the beast (smau) has been released.. (from my drafts) sorry for letting you rot in here since april akaashi ✌️

© akaashiit

taglist 01 ( to be added OR removed, fill out the tag form )

another thing kita doesn't do is 'the down low'. to him, if a thing exists, it should be acknowledged.

you've already had to stop him from carrying your heavy bags three times this week, giving him a frantic, wide eyed glare until he slowly let go and walked away with a slightly puzzled frown.

today, you're standing at the long folding tables in the back of what you'd call the dining room, helping the other managers of various teams chop vegetables for dinner, and you can clearly see him through the window. 

kita's out by the gravel path, systematically lining up everyone's shoes by size and team.

"the inarizaki captain is kind of intense, isn't he?" yachi says softly, dropping a handful of grated carrots into a massive metal pot next to you. she follows your eyes to where they're glancing out the window, shivering a little. "every time i walk past him, i feel like i'm about to get graded on my posture. he doesn't even.. yell, he just kinda.. looks at people. it's like, being judged by a very polite spirit."

you keep your head down, focusing entirely on the onion you are dicing so she doesn't see your eyes darting toward him again. "well, someone has to keep their team from burning the building down. he's just being thorough. that's how he is."

"no, it's more than that," tsukishima says, suddenly appearing behind the table to grab a stack of water pitchers. 

he leans against the huge fridge, looking down at you with that obnoxious, half lidded stare that you've learned means he's figured something out and is going to torture you with it. "he's been thorough about our bench specifically. i. noticed he spent ten minutes this morning, fixing the loose hinge on our equipment trunk."

"he was just being hel‐"

"and yesterday, he spent his break neatly folding the karasuno bibs that tanaka left in a pile. it's almost like he has a personal investment in making sure our team runs smoothly.." he sidles a glance at you, lips quirking into a smirk. "or.. maybe just our manager."

your hand slips slightly on the knife, and you have to take a slow breath to keep from turning pink. "he just likes order."

tsukishima lets out a short laugh, apparently satisfied by your reaction, and strolls out of the kitchen. 

but not before muttering roguishly, "you seem to know him a great deal."

inhaling deeply, you try to shake it off. he knows nothing, he's just trying to get a rise out of you, you tell yourself, but..

"hey," yachi smiles at you. "ignore him, he's nothing but a pain in the butt sometimes." she scrunches her nose up in an endearing way before nudging your side. 

then her eyes widen with horror. "oh, i shouldn't have done that! you're older than me- my senpai! we're not close enough to- to nudge- i'm so sorry- i didn't even- we're not friends.. no! that came out wrong- i–"

you burst out laughing, setting your knife down. this shuts up the rambling girl, who has a small hand clamped over her mouth, a stray carrot danging from in between her middle and ring finger.

"we're friends, yachi. you don't have to panic, you could run me over and it'd be fine." you pause. "okay, maybe not to that extent, but you know what i mean." you nudge her back to show it's okay.

yachi slowly lowers her hand. then she beams at you.

ten minutes later, after your lovely conversation with yachi, the room fills up with a wave of hungry hungry hippos high school boys. 

you're standing by the rice cookers, handing out bowls to the massive forming line, when kita shinsuke, handsome kita shinsuke, your boyfriend kita shinsuke, in all his glory, walks in. 

he's already freshly showered, unlike most likely many of the other boys, his white and black hair damp and perfectly combed, wearing his inarizaki track pants and a plain white t-shirt. 

kita doesn't join the loud, chaotic swarm around the miya twins, though. he walks straight up to the end of the line, waiting his turn patiently.

when he gets to you, you try to keep your expression completely blank as you scoop a portion of rice into a bowl and hand it to him. "here you go, kita-san."

but kita doesn't take the bowl immediately. instead, he stares down at your hands, eyes narrowing as he notices the tiny bandaid wrapped around your thumb – the result of a situation with a dull peeler an hour ago.

shit. you know what’s about to happen. you know him far too well.

without a word, he reaches out, takes hold of your wrist with his firm grip, and pulls your hand up to eye level inspect it.

and you seem to have the best luck in the world, because it's inarizaki and karasuno who are closest to you right now. tanaka, who's in the middle of shoving three pieces of chicken into his mouth, stops mid chew, his eyes and cheeks bulging in disbelief.

"shinsuke," you hiss under your breath as you try to gently tug your wrist back. kita doesn't let go, his thumb just pressing lightly against the back of your hand to keep it still. "what are you doing? people– no, everyone– is looking."

"you used the wrong ointment for a kitchen cut," kita says, still eyeing the cut. he completely ignores the fact that almost the whole of karasuno and inarizaki have stopped talking to stare at him and you. "this is a standard plastic bandage. it breathes too much, and you didn't apply an antiseptic. i know you, y/n. the skin on your hands gets dry quickly in the winter, so if you don't treat it properly, the cut will split again when you handle the cold water bottles later."

"shin, i'm fine, really, it's just a tiny scratch," you murmur, your face burning so hot you're worried you might actually pass out right into the rice cooker. you give him a desperately pleading look, but kita's face doesn't change, remaining firm.

"it isn't just a scratch," he corrects you calmly, his dark eyes meeting yours with honesty. there's something else in there, too. "i told you yesterday that the equipment in the kitchens here are poorly maintained."

"shinsuke–"

"i have the proper medical salve and the waterproof zinc tape in my room. come with me after you finish so i can wrap it correctly." kita finishes, looking up to meet your eyes and smiling softly.

yep. dead silence follows. dead you too after that.

"in... his room?" you hear kageyama ask, holding an empty plate he's evidently already finished (no surprise there) and looking genuinely horrified, like his brain is trying to process a complex mathematical formula that doesn't make sense. (although for him.. more like an incredibly easy question). "why would l/n-san go to the inarizaki captain's room? is this a tactic to weaken our game?"

tsukishima sighs from his spot next to yamaguchi. "it's always volleyball with the king."

sugawara discreetly puts more food on tsukki's plate bc my boy needs to eat more poor guy

you're about to retort when atsumu suddenly drops his chopsticks onto his tray with a loud clatter, pointing a finger at his captain.

"aha! i knew it! i bloody knew it! you've been smellin' like this sweet floral laundry soap for months, kita-san! you've been sneaking around with her, haven't ya?!"

osamu doesn't even look up from his food, chewing slowly. "shut up, 'tsumu. everyone knew except you. you're just blind. right, sunarin?"

atsumu squawks. "oh, you–"

"wait, hold on a minute!" tanaka roars, finally swallowing his chicken and slamming his fists on the table, standing up so fast his chair screeches against the floor. "what do you mean sneaking around?! our manager? with him?! he looks like he's never broken a single rule in his entire life!"

nishinoya, who's next to him, swallows an equally as large bite of chicken and stands up as well. "we demand justice!"

sugawara is staring at you with his mouth slightly open, a slow, amused smile creeping onto his face as he puts the pieces together.

you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. 

you wince as you turn to look at kita, who is still holding your wrist and completely unmoved by the absolute uproar he has just caused. "shinsuke, please," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. "i thought we were going to wait until after to tell people."

kita lets go of your wrist, finally taking the rice bowl from your hands, but his expression doesn't change. "i really didn't see the purpose in making a whole grand announcement, y/n. i'm yours, and you mine, that's all that's important. i thought about it last night."

he.. kita..

fuck. could this man be any more perfect?

"besides, you're injured, and it's my responsibility as your boyfriend to make sure you are taken care of. i'm not ashamed of that fact." 

kita turns his gaze to daichi, seated next to sugawara, giving your captain a polite and respectful nod. "sawamura-san. i'll ensure she returns to your share of the rooms before curfew. she requires proper attention tonight."

daichi merely blinks, left eye twitching slightly as he takes in the sheer authority radiating off the boy. "uh.. right. just... make sure she's back by then, kita-san."

"of course, good results need proper rest, after all," kita replies simply. he turns back to you, voice softening. "eat your dinner before the rice gets cold. i'll wait for you by the wash stations, okay?"

when he gets your nod, he smiles again, and walks away to join his table, leaving you standing there in shock (and fantasising about all the ways you're gonna show your gratitude to him later) while tanaka and nishinoya, the dynamic duo, weep out loud about the mole amongst them, and atsumu starts loudly demanding to know who asked out who. 

you sigh and drag a weary hand down your face, knowing that the rest of this camp is going to be a very long, very loud nightmare.

but you'll have kita.

tsukishima is going to remain that one guy who's incredibly observant and a pain in our asshole for probably most of them LMAO (apart from his, of course)

taglist 01. ( to be added OR removed, fill out the tag form )

@adv3rs1ty @charityjoy22 @kohavalon @x3nafix @edenandagain @katsukisser @bontensh0e @wowbyselene @lynxzxz @livelaughlovetoru @mischivana @asteruuu @leosxrealm @irethepotato @lithiumval @dreamayy @wanderless-musings @sunnyl1ght @perlleta @noemivalorr @bookworm-center @thesmithslvr17 @lottiekarottiqd @fweakygyatt @wellitseugi @haniipie @charukii @imgonnashartmyself @toorubae @kotarosangel @badtzmai @coluwumbina @showhay @hibernatinghamster @dragon-slayer5 @girlwithanattitude @milkyd0e @appalost @daphxOxO @daphX0X0 @officialkatzline @izouizouletdownyourhair @marrawrr @scarymygodurdivine @seafoodboil10 @sweetieelilii @kagstobioisthelightofmylife @holacsh @sh0dor1 @simplyjustmesstuff @winxclubluvrr @n-o-b-o-d-y123 @tc-selmarillian

"No." He answers curtly. He refuses to go back to bed, to sleep, to possibly let that thing take control of him again. "I'm fine." He answers and diverts his eyes from you.

