eden.

ushijima wakatoshi wasn’t a man of pda, you knew that much. it’s not that he shied away from it per se, he just... was taught to value modesty.

and that’s exactly how you got here, sitting across from him as dishes upon dishes were served on your table. steamers of xiao long bao were placed before you as he paused from eating his hot garlic ribs to thank your server.

“wakatoshi, you ordered too much... it’s only our first date as a couple,” you say, concern furrowing your brows as you looked at the table.

“that is precisely why i ordered a lot. plus, i just finished a match and i’m quite hungry. i hope you don’t mind,” he deadpans before adding a meek, “is it not to your liking?”

...well, as meek as one ushijima wakatoshi can be, anyway.

you two had just come from one of his matches and to no one’s surprise, shiratorizawa won yet again. as a reward, you offered to grab dinner with him at his favorite foreign restaurant, but you seemed to have forgotten a major key detail— wakatoshi was used to living in luxury. you’ve never even heard of this place before, that’s how fancy and niche it was.

“no, no. it’s fine! it’s your celebration, after all,” you reassure him, hoping he doesn’t take notice of your... mood.

“our celebration,” he corrects. brown eyes hold your gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were in trouble. “you finally said yes to me after months of courtship. i apologize if my schedule has not allowed me to take you out on a proper date prior to this.”

was it getting hot in here? you feel like melting under his stare. why is he so naturally intimidating?

“it’s okay. i’ve been a little busy too with requirements and whatnot,” you shy away from his eyes and begin eating.

except... oh, you don’t like that.

the flavors are too much, and your mouth feels like it’s going to explode with how powerful the taste is. did you accidentally order from the spicy section?!

ushijima must have detected your slight internal panic, because he immediately asks, “is everything okay?”

you cough out, putting on a fake smile as you nod. “mhm, all good!”

“are you certain..? you look... flustered.”

god, there he was again. wakatoshi, you’re scaring me!! you mentally yell.

“...okay, i’ve never... been here before so i just ordered whatever i thought was the most basic option on the menu.” your eyes avoid his, feeling small before him. “sorry,” you feel like a loser. hopefully he doesn’t break up with you for this.

“ah. i wish you had said that sooner. i would have explained their food and helped you choose.”

wakatoshi eyes the table before wordlessly rearranging the sequence of the dishes. he takes your plate and moves the steamer of the xiao long baos in front of you, then gently places your original dish to the xlb’s previous spot. he takes off the lid and takes one dumpling for himself.

“these are soup dumplings. i picked your favorite meat, so you should have no problem eating them,” he bites his dumpling into half as the soup leaks out from the center and into his spoon. “see?”

you look at him, then down at the dumplings before taking one for yourself and mimicking his actions. “mmh...” you nod, “that’s actually pretty good.”

“do you mind if i eat your...”

you nod enthusiastically before he can even finish. “take it, take it. i love the dumplings. woah. can i have more?”

ushijima chuckles, his chest letting out guttural breaths as his lips curved into a smile. “of course. eat as much as you’d like.”

needless to say, you and wakatoshi will definitely be coming back. who knows, maybe it could even be the start of a tradition.

atsumu post-match &&& bokuto post-match

bf! kenma kozume who uses your selfies as his icons on every single platform available. steam, codm, you name it, you’re on it.

bf! kenma kozume who edits his in game avatars to look like you because “your face is satisfying to look at.” he then proceeds to throw a fit when “you” flirt with one of the love interests available, immediately hopping off the game and finding his place in your arms.

bf! kenma kozume who boosts you everywhere. your friends wonder how you reached platinum in valorant when you can barely manage to get double digit kills. your nickname in your discord server is literally “single digits.”

bf! kenma kozume who isn’t scared of getting his account banned, so long as he defends you from the misogynistic, lame weirdos who trashtalk you. he once got banned from chat for a month.

bf! kenma kozume who has the worst luck in gacha games, so when his favorite character’s banner drops, he immediately goes to your house to make you pull.

you and kenma had mutually agreed on a private relationship prior to being a couple, so he has absolutely no idea what to say when kuroo confronts him.

