hexisqueer - Tumblr blog

hexisqueer · 3 years

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wish you cared

a/n: this was a rollercoaster to write, and through tears, all i say is, osamu big himbo :/ tw: swearing word count: 3.9K (lot of word ;-;) pairing: osamu x gn!reader genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

The late nights with the light breathy words, whispered discussions, the iridescent illumination of the screen on you face, exchanging words that would have neither rhyme nor reason when the next day greeted you. But not a day went by that you didn’t giggle to yourself, alone in your room, as your eyes skimming over the words that Osamu’s fingers carelessly typed out. And you knew, before you realized, you knew in the deepest of hearts that you were gradually falling for the inane spiker, that this was your middle school infatuation. Little did you realize that this was not, in fact, an infatuation but rather something that would plague you for years, building up for years, overwhelming you, pouring out, resulting in meaningless words and broken hearts.

But for now, it was no different than normal, your heart skipping a beat as he replied to every message of yours, head whirling with possibilities of what he would say next, feeling slightly giddy if you were to describe the emotion you experienced.

The truth was that talking to Osamu Miya, it was like being intoxicated. Not that you truly knew what it meant to be in such a state, but this was what you imagined it to be like. Always waiting for more, desiring to keep going, for the night to just still right then so you may converse endlessly, not having to worry about your mundane duties as the moonlight that shone through your windows left you feeling light-headed and weightless.

But the moon always set to give way to a new day, where you could see him in real time, but none of it felt as ethereal as the late-night talks, as intimate as it was when it was just the two of you alone, as scandalous as it felt spending hours mindlessly revealing the tiniest details of yourself to him.

You’d hoped, of course, that things wouldn’t change when time came for high school; the time, most say, is when old relationships are forgotten, the path to the future is forged, a future you hoped still entailed the time you spent with the Miya twins and Suna. You weren’t ready to move on from Osamu yet, you’d never really gotten to know if he returned the emotions you experienced. And so, you ended up a freshman at Inarizaki High, manager for the volleyball team, an integral part of the group.

You were content. Or so you thought.

Y/n was not someone who forgot easily. This was a thought that occasionally graced the train of thought that ran across Osamu Miya’s mind. They hadn’t forgotten when he said he preferred citrus drinks over plain water, hadn’t forgotten the day he’d mentioned that onigiris were his favorite, or the time he’d wished someone would make him a playlist for when he cooked.

A thought that sprang to mind as he sipped on his lemon water every practice, you beside him, mocking Atsumu, or having sarcastically enthusiastic conversations with Sunarin, or tilting your head upwards to smile at him and telling him about your day while he chuckled lightly.

A thought that crossed his mind every time you cheerfully called out his name during lunch, plopping your pale blue lunchbox on the table, bringing out an onigiri for him every other day, leading to much whining by Atsumu, but he liked it; he was special to you, not his brother, not Sunarin, it was him.

A thought that occurred to him as he put on his headphones, clicking on the song queue you made for him, one that was admittedly perfect for his cooking, calming enough for him to know what he doing, yet passionate enough for him to feel inspired. He never told anyone, but each dish he procured after a day’s cooking, was modelled after a particular song you spent day picking out to put in his playlist; one that was just for him.

He liked being special in your eyes. It made him feel like he was at the top of the world. He noticed, even if you didn’t realize, he noticed everything you did for him. Your encouragement for him at volleyball matches slightly louder than for the rest, not enough for anyone to realize but enough for him to spike the ball down stronger as your voice drowned out the crowds’ cheers for him. The sound of happiness you made eating his food, always motivating him, telling him that he was the best chef you’d ever met. The subtle blush that spread across your face as he patted your head, ruffled your hair. How a simple smile from him could light up your face, no matter how bad you’d been feeling before that.

And how could he ever forget the conversations you had under the covers of darkness? The night only rejuvenated his hope that you were only his, your gentle words and stupid memes, the quiet chuckling under his blankets that made Atsumu throw a pillow at him, yelling at him to take his ‘lover boy’ talks elsewhere.

That was the part he disliked. He was fond of you, of everything you did for him, of how you made him feel like he could do anything when you smiled at him. But it wasn’t a crush. You were his friend. Not everything was about romance. Just because your face made every day, and night, of his better, it did not mean he had to be in love with you. You weren’t exceptionally attractive or anywhere close to the type he preferred, so why did people assume he was in love with you?

For some reason, however, he couldn’t utter those words to you. He knew, that you liked him, else why would you do so much for him? But he chose to ignore it, because if the truth came out and you decided to part ways with him seeing as nothing would ever come out of your efforts, he couldn’t bear it. He needed you. He wanted you.

But not in the way you wanted him. So, he kept you around, no matter how selfish that was.

“Good work, captain!” You smile at Kita-san, handing him a water bottle, quickly moving down the line. “Good work, dipshit.” You toss the bottle to Atsumu who stuck his tongue out at you. “Work, Suna,” you teased and received an eyeroll in response. Handing out all the bottle and murmuring ‘good work’, you finally moved to Osamu.

You loved the whole team and spending time with all of them was something that you adored, but you always saved the last bottle for Osamu. You were sure to keep it separate from the other ones, tucked in the pocket of the basket you carried so you didn’t mistake it for another bottle.

“Here ya go Osamu, good work today! You’re getting so much better.” You face away from him, towards the pair that were walking towards you now that they had a small break.

“Thanks y/n. So, did you decide who you would like as your partner for the English project the teacher assigned us? I mean Sunarin and Atsumu would be glad to have you as their partner too, seeing as you’re the genius among us.” He brought his face down closer, attempting a mocking tone, but it came out as a genuine whisper, directly sounding in your ear, that made a shiver run down your spine.

“W-well, I h-haven’t really decided yet, but I-I was thinking we could work together.” His proximity had flustered you. Your face tilted slightly upwards to him, and only then did you realize that god fucking dammit he’s too close, I can’t think like this. The thumping of your heart against your chest didn’t help either, or the fact that he, apparently, didn’t understand how much you affected him.

