Your hand…” Reaching forwards, you grip the limb gently with your fingers, rotating it to see if he’s hurt any other part of it. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize for those shit heads. Ever.” Oikawa sounds so unlike himself that it has you looking back to his face with shock. But what really rocks you to the core is the pink blush dusting his high cheekbones, and the fact that he can’t look you in the eyes. A small smile tugs to your lips at the sight, and he lets out a childish groan as he in his hesitancy to look at you, notices your drenched form. 

“What assholes.” His damaged hand twists inside your hand until he’s the one clutching your fingers and dragging you inside the gym. 

“You can’t go home like that. Your mom will kill you, and then me. I’ve got my volleyball uniform in the locker room. It’s clean so you can wear that - though it will be big it’s better than being drenched.” His words echo around your head as you follow behind him through the gym, both of you ignoring the ruckus of your other friends realizing your appearance. But you can’t even be bothered to look at them. You are unable to take your eyes off Oikawa’s broad shoulders.

When did his shoulders get so broad? They haven't always bee like that, have they?

The back of his neck is the same bright red of his cheeks, and it has your own face flushing in more than embarrassment. 

You’d uttered nothing as you slipped into the locker room and Oikawa immediately opened a locker down the end, bringing out a bag before grabbing the familiar white and aqua blue uniform. Turning towards you with a shy smile, your heart felt as if it was about to go into cardiac arrest at the sight. He was giving you clothes so you didn’t have to wear your muddied uniform home. 

He was giving you his clothes to wear. Your brain was short circuiting as he placed them on the bench in the middle of the room before gesturing to the door in a panicked movement and disappearing out of it. 

In complete silence, you rid yourself of your soaking wet clothes before slipping into the uniform that was huge on you, but at least it was dry. You thanked whatever volleyball god thought putting elasticated drawstrings on the shorts was a good idea before taking a final calming breath. 

The moment you breached the doors to the gym again, three teenage boys were in your face, talking over each other, and each one promising other forms of bodily harm that if you were anyone else would have probably made you nauseous. 

“I’m going to kill them.”

“Not before I tear their legs from their bodies.”

“Screw that, I say we castrate the fuckers.”

“I’m down.”

“Can all of you just shut up?” Oikawa’s voice actually causes his teammates to hesitate in their homicidal planning, and they look at him as if he’s insane.  “How about asking her if she’s alright for starters.” The rage covering Makki, Mattsun and Iwaizumi’s face quickly shifts to guilt, but as you hold up a hand to tell them that it's okay, you’re alright, Oikawa speaks up.  “And maybe about how my hand is?” The sudden turn in conversation as Iwaizumi kicking one of the discarded volleyballs by his feet right at Oikawa. 

“Iwa!”

“Shut up shitty-kawa, this isn’t about you-”

“Is your hand okay?” You ask instead, making sure that he hadn’t actually hurt it, because if he - the starting setter for their team had messed up a hand because of you, you don’t think you’d forgive yourself. The blushing and nervous Oikawa from earlier is nowhere to be seen, this time, the usual carefree and flirty boy you’ve known since you were eight is winking at you like nothing had changed.

“Nothing to worry about here gorgeous.” Oikawa smirks, before looking over your head to Iwaizumi and wagging his eyebrows teasingly. “You’d be jealous Iwa, I think I broke that Hiroto kid's nose.” As the room around you bursts into familiar chaos, you can’t help internally thank Oikawa for taking the attention off you. Being fussed over wasn’t your favourite thing, right along with causing trouble for your friends. But the fact that Oikawa had done both for you, and helped you when you needed it most… your heart flipped in your chest at his grin that he threw at Makki who was inspecting his hand as if not believing it and needing physical proof of the contact. 

You knew then you were definitely friends.

But that was all you would ever be. No matter how much your heart wanted for more since that day. No matter how many whispered conversations you shared, or secret smiles and inside jokes. No matter how many times he shared his umbrella with you, took you out for lunch and hung his arm over your shoulder whilst you all walked together. You would never be his person. 

This was cemented in your senior year, where you stood near the front gates of the school with Iwaizumi as you waited for your friends. Your traitorous eyes tried to settle on the tall brunet surrounded by a group of gaggling female fans every time you scanned the front doors for the other two members of your group. But you forced your eyes to keep moving, not wanting to hurt your heart more than necessary right now. 

You were doing a bad job of it of course, because the dark haired guy standing to your left let out a sigh of not quite frustration or annoyance, but something, before opening his mouth. 

“Why can’t you just tell him?” Iwaizumi had been trying to encourage you to tell Oikawa about the fact that you were head over heels in love with him from the minute you had burst into his room after an afternoon of studying with Oikawa, the secret spilling from your lips. That was over six months ago. 

And so far, you’d kept those words locked deep in your heart under lock and key, never to be uttered. Why not?

Turning to Iwaizumi with raised brows, he only rolls his eyes in what you now know is annoyance at you. “Um hey have we met? My name is Y/n and that-” you hiss, gesturing over your shoulder to the brunet captain surrounded by girls who you think are far prettier than you. “Is Tooru Oikawa, our best friend, the most popular guy in school.”

“You forgot registered dumbass.” Iwaizumi points out and now it's your turn to roll your eyes. “You’ve got to tell him one day.”

“And ruin my friendship when he doesn’t feel the same? No thank you.” You grumble, adjusting the strap of your backpack and trying hard not to look back over at Oikawa as you hear him saying goodbye to his fangirls. 

“You’re both idiots.” Iwaizumi grumbles and you don’t bother to reply as Oikawa skips towards you, a pep in his step and a blinding grin pulling at his lips. His happiness is contagious, and you find a small smile tugging at the edge of your mouth before you can stop it. 

“Ready to go?”

“Don’t act like we haven’t been waiting on you for the past ten minutes.” Iwaizumi grumbles but Oikawa just ignores him and throws a heavy arm over your shoulders as he grins down at you. 

“He’s just jealous Y/n, because I have fangirls and he doesn’t.” He probably has them too, you bite back the response because Iwaizumi beats you to it. 

“I don’t need a group of gaggling girls to prove my worth as a player.” He snaps but the words are empty of any malice and anger, instead Iwaizumi looks like he might laugh from his friends' antics. 

“So meat-buns?” 

“So I got an interesting call yesterday.” The trio of guys seem to block out Oikawa’s words, however it’s the underlying excitement in his tone that has your noodles stopping half in your mouth. The moment your slurp stills, one by one your friends turn to him with feigned disinterest, obviously now picking up on the serious vibe Oikawa is radiating. It’s not that he’d never be serious, but normally any proper concentration is focused on volleyball so… Nervously, you bite into your noodles, letting the remainder that hung from your lips pathetically drop back into your soba bowl. 

“Are you going to just say it or make us guess crappy-kawa?” Iwaizumi grumbles, pushing his food around with his chopsticks. However, the grin that breaks out across Tooru’s face has the soba in your stomach turning to lead. 

“I got an offer to train with José Blanco.” The confusion on your face is one hundred percent sincere, because although you’re friends with volleyball jocks, that doesn’t mean you have a bottomless pit of knowledge of every star player to ever walk the face of the earth, past and present. But you can make a rough guess that he’s someone Oikawa really looks up to due to the delight filling Oikawa’s features. 

“As in the Argentinian setter?” Mattsun’s words have alarm bells ringing inside your head. And as Oikawa nods his head, you find one of your greatest fears come to life right in front of your eyes. 

“After graduation, I’ll be moving to Argentina to play for the CA San Juan team.” You choke. 

All faces turn to you as your food catches in your throat, your stomach threatening to lurch and make your lunch have a second appearance although for a completely different reason. Pushing his glass of water across the table, you can’t bring yourself to even look at Oikawa as you down half the glass. The moment your chest stops heaving and your coughing fit ceases, you manage to look into Oikawa’s golden hued gaze and your chest throbs - and not from choking. 

Makki and Mattsun congratulate him whilst you look back to your soba as if trying to find the answers to your life in. Because honestly, you’re completely lost. 

Oikawa was moving to Argentina. He was leaving. To Argentina. Argen-fucking-tina. 

Sniffling away the stinging in your eyes, you don’t look back up until you’ve managed to school your features to something akin of happiness. 

But as you look at your best friend, he’s already looking at you with worry strung through his features. And that's where you know for sure, that you’ve got to show him you’re happy for him. Because you are, you’re so proud and happy that he has this opportunity because out of every person you’ve ever known - he deserves it. 

But there’s the selfish part of your soul that wants to scream and cry until you’re blue in the face and your lungs are burning. That part of you wants to tell him to stay, that you love him and you want him here. That part of you however gets shoved further and further down into the deep dark depths of your heart as you listen to him talk ecstatically to Iwaizumi about going. 

Even as Oikawa corners you as you all begin to disperse from your usual Friday afternoon post-practice feed, that despair leaking from your heart is buried six feet under - so deep that it doesn’t affect the smile that reaches your eyes. 

Even as Oikawa’s brown eyes glitter down at you as he silently hands you his track jacket to cover your coatless shoulders, it doesn’t crack. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Oikawa starts about half way into your joint walk back to your house. 

“You only received the call yesterday Tooru,” You say in disbelief. “Yes, how dare you wait a whole twenty four hours to tell us all in person that you’re moving halfway across the world.” The sarcasm brings a small teasing smirk to the corners of his lips.  “You’re a horrible person, really.”

“The worst.” He parrots back, now grinning down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Honestly, you have no idea why he’s thanking you, or what for. Your expression must say as much, as the teasing grin melts into something softer that has warmth spreading from your chest in waves. 

“For not calling me crazy.”

“Oh it's definitely a crazy idea,” You deadpan, pulling at the sleeves that hang over your hands. “So it's fitting for you.” Finally looking back up at him, you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Where did this come from? “Did one of the guys say something?”

“Not really.” Oikawa hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “Makki mentioned that I maybe should have thought about it longer.” There’s strong logic behind what your other friends say, and you both know it. However, Oikawa has always been what you call calculated impulsive, so the reality of that would never happen. Because although he has the habit of making decisions on the fly, there is always logic, reasoning and strategy behind every one and more annoyingly - most tend to turn out for the better. 

“He’s just going to miss you is all.” You offer, but as the slight slump to his shoulders doesn't budge, you let out a soft sigh. “Look, you’ve got plenty of things here for you.” That catches his attention, enough that you finally stop and level Oikawa with a hard look. “But that doesn’t mean that you won’t have just as many, if not more, opportunities over in Argentina. As long as you remember that you’ve got four people back home who care about you and will support you in anything, then you’ll be fine.” 

For a moment, Oikawa simply blinks at you, as if seeing something for the first time, it throws you for a loop. A wobbly smile then settles across your friend's face bringing a smile to yours. 

“You think Iwa would let me forget him? He’d be more inclined to catch a flight to San Juan and beat me for trying.”

“And we’d all be there with him. You’re stuck with us Tooru - we’re lifers,” You laugh at his mock groan and bump your shoulder into his arm. More warmth bleeds from your chest as he bumps you right back, the insecurity in his eyes now fully swallowed by radiating happiness. 

As you finally settle up against the front gate of your house, you look up at Oikawa and can’t help but smile at the lack of weight on his shoulders. 

“I don’t know if I've said it yet,” you begin, looking through your bag for your keys as you talk. “But I'm really proud of you, Tooru.” You finish, looking up at him with your keys in your hands. 

“Obviously, I’m going to be your rich friend Y/n.”

“My increasingly arrogant and vain one too, apparently.” You say, rolling your eyes and walking through the gate towards the stairs of your house. 

“Please, you love me gorgeous.” You don’t have to turn around to hear the million dollar grin on his face, but you do anyway, trying to hide the blush across your face.

More than you’ll ever know.

“You wish.” With a dramatic gasp of outrage, Oikawa is by your side in seconds, snatching your house keys from your hands before you can blink. “‘Kawa!”

“Say it,” He teases, and you try to keep your frown from morphing into a smile as the bastard holds your keys over his head, very much out of your reach. 

“My mother taught me to never tell lies, Tooru.”

“Then she would be simply disgusted at the words that just left your mouth.” He jokes, wagging his eyebrows at you teasingly. 

“I’m not a liar Tooru Oikawa, now give me back my keys,” You grumble, reaching up towards his hand for your keys knowing fully well there’s no way you can reach them. 

“Give me the truth, gorgeous, don’t break my heart like this.” He groans childishly, and you want to laugh as he’s seconds away from stomping his foot in jest. 

“Never.”

“Never? That’s an awfully long time to be stuck out here with me. Are you sure you can handle it?” Handle it? No. Want it? Very much so.

“I’ve got a mirror in my schoolbag, so long as I give you that to look at yourself every five minutes, I think i’ll survive.” Just as Oikawa puts both his hands to his chest in fake disgust, you lunge at his clasped hand, gripping his tight fist and yanking at the dangling lucky cat keychain. The brunet squawks in outrage and pulls his hands back towards his chest with a sharp tug that has you tumbling from your stance and headbutting his chest hard enough that you both fall down in a tangle of limbs. 

A groan slips from your mouth as you massage your forehead that meets his shoulder on your way down, and in seconds Oikawa’s face is mere inches from yours, with his hands pushing your hair from your forehead.

“Crap Y/n, are you alright?” Words leave your lungs, mouth and brain as you take in just how close he is. Sure you guys have hugged and been close before, but this, practically straddling his lap on your front lawn as he cups your face - this is new. And incredibly overwhelming. 

Oikawa’s question goes unanswered as your mind goes quiet in a way it never has before. You’re not sure if it's a positive or negative thing, but as Tooru’s brown eyes slip from your forehead down to your eyes, before rapidly flicking to your mouth and back, you realize you’re not even breathing. 

“Y/n-”

“Oh my goodness, y/n honey are you alright?” Iwaizumi’s mother’s alarmed voice cuts in, and your small moment implodes. You practically tumble from on top of Oikawa until your ass is on the grass and you’re gasping up at your friend's mother as if you’d been deprived of oxygen for minutes and not seconds.

“Hi Mrs. Iwaizumi.” Oikawa grins, waving at her as if she hadn’t just come across him being straddled in his front yard. 

“Are you two alright?”

“You know Y/n, unable to keep her hands off me.” You gape and punch Tooru in whatever body part happens to be closest in retaliation as your face flushes brightly. The soft punch earns a hiss of fake pain from Tooru as he hunches over, holding his abdomen as if you had caused real pain. Drama queen. His bright eyes look up at you through his long lashes with fake shock, but you ignore it, quickly snatching up your keys that were until now forgotten on the ground beside you. 

“Yeah we’re okay. Oikawa stole my keys.” You explain to the woman across the fence, shaking said keys in your hand for emphasis. The smirk on Iwaizumi's mother’s face as she glances between the two of you is point enough that she doesn’t believe you. 

“Right. Well, have fun, and Tooru; be nice to her.” She chastises, yet she shoots your brunet friend a wink that has your jaw dropping. 

“I always am.” He laughs back, waving at her as she retreats back towards her house next door, arms full of groceries.

“You got everything?” Makki asks for the fourth time in an hour. 

“Who knew that you would be the mother hen.” Oikawa laughs, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, a smug smirk covering his face. 

“I honestly expected this from Iwa, not you.”

“Fuck you, I hope you forget everything.” Iwa snips back immediately, making the group laugh. But there’s no anger or malice in it, so the banter almost falls flat. Everyone falls into silence once again, as if they like you are taking in the fact that this is the last time you’ll all be together like this for who knows how long. 

Growing up sucks. 

“Oh please, you’ll miss me most.” Oikawa grins, shooting a wink at his best friend that has the shorter one punching him in the arm hard enough to make Oikawa rock back with a genuine wince. 

“Okay I feel better now.” Shaking your head at them both, your eyes draw back up to the lit up information board you stand beneath. 

Flight UA183 to Buenos Aires : Departure 6:30A.M.