“kenma, who’s that girl in your profile picture?”

the man in question only coughs, looking around uncomfortably as he looks for a way to change the subject.

the two of you were currently doing your respective tasks in your room— kenma is gaming on your pc while you sit beside him, reading a book. your headset was cheap, making it easy for you to hear everything going on in the call.

“i, uhh...”

“what, is she an idol or something?”

oof. kuroo’s not letting up, is he?

your boyfriend’s gaze finds yours, the internal panic evident in his eyes. what’s that one old saying? eyes are a window to the soul?

you chuckle as you watch him, and kenma hmph’s at your dismissal.

kuroo speaks up again, interrupting the silence. “is she from a porno...? you can tell me, man.”

you barely hold back a fit of laughter as kenma stutters, “wha— no?! how’d you even come to that conclusion? you’re weird, kuroo!”

“just saying, bro. if you’re that secretive over her, you must be ashamed of how you discovered her. i mean, i’m not judgin’, you know,” he chuckles, setting up the bait. only thing left to do is wait for kenma to bite.

but kenma’s too smart for that. well, not really. if it were up to him, he’d have been screaming in kuroo’s ears right now about how absolutely pure and beautiful you are, and how he could never, ever be secretive over you. but, to his dismay, he remembers your agreement, mentally cursing himself for even agreeing in the first place.

you were his. his wonderful, utterly kind, other worldly beautiful love of his life. the object of all his desires, and the owner of his heart, body, and soul. why shouldn’t he show you off?!

you cave. in a matter of mere seconds, the headset goes from kenma’s head to yours as you speak against the mic, “i’m his girlfriend. you must be kuroo?”

on the other end, you can hear kuroo’s grunt of disbelief. kenma?! his anti social best friend who only ever talked to like, three people including him?! THAT guy managed to bag someone as pretty as you?! well, not to be condescending, but it simply doesn’t make sense! he doesn’t even go outside!

kenma grunts too, taking the headset back. his voice is calm again, back to its original octave. “kuroo, you there?”

“man, to be honest, i just thought you wanted to catfish people!”

contrary to popular belief, osamu miya is not any better than his twin brother, especially when he’s with you.

this must be your fourth date this month, and it’s barely even two weeks in. so, in order to save money, osamu proposes a little life hack. a cheat code, if you will.

“baby, i got this ring at a pawn shop,” he takes a small, rusty ring from his pocket and presents it to you as he continues, “i’ll pretend i’m proposin’ to ya and all ya gotta say is yes, okay? free dinner, easy peasy.”

you sigh, holding back your laughter as you pinch your temple. “‘samu, that’s unethical.”

“whaaaat? no way, come on, baby. we’ll get to go on dates more often if we do this,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t say yes. you should be the angel in this scenario, guiding him towards the right path. the path of the just and the good.

...but then again, why would osamu date you if you weren’t at least a tiny bit similar in terms of thinking?

“fine.”

“hells yeah!” he celebrates, looking around and waiting for one of the staff members to enter your vicinity. luckily, it doesn’t take long until a blonde girl walks to the table next to yours and starts cleaning up the leftover dishes the previous party has left behind.

osamu looks at you, grinning before he gets off the chair and gets on his knee. you cup your mouth with both your hands, seemingly in shock; though in reality, you’re doing it to prevent yourself from laughing like a madman.

“my sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend. i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

and the restaurants’ guests just eat. it. up. the crowd cheers, much like how they do in his games, and they chant “yes, yes, yes!”

“yes!” you burst out in laughter, jolting out of your seat and hugging him. he lifts you up slightly before putting you back to the ground and kissing you, lips soft and at your mercy.

osamu puts a ring on your finger as the crowd yells and howls, and later that night, the manager approaches the two of you and tells you not to worry about the bill.

atsumu’s been rubbing off on your boyfriend too much.

and so this becomes a ritual, though you’re both careful not to overuse it. you reserve it for anniversaries and small celebrations, like his team winning a big tournament or you getting a high score from a grumpy professor.

and though it doesn’t always work, you guys at least get a little dessert on the house.

until one day, when you’re a high end, fancy restaurant. you’re wearing a silk, red dress with so much jewelry, you’re practically shining. the chandelier lights reflect off of his rolex watch, and you both have just finished eating.