"no you're not, you're tired and you need to sleep." You turn his chair around to make Stiles look at you.

He lets you turn the chair easily, his eyes look at you, the bags under them even prominent in the dim light coming from outside the window, "I can handle being tired." He replies stubbornly, but his eyes are telling you that he is already worn out and just when you're about to answer he keeps on going.

"-what I can't handle though, is dreaming over and over about what he- what I did." His voice trembles as he speaks and your heart breaks a little when his eyes become teary. It's the first time he talks about what happened and for the whole past week, after the Nogitsune was defeated, you've tried at least once a day to make him open up: enough to make him understand that you were ready to listen and be there for him but not so much as to make him feel under pressure.

"what he did, Stiles, that wasn't you, it was never you." You kneel in front of him.

"I know-" Stiles answers, his voice becoming thick, "I know that, but- but it was my body, wasn't it? I was there, inside of it, watching." He admits, his head hits the back of his chair repeatedly and his eyes closes shut, like he's trying to get something out of his head.

“I- I can't stop thinking about it." he whispers, opening his glassy eyes to look at you again, you grab his hands, they're cold against your skin and he grips them strongly to hold on something. "Allison is dead, she died because I wasn't strong enough to control him no... because he knew I was weak enough to control and the things my body did to Coach, to Kira and Scott... to you... How can you even look at me after all I did?" he lets out a sarcastic laugh and your own eyes become teary at the mention of Allison.

"No one thinks that what happened is your fault, Allison is not dead because of you, Scott and Kira didn't get hurt because of you and neither did I." You squeeze his hands and bring them closer to you, his bust falls forward until his elbows rest on his knees and his head his slumped in front of your face.

"When the Nogitsune did those things I didn't feel your hands, I didn't see your eyes, I didn't hear your voice." your fingers move to grab his face and caress it softly, he looks at you from between his eyelashes: vulnerable, guilty, and so, so tired.

"How can you say that?" He asks you, and his voice is shaky. "How can you be so sure? Maybe I am evil." he whispers, keeping his eyes close, and you can't help but shake your head as he nuzzles his face in your hands.

"Because everything was so different with him: he was colder, angrier... it was evil, everything that you're not, everything that I'm not seeing right now." your thumbs are placed under his eyes, ready to catch the tears that are threatening to escape.

He leans into your touch, his tired eyes closing and a shaky breath leaving his lips. His shoulders slump forward and his head falls against your shoulder, the wet sensation of his tears against your skin is followed by his breath, like he's trying to fight a sob, trying to control himself. "I don't want you to see me this way," he whispers.

"I don't mind and you shouldn't either, I want to know what's going on in your head all the time, from the dumbest thing to the most serious one, that's what I'm here for." you kiss his temple.

His hands move away from your grip to grab your hips instead, his fingers grip at your skin in an attempt to hold onto himself as he buries his face in your shoulder, trying to hide, embarrassed. He whispers hoarsely, "I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not! You could never be a burden to me, Sti'... You're always there for everyone, always ready to help, let me do this for you, let me be the one to help you this time." You whisper against his temple and it seems to break the last bit of his wall as he finally lets his dam break, his body trembles against you as he finally lets out a broken sob, his chest heaving in a pathetic attempt to keep crying quietly.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he says on repeat, his arms tighten around your hips, clinging to you like his life depends on it.

"shhh, you don't have to be sorry, it's okay," you rub his back to soothe him. His sorry's doesn't stop, his face still pressed against your skin and with each apology his grip on you tightens. "You're exhausted, after a night of sleep you'll feel better, come with me." 

He shakes his head again, "No, no I can't-" He doesn't finish his sentence, another broken sob escaping his throat as he tightens his grip on you even further, you doubt he's even aware of what he's doing, lost in another wave of guilt.

"I promise that I'll wake you up if I'll feel you move or mumble." 

Stiles stays in place, still shaking and sobbing against you, his entire body tense with the effort to keep himself together. "Promise?" his voice is a wreck, a barely understandable whisper.

You nod, "I swear." You stand back on your feet and he lets you maneuver him until he is lying on the bed.

"I don't want to fall asleep," he whispers but it's a weak protest, his eyes are already closing.

"I know... I'll be here." you sit on the pillows next to his head and he soon finds your lap to rest on, his arm lay around your thighs next to his face, a tense sighs escapes his lips when he feels your hands rest on him again: the left on his cheek to dry the tears and the other under the collar of his shirt, right between his shoulder blades.  

His eyes flutter shut and his face relaxes at the soothing feeling of your fingers on his body... the guilt, the tiredness, the fear, he let all of that wash away from his body, focusing on your touch and your voice. He fights to stay awake for as much as he can, until the tiredness in his bones eventually drag him in a deep sleep, his breathing slows.

He looks so vulnerable, so at peace that you can see how tired he was in the way his face relaxes, the shadows under his eyes becoming more prominent against his tired face. He looks young, too young to have gone through all of those ordeals. The room door creaks as it gets opened and your eyes shot up towards the noise.

At the door a sleepy, yet worried looking Noah appears, he's dressed in his sheriff uniform, he probably just got home from his shift and you didn't hear the front door open. He looks surprised to see you here, you haven't slept in the Stilinski's house for a whole month and the past week Stiles forbade you to sleep with him so as not to scare you or make you lose sleep "unnecessarily", his words, not yours. 

You smile to wordlessly greet him and cover Stiles ear with your palm to avoid waking him up. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him for tonight, go to sleep," you assure him with a low voice.

He looks at his son, his chest rising and sinking with each breath, then at you: tired, clearly worried but still determined, he takes in the image for a moment before sighing and nodding, his own tiredness makes him accept the proposal more easily than he would have done if he hadn't been so sleep deprived. "I trust you, just... call me if anything happens."

"I will, goodnight Noah." 

He nods with a forced smile. "Goodnight, sweetheart." He closes the door behind him and you go back gazing at Stiles, your breathing coordinates with his, deep and slow, and involuntarily your eyes close a few minutes later in a light sleep... light enough to feel his breath become erratic an hour or so later. 

You immediately open your eyes and look down at him: his eyes are squeezed shut, eyebrows furrowed in the way you've sadly seen too many times these days and his mouth opened to let out small whimpers between his trembling breaths. You sigh and move your hand to shake his shoulder lightly, until his eyes shot open and he takes a a breath similar to what you would usually take after staying too much time under the water.

It would have been ridiculous to think that after everything that happened to him in the last month he would stop having nightmares after just one night, but it's okay, because you know that he can get through it, and that you won't leave him to deal with this alone.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you enjoyed, recommendations, suggestions and requests are always welcome and open! <3

so, the plan was foolproof. he was going to walk up to you after practice, present a perfectly wrapped box of those specific strawberry pastries you practically wept over, and demand—very politely, but with immense internal desperation—that you become his.

except life wasn’t a well-optimized textbook. life was a cruel, unfeeling joke.

shirabu rounded the corner of the sub-gym, a small, neat bag clutched in a grip so tight his knuckles were white enough to blend into the drywall. he stopped dead.

the air left his lungs in a sharp, pathetic wheeze. there you were, looking entirely too radiant under the crappy fluorescent lights, holding a ridiculous giant plush bear. and standing right next to you, towering over your frame like an ominous, athletic monolith, was ushijima wakatoshi.

worse. ushijima was reaching out, his massive, terrifyingly strong hand coming down to rest right on top of your head, ruffling your hair with a gentleness that shouldn’t legally belong to a guy who could dent a volleyball court with his bare hands. you were beaming up at him, your smile wide and bright enough to completely blind a man.

shirabu’s internal monologue immediately shattered into a million screaming pieces. ushijima? his captain? the absolute pinnacle of shirabu’s volleyball worship, the guy he dedicated his entire athletic career to setting for, was currently invading his romantic territory?

a normal person would have wilted. a normal person would have slunk back into the shadows, cursed the heavens, and eaten the strawberry pastries alone in a dark room while contemplating the unfairness of genetic distribution.

but shirabu kenjirō did not possess a normal, healthy coping mechanism when it came to you. he was possessed by a deeply rooted, completely unhinged devotion that bypassed logic entirely. a sudden, white-hot surge of possessive panic flooded his veins. if he had to fight a six-foot-two national powerhouse for your affection, then he would simply have to figure out the exact angle to strike a knee to bring down a giant. he was not leaving here without his girl.

he marched forward, his sneakers squeaking aggressively against the linoleum. each step felt like he was marching into a medieval battle armed with nothing but a box of baked goods and sheer, concentrated audacity.

“excuse me,” shirabu barked, his voice cracking only a tiny, microscopic bit.

you both blinked, turning to look at him. ushijima’s expression remained as blank as a freshly washed chalkboard, while your eyes lit up like sparklers the second you registered his slashed bob hair.

“kenjirō!” you chirped, entirely unaware of the absolute war zone currently occurring inside his chest.

shirabu didn’t look at ushijima. if he looked at his captain, his survival instincts might kick back in, and he couldn’t afford that right now. instead, he locked his gaze onto you with the intensity of a starving hawk. he reached out, grabbed your wrist—carefully, ensuring he didn’t actually hurt you, though his palm was trembling with adrenaline—and literally hauled you three inches to the left, stepping directly into the space between you and the ace.