You collected yourself before you stuttered anymore. However, barely a word passed your lips that you were interrupted. “Ay lovebirds. This is still a public place. Yer too close to them, ‘Samu. Do you not see how red they’re turning?” You blink twice and throw a punch at the blond, missing completely in your embarrassed state, end up crossing your arms while the two laughed.

“Aw did I say something wrong though? Are you upset I exposed you to your knight in shining covers? Ya talk way too much with him at night. Do you even get any sleep?”

“Just shut up, ‘Tsumu.” Gathering up all the bottles, you walk away, too discomposed to face Osamu after what his twin said. It was probably already obvious to him, but you didn’t want to be humiliated like this in front of someone you held so dear. At the water cooler, you realize you’ve forgotten to bring Osamu’s bottle in your hurry to get as far away from him at that moment as possible. “Fuck.”

You turn back towards the gym.

The three boys watched y/n almost sprint away, laughing lightly. He can feel two sets of eyes on him, and the question echoes in his head. When are you confessing ‘Samu? He wasn’t. How could he when it would just be a lie? He didn’t want to be unfair with you, you deserved a shot at true love. But then again, he wasn’t exactly giving you a chance here was he? Keeping you bound to him, avoiding conversations about admitting romantic intentions, flustering you just for a reaction when he knows, he knows what he does to you.

“You should confess ‘Samu.” His brother’s voice sounded out, unusually soft and serious. Sunarin eyed him, seemingly thinking the same words, but not uttering them. This was the last straw. He had grown tired of people asking him about his affection for y/n, he didn’t realize how or when, but he had. He didn’t want to keep having to repeat the same tactics over and over, dodge and deflect. He was done talking about you in his free time, time he would much rather spend with you than about you, and people just didn’t seem to get it.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” The words came out as a snarl, his temper rising too high too fast. “I don’t fucking like y/n, they’re not my type. I just keep them around because I know they care.” He inhaled, avoiding all the staring eyes of his teammates. The words had come out unintentionally hostile, but he was glad he’d said them. “I mean, have you seen them? They’re not really attractive or interesting at all. It’s just because they make me feel special that they still hang around with us, that I let them hang with us.” His secret came spilling out and he didn’t regret it; he was glad to finally get it off his chest.

Atsumu and Suna, however, weren’t listening to him anymore. They were both staring past him, at the sight behind him, which Osamu whirled around to see. You were standing completely still, arms trembling at your sides, basket of bottles at your feet, eyes glassy.

The whole team followed you with their gaze as you quietly walk to the captain, bow without opening your eyes, murmur out an apology and exit the gymnasium as fast as you could. It was not a swift recognition of what had happened, but Osamu understood eventually that it was his words that had caused this. His brother and Suna merely stood there, shock evident in their eyes. “So, you were just taking advantage of them?” Osamu’s head whipped up at the soft voice of his captain. His words were calm but his expression was one of silent fury. “Do you truly realize how much you broke them with those few sentences? You may not have understood it but, we can all see it. They don’t just care for you, they love you. More than you’ve ever loved anything in your life.”

Osamu was overwhelmed, to say the least. He never intended to hurt you like that, but it had happened. Now, what of all those late-night talks and secret shared smiles? What of the playlists you made for him and the encouraging words you whispered to him before a game? What of his onigiri supply that you procured for him from your little blue lunchbox and the motivating comments you gave him on his cooking?

Before he could stop it, the stinging behind his eyes gave way to tears. Not because he loved you, he still didn’t harbor any romantic intentions towards you, he didn’t want to. But because his heart ached at the thought of being away from you, at the idea of losing you to another group of people, at the realization that you belonged with him.

Belonged with him, just as friends.

Your legs couldn’t carry you away fast enough. It was bad enough that you learnt that someone you’d been in love with for years now, had just been using you, but it was worse that he admitted clearly it in front of a group of people that you adored. The shattering of your heart as he spoke masked the quiet chatter of his teammates at the display. The humiliation seeped through you, the pitying glances of the team piercing you as Osamu’s words echoed in your ears - have you seen them … not my type … let them hang with us … keep them around … not attractive or interesting.

If that was what he really thought, then why did he let you make those advances? Why did he let you make a laughing stock out of yourself by doing so much for him? Why did he make you believe that he was equally interested, staying up late with you, returning the same energy you exuded?

You knew why now – he wanted to be special. He wanted to bask in the passion that you showed towards him without having to reciprocate any of the emotions. And you gave him that every day, didn’t you? Making him a separate water bottle, bringing him an onigiri, compiling playlists for him, asking him to work with you on the project even if it usually ends up with you doing all the work so you can keep up your grades?

Everything you did, you did for him. What hurt most was that he had been there for you too. He was, in all truth, your best friend. He knew every insecurity, every desire.

The time when your grades plummeted because you stayed up too late, he was there to comfort you, hold your hand and let you lean on his shoulder, cry in fear of what your parents would say, murmuring in low voices about things he did that day to distract you. The time you had refused to leave your room for days after watching that terribly sad anime, he was there to knock some sense into you, but he also laid gentle kisses on your forehead and let you explain ‘everything that was wrong with the world’. The time that he snuck into your bedroom at night just because you mentioned that you were bored and wanted to meet him; cuddling with him until he fell asleep, so you let him stay the night, waking up with his arm around your waist.

And yet, he had absolutely no hesitation in bad-mouthing you in front of everyone you were close with. Did none of that mean anything to him?

Even as the tears streamed down your face, the anger built up slowly, creeping out of you, staying with you long after your face was dry and eyes were left red. And that’s when you decided – Miya Osamu wasn’t special to you anymore. First things first, you had to sort out a few things; your life revolved around the gray-haired spiker. Well, no more.