You’ve been staring at it as its the sign of death, and to be honest it almost feels like it. It’s the sign of the strain that's going to be put on your friendship, of the incoming pain that's about to befall your heart when you have to watch him go. 

In the blink of an eye, the sign changes and your stomach drops. 

Flight UA183 to Buenos Aires : Boarding now.

 How was it time already? You had all arrived at 5am watching the sun slowly rise over the mountains surrounding Miyagi, and had been waiting ever since. How has over an hour already passed?

Over the intercom, the announcement of the now boarding flight comes through, causing the quiet banter between the group of boys to fall silent once more. 

“Well, that’s me.” You watch in silence as Oikawa says his goodbyes to his friends, already having said goodbye to his parents before he left the airport, not wanting to deal with his mother sobbing over him in public. 

Your friends would deny it, but there wasn’t a single dry eye as they talk quietly to each other. Makki gapes as Mattsun turns from Oikawa’s embrace, trying to subtly swipe under his eyes, but he just offers his friend his middle finger in response, as if Makki wasn't also in tears. 

Iwaizumi holds Oikawa for a second longer than the others, and you subconsciously wrap your arms around yourself as you watch them whisper quietly to each other. Pulling away and doing a handshake you haven’t seen them do since they were kids, you can’t seem to stop your eyes stinging as Oikawa’s tall frame turns your way. 

“No, please don’t cry.” He pleads, walking over to you. As if he hasn’t been wiping away his own tears on his jacket sleeve for the past few minutes.

“That’s rich coming from you. Your eyes are like a leaking tap.” Mattsun says, only for Oikawa to shoot him a playful glare. 

“Pot? Meet kettle, snot nose.” Turning back to you and ignoring Makki’s laugh, you sniff, trying to withhold the tears brimming in your eyes. 

“I want to be spammed with pictures.” You manage to get out, clenching and unclenching your fists as a distraction.

“Of course.”

“And I want to know all about your teammates, and all the people you meet, and the adventures you take.” Oikawa smiles at you and playfully rolls his eyes. 

“Anything else?”

“for you to have the best fucking time, and to know that we are all so damn proud to call you our best friend.” None of the guys make the usual joke that you teed up for them quite nicely, and their silence speaks volumes of just how accurate your statement is. With a sharp breath, Tooru folds you into his arms, and you instantly hug his waist as tightly as you can, taking it all in. 

You inhale his scent of fresh spring air and pine, tightly closing your eyes to stop the tears as you lean your head against his chest. 

“I’m going to miss you most.” A sob rips at your throat but you push it down with everything in you, until the only noise that comes out of your mouth is a pathetic little wheeze. 

“I’m going to miss you too. So much.” Your voice wobbles with every word, but as Oikawa pulls back you don’t care. Cupping your face with gentle hands, his thumbs wipe under your eyes as his gaze roams your face, as if committing it all to memory. 

“Try not to be a prick to your new teammates, okay?” A small laugh comes from the man in front of you, and his mouth ticks up in the corners. 

“I make no such promises.” For a moment you stand in silence. “Y/n, I-” Another boarding announcement repeats throughout the intercom bringing your hands from where you now notice you had been clutching the edge of Oikawa’s jacket.

You don’t even have the energy to blush as you both break your hold, and he looks over your shoulder to your group of friends behind you. 

“I guess I’ll see you guys later.” He says, adjusting the backpack he carries on one shoulder. Oikawa flashes Iwaizumi a quick look and then there’s a heavy weight of his arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

“Don’t worry shitty-kawa, we’ll all be here for when you eventually drag your ass home.” Iwaizumi says from by your side, and you loop your arm loosely around his waist, just needing someone to hold you as you feel your shattered heart fall apart piece by piece. 

A small laugh is shared around the group, but it stops as Oikawa nods his head and only hesitates for a small second. His brown eyes lock on yours once more, and you offer him a wobbly smile as he nods his head again and finally turns to leave. 

Another sob bites at your throat at his retreating back, so you pathetically force your eyes to his shoes, not being able to handle seeing him walk away. 

The tears you’ve been holding in are now running down your cheeks, and as if they can sense it, you feel another hand on your back. 

“You’ll be wishing for him to leave again when he comes back and annoys the shit out of us.” Makki jokes causing a loose laugh to come out of your mouth. You are grateful for them trying to lighten the mood, but with every step Tooru takes you feel like he’s putting worlds between you both. 

Tracking his sneaker clad feet, you watch him move until he stands at the terminal to the plane, stopping to scan his boarding pass. Only then do you manage to drag your eyes up to his, only to see him stare down the terminal, spacing out and not hearing the lady behind the counter speak to him. Maki and Mattsun’s quiet talking falls flat as you all watch Oikawa raise his hands and quickly utter something to the woman before quickly pushing through the people behind him. 

And then he’s running, with his eyes set on you. 

Iwaizumi’s arm falls off your shoulder before settling on your spine, and giving you a little push forward. You don’t have time to be confused as Oikawa is suddenly only steps away from you, urgency filling his every feature. 

“Tooru, what-” He’s upon you before you even finish the sentence. Your words are cut off as his large palms cup for face, his lips moulding to yours with a pressure you only ever dreamed of. Your body moves before your mind can continue on from the roundabout thought that Tooru is kissing you, in front of your friends, in an airport - and that he’s kissing you. 

Your arms immediately move to his chest, clenching his jacket in your fists so hard your fingers hurt as he deepens the kiss. Every nerve in your body seems to shoot off like a firework leaving only warmth and adrenaline in its wake. Oikawa's calloused hands slip into your hair and you bite back the groan that threatens to fall from your lips at the feeling. As if he could feel it, Oikawa smiles against your lips as you kiss him back with the same urgency. 

Your lungs scream at you for oxygen, so you reluctantly pull away from Oikawa’s mouth, his lips pink and bruised and a heated look blazing in his brown gaze. You’ve never seen that look from him, and to have it directed at you, it’s like a cattle prod to the spine. 

“I know that was really fucking selfish of me but-” He starts. 

“It wasn’t.” You interrupt, not letting his brain go down that road even though you’re thoroughly confused. An annoyed groan falls from his lips as another boarding announcement breaks through the speakers. 

“I know we need to talk about this, but I also need to get my ass on a plane. When I call you, please answer y/n.” It takes you a second to fully take in the fact that there are now nerves swimming in his eyes, his hands shaking gently as he cups your face. Whilst you’re still vibrating from the kiss, this beautiful boy in front of you is scared shitless. 

So instead of replying, you reach up onto your toes and press another gentle kiss to his plump lips that only lasts a few seconds, but earns the hand still in your hair to clutch your head tightly. 

“I will. I promise.” With a final nod, and another kiss that bruises your lips and has your heart stuttering in your chest, Oikawa shoots you a wink before running back to his terminal and then gives you all a final wave before disappearing around the corner.

All the sadness that had flooded your body is now overcome with hope, and as you turn to your friends behind you, a hand touching your stinging lips, you almost had forgotten they were there. 

“About fucking time.” Iwaizumi grumbles, and this time the laugh that falls from your lips is genuine and full of positivity, so much that smiles crack across Mattsun, Maki and Hajime’s faces at whatever you probably look like right now. But you don’t care. 

Who had thought that one of the worst days of your life could also be one of the best.

+ + + + +

Dating is hard. 

From the minute you had kissed Oikawa in the airport, it had sent your life on a whirlwind of good and bad moments that all seemed to stem from a fucking phone. 

You had been basically running a hole in the rug in your bedroom waiting for your phone to go off, and when it had, you had almost missed the call from being frozen in place, staring at Oikawa’s name on the screen. 

That conversation had been one of the hardest ones you’d ever made in your life. Because you were excited as to what the kiss had all meant, but also angry that you now found yourself across an ocean from him when you could have both acted on these feelings before that point. 

Iwaizumi had said I told you so when you’d told all your nosy friends only days later when having a movie night in your own living room. 

Due to the distance, you and Oikawa had no real choice other than to take things very very slowly, but he wasn’t afraid. In his words, “there is no one better for you than me gorgeous,.” and to be honest you weren’t sure there was going to be someone who would put up with his bullshit more than you, so you weren’t afraid when you both decided to not put a label on it for a while whilst you got used to just talking to each other in a way that wasn’t face to face, without the added pressures of what a relationship brought.  

That didn’t mean it wasn’t tough. You just trusted the boy you had grown up with, and had no doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t do anything with your heart other than gently hold it for you. 

But you missed him terribly. Face time at odd hours of the day and constant texts and pictures aren’t the same as having him there for the little things. 

Like attending the orientation week at university with only Maki and Mattsun, or saying goodbye to Iwaizumi as he boarded a plane to California for college. 

Or just the simple movie nights, dinners at your new usual restaurants, or going home. 

Your parents had been so hard to convince to let you go to college away from home. Albeit you weren’t that far, but it was still ‘too far’ for them. However it had all come down to you having to tell your other two friends about your illness, all so you could stand in your living room alongside them, convincing your parents that you would be perfectly safe and that they would help look out for you. 

It was horrible, but worth it.

Because here you are, walking out of a lecture with a pissed off Maki by your side, and everything is right in the world. 

“I can’t believe you just said that.” Makki grumbles, adjusting his backpack as he pouts. “Did our high school years mean nothing to you?”

“Sweet Jesus Makki, please shut up.”

“No!” He hisses, and you can’t hide your grin at the stupid argument you’ve been dragged into. “I cannot believe you said that volleyball is-” the man fake gags and you roll your eyes. “Boring.”

“I didn’t say it was boring you dramatic asshole. I just said that I think that Ice Hockey is more interesting.”

“It’s the same thing you traitor!” Maki all but shouts and you can’t stop the laugh from bubbling from your lips. 

“Where the heck did you even see an ice hockey game?”

“My roommate.” You explain, all but skipping down the stars of the building and into the sunshine. “She’s from Canada and is obsessed, so I got bored and watched a game with her on the computer. It’s actually pretty cool.” Maki once again gags and looks at you with a disappointed scowl.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Laughing, you feel the sunshine hit your face, but its the cold air that has your grin growing. Winter is slowly coming and with that means the holidays. It’ll be the first Christmas outside of high school and you’re both nervous and excited about the possibility of Iwaizumi and Oikawa coming home. 

His name causes a sharp pain through your chest that is nothing abnormal, but your smile dims a little as the longing for your best friend hits you out of nowhere. God you miss him. 

You half tune out Maki’s complaints about your new favourite sport as you both walk down the tree covered path towards the front gates of the university, preparing to meet Mattsun there to go and get an early dinner together. However, your feet slow to a stop as the front gate of the campus come into view. And it’s not because your tall brunet friend is already there waiting even though he’s supposed to be working for another half hour. 

No, its the other two figures full on bickering with each other that has the world around you going quiet. You feel Maki come up next to you and see him rubbing his eyes with his hands from the corner of your eye. But your gaze is set on the taller of the two, who has a childish pout on his lips, and his hands braced in his pockets. You want to interrupt them, to yell his name but your feet are stuck to the floor like tar, and your mouth isn’t doing much better. 

“No fucking way.” The quiet in your head is broken, and the noises of the outside world come flooding in. The fact that you can now hear both Iwaizumi and Oikawa arguing about what you think is Onigiri, tears suddenly well in your eyes and a small noise breaks from your mouth. 

All three of them whip their heads to you, grins breaking out across their faces. However, it’s Oikawa who’s smile has the air getting trapped inside your lungs. He’s here. He’s home. 

You don’t waste another second as you sprint down the rest of the path, ignoring Maki’s complaints about the move, and meet Oikawa half way. You don’t even stop moving but instead jump on him, earning a laugh from the tall brunet as he catches you safely. His chest vibrates against your torso as he laughs, and more tears slip out of the corners of your eyes as you breathe him in. He’s actually here. 

You clutch him so tightly you end up letting go, worried that you’re hurting him. Oikawa’s arms don’t leave you, instead he simply leans far back enough from your face so that he can see you. 

The megawatt smile stamped across his face has you almost wanting to squint at the brightness of it. 

Your happiness is swimming in a pool of unease, not quite knowing just what to do next. Considering you haven’t seen him face to face in almost a year, and the last time you did you kissed him, you weren’t sure where that would leave you. However, Oikawa doesn’t even bother to put you down when he leans close enough that you feel his breath on your lips.

“God, you’re so much better than I remember.” And he doesn’t hold your hesitation because he immediately crushes his lips to yours and its just as brain numbing as it was the first time. Smiling against his mouth, your fingers wind through his brown locks as you deepening the kiss. He’s back, your brain really can’t get around it. You want to both kiss him more and hit him for not telling you, but the sweetness of the surprise makes your heart turn to goo inside your chest. 

Pulling back and gasping for air, you can’t stop the happy tears or the laugh that slips out. “I missed you so much, Tooru.” Your feet hit the ground, and Oikawa uses the pad of his thumbs to wipe under your eyes. 

“I missed you too gorgeous.” 

What he is doing here and hoe the hell your two friends managed to pull this off without your knowledge doesn’t get answered until hours later, where you find yourselves at a diner close to campus, the five of you together for the first time in what feels like a decade. 

“So you knew about this?” You point an accusing finger at Mattsun, who sits across the booth from you with a feral grin on his face. 

“FOMEFT hitting you hard there Y/n?” He jokes back as you mutter traitor under your breath.

“FOMEFT?” Iwaizumi asks, lifting his drink to his lips, eyebrows raised.

“Fear of missing every fucking thing.” Makki laughs, shoving a chip in his mouth. “Coined it herself when she got sick at the end of orientation week and missed a whole bunch of useless shit.” the guys laugh at your expense, but you just level Mattsun a glare.

“We’re off topic, again. Don’t think your getting away with this you sneaky little shit.” You growl, but your tone only makes him laugh even more. 

“Why are you getting mad at me, I'm just the one that told them a good day. If you’re going to get mad at someone, settle that death-look in your boyfriend’s direction.” Without you wanting to, your glare morphs into a soft smile at the word. But even as unease pools in your belly, you’re trying so hard not to grin. Was he your boyfriend? You weren’t too sure. Did he want to be? Well he was here, sitting next to you in the booth with an arm thrown over the chair behind you. Turning to where Oikawa sat, you try to level him with the same glare you had given Matsukawa, but the minute you see him grinning at you, you can’t do anything else but smile. 

“Disgusting.” Makki jokes, and you offer him a middle finger whilst you keep your eyes on Oikawa. 

“You should have told me.” You grumble, turning around and shrinking down into your chair. 

“And ruin the fun?” Oikawa tries not to laugh. “Sorry gorgeous, but it was worth it.” The group around you breaks into conversation and you lean your head back against the chair, smiling softly as you listen to the rambunctiously loud voices of your closest friends. You'd been at this diner multiple times with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, but being here with Oikawa and Iwaizumi in tow, it made your heart seem to double in size. They truly were home, even if it was just for a little bit. 

“For the record,” Oikawa’s voice is a soft breath dusting your ear. It sends chills zapping down your spine, right to your toes as he lingers there. “I was going to tell you, but seeing your reaction this afternoon was everything.” Your heart thunders inside your chest as you turn your head to look up at him. His brown eyes are filled with so much warmth, it's almost infectious as the arm resting behind your chair moves so that his fingers entwine with your hair at the base of your skull. Its complete euphoria as Tooru gently plays with your hair, and the words ‘I love you’ cling to your tongue, begging to be let out. But you can’t, not yet. Even though you’ve been friends for years, the romance is still new and Oikawa hasn’t been in a serious relationship in his entire life. One of your biggest fears is scaring him off by saying the words too early, so instead you hold them in and let others slip out instead. 

“I really did miss you, you know.” Your voice is a hushed whisper, the words only for you and him. Amongst your rowdy group of friends, the quiet moment is there, and its one you know you’ll be thinking about for a long time. 

