You storm through the halls, your skirts trailing behind you, the whistle of the stiff linings over the floors the only sound as the servants flatten themselves against the walls and the out-and-about nobles scramble into their apartments and out of your way. Your spine is stiff, your face serene.

Your fate was decided before you were born. Upon arriving in the world, your every trait was analyzed for compatibility with his. You were raised, nearly designed, to be his perfect match.

Thousands of years of tradition culminated here. Your marriage had been arranged, an aristocratic girl handed from her own family to the crown prince (future emperor always seemed to echo behind the words), a perfect match on paper.

Tooru finds that you are a far different kind of match off the page. Blazing but nearly flickering out of reach each time the flame comes close to licking his fingers, rekindling whenever he thinks you've finally gone out. Brilliant, his brain supplies as you enter his room, the wind supplying a satisfying boom for drama. He squashes the thought in favor of trying to look appropriately innocent. His efforts are in vain, and he knows it.

"Wife," he greets you, while you stare at him with narrowed eyes. You don't respond, only stalking closer. His full lips pull into a wolf’s grin. "Beloved. Sweetness."

"Highness," you say, so icily and so informally he’s sure one of your former etiquette instructors must fall over dead wherever they are. “I received a missive from you this morning.”

“Did you?”

Blasphemous it may be to admit, but he is a man of many faults. One of these: he has a hot temper, and full freedom to act upon it.

You do not hate him as you once did, when you were first wed and he had, in his resentment of his family and his position, lashed out at you as the most obvious symbol of his loss of youthful freedom. When he had failed to consider that you were less than happy yourself to be locked in a union with a man you didn’t know; didn’t want; didn’t love.

Tooru is older now, and wiser (though not by much, Iwaizumi says). He, of all people, is not exempt from the whims of fate. Between lightning strikes, he fell in love with you.

He hopes you no longer hate him. He can never be sure.

“I have been dismissed,” and for all the arguing you’ve done with him, there’s an odd quaver in your voice that he’s never heard before. “From the imperial court. I am free to-to travel, whether it be to another hall or another island, and to seek companionship elsewhere, wherever I may choose to settle.”

“If you so choose,” he repeats his own penned words, turning away from you. His curtains are drawn, though it is late in the day. He does not spend much time in his private rooms, unless it is with you. “Though I must ask you be discreet. It is, unfortunately, a necessity—”

“I will do no such thing,” you snarl. He jerks his head back in surprise. “I may not be what you had hoped for in a partner, but I will not be disloyal of all things. Though I’m sure you will not spend a moment’s thought on me while I am away, I assure you any image you may conjure of my cavorting with another would be pure fantasy."

"Fantasy," he scoffs, can feel his own face spasm against his will at the thought.

"Oh—!" You seem unsure what to do with your hands, settling for clenching them into fists at your sides. "Are you jealous?"

"No," he denies. He lies. He, who has the world at his fingertips, is so consumed by jealousy at all times, by his desire to have you all to himself. He burns.

"Tell me the truth. Speak freely, as a man and not a god-king.” He nods, features twisting into something ugly, ugly, ugly.

“What do you wish for me to say?” His voice is brittle, his temper bound only by a thin string. “Yes, I am jealous. The sight of you with another man might kill me, if I didn’t kill him first. Though it might surprise you, I do care for you, beyond seeing you as some sort of-of possession. So I’m sending you away, giving you a chance to escape this fucking farcical marriage, to do as you wish, to find love as I have—as I have loved you.” The words die an abrupt death in his throat as your eyes round, then glisten.

“Loved me?” An accusation or a question. He swallows around his traitorous tongue, grinding out his response.

“I do.” The weight of those two words is smoke in a sickroom, a weighted coffin in the sea. He sounds wrecked when next he speaks, and looks it too, eyes red and mouth split. “So I am ordering you, as a prince and not as your husband, to go and be happy, and I am begging you, selfishly, to do it where I cannot follow.”

It occurs to you to remind him that there is no such place, but you don’t wish to spit on the bones beneath the words. He will not follow. He is offering you the truest freedom he can.

“You say you’re begging me,” you tap your chin, an empress to the core. “Then why are you not on your knees?”

His eyes narrow. You expect a slap, an execution order, anything you had been warned all your life would come from such total insubordination.

