— evänesce, celovia . .

@celoviaeva on tumblr !

Oikawa has always been the star.

But he will never be the sun.

No matter how desperately he chased that title. No matter how many hours he spent training for it. Eventually, he knew someone blessed with what he called “natural talent” would surpass him.

You had seen it coming from the very beginning.

It was during the first summer of middle school when you confessed to Oikawa—your classmate—beneath a large sakura tree straight out of some cheesy romance manga.

And somehow, against all expectations, he accepted immediately.

No hesitation. No awkward silence.

Just a simple nod and an easy, “Okay.”

At first, you genuinely thought he was joking.

At first you thought it was just a bet.

Because who says yes that quickly?

Especially Oikawa Tooru.

The boy every girl whispered about in hallways.

The boy who shined too brightly for anyone to look at directly.

But somehow, he stayed.

He walked you home after practice with his jersey thrown over one shoulder. He complained dramatically whenever you stole his milk bread. He rested his head on your lap during weekends while ranting about Kageyama and Ushijima until his voice turned hoarse.

And slowly, terrifyingly slowly,

Oikawa became your home.

You learned the sides of him no one else noticed.

How he stared at the ceiling in silence after losing.

How his fingers trembled whenever he overworked himself too hard.

How his smile looked different when it was real.

You loved him through every ugly, exhausted, insecure part of himself.

But volleyball always came first.

You knew that too.

So when he stopped texting first…

When practices got longer…

When his responses became shorter…

You noticed.

Of course you did.

And one evening, beneath flickering streetlights after practice, Oikawa finally said the words you already expected.

“I think…”

He swallowed hard.

“…we should break up.”

The world didn’t stop dramatically like in movies.

No rain.

No crying.

No music swelling in the background.

Just silence.

Oikawa refused to look at you.

“It’s hard balancing everything right now,” he continued quietly. “Volleyball’s getting serious and I just—”

“You want to focus,” you finished softly.

His expression tightened immediately.Because you understood too quickly.

And somehow that hurt him more.

You smiled anyway. Small. Gentle. Painfully understanding.

“Okay.”

That was it.

No begging.

No fighting.

You simply let him go.

And for a moment, Oikawa wished you hadn’t. Because if you cried, maybe this would’ve been easier.

But you only stepped back and said:

“Do your best, Tooru.”

The next few weeks felt strange. Oikawa finally had what he wanted.

More time.

More practice.

More focus.

So why did everything feel so empty?

Why did he still glance toward your classroom after school?

Why did his hand instinctively reach for his phone after every match?

Why did victories suddenly feel quieter without you there to celebrate them?

“Dude,” Iwaizumi frowned one afternoon, “what’s wrong with you lately?”

“Nothing.”

Lie.

Because Oikawa kept seeing you everywhere.

In the hair tie around his wrist.

In the cafeteria drinks you used to buy him.

In the extra umbrella sitting in his locker because you always worried he’d forget his.

And the worst part?

You looked fine.

You still smiled at people. Still laughed with your friends.

Meanwhile, Oikawa felt like he was slowly caving in on himself.

Then came the match against Shiratorizawa.

Aoba Johsai lost.

Again.

The gym felt suffocating afterward.

Oikawa smiled through it, because that’s what stars do.

They shine.

Even while burning themselves apart.

But later that night, while everyone else had gone home, he sat alone in the empty gym with his head lowered and fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.

And for the first time in forever—

He broke.

Not because they lost.

But because the first person he wanted to see afterward wasn’t there anymore.

You used to stay after every game.

Win or lose.

You used to hand him water bottles while telling him he played well anyway. Used to scold him for blaming himself too much. Used to stand beside him when volleyball crushed him whole.

Now there was only silence.

And Oikawa finally understood something terrifying:

Volleyball was his entire world.

But somehow…

You had become the part that made that world worth surviving.

@celoviaeva on tumblr !

Megumi noticed it slowly.

At first, it was just small things.

The way Yuta lingered around you longer than usual after missions. The way his usually tired eyes softened whenever you spoke. The way he listened to you so carefully—as if every word mattered.

And worst of all?

Yuta smiled around you.

Not fully. Not brightly. But enough. Enough for Megumi to notice.

Enough for Megumi to hate it.

“Fushiguro-kun~ are you listening?”

Megumi blinked, realizing Gojo had been talking to him for the past thirty seconds.

“…Yeah.”

“You’re glaring holes into Okkotsu.”

Across the training field, you and Yuta stood side by side, talking quietly while sharing a drink from the vending machine. Yuta said something under his breath, and you burst into laughter.

Then—there it was again.

That tiny smile.

Megumi’s eye twitched.

“Scary,” Gojo sang beside him. “You look like a jealous boyfriend.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Mmhm.”