“Who wouldn’t.” You groan quietly and try to look away only for calloused fingers from hours of playing volleyball grip your chin, bringing your gaze back to his. 

“In all honesty, I missed you more than I thought was possible to miss someone.” God the asshole is going to make you cry. So instead of letting him see the tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, you lean your head into his shoulder, closing your eyes with a small smile playing at your lips.

You feel Oikawa wrap his arm that was in your hair now around your shoulders, pulling you tighter against him until he shifts you so that you’re sitting across his lap. Your head on his chest, one of his hands on your spine, and the other on your leg. You’re so wrapped up in him you don’t even care about the fake gagging noises coming from the other side of the table. Neither does Oikawa, because the hand on your spine shifts to your waist to pull you tighter to him, as if he too just needs to have you close after being apart for so long. To just have you there, breathing in the scent you’ve known since a child, in the warmth that has been there for as long as you can remember. 

Lips press against the crown of your head so gently that your smile turns into a grin. You open your eyes wanting to remember this moment, but they instead settle on the three stooges around you, all grinning like idiots as they speak at the same time. 

“Disgusting.” Oikawa’s not even mad when you take the fries off his plate and toss them individually at your three idiotic friends until they’re all laughing. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t book a place to crash.” You laugh later on, walking into your apartment building. 

“Uh, my mind was elsewhere. And how was I supposed to know that Iwa and the others wee going home to see their families this weekend?” Oikawa squawks behind you, his suitcase in tow. 

Stopping outside the elevator, you turn to your some-what boyfriend with raised eyebrows. The innocent ‘oh shucks’ little boy grin he’s flashing at you doesn’t work, because you have an inkling that he was well aware of his friends plans and just wanted to find his way here. Not that you mind, like at all. 

“You could always have gone with them to see your own parents.” You point out the obvious as the elevator opens and you both get in. 

“And leave you in the big smoke to defend for yourself, what boyfriend would I be if I did that?” The word shocks you enough that you drop your key card and have to snatch it off the floor like you weren’t completely flawed or affected by what he just said. He just called himself your boyfriend, so does that mean you’re dating? 

You must stand in silence for a moment because there's a hand on your shoulder that gently moves you to the side, grabbing your key card and using it to press your floor number. It shouldn’t shock you this much, but you’d been so prepared to bring up the conversation and to no doubt have a long chat about what this all was and where it was going, that honestly you were so surprised that he juts blurted it out. At the same time, you really shouldn’t be considering its such a pig-headed thing for Oikawa to do, it makes logical sense. 

“You alright down there gorgeous?” Finally turning to look back at Oikawa, you try to find something to say as you see the weariness swirling in his brown irises but the elevator doors open onto your floor before you get the chance. So instead you silently lead him down the hall towards your apartment. It’s not until you put your key in the door that he breaks it. 

“Is it because I said the B word?” A short laugh slips from your lips as you push the door open. 

“It’s not Voldemort Oikawa, you can say boyfriend.” The previous concern in his eyes has been banished when you look at him, instead they’re full of relief and joy so bright you want to squint. Honestly, sometimes looking at Oikawa has the same effect on you as if you stare at the sun. 

“I just didn’t want to freak you out.” He offers, following into your small apartment after you. Closing the door, you offer him a tour of your very small two bedroom apartment. Your roommate is out with some friends tonight and you’re not sure if she will be home, but you sent her a heads up that the person sleeping on your couch is not a creeper who broke in. 

She just responded with three wink face emojis followed by an eggplant that had you blushing so hard you had to lock the screen before Oikawa had seen what she’d sent. If he had, you’d have never heard the end of it. 

“You didn’t freak me out,” You reply, putting his suitcase against the wall and moving into the kitchen to make tea.

“You just weren’t expecting it.” You don’t even have to look over your shoulder to know he's now sporting a smug grin as he lowers himself to your bar stools at the counter. 

You boil the kettle, making a big effort of getting two mugs as you talk. “I was just a bit unsure.” You say going with true honesty. 

“About us?” There’s so much anxiety in his tone that you quickly turn around to Oikawa, watching him run an uneasy hand through his hair. 

“No!” You say immediately. Trying to backpedal this situation away from the giant hole you’ve started digging. “I wasn’t sure if-” a blush creeps onto your cheeks as you realise just how childish what you’re saying is. A groan leaves you lips as you run a hand down your face. You’re a college student for crying out loud, a borderline adult and yet you are about to have the ‘are you my boyfriend’ conversation? You thought dating as an adult was supposed to be easier. 

“I was your boyfriend?” You flinch as Oikawa suddenly appears in front of you, your heart thundering from both surprise and anticipation as he looks down at you. Unable to form words or thoughts really, you give him a short nod in reply. 

“You mean all this time, all these months, you thought I was just what? A friend who flirts with you?” He doesn’t seem annoyed or mad, but startled as he tries not to laugh. You want to curl up in a ball and die at your naivety, but the man in front of you doesn’t let you move. 

“I don’t know what I thought.” You offer helplessly, which just makes him chuckle more. Suddenly his face goes sombre and he looks at you in distress.

“Wait does that mean you’ve been acting like you’re still single all this-” You cut him off with a palm over his mouth, not letting his brain go down that route and fill his head with doubt. 

“No. In case you didn’t realize Tooru, no one is really knocking at my door to take me out. And even if there were people, I wouldn’t even notice them.” Because you take up ever free space in my mind so much that its maddening. You don’t say that last part though, instead you search his face until you see the relief in his eyes, and watch his shoulders relax until he’s leaning his head on your shoulder, a sigh leaving his lips as he moves. 

Your hand weaves into his brown locks and for a moment you just take in how soft his hair is. You’d dreamed of doing simple domestic things like this with him for such a long time, but had thought it would never happen. But having Oikawa here, in your kitchen, his hands gently placed on your hips, one thumb softly brushing over your soft skin where it sits just underneath your shirt. It’s all brain numbing and overwhelming that this is your life. 

“There’s no one else but you.” His words are muffled slightly due to the fact he’s facing down, but you hear them all the same. Your heart swells all the same as he raises his head and looks at you with the softest smile that causes your chest to physically tighten. 

“You’re it baby. We’re lifers.” Your words being tossed in your face cause you to laugh, and Oikawa gently lets you go before hip checking you out of the way. 

“You go change, I'll make tea.” You go to argue about how he’s the guest in your place, but the devil places a chaste kiss to your lips that has your brain short circuiting. 

The smug grin that paints his mouth as his eyes flare at your lips proves that he knows it too. 

“Go get comfy, then move your sweet ass to the couch and put on Solange whilst I do this.” The name of the Spanish soap opera you and Oikawa started watching to help you both learn Spanish has a grin pulling to your face. Turning to skip out of the kitchen, you squawk in outrage as Oikawa taps your ass as you leave. His laugh echoes as you quickly skip to your room, changing into your comfy clothes and then find yourself on the couch connecting your laptop to the tv. By the time he sits down, the opening credits are playing and you go to take your tea, but your boyfriend puts them both on the coffee table before you can take it. About to question him, you hold in a squeak of alarm as Oikawa pulls you into his arms and adjusts you so that you are laying half on his chest and half on the couch, facing the tv. 

You want to make a comment about how you won’t be able to drink tea like this, but as Tooru’s hand gently runs up your spine, the other brushing the hair from your face, you say nothing. Instead, leaning forwards and placing a gentle kiss on his bottom lip. Holding you there for a moment longer, you smile against his lips at the thought that he wants to kiss you for longer. It’s still unreal to you.

Resting your head on his chest so you can watch, you let out a sigh of pure delight as his calloused hands weave under the back of your oversized shirt that may have actually been his at once stage, and gently trace your spine. God is good you’ve decided, for bringing this man to you. 

Every few minutes your silence is broken by one of you asking a question, but by the end of the episode you both have no idea what’s going on. You blame your lack of attention on the fact that he’s trying to cop a feel, but Oikawa pleads innocence. Instead saying that you try paying attention to something when you’ve got your girl on you. You had pointed out that you don’t have a girlfriend which only made him groan. 

You’re not sure how many episodes have gone by when the noise of the front door has you blinking awake. Your eyes briefly trail on Oikawa’s sleeping face as he holds you tightly to him before glancing up at the girl who just came through the door. 

The brunet wags her eyebrows at you suggestively, and smothers her laugh as you toss her a middle finger in return. As she quietly slinks down the hall you check the time on your phone and try to untangle from Oikawa to turn off the tv. 

2:08AM. 

You’re surprised that your roommates home, but also surprised that you feel asleep on the couch. Who knew that sleeping half on someone was more comfortable than actual furniture. Gently slipping out of Tooru’s arms you move to the tv remote on the other end of the couch. 

“You okay?” Pausing your movement, you look back at Oikawa’s half asleep face. His hair is ruffled in a way you rarely see, and the sight of him trying to blink away his tired eyes to focus on you tugs at your heart strings. God how can someone be so cute but also incredibly hot at the same time?

“Yeah, I just wanted to turn off the tv.” You offer, grabbing the remote and turning it off. The room is cloaked in darkness, the only dim light coming from the window next to the couch, showing the lights of the city behind it. 

For a moment, you’re stuck on what to do. Do you crawl back to Oikawa and sleep there, or do you go to your bed? 

You must be tossing it up for a bit because your boyfriend breaks the silence with a yawn. 

“You should go to bed. I’ll take the couch, gorgeous.” You try to hide the disappointment from your gaze, so instead busy yourself with grabbing him a blanket and pillow. Handing them to him, Oikawa takes your arm with the pillow and pulls you closer until you’re leaning over him on the couch. 

Every time you kiss him, your body seems to just melt under his touch. Whether its just him holding your hand or stealing the air from your lungs with a kiss - you’re now addicted to the feeling of your heart lurching into your throat. 

He pulls away first, offering you a sleepy smile. “Goodnight gorgeous.” 

“Goodnight.” You manage to get out, your face a burning crimson you hope he can’t see in the dark. God everything about Oikawa makes you turn into a blushing preteen you swear. With a final glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s set, you leave to your room and get into bed. 

Within minutes of you laying in your large bed, you know you’re not going to be able to sleep. Tossing and turning, you hold in a groan as sleep keeps slipping away from you as your brain wanders. You keep picturing Oikawa out on the couch, wide awake and cold. Turning your back to the door, you can’t help but frown. 

He told you to go to bed, you remind yourself. But he was probably just being polite right? Does he want to be here as much as you want him to? You want him to be there, in your bed, holding you like he was on the couch. You want to wake up next to him in the morning, to see that sleepy smile surrounded by the early rays of the sun breaching the curtains behind him. 

You want to see that messy hair, sleep laden warm gaze every morning for the rest of your life. 

Without another thought you throw your thick blankets off you and are out the door in seconds. It only takes a handful of steps before you’re standing back in the living room, your eyes locked onto the brunet who is looking at his phone. Wide awake. 

His eyes move to you as he notices your entrance, and his brows furrow.

“Y/n? Everything okay?” You want to say no, because he’s out here and you’ve been banished to your room but the words don’t seem to want to come out. Oikawa sets his phone down as you wring your wrists as nerves flutter to life in your stomach. 

“I can’t sleep. Will you-” You hesitate, not wanting to seem inexperienced as you ask him. “Will you come to bed?” At first you almost expect him to tease you about it, or to make some sort of joke. But instead, he slinks off the couch with grace and takes your hand gently in his. 

“Always.” The moment you’re back in bed, facing him as he looks at you, you realize just how much he’s grown up. How much the both of you have, from having sleepovers as kids and watching Treasure Planet to now. 

Gently under the covers, Oikawa’s fingers entwine with yours, allowing him to pull you closer to him. You move without much encouragement until you're pressed up against his side, a knee over his leg and your head on his shoulder. If you weren’t so tired you might be shocked with how natural this feels, but you don’t have the energy. Instead you place a soft kiss to his t shirt clad chest. As you drift to unconsciousness you feel the gentle press of lips to your head and the soft murmur of words that you can’t quite make out.

Instead, your body is focused on the warmth emitted from the person next to you and the sense of safety that it brings.

“Ugh,” You groan, stopping under the overhang outside the night café. You clutch your jacket tighter around you as you fish your keys out of your pocket, not wanting to stand in the rain as you have to try and find your car keys in your bag. 

“Bye Y/n! Drive safe in the weather okay?” Your co-worker calls from inside, and you offer a final wave with keys in hand as you quickly walk into the rain and towards your parked car. It's only a matter of seconds before you’re closing the driver's side door and turning on the heating. As you’re waiting for the heat to kick in, trying to warm the chill in your bones that seems to have clung to you all day, you connect your phone to the car's speakers and make the call you’d unfortunately had to miss today due to work. 

It’s only once you’re indicating to pull out onto the street does the line finally connect. 

“Hey miss I’m-too-important-to-answer-my-friend’s-when-they-call.” Iwaizumi’s voice floods over the line and a groan slips from your eyes. 

“I was at work you ass.” You grumble, knowing he’s fully aware where you were. Iwaizumi was back in Japan for a week to visit his family and for some liked to call you at random hours of the day because he was bored just sitting around on his ass. 

“So I had an interesting conversation today.” 

“Oh yeah? With who?”

“Your parents.” His words have your heart dropping like a stone to your stomach. Immediately knowing what this is about, your hackles raise up.

“I don’t want to talk about it Iwa.”

“Why exactly was your mother asking me about how you are? Because apparently they haven’t spoken to you in over a month Y/n.” Yeah you weren’t winning any awards for best daughter at this rate, but the last time you’d spoken to your mother you had both got into a huge argument due to the fact you had forgotten about a specialist appointment for your lungs and how apparently that made you immature, and uncaring for your health. 

“It hasn’t been a month.” You bite back.

“That’s not the point-”

“Do you know what its like having the most overbearing parents to ever walk the face of the planet Hajime?” Hands tightening around your steering wheel, your mouth doesn’t stop as all the anger and bitterness floods from your mouth. “The last time I spoke to my mother she called me an immature selfish brat, uncaring for her health and those around her. And do you want to know why Hajime? Because I missed an appointment. One fucking appointment. As if I purposely chose to not go to the check up - which is a lie, I was studying for finals and just forgot. But no, I’m not allowed to make mistakes.” A cruel laugh slips from your mouth. “What grateful, perfect daughter makes mistakes, not their daughter. Not their Y/n.” There are tears brimming your eyes now and you bite your bottom lip to keep them at bay. You hear Iwaizumi’s deep sigh from the other line and you listen to the brief silence. 

“I’m sorry.” His tone is full of concern, no doubt the agony in your voice ringing alarm bells for him. 

“Look it’s fine, I just need some time to cool off because if I talk to them I don’t want to say things that will hurt them.”

“You mean how you really feel?” As much as you were mad at your parents right now, you still loved them with every fibre of your being. And you refused to hurt them, you wanted them to be proud of you and the person you are. They already have a daughter who has been in and out of hospital her whole life, how could you hurt them like that. 

“I don’t want to hurt them.” You sigh, wiping your eyes on your sleeves as you stop at a red light. 

“I understand that I do, but you shouldn’t bottle things up.” Iwaizumi argues and you simply let out a sigh of your own. 

“Please tell me that you’ve booked your flight.” You ask, changing the topic. 

“Yeah I did it today. I fly out on Tuesday, at 9pm, with a layover in Los Angeles. I should get to Buenos Ares the day after you.” Even with the past conversation, this one brings a grin to your face. 

“Okay that works.”

“I swear if you spend the entire week being mushy and act like the usual love sick puppy I will puke.” There was a big tournament for Tooru’s team that he hadn’t been able to shut up about for the past few weeks. He’s been so excited for it, but little did he know you and his best friend were going to be in the stands to support him. 