Instead, his right knee bends, then his left. The bones pop, as though in protest, as though he had never before done what he did now.

From the floor, Oikawa Tooru looks up at you with all the love he is capable of and says: “Leave me.”

You drop to your knees, crashing into the floor, uncaring of your garments or his, and take his face in your hands. The first tear spills from his eye, a diamond you crush beneath your thumb.

“I cannot do both,” you say, trying very hard to be gentle. “To ask me to leave to find love would tear me in two. If I were never to look on you again, I would never see the only man I could ever love.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, “don’t sacrifice yourself for duty’s sake.”

“I’m not,” his eyes search your face wonderingly. “Let me stay. Let me stay, and prove it to you.”

“Only if it is what you want,” he insists. “You need not—” You silence him, pressing your lips to his. You are—inexpert, desperate, perfect. He closes his eyes and anchors himself on your shore, his hands the only part of him that’s sure as he takes yours.

“Let me show you all the ways I love you,” you repeat, and Tooru nods. You smile when he does, and the sky splits open above you.

He senses it before he wakes, opening his eyes to the weak sun in the early morning. There’s been a shift in the wind and his muscles are sore. He doesn’t mind it; the mark of work well done.

He can see it, feel it, as you wake, eyes fluttering open to rest on his face.

To say your nerves are getting the best of you would be an understatement as you change your outfit for the twentieth time in the past five minutes. Everything just seems wrong to wear on a date, even if it's just dinner and a movie with a guy in your chemistry class.

He was super sweet when he asked you out by text message, but you weren't sure you were really feeling it.

But being a college student with exactly zero dating experience is kind of a turn off in your opinion. But your desire for the experience and your lack of ill will towards your classmate made you want to at least give him the benefit of the doubt and see what happens.

Wait, what even is supposed to happen on a first date?

Would he want to kiss you?

Does he expect anything more than that?

At times like these, your lack of experience really does come back to haunt you. The idea of possibly losing your first kiss to somebody you don’t feel attracted to is frightening. But you feel like you don't have a good enough reason to skip out on the date.

With a sigh you start the process of getting ready even though you don't have to meet your date at the bar for a few more hours. The Two of you plan on just throwing some darts and playing pool at a popular dive bar on campus. The fact that you don't have to be completely alone with this boy is a relief.

Propping yourself in the bathroom to wash your face and ready yourself you hear the jingling of keys in your lock. You don't have a roommate but you have an inkling that you know who it is. Your suspicions are confirmed when you see the flowing brown locks belonging to your best friend come in through your door. Tooru Oikawa has been your friend for years, but you’ve only grown closer since moving to the city.

“Y/n! I brought you something sweet,” he says holding up a carrier of smoothies from one of your favorite spots on campus.

“Tooru," you sigh looking at his smirking face "tell me again why I gave you a key?”

“Because, you have excellent taste." he giggles handing you your drink and taking a big sip from his own. Leaning up against the counter he turns and takes in your appearance. “Why are you getting dressed up so nice? Are you going on a date or something?”

You glance down at the pattern on the bathroom tiles “Yeah, I guess I am. Is that so hard to believe?” you mumble flicking the bright pink straw with your finger tips. He looks as if there is a protest on the tip of his tongue but he holds himself back.

He takes a minute before he decides to answer you "No, not at all." he says "You just don't sound all too excited about it.”

“It's not that," you say stirring the drink absent-mindedly "I'm just nervous, I've never been on a date before. So I don't know what he is going to expect.”

“I see,” he says as his chocolate orbs stare holes through you. He's quiet for a moment before speaking again, "For starters, If you're not into him then you can tell him so. You shouldn't force yourself to do something if you are not feeling it."

"It's a little too late for that," you say thinking about all the pressure you have gotten to go out with your classmate initially. "But I'm okay with just trying to keep things as non-romantic as possible."

"Poor guy," he says ruffling your freshly styled hair. You try and swat his hand away but the only thing it does is mess up your hair more.

"Thanks for that" you scoff as your fingers try to fix the out-of-place strands. In the mirror, you analyze your reflection before drifting your eyes over to his lips. The soft peach color looks enticing as you wonder if your date's lips would look just like them.

“Actually, Tooru. There is something I want to ask you.”