Megumi looked away with a click of his tongue.

Except… he was jealous.

Painfully so.

Because it wasn’t just Yuta.

You were different around him too.

You touched Yuta’s sleeve casually when talking. You waited for him after missions. You even texted him more often lately—something Nobara happily exposed after accidentally seeing your phone light up.

Megumi hated how much he noticed.And he hated even more that he had no right to.

The two of you weren’t dating…

Not officially.

Still, every time Yuta stood too close to you, Megumi felt something ugly twist in his chest.

Especially now, when he watched you gently fix Yuta’s collar while scolding him for forgetting his jacket again.

Megumi stood up immediately.

“I’m leaving.”

Gojo blinked. “Class is still going...!”

“I said I’m leaving.”

Meanwhile, you looked up at the sudden sound of footsteps approaching.

Megumi stopped in front of the two of you with his usual unreadable expression. But you knew him well enough to notice the irritation hiding underneath.

“Gumi?” you asked softly, using that nickname that also makes his heart beats faster.

“Training’s starting again,” he said flatly, eyes locked onto Yuta for a second too long.

Yuta tilted his head slightly.

“…It starts in twenty minutes.”

Silence.

Megumi’s eye twitched again.

You stared at him.

Yuta stared at him.

Gojo, somewhere in the distance, was absolutely losing his mind.

“…Oh,” Megumi muttered stiffly.

Then he turned around to leave.

Only for you to grab his sleeve before he could escape.

“Megumi,” you laughed quietly, “are you jealous?”

His entire body froze.

“No.”

“You literally came over here to interrupt us.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

Yuta watched the exchange silently before the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly.

That made Megumi feel even worse.

“Oh my god,” you gasped suddenly, realization hitting you. “Wait—Megumi, do you think Yuta likes me?”

Megumi avoided eye contact immediately.

“…Does he?”

You burst out laughing.

Actually laughing—so hard you had to hold onto his arm for balance.

Megumi frowned, now both annoyed and confused.

“What’s so funny?” Yuta finally sighed.“We’re cousins.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Megumi stopped breathing.

“…What?”

You wiped tears from your eyes while trying to calm down. “Yuta’s my cousin. I thought you knew.”

“I thought you knew,” Yuta added.

Megumi stared at both of you like his soul had just left his body. Gojo collapsed onto the ground somewhere behind him, laughing hysterically.

“You were jealous over FAMILY?!” Nobara yelled from across the yard.

Megumi looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. His face turned slightly pink—a rare, catastrophic sight.

“…I’m going home.”

Before he could walk away, you grabbed his sleeve again.

“But Gumi,” you teased softly, smiling up at him, “why were you jealous in the first place?”

He went completely still.

Yuta quietly walked away immediately. “Good luck, Fushiguro.”

Traitor.

Megumi looked down at you—at your amused smile, your warm eyes, your hand still holding onto him so naturally. And suddenly, he realized there was absolutely no escaping this conversation anymore.

“…You talk to him too much,” he muttered quietly. Your smile softened instantly. “Aw,” you teased. “So you were jealous.” Megumi clicked his tongue, looking away.

════════════════════════════

You weren’t necessarily a couple. But you wouldn’t say that you’re just friends either. Situationship was the best word to describe whatever this was.

Level 2 friendship, if you had to label it.

The rain hit the school gates like someone had poured the entire ocean over the city. Students were running, screaming, laughing—everyone trying to get home without drowning.

Except Kageyama.

He stood beside you, completely frozen, staring at your umbrella like it was some kind of divine miracle.

“You… uh..” He cleared his throat, eyes awkwardly darting away. “You’re going my way, right?”

You raised your umbrella a little. “Yeah?”

He swallowed—hard. “Can I… go with you?”

It was cute, the way he said it like he was asking for permission to breathe.

“Sure,” you said, trying not to smile too obviously. “Come closer. You’re getting soaked.”

He obeyed immediately, too quickly—almost bumping shoulders with you. He stiffened up the moment your arms brushed.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “Relax, Kageyama. It’s just rain.”

But his ears had already turned bright red.

You walked together in silence, the umbrella barely big enough for two. Every time you took a step closer to avoid the wind, he held his breath like physical contact might actually kill him.

By the time you reached your house, the rain hadn’t calmed at all—it got worse.

“This is me,” you said. “Do you want to wait inside until it stops?”

His head snapped up. “I-I don’t want to bother you—”

But before he could finish his sentence, you cut him off. “You won’t!! Come on. You’re literally dripping.”

He hesitated for a second too long… then nodded.

Inside, you handed him a towel. He took it like you had just given him a priceless artifact.

“Thanks,” he murmured, drying his hair in small, embarrassed movements.

You watched him—how serious he looked about something so simple, how careful he was not to make a mess.