Saying goodbye to Oikawa last time had hurt a little less than the first, because now you knew where you stood. He was your boyfriend, and the best one. Even on the other side of the world, Tooru had never made you feel like less of a priority. Sure, it was hard only seeing each other on facetime for months at a time, and for him to not be able to be there for your birthday. But seeing his eyes come alive as he spoke about his team and what he’s been up to made it all worth it. He was where he was meant to be, you were certain of it. You just had to finish your college degree and then you’d maybe find yourself on Argentinian shores for the unforeseeable future. You hadn’t spoken your idea to Oikawa yet, but you knew that's where you would want to be. There wasn’t a single place he would go that you wouldn’t follow in a heartbeat. 

Now it was your turn to surprise him. In a week you would be the one bragging about his flawed expression when he sees both you and his best friend thousands of miles from where you were supposed to be.  

“I do not act like a lovesick fool.” You argue, but the silence on the other end is staggering. “Is it that obvious?”

“That you must have fallen on your head as a child because you somehow look at Oikawa and think, yeah that's my ride or die - i love him.” The words make your cheeks heat as you watch the lights in front of you, waiting eagerly for it to change so you can get home. 

“I haven’t told him yet.” You blurt out, unable to keep it in. You know you’ve been in love with Tooru for a long time, but never knew just when to tell him. To be honest, you’re not sure when you started falling hard for him, maybe somewhere between when he helped you catch cicadas as a seven year old to the young man he is now buying you flowers from halfway across the world and having them delivered to your work. At first, you didn’t want to say it because you didn’t want to scare him off, but then that evolved into wanting to wait to see him in person. 

“Bullshit.” You can’t reply because you don’t know what to say. “Really?”

“Mhhmm.”

“You haven’t told him?” Iwaizumi asks, genuinely in shock. As if this was some huge impossibility. The light in front of you turns green and you put your foot to the gas. 

“Uh, and why not?”

“I wanted to tell him in person and-”

It all happens in a millisecond. The entire world seems to freeze, the raindrops on the windscreen, the noise, the very oxygen in your lungs, as if your brain is trying to engrave this moment onto your soul. 

And then, time seems to accelerate at a speed that hurts. There’s a blinding light to your right, and before you can even see it, your body is thrown to the right. You can feel your head hitting the driver's window as the car flips from the brunt of the impact. Every part of your body aches, and your vision is dotted with black stars. A red tinge bleeds into the world, and it takes you a second to realize it's your blood as you dangle upside down, your seatbelt holding you to your seat. 

Trying to inhale a breath, a wheeze sputters out instead, stemming from the sharp stabbing pain from your right side. It feels as if something is standing on your chest, and it's getting heavier and heavier by the second. 

You can hear the crackling of Iwaizumi’s voice laced with panic, and bystanders yelling around you but you can’t make anything out. You’re so, so tired. 

There is someone’s feet by your head, and then a flashlight being shone in your face, but you can’t even bring yourself to wince at the harshness of it. You can see the horror in the strangers face as the try to crawl through the smashed window of your driver's side. You can’t make out their features anymore as your vision tunnels feeling on the brink of passing out due to your lack of air. 

With the pathetic rattling of your chest, you can’t help but let the tears building in your eyes fall. You’re terrified of the fact you can’t breathe. That you can’t seem to hear anything other than a dull muttering, and a deafening ring, and yet you can hear your chest rattling. 

Please.

“Can you hear me?” A somewhat clear voice asks, but your eyes are drooping. You can barely keep them open as sleep tries to drag you away. 

I don’t want to die here. Please.

“How far away is the ambulance?” 

I’m not even twenty. I can’t die now, not like this.

You try to force your eyes open, but everything around you is hazy at the edges. Your friends' laughing faces pop into your mind. Maki’s mischievous grin, Mattsun’s low chuckle, Iwaizumi’s olive green eyes rolling in annoyance even with a small smile on his face. And Oikawa - you see Tooru’s sweet half asleep smile, his brown eyes soft as he looks at you like he did the day he woke up in your bed. 

‘You alright gorgeous?’ 

No, you’re so scared. But somehow, in some small way, you find yourself smiling as you see those brown eyes filled with nothing other than love and happiness. And even as you feel yourself slipping away, you’re smiling because he’s there - like he’s always been.

It’s a 30 hour trip from Buenos Aires to Tokyo. Oikawa had 30 hours of his heart lodged in his throat, trying to hold it together on a international flight whilst flight attendants smiled their fake fucking smiles at him, as if his world wasn’t crumbling around him. 

He’d been in the middle of early morning practice when he’d found out. The assistant coach of his club had come running into the room with a flurry of rapid Spanish that even with the help of his teammates, the stupid but addictive Spanish soap opera that you’d recommended and just god given talent he had no chance of understanding. But apparently his teammates did, because the room stilled as if the grim reaper himself had appeared before them all. He may as well have, because the minute the assistant coach’s eyes locked onto Oikawa, a phone held in his hand that an eerie chill crawled up his spine. 

“Oikawa you got a call to the clubhouse line and… you- you need to take this.” The man all but shoved the phone into his hands and for a moment, Oikawa stared at the unfamiliar number on the screen. Why would someone be calling the clubhouse for him? All his friends and family had his mobile, which he albeit normally turned off during practices, but they all knew that. Questions ran through his mind hundreds of miles a second as he slowly held the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Tooru?” Something was wrong. Call it intuition, a fucking gut feeling, the universe throwing him a bone to prepare, or the fact that Iwaizumi was gasping for air, his voice breaking. A frown immediately pulled at Oikawa’s brow as his heart thundered nervously in his chest. What the hell was going on? Was it his parents? Iwaizumi’s parents? Has something happened to Makki or Mattsun? 

“Iwa? Are you okay-” Iwaizumi didn’t even let him finish before he was all but yelling down the phone in a hysteric panic. 

“I was on the phone to Y/n, she was driving home from work when suddenly there was this bang and now I can’t get onto her. Something is wrong, it's been an hour and I can't get onto her.” His breath gets stuck in his chest as his brain stills on your name. 

Impossible, he had texted you before practice, he’d made a joke about not wearing a shirt today to deliberately get sunburnt so that it lured you across the pond to rub aloe vera ointment on his ‘rock hard abs’, and you’d laughed, and said that you’d be shoving it down his throat if he purposely got sunburnt to get felt up - which was a something you promised to do for free. 

That had been just two hours ago. One hundred and twenty minutes. Seven thousand two hundred seconds. 

He had just spoken to you, you were fine. 

“Iwaizumi what are you talking about-” The line cut out and Oikawa let out a stressed groan in frustration as he shoved the phone into the assistant manager's chest. Pushing through his teammates, he sprints to the grandstands where he had thrown his bottle and phone. The seconds that it takes to power back up his phone are the longest Oikawa thinks he’s felt in his entire life. Even when his lock screen lit up on an image of you mid laugh, head tilted back in the sun from a hike you both had done in the winter he was there last - Oikawa’s gasps for breath don’t dissipate. He knew he was on the verge of hyperventilating as he found your number and it dials. 

Every dial tone seemed to take minutes as it rang out. He doesn't try again, this time trying Iwaizumi once more, whose phone goes straight to voicemail. Tears stung Oikawa’s eyes from fear of what the hell could possibly be going on. Where the fuck were you? Were you alright? Were you safe? 

He didn’t even know who he calls next until the line clicks and your name is the first one out of his mouth.

“Y/n?” 

“Oikawa?” 

“Mattsun, what the fuck is going on.” He was yelling now, but he didn’t feel bad in the slightest about barking at his friend. Not as he crouched down on his hunches, a hand in his hair, eyes stinging and hit bottom lip caught brutally between his teeth. 

“Oikawa, you- you need to come home.” Matsukawa was sobbing down the line, and that enough made his traitorous tears leak from his eyes. 

“Y/n was in an- an accident.”

To be honest, he doesn’t exactly remember what happened between then and when he touched down in Tokyo. Even if you asked him years later, he wouldn’t be able to tell you how the hell he got on that flight, then got through the airport and to the hospital. 

But the sight that meets him when he barged into room 205 in the ICU, that he won’t ever be able to forget, as much as he tries to rid the image from his eyes. Seeing your young battered body, hooked up to so many machines, has Oikawa crumbling to his knees the second he meets your beside. 

“Nononononono please.” Trembling hands touch your face, and what was once so warm feels sickeningly cold. A broken noise escapes him as Tooru grabs your one hand not hooked up to an IV and presses it to his forehead, desperate to feel you move, to stroke his hair and tell him he's being dramatic. 

‘You’re so fucking dramatic Kawa.’

“Please gorgeous, please don’t leave me. Please,” Tears fall down his face in a steady stream as he roars at the pain threatening to possess him. But then there's a warm hand at his shoulder and another on the back of his head and he doesn’t have to move to know that Iwaizumi is kneeling next to him, with your other two friends at his back.

“Please, I love you.” His hoarse voice breaks. “Please, come back to me, please I’ll do anything. Don’t leave me, not yet.” Not yet. Not ever.

You love the summer, it’s been your favourite season since you were a kid because it meant spending so much time outside. It brought with it the scent of pine and summer rain and the sound of cicadas and summer storms. Even with the sunburns and lots of bug bites, it was worth it every time.

And now, sitting in the back garden, the large house at your back your home, picking at the wildflowers that litter the lawn, it's just another reminder why summer’s are now even better. 

“Mamma,” A sweet voice laughs from across from you as you carefully weave the wildflowers together. You let out a laugh at her familiar impatient tone. Finally threading the final flower into the daintiest flower crown you’d made to date, you reach out and gently place it atop of the crown of brown hair. 

“There you go, a crown for the princess.” The girl giggles with excitement at the nickname, and you find yourself marvelling at her smile. It’s one you see everyday when you look in the mirror, but her eyes and her hair, they aren’t yours. The chocolate brown locks only brought out the light brown of her eyes, a colour that almost seemed amber in most lights and seemed to radiate with optimism so bright it warmed every part of your body. She was your daughter. The embodiment of your soul walking outside of your body. The very best parts of you fill the little rambunctious four year old, who’s eye’s burn with curiosity at everything, paired with a fierce brave heart that she allows to lead her everywhere. 

She is everything you thought she would be.

“Mamma?” The girl's smile drops to a sad smile and she looks at you with sadness.

“What’s the matter my love?” You ask, reaching out to wipe a smudge of dirt from her cheek. 

“What about daddy?” Your arm freezes as it touches the soft skin of her cheek, tanned from spending days out in the sunshine.

“What about daddy?” 

“You’re not going to say goodbye?” She asks, tilting her head in confusion as she looks at you. “He’ll be awfully sad if you forget.” 

“Who are you-” Brown eyes and brown hair the mirror image of another floods your brain along with teasing grins, sweet kisses, whispers in the dark and an even warmer love. You feel as if a rug has been pulled out from beneath you and you fall. Tumbling as you see yourself staring at the blinding headlights of a bus, you can hear the honk as it runs the red light, and you watch your car crumple and roll. You see it, see the people coming out from the bus, the man from the car behind you getting out and running to your aid. You see it all until your world crumbles to pieces, only to find yourself standing inside a crisp white room. 

A multitude of paper cranes of every colour are tacked to hand from the ceiling, fresh hydrangeas placed in vases all over your window sill, enough that there is no room left on any surface. The room looks like a florist, but that's not what draws your attention. 

No, it’s the exhausted brunet who sits at your bedside, clutching the hand of a woman in a hospital bed, his forehead pressed to it. Tooru should be on the other side of the world, but here he sits, holding that hand, his face covered. The urge to see his face, to see him properly once more has you taking a tentative step towards him.  You open your mouth to speak, moving to reach out to him in hopes of saying what, you’re not sure. But something. Anything.

“Oikawa?” It isn’t your voice that echoes through the air softly, instead it belongs to a shattered looking Iwaizumi who pokes his head through the door. You blanch at your friend, who is here wherever here is and not in America. Why isn’t he in another country? Your eyes fall back to Tooru who hasn’t lifted his head from that hand, and you feel your heart battering against your chest as your eyes fall to the battered human lying in that bed. It’s you. You look down at your own hands, but you look normal, but judging by your friends you can tell they can’t see you. What the hell is going on?

“I got you some clean clothes, and a phone charger.” Iwaizumi says so softly, bringing in a black duffle bag and plopping it on the bottom of the bed near your feet. It’s only then does Oikawa look up, and the pure defeat in his gaze has your heart breaking inside your chest. Dark circles cover his eyes, and his face is gaunt as if he hasn’t seen the sun or eaten in days. 

He only nods to his friend before letting his dull eyes flicker back to you. There’s a dull tingling in your hands and suddenly, you know why you’re seeing this. Tears well inside your eyes as you look at Oikawa's curved shoulders. You watch silently as Iwaizumi gently kneels next to him and gently places his hand on his. 

“I’m here, always.” Oikawa just looks from his friend back to the bed, biting his bottom lip to hold back his emotions. So you look out the open doorway to the two men standing either side, just watching silently.

‘You’re not going to say goodbye? He’ll be awfully sad if you don’t’ 

The heart inside your chest clenches tightly as the little girls words echo in your head. You know that’s why you’re here, and even if they can’t see you or hear you, you’ve been given this chance. A final goodbye to the people most important to you in the world. To those who were there for every major moment of your adolescent and teenage life. A chance to say goodbye to your friends, the ones you love so fucking much. 

There’s no way you’re going to pass it up.

Turning to the duo by the door, your throat hurts from holding in your emotions as you move towards them. Mattsun and Makki look through you, and you offer them a sweet smile before tears brim your eyes. Reaching out, you grip their hands, warmth bleeding into your tingling limbs and offer them a tear filled smile as they gape at their hands. 

“Thank you both for having my back, always. For being my family when mine wasn’t enough, and my anchors when Oikawa was gone. You two mean more to me than I can articulate - and I love you both.” You thank them, not noticing them blink in surprise as you turn to the duo by your bedside as if a chill swept over them both.

As Iwaizumi stands from Oikawa’s side, with a hesitant glance to you on the bed and a subtle wipe of his sleeve to his eye, he finally turns his back. You watch for a moment, taking a last good look at your absolute best friend. His shoulders are bunched as he shoves his clenched hands in his pockets. The steep frown on his face you know is holding in his emotions, because you’d seen that look before when he was eight and he came to visit you in hospital the last time. You hate that you’re doing this to him again. On his trek to the door, Iwaizumi hesitates only a step in front of you, his head looking back over his shoulder to your hospital bed, his chest rattling with emotion. You press a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it as if he could feel you, wanting to comfort him somehow. Iwaizumi pauses there and you let yourself take in your best friend's face once more. 

“Iwa…” You let out a shaky laugh using the nickname he detests. “You were my very first friend. My brother. The other side of my battered and bruised coin. Thank you for showing me what unconditional loyalty and friendship is. For that I will love you and be by your side, always. Please tell my parents I’m sorry, and tell them I love them.” You see him stiffen, tears welling in his eyes as he stares at the bed where you lie, and then you turn finally to the person who is your heart walking around outside of your body. You can feel the others lingering in the doorway as if waiting as you stand next to Oikawa, kneeling where Iwaizumi once had. Tears run down the brunet's cheeks and you immediately feel your soul bleeding out for him. 

“I’m so sorry I have to go.” You cry, sniffling as your words break. “I love you so much, Tooru. I’m sorry I never got the chance to tell you. I’m sorry we didn’t have more time. I wish I could have been the great love of your life, but I want-” A sob rips from your chest. “I need you to know,” You reach forwards and try to wipe the tear from his cheek. 

“You were mine.” The tingling up your limbs has stemmed up your arms and now warmth fills your chest. You know you’re running out of time. 

“I want you to grow old, get married, have lots of babies, to be happy and have so so many memories and stories. When I see you again, I want to hear about them all. I want you to fall in love and live Tooru, even if it's not with me.” Oikawa’s head snaps to your sleeping figure, and it takes you a minute to realize the machines are lighting the room up like a Christmas tree. Alarms ringing through the room like a bell. 