“this place is really good, osamu. we should come here more often.” you take a sip of the wine, drinking in delight.

“yeah... hey babe, what’s that?” he points behind you and you turn immediately in curiosity.

“...huh? ‘samu, i don’t see anything,” you turn back around to face him, but lo and behold, osamu miya is down on one knee.

your eyes look around in shock, clearly taken aback. “wha— babe, we didn’t plan this?!”

“i know,” he chuckles, pulling out a ring similar to the one he bought at the pawn shop, except brighter, cleaner. with more diamonds than you could ever even imagine. “my love, i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

sure is a good thing osamu’s got practice.

needless to say, yuji itadori was every girl’s type. handsome, funny, kind— yuji was the type of boy you wouldn’t hesitate to bring home. mothers loved him, children adored him, and you? well... you loved him. at least that’s what he tells himself every night before he goes to bed.

you and yuji had known each other since you were children. he had grown accustomed to your habits and your fussy attitude. both your families have always known you two were made for each other. from the second you’d met, you clicked immediately. yuji’s first reason. because his mind simply didn’t believe that you two weren’t fated for each other. you went to the same school, rode the same bus, lived in the same neighborhood, were classmates for years, and you were even in the same friend group, not to mention how everyone expected you to be the perfect, untouchable couple. the two of you were meant to know each other. the universe was practically shoving you together. it simply didn’t make sense for whatever higher being or supernatural force it was, to set all that up, only for the two of you to not end up together.

and so came yuji’s second reason. you were all he’d ever known. honestly, he thought you were all he’d ever need to know. the more time you spend with someone, the harder it is to imagine your life without them, and so naturally, yuji thought you were his. for a lifetime. for this lifetime. in retrospect, he sees how stupid it is. but he was fifteen and dumb, and so were you. so he doesn’t blame you for it— more like he can’t. because yuji itadori, the gentleman that he is, could never hate you.

which is exactly what yuji’s third reason is. he simply doesn’t have an ounce of hatred in his perfectly chiseled bones, and certainly not for you. no matter how hard his friends convinced him that you were bad for him, that you were toxic, that you were this and that, yuji’s mind simply did not function like that. he believed that if you truly loved a person, that love would stay within you always. maybe it’d get smaller, or perhaps get buried with all the love you have for other things, but love wasn’t something you could get rid of. his understanding of love was that similar of a scar; imperfect, yes, yet resilient. timeless, if you will, because to love is to endure and feel and wait. and wait, he did. for 6 years, yuji waited. he practically gave you his youth.

and so on your 18th birthday, he finally musters up the courage. he’d ask you out. the stars shone brightly as they decorated the evening sky, the breeze dancing around the two of you as you both sat up on the rooftop of your house. 12:32 AM. yuji sighs.

“i like you.”

“...i know.”

“do you...”

“i can’t give you what you want, ‘ji.” your voice cuts through like a knife, and despite the message, yuji hopes. he clings onto the use of his nickname like his life depends on it. slowly, subconsciously, he looks at your face for traces of familiarity. not love, neither adoration, just... plain familiarity.

he comes short.

“i get that.” yuji looks down, fidgeting with his fingers. he lied. he doesn’t get it, but yuji’s nothing if not a gentleman. he’d rather lie than put you in an awkward position. “i just figured...” he trails, ending up in a scoff. “figured i’d at least try, you know?”

and finally, you look at him. tears well up in his waterline as his gaze avoids yours. if you look closely enough, you can see his heart breaking and God, you never meant for it to come to this. you let out a shaky breath as you wrap your arms around him, unable to speak.

yuji shrugs your arms off, giving you a slight chuckle. “i’m good, i’m good. sorry, i just...”

