resluvv

⋆.𐙚 ̊. TSUKISHIMA KEI, he wonders, is he still just an innocent teenage boy in your eyes?

Tsukishima has always wondered how it’s so easy to fall asleep during breaktime in school.

He knows that breaktime is when the devils are released, which means it’s the loudest, because the entire school is free from classes. Certain people like Hinata and Kageyama… He swears, he can hear their voices from afar, bickering with each other.

At home, he’s known to be a light-sleeper. He gets riled up easily by the tiniest of voices, which requires him to wear headphones to sleep sometimes. Not too much, his brother warns him that he might suffer from hearing loss one day.

“You’re not going on lunch break?”

You approach him the moment the bell rings, offering him a small grin. You do that to everyone, coming up to people, having short conversations in means of being friendly.

Tsukishima doesn’t get why you enjoy talking to him. He’s a boring person, and gives short, blunt replies. Being a people-pleaser isn’t in Tsukishima’s books.

“No, I went for the first,” Yet, he still discovers himself trying his best to elongate his words when conversing with you. Just a little, teeny-tiny bit, compared to usual. Perhaps, it’s because you are the only one he finds slightly tolerable, except for Yamaguchi.

You hum as a reply. Then, Tsukishima hears the squeaking of shoes against the floor tiles, and later, doesn’t hear anything else anymore. The classroom goes entirely quiet, and he takes it as a sign to have his well-deserved rest. A daily routine of his.

Forming a criss-cross shape with his arms, he lays his head sideways, facing the wall. Gradually, his eyelids flutter closed, lulling him into a sweet, peaceful slumber.

He thinks he has gotten more than enough sleep from last night, because he ends up waking up earlier than his expected time.

However, before he shifts his head up, the loud footsteps approach his classroom, and he decides to lie down for a while more. Class might be starting soon anyway, he can slot in a few more minutes of rest.

But then, he nearly perks up when your voice enters the room.

“Guys, how about we talk outside instead?” You say in a tone, so soft, it sounds like a light breeze, but Tsukishima can still hear your words as clear as day, “I don’t wanna wake up Kei. He’s been looking tired the whole day.”

Tsukishima’s breath hitches.

“You’re such a caring person, Y/N. Sure there’s nothing else going on between you and him?” Your friend teases you, which earns a few chuckles that slowly fade into the distance. You’ve probably pushed them outside while being in a red fit of bashfulness.

For the first time, the image of your flustered expression pops up in Tsukishima’s mind. He imagines how you’re fiddling with your fingers, words stumbling out of your lips as your tongue twists. He also thinks of how you might be fighting for your life outside, while your friends continue to add oil to the fire.

Tsukishima can’t stop thinking about you.

And he most certainly can’t stop holding your voice close to his heart.

Kei.

To him, you call him Tsukishima. To teachers, you call him Tsukishima. To friends, you also call him Tsukishima.

When he’s absent, do you call him Kei to everyone? How long have you been calling him by his first name, without him knowing? Why do you never call him that when you’re in front of him?

And, why does he care so much about this?

Tsukishima buries his head deeper inside his make-shift arm pillow. The warmth doesn’t aid in the rise of temperature he feels on his face. In fact, it exacerbates the situation. He can’t look up either. His classmates might take notice of him, and it’s the last thing he wants to happen.

Class starts, Tsukishima pushes the thought to the back of his head, thinking of it as a temporary fixation.

Tsukishima tries his best to focus on the syllabus, but the lesson floods his mind, and exits out of the other ear. Your voice is the only thing on his mind now. It has become a giant, towering wave, washing away the unnecessary debris that enters his head.

You have become all he can think of, infiltrating every corner of his life, despite his initial denial.

Which is why, when the time comes, Tsukishima is walking you home for the first time.

Volleyball practice has just ended a few minutes ago, and it's also the first time you've seen him play, too. So, he plays like his life depends on it. Blocking every ball that stands in his way, soaring high above the net, standing tall like a wall, he hopes one day, you can depend on too.

The sky paints a beautiful hue of pink, and the sunlight drapes over you like a blanket, kissing your skin gently.

Tsukishima doesn’t tell anyone about it, how he heard you calling his given name when you thought he was asleep. Not even Yamaguchi, nor his brother. He keeps it to himself, until today, when he lets the long-awaited words slip out of his lips.

“You can start calling me Kei.”

“Huh?”

It’s pristine and clear. Tsukishima doesn’t want to be just Tsukishima to you anymore.

He wants to become something more than that, and it shows on his face, with dusted pink skin, similar to the tint of the skies, all across his skin.

“Stupid, what I mean is…” He takes a step closer to you, just like how you have stepped into his heart, effortlessly, “I want you to start looking at me as a man.”

⋆.𐙚 ̊. SUNA RINTAROU, he's walking on clouds, and nothing else can take away the joy you give him.

It starts with a normal after-school hangout with the three second-years.

However, due to a certain blond getting food poisoning from eating overnight dumplings, the Miyas couldn’t attend the hangout. As quoted by Osamu, “This scrub keeps sayin’ he’s gonna die and apparently, all of a sudden, he can see the light. So sorry y’all.”