“There will never be a day, life, or universe where I do not love every single part of you. Know that I am yours and I always will be.” Gasping in a sob, you try to paint a smile on your face. “We’re lifers baby.” 

The world moves in slow motion as doctors flood into the room, Oikawa stands, reaching for your hand again and screaming in agony, as if someone has ripped into his chest and torn his very soul from his body. 

“Please, don’t leave me. Please!” Your sobs echo inside your own head as you hear him yell. You feel the ferocity of it to your bones as he tries to grab your bedside as if to try to tether you to the world for even a second more. 

“Please Y/n, please.” Oikawa’s voice breaks as he sobs and you cry as Iwaizumi holds him back, letting the doctors hurry to your side. “I love you, please. Please.” 

Hearing the words from his lips has a strangled breath slipping from your mouth. You wish you had told him that you hadn’t been such a coward and waited. Now, realizing you won't get the chance, in despair you place your hands on his chest, pressing your head to his heart as you cry. “I love you Tooru, so so much.” You look up to him, seeing his wide eyes as he stares at your bed bound form, as if he was shocked. “Always.”

Always.

‘Mamma?” You look down at the little girl tugging at your pants. 

“Are you ready to go now?” She asks and this time your smile takes no effort at all. She looks around the room as she reaches her hand out to you. 

“Let's go kiddo.” You reply, grabbing her hand and letting her lead you out the door to where you can see all your friends in the room. 

“Bye uncles.” She says with a small smile, her gaze lingering on Oikawa as he falls to the floor, Iwaizumi holding him tightly. 

“See you later daddy.”

Oikawa’s world goes quiet as he stares at the doors to the hospital room that has been your home for the last few days. The last place you would ever breathe in. 

He’d been dragged from the room screaming as doctors worked around him, trying to fix something they all knew couldn’t be repaired. He had shouted, roared at them to do something, to save you. But the nurses only looked on with tears in their eyes as Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa and folded him into his chest as he begged. You were only nineteen, you were so young. You had your whole life ahead of you, a life with him. 

And now here he was, hours later sitting on the floor staring at the door where you had been. Not able to grab the parts of you from the room he had brought to try and bring himself some semblance of reality. 

There’s a scuffing of shoes, and a thump from next to him but he doesn’t have to look up to know it’s his friends. 

“I uh- noticed this fall out of your pocket on the floor. ” In her room, he doesn’t add. Iwaizumi’s voice is hoarse from crying, and Oikawa can’t bring himself to look at him. He had lost the love of his life today, and Iwaizumi had lost a sister. 

“I- I know she’d want you to have it.” Finally looking up at his friend, a broken noise escapes his throat as he sees the dainty chain dangling from Iwaizumi’s hand. A sob chokes him as he looks at the golden pendant swinging softly from side to side. Tooru had bought it for you for your one birthday months ago, The first initial of your name is stamped onto the small rectangular pendant, and as he flips it over in his hand, the small T stares back at him. How had it gotten there? You’d been wearing it in the crash, and when he’d arrived at the hospital. How had it gotten in his pocket? 

He thinks back to the moment the room had erupted into chaos. Oikawa could have sworn he’d felt something through his tears, but wasn’t sure. Surely he was hallucinating, but in that moment of panic, Oikawa could swear he saw your smile, feel your warmth. 

There’s hands on his shoulder as he unclasps the necklace before tightening it around his own neck. 

“Y/n’s parents are downstairs.” Makki whispers, his voice breaking.

“I don’t know what to say to them.” Oikawa replies, feeling like it’s the first time he’s spoke in years. “She was their daughter and now-” there’s nothing more he can say, but luckily he doesn’t have to. Instead, Mattsun’s arm hooks around Oikawa’s shoulder and as the brunet buries his head in his knees, his friend speaks a truth that all of them will agree on.

“Now, we keep her image alive.” Iwaizumi hisses through his tears, and Oikawa rubs a hand across his mouth, unable to form words. SO instead, he nods, looking his friend right in the eyes, as distant and dead as his own. They would keep your image alive for the rest of their lives. You were their best friend, their family, there was no way they'd let you go.

Ever.

“Thanks for coming,” Your father seems to have aged five years in the span of twelve months. Though, having your child pass away will do that to you. 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Oikawa gives the an who is like a second father to him a soft smile in return. 

“Thanks for the call. I appreciate it.” 

“I knew if I didn’t you’d not stop by.” The flash of a smile is so brief on your fathers face. Since you passed, he’d only visited them twice. The first time was by accident when he had come home to see his friends and his folks, and the second was on purpose when Oikawa had finally managed to work through your belongings in your apartment, picking some things your parents might want. 

He’d watched your mother break down over an image of them all and since then, he didn’t want to be a reminder of what they lost, so he’d kept his space. But when he’d gotten the call this morning from your father, asking for him to come around he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. 

“We had been going through some of her old things.” Your father explains and Oikwa tries not to stumble as he removes his sneakers. 

“And we thought you might want to have a look. You’re welcome to take anything you’d like.” Pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, your father lets out a sigh. 

“If you don’t want anything we understand. Moving on will be harder if you have constant reminders of her but w just wanted to offer-”

“Thank you.” The words leave Oikawa’s mouth in a rushed hurry. There was no universe where Oikawa would ever move on from you completely. Even after twelve months, there are many parts of his life that remain unchanged, simply to preserve the essence of you in it. Whether its the battered pendant hanging from his neck, or one of the plain gold band rings of yours he had gotten resized just so he could wear it. He still had your makeup in a box in his apartment in Argentina, your perfume too. 

“Take as long as you want.” Your dad says as he slips into the kitchen. Oikawa’s feet lead him down the familiar hall and up the staircase. In every part of this house are memories of you. Maybe that’s why your parents were discussing putting it up for sale, hence the reason they’re going through your old things. 

Running a hand up the wooden rail, he can practically hear your laugh as him and Iwaizumi had cramped onto a mattress with you and slid down the wooden staircase, laughing as your mother yelled in fright from the top of the stairs. 

As he breached your bedroom, his heart tugged painfully in his chest as he took in the decor. It was the exact same as he’d seen it the day before he’d left for Argentina. Nature posters cover the walls, and polaroid pictures litter one of the walls. That’s what draws him in first. 

You’d been obsessed with polaroids as a kid, much to Iwaizumi’s dismay as he hated being on camera. The fact that many of those pictures were of nine year old him posing obnoxiously brought a laugh to his lips. Reaching out, he grabbed one off the wall, a ball stuck in his throat as he looked at the familiar image. You hung between Iwaiuzmi and Oikawa’s shoulders, the three of you covered in dirt, cuts and bruises. You had a blue flower bandaid on your chin and dirt smudged on your face like they did, but it was the bright grin on your face that had his eyes stinging. You couldn’t have been older than eight, no doubt having spent the day outside with them during the summer, if the bug catcher in Iwaizumi’s hand was anything to go by. 

“Jesus,” He curses with a snuff trying to bite back the tears that threaten to fall. Even now, it all feels so fresh. Like you were to step through the door any second and tell him he needs a haircut. 

It was the little things Oikawa had discovered that hurt the most when it came to not having you around. The daily catch ups and listening to you laugh at the most boring stories of his day, watching you grumble about an assignment. There were two moments in the past twelve months that had truly felt as crushing as he’d felt the day he lost you. 

The first being your twentieth birthday. All four of his friends had made a deal at your funeral that they would all be together on your birthday. And when the day rolled around, they found themselves sitting at a bar, now all old enough to drink, sharing a bottle of sake with a fifth glass filled to the brim reserved there for you. 

The second was the moment he had found out he made the Olympic roster. When he’d heard the news you were the first person he wanted to call. You would have been as excited as he was, and would have bought every bit of Argentinian Olympic merchandise available. The fact that he couldn’t share that with you, Oikawa had broken down. 

Now, he’d had a week off from his vigorous training and took the time to come back home. Every chance he got he returned to Japan to spend time with his family. If there was anything he’d learned upon your death, it was that life is fucking fickle. So he wanted to spend as much time with Iwaizumi, Matsukawa and Hanamaki as possible, because spending time with them kept the image of you alive for a little longer.

Moving from the pictures on the wall to your desk, Oikawa’s gaze settles on the white and blue jersey and he lets out a shocked laugh. He’d lent you his spare volleyball uniform in high school and had never asked for it back. The fact that you’d kept the shirt all this time… tears crest his eyes. 

Reaching to pick it up, his hand meets something solid. Pushing aside the shirt, Oikawa finds himself looking at a notebook - no not a notebook, he realizes as he opens it. A diary. 

Your diary.

“Don’t fucking haunt me for this shit gorgeous.” Oikawa says softly as he flicks through it to the final page. You hadn’t hid it, ergo it was fair game, especially now that you aren’t there to yell at him about it. 

Oikawa turns to the latest page, the book not yet complete, and lets out a shaky sigh at your familiar handwriting. It’s dated back to your senior year of high school. The familiar handwriting rips a shaky breath from Oikawa’s mouth as he reads. 

So I graduated a few days ago. It’s scary to think that in a short few days I'm not going to be seeing my friends every day. Iwa’s moving to the U.S to study exercise sport science, and Oikawa’s heading over to Argentina on Friday - it’s Tuesday.

I think my internet history is full of wiki shows on how to tell your best friend he’s the love of your life without ruining your friendship, but so far I've come up with nothing. I don’t want to ruin what we have, but I don’t think I can let him go without telling him. I know it probably makes me a jealous and heinous bitch, but can someone cut me some slack please, because I've been pining over him for years, and if I don’t tell him then, I never will. Maybe I'll write him a letter-” you had. You’d put it in his backpack before he left and he’d only found it after trying to find his headphones on the plane. It still rested at his bedside table all these years later. 

“But most of all, I just need to tell him I love him. I need him to know, for my sanity, and just to know that even though he’s across an ocean and over a thirty hour flight away - I googled it don’t judge me - I will always love him, and that’s not going to change. Okay, I've gotta go because he’s banging at my door about getting teppanyaki, but I guess I'll write later - not sure so bye!” 

It takes a second for him to realize the gut wrenching sobs are coming from him. Oikawa’s chest burns as he tries to hold in his cries but god. 

In the time he’d gotten the privilege of being your boyfriend, you’d never uttered those words. He’d wished you had, for so damn long. He couldn’t fault you for not doing it considering Oikawa had been a coward and not told you that he’d been in love with you since he’d found you at the mercy of those fuckwit highschoolers. You’d been drenched to the bone, your book covered in mud and although you’d looked so defeated, the minute your eyes had met his, it was like the sun had come out. He always wondered if you noticed the smile that worked across your mouth when he found you there, but it was one of the most stunning things he’d ever seen. 

With his jersey in one hand and the book in the other, Oikawa drops to the corner of your mattress, letting out a broken laugh. 

God what he would give to hear you say those words. What he’d give to be able to see you just one more time, that blinding grin, those vibrant eyes smiling at him.

To hear you say his name, to call him an idiot, a drama queen, a casanova. 

Just to hear you tell him you love him, for the first and last time.

©️ 2022 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[obscureashe]

Hii this is request for your valentine's day matchup event.

I'm female, she/her pronouns. Bisexual, ISTP 9w8, Leo.

PERSONALITY:

I'm an ambivert, I'm very laid back, and prefer to go with the flow of life but sometimes come off as ego-centric and domineering. I have to admit I’m a lazy person who prefers having leisure more than anything else But once I find my motivation I'm pretty hardworking. It would be nice to a be boss, but at the same time, I like letting others operate how they want to do so. I dislike group works because even though I don't have a problem with socializing with my teammates thought of not being in charge is unnerving I want to be left alone to do things the way I want to do it.

tbh I often think I’m above others, yet I am always willing to acknowledge that I’m a total piece of shit [very rarely tho] Sometimes I have fantasies and ideals that I want to start creating or becoming but I give myself a reality check and let the dream fade away. I’m very innovative but still, choose the practical route a lot. It’s easy for me to create goals and envision the end results but it’s ridiculously hard for me to remain committed to the process.

I will never admit my wrong, unless internally. It might come shocking to people who are close to me but I overthink about minor things such as what others might think of me I might not admit it aloud but others opinions matter to me.

I also get bored easily and have commitment problems but at the same time, I consider myself to be pretty loyal. I'm really petty and hold grudges.

The good thing about me is that i know when to hold my tongue and temper. I'm a somewhat patient and not easily provoked. I'm neither oblivious nor ignorant but sometimes I act like I am because I see it as easy way out and I always choose easy route to get out of certain situation.

LIKES:

My favourite colour is red, i love all shades of it but i especially love darker shades. I like horror genre [movies, books and etc], watching movies, listening to true crime and music[especially indie and rock music] i like Researching and learning more about myself. I love greek and Egyptian mythology. I'm really interested in psychology and philosophy. I also find researching about demonology and ancient religions interesting. I love Victorian/romantic/vampire gothic aesthetic I'm also very in love with gothic novels. I wouldn't really consider this as a hobby cause i do it once or twice a year but i also play volleyball and piano. I also really love spicy food and cats and snakes are my favourite animals.

I may not be a religious person but i love Christinan themed paintings, sculptures and buildings. I love gothic and baroque architecture.

I may not look like it and it may come of as a shocking news to a many people but i actually love and enjoy socializing.

DISLIKES:

I hate quiet places [i have trouble sleeping in quiet environment] I dislike sweet food, dogs, romance movies[i love romance genre just not in movies], "Pinterest goth" aesthetic, sweating, heat, smell of mushrooms, thought of ever growing old, getting wrinkles and dying. When grown up people act like toddlers [unless it's from a medical condition] when people make some kind of noises while drinking or eating food, cat haters, hypocritical people,

I'm fine with being matched up with literally anyone platonically but i prefer if my romantic matchup was demon male or human female [muzan is exeption, i hate him ]

Hey, thanks for requesting a valentines day match-up from me! Yours is the first one so thank you! and 100% understandable that Muzan is your exception lol

For your platonic match-up I'm pairing you with. . .

Mitsuri Kanroji »

she would adore dancing to your favorite music! it just gets her heart racing (of course she's bad at explaining just how much she loves it but you'll get it)

she may admire your interests way too much.

and she's (not to brag) a pretty good cook.

while your reading, she'll often bring you something to eat or snack on. your favorites if she starts to know you well.

probably considers you her coolest friend

thinks about you often, especially gift wise, so expect a few small things from her like books she's happened upon. or something matching for the two of you.

tries to encourage you to do some painting with her (actually invites you to do stuff often, doesn't need to be big or anything, just likes being around you)

she doesn't always have advice if you need, but she will always listen

100% a loyal friend

comes up with a cute nickname for you that she uses all the time

And for your romantic match up, I'm pairing you with. . .

Doma »

there isn't anything he doesn't admire about you.

tries his hardest to tease you sometimes because he knows your stubborn. (provoking at times)

flirty and forward, he likes to make it perfectly clear what he wants. and he's not one to hide anything, especially if your the one making him feel this way.

as a demon i think he's the perfect match.

he's already acquired a fine collection of antiques and relics, so help yourself.

he would love your mind. just the way you want to learn about demonology, religions, philosophy and psychology. it's all very fascinating to watch you read so intently and find the answers you need.

your just the type of interesting that he needs (a bit clingy because of the fact) literally a heart throb

be warned though, he can be possessive and jealous. . . easily.

always has a soft smile and tranquil look on his face when he finds himself thinking about you.

would gladly tell you everything about himself, past or other if your interested.

he'd enjoy watching horror movies with you, especially on the topic of true crime. (lowkey giving him ideas) + holding you close while you sit/lay together

at this point you'd fully have his heart (and he'd love every bit of it) good or bad

his love language (one of them) is physical touch, and its so seamless that sometimes you probably wouldn't even notice him holding your lower back or leaning against you while you were reading.