“no, come on, ‘ji. don’t be difficult. let me console you,” and there it is again— that stupid, stupid, stupid term of endearment. you wrap your arms around him once more, bringing your bodies closer together, only this time, yuji can’t find it in himself to reject you. he lets you hug him as he sniffs, clearing his throat. he tries his hardest to pull himself together.

“i’m really sorry—”

“shh, shh. don’t worry about that right now.” you lay your head against his back as he slouches, pressing your cheek against the warm, navy blue hoodie of his that he wears like a uniform. “but you do know why i’m doing this, yeah?”

he nods, eyes finally meeting yours for the first time tonight as he looks back at you. “you’re not ready.”

you bite your lip, gaze lowering almost in shame. “everything i touch turns to ashes,” you say, “i can’t lose you like i have everything else.”

yuji knew all too well about your constant attempts at self sabotage. truthfully, it was one of the things you loved most about him. despite everything, he stayed. despite everything, he chose to understand and love you.

because love is a choice, and yuji itadori wakes up everyday to choose you.

“you could never lose me,” he says.

“this way, i won’t have to.” you blink up at him, lips wobbling as you start to tear up.

“for what it’s worth, ‘ji, if i could choose anyone, it’d be you.”

you love it when your boyfriend gets sick.

kita shinsuke is very very very healthy, so he rarely ever does. but on the rare chance that it happens, you’re all over the moon.

pale lips cough against you as you cup his face, kita shifting back to consciousness as he looks up at you.

“you’re hot, shin,” you say, concern lacing your tone as your brows furrow, covering up the excitement bubbling within you.

the man in question only nuzzles up to you, closing his eyes. “you smooth talker.”

“no, literally. are you feeling sick?”

“...” he opens his eyes now, seemingly avoiding your gaze. “well... i have been feeling a little under the weather, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“no!” you almost yell. “i mean— no. um... i’ll grab the thermometer. you stay here, okay?”

“...okay?”

and rush, you do. you grab the thermometer, already plotting your next scheme.

“okay, baby, your temperature is... thirty eight point four,” you sigh, caressing his cheek. “looks like you’ll have to stay home and let me take care of you for the whole day.”

and kita chuckles, because of course that was what you were after. “oh, is that so?”

“mhm. so i’ll go ahead and make you some breakfast, we can eat together and you can drink some pills, okay?”

“you’re enjoying this too much, aren’t you?”

“you never let me baby you!” you whine in defense, hand travelling to his chest as you feel his heart beat against your palm.

shinsuke looks down, placing his hand atop yours before looking back up at you, his gaze hinting.

“how ‘bout i just give you a baby, instead?”

a/n : i was going to post this in parts but i didn’t want to compromise anything so here you guys go!!! one of the scenes was posted a bit earlier as a sneak peek so you might recognize that!

word count : 1.6k

prompt : finally getting everything you ever wanted only for it to be taken right from your grasp. angst with a happy ending.

disclaimer : english is not my first nor second language so please be patient! if you spot errors or typos, feel free to comment :) thank you!

the summer breeze passes you by as you stand, your hair dancing with the wind as you overlook your alma mater’s campus behind you. nostalgia washes over you, memories of your youth that you so desperately tried to bury coming back.

approximately a decade ago, you stood in this exact spot with nanami kento, who, at the time, served as the light in your life.

you experienced all the horrors the world had to offer, but kento never once faltered. despite facing all those said horrors head-on, he remained kind-hearted, carrying out his tasks with a smile.

and you don’t know when you first started loving him, but it must be around your third year of junior high school when your love for nanami kento truly blossomed, manifesting in ways that, in retrospect, were not so subtle.

but kento was taught to be a gentleman through and through, and so his modesty translated into a sense of denseness.

everyone knew it except for him. your upperclassmen especially, noticed your favoritism and even made teasing remarks about it, but with nanami, it all went through one ear and out the other. he brushed it all off, claiming that your special treatment came from a place of familiarity, because you’d known each other for far longer.

and so began your little game of cat and mouse.