He glanced up, catching you staring.

“What?” he asked quietly.

“You’re cute.”

He froze. Absolutely froze.

The towel slipped from his hand.

“I-I-uh-” he stuttered, entire face red. “Don’t… say things like that so suddenly.”

You couldn’t help laughing at the tremble in his voice as you moved in. “Why not, hmm?”

“Because…” he whispered, looking everywhere but at you, “because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

You stepped even closer. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Kageyama’s breath hitched.

A second passed. Two.

Then he gently tugged on your sleeve, eyes shy but honest.

“Can I… stay a bit longer? Until the rain stops?” he asked.

But his voice—quiet, shaky, full of something he couldn’t name—told you the truth :

════════════════════════════

The Kanto region was never unfamiliar with Tokyo Manji gang—mostly recognized as Toman. Almost everyone knew about their daily hangouts and rides with their bikes. That includes their Fist Divison Captain,

Baji Keisuke

He’d always been the backbone of the gang, the one holding everyone together—and he tried to keep doing that, even on the day he turned his back and walked toward Valhalla.

Everyone remembered that day—Chifuyu, his close friend, on the ground getting beaten up by Baji to prove his so called “loyalty” and “enthusiasm” towards Valhalla. Everyone saw him as this cold blooded traitor who won’t hesitate to leave his friends once they fall apart.

But beyond that tough and unbreakable facade, someone manager to see the real him. It’s none other then;

You

His beloved girlfriend.

Of course it didn’t took you a short amount of time to uncover his true colors. It took you years to recognize his deep flaws and even the perfection he concealed. And as you both uncovered each other’s imperfections and imperfections, you both fell deeply in love with each other’s looks, smiles, laughters, presence… moreover, each other’s everything.

He kept insisting to himself that this relationship was only meant to deepen your friendship, yet he still found himself sharing your joy, and feeling your sadness,even your anger—as if it were his own.

And when you fell sick for the first time since you to started dating, his mind went explosive. Everyday after school he never missed the chance to visit you and sometimes even staying at your place overnight. He said he was bored out of his mind, but you knew that deep down he really is concerned about you.

“Baji? Babe? Kei…? You look so tired…. Go home already. I’ll be fine.”

But every time you tried to convince him, he always lets out his annoying yet sooting laugh.

“Hey! My girlfriend is trying to kick me out in the middle of the night! Geez! Tough love!”

And when he said those kinds of things, you knew that he is not leaving anytime soon.

He tried to act unfazed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed like he wasn’t secretly counting how warm your forehead felt or how long it had been since you last drank water. But even without looking at him directly, you could sense how tense he was. His leg bounced nonstop, his eyes flicking toward you every few seconds as if checking whether you were still breathing.

“Quit starin’,” you mumbled, voice weak.

“I’m not,” he scoffed immediately… even though he absolutely was.

Baji had never been the type to fuss over someone—not verbally, at least. He didn’t know how to. Concern, in his mind, was something you did, not something you talked about. But now that you were sick, every tiny thing seemed to throw him off balance.

When you shifted under the blanket, he jolted.

When you coughed, he sat up straight like he was about to fight your illness with his bare hands.

And when your breathing slowed as you tried to sleep, he hovered so close it was almost comical.

He was a mess—a stiff, awkward, worried mess.

And he hated how obvious it was.

“Oi, don’t go passing out on me like that,” he muttered, adjusting the blanket around you for the third time that hour. “At least… say something if you feel weird.”

You cracked an eye open. “I’m just sleeping, Kei.”

“Yeah, well… don’t sleep too hard,” he shot back, face turning red as soon as he heard himself.

Then, slowly, and painfully awkwardly, he reached out. His fingers brushed your cheek, testing your temperature like he wasn’t terrified of messing up.

“You’re still warm…” he muttered. “Just sleep. I’ll be right here.”

“But I feel bad making you stay-”

“You think I care?” he cut in instantly. “I’m staying. End of story.”

And that was that.

Baji Keisuke, Tokyo’s terrifying delinquent, sat beside your bed like a stone statue—stiff, anxious, loyal to the bone.

Even when your breathing evened out and you slipped into sleep, he didn’t move.

He just watched over you, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, pretending he wasn’t worried at all… even though every part of him screamed the opposite.

Because for you, he’d always stay—no matter how scared he was of showing it.

Baji stayed by your side the entire night, pretending he wasn’t worried even though every little movement you made had him jolting. He paced, hovered, adjusted your blanket way too often, and acted like he wasn’t checking your temperature every ten minutes.

But eventually, exhaustion won.

Somewhere around dawn, he slumped forward in the chair beside your bed and knocked out completely.

When you woke up the next morning, head heavy but a bit better, you felt something warm against your arm. You turned—and nearly laughed out loud.