“i’m taking her,” shirabu said flatly, looking up at ushijima with an expression that he hoped conveyed ‘i will bite your kneecaps off’ rather than ‘please don’t crush me like a bug’. “we have an appointment.”

ushijima tilted his head, his massive brow furrowing in genuine, slow-motion confusion. “an appointment? the cafeteria is closed, shirabu. and she is supposed to help me carry—”

“it’s urgent,” shirabu snapped, his ears burning a furious, violent shade of pink. he tightened his grip on your wrist, his heart hammering against his ribs so loud he was convinced you could hear it. “happy birthday. you’re coming with me.”

with all the grace of a frantic goblin stealing a shiny coin, shirabu turned on his heel and dragged you down the hallway, his legs moving at a brisk, panicked clip.

you let out a breathy, startled laugh, stumbling slightly to keep up with his aggressive strides until he hauled you into an empty, dimly lit classroom and shut the door behind you with a definitive thud.

he leaned his back against the wood, chest heaving as if he had just run a triple marathon uphill. the sheer adrenaline of hijacking his captain’s conversation was beginning to fade, leaving him utterly exposed to the reality of what he had done. he looked at you, his eyes wide and completely vulnerable, looking like a cat that had successfully stolen a giant fish but had absolutely no idea how to clean it.

“kenjirō,” you breathed, a massive, teasing gring breaking across your face. you adjusted the giant plush bear under your arm, stepping right into his personal space. “what was that? you looked like you were about to try and fight wakatoshi with your bare teeth.”

“i would have,” he muttered honestly, his voice dropping into a rough, defensive mumble. he looked down at his shoes, his usual sharp demeanor completely melting into a puddle of mush. “i would’ve fought him. i don’t care if he can launch me into orbit.”

you tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “why would you need to fight him?”

“because!” shirabu burst out, his hand flying up to cover his face as a wave of intense embarrassment finally washed over him. his skin was so hot he was pretty sure he could fry an egg on his forehead. “because i’ve been losing my mind for three months straight over you. because i can’t sleep, and i can’t focus on my sets, and every time you laugh at something semi says i want to hurl myself out a window. and then i come out here to give you your stupid birthday present and he’s touching your hair, and i realized if i didn’t do something right now i was going to lose you to a guy who talks to rice fields.”

he finally pulled his hand away from his face, looking at you with a desperation so thick it was almost tangible. “i like you. so much it’s actually disgusting. i need you to be my girlfriend or i’m going to fail my college entrance exams, i swear to god.”

the classroom went entirely still. shirabu held his breath, his soul practically leaving his body through his mouth as he waited for the rejection that would inevitably send him into hiding for the next five years.

instead, you let out a sound that was half-squeak, half-giggle, dropped the giant plush bear directly onto the floor, and buried your face straight into his chest.

shirabu froze, his arms stiff at his sides like a mannequin. “what.”

“you’re so dumb,” you mumbled against his uniform, your voice muffled but completely laced with joy. “you’re such an idiot, kenjirō.”

“that’s not a no,” he whispered, his hands hovering over your waist, desperately wanting to touch but still paralyzed by the sheer shock of your warmth.

“of course it’s not a no,” you said, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your cheeks flushed a beautiful, soft pink. “i’ve been dropping hints so obvious that even goshiki noticed them weeks ago. but… why were you jealous of wakatoshi?”

“he was touching your hair,” shirabu grumbled, his possessive streak flaring back up as he finally allowed his arms to wrap securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “he doesn’t touch anyone. he barely acknowledges human touch.”

“kenjirō,” you giggled, reaching up to gently pat his burning cheek. “wakatoshi is my cousin. my mom is his dad’s sister.”

shirabu’s brain completely short-circuited. the internal machinery groaned, sparked, and died. “…what?”

“he’s my cousin,” you repeated, your smile growing wider as you watched his expression transition from fierce jealousy to absolute, catastrophic realization. “our families have sunday dinner together every week. he was rubbing my hair because he bought me that giant bear and didn’t know how to say ‘happy birthday’ without sounding like a robot.”

shirabu let his forehead drop forward until it rested heavily against your shoulder. a long, agonizing groan vibrated through his chest. “i’m going to throw myself off the gymnasium roof.”

“don’t do that,” you laughed, your fingers sliding up into his hair, gently massaging the base of his neck. the feeling was so incredibly good that shirabu felt his entire spine go limp. “i like you alive. and i really want my birthday present.”

he sniffed, a purely dramatic sound, and pulled back just enough to retrieve the crumpled paper bag from his pocket. he handed it to you, watching with an embarrassing amount of anxiety as you opened it to reveal the perfectly intact strawberry pastries.

your eyes went wide, and you let out a genuine, delighted gasp that made his chest swell with so much pride he felt like he could fly. “you remembered!”

“of course i remembered,” he muttered, his thumb reaching out completely on instinct to brush a stray strand of hair away from your cheek. his touch was infinitely softer than ushijima’s could ever be, his fingers lingering on your skin as if you were made of glass. “i remember everything you say. it’s a problem.”

you beamed, setting the bag on a nearby desk before wrapping your arms firmly around his neck. “best birthday ever.”

shirabu didn’t answer with words. instead, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, the kiss sweet and desperate and so entirely full of his absurd devotion that it left you both breathless. when he pulled away, his hands were still resting on your hips, refusing to let you step even an inch out of his reach.

“you’re mine now,” he stated, trying to sound firm, though the goofy, love-struck grin breaking across his face completely ruined the effect. “no more giants allowed near you.”

“deal,” you whispered, kissing the tip of his nose.

n: happy birthday again, misa !! mwuah :3

masterlist - the art of haikyuu!!

© showhay — don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

you hey number neighbor! hope youre having a good night :) xxx-xxx-xx3 Please stop texting this number.  you huh xxx-xxx-xx3 I'm a 45 year old male and this is my work number; I don't have time to deal with unemployed people like you.  Do not contact me again. you fuck im so sorry message failed to send

ah. he actually blocked you.

you let out a breathless laugh into your pillow, face burning from embarrassment. “oh my god.”

well. that went horribly.

but now you're fully awake, and the adrenaline of getting instantly rejected by some 45 year old man (you hope he isn't too peeved about that..) has you feeling reckless. 

after all, there's still the 5.

you copy the number, change the last digit – again, a five this time – and send the text before you can overthink it.

you okay i hope you arent a 45 year old man this time too because my other number neighbor just blocked me lmao anyway hi number neighbor !! (take two) xxx-xxx-xx5 ?? who is this?? and why are you texting me at 2am about middle aged men ^-^ you im your number neighbor 😔 our numbers are the same except the last digit xxx-xxx-xx5 hold on you holding xxx-xxx-xx5 WAIT OMG THEY ARE you see im not insane xxx-xxx-xx5 debatable you disliked this message and wow your other neighbor blocked you immediately? that’s embarrassing for you you i don't need another person to tell me 💔💔 xxx-xxx-xx5 too bad i'm telling you you okay dude xxx-xxx-xx5 you know what vibe you give off (^-^) you what xxx-xxx-xx5 small and grumpy

you snort quietly into your blanket.

if you have to say so, there's something stupidly easy about texting this person, even if it's only been a few messages. the texts come quick, like they're typing the second they get yours instead of leaving you on read for a bit. half teasing, half genuinely interested it appears.

you hesitate, fingers stalling on the keyboard before hurriedly replying.

you first of all  im not grumpy xxx-xxx-xx5 if not grumpy you texted strangers at 2am that, btw, automatically makes you a little weird you says the person answering xxx-xxx-xx5 touché ;) you liked this message but what made you text me well me and the 45 yr old man you couldn't sleep you? xxx-xxx-xx5 my practice ran late bones aching and muscles sore brain is still awake you practice for what and what the fuck is that a fucking haiku xxx-xxx-xx5 secret ;) fucking and fucking yes fucking it's fucking a fucking haiku you i literally said it twice. you are so dramatic 🫩 xxx-xxx-xx5 thank you! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

you roll your eyes – dramatic is honestly the perfect word for them. and as for those blasted emoticons, kaomojis, whatever you call them-

in any case, every message sent through from them somehow feels like they can't help making everything sound theatrical, even through text.

your phone vibrates again before you can answer.

xxx-xxx-xx5 WAIT what if YOURE actually a 45 year old man trying to lure me into a false sense of security!? you yeah definitely that's exactly what's happening xxx-xxx-xx5 i knew it you CON ARTIST you go to sleep grandma xxx-xxx-xx5 grandma??? 😨 i'm youthful and radiant actually (≧◡≦) and i'd be grandpa you gramps, only old people say youthful and radiant xxx-xxx-xx5 and you have experience with that you omfg no xxx-xxx-xx5 wow this relationship is becoming toxic  you swear like a sailor (⇀‸↼‶) you this is not a relationship 😭 arr me hearties xxx-xxx-xx5 wow okay way to friendzone me you we're not even friends xxx-xxx-xx5 YOU'RE SO CRUEL you goodnight annoying neighbor you changed xxx-xxx-xx5 to annoying neighbour 🙄 annoying neighbour 🙄 get rid of that emoji i’m begging you that is gruesome you no i’d rather not annoying neighbour 🙄 well then annoying neighbour 🙄 changed xxx-xxx-xx4 to oh so lovely neighbour (˘ ³˘) annoying neighbour 🙄 now we're matching you i actually don't mind that tbh annoying neighbour 🙄 liked this message

you fall asleep smiling at your phone despite yourself.

the next morning, you wake up late. obviously not because you went to sleep past three am.

your phone is at 12%, and there's a text waiting for you.

annoying neighbour 🙄 good morning! •⩊• did the 45 yr old text you back yet?

you snort, a little huff of laughter escaping your mouth.