Pulling out your phone, a text message is sent just a quickly as it is typed out.

y/n [13:25] hey tsumu, I need a partner for the English project. Do it with me or you suck. You were deflecting your emotions with humor, and yet if his face came to mind, you would breakdown right where you stood.

tsum-tsum [13:27] y/n! oh god, where are you????

y/n [13:30] um, home? Where else would I be?

tsum-tsum [13:31] are you okay? I think you should let ‘Samu explain himself. I’m sure he didn’t mean any of that. It was probably all just a lie, just so he didn’t have to answer us.

y/n [13:40] Atsumu I know yer his brother but you don’t have to cover for him like this. He said what he said. We all heard him loud and clear. It’s alright, each to their own ig.

tsum-tsum [13:42] y/n I know what he did is wrong but hes locked himself in his room and he needs to process his feelings. Yer the only one who can talk to him, so please please im begging, help him out.

y/n [13:50] I appreciate the offer but I will have to decline. It’s not often you find out yer being used by someone you love, and you rarely want to see their face after.

tsum-tsum [13:51] love? tsum-tsum [13:51] you actually love him?

y/n [13:52] ah fuck. don’t tell him I said that, I don’t want him to know this now, after he told us how he feels. y/n [13:53] Tsumu? Hello?? y/n [13:53] please don’t do it.

Osamu felt… empty. It was like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think. He was sat on his bed, staring at his phone. He tried to contact you, but none of his calls went through and his texts were undelivered. Was this how it was going to be? No more midnight conversations, no more spontaneous gifts, no more affection or encouragement? He had never implied that he wanted a relationship with you, then why were you so broken?

He never intended anything romantic… did he?

He was a fucking liar and he knew it. He knew what he was doing when he snuck into your room to spend the night with you. He knew what he does when he puts his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort. He knew how you felt every time he stood behind you, your breathing slightly faster, a faint blush running down your neck, struggling not to stutter over your words.

Osamu wanted to scream. Everything about you was adorable. When you weren’t with him, it ached. His arms itched to wrap themselves around you, forehead leaning against yours, your lips moving against his ears, telling him that it would be okay when the coach yelled at him; calming him down when Atsumu got on his nerves; making him smile when nothing went his way. You were there, since middle school, and he never got tired of being around you.

You were his as he was yours. And he…

He loved you.

The tears finally came. Messy and fast, moans escaping his lips through the suppressed sound of hiccups, tears welling up and spilling over no matter how hard he tired to wipe them away. The door slammed open and a furious Atsumu grabbed him by his collar. Osamu could barely fight back, much too devasted as the words he said in the gymnasium came echoing back to him. He loathed himself, for saying all that, even as he knew, you were the light in his life.

Atsumu was yelling at him but the words fazed past him. Out of the blue, his face stung, a slap landed squarely on his face. “Yer so stupid, ‘Samu. They loved you. They loved you and this is how you respond?” Only at Osamu’s sobbing calls for you did Atsumu realize that maybe, maybe his brother had finally understood his own emotions. “Are ya- are ya okay?” The blond wrapped an arm around his twin, pulling him in close while the latter wept, for minutes, hours. It was his own fault, for not seeing all the signs and now he had lost you forever. “It’s not forever ‘Samu. Not if you fix it right now. Do you really want to give them up?”

Cries slipped past Osamu’s lips. No, no he didn’t.

The fervent knocks on your door gave way to the shaking figure of Miya Osamu, his hands balled up in fists, head aimed downwards as quiet sobs escaped his mouth. “Y- y/n.” His arm wiped across his face, failing miserably to compose him. “Pl-please talk to me. I can’t stay away from you any longer.”

Merely the sight alone was almost enough for you to reach out to him; almost. “Go away Miya. I would like to retain my dignity, thank you very much.” You reached to swing the door shut, only to be blocked by a trembling arm. There were no words but you could see it in his eyes – something, something had changed. It was saddening, watching the strong, self-confident spiker fall to his knees at your bedroom door, no longer able to hold it open.

You’d tried all your life to pry open the door between the two of you, making every effort to keep you both close, getting along with his friends, cutting off ties with anyone he didn’t deem fit to interact with you. You did it for him – but you were tired; holding the door open this long, it hurt, a deep ache that pulled on your heart strings; binding you to him but at what cost?

“I wish-,” your voice came out quivering, your lips carefully trying to form words around the lump in your throat. Osamu glanced up, gazing at your through watery eyes, hopeful, longing. “I wish you would have told me, before I invested so much of myself. But then again, I should have realized, that when something seems too good to be true, Miya, it usually is.”

He gets up slowly and reaches to you, with shivering fingers, but you step back and his fingers clench into a loose fist, eyes showing emotions that have never graced his face before. Atsumu promised, it’s probably not too late yet. You can still convince them. But behind your stained face, was resignation. You were no longer his. He had lost you, the ground underneath him crumbling away, the thread that you had so carefully woven the only thing connecting the both of you.

A thread, that could not bear anymore weight. Before he could say anything to bring back what you had before, you spoke. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry I wasn’t everything you wanted. But I’m done. My heart is tired of being played with.” You glanced at him with determination clear in your eyes.

“N-no, no please y/n. Let me explain.”

“I think, I think this is goodbye Miya Osamu. I hope you find someone who made the moon seem as beautiful to you, as you did for me.” With that, you gave him a forlorn smile, shutting off the door that connected you to him, snapping any threads surrounding you. Not another word was exchanged ever.

And yet, at that moment, you were tied, sitting on either of your mahogany bedroom door, weeping for someone you would never have.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #osamu angst #osamu x you #haikyuu osamu #osamu miya #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu angst #haikyuu miya osamu #haikyuu miya #haikyuu!!#haikyuu

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hexisqueer · 3 years

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132 followers and still no prompts

(i still love yall with all my soul tho, y'all just made my whole month 1769 times better 💟)

thank you for being here ('-'*)♪

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hexisqueer · 3 years

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saudade

a/n: WELL. im back! *confetti pops out*. i mean, kinda hehe, apologies im absolutely swamped with school and my degrading mental health :). n e way, this is LONG, because i’ve missed writing a lot <3 wrote this for @sykuui, this is long overdue babe tw: verbal and (probably) physical abuse, kuroo just being a gigantic dick, dont come after me pls ily, cheating, swearing word count: 2K (word vomit ;-;) pairing: kuroo x gn!reader genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

What keeps you up at night?