“What is it? Do you want me to stalk your date at the bar?” he teases with a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

Not wanting to beat around the bush you blurt it out quickly. “You kiss a lot of people right?

He has the audacity to look shocked “What’s that supposed to mean, I can’t help being popular and handsome~ Ow why did you hit me.”

"I had to bring you back down to earth before your ego got too big." you say "It's what Iwaizumi would've done if he was here."

"But you are not Iwa-channn" he whines "you're my cute little y/n your not supposed to hit me."

"Sorry" you try to shrug but the smile blossoming in the corners of your lips gives you away.

"I can't stay mad at you when you smile like that." he says "What did you want to ask me?"

Taking a deep breath you look at him before averting your eyes to the floor. "It's nothing," you say, like a coward.

"Speechless I see," he coo's "I have that effect on people."

Turning around you stare at him "Don't make me hit you again." you threaten mockingly as he sticks his tongue out at you.

Tooru is normally so chatty but now he is quieter than normal. You try to fix the hair he messed up earlier but it's too awkward to focus on anything.

"Is something wrong?" you ask looking over to where he is lounging on your bed.

"Why would it be?" he answers

"You're quiet, I was just wondering why," you say walking over to him and sitting next to him on the comforter.

He takes a deep breath and looks at you, the sorrow apparent in his eyes. "I need to do something, Please don't hate me."

Just as you are about to speak he crashes his mouth onto yours, Your eyes open wide in shock as electricity courses through your body making you tingle all over. Tooru Oikawa, your best friend is currently kissing you... and it feels...Amazing.

Your eyes flutter shut as he deepens the kiss hungrily stealing all the breath from your lungs, his lips still tasting of smoothie as he sighs in relief at your enthusiastic response.

He pulls away way too soon for your liking and you want more than anything to pull him close to you by his collar but you can't bring yourself to do you.

"You're cute when you pout y/n." he says softly, "I really think you're cute all the time."

"Do you really ?" you gasp as he nods shyly as if his tongue wasn't in your mouth moments ago.

Something in your chest feels lighter as you look at him next to you, You have always thought he was attractive and hardworking, but you always assumed he wanted to keep things platonic between the two of you so whatever little crush you had on him had to be hidden in some neglected corner of your heart. But now that he has bridged the gap between your feelings and thoughts that attraction has returned tenfold.

Cupping your cheek with his hand he looks at you as if you yourself had hung the stars in the night sky. "you don't need to go on that date anymore y/n. You have always had me."

~

You shake your head to snap out of it. “What are we celebrating then, Tooru?”

“Nothing, babe.”

By the look on his face, it sure doesn’t look like ‘nothing’. You give him a pointed look and he laughs, like he’s enjoying every second of your irritation.

The restaurant is filled with quiet, murmuring guests. You, on the other hand, want to yell at your boyfriend for springing this on you after your stressful day.

Just before you decide to indulge in some good old socially unacceptable wailing, he decides to respond with a little more information.

“I just wanted to treat you.”

You look at him obtusely. Maybe he is the sweetest boyfriend. Maybe you should be nicer. Maybe it is just a casual date night. Maybe-

“Wait. Is this because of my promotion at work?” you gasp, a bit too loudly for a swanky restaurant like this. You glance around at the other occupied tables and the tasteful interiors adorning the room, as if the guests and the decor would engage in gossip about you two.

His smile droops into a pout. “Yeah. You’re no fun, you know?”

The first dishes of the tasting menu are placed on the table and the wine is poured generously.

“Tooru, I just got a small promotion. You don’t have to do all this for me.”

You look down at your plate. It’s painstakingly detailed and unbelievably gorgeous. All for a tiny promotion.

“You deserve both, the promotion and this small treat.”

“We have different definitions of small.”

“We sure do,” Oikawa winks at you while taking a sip of the wine.

He points at your plate, urging you to start. You indulge.

A few hours later, your stomach is warm with food, drink and perhaps something stronger (perhaps something like love). You wait by the entrance, leaning into Oikawa’s side, as the valet brings the car out to the front.

It’s chilly, the start of winter nipping at your nose as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. It’s warm in his embrace. You’re forced to separate from your personal heat source when you get into the car, but at least you’re not out in the open air anymore.

Once you're both seated, you're hardly able to keep your glassy eyes open.

"I had a really bad day at work," you mumble, voice wavering.