you no 💔 he blocked me remember annoying neighbour 🙄 oh yes i should do that stranger danger you know.. you oh stfu why are YOU awake this early annoying neighbour 🙄 stop with that attitude some of us are productive members of society you i don’t believe that for two seconds annoying neighbour 🙄 then believe it for one

the next few days, texting him weirdly becomes part of your routine, first nature.

well, you still don't know their name, or age, or what they look like (a boy, apparently), but you know quite a lot at the same time.

like how they're the type to talk with their hands because they spam texts in bursts instead of one message, and you know they complain dramatically when they're hungry, you know they're competitive about literally everything, and-

yeah, you could go on.

annoying neighbour 🙄 just beat my friend at mario kart btw im basically a professional athlete you that is not athleticism. annoying neighbour 🙄 that's wrong actually! my thumbs are incredibly talented you that sounded gross annoying neighbour 🙄 OH MY GOSH NOT LIKE THAT?? why is your mind so dirty (¯ ¯٥) you reacted ! to this message 

you never send selfies, but they never ask either. however, sometimes you catch yourself wondering,

wondering if their grin is as smug as it sounds through text,

wondering what kind of expression they make when they type all these stupid dramatic messages, 

wondering if your luck is crazy enough that they have an extremely attractive face.

judging by your luck so far, though, probably not.

one friday night, you're brushing your teeth when your phone buzzes from where it lies on the sink counter.

annoying neighbour 🙄 EMERGENCY you what annoying neighbour 🙄 i need you to settle an argument you why me :/ annoying neighbour 🙄 because i trust strangers on the internet  obviously you that sounds unsafe who would even think! of texting on in the first place?? annoying neighbour 🙄 liked this message annoying neighbour 🙄 my friend says mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like toothpaste tell him he's wrong you LMAO i'm brushing my teeth right now what a coincidence your friend is right actually annoying neighbour 🙄 blocked.

you grin.

you wow first the 45 yr old now this everyone keeps abandoning me 🤧 annoying neighbour 🙄 you deserve it for your horrible opinions you you're so dramatic annoying neighbour 🙄 you've said!  you do continue texting me every day though ⸜( ˙˘˙)⸝ now go brush your teeth, i bet they're stinky.. you oh shut up

then you pause, because he’s right; every day. without really meaning to, it's become constant.

whether it's during class, or late at night, while shopping, when he's apparently ‘at practice’.

you're still not one hundred percent sure what sport he plays, but you're beginning to suspect volleyball purely because of how often he complains about his shoulders, since you're somewhat knowledgeable on the sport.

and also, because one time he texted:

‘if one more person tells me serves are easy i'm going to lose it.’

this time, you're sitting in your kitchen eating cereal straight from the box when another text comes through.

annoying neighbour 🙄 i think my teammate is trying to kill me. you HELLO?? annoying neighbour 🙄 he spiked a ball directly at my face i'm sure it was on purpose (◑_◑) you oh so you do play volleyball .. wait did i guess right annoying neighbour 🙄 shit you HAHAAHAHHA annoying neighbour 🙄 don't laugh at me i liked being mysterious and all that you there is nothing mysterious about the way you text 😭😭 annoying neighbour 🙄 wow.

you stifle a laugh, then return to your cereal.

not even a minute later, though-

annoying neighbour 🙄 for the record i'm very mysteriously good looking ᵔ.ᵔ

you nearly choke on cereal. the confidence on this man..

that night you're walking home from the convenience store when your phone buzzes – again.

annoying neighbour 🙄 bad news you what now annoying neighbour 🙄 i think my teammate stole my knee pads you just confirming this is the same teammate who spiked a ball into your head and said mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like toothpaste right annoying neighbour 🙄 YES you cool why would someone steal knee pads tho 😭 annoying neighbour 🙄 jealousy  envy obsession need i go on you no thanks  annoying neighbour 🙄 you wound me (╥﹏╥)

you smile, fingers typing back a snarky response, but then, then-

someone bumps into your shoulder, hard, and your phone nearly slips out of your hand as you nearly faceplant onto the concrete.

“sorry,” the stranger mutters, barely glancing back before continuing down the sidewalk.

you frown, then glance at your phone. you type out a response again.

you bro someone walked into me and nearly knocked me over

and at the exact same time you send it-

annoying neighbour 🙄 OMG i just saw someone almost eat shit on the sidewalk ⊙﹏⊙

you stop dead in your tracks.

that.. can't be a coincidence, right?

slowly, you look up.

across the street, near the crosswalk, a tall guy in a white hoodie is staring at his phone.

then he looks up too.

and even from this far away, you can see the way he freezes up.

no. way.

your heart starts pounding, frantically panging against your chest in a quick rhythm.

nope. absolutely not. there's no fakaashing way.

you start to type again, but slower this time, fingers hesitantly pressing each letter.

you if you're wearing a hoodie by chance what colour is it annoying neighbour 🙄 white you oh my god that better not be you standing there.

you stare across the street in horror, and the guy lowers his phone slowly.

then the light changes, and instead of crossing toward you-

he immediately turns around and starts walking fast the opposite direction.

like, fast. really fast.

your jaw drops, not at the speed (although shit, it is insanely quick) but at the fact he's literally running away.

you DID YOU JUST RUN AWAY?? annoying neighbour 🙄 SELF DEFENSE you WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN annoying neighbour 🙄 this is too much pressure suddenly Ծ_Ծ i wasn't emotionally prepared to find out you're like actually real

you burst out laughing. people stare, but you don't even remotely care.

annoying neighbour 🙄 so you were the one that nearly ate shit.. you oh hush you changed annoying neighbour 🙄 to run(a)way queen run(a)way queen i would complain but that's sort of genius you i know run(a)way queen changed oh so lovely neighbour (˘ ³˘) to shit eater :p you im not playing you better fucking change that right now before i chase after you. run(a)way queen oh please like you could catch me you YOU HAVE 5 SECONDS run(a)way queen OKAY OKAY run(a)way queen changed shit eater :p to run after queen you really run(a)way queen hey i had no ideas it's better than shit eater you you mean akaashiit had no ideas akaashiit oops run(a)way queen what the

after that, things get worse, or better – you're not entirely sure.

because now there's a face attached to the texts.

okay, well. sort of. you really only saw him for maybe.. three seconds?

tall, brown hair (you believe; it was hard to tell from only the faint light of the streetlamps) and that white hoodie.

also,the most obnoxiously smug posture you've ever seen in your life.

you you literally fled the scene like a criminal omg are you a criminal run(a)way queen listen i panicked you mhm sure  run(a)way queen AND YOU WERE SHORT??? like i've been calling you short but damn you really are this is the best day of my life you blocked. run(a)way queen NO WAIT

you still don't exchange names though. mostly because now it's become weirdly funny not to.

he calls you gremlin, menace, shortstack, the likes.

you call him drama queen, pretty boy, loser, read more.

he reacts quite strongly to pretty boy, which is suspicious.

one night he randomly sends:

run(a)way queen be honest am i your favorite person to text you absolutely not run(a)way queen you replied in 4 seconds btw （˶′◡‵˶）

and with that, you promptly yeet deposit throw your phone across the bed.

sometimes, he disappears for hours, usually after ‘practice’, but that's understandable since you're busy too.

then he comes back texting like nothing happened.

run(a)way queen im alive you congrats here's a golden star ⭐️ run(a)way queen wow no concern for my wellbeing?? you ?i gave you a star what more do you want dude run(a)way queen heartless (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ you whered u go anyway run(a)way queen match you did you win?

the pause that follows is long enough that you think he won't answer, then:

run(a)way queen yeah :) you good job then i'm sure you played well 

three whole minutes pass.

run(a)way queen careful there! you almost sounded nice (≧◡≦) you JUST LET ME COMPLIMENT YOU 🫩

a few days later, you're sitting in class half asleep when your phone vibrates under the desk.

run(a)way queen EMERGENCY PART 2 you if this is about ice cream again i'm blocking you for real this time run(a)way queen dead sirius?? ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°) you you didn't. run(a)way queen ANYWAY worse i think one of my classmates has a crush on me and is planning to confess later

you blink.

why does that annoy you a little..

you okay? run(a)way queen okay?? that's all u have to say? you what do you want me to say 😭 run(a)way queen idk maybe cry a little (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) you and why would i cry run(a)way queen good question actudnf fkrmtm

you stare.

yeah.. he definitely got his phone taken away.

frowning, you lock your phone harder than necessary.

stupid. that's stupid. you don't even know this guy!

later that evening, he texts again.

run(a)way queen sorry i got my phone taken (◑_◑) you yes i could tell run(a)way queen i rejected her

your fingers pause over the keyboard – it's funny how you know what he's talking about straight away.

you why are you reporting this information to me like i'm your manager  run(a)way queen because secrets aren't good in relationships! you there's that word again..

you hate how warm your face feels.

the first actual real conversation happens accidentally.

you're out in the rain, trying to get home, safe and sound, when your umbrella honest to god snaps inside out from the wind.

you stand there in disbelief, getting more drenched by the second. surely your day can't get any worse.

run(a)way queen you alive

you send a picture of your destroyed umbrella, and his reply comes immediately.

run(a)way queen LMFAOOO that umbrella gave up on life you this is not funny run(a)way queen it's a little funny wait where are you rn

you pause, then send a vague picture of the street.

run(a)way queen oh wait i know where that is you what run(a)way queen don't panic but i think im like 5 mins away you that sounds threatening when you say it like that run(a)way queen LMAO do you need help or not

you glance up at the pouring rain and instantly get pelted in the eye, which makes up your mind straight away.

you fine but if you murder me i'll be really annoyed you know run(a)way queen liked this message

five minutes later, more or less, a black umbrella appears beside you.

you turn your head, and-

oh.

oh, he's pretty.

the first coherent thought that hits you.

still fluffy brown hair damp from the rain, stupidly sharp eyes that are crinkled up,. taller than you by an infuriating amount, an athletic build.

and smiling at you like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

“you are shorter than i imagined,” he says immediately, and you roll your eyes.