Gentle snores, his soft hair brushing your arm, muffled breaths reminding you that the world knew not of the Kuroo that slept by you at night, unburdened by the worldly dilemmas. For just a few hours every night, he was yours, through and through, in your arms while the clouds drifted across the jet black sky with no destination, and the moment seemed to freeze.

Love, love for Tetsuro, is what kept you up, and it would never have once crossed your naïve mind that love is what would break you, keeping you up, not for the love you felt, but the love that was torn from you.

Simple signs would not tell you what happened, it came crashing down on you all too quick, for he was proficient at hiding it, behind his caring smiles and affectionate touches. His love wasn’t as pure as yours, he did not yearn for you as you did for him, and it showed, eventually enough. The cracks in the relationship built up gradually, slowly but prominently, too wide for either to bandage up alone, and that is how you found yourselves; alone.

He did try to provide for the both of you as best he could, being the sole income earner, and it didn’t always end well when you expressed that maybe he was too occupied by his office for your liking, unable to care for you as he once did throughout high school, when he was attentive to you no matter when you beckoned.

“Tetsuro, welcome home!” You’ve had a long day and not nearly enough time with your husband, deprived of his peppering kisses and gentle strokes of your hair. You get neither, receiving just a simple grunt, and it is clear he has had a grueling time as well. “Dinner is ready when you want it.” He nods slightly, not making eye contact with you yet, his hair appearing even less groomed than usual. You stand on your tip toes to kiss his forehead, but he shoves you away, harder than playful, glaring at you.

Maybe it’s just weariness, but he makes no attempt to apologize. You blink back the sting of tears, walking towards the kitchen to serve the food that you had learnt to make for him. He’s just tired. I’m sure he didn’t mean to push me away. That was the first tear, in the loosely woven fabric that was your relationship, that began as high school sweethearts but was now, you realized only later, becoming too stifling for Tetsuro.

The steam rose of the bowl of rice and curry, curling around your jawline as you carried it to the tall figure seated at the table, with his head in his palms. “Do you want to talk now, baby?” Your question is only answered with another sound of fatigue. You seat yourself beside him, curling your arms around his bicep, watching him lift the spoon to his mouth, trying to make him comfortable. You wanted to show him that you’d be there when he wanted to share his exhaustion with you, never occurring to you that maybe, it was exhaustion of you that plagued Tetsuro’s mind.

“Y/n, can you please be quiet for once?” It was barely a whisper; you weren’t sure if you heard him right.

“Huh?”

“Just shut up for once, god.” The tears stung again. What was with him today? He seemed genuinely mad, but you didn’t know what you had done to make him behave like this.

Little did you know, it wasn’t actually you, but the idea of you. Kuroo had grown to be frustrated with his daily routine, tired that every day was the same, that his life had lost that spark it had when he peaked in high school, your presence monotonous and the marriage empty. He didn’t want it.

“Tetsuro, why would you-?” His hand swiped out, knocking the bowl off the table, a gasp erupting from your mouth. In that moment, all you can think about is to get as far away from him as possible. There is an uncharacteristic bitterness in his eyes, directed towards you as you lie in his line of vision. You flinch as he raises his hand to run fingers through his hair. Without a second thought, he spits his frustration out at you.

“Y/n, I’ve had a long fucking day, and I don’t need you to make it even worse with your constant questioning.” The chair slides back with a scrape, not unlike the scrape of his words against your soul. There is, and always has been, an insecurity bubbling away in you that maybe you aren’t good enough for Tetsuro, maybe he deserves better, maybe you are too overwhelming for the calm male that now stands enraged in front of you.

“You need to learn to shut the fuck up sometimes, because no one wants to listen to your endless whining. I get it, you need constant reassurance that you’re the perfect partner, but I couldn’t be fucking bothered. And you sure aren’t perfect with how clingy you’re being right now. So shut up, and leave me alone.”

Kuroo knocks over a jug of water on his way out, slamming the door over the sound of it shattering as your sobs rack through your body, dry but hard enough to hurt.

Being furious wasn’t a thought that occurred to you, and whether this was his fault made no difference, because it was yourself you blamed when you found him the next day, with his secretary, the bento lunch you had packed him, to resolve the night’s arguments, spilled over the wooden floor, much like the shattered pieces of your heart.

What broke you, was that there was no chase; Tetsuro didn’t come after you, didn’t try to convince you to stay, didn’t try to explain that this was a mistake, didn’t even try to salvage a nine-year long relationship that he tossed out the window of his high-rise office building, not a single second glance back at the spouse that had supported him through his struggles, through thick and through thin, comforting him when things got tough, consoling him as he lost matches, lost money, lost old friends.

Gratitude wasn’t something he had ever considered. You were always there after all, there to ensure that he was happy, that he was content with his unchanging life, the responsibility of being his unpredictable little spark of excitement weighing down on you.

You were gone that night, with hurriedly packed bags, worn out spirit and tears streaming down your face, sparkling as they dripping onto the marbled floor, sparkling like the diamond of your wedding ring that you left behind on the counter top, with one last admiring glance. It was worth a lot, but not enough for what you were being put through. And recognition of that fact is what liberated you, to start your own life, without a Kuroo Tetsuro.

What keeps you up at night?

Y/n. Bubbling laughter and affectionate aura. Everything that was gone, that now made Kuroo’s life… empty; as empty as he had left the relationship, as empty as the void that was once filled with y/n’s warm smiles, that he now attempted to fill with anyone who would throw themselves at him.

A different face to wake up to everyday, but none of them yours, the only one he longed to see, heart aching as though it might burst out of his chest to find its rightful place with you.