100% offering to turn you into a demon with you, in fact i think he'd be elated to propose the idea to you. (sometimes gets all dreamy in his head about it)

kisses bites you everywhere, but especially under your jaw, neck and collarbone

an 'old fashion' romantic, flowers/flower petals everywhere + gifts (he prefers giving you jewelry)

anything you request for a certain special february day, he'll do.

how can he say no?

ended up writing a tonn for doma lol, but there you go! thanks for requesting and i hope you liked your match up!

[betzabobababi]

Broken Tom Holland x Reader

Chapter 3: Diagnosis

jtlyk there are gonna have a flashback through out the story :)

Warning: swearing

Plot: Y/n and Tom were made for each other and have been married for nearly 10 years but what happens when they go through putrid rough patch?

Summary: Y/n goes to the doctor (flashback)

AUTHOR'S POV

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have spoken to you like that" you said trying to calm your nerves from your sudden outburst, but he was making this so fucking hard. You had absolutely every right to be livid at him, he made you move from your comfortable lodge to the apartment near the studio. It wasn't bad but the fact that you spent almost all of the 3 months alone, isolated, made your blood boil, especially in your condition.

"No. No your right. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you feel this way. I'm sorry that you are alone and I'm sorry that I spend way too much time at work. I'm sorry for everything. If I could go back in time and redo everything I would. But we can't. So from now on I will try my best to be at home. I'll try my best to treat you like the queen you are. Because you are my queen."

You were stunned. You didn't know how Tom would react but you definitely didn't expect him to react like...that. Moreover you were happy. You knew that he meant what he said. You knew he would try his best. You also knew that if you told him your secret now, everything would be ruined. But you knew you had to tell him. You knew that this wasn't going to go away anytime soon. This was something serious and the only way to get through this would be if you had Tom there to support you.

*Time skip*

AUTHORS POV

You and Tom went back to the loft happy and content about the progress that you had made with your relationship. Atleast that's what it seemed to him. He didn't know but you were slowly and painfully dying. You were a relatively active person. You had played volleyball in high-school and college. Even though you were very good at the sport you never pursued it as a career. So when you noticed the lack of energy you had, and how it had become painful to do your everyday exercise activities, you instantly knew something was wrong. You brushed it off at the beginning thinking it was the amount of stress you had or the lonleyness, but after a few days of not being able to move due to how swollen your knees and ankles were, you booked a doctors appointment. You had many tests done and even had a few MRI's done.

FLASHBACK

Y/N'S POV

I was sitting in the doctor's office, highly nervous and it was clearly visible. Despite the pain, my knees kept bounding up and down. I was worried, I didn't know what was going to happen. The one person I really needed right now was at work. Tom. It had always been Tom. He was there when I got the phone call from the hospital, saying that my mom was in the hospital. As soon as I had gotten that phone call I broke down. Tom was there for me. He was there for me when my mom died. He was there for me after my dad committed suicide. But where was he now? He sure as hell wasn't here. My doctor entered the room with a gloomy and disappointment expression.

AUTHORS POV

The doctor sighed, disappointed in the results of the MRI.

"Mrs. Holland, I'm sorry but the MRI has shown you have a cancerous tumor in your bone marrow. Normally a person who is diagnosed with bone cancer has the life expectancy of five years, but the tumor you have has slowly been progressing throughout your body. I'm surprised we weren't able to notice it before, but you have approximately 9 months left to live. It could be more it could be less, but at the rate your cancer is spreading it will be around 9 months."

Y/N POV

I was speechless. I had just found out that I had a cancerous tumor in my bone marrow. I. Had. Fucking. Cancer.

"Is there a cure?" I said while trying to do a million things in my head. I need to tell tom. I need to tell Nicki and Dom. I need to tell my friends. I have to get the funeral planned. I gotta do this I gotta do that. My brain was going 175 miles per minute.

"Fortunatley there is, we can do chemotherapy or we can do the medical procedures to separate the maintining tumor from your bones. Although the chemotherapy would take longer it is the most efficient. It is costly but your insurance should be able to pay for it. Try not to be stressed during the next fue months. The chemotherapy has a 35% chance of killing all of the cancer. Now as you can see there is a very low probability so I suggest you get your affairs in order just in case it doesn't work" the way the doctor gave me hope and then demolished it with the probability of chemo helping me out was so heartbreaking. I knew that if the cancer did end up killing me I needed to tell Tom but how? He was never home. I need to tell him.

END OF FLASHBACK

AH AH AH tehe please don't hate me this might seem a bit cliche or cringe but nevertheless this chapter was a fucking emotional load. It took me a lot of time to decide what type of cancer Y/n would have but in the end I decided on bone cancer bc my best friend died of bone cancer and I thought why not? Anyways ANY feedback is appreciated!

Have a Good Day or Night Wherever You Are! <3

[watkinsdaisy]

Welcome to Aurora Bay, [DAISY WATKINS]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [OLIVIA COOKE]. You must be the [TWENTY-FIVE] year old [ATTENDANT AT OCEANIA BOOK SHOP]. Word is you’re [SWEET] but can also be a bit [BLUNT] and your favorite song is [BY AND BY by CAAMP]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

STATS.

full name: Daisy Joy Watkins

d.o.b : October 24th

gender & pronouns: Cisfemale, she/her

orientation: heterosexual

occupation: book shop attendant

family: her mother and father who also live in aurora bay, and two older brothers.

BIO.

Daisy was born in Central City, Nebraska, to a typical middle-class family. As the only daughter her parents had always dreamed of, she was the 'baby' of the family from the very start and the apple of her parents' eyes. With two older brothers who sometimes got lost in the mix with two working parents, this caused some tension between her and her older brothers at times. It didn't help the situation that Daisy was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis very early in her childhood, which only intensified her parents' focus on her. At the age of 5, Daisy's family moved all the way from Nebraska to Aurora Bay for better medical care, and Southern California is all Daisy has ever really remembered. However, for most of her life she was outstandingly healthy given her condition - she even started competing in beach volleyball competitively and ran track in the off-season. Her adolescence was pretty close to idyllic - she graduated at the top of her class, was a great athlete, and fairly popular, too. She assumed the rest of her life would go just as swimmingly.

College changed everything for Daisy. She was psyched to finally break free of her parents' tight grasp on her and start living for herself and making the career she had always wanted. She attended UC Berkeley with the intention of becoming a movie producer - from a young age, she had always loved films, especially horror films, and she had no doubt that she'd be able to kill it in her undergraduate career and eventually move to LA in pursuit of the film industry. However, it didn't take long for things to take a sour turn. Being so far away from her doctors, drinking heavily and staying up late, not participating in the same sports she had her entire life, and the germs and stress that come along with college life took a toll on her health at a scary pace. She was barely halfway through college when she dropped out and moved back home with her parents. It became obvious that she needed to be closer to the doctors that knew her well and could get her better, but Daisy never fully recovered enough to really consider going back to college.

This took a huge hit to her self-confidence and overall ambition - she'd always beaten the odds her entire life, but the reality of her illness became much more apparent in her adulthood, and she stopped dreaming about the life and career she had always aimed for. She was eventually able to get a job at Oceania Book Shop and move out of her parents' house to her own apartment, but she's never been as independent as she used to be. And she doesn't plan to be - after all, she's not expected to get much better over time, if anything worse, and her experience at Berkeley pretty much confirmed to her what everyone had told her her entire life. She's still stubborn and has a lot of spunk - but it's definitely been dimmed. Nowadays, Daisy is trying to find joy in the day-to-day of working at a bookstore in the town she grew up in ... but it's no secret she wishes she could be somewhere else.

CONNECTIONS.

Her older brothers: she has two older brothers that grew up alongside them in Aurora Bay. Their story and personality is completely UTP, but she definitely has a somewhat strained relationship with at least one of them due to her parents unintentionally neglecting them.

A childhood friend: Daisy grew up in Aurora Bay and attended the public school there, so she likely knows those that would have attended school at the same time/live nearby

An unlikely friendship: Daisy is commonly viewed by others as being cute, sweet, and unassuming (despite the fact that she can have a little bite to her at times). No one would think she would hurt a fly ... so how strange would it be that she's befriended a loner/shady chatacter in town?

An ex/past relationship: Again, Daisy grew up in Aurora Bay and dated while she was in high school. Coming back to Aurora after college, she may have reconnected with a past ex or fling.

[jyp-priestess]

Lee Haneul was born on May 28th, 1999 as Li Ling. She was welcomed into the world by the bustling city of Shanghai, China, and her very successful producer parents. She walked and talked at the age of one before her little sister would take a share of her spotlight a year later. Li Xiang was partially left in her older sister’s care while their family welcomed their baby brother, Li Cheng. Despite their attention hogging, Haneul loved her siblings to death and gave them more love than they could ever ask for.

Haneul grew up with a plethora of opportunities. Her family had a theatre background, a big chunk of her family were musicians, and her parents were, of course, producers. With this, she grew up in a very musically inclined environment. However, she was still encouraged to pursue other fields despite this fact. They found it beneficial for her to branch out and expect different things instead of forcing something into her. These being her involvement in figure skating, volleyball, harp, violin, dance, singing, art, and much more.

From the young age of 6-12, Haneul did figure skating. Of course she did her training as well, but figure skating was her main focus aside from academics right up until she passed the audition. She won numerous medals and was well known in Shanghai for this.

Her siblings looked up to her and her achievements, but she encouraged them to go their own paths. Haneul never thought what she was doing was the best course of action, despite her huge self-confidence, so she didn’t want to influence her younger siblings to go on the same direction. She wanted them to complete their education from start to finish and get good-paying jobs to live happy, fulfilled lives.

During her summers as a kid, Haneul would help work her grandparents’ farm, but also do puppet and paper theater shows for the little kids. She’s always been a performer at heart. She showed great empathy in others and tried to help or make someone smile the best she could, friends and family often found it to be one of her best qualities.

As she grew older, her desire for music grew and her understanding of it widened. Haneul quickly outgrew the talent and dance agency she was in, and decided to enter a local audition of YG Entertainment. There were no other companies with open auditions in the area at that specific time so she went for it, hoping for the best.

On the application form Haneul did not write how she was the daughter of big producers. Of course, being 13 and having done the academic achievements she had, you’d expect a child to be mature by then, but it felt as if she was ready to be an adult. Her excuse that she finally revealed later on was, “I didn’t want such a small, but significant, factor to give me an advantage or disadvantage over the other people who were trying to get accepted too. Fighting on an equal platform feels a lot better than not.”

Roughly a month later, she was accepted, and on the condition she’d start her training whenever she graduated from high school. Maybe she was greedy at the time, but she studied extra hard that summer and took all the necessary tests to graduate early just before entering her 2nd year of high school. That decision turned out to become one of the best ones in her life. Of course she also became widely known for how she passed those tests with flying colors, a mark of her intelligence.

She was a trainee at YGE for roughly a year before SME requested she transferred. They’d seen her monthly evaluations and knew that someone that talented needs to be put in somewhere bigger and grander, or whatever their excuse was. Haneul didn’t care too much, but thought experiencing a different environment would be beneficial.

Haneul’s time at her 2 years at SME gave her more contacts and friendships than YGE could ever. Sure she came to know some of the biggest in the industry, but the trainees and debuted groups made her feel like home. They’d wake her up at 4 in the morning to raid her fridge and have her cook them food, and then proceeded to bug her the entire day. That was what made them all lovable… all 40 or so of them.

Even as a trainee, Haneul spent about 60% of the time dancing and singing, plus other typical trainee things. But that other 40% she spent at the company was for producing. She came from such a big producing background it was hard to ignore it. Some days she’d practice with her tracks, other times she’d dump them in a trash, it was a matter of taste mostly.

Then, to her greatest surprise and delight, JYPE offered her a job as one of their producers. She signed the contract and transferred, but never lost touch with her friends. That decision was probably the best one of her life. Believe it or not, she felt the most free at JYPE.

Haneul’s time as a trainee at JYPE was nothing short of well, short. Time flew by too fast, and she made connections quickly. Maybe it was how warm and sociable Bang Chan was, who knew practically everyone, or that she worked on pretty much everyone’s tracks, or maybe her own extroverted self was the cause of all of it. She loved the busy life regardless.

The 9 boys quickly became close and clamored over her every time they saw her. She didn’t mind, but to be truthful, there were days she wanted to spend alone or only with a single one of them. But that of course, is hard to make a reality with how clingy they were.

Haneul and 3Racha bonded the quickest, sharing their love of making music. On top of that, there was no doubt she was close to Chan and vise versa. Somedays they’d be coddled her but against one another, and others piled on top, without any worries. In fact, it was a huge worry for Haneul as Chan was pretty oblivious and her ever growing crush was a hot topic around her sunbaenims. She could never hate them for it despite how red she’d become when they began talking about it.

2017 came and Haneul was given the chance to debut. In fear of it overlapping with the Stray Kids show, she did prep over time, right up until the final episode aired and her debut in less than a week. However, she was teased far before the show even began airing. What an eventful period. The time she spent cooped up in offices and recording studios, then out shooting music videos and teasers was probably the most stressed she’d been.

She supported the boys through their entire journey on their, and thoroughly surprised them with her own debut as teasers flew in every week. She sacrificed many sleepless nights helping them cope rather than worry about her next recording or photo shoot for debut matters. She had even talked with JYP about their mental health in worry about how they’d proceed on the show.

The week she debuted and after was the busiest but quite possibly one of the happiest times of her life. She was given a lot of encouragement, even being called an early Christmas present at some point. Regardless, that was just how far she had came on her journey, and it was all worth it.

[realcube]

YOU GOT: DAICHI SAWAMURA

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a long matchup for @ajumierose

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ if you wanna request a matchup, read this!

‘Infp-t, Sagittarius but it doesn't really fit me i think [...] ambiverted, I’m open minded.’ 

𓆩♡𓆪  according to Personality Database, Daichi is an ENFJ 

𓆩♡𓆪 since you are both intuitive feeling types (NF), you’ll be open to sensitivity and enrichment in the relationship so that is definitely a good thing going into it and will make becoming comfortable around one another so much more easier

𓆩♡𓆪 Introverted/Extroverted types doesn’t really matter in terms of a relationship tbh, so even though you maybe clash there, I think Daichi’s outgoing and friendly nature would definitely rub off on you and maybe bring you full swing from an ambivert to an extrovert 

𓆩♡𓆪 just because he is very insistent that you are so nice and he would definitely praise you for showing that to the world an opening up some

𓆩♡𓆪  daichi isn’t that far from being a sagittarius but he is in fact a capricorn

𓆩♡𓆪 there isn’t much material on Sagittarius and Capricorn compatibility, so all the compatibility ratings are sporadic.

𓆩♡𓆪 “Sagittarius can show Capricorn adventure and excitement, and can offer a glimpse of the freedom so often missing from Capricorn’s life. Capricorn teaches Sagittarius to pay attention to detail, uncovers the knowledge that the little things are important, and helps them to harness their random energy. Sagittarius may view Capricorn as too responsible, and will teach their partner to lighten up. Capricorn may accuse Sagittarius of being reckless and impulsive, and can help them to become well mannered.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵    

‘I can good empathize with other people's feelings if I want to. I often complain about my physical health like an old woman but everyone thinks that it's funny and old people feel young in my presence😅’

𓆩♡𓆪 daichi is shown to be very empathic as well, if not one of the most in the show, so both of you being sensitive to each others feelings and emotions is one of the best foundations for a relationship.

𓆩♡𓆪 and i suppose this trait isn’t exclusive to him, but he’s shown to get very emotional over his games — whether that be positive or negative —  so having someone who can reciprocate his feelings and help him deal with and process them would be so good 

𓆩♡𓆪 also being old woman-esque is so perfect for daichi because he is a senior citizen at heart 

𓆩♡𓆪 he even sleeps like he is hooked up to life support 

𓆩♡𓆪 so y’all seriously have that in common

𓆩♡𓆪 and he is defo the type to reciprocate your old person complaining as if he isn’t in like, peak physical condition 😭

𓆩♡𓆪 “your back hurts? i’m sorry to hear that, honey. but, you known, now that you mention it, my back has been hurting a lot recently too. it might be something in the water.”