“kei, do you ever think about how strange it is that we've never fought?” you ask, limbs tangled with his as you cuddle on his bed.

it’s 10:03 PM and you’re doing your best to fight against the chilling, icy atmosphere of tsukishima’s room. for some reason, he likes to sleep like a vampire.

“do you want to?” he offers with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. tsukki doesn’t even open his eyes when he responds, too sleepy to entertain another one of your late night overthinking sessions.

“no,” you say calmly, “but we’ve been together for 7 months. we must either be like, the greatest couple of all time or the exact opposite.”

you feel his chest rise and deflate against your head as he lets an overly dramatic sigh.

you knew tsukishima kei wasn’t one for pda. hell, it was one of the things you loved about him. he knew how to make you feel loved without having to scream it to the world.

like that one time on one of your first dates, when you had accidentally fallen asleep on the soft grass of the park while waiting for his weekend practice to end. you woke up with a hand massaging your scalp.

“how long have you been waiting there?” you giggle, rising from your slumber as you rub your eyes awake. he pulls away, casually avoiding your gaze. “why didn’t you wake me?”

kei only shrugs, “you looked peaceful.”

or that other time you got sick for a week and couldn’t make it to school, so he immediately visited you as soon as you got better and brought his backpack with him.

“i got two copies of all the homeworks due next week, so you don’t have to ask the teachers for them.” he unpacks his notes and fishes out two pens from his bag before turning to you. “come, i’ll teach you everything you missed.”

your teachers praised you for how responsible you were, and told you how much they appreciated that you took the initiative to study.

yeah, you totally did that.

or like right now, and all the other nights you’ve spent at his place. because unbeknownst to you, tsukishima kei sets up his bedroom every single time you visit. he tidies up, cleaning even spots that you would never think to look at. but most importantly, and tsukishima knows this routine by heart, he turns the a/c to the highest setting so you’d be forced to cuddle against him underneath his sheets.

“the former,” is all replies with, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“but seriously though. how lucky are we to never have fought even after seven months.”

tsukki sighs again, before reluctantly revealing, “we don’t fight because i make it a point to always agree with you.”

you’re taken aback by his words, sitting up slightly as you look him in the eyes, though his are still closed as he tries to focus on sleeping.

“...huh?”

“idiot,” he teases. maybe he thinks calling you names will cover up for how unbelievably sweet he’s being right now, “why would i want to argue with you?” he shifts, trying to subtly move his face away so you don’t see him fully.

“but i can’t always have my way, you know. a relationship should be 50/50, right?”

“not ours.” he presses your head back against his chest, and you hear his heartbeat fasten a little. “you’re the boss.”

BONUS: “and you’ve never paid in your life anyway. you don’t believe in that 50/50 bullshit.” “hey!” “i don’t even know what your wallet looks like.”

kento nanami was a man of unwavering patience and little indulgence. every decision, no matter how small, was carefully well thought out, so you were surprised when he proposed to you after only 3 years and 7 months.

as waves of sunlight illuminated your face, kento sat up in bed with a pen and a newspaper, his bare back against the headboard as he pushed up his glasses. he clears his throat when he feels you shuffle awake, one of his hands snaking its way into your hair.

“good morning, sweetheart.” his voice is husky, clearly just having come from slumber.

you groan against him, nuzzling into the sides of his torso, your cheeks resting against his abs, “good morning to the most wonderful man in the world.”

“you flatter me, my love.” he chuckles against you, and if it were up to nanami, he’d stay in this moment forever, the snug fit of your body against his aiding the sun in warming him up. he snaps the newspaper straight, directing your attention to the item in his hand.

“what’s that?” you ask, closing your eyes and pressing yourself further, as if magnetized.

“today’s word search. would you like to help me?”

you groan, sighing as you pull yourself together and force your eyelids open. you rub your eyes and yawn, mirroring his posture as you sit up and rest your head against his shoulder.

that’s when you see it.

the encircled words: me, my, marry, will, love.