The day after you left, he had had no idea that his life would crumble without you, the backbone around which he organized his life, the foundation for his happiness. He knew it was unfair to put the expectation of his functioning on you, but he did it anyway, and without you, he couldn’t wrap his head around the concept that was independence.

“Tetsuro”, his seventh secretary in two months waltzed into the room, carrying a stack of files, discovering him with his head in his hands, glaring up at the one who dared use the name that you had so loving adorned upon him, the word only perfect on your tongue. “Do you want me to spend the night again? You seem tense.”

Kuroo growled, at the audacity they had, suggesting that they were even worth attempting to comfort him like you did. With a swipe of his hands, he knocked the files off the table, standing up to spit his frustrations out at the secretary.

But one glance at the look of apprehension on their face made him buckle, reminding him of the very last night he spent with you, broken jug, bowl of curried rice upside down on the floor. You; cowering from him, frightened of what he would do to you, flinching as he raised his hand.

Dry choking sobs left his mouth, you were afraid of him, the person you had loved more than life itself, given up everything to make happy, and he had never even uttered a word of gratefulness.

Realization engulfed him, leaving him on his knees. He hadn’t shown you how much he loved you, forgetting or simply just ignoring you.

No wonder you were gone, because what was there to stay for, in the dead-end life that you lived, without a loving husband or self-contentment? What had he done? Why had you stayed for so long?

Why had you stayed up all those nights for him?

Tetsuro never could forget about you, the absence of you gnawing away at him, slowly taking over his life. The final straw that broke him irreparably was you, at the national volleyball match that you attended, not for him, but as a sports reporter, beaming in pride in your professional outfit.

Your independence is what did it, because if you could live without him, it mean you would never return. And why should you, after everything he had done, why should you when you had finally found yourself, why should you when there was nothing to return to?

His eyes followed you around, trying to take in as much of you as he could. Interviewing people, smiling at them, the warm smile that was once only for him. Suddenly, your eyes locked, and he froze, standing close enough to see the hurt swim in yours as you lay them upon him, and the moment was over just as quickly as it began.

“Hajime!” What? Why were you yelling out his name, jumping into his arms, fondly glancing up at him with that adoring look, completely forgetting about the one man that had been missing you for so long? Why weren’t you running back to him instantly? Did you not love him?

But Kuroo knew the truth.

You did love him, just, not anymore. He had lost you the second he took you for granted. And he wanted to yell that he would never do it again, come back to him, please just stay with him, he will always love you.

He couldn’t. The beam reaching from end to end of your glowing face, words bubbling over as Iwaizumi held you close, it was too bright to interrupt. The sparkle in your eyes not unlike the diamond that sparkled on your wedding ring, the one he still kept in his pocket, in hope that you would one day, return to him, forgive him, love him again. But-

Kuroo knew that he didn’t keep you up at night anymore.

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hexisqueer · 3 years

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How about part 2 of "insignificant"? Kinda curious and sorry to bother you

dont be sorry i love answering asks, but i uh, dont think i will be writing a second part, probably because

1. it'd have to be a redemption arc thing, in which yall will probably expect fluff and i dont have either skill nor the practice to write that

2. i like the way the one shot ended👉👈,, the cliffhanger leaves the ending open, so you dont have to follow a single story

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hexisqueer · 3 years

Text

insignificant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer was that you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#haikyuu angst #atsumu miya angst #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #msby atsumu #hq atsumu #hq angst #atsumu #miya #jfc i dont go easy on the tags do i #bone apple tea hoes

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hexisqueer · 3 years

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Clandestine

a/n: yay first prompt themk,, hopefully this doesnt disappoint <33 also YALL 62 followers??? CRAZY. yall are too nice ilysm,,, literally my previous post blew the f//k up, this is a dream ✨ now go send me more prompts pairing: ennotana (ennoshita x tanaka) genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person) ll fluff (not used to it so judge lightly aha)

Maybe it wasn't as meant to be as he'd believed. The fact that they had been friends since childhood shouldn't have lead him to believe any different. It had always been Ennoshita alone, falling in love, bruising himself, tripping, heart aching for the shaved-headed boy. And he always knew that it might end, because he was no 'Kiyoko-san'. He wasn't even nearly as pretty, and the insecurities flooded through him everytime he saw the two laughing together, Tanaka's eyes filled with love; love that was not for him, not for him because he never really wanted Ennoshita.

Was it because he was ashamed? Ashamed that he didn't fit into the society's heterosexual norms, ashamed that he had to date Ennoshita who was nowhere close to Kiyoko, ashamed that he had to settle with his childhood best friend? It didn't seem like anything but settling, not with just fleeting stolen kisses and clandestine looks, not when he had, Ennoshita just realized as he reminisced, never actually told him he cared for him too.

Pity. Is that what it was? The look in Tanaka's eyes when he glanced at Ennoshita. Pity and regret. He didn't hold any affection but rather let this happen because he didn't want to lose his friend. 'Hey, why not humour him, he's fallen for me anyway.' Unrequited though it was, Ennoshita loathed himself for letting it go on, merely for the fact that Tanaka had said yes, to save himself the embarrassment of being the rejected one, the one who still pined long after the ordeal was over, the chapter closed.

"Hey, we need to talk." The words left his mouth, not his anymore, every syllable painful. He hated himself for still gasping silently at how beautiful Tanaka looked, amidst the river side trees, and he knew he should have chosen a better spot to do this. He hated himself for not being able to get the rest of his monologue out of his mouth, distracted by the questioning stare that Tanaka turned upon him, pure and unknowing. He hated himself for still being infatuated with him, even when he knew that there was no affection being requited, the deep aching within his soul.

And there he broke down.