“you ran away last time,” is what you answer with. you try to keep the tremble out of your voice, and pray that if he does hear it, he'll believe it's from the cold.

shit. you understand why that girl had a crush on him now.

he shrugs, still grinning at you. “fight or flight response.”

“and.. you chose flight.”

“obviously.”

his voice embodies his texts somehow. dramatic and smooth and teasing all at once.

you stare at each other awkwardly for two seconds.

then at the same time,

“you really are pretty–”

“you really do talk too much–”

you both stop, and he blinks. then grins slowly.

“waaaait,” he says, an even larger smile spreading across his handsome face. “what was that first part?”

you flush. “nothing.” oh, why did you have to open your mouth?

“no no, say it again, i insist.” he's still grinning.

“absolutely not.”

“you think i'm pretty–”

“oh my god shut up.”

he laughs loudly enough that two people walking by glance over, and you swear one of them leans over and murmurs about ‘what an adorable couple you are’.

you clear your throat, tapping your foot against the pavement. “ i do not talk too much. i've literally barely spoken – if anything, you’re the chatterbox here.”

he continues to stare at you, an amused expression on his face.

“what?’ you demand.

“that was sixteen words in one sentence.” he beams. “point proven.”

“it was two sentences you nincompoop-”

walking home beside him under one umbrella feels like it's the only right way.

which is dangerous – walking next to him is dangerous, breathing the same air as him is dangerous, just being near him is dangerous. 

that's the only conclusion you come to during the fifteen minute walk home.

before this, he'd just been texts on a screen, annoying messages at 2am. 

dumb kaomojis. dramatic complaints about volleyball and life and mint chocolate chip ice cream.

now he's this actual, living breathing person beside you holding an umbrella, slightly more over your side than his without mentioning it.

and unfortunately, he's pretty enough to be a genuine problem.

“you're staring,” he says casually.

you'd think he's being cocky if you didn't chance a look at him to see the red snow peaking his ears.

god, he knows exactly what he looks like – of course he does.

“you talk exactly like you text,” you mumble into the collar of your jacket.

he smiles. “is that a compliment?”

“not really.”

he stops, causing you to stop too. “ouch,” he says, quirking an eyebrow at you that you snort at.

you glance at him sideways. “sooo.. what do i call you now?”

he gasps dramatically, putting a hand to his forehead. “wow. after all we've been through together, you still don't know my name?”

“bye, i'm leaving-”

“hey- wait-” he reaches out and grabs your wrist just as you turn to leave. you weren’t really going to, but..

when you turn to him with wide eyes, he clears his throat and lets go, albeit reluctantly.

you don’t know that, of course.

he laughs again, all loud and easy but sort of.. breathily? this time. “you can keep calling me number neighbor. or runaway queen. whatever is to your liking, maam,” and flourishes a bow.

you heave a sigh and cross your arms. “that’s stupid.”

“says the person who still hasn’t told me their name either.”

a smile pops onto your face, and you hastily pull out your phone.

he frowns now. “what.. what are you doing?”

you only hum. after a moment, you hold your phone up, turn the volume all the way, and an automated voice comes out, like the one used for google translate. 

“touché,” the robotic tone says.

he bursts into a fit of laughter.

when you reach your building, neither of you say anything as rain taps against the umbrella softly.

he shifts his weight awkwardly.

“well,” you start quietly, “thanks for rescuing me, i guess.”

“you’re welcome, tiny gremlin.”

“die-”

he grins and wags a finger at you. “hey, don’t make jokes like that.”

“oh, i’m not joking.”

then his grin wavers, then softens when he realises you're only teasing.

“text me when you get upstairs,” he murmurs. “so i know you didn’t slip and- die, or something.”

you sigh. “i solemnly swear i will not slip and die.” you turn to walk away.

“wait.”

you glance back, confused.

he’s rubbing the back of his neck now, looking oddly nervous for the first time since meeting him.

“you- er, still- still think i’m pretty, right?”

you stare at him blankly.

then immediately walk off without answering while he shouts offendedly behind you.

guess you’ve both pulled a walky-offy now.

you don't know it they're coincidences or not, because now he starts appearing everywhere.not intentionally, probably, but it's situations like you'll be walking past a shop or on the stret and suddenly get a text.

run(a)way queen look left ;)

and there he is, across the street holding up an energy drink with that stupid grin.

or, you'll be in line at a café and hear, ‘wow, fancy seeing you here!’ like he didn't absolutely text you twenty minutes earlier asking where you were, all innocent and ‘oh, no reason!’

but, he still refuses to tell you his name, which honestly would annoy you more if you weren't equally stubborn, like two peas in a pod.

instead, your.. relationship settles into this weird in between.

not strangers, and not exactly friends either.

maybe flirting – although you're trying not to think about that too hard.

for all you know, he does this with everyone, or he could be in a relationship. for now, you're content to stay whatever you are.

you're lying in bed one night, contemplating whether to sleep or text your number neighour, when he beats you to it and suddenly sends:

run(a)way queen can i ask you something you depends if it's weird knowing you yes run(a)way queen rude you liked this message do you think we wouldve talked if we met normally? you wdym by that run(a)way queen idk like if we met randomly somewhere would you have talked to me

you think about seeing him for the first time in the rain.

his stupid smile, the confidence, the way everyone probably notices him immediately, and honestly? you probably would've assumed he was out of your league and avoided eye contact.

but you don't say that.

you maybe if you weren't annoying 🥹 run(a)way queen im never annoying?? (>o<) you would you have talked to me? run(a)way queen yeah i think i would've noticed you anywhere actually

when you eventually learn his name, it's completely by accident, which feels unfair considering how long he (and you) dragged it out.

you're at one of his volleyball matches – he'd convinced you to come after spamming you twenty four seven.

so there you are, sitting, pretending not to care‐

except you absolutely do care, because he's..

well.

annoyingly good.

and the girls behind you won't stop talking about him.

“oikawa-san's seriously so cool.”

“who? number 1?”

“yeah! him!” comes the following reply, then a dreamy sigh.

your head snaps up.

oikawa? oikawa.

of course his name is something like oikawa.

he's about to serve again when he looks up directly into the stands, and the girls start squealing.

but he finds you instantly, and smiles a real, genuine smile that warms you from the inside out.

later after the match, your phone buzzes just as you're leaving.

run(a)way queen you came!! ヽ(^。^)ノ you against my will run(a)way queen you still watched the whole game though ≧☉_☉≦ you yes well unfortunately your volleyball propaganda is working on me run(a)way queen that's because i'm amazing darling you don’t call me darling run(a)way queen sorry darling you okay you changed run(a)way queen to oikawa.. oikawa.. YOU FOUND OUT what's with the .. though it looks threatening you your fangirls were squealing your name it was kind of hard not to find out oikawa.. oh how nice of them well it's only fair i know your name now?? you hm l/n oikawa.. pretty name for a pretty person (o^ ^o) you boy 😭😭 oikawa.. changed run after queen to darling l/n (づ￣ ³￣)づ oikawa.. perfect you wtf is that kaomoji bro oikawa.. change my name to pretty boy oikawa (≧◡≦) you only because you won't shut up if i don't you changed oikawa.. to pretty boy oikawa.. pretty boy oikawa.. okay seriously what is with the .. you reacted 😊 to this message

the more you text, the more oikawa starts calling instead of texting, and it gave you the shock of your life when he first did it.

usually late at night, and you'll answer half asleep with a groggy voice to hear,

“l/n-channn.”

“why are you saying my name like that.” is your default response. and his will be, “because i'm suffering.”

“dramatic.”

then he'll ramble for twenty minutes while you listen sleepily, occasionally offering your mumbled inputs like ‘mhm’ and ‘uhuh’.

sometimes he talks about volleyball, or school, and most of the time random things that don't matter.

and sometimes, there are quiet pauses where neither of you says anything at all.

those are your favourite.

whenever you're upset or in a bad mood, you don't bother telling him – mostly because you're used to dealing with things alone. 

but one night when you answer his call, he notices that you're.. different, straight away.

“what happened?”

you frown, knowing he can't see it since your camera's off. “nothing.”

“liar.”

“wha- i’m serious.”

oikawa sighs softly through the phone, and you shift uncomfortably, pulling your blankets closer to your neck.

“did someone hurt your feelings?”

you laugh weakly, tilting your head. “that sounds so kindergarten.”

“answer the question.”

you stare up at your ceiling, vaguely making out the dying glow in the dark stickers that are stuck up there.

“i- it's no big deal- but um.. sort of.”

there's rustling on his end like he's sitting up.

“who?” oikawa says urgently.

“it doesn’t matter.”

“it matters if you sound sad.”

your throat tightens unexpectedly – that's the thing with oikawa.

he jokes around constantly, acts unserious all the time. but that only means moments where he suddenly becomes serious hit way too hard.

“my friend cancelled plans again,” you admit quietly. “for her boyfriend. and- i know it's selfish of me to be sad about that, but it always happens, and last minute.”

“wow. that sucks.”

you smile faintly. “thanks.”

it's silent for a few minutes after that, save for the sound of your combined breathing, then he breaks it.

“wanna come watch me practice tomorrow?”

you blink. “what?”