Baji Keisuke, Toman’s terrifying first division captain, was fast asleep with his head resting on your mattress, hair messy, mouth slightly open. His hand was still loosely holding onto the blanket he’d pulled up for you hours ago.

“Kei…” you whispered, brushing his hair back.

He shifted in his sleep, muttering something that sounded like your name and a soft “don’t go.” Your heart melted instantly.

But then he jerked awake—eyes wide, posture snapping straight like he’d been caught doing something illegal.

“YOU’RE UP?! Why didn’t you say anything?! I wasn’t sleeping!!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You were drooling.”

“I WAS NOT- Hey…! Don’t say weird stuff when you’re sick!”

His ears burned bright red.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and the sound made him finally relax.

“…You’re laughing,” he muttered. “Good. Means you’re better.”

Trying to hide his relief, he cleared his throat and sat back down.

“Eat something. Then your medicine. And I’m skipping school today, so don’t argue.”

“Keisuke, you can’t just-”

“Too late,” he smirked. “I’m staying.”

And with that, he reached over once more, checking your forehead—still awkward, still stiff, but so impossibly gentle it made your chest warm.

════════════════════════════

Taiju Shiba, a name not foreign within the areas of Shibuya. The leader of the gang Black Dragons is known to be an aggressive person. Even glancing at him could be seen as a challenge—one that he would definitely take, with the opponent going home beaten up to a pulp.

But who would’ve thought that the almighty king would fall helplessly in love with a girl she met in church during one of his prayers;

You

One glance at you helping a lost child find his mother made his heart drop into an endless pit of longing. The way you talk to and comfort that kid urges the little boy inside him to claim you, make him feel warm—but that will be a story for another time.

Upon waking up from his deep slumber, Taiju found himself sweating like crazy, his surroundings feeling hotter than any sauna he tried. His throat feeling dry and prickly and when he coughed, even the dessert seemed much more hydrated. Something he had been feeling for the past three days.

Great. He’s still sick.

Just as he was about to get up despite his pounding head, his phone ring. Hearing his phone ringing a soft smile crept up his face without him even realizing it. Hearing knew who the caller is. Of course he does. Because he always muted every single contacts in phone… everyone except,

“Baby…? It’s already eight. I tried calling you at six because I thought you’d be up, but you didn’t answer. Are you feeling okay?”

There it is, your sweet voice entering his ears and made its way to his heart again. With a whiny tone despite his gruff voice he replied,

“Come over, doll… I am sick.”

Without asking for any more questions, you hummed and ended the call. Taiju couldn’t help but chuckled at your immediate response, imagining your adorable concerned face tending him.

Without having to wait longer, you finally arrived at his small apartment and entered with a spare key he gave. Upon entering the room however, you noticed the slightly mess on the living room—cups of instant noddles left behind, pillows scattered.

It wasn’t necessarily a shipwreck. But knowing that Taiju is a clean freak and couldn’t stand a single dust on his step, you just know that he is indeed sick.

”Baby?”

You crept into his room slowly to find him staring at the door already, as if he is expecting you to come in that very second.

“Come, doll.”

He groaned. You settled your bag down on his table before approaching him on the bed. As soon you’re in his reach, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his arms, his face finding its way to your neck as he inhaled the scent he’s been craving for since earlier and his strong arms wrapped around your waist—holding you as if you’d disappear if he lets go.

You turned around to face him before your hand reached out to his hair and caressed it, earning a purr like sound from him, which you definitely questioned,

“Was that a purr?”

Taiju’s arms on your waist tightened, his face buried deeper into your skin.

“I just love you so much, doll. My sweetheart… my honey… my love… my world… mine…”

He planted soft kisses on your neck to emphasize his words.

“Taiju… that tickles.”

You giggled as he kept on planting kisses all over your neck. Despite your efforts of pushing him away, his grip remained tight. After all, being sick does not weaken him—especially when he is holding you like this.

“Come on big guy… I’ll make you something for breakfast…” You tried to push him sway again. “You’re not trying to leave me, are you?” He whined like a little baby.

“No I’m not…” No matter how much you tried to convince him, he just won’t let go. “Sweetie… stay…” He huffed, his voice getting lower. “Stay… don’t leave…”

When he finally opened his eyes, you manage to see the desperation in it, explicitly displayed in his half lidded eyes staring into your doe once.

Taiju himself couldn’t ignore the flutter in his stomach when he saw your adorable expression. He couldn’t contain himself, and before you knew it, you felt your lips attached to his in a passionate kiss.

It took him a little bit more extra power to get on top of you and pin you down on his bed without breaking the kiss as your tongues intertwined and played with each other’s. Taiju pulled away after a while, gasping for air.

“Stay with me, sweetie…. Please don’t make me let you go… I need you here.”