By the way-side path of the river. Surrounded by the smell of the yet unbloomed sakura trees. Not hidden from the wandering eyes of passing strangers. The longing created deep ridges within himself, his eyes dry, but body racked with trembles and clandestine sobs. He couldn't stop anymore, the emotions too much, and all he wanted was to scream himself hoarse so his body could attempt to understand the pain that flooded his mind. His breaths were gasps, short bursts of air, just to keep him alive. His throat felt swollen, and he choked on it, coughing violently.

Riddled by all this, two smooth hands cupped his face, tilting his chin up to focus his attention towards the usually energetic male, his eyes soft, crinkled in the corners. "Chika." That stunned the latter. Ryu had never called him by his given name. He had never looked at him like this, tender and affectionate. He had never brushed Chikara's hair back from his face with slightly hesitant hands, smiling down at him and whispering, "I am here for you."

That's what the tears came. Tears that glistened in his eyes, trickling down his face, soaking the front of Ryu's shirt. Words left unspoken but, actions replaced them perfectly. And there, they sat, entangled with themselves, physically and emotionally, their relationship new as the yet to blossom buds of the sakura trees they were under. Tanaka's strong arms held Chikara, comforting him, protecting him from the wandering gazes of the people that wondered what could have brought together the two together like this, clinging onto each other as they would have to life on their dying breaths.

But that was not a question either could have answered. For they were content there, embraced in the other's arms, Ennoshita's face buried in Tanaka's collar, the latter supporting the former with all his strength. He knew he was the reason for this, but he would do everything to make it right, because in that moment, this side of Ennoshita, was only his. And he didn't want anyone else to have this honour, no matter how selfish that would make him.

To the world, Ennoshita would always be a strong captain figure. But Ryu knew, the fragility, the affection when they were together, the longing when they were apart, the no longer clandestine stares. He was his, and they were each others. And that was all that mattered.

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hexisqueer · 3 years

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guess who it is - @inerizaki

look yall its a whore in my inbox,,,🙄

sjsjfh issa joke pls donut attack, this babe is my best friend, go show her some love, she wants to join the community and write smut <333

give us more content hoe i need those chaotic drafts

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hexisqueer · 3 years

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her.

a/n: im back with some angst heh,, wrote this during math so we’ll see how good yall think it is (._.). implied cheating so watch for that if you dont want it,,, skskjd also themk for 34 followers, i know it isnt much, but to think more than 10 people like my writing seems like a dream pls,, yall are amazing pairing: kageyama x reader genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

And maybe it was your fault. You’d never seen her, you didn’t know her, but you knew she was there. There behind his thoughtful gazes, and behind his unprompted smiles, behind the involuntary actions. Your fault, for not being what he wanted. Your fault, for trying to keep him to yourself. And no matter how much you tried, you wouldn’t be her.

What hurt was he thought he could keep this from you, his best friend from middle school, his partner of four years. But you knew him like another part of yourself. You were always there for him, and him you; through thick and thin, two halves of a whole. He didn’t tell you, to spare your feelings, to keep his affairs a secret, to pretend everything was fine; but it wasn’t, it wasn’t. The relationship came crumbling down the minute he stepped foot into the house smelling of daisies under a new moon.

It was always floral. Daises, chrysanthemums, jasmine. Is that what he wanted? A woman who actually tried to dress up for him, who didn’t also view him as a best friend, who thought of him as a man instead of ‘Tobio’? Floral perfume and bright lipsticks? He claimed he didn’t want you to, but you knew he did, you saw it behind his longing stares and his subtle words. But that wasn’t you. You – in baggy shirts and old jeans, with paint flecks adorning your face, waiting for him in a messily put up bun and a pork ramen bowl to share.

Every day, his words of love floated to you, empty behind his blue eyes, said out of duty, not out of affection. Every night, his cheek lay cold against yours, tears clouding your vision while he slept peacefully, and you wipe off the smudge of mauve lipstick that he forgot to hide, cradling his face within your fingers.

The door cracked open, letting in a cold breeze that ran down your spine in a shiver. You lift your head from your hands, eyes swollen, hair astray. Kageyama freezes in his tracks, putting down the blue paper bag on the table near the door. Was that a gift, for her? You forget the last time her bought you a surprise. “What are you doing here, y/n?”

Even being faced by his concerned tone and worried expression, yet you see it, the blissful high only she gave him, the thrill of secrecy far too much for him to resist. That must be why. Or maybe… “Am I not enough?” The guilt visibly seeps in, his stuttering unable to hide the wild look in his eyes.

“Y/n, come-.” You quickly shift backward as he reaches for you, wrapping your arms around your knees, pining him down in his place with the betrayal leaking into your features. He knows. He knows you found him out, and he knows he might lose the love of his life. But was that really what you were anymore? “N- no, y-y/n, I didn’t mean for this to happen-.” Tears fill his eyes and a lick of anger flares up within you; how dare he be sad, when you were the one who was tossed away when you weren’t needed, when you were the one who hoped he would realize you were the only one for him.

“What to happen, Tobio? The cheating? Or the fact you thought you could keep it from me? You know, maybe once you could realize that I know you, more than you could ever know me. I know you like the back of my hand but… you just never cared.” The anger dies down, gradually, but the words keep flowing.

“You don’t know what I want, or who I am, not nearly as much as I do. All you think about is volleyball. It was like this back then, it’s like this now. It’s never ‘how was your day, y/n?’, but always ‘will you come to my match?’. Maybe one day, you could try doing something with me that I’m passionate about, something I chose to do in my life, something that I want. I know this is what you’ve dreamed of, but does that somehow make it okay, to never be there for me?”

“Y/n, I love you, she’s just… different from you. She-.”

“Works eight to eight and still has dinner ready for you? Waits patiently every night, day after day, week upon week, while you travel, for matches, for ‘business meetings’, for her? Sleeps in the same bed with the only person she’s ever loved, sobbing, knowing that she is not enough?”

The silence you receive is louder than the sound of your heart shattering. And Tobio doesn’t speak a word of reassurance, not a syllable of solace. “Y-y/n, I don’t know what you want me to say; I don’t want to lose you.”