“my love, will you marry me?”

ushijima wakatoshi is not a man of many words, and when he does talk, he comes across as pretty blunt. but it’s not with ill intent; he means well, he’s just so brutally honest sometimes, which is why you immediately shut down when you hear the words “i don’t like you,” escape his lips.

your classes had just ended, and it’s a friday afternoon when you finally work up the courage to confess to the man who stands before you. the cherry blossoms around you dance in the air, painting a romantic, picture perfect scene between the two of you. your arms are outstretched as you present to him your favorite brand of chocolates.

“i…” you look down in disappointment, avoiding his gaze as much as you could, as if it’d miraculously hide you from him.

“i don’t understand you one bit,” he says, his monotone voice unwavering.

you’re thankful you didn’t bring any of your friends along. this was humiliation at its finest. on the bright side though, it’s a friday and you don’t have any classes after. so you’re free to cry your eyes out and curl up in bed as much as you want.

but these thoughts of yours do little to distract you from the moment, and your eyes can’t help but water a little as you look down and take a shivery breath.

“i asked tendou about you.”

that catches your attention, and suddenly you’re taking a deep breath as you look up in shock. he asked tendou?! now that’s going to spread throughout the entire school!

the tears resting on your eyes reflect the golden sun above. your brows furrow in confusion, and if it stuns wakatoshi, he sure as hell doesn’t show it. “why are you tearing up? you did not even let me finish before crying.”

“what else is there to say, ushijima?” the use of his last name sends a small shock through his veins, and yet ushijima still remains unmoved. “you don’t like m—”

you’re quickly interrupted when he speaks, saying “there it is again.”

and you scoff, because he’s not listening. but maybe you should, so you look behind to see just what he was referring to, but nothing’s there.

“what are you—”

“i feel strange whenever i’m around you.” he interrupts again, before clearing his throat and quickly apologizing. “i’m sorry, i did not mean… you can continue.”

“wait, no, what?” you scoff again in disbelief, brows furrowing as your eyes fidget around, searching for something that can help you understand just what the hell ushijima was talking about.

“when you looked up at me with teary eyes, i felt a pang in my chest,” he says, before continuing like he was explaining his symptoms to the doctor, “and when you referred to me as my last name.”

and finally, ushijima’s unwavering confidence almost looks like it falters as he looks away, breathing an exhale. he speaks again, tone finally somehow… softening. “i feel a different pang though when you visit my practice matches and cheer me on…”

no way. you made the ushijima wakatoshi shy? japan’s number one best ace?

he must be rambling, he thinks, but regardless, if wakatoshi hurt you, he wants to apologize and make up for it. starting by explaining. so, he dismisses his thoughts and continues.

“but, more specifically, i asked tendou why i felt irritated when i saw you tutoring that boy in your class,” he finally looks at you now, confidence returning as he tilts his head slightly to the left, “i have a crush on you too, it seems.”

you’re at a loss for words. because, didn’t he just say, moments prior, that he doesn’t like you?!

“i do not, however, like sweets.”

and you let out a chuckle as you bring your hands up to your chest. maybe it hasn’t fully sinked in, because you still can’t talk.

“i do not understand you because you make me feel all these emotions. and i don’t like what i don’t understand, but…”

ushijima brings his hands to yours, taking the chocolate as he opens it. he takes a bite, and there’s a faint hint of pink in his cheeks.

“there are a few exceptions in life.”

and then you see it. the man before you isn’t ushijima wakatoshi, japan’s top one best ace. it’s wakatoshi, your wakatoshi, whose biggest enemy is the concept of emotions.

bokuto koutaro wasn’t your boyfriend. no, he was your baby. your six foot one baby who somehow found his way into your arms right after winning their game, securing their spot in the upcoming summer regional semifinals.

“kou, you’re all sweaty!” you whine, genuinely trying your hardest to push him away. but alas, your efforts die in vain as he squeezes himself into you tighter.