“you heard me loud and clear.”

“that's your solution?”

“well, yeah. if your friend sucks then i'll just steal you instead.” you can almost hear him grinning, and if he turned his camera on you're sure he would be.

it only takes a second to make up your mind.

“you know what, sure. i have nothing better to do anyway.”

so, the next day you go.

you almost turn around three separate times before even making it inside the gym.

you spot oikawa through the open doors and unfortunately remember how attractive he is. great.

he's standing in the middle of the court when he notices you. one second he's talking to one of his teammates, the next his whole face changes and he straightens up so fast, like a dog spotting its owner in public.

you barely have time to process that (did he just do that?) before somebody else notices too.

“oi.”

a guy near the net squints at you for a moment, then his eyes widen. “wait.”

you pause awkwardly near the entrance, hovering and not sure if you're supposed to go in or not.

another guy turns around at the tone of his voice and immediately points at you. “NO WAY.”

your stomach drops instantly, because why do they look like they recognize you??

“that's them, isn't it?” the first guy says.

“the phone person?” another one blurts out loudly.

you choke. “sorry, the what?”

oikawa visibly pales.

“mattsun,” he yells, horrified. “WHY WOULD YOU CALL THEM THAT.”

“because that's literally what you call them,” the guy – mattsun, apparently – says flatly.

“not to their face–”

you stare at him, expression beginning to turn amused.

“..phone person?” you repeat slowly.

silence for about four seconds, then another teammate snorts. “yeah, because you were ‘mysterious phone neighbor’ for like, months.”

your brain completely stalls.. “months?” you echo.

oikawa closes his eyes like he's in physical pain.

“okay,” he says carefully, already walking toward you, “before they start exaggerating–”

“you literally talked about them every day,” someone cuts in.

“alright, that is such a lie–”

“you asked us if using two exclamation marks looked desperate.”

“i-”

“you made iwaizumi read over your texts once,” mattsun adds with a lazy smirk.

you whip your head toward him so fast your neck almost cracks, eyes wide and glaring. “you what?”

oikawa looks genuinely cornered now, holding up his hands sheepishly. “in my defense, i didn’t know if saying goodnight twice was too clingy.”

you stare at him blankly.

and it hits you then, that this idiot has apparently been talking about you to his teammates for months while you thought you were just some random person he texted when he got bored.

now you can't even properly make fun of him for it!

oikawa stops in front of you, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly like he did the first time you met face to face. “listen, they're making it sound worse than it is.”

“you made your teammates help you text me?”

“once..”

“three times,” somebody corrects from the back.

“nobody asked you.”

you bite the inside of your cheek hard trying not to laugh, but ever so observant, oikawa he notices the moment you do.

his eyes narrow. “don’t.” that only makes it worse.

“you were workshopping your texts?” you manage between chortles.

“okay, wow,” he says, looking betrayed. “this is a vulnerable moment for me, you know? don't rub it in.”

you lose it a little after that, enough that a laugh slips out before you can stop it.

and the thing is, the second it does, oikawa just.. stares at you, like he forgot there are other people in the room.

the way he's just looking at you causes your laugh to falter, and the two of you lock eyes for a long moment until he clears his throat. 

“l/n-”

and the moment is gone when someone smacks the back of oikawa's head while walking past.

“quit flirting and practice,” the guy says bluntly, prompty smacking him again but harder.

“OW– iwa-chan!”

you laugh again, louder this time, and oikawa turns toward you looking extremely offended.

“you're enjoying this way too much.”

“because it’s funny.”

“my suffering should not amuse you.”

“your suffering is the funniest thing about you sorry to say.”

he gasps like you've personally stabbed him in the chest, then points dramatically. “see? this is what i deal with.”

you roll your eyes affectionately and cross your arms. “you love me, really,” you say offhandedly.

oikawa's ears dust a bright red.

it doesn't occur to you how important he's becoming to you until oikawa slowly starts disappearing.

it starts as slower replies, missing calls, and shorter messages. you tell yourself he's busy.

until nothing at all.

you hey. you alive? seen

and oikawa always replies – even if it's just to be annoying.

three days later, he finally texts.

pretty boy oikawa.. sorry been busy

and that's it. your stomach sinks.

you everything okay? pretty boy oikawa.. yeah dw about it

which is an obvious lie, but every time you try asking after that, he just brushes it off.

eventually you just stop asking.

you find out through social media; some volleyball account posts clips from a tournament.

the caption says:

‘aoba johsai eliminated after intense semifinal loss’.

that's oikawa's team.

and it all makes sense now. you stare at your screen, and immediately text him.

no answer, so you call.

straight to voicemail.

and you don't have to think before grabbing your stuff and heading out where you think he's most likely to be.

the gym is dead silent when you arrive, lights dim.

you almost think he's not there and are prepared to leave until you hear a volleyball bouncing somewhere inside.

you follow the sound, and find him alone.

he doesn’t notice you at first – he seems to be serving repeatedly at the far wall, hard enough that the impact echoes through the gym.

again

again

again

agai-

“oikawa.”

he freezes, and the ball rolls away slowly across the floor.

for a second he just stands there with his back to you, then laughs quietly.

except it sounds wrong, forced and twisted and sounds so unnatural coming out of the brown haired boy.

“you, ah- weren’t supposed to see this.”

your throat tightens, and oikawa finally turns around.

and oh,

he looks awful. eyes tired, eyebags hanging, smile plastered on and barely there.

“why didn't you tell me?” you ask softly.

oikawa shrugs like you're not even there, not worth talking to you. his shoulders hang low, drooping. “didn't really feel like talking.”

“you.. disappeared.”

“sorry.” he says lightly, like it doesn't matter.

you step closer, footstep sounding loudly against the wooden floorboards and state, “you lost one match.” not gentle.

his jaw tightens, eyes fiery. “it wasn't just one match.”

right. of course it wasn't.

for him, volleyball is everything.

you suddenly remember all those late night calls, all the pressure he puts on himself every single day, all the moments where he'd laugh something off before changing the subject too quickly. all the times he acted overly confident like he was trying to convince himself just as much as everyone else. that maybe, just maybe, if he stopped moving for even a second, everything would finally catch up to him.

then, quietly, he murmurs, “i'm so tired.”

and oikawa never says things like that. he complains dramatically all the time, sure, but never seriously. never in a way that sounds this honest. this exhausted.

you don't know what to do. standing there suddenly feels awkward, and maybe you shouldn't have come after all, like maybe this is something private and ugly and painful and hurting that he never wanted you seeing. 

but then he laughs again under his breath, except it still sounds wrong, jagged around the edges, and you realise he's waiting for you to treat this like a joke so he can pretend he's fine again.

instead, you walk toward him slowly until you're close enough to see how his shoulders shaking.

his eyes flick up to yours, surprised. 

you could melt, drown in them and be happy. 

so before you can think too hard about it, you wrap your arms around him.

oikawa goes completely still like his brain short circuited, like he wasn't expecting comfort from you at all. you can feel the sharp inhale he takes against your shoulder, and for one horrible second you wonder if you crossed a line.

then his arms wrap around you, leaning in and burying his head into your shoulder.

he's still shaking.

you close your eyes. “hey,” you mumble quietly.

he lets out this weak little laugh, muffled into your shoulder. “don't. this is kinda embarrassing for me.”

“i don't care.”

“i do.”

“good thing this isn't about you then.” you wince; maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. 

thankfully, another laugh escapes him at that, and he doesn't let go. if anything, oikawa's grip tightens more, fingers bunching in the back of your hoodie like he's afraid you'll disappear if he loosens his hold even slightly.

the gym is completely silent around the two of you now except for the faint buzzing of the overhead lights.

after a long moment, he says in a tiny voice, “i really wanted to win.”

and god, that hurts.

he feels so painfully human. just a boy who wanted something so badly and still couldn't reach it.

you embrace him tighter. “i know.”

he exhales shakily. “i hate losing.”

“i know.”

another pause. then he mutters against your shoulder, again. “oh, you're gonna think i'm pathetic after this.”

you pull back immediately just enough to glare up at him. “don't say that.”

“i'm serious. i'm literally standing here having a breakdown over volleyball.”

“yeah,” you answer, frowning. “because it matters to you.”

his expression shifts. the exhaustion is still there, heavy under his eyes, but something else slips through now too. surprise, maybe. or relief. like he expected you to brush this off the same way he always tries to.

instead you're still here.

oikawa stares at you for a long minute before speaking again. “you came all the way here.”

you blink. “obviously.”

“why obviously?”

you open your mouth automatically, ready to answer, but nothing comes out.

why obviously?

because hearing he lost made your stomach drop.

because the thought of him sitting here alone hurt worse than it should have.

because over the last few months, he somehow became the first person you want to tell things to. the first notification you look for when your phone lights up. the person you think about constantly without even trying or wanting to.

because somewhere along the way, you fell in love with him.

oh.

oh no.

your face must give something away because his entire face changes.

“l/n-chan?”

you can’t breathe properly all of a sudden.

this is bad.

actually terrifying.

because what if you ruin this? what if you care too much? what if all the flirting and jokes meant more to you than they ever did to him?

“hey,” he says again.

oikawa's hand lifts hesitantly, fingertips brushing against your sleeve as if he's not fully sure you'll let him.

“what happened?”

you stare at him helplessly, and apparently that's enough.

his eyes widen slightly before cracking in a way that completely wrecks you.

“oh,” is the only thing that comes out, his mouth an ‘o’ shape.

“don't,” you blurt out before he can say anything else.

oikawa blinks. “don't what?”

“make it weird.”