You mouth dries up at that, words dissipating in your throat. Blinking back tears, you look up at the one man you’d truly trusted. Remorse lined his features and you were almost willing to forget any of this ever happened.

Almost.

“Kageyama, you lost me the day you chose her to fall asleep to, her company to enjoy, while I suffered in silence, wanting only for you to be happy. How else did you expect this to end? I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.” And through the sadness, you smiled. Smiling because maybe you could start over again. Try again to find passion and find life, unbounded by middle school romance. And maybe, just maybe, you could heal your heart enough to love another.

You’d forgive him, forgive him for being Kageyama Tobio. But maybe this time, you had to forget too.

#kageyama tobio angst #kageyama x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu kageyama #haikyuu kageyama tobio #hq kageyama #hq angst #kageyama x y/n #kageyama #kageyama tobio #yeah im back from the dead #send prompts pls #bone apple tea hoes

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hexisqueer · 3 years

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i read some of ur stuff and they're actually rly good! ur a pretty good writer and u write hella good angst jeez

aww thank you so much kind stranger, you just made my day🥰

also y'all pls send prompts (hopefully angst and I can try smut,,) my brain said: no thoughts™ but I want to write 🚪🚶‍♀️

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu prompts #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst prompts #haikyuu smut prompts

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hexisqueer · 3 years

Text

a better life

a/n: i changed up my style a bit and it’s my first post that exceeded 1k words yay, hopefully y’all still like it. also pls know that i love oikawa and i know that he’s been through a lot,, so don’t be mad if i potray him in a negative light,, (._.) pairing: iwaoi (iwaizumi x oikawa) genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

They say that everyone has only one true soulmate; true as the stars that flickered through the night sky and the clouds that drifted across the blue expanse. They say that soulmates click at once, and never let go, for within themselves, they knew they were destined. Then why didn’t he stay? Was his beloved ‘Iwa-chan’ not enough?

Hajime knew that the summer skies and exotic difference of Argentina let Oikawa forget his past; tainted with failures, crushed hopes and dead relationships – at least that’s what Oikawa believed. But now he was growing, developing, changing – into a new person – and probably spending his days with people he actually liked.

Hajime didn’t want to pick him up at the airport, Mattsun and Makki’s pleas falling on deaf ears. Not when he knew that he’d break down the second he saw Oikawa’s chocolate hair or obnoxious strut again. Not when they’d lost contact because Oikawa wanted to live, in his words, a ‘better life’. Not when Oikawa had rolled his suitcase out the front door, over a path of shards of Iwaizumi’s broken heart, not a single glance back, slamming it shut and creating an unbreakable wall.

The Jackals must have sensed their manager’s inner conflict because they steered clear – letting him have a quiet practice for once. Iwa-chan; that’s all he had heard his whole life and one day, it was just… gone. Iwa-chan; annoyed or bubbly, the words tumbled out of the brown-eyed boy’s mouth unfailingly. Iwa-chan; he breathed it out as he broke the kiss – and Hajime’s heart – abandoning the person who had always loved and supported him no matter what, leaving him in the doorway as he walked away.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice still echoed in his ears apparently, clear as day, bringing back a flood of memories. His train of thoughts derailed presently, having encountered a volleyball aimed at the base of his skull.

“Iwa-chan.” No, no, no. He couldn’t do this. Not in front of his team. “Did you miss me?” Everyday. Even when he didn’t want to, even when it hurt his soul to think about him anymore. Yet, he turned to face the man who had made his life unbearably torturous.

“Absolutely not, Shittykawa. What do you want?” He wasn’t the same person. His skin was tanner and his expression… freer. Like Iwaizumi had been holding him back, confining him to a small prefecture, with his small dreams, with his love for someone he had always known. Far too traditional for someone like Oikawa Tooru.

“You didn’t come pick me up at the airport.” The words had a whiny undertone, reminding Hajime of the time when he actually found it adorable that Oikawa depended on him. But not anymore, now he was living a ‘better life’. His blood began to boil. He had no responsibility towards Oikawa, he had a life without him, even if it didn’t include the warmth or the sandy beaches of Argentina that he craved.

“Oh, did you… need me to? And where were you when I needed you?” Tooru’s face morphed as he realized that this wasn’t going to be a friendly visit to his childhood ‘best friend’. No, it wouldn’t; not after the unanswered questions, the broken promises, the severed relationship.

“Iwa-chan, I’m sorry.” Nothing else. He didn’t think about what would happen to Hajime, how it would affect him. He was sorry.

“S-sorry? Sorry?” A bitter scoff left Iwaizumi’s mouth. “What for? You’re better now, aren’t you? Liberated. Happy. Wouldn’t want to ‘weigh you down with expectations’. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Yes, I did. I needed to get out of the repetitive, unending, painful cycle that was my life. I’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there.” The patience was wearing thin on either side, both in the right… and in the wrong. “Every second of every day. Week after week. Month upon month. Since we were children. I stayed with you, for you. Because I loved you.” Tears formed, because no matter how strong he portrayed himself to be, he strong he really was, seeing Oikawa Tooru’s face brought back every single memory featuring the one who got away.

“What do you want me to say? That I loved you too?”

“You never loved me.” A scoff again. “You never loved anything but recognition. Recognition from your fangirls. Recognition from other teams. Recognition from your own team. Recognition from Ushijima. Recognition from the world.”

“And what about it? I wanted to do good in my life. I wanted to be something. Not like you, who wanted a hometown love story. I walked out of that house because I wanted to achieve something significant for myself. Not everything I did for you.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help the tear that streamed down his cheek. “But did you ever do anything for me?” The shock was evident on Oikawa’s face, he had never once seen Hajime break down, especially not in public. He was always aloof from his feelings, while Tooru had been the more emotional one in the relationship. And maybe that’s what finally broke Hajime.

“Iwa-chan-.”

“You meant too much to me. And when you left, it was like – is like – I have nothing to live for anymore. Every morning my bed feels empty, every night my heart feels empty. I thought we were meant for each other, I felt it, but maybe you knew better. I know you deserve better.”