“mhh, don’t know who you’re talking to. my name is baby.” he mutters against your neck, nuzzling further as if trying to get lost in your skin.

you sigh in defeat, reluctantly complying as you speak. “okay, fine. i’m sorry, baby. can you please get off me now?”

bokuto mirrors you, sighing in return as he pulls away with a pout. he looks at you, big, upturned eyes almost pleading. he opens his mouth to speak, but is immediately silenced when a towel meets his face.

your soft hands wipe at his face, then up to his hairline. he leans into your touch like a lonely kitten, and you giggle at the sight.

“baby, i want—” he’s interrupted once again when you tilt his face upwards, drying off his neck as you pat him dry. “i want a new set of legos.”

“we just got lego last week, baby. don’t you want anything else?” you ask, turning him around and drying his back, your hands dancing underneath his jersey.

you feel all tenseness leave bokuto’s body as he groans against you, his posture softening a little. “hot wheels?” he asks, looking back with those golden eyes you so deeply adored.

“hot wheels it is, then, my love.”

and you can only imagine his response to the new pet name.

you cheer and clap from the stands as atsumu miya secures the last point of the game, finishing the set and winning the match for his team. the crowd roars, his school’s chant echoing throughout the venue. atsumu’s teammates pool around him as they celebrate their win, the boys forming a circle within themselves.

but his mind is occupied with the pretty girl he sees in the corner of his eye— you. he pulls away, muttering a quick “give me a second” to no one in particular.

he walks to you, head held high and he can’t help but puff his chest and shoulders a little bit. just a little.

“what’s a girl like you doin’ all alone?” he asks, and some of his teammates a few feet away yell. honestly, you’re not even sure if they’re cheering him on or booing him, but you do hear a whistle from behind.

light breaths of air escape your lips as you giggle, “i’m here for my boyfriend.”

and he scoffs, the smug bastard. “i don’t see him anywhere. looks like you’re all mine for tonight.” calloused hands reach over to you, his arms flexing subtly at the tenseness built up over the game.

“hmm, i don’t know…” you look down, swaying ever so slightly as you put up a bashful pretense.

the blonde laughs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he traps you in an embrace. “you ‘nd your games,” he says, kissing your forehead.

you squeal and pull away to no avail, his large arms wrapping around you like a blanket. “you started it! ‘tsumu, you’re all sweaty!” you drag out the last syllable, half teasing. it was true, his jersey was halfway wet like he’d been caught in the rain.

“shhh, stop resisting. your boyfriend might see.” atsumu teases, all while continuing to pepper you with kisses. the noise from the crowd and his teammates are blocked out, atsumu’s world limiting itself to you and him only.

a pretty girl and a championship. looks like atsumu’s going home with two victories tonight.

you didn’t know how this happened. it’s 11:27 on a wednesday night, and your shared apartment is cold and empty. stars illuminate the quiet sky and beam through your floor-to-ceiling windows. how beautiful, you think, and what a privilege it is to fall asleep to this sight every night.

what a privilege, indeed. but for every blessing God gives, He expects something in return. He is not all benevolent, must not be all altruistic. because if God truly is as kind as the priests sing, if He is as charitable and unselfish and whatever other synonym there is for good, He wouldn’t have let you hurt like this.

well… maybe you do know when it started. the minor insults were always there, had you cared enough to look. like thorns on a rose, because how can beauty exist without suffering?

for tsukishima’s sake, though, you dismissed whatever suffering came your way. because for a love as great as yours, you’d go through anything. because for tsukishima kei, the man you’ve loved since before you even knew what love meant, there was nothing you wouldn’t do.

and maybe deep down, you know it’s wrong to blame God for the situation you’re in. if you reached deeper, searched further into your core, you’ll find it in yourself to admit that this was a grave of your own doing.

you never did learn how to feel without it consuming you, body and soul.

but when the universe sees that you’re ready to give up everything for one thing, it takes away the only thing you’re not willing to let go of.

it just so happened that it was tsukishima’s love.

so here you are, tucked in bed, teeth brushed and in your pajamas. the bed is half empty. it has been for 2 months.

except unlike his side of the bed, tsukishima’s love for you faltered slowly, little by little. as if it weren’t happening at all.