“make what weird?”

you gesture vaguely between the two of you, mortified. “this.”

oikawa merely looks at you. then the corners of his mouth lift a little.

“a bit too little too late for that.” ayo laufey reference

your throat burns, and it hurts to swallow. “oikawa–”

“i think i started liking you the first time you insulted me.”

now it's your turn to stare at him. “huh?”

he smiles weakly. “you called me grandma.”

despite everything, a laugh bubbles out of you. “that's your romantic origin story?”

“don't judge me,” he mutters. “i was charmed. you were charming.”

you shake your head, still laughing breathlessly, and when you do something in his expression relaxes. maybe he was nervous too, and that maybe he thought imagined the whole thing.

oikawa reaches for you again, giving you enough time to pull away if you want to.

you don't.

his arms wrap around you, almost cautiously now, like you're something fragile in his eyes. you can hear his heartbeat through his thin shirt, fast enough to make warmth spread through your chest.

“hey,” he murmurs into your hair after a while. “are you.. crying?”

“no, shut up.”

“this might be the best day of my life.”

you laugh wetly into his chest. “you're so annoying.”

“yeah,” he says gently, tilting your chin up to gaze into your eyes. “but you like me anyway.”

when oikawa pulls back, he's smiling properly for the first time since you got there. tired still, but smiling. his eyes flick down toward your mouth for a split second before darting back up again, and he looks.. nervous.

is he.. is he going to–

“..can i kiss you,” oikawa asks carefully, “or are you gonna bite me.”

you blink at him in disbelief. “that is genuinely the worst thing you could've said.”

“sorry,” he says immediately. “i got i want to kiss you disease.”

you snort, heart melting on the spot at the same time.

because this is oikawa. loud, confident, obnoxious oikawa who flirts with literally everyone without blinking. and somehow, he's standing in front of you looking like the answer really matters to him.

so before you can overthink it anymore, you grab the front of his hoodie and kiss him.

he makes a startled sound against your mouth before kissing you back instantly, one hand coming up to cup your face like he's scared you'll disappear halfway through it.

truthfully, a kiss worthy of the fairytales.

and when you pull away, oikawa's staring at you like he just won the lottery.

“wow,” he breathes. “i- wow.”

you point a warning finger at him. “don't start.”

“you're literally in love with me.”

“you love me more though.”

oikawa's grin widens so fast, almost blinding.

“hey, y/n-chan?”

“what.”

“remember when you hoped i wasn't a forty five year old man?”

you groan so loudly it echoes through the gym, and oikawa laughs hard enough that he has to lean against you to stay standing. 

hearing that sound again feels like finally being able to breathe.

you wake up to your phone vibrating nonstop against your mattress. you're surprised it isn't leaping into the air.

still half asleep, you blindly grab it, fumbling and squinting at the brightness.

tooru 🤍 good morning my amazingly amazing significant other >’v’< hm that sounds off sorry sorry good morning situationship  that sounds worse actually ignore that you're not my situationship.. i love you good morning love of my life  good morning DARLING ;))

you drop your face back into your pillow, groaning. he’s so endearing.

another text follows.

tooru 🤍 HELLO??? are you ignoring me this relationship is so toxic you oh my god shut up why are you awake tooru 🤍 i’m experiencing great joy and whimsy! darling you reacted 😐 to this message you tone it down a little tooru 🤍 never

dating oikawa turns out to be exactly as exhausting – in a good way — as you expected, now that he’s officially decided you're his person.

he gets dramatically offended if you take too long to answer texts (“i’m your top priority!”) he throws himself across your shoulders whenever he sees you after practice like he's been separated from you for years instead of six hours (“reunited at last!”). he complains constantly that you ‘don’t compliment him enough’, despite the fact you called him beautiful once and he looked so emotional about it for the rest of the day.

but there are quieter things too, things he does without noticing.

saving the seat next to him automatically, and walking on the outside of the sidewalk. tugging you closer absentmindedly whenever crowds get too big like it’s second nature, and falling asleep on calls because he says your voice helps him unwind and relax after practice.

one afternoon, while you're sitting across from oikawa in a café, you zone out so badly you don't even realise he's talking to you until he flicks your forehead lightly.

“ow? what was that for??”

“you're doing the thing again,” oikawa replies, chin in his hands and elbows propped on the table as he gazes at you with those eyes you could drown in.

you blink twice. “what thing?”

“the overthinking thing!”

“uh, that’s not helpful at all,” you grin, amused, stirring your tea. the scent wafts up, drifting into your nose, and you inhale deeply.

“is it not true?”

oikawa reaches across the table, hooking his fingers loosely around yours. he’s been doing that quite a lot lately. 

“what’s going on in that scary little brain?” he asks, tracing little shapes onto the back of your hand. imagine he wrote will you marry me lmao

you hesitate before shrugging nonchalantly. “nothing.”

oikawa frowns, stopping his thumb movements and causing you to jut out your bottom lip. “you know you don't always have to do that, right?”

“do what?”

“pretend everything's fine before you've figured out if it actually is.”

you look away toward the café window, a little annoyed.

“you do that too. and i just don't wanna ruin stuff.”

“ruin what stuff? y/n, darling-”

you gesture between the two of you.

oikawa stares at you for a second before snorting.

you narrow your eyes at him. “tooru. what now?”

“sorry,” he says, already laughing. “i just remembered you literally texted me because a forty-five-year-old blocked you.”

you groan, drawing it out as you thud your head down on the table. “can you stop reminding me? my gosh, that was ages ago.”

“and now we’re here.”

his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles.

“you're not gonna ruin us, idiot.”

us.

like there's never been another option.

a week later, you discover he has screenshots of your texts saved.

“YOU SAVED THESE?”

oikawa, sprawled comfortably across your bed, looks completely unashamed. “of course i did!”

“why.”

“because they’re cute, why else?”

“they are not cute.”

he gasps dramatically before turning on his phone and reading one aloud.

“‘go away you're literally annoying.’ wow. true romance right there.”

you immediately lunge for his phone while he yelps and nearly falls off the bed cackling.

“give it!”

“never!”

“tooru–”

“wait wait, this one's my favorite.” his voice softens slightly while he reads. “‘text me when you get home okay?’”

you stop moving. you remember sending that, late at night after practice when he sounded exhausted over the phone and you got worried.

but you didn't realise how much it meant to him.

oikawa glances up at you with his stupidly fond little smile.

“that was one of the first times i thought i was completely screwed.”

whenever oikawa has a game, he never directly asks you to come. instead, he send things like:

tooru 🤍 match tomorrow btw you okay tooru 🤍 okay??? thats all??? you good luck? tooru 🤍 woah i can really feel the support you reacted 😊 to this message

it's worth it, though, when you show up regardless, and his entire face lights up as he spots you in the stands.

like he's surprised someone came for him specifically, even though he has a million fangirls that giggle his name.

oikawa only cares about you.

naturally, iwaizumi talks to you first about it.

one day after practice he falls into step beside you while oikawa's distracted arguing with kyotani, probably about something stupid.

“thanks,” iwaizumi says suddenly.

your brow furrows, and you turn your head. “er- for what?”

“for dealing with him.”

you snicker. “that sounds concerning.”

“oh, you have no idea.” he has an exasperated expression on his face, but then it shifts. “he's happier lately.”

before you can answer, oikawa appears out of nowhere and throws himself dramatically over your shoulders.

“iwa-chan, are you talking shit about me?”

“always.” iwaizumi deadpans.

oikawa gasps mockingly. “fake friend.”

“shittykawa.”

“shittyzumi.” then oikawa turns to you pleadingly. “save me.”

“nah. go on, iwaizumi. how many others you got?”

“no!”

it's funny how one stupid, impulsive text at two in the morning somehow flipped your entire life around – now your days are full of him. oikawa. your boyfriend. it still feels surreal to say.

his voice. his laugh. his constant whining. his hand finding yours automatically.

oikawa loves loudly, openly, like he's physically incapable of hiding it. he talks about you constantly, drapes himself all over you every chance he gets, looks at you like you're the best thing he’s ever found.

one night after practice, the two of you end up lying on the floor of his bedroom while he complains dramatically about training.

“i'm dying,” oikawa groans, letting his long legs flop over your stomach.

“you said that half an hour ago.” you half-heartedly attempt to push his legs off, to no avail.

“it's a slow death.”

you snort quietly, glancing over at him. his hair's still damp from his shower and there's a bruise forming near his knee. 

you reach over and brush your fingers lightly against his hand, and he immediately intertwines your fingers together without even opening his eyes.

automatic, like breathing.

“hey,” he says after a minute.

“hm?”

oikawa lowers his arm to stare at you properly before smiling brightly.

“thanks for texting me after. imagine if you’d only texted the forty five year ol–”

you burst out into a fit of laughter. “oh my god–”

he grins sleepily before rubbing his thumb absentmindedly across your knuckles just like he likes to do.

“seriously, though,” he says more softly. “meeting you kinda changed everything for me.”

pursing your lips, you murmur, “that's disgustingly cheesy.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. for me too, though.”

“aww.”

you squeeze his hand tighter, smiling helplessly. “good thing you answered, then.”

“best decision i've ever made.” followed by, because he physically cannot stay serious for more than ten consecutive seconds:

“also, thank goodness i'm hot.”

you grumble and shove his face away while he laughs hard enough to nearly fall onto the floor completely. sadly, he didn't and his heavy as fuck legs are still laying on you.

tooru 🤍 i love you my number neighbour you i love you too my number neighbour that isn’t the forty five year old man 😚 tooru 🤍 you ruined it 😠 you EMOJI tooru 🤍 so what anyway what if i text MY other number neighbour you oikaw fucking tooru tooru 🤍 OKAY you liked this message

“tooru?”