Oikawa pets your head knowingly, and you give in to exhaustion.

The ride back home seems endlessly long and surprisingly short at the same time, as you slip in and out of slumber. You don’t even realize that you’re standing in front of your door until Oikawa asks you for the key.

“You have it,” you mumble, hands already outstretched and ready to probe Oikawa’s comically large coat pockets. You’ve always found them funny and even now, you giggle as you feel past the angora wool fabric. Oikawa goes as stiff as a board. His hands come down over yours, but your hands have already latched onto the very object he didn’t want you to find.

“Tooru-” You don’t say anything else. Your wide eyes say enough.

A velvet box. There's silver lettering engraved on the top, pretty enough to catch one's eye but your attention is fixed on Oikawa. He looks devastated.

The gears in your head turn slowly. He wanted to propose. Was that what the dinner was actually for?

You frown as you let it fall back into his pocket. He didn't propose though. He must've backed out. You weren't supposed to find it. You weren't supposed to find out.

You can't look at him. He's saying something in your ear, nudging his nose against your chin like he's always done, but you can't hear him over the pounding of your heart.

The door still stands locked. You need to sit down. Oikawa's cupping your face, eyebrows worriedly cinched together, saying your name over and over again.

You point at the doorknob, desperate to get into the comfort of your home. He obliges.

Once you're in, you make a beeline for the bathroom. The tears that had only threatened to escape earlier, now fall freely.

Heavy footsteps follow. He slips into the bathroom with you, hands never leaving your side, as you sob into his chest.

There's more than enough space for the two of you but the walls seem to close in on you.

"Tooru, you don't need to-" You take in a deep breath, shuddering at the way your chest heaves.

He doesn't say a word, simply continuing to rub your back warmly. Up and down, up and down, until you can breathe comfortably.

He seats you at the edge of the sink, letting you lean into his side for support. Wordlessly, he wets a hand towel and brings it to your face. He wipes your tear-streaked face, watching you carefully.

You can't look at him. You fix your gaze on the tiled floor, noticing that he's still wearing his shoes. He must've not had time to take them off.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, the first thing he's said to you since you entered your home.

You don't have it in you to respond, so you nod.

"Do you want anything? Chocolates? Some hot ramen?"

You shake your head.

He isn't convinced. "I'll order something."

He moves to the door and without much thought, you clasp his wrist before he can leave. He stops in his tracks.

"You don't have to do anything. Please don't."

"I want to."

The words come tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them. "You want to take care of the person that you don't want to marry?"

He shakes his head, his brown locks falling to the front. "I do want to marry you."

"You didn't propose though. You obviously planned to, but- I don't know. You don't want to anymore?"

He lowers himself to his haunches, forcing you to meet his eyes instead of staring at the floor.

"I wanted to ask after dinner. I thought that we could go to the park near my old apartment," he says as he wrings his fingers, an old habit springing up from nervousness.

He pushes himself to a standing position, and then continues, "That was where you fell head over heels in love with me, right?"

You sniffle, giving him the satisfaction of a garbled laugh. You can't believe he remembers that spot. It was where he had asked you out, after you had visited his apartment to pick up something a friend had left behind. His room was beyond messy so he had sneaked you away to the lush park nearby and then sweetly asked you on a date.

"And then?"

"And then, I'd go down on one knee. You know, the whole dramatic thing."

You roll your eyes, giggling.

"I didn't do it tonight because you were exhausted. You couldn't even keep your eyes open in the car. What if you fell asleep while I was proposing? You would've broken my heart." He laughs to himself.

He places the wet towel on the side. "It was just bad timing."

You hum in agreement.

He looks away to hide the blush colouring his cheeks, like he did years ago at the park. "I'm assuming that you would've said yes."

That really gets you. You pull him closer by the belt loops and place a kiss on his nose. "If I wasn't asleep by then, I would've said yes."

He scoffs humorously. "Ha, I would agree to marry you even if I was asleep."

An hour later, he goes down on one knee. He's in his favourite pajamas and you're tucking yourself into bed. The velvet box makes a reappearance and you get to see the ring for the first time.

All your drowsiness melts into surprise as he sleepily murmurs the big question, a lazy smile on his face.

"Say it again," he whispers.

"Yes."

"Again."

"I love you. Yes, yes, yes."