𓆩♡𓆪 “...but didn’t you have a volleyball match yesterday? how did you play with a bad back?”

𓆩♡𓆪  “uh, power of teamwork?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵    

‘I tend to be a perfectionist with my drawings but with everything else i try only half-heartedly unless i do something for someone i like.’

𓆩♡𓆪 since daichi is show to be very hard working, especially in volleyball, both of you having a hobby that you are very passionate about and want to perfect makes you really compatible, since you both have something that drives you

𓆩♡𓆪 so both of you having passions is super good, as it’s not only something that gives you both some space and time to focus on yourselves but it’s the perfect way to support each other and encourage each other too 

𓆩♡𓆪  ie. you could really show that you care about him by attending one of his volleyball games, practising with him, watching volleyball on tv with him or even getting him tickets to a volleyball match. and even if you aren’t as adept in volleyball as him, he will simply enjoy and appreciate you practising with him at all and having fun 

𓆩♡𓆪 and a way he shows he cares about you is by insiting on framing all of your artworks, putting them on the fridge, or if you are more of a digital artist, he will have a special album in his gallery for your artworks and maybe even make one of your works his background on his phone. and he’d also totally buy you art stuffs and chill with you while you draw, maybe even try draw something himself but 😭 it might not be pretty  

𓆩♡𓆪 however i think your easy-going nature (outside of drawing) would be a really good and useful change of pace for daichi because he could really do with not working his ass off in every single thing he does, and help him not be as competitive too 

𓆩♡𓆪 like you show him that the 1-minute noodles you cook are just as good as the burnt on the outside, raw on the inside, falling apart, only slight corrosive crown roast

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵    

‘Im not the best at singing but im good at dancing(but just free dances,i can't even dance Macarena...and i can only dance the basic steps of the waltz😅).’

𓆩♡𓆪 (let’s ignore that fact that daichi’s va has the voice of an angel)

𓆩♡𓆪 honestly i hc that daichi can’t single very well either. well, he is definitely not a bad singer but he thinks he is a good singer so he is a mediocre singer who sings hard notes like he is a good singer which makes him a bad singer 

𓆩♡𓆪 but it’s fine because he only really sings around you so y’all and your karoke nights are simply hilarious, feel free to sing your heart around him even if you don’t think you are the best because he will hype you up none the less lol

𓆩♡𓆪 as for dancing, i think he definitely has the physical capabilities and some of the skills to be a dancer, since he plays volleyball so he definitely knows his stuff when it comes to timing but he kinda struggles with rhythm 

𓆩♡𓆪 but it’s fine! you can teach him

𓆩♡𓆪 in fact, he would insist — on some random night — that you teach him how to waltz because he thinks it would be romantic 

𓆩♡𓆪 but he ends up like stepping on your toes and tripping over just a bit 😭 but for the most part seriously gets into it. like after the first time you practise he just assumes he is a professional 

𓆩♡𓆪 and of course you were laughing because he was just being a big goof

𓆩♡𓆪 and from then on, he just uses it as a method to cheer you up whenever you are down. like if you are upset about something, he’ll talk about it with you first of course, but after that if you are still upset, he’ll grab your hands and try waltz you around the room in attempt to make you laugh 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵    

‘first i’m very shy about skin ships but i like them (but i’m not the biggest in physical affection, it depends on the day, on one day it's only small skin ships but on another day/Minute I could tackle the person with cuddles and kisses and rave about the person like a crazy woman, but usually only in private)’

𓆩♡𓆪 i think this totally matches daichi’s energy , except he is maybe a bit more physically affectionate and would be more open to like hand holding and hugging in public and whatnot

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d definitely encourage you to open up some as well, but in a sense that he wants to pressure you, he just wants to let you know that if you ever become more open with skinships, he’d totally reciprocate

𓆩♡𓆪 but it does match him in a sense that he is pretty consistent with his affection, but he’s not needy 

𓆩♡𓆪  so when you are in a state where you are especially shy about touching and are only up for hand holding or even nothing at all, he is completely alright with that and can simply enjoy your presence 

𓆩♡𓆪 however, when you are maybe in one of your moods where you are more affection and crave more intimacy, he can also still reciprocate your cuddles and kisses without an issue 

𓆩♡𓆪 he is strong too so even if you do want to tackle him with love and cuddles, he will be able to withstand and not fall to the floor 😅 he is an immovable cuddle rock !!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵    

for @ajumierose​: thanks for requesting !! :> it was really between daichi and maybe sugawara. they have a lot in common when it comes to work ethic and traits, but a big difference personality wise. i just think daichi’s personality is more complementary to yours, especially as he is less volatile. (but not by a lot haha.)

[frayededges]

psychology + mental health deep dive !

general mental health related trigger warnings apply.  feel free to include more or exclude those facts / test results that take too much time or don’t apply, you can check out this list for more personality-related quizzes to include!

QUICK FACTS ,

diagnoses: adhd, depression, anxiety, bipolar ii (potential diagnosis, autism)

triggers: alcohol in large quantities/people being openly drunk around her, people leaving without telling her (going to the grocery store is fine, go out of town without telling her and she’s upset)

positive coping skills: developed plenty of hobbies to cope (most persistent ones are drawing and playing guitar as well as playing volleyball, lacrosse and being on her high school’s swim team), journaling, learning to ground herself

negative coping skills: running away from home, drug use (weed), self isolation, occasionally she can become angry and aggressive  

attachment style: anxious

love language: quality time, physical touch & words of affirmation

myers briggs / mbti: infp

HISTORY EXPLORATION ,

are their diagnoses formal ( via a doctor, therapist, etc. ) or informal ( self diagnosis, a hunch, unrealized, etc. ) formal, she was diagnosed for the majority of her mental illnesses in eichen house.

have they ever been treated / medicated? yes, alice attends therapy and has since she left an inpatient program. she’s been prescribed anti-depressants (however, when she becomes a werewolf they stop working at the dosage she was prescribed and at that point she does end up rawdogging her mental illness for a while until they figure out how to get her meds that don’t get attacked by a supernatural system)

have they ever been hospitalized or treated on an inpatient basis? yes, alice went to eichen house when she was fifteen. it was a condition put in place for her to stay with argent, he’d help her if she agreed to help herself.

how old were they when they first started experiencing / realizing symptoms? alice’s adhd went untreated for most of elementary and middle school, however hyperactivity and attention issues were often noted in parent teacher meetings, however no one suggested it might be something diagnosable, only that it impacted alice’s school work and classmates. still, she’d skipped a grade early on so no one worried too much. as for her other troubles, the first signs started showing up when her mom got diagnosed with cancer. when things were bad, alice would have nightmares and panic attacks.

do they have a family history of mental illness? yes, alice’s father was an addict. however any further diagnosis is unknown.

how was mental health handled / discussed in the family? until alice came along, it wasn’t. there was some discussion of her attention issues, but that wasn’t often really a conversation about mental health as much as it was about her flaws and why she couldn’t just sit still. discussion surrounding mental health started when alice went to eichen house, it was made clear then and there that what was going on with alice wasn’t a character flaw. 

what are their thoughts on mental health / their diagnosis? at first alice resented argent for insisting she get help. she knew she needed it, but getting help meant change and she’d had quite enough of that the year she went to eichen house. she’s come to be okay with it and looks forward to therapy for the most part. she doesn’t feel like there’s something wrong with her anymore. it’s something wrong with her brain but SHE isn’t wrong.

in what ways has their diagnosis shaped their life or experiences?

SYMPTOMS: note that all of the below are, on their own, normative and typical aspects of human functioning. they become “symptoms” when they last longer than “normal” or when they pose a significant impact on someone’s life / functioning.

BOLD  all that are present,  ITALICIZE  those that are resolved or in the history.

depression.    anxiety.    panic attacks.    dissociation.    derealization.    depersonalization.    suicidal ideation.    self harm.    homicidal ideation.    psychosis.    auditory hallucinations.    visual hallucinations.    delusions.    mania.    hypomania.    racing thoughts.    hyperactivity.    attention difficulty.    flashbacks.    nightmares.    hyperarousal.    hypoarousal.    hypersexuality.    hyposexuality.    psychopathy.   risky behavior.    catatonia.    somatic / bodily concerns.    mutism.    phobia.    agoraphobia.    hoarding.    obsessions.    compulsions.    body dysmorphia.    hair picking.    skin picking.     amnesia.    illness anxiety / hypochondria.    sensory loss.    speech difficulty.    comprehension difficulty.    communication difficulty.    tics.    defiant behavior.    irritable mood.    vindictiveness.     aggression.    pyromania.    kleptomania.    paranoia.    attention seeking.    narcissism.    avoidance.    dependency.    pica.    rumination.    food restriction.    food binging.    purging.    soiling the bed.    insomnia.    fatigue.    sexual dysfunction.    delirium.    developmental delays.

explanations / elaborations on any of the above symptoms:

in terms of self harm, alice never actively self harmed in the ways one might imagine. she did however often put herself in danger by running away from home when things got bad, and using drugs to numb everything and distract herself. whenever she ran away from home, she knew it would be worse for her when she got back. she usually ran away anyway though.

tagged by: stole from @seesgood​ lia you’re a goddess

tagging: @thumperking​ + VIEWERS LIKE YOU!

[cricketeurope]

Hear About the Latest News on Dasun Shanaka Admired Statement, Uganda Cricket Star Ssesazi Story, and Jhulan Goswami Retirement at Lord’s

In today’s cricket sports news, learn more about Sri Lanka’s cricket captain Dasun Shanaka is held in the highest regard not just because he led a youthful team to victory in the T20 Asia Cup under exceptionally tough conditions, but also because of the comments he made at the post-match cricket news conference. Meanwhile, Simon Ssesazi, the standout player for the Uganda Cricket Cranes, was motivated to play the Gentleman’s game by his older brothers Ronald Ssemanda and Henry Ssenyondo, who have also served the national team diligently for an extended period of time. Lastly, India’s great fast bowler, Jhulan Goswami, played her final international match against England at Lord’s on Saturday, after announcing her intention to leave the national squad.

Shanaka Das Great Captain and Sportsman: “Not Just Cricket, but All Sports”

Original Source: Dasun Shanaka Great Captain and Sportsman – “Not only cricket, but other sports should also be on top” 

I have the highest regard for Sri Lanka’s cricket captain Dasun Shanaka not only because he led a young team to win the T20 Asia Cup under difficult conditions, but also for the statement he made after the match. Dasun Shanaka said, “Cricket and other sports should be on top.” Media only talk about cricket. It’s important to mention other games,”

We should admire his selflessness. Instead of more benefits for his own sport, he wants to help other sports. I am touched by his bravery and social conscience and empathy. This is the first time a winning captain has said this.

We’ve given too much attention to cricket and neglected other sports, in my opinion. Several things cause this. First, cricket is the only sport we’ve taken global. However, it’s a Commonwealth game. Among Sri Lankans, cricket has a higher social status (‘gentleman’s game’) than Soccer (‘working class sport’), Volleyball, Hockey, and Athletics. In cricket, individual achievements (best batsman, bowler, fielder, all-rounder, man of the match) are more common than in team sports. Today, cricket is a huge business.

Why should Sri Lanka promote other sports? In recent years, cricket has become a very expensive sport. Back then, we only used batting pads, gloves, and ball guards. Thigh guard, arm guard, chest guard, elbow guard, mouth guard, headgear (helmet), sunglasses, kit bag, etc. are used today. Due to the competitiveness of the game, new machines and equipment are used to practice/train. In other sports, fewer and cheaper items are needed than in cricket. T20 cricket is a quick game. Some games last one or two hours.

Recently, our athletes proved we can compete internationally despite the economic and food crisis. Sri Lankan sprinter Yupun Abeykoon is ranked 20th in the world in 100 meters, the most competitive track and field event. He is the fastest man in South Asia and the first South Asian to break 10 seconds. Nethmi Poruthotage won Sri Lanka’s first Commonwealth Games wrestling medal. Nilani Ratnayake and Gayanthika Abeyratne have qualified for the World Athletics Championships in the USA, along with sprinter Yupun Abeykoon. The Sri Lankan government and sports authorities must develop financially viable sports other than cricket.

Therefore, it’s time for expatriates to support other sports like soccer, volleyball, hockey, and athletics, which are less expensive than cricket and can help more young people.

Ugandan Cricketer Ssesazi Began Batting at 5 Years Old

Original Source: KNOW YOUR STARS: Uganda Cricket star Ssesazi commenced batting business aged 5 years

Simon Ssesazi hit a record 148 for his Aziz Damani club against Kutchi Tigers at the Lugogo Cricket Oval in Kampala.

This is Ssesazi’s best score in his cricket career.

In this duel, Aziz Damani scored 402 to win.

The batting ace was happy with the personal feat as he aims for higher scores.

“I am happy that I batted 148, my highest score ever in cricket, and this was my best game so far,” he said.

Ssesazi is the ninth and last child of a sporting family.

Star Alliance Boss was born 20 August 1996 to Joseph Kakooza and Hellen Tumushabe.

He was inspired to play Cricket, known as the Gentleman’s game, by his older brothers Ronald Ssemanda and Henry Ssenyondo, who also played for the national team.

Ssesazi was born and raised in Naguru, Kampala, a rich sports hub.

In fact, he played Tennis, Badminton, Hockey, and Basketball at Lugogo sports village.

“I chose Cricket because it’s a team sport, unlike tennis or badminton. I play hockey and basketball. I spend a lot of time on Cricket right now,” he says.

Early:

Ssesazi hit at age 5.

In primary two, he represented East Kololo Primary school in the mini schools’ cricket program and was impressed.

Rest is history, they say. Ssesazi is a regular for club and country and the top batsman.

“I started playing Cricket at Lugogo at 5.” I used to copy them. In P2, I played in East Kololo’s Mini Schools’ Cricket Program. Remembers.

Ssesazi finished primary school at East Kololo and O and A levels at Mukono Parents Secondary School.

He is a third-year student at Kyambogo University studying development.

Ssesazi balances school and cricket with planning.

I plan well to balance school and cricket. I balance books, training, and games,” he says.

Uganda Cricket Coach Lawrence Mahatlane congratulates Simon Ssesazi John Batanudde Ssesazi made his senior Cranes debut against Malaysia in 2018.

“I played my first senior game in 2018 against Malaysia away. Being my first match, I was nervous at first but gained confidence as the game progressed. Sadly, we lost” he recalls.

His local idols are Ssemanda and Ssenyondo, while Christopher Henry Gayle (West Indies) is his international role model.

Henry Ssenyondo gestures during play. Ssesazi’s brother who inspired and motivated him John Batanudd

Chris Gyle is my international role model because he bats positively with 360 range in all formats. His unpredictability is how I’ve built my game. You never know what Ssesazi will play next.

Jhulan Goswami Retires After England Vs. India at Lord’s

Original Source: Jhulan Goswami: Leading ODI wicket-taker retires from international cricket after England vs India finale at Lord’s

Fast bowler Jhulan Goswami played her final international match against England at Lord’s on Saturday.

India captain Harmanpreet Kaur confirmed Goswami’s international retirement, but she could play in the first Women’s Indian Premier League season next year.

And Goswami ended as she began, facing England in the third ODI more than 20 years after making her international debut against them in Chennai as a 19-year-old.

Goswami was nicknamed the ‘Chakda Express’ in honor of her home town of Chakdaha, West Bengal. She played 204 ODIs, 68 T20Is, and 12 Tests and retired with 255 ODI wickets.

Her final appearance was five years after India lost to England in the 2017 World Cup final.

For the first time in 23 years, her India side won all three ODIs in England.