“yes, my darling?” 

“why are we texting when we're right next to eachother?”

oikawa smirks at you. “romance.”

i wrote this on google docs so the quotation marks look so different.. but anyway fucking hell that was a ride to write!! sorry, kat. i tried to make it 6.7k words for you but there was so much i wanted to fit in there so it ended up um exceeding that by 2k 😚

© akaashiit

the rest of the morning feels horrible for everybody. an obvious damper in the air as no one is feeling energized or static enough to proceed with the rest of the day’s practice.

if it wasn’t so sunny outside, hinata swears, he could hear thunder and lightning flashing so dramatically.

“obviously we’re all not feeling great this morning.” meian starts, addressing everyone on the team as they all huddle around each other. “some more than others.”

atsumu sees the pointed look his team captain gives him. he does his best to look to the side and ignore it.

“but, regionals are coming up, and that means i need everyones heads to be in the game.”

atsumu knows he hasn’t been the best teammate today, but can they really blame him? he wasn’t just picking on them for no reason. the serves really were weak and the timing and the tempos of the plays were just plain subpar.

if he was in a good mood, then fine, sure, maybe, he would have relayed those criticisms better, be gentler and nicer.

but tough shit, because today, he’s not.

today, he is in an awful, horrible, terrible mood, and the team’s below-average play was just making everything worse.

“so, why don’t we all take a break?” meian’s voice cuts him out of his slump, and for the first time all morning, his shoulders pick up a bit in anticipation. “how does thirty minutes sound?”

thirty minutes sounds great – fantastic, even.

but not for him to take a break, no - no way. there’s absolutely no time for that.

because right now, as meian speaks (so awfully slow, atsumu thinks) you are currently 15 minutes away from his gym stadium, tucked away in an opera theatre with one of your classmates, watching a performance you’re assigned to write an essay on.

and usually, he’s cool with things like that, it’s normal for you to go on university trips with your friends. your major takes you all over japan for the amount of assignments it has you accomplishing, after all.

but for some reason, this time he’s not. this time he can’t be cool with it.

this time it gets under his nerves so much that it just about makes him want to explode at a wall.

this time you aren’t with the friends he’s met before. this time you’re with someone new, someone assigned to watch the show with you, and it’ll be someone he’s never met, just the two of you there, in the theatre, in the dark, alone.

he’d yell at a floor if he could.

now, he isn’t a jealous person. he really, really, really isn’t.

and when you both left the house this morning, he’d given you a kiss on the cheek with his usual sly grin, an i love you to start the day, and a promise that he’d pick you up when he can.

but the second you left his sight, it was like it all suddenly hit him.

you. a guy. alone. in a theatre.

you were basically going on a date.

and that puts a very, very awful taste in his mouth.

“alright you rats,” meian sighs as he takes a look at the team he’s talking to, no one seemingly paying attention anymore after the minute he said ‘break’, “be back in thirty. i mean it.”

and that was all the cue atsumu needed to hear. one second he’s breaking from the team huddle, and the next he’s bolting out the door.

“be back in thirty or it’s diving drills for all of you!”

atsumu glances on his wristwatch as he runs, he’s got about thirty minutes on the clock and you’re about fifteen minutes away from him by foot. he didn’t bring his car today and really, just from the practice alone this morning, his heart rate is already up by a dozen.

he can’t afford to slow down now. so, he’ll just have to run faster.

this is fine — better than yelling at the floor, at least.

“so, how about that performance, huh?”

you look up from your watch as your classmate’s voice cuts through your thoughts. he’s standing to your right, awkwardly distanced, but a decent amount of feet away that he’s not so close.

is it bad that you don’t remember his name?

“it was okay.” you give him a polite smile, scratching your cheek in instinct as you make polite conversation.

“i thought it died down a bit during that final part though.”

“i noticed that too,” he gives you a smile back, “it did lose momentum.”

the conversation is very polite, quiet, riddled with pointless small talk to make up for the painful awkwardness wafting in the air.

you’ve got half a thought in the back of your mind to make up some lame excuse to just suddenly leave and go, but you still kinda feel a little bit sorry for the guy for being stuck with you on this project.

(plus there was that whole forgetting-his-name thing that something tells you you should feel guilty about.)

curse you, randomly assigned project partners.

despite having shared classes with mr. nameless over here and seeing him around campus a handful of times, the two of you never really interacted until this morning when you both met up for this theatre watching project.

you’d mentioned it to your husband in passing, and halfheartedly expected him to make a fuss about it, especially when you told him that it’d be another guy you were partnered with, but much to your surprise, he’s taken it pretty coolly ( a feat you weren’t aware he was capable of ).

now though, as the show just ended and the two of you wait in front of the theatre for the next bus to arrive, the air is filled with a thick awkward silence that you hope when the bus does come, it goes in the complete opposite direction of where he’s headed to.

you’d almost feel bad for the guy for having to withstand such awkwardness if it wasn’t for the fact that you hoped he’d just walk away and leave.

“you wouldn’t happen to be free after this, would you?”

the silence comes to an end when he turns to you, hand on the back of his neck, cheeks slightly flushed.

so much for just walking away and leaving.

his voice seems quieter now, less whole, and he’s pretty much looking at every other thing except for you, “i just noticed that it’s around lunch now and well, maybe we could grab some food together and continue discussing the show?”

now, you wish the bus would arrive and just run you down on the spot.

what do you even say? surely, not his name, you can’t even remember it.

if atsumu was here right now, he would absolutely lose his shit, maybe even yell, or cause a scene, but that’d be enough to rescue you from this highschool confession scene about to unravel, but he’s not and he’s busy and far away and–

“hey, did i miss the show or sum’n?”

you blink. was your husband a genie or something? suddenly appearing out of nowhere each time your little heart calls for him?

“tsumu?” you’re more excited than surprised, “what’re you doing here?”

instead of answering you, your very sweaty husband turns to look at the guy you’re with instead. the very guy who’s been tormenting him all morning in that sweaty little head of his.

he is so not impressed.

“miya atsumu,” he says suddenly, almost scoffing, and he wipes the sweat from his forehead as he straightens his posture, and with that same sweaty hand of his, he extends it out for your classmate to shake. “nice to meet ya.”

your classmate gives you a nervous laugh, looking at you more than the odd and suspiciously sweaty man in front of him.

he asks, smile breaking a little bit, “miya?”

“yup.” atsumu replies bluntly, and he’s got that punchable smirk of his on his face again, “miya.”

where was that bus when you needed it?

“nice to meet you too.” your classmate gives him a short reply, that same polite smile he gave you earlier now appearing not-so confident, and he grimaces slightly as he shakes your husband’s hand.

you try not to laugh — it wouldn’t be polite.

the next bus is forgotten though after that gruesome little handshake as your poor, poor classmate suddenly gets a text from - apparently - his mother, asking him to walk back home right this instant.

you tell him you understand and that it’s okay and that you hope he gets home safe.

and you both ignore the fact that his phone has been in his pocket this entire time, and that neither of you saw him get any text at all.

really, you owe him for putting him through such awkwardness, but when you remember his name, you’ll remember to return the favor.

once he leaves — rather hurriedly — it’s just the two of you now, you and your very sweaty husband.

“hey, what’re you doing here?” you ask him for real thus time, less surprised now and more pleased to see him so suddenly, “did you finish already?”

atsumu finally gives his attention on you, and just like magic (genie magic?) his sly and obnoxious demeanor changes into something so much more familiar.

he deflates a little bit, now that it’s just you around, and you’re grateful that the cool japan air has dried down most of his sweat before he envelops you in a hug.

“nope.” atsumu shakes his head, melting away in your embrace, “meian gave us a thirty minute break, i thought i’d swing by.”

you push him off, and you tilt your head at him, brow raising, “but it’s more than a mile away?”

“yeah.” he gives you a nervous laugh and his ears pink up just a little bit, “yer telling me.”

so, maybe, he didn’t take it as coolly as you had initially thought. maybe you did marry a very jealous man who would run over a mile to come see you.

but that’s okay too, because your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at that fact.

“does this have anything to do with the text sakusa sent me earlier?” you give him a knowing look, smile teasing.

“depends.” atsumu squints his eyes. “whadd’he say?”

“something along the lines of “help. come. right now.”, does that make any sense at all to you?” you raise a brow, and you cross your arms over your chest as you ask.

“nope. not at all.”

“oh, you are evil when you’re jealous.”

“i am so not jealous.”

“you so are.”

it’s easy to tease him when he’s like this. all flustered and pink in the ears, and the toothy smile on his face makes you forget that he could ever be seen as anything remotely close to scary or intimidating.

you give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “thanks for coming to see me.”

“i did it all for my sake.” he tells you, scratching the back of his neck, “sorry.”

“reminds me, shouldn’t you be getting back by now?”

atsumu takes a quick look at his watch, it’s almost that thirty minute mark meian gave him for his break, and he knows, all too well, that he’ll get another earful of it when he gets back.

you see him look worried for a moment.

not to say that he wouldn’t deserve it. he knows now — now that he isn’t blinded with all consuming jealousy — that fine, maybe, maybe, he might’ve been an asshole today.

but he’s back to himself now, and he really didn’t want to do any of those diving drills.

“come on, let’s go back now, i’ll come with you.” you take his hand in yours as you tug him to make a progressive step.

he perks up a little bit, “you will?”

“well, you need all the help you can get sweet talking everyone back into believing you haven’t been a jackass to them all morning.”