Oikawa choked on his words, barely getting them out. “You meant the world to me, Iwa-chan.” The latter fell to his knees, arms around himself, sobbing harder than he ever had. His chest felt ripped apart, as if he was feeling pain in its pure form.

“Tooru, we can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies. So just… go. Experience a better life. A thousand years might pass but I won’t forget you, because all I ever truly felt, was yours.”

Hajime stood, dusting himself off, walking away from pain; starting a new chapter of his life. A life without Oikawa Tooru. A life where he would be happy.

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hexisqueer · 4 years

Text

I’ll Wait For You

a/n: implied blood if y'all don't want that, and my first attempt at a character ship, so go easy aha,, and <3 for new followers, tysm🥺 pairing: daisuga (daichi x suga) genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

Cigarettes. Cigarettes and expensive cologne. That was the scent that stayed with Daichi after every meeting. He didn’t know what kept drawing him back to Sugawara Koushi’s elegantly decorated office – his angelic disguise or the fact that he knew the devil that lurked within the gang leader’s carefully crafted exterior.

“Ah Detective Sawamura. Come back for the monthly checkup, have you? Well I can assure you there are no provably illegal activities occurring under this roof.” The silver haired man crossed one leg over the other, finger tips drumming softly against the heavy mahogany table.

“14 missing cases of citizens known to be working in your business corporation; along with two reportedly found dead – both of whom were agency employees prior to shifting occupations to work under your command.” A dangerous chuckle left the well-groomed man’s mouth. He picked at the tip of his dark gloves, slowly sliding them off, eyes never leaving Daichi.

The detective couldn’t help the chill that ran down his spine, watching the glint form in Koushi’s glittering orbs. “Well well, Sawamura. What did you think? That you’d send in your ‘highly trained’ spies to ‘infiltrate’ my organization and I’d let you? C’mon, I’m not that soft for you.”

Daichi’s eyes widened slightly and a spatter of blush swiftly engulfed his face, leaving Sugawara to watch in amusement. “I think we’re getting off track here, Sugawara-san. The Tokyo Police Department would like to propose a com-.” The infamous angelic smile took over the underground gang leader’s face; the one that made Daichi feel like a prey to a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing, comfortable but apprehensive.

“Daichi-san, Daichi-san, Daichi-san. Do you really think I’d let you in here to discuss ‘compromises’?” Sugawara lifted himself out of his chair with the daintiness that personified silk, walking over to seat himself at the edge of the table, right in front of the now slightly flustered detective. “Darling, we’re only here because I…” A light finger curled around Daichi’s chin, making him meet Koushi’s hungry gaze. “…want to see you.”

Their lips hovered inches apart, Sawamura yearning for him to move closer, the silver haired man completely aware of the effect he’d had on this officer of law. A muffled whimper escaped Daichi’s mouth when Sugawara let go, leaning back on his palms. “Not today, sweetheart. Patience.” Patience. So, he waited.

Gunshots. The smell of gunpowder and asphalt. The screech of tires on gravel as more backup arrived to support the sudden assault they had decided to launch. Footsteps loud against the rough floors, banging open door after door of the building. The officers exhaled sharply, attempting to gain the willpower and motivation to fight against one of the most vicious underground gangs in the whole country. Daichi had visited to negotiate deal after deal, but in vain, and the PD could only take so much rejection before they decided to move against the gang.

The gun lay numb in his hand, a full cartridge weighing him down as he attempted to fire alongside his colleagues. His finger slipped off the edge of the trigger, unable to bring himself to shoot at anyone, for he knew them, as people, as Suga’s companions, his colleagues. And the truth is that he was afraid – frightened of the appearance of a flash of silver hair, blood soaked and lifeless gray eyes.

“Sawamura, watch out!” The faint cocking of a gun echoed in his ears, a barrel in his peripheral vision, a figure raising its arm to fire at him. In that moment, his hand reacted as its own being, defending only the body it was attached to, not the soul, firing once.

The figure fell, a straight shot to the chest, arising from all of Daichi’s years of training and experience, the life seeping out of the gunmetal blue eyes, the familiar face. “Akaashi, no.” An audible broken sob reached Daichi’s ears, a known voice, crying out from the fall of his closest trustee. “Keiji please, wake up. Fight beside me now.”

“Suga…” The weapon left Sawamura’s grip, clattering onto the floor. Horror spread through his veins as he stepped forward, meeting Sugawara Koushi’s tear-filled orbs, emotions raging through them. The betrayal behind his eyes pierced through Daichi’s heart, all other noises fading away. Wanton mumbles for Akaashi’s still body tumbled out of Suga’s mouth while he attempted to stand and face the one person, he had trusted… and maybe even loved.

A single bullet. That’s all it took to bring down the leader of the largest gang in the country. Not even he was mortal, invulnerable, for he had just witnessed the death of his closest. He stumbled forward, right into Daichi’s arm, blood trickling from his mouth.

“No.” Because the detective didn’t want this to be reality. “Please.” Because he wanted to take back time, even just for a second, so it would have been him instead. “Suga.” Because he was the only man Daichi had ever truly learned to love.

And yet there they were, the officer repeatedly pressing his lips against those of the fallen leader, holding him tight, every other sound inaudible, tears streaming down his face. The angelic smirk graced Koushi’s face for the last time. “I’m so-.” The hoarse cough that left his throat cracked Daichi’s heart. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long, darling.” His lean fingers reached for the detective’s cheek, only to be held by Sawamura’s warm palm, tight against his face, wet with tears.

Daichi’s knees buckled. “Who will I pester with constant peace negotiations if you’re gone? I need you. Stay with me Suga. Please.” The silver-haired devil breathed a last sigh, letting out a vague mumble. His words broke Daichi’s heart, the tears drying up but the lump in his throat making him silent.

“I’ll wait for you, darling. Always.”

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