Goswami took two wickets in her final match to help India win the match after Deepti Sharma ran out Charlie Dean at the non-end. striker’s

Before the match, Goswami said, “Every moment [of my 20-year career] has had a lot of emotions and effort.”

“The 2017 World Cup, when our team fought back, is the highlight.”

“No one gave us a chance to play in a final, but the way we played that tournament was different, and from there, women’s cricket in India picked up.

“Right now, we have a way to encourage generations and young girls to take up cricket.”

As Goswami batted in the first innings, England players gave her a guard of honour, as did her teammates.

Former India captain Mithali Raj called her retirement the “end of an era,” and England’s Tammy Beaumont said “she’ll be missed.”

Others in cricket also praised Goswami, with Virat Kohli calling her a “great servant of Indian cricket” and Harbhajan Singh calling her his “favorite bowler.”

In the first two ODIs, the pace bowler took one wicket.

Two eras of India cricket

Many Indians see Goswami as the last link between two women’s cricket eras.

Goswami, Mithali Raj, Diana Edulji, Shikha Pandey, and Shantha Rangaswamy led the way for the current crop.

Goswami led India’s seam bowling, which lacked depth until recently, along with Pandey.

Raj quit international cricket before Goswami.

Goswami captained India 2008-2011.

During her time with the national team, India went from a middling team to one of the world’s best, with a growing following and the possibility of more talent emerging through the Women’s IPL.

Her career is a model for Indian village talent.

Current India men’s captain Rohit Sharma called Goswami a once-in-a-generation player. Renuka Thakur and Meghna Singh will hope to build on her legacy.

Summary of today’s Cricket/Sport News

Overall, Sri Lanka’s cricket captain Dasun Shanaka’s selflessness statement he made at the post-match press conference after winning the Asia Cup needs to be admired. Dasun Shanaka said “Not only Cricket, but other sports should also be on top. But the media always speaks only about cricket. It is a big thing if we talk about other games and bring them up,” Instead of asking for more benefits for his own sport, he is requesting to support other sports as well.

Meanwhile,  during his second year of primary school, Simon Ssesazi represented East Kololo Primary school in the micro schools’ cricket program and performed admirably; this was the turning point in his career. Ssesazi started batting as young as five years old. He also made his senior cricket Cranes debut in 2018 away to Malaysia in a game Uganda lost. Currently, Simon Ssesazi hit a record 148 mark for his Aziz Damani club during a recent league match against Kutchi Tigers at the Lugogo Cricket Oval, Kampala city. This is the highest mark that Ssesazi has scored in his otherwise industrious cricket career thus far.  The batting ace was left delighted with the personal feat as he targets career higher scores.

Finally, Jhulan Goswami played her farewell international match against England at Lord’s on Saturday. India captain Harmanpreet Kaur confirmed rumors of the 39-year-international ‘s retirement, but Goswami could yet play in the inaugural season of the Women’s Indian Premier League next year. Goswami faced England in the third ODI, more than two decades after making her international debut against the same opponent in Chennai at the age of 19.

The post Hear About the Latest News on Dasun Shanaka Admired Statement, Uganda Cricket Star Ssesazi Story, and Jhulan Goswami Retirement at Lord’s first appeared on Cricket Europe.

source https://www.cricketeurope.org/dasun-shanaka-admired-statement-uganda-cricket-star-ssesazi-story-and-jhulan-goswami-retirement-at-lords/

[superbartisanprince]

Great Information To Help You Get In Amazing Shape

Whether you wish to lose just five pounds or run half a marathon, fitness is vital. This article provides tips to help you get and stay fit, most useful fitness tips in one place. Best dietician in South Delhi

Do you not have a significant block of time to set aside for working out? Split up your workout by dividing it into dual sessions. Instead of doing a one hour workout, jog on 2 separate occasions for 30 minutes during the day.

The best exercise programs will not only tone your problem areas and allow you plenty of flexibility. Search for fitness classes in your region.

Don't lift weights for longer than an hour at a time. Muscle wasting can begin in as little as an hour. So remember to limit your weight lifting to no more than sixty minutes.

When it comes to weightlifting, you will help muscle mass if you do a lot of reps with a light weight; that is in contrast to fewer reps with high weight. Muscle mass is is not all about being able to lift the most but to endure the longest without losing strength.Many famous weight lifters use this method and it works.

This is going to give you a great start for your day and develop healthy habits for you build healthier habits.

Improve your contact skills for playing volleyball. One great way to sharpen your skills is through playing foosball. The game requires sharp eye hand coordination skills required to win at foosball are also useful when playing volleyball. These skills can be extended past the foosball table and into the volleyball too.

Many are of the thought that daily abdominal exercise is wise. This is not the best thing to do for these muscles. Abs need rest periodically.You should strive to give your abs a 2 to 3 day rest about 48 to 72 hours after you work them out.

Increase your workouts to increase weight loss. You will lose more weight if you pack your exercises into a greater amount of exercise in less time. This will help you to see great results with how much weight you lose.

A great fitness tip to get you into shape fast is by doing dips. Dips target your shoulders, but your chest and shoulders, and triceps. There are a lot of ways to do them correctly. You can position two benches and do the dips between them. You could even add weight for every dip.

Prior to beginning a weight-training program targeting your arms, make sure you know your goals. To build muscle mass, lift more weight to increase your intensity level. If your goal is sculpting, do even more repetitions of lower weights instead of increasing the weight.

This will make certain that you're able to take less risks and get more benefits. You need your doctor's advice and approval if you have ongoing health problems or are a smoker.

Take it slow if you first start a fitness program.This helps lower injury due to improper form and getting tired out due to not breathing properly.

If you suffer an injury, resume exercising as soon as your doctor lets you, but don't train the injured muscles too hard.

When you make up your mind to become physically fit, check with your family physician first. Even if your body is in pretty good condition, your doctor can provide some great information that will benefit you.

It is great to exercise them between two and three times weekly, since your abs require rest just as your other bodily muscles do.

[bellesowl]

kiss and make up

- multiple characters 

⤷ atsumu, sakusa

genre: (an attempt at) angst to fluff ; established relationship, timeskip 

synopsis: in which you have an almost relationship-ending argument

word count: 2.1k total - about 1k each

warnings: fighting (obv), being called a burden, the boys are kinda mean but they make up for it i swear

- a/n: tbh i was kinda getting sick of writing just fluff so i wanted to spice it up a lil! if this sucks i’m probably going to stick to fluff fics but i think it should be fine? this one also only has 2 characs cause idk how i would be at writing angst LMAO if this does well enough i’ll post the one i have written w kuroo and iwa <3 but i feel like this kinda sucks so oh well

- thank u @kybabi for beta-ing <3

- miya atsumu

you n atsumu have been together since high school which is why you’ve always been inseparable

you went to the same college & moved in together right after, but once he got his job with the jackals, he insisted that you didn’t work and focused on getting your master’s degree

you reluctantly agreed, if only to be able finish & earn your phd soon after

because atsumu is always busy, it’s kinda become commonplace for you to do the chores around the house- like doing the laundry or washing the dishes or cooking dinner for him

but it’s gotten to the point where he expects it

atsumu sighs, unlocking the door to your shared apartment. today’s practice was rough, it was a day of hard conditioning and bad sets and he wanted nothing more than a good meal and to cuddle. the first thing he noticed when he walked in was the mess. instant ramen bowls were scattered everywhere, empty coke cans and dirty napkins were all over the floor, and there you were, in the eye of the hurricane. the second thing he noticed was that there was no homecooked meal.

surprised, he walks into the dining room to see you, furiously typing away at your laptop with four different books surrounding you. you hear his footsteps and look up.

“hey baby! how was practice?” you ask with a smile

atsumu grunts in reply and gestures toward the kitchen, “so.. what’s for dinner babe?”

your eyes widen, “oh shoot! i’m sorry, i was so busy studying for this final that i forgot to cook. do you mind-“ you stop when you see him roll his eyes and head out.

“um, where are you going? you just got home?” you ask, following him.

“out. i have to get food somehow” he replies, “especially because my useless s/o can’t cook a goddamn meal for me” he mutters under his breath

you stop in shock because did he really just say that?

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i heard you right.” you start but he interrupts you

“i said, i have to go get food because someone is too busy to cook a goddamn meal. what do you even do anyways- well, besides spend my money? the least you can do is cook for me, god.” he finally turns to look at you but he feels his heart stop at the look on your face.

not wanting to escalate the situation any further, you try to calm him down, “tsum, hey, i’m sorry i forgot to cook okay? this is my last final before the year ends and i just can’t afford to fail it, so i’ve been studying all day. if you come back to the kitchen, i’ll make you something, okay?”

“i don’t want to eat your half assed attempt at a meal, y/n. the whole point is that you couldn’t get off your ass for an hour to cook when i make the money, i paid for the apartment, hell, i’m even paying for your school! is it really too much to ask for you to stop being such a burden and cook and clean everyday?” he fumed.

you gape at him, shocked that he would even say that. to hell with not escalating things

“at least i want to do something more with my life than hit balls around and retire at 35” you hiss, “and i do everything in this house! i do the laundry, i clean the bathroom, i cook - i do all the things you refuse to. and do i complain? no. i offered to get a job but you refused.”

you turn around to grab your laptop and your textbooks, “just- just do whatever the hell you want to, atsumu.” and with that you walk out the door.

atsumu’s heart drops when he realizes that you actually left. sure, you’ve had arguments here and there, but you’ve never left. he pulls out his phone to call you when he sees you’ve left yours on the counter. knowing there’s nothing to do but wait at this point, he begins to clean up and calls osamu over.

-

it’s already 3 am when you walk back into your apartment, and you blink multiple times when you open the door. it’s ... clean? you’re sure it was a mess when you left, so how would it be clean? you sigh, too tired to think about it more and walk into the kitchen. your eyes widen at the sight. not only is your favorite food on the stove, but there your boyfriend is, asleep on the dining table. you smile slightly, well that explains things.

“ ‘’mu, hey, wake up babe.” you kiss him lightly and shake him.

he grunts and sits up, “baby! i’m so so sorry for what i said. you are in no way, shape, or form a burden, i have no clue why i said that. today’s practice was just really tiring, but i know i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. just please-” he sighs, “just please don’t leave me again.”

your heart breaks your teary eyed boyfriend. “shh, of course baby. i’ll never leave you again okay?” you say, tugging on his arm, “cmon babe, let’s go to bed, okay?”

“mm okay my love.” he replies and practically pulls you into bed. “i love you, okay?”

“i love you too baby.” you reply

“to the moon and back?” he asks

“yeah, and to infinity and beyond.” you reply, your lack of sleep hitting you hard

“oh, i didn’t know i was dating buzz lightyear”

you let out a loud laugh and just like that you both fall into the same routine, love radiating off both of you in waves.

- sakusa kiyoomi

dating sakusa was,, challenging

it definitely took him a while to get comfortable with you

so you guys have been dating for a couple years now, and at this point he’s def clingy

however there still moments when he reverts to his old self

this just happened to be one of those times

“OUT! AND JUST LIKE THAT, EJP RAIJIN TAKES THE WIN AGAINST THE BLACK JACKALS!”

the stadium is silent before the ejp cheering section erupts in cheers. you stay silent, watching your team below. you watch as sakusa stills, still in disbelief. you make your way down, practically sprinting to your boyfriend.

he sees you on the sideline and makes his way over to you. you put on your biggest smile and attempt to make him feel better.

“you did great, kiyo! you’ll get them next time, yeah?” you beam, knowing how hard he’s been training to beat his cousin

he eyes you warily, not knowing what to say.

usually, sakusa gets pretty clingy after games, so you you move to give him a hug.

“don’t touch me” he barked, jerking away from you. “if you hadn’t been distracting me, we would’ve won.”

you stare at him, refusing to let the tears flow. you both turn when you hear a certain setter yelling at the opposing middle and you sigh.

“um, okay then. i’ll see you at home, yeah?” you ask

sakusa merely nods and makes his way over to his teammates. you look around to see if anyone saw what just happened and you lock eyes with your boyfriend’s cousin, who walks over.

“congrats on the win komori! you guys did so well!” you cheered

“thanks, y/n! and i’m sorry about kiyoomi. i’m sure you know he gets that way sometimes.” he explains

you smile and shake your head, saying that you’re used to it and you both bid your farewells. as you walk out of the stadium, you think back to how your boyfriend, the one person you loved with everything you had in you, utterly embarrassed you in front of his whole team. before you know it, silent tears start streaming down your face. 

you enter your home and immediately rush to the bathroom. you draw yourself a bath and make some dinner while waiting. you assume that kiyoomi wouldn’t be home to have dinner with you anyways- and now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had dinner together. after you finish your bath and eat your dinner, you decide to wait up for boyfriend and watch a couple episodes of your favorite show to pass the time. 

-

kiyoomi walks into his apartment at around 1 am, completely and utterly exhausted. he kicks his shoes off and drops his bag on the floor. The rustling rouses you from sleep and you sit up.

“hey kiyo” you say with a yawn, “where’ve you been all night?” 

sakusa ignores you in favor of getting ready for bed and you frown when he brushes past you. 

“kiyo, babe, what’s wrong? you’ve been ignoring me all night and i-” you start but he interrupts you before you can finish. 

“god, just shut up, y/n. can’t you tell i don’t want to talk to you right now? i’ve already had the worst day, i don’t need you making it any worse.” he snaps

"kiyoomi, look, i understand you’re upset but you shouldn’t take it out on me.” you reason, reaching out towards him, “listen, i’m here if you wanna-” 

“i said, do not touch me.” he seethes. “you are so fucking clingy y/n, lord, let me breathe a little.”

with those words, you explode. “you know what, sakusa,” he flinches when he hears his last name come out of your mouth, “i think i have the right to want to spend some time with my boyfriend! i haven’t seen you in god knows how long- you leave before i wake up and i fall asleep in an empty bed. i’ve been working my ass off to get some time off to watch your stupid volleyball game and what do you do? you embarrass me in front of your whole team!”

you sigh, wiping away the tears that continue that continue to fall. “listen, i don’t want to fight right now. i’m going to go stay at a friend’s house for the night, alright? i’ll see you tomorrow” you say, grabbing your purse. “if you’re even home tomorrow,” you add under your breath.

sakusa is in shock. the moment he saw your tears start to spill, he felt an undeniable and unrelenting ache in his chest that only seemed to grow with every work that came out of your mouth. and when the door shut? sakusa fell on his knees, his heart dropping. he truly couldn’t believe he said that to you. now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

-

2:38 pm - you check the time on your phone before pulling out your keys. you hope you made the right move, choosing to come back home while kiyoomi was still at practice. you open the door and the sight causes your eyes to widen.

there, on the couch with your favorite flowers in hand, is your boyfriend. he hears the door open and stands up abruptly.

“y/n, my love, i am so sorry. i truly cannot express how horrible i feel, and i cannot begin to understand how you feel.” he takes a deep breath, seemingly holding back tears. “i- i do love you. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. i know i’m not the best at expressing it, but you mean the world to me- no, you are my world. without you, i don’t know what i would do. so please-” his voice cracks, “just, please give me another chance?”

you run towards your boyfriend, practically tackling him. “kiyo, baby, of course. i love you too, you know? you just can’t do that anymore, yeah? you shouldn’t feel like you have the right to embarrass me just because you had a bad day. and please, don’t call me clingy? i know i do stick to you like glue sometimes, but that’s just because i never see you anymore.” you reply.

“that will all change, darling.” he answers sincerely, “i’ll make more time for you, i swear. in fact, i’ll take the week off, how does that sound?” at the sight of your smile, he relaxes.

“that sounds wonderful, yoomi.” you answer

sakusa feels the weight that’s been dragging him down lift and he realizes the effect you have on him- you’re his breath of fresh air. he also realizes how utterly idiotic it was to push away the one person who could make him feel better.

it’s fine, he reasons, he’ll just never make that mistake again. he swears it.