The hangout becomes cancelled, what fun is there without the Miya’s providing free entertainment?

Suna proves you otherwise.

He brings you to a photobooth, where the two of you choose stupid hats for each other. You pick out an octopus one, with the tentacles falling off his head. It doesn’t do a single bit of justice for Suna’s good looks, but he looks like he’s enjoying this too much.

Because the hat he chooses for you is the most hideous thing you’ve seen on earth.

“I’m not wearing this.”

“I think you make a good ostrich,” He proceeds to plop the hat on you, where a pink ostrich rises from the base of the hat with a funny expression.

When the two of you enter the photobooth, something shifts.

He leans in close to your side, like never before, to the point where his shoulder is touching yours. You steal a glance at him, the word ‘unbothered’ written all across his face.

Gulping heavily, you try your best to pay no attention to it, and cover it up with a smile to the camera.

Then, he takes you to a lake, and teaches you about skipping stones, where you have to toss pebbles, making them bounce across the water's surface.

It turns into a competition, filled with endless bickering and laughter. You sabotage him multiple times, which ends up with him being the loser. He rolls his eyes, saying, “Cheater cheater pants on fire.”

“I think that’s the wrong way to say it.”

He huffs, “I don’t care.”

The day ends with him walking you back home under a peaceful sunset. A classic epilogue to a romance novel, except… the two of you are only friends.

Just friends.

It echoes in Suna’s mind like a mantra, a reminder that claws at the back of his mind.

The walk back is as silent as ever, with Suna beside you. You don’t notice, but he purposely makes his steps smaller, so he’s walking at the same pace as you, like how he always does, no matter where you are.

Suna likes staying close to you, and it’s clear that he likes it when he drops you off at your house, lingering a bit too long at the front gate with you. His hands are stuck inside his pockets, and his bag is slung over one of his shoulders as he stands before you, a high school boy who’s just in love.

“I had a very fun time today. Maybe it’s good that Atsumu and Osamu didn’t come,” You make a light joke, chuckling, a sound that Suna dearly adores.

Suna lets his lips quirk up slightly at the side, “You’re right. They would have ruined our peace.”

Then, there’s a moment of silence. Suna has heard that his eyes are intimidating whenever he stares too hard at someone or something, but to you, his gaze falls over you with a gentleness like never before.

So, you bid farewell, and prepare to enter your house, to Suna’s despair.

However, things change when you suddenly turn around, grasping onto the straps of your bag, and look up to him with the most ethereal smile he’s ever seen.

“Oh, and… thanks for today, Rintarou.”

Suna’s world entirely stops spinning for a while. He sees flowers all over the place, and they’re at full-bloom. Butterflies are fluttering inside his stomach, slinking into his heart before swallowing it up; it forces an emergency stop to his pulsing blood, making him want to keel over.

Yet, whenever he opens his mouth to speak, he feels his heart beating at his throat, and at that moment, Suna Rintarou truly feels like he’s become the successful main character of a love story.

“You called me Rintarou.”

“Uhh, yeah?”

He sucks in a deep breath, and god, he feels so, so happy.

He’s nearly going to do a thousand jumping jacks, hundreds of his most hated burpees, but he doesn’t, and offers you his last words, “Call the emergency services, I’m about to die.”

And Suna Rintarou really pretends to faint, dropping limp onto the ground, limbs all sprawled out like a starfish, not a single worry about how he’s going to stain his white uniform, and has to stay up late washing it.

While you yell out his name in a panic and fret, a small rising smile blooms on his lips.

If he dies tomorrow, then so be it.

The world can crash and burn, but Suna Rintarou is already glad he gets to live for another day to hear your voice.

⋆.𐙚 ̊. AKAASHI KEIJI, he realises he can't live a single moment without you, you are all that he needs.

Akaashi Keiji is calm, analytical, humble, and most likely, the most flawless human to exist on this earth. He opens the door for people to enter first. He notices the small errors and won’t hesitate to fix them. He treats everyone as an equal, letting them have their own spotlight to shine.

However, Akaashi is never good at withstanding stress. When a big match comes up, he paces around the waiting room endlessly, breathing heavily. When questioned about it, he says he’s doing breathing exercises.

“You sure…? Your face looks very constipated.”

Perhaps he should be like Hinata, and take a big dump before competing, but it’s way too late for him to stop by the toilet.

“I’m fine…” Akaashi barely holds back the tremble in his voice, clasping his hands together to prevent anyone from seeing that they’re uncontrollably shaking.

Even with Bokuto being in high spirits, and everyone else motivated to crush the rival team, Akaashi still feels a certain sensation of anxiety, crawling up his back and whispering negative thoughts into his head.

Hence, when the team finally prepares to head out to the giant court, Akaashi gets blinded by the lights, the number of people on the bleachers cheering for them, and the empty spot in the middle, where he will soon stand.

Akaashi gulps nervously, standing behind the tall and confident Bokuto to hide himself from the attention.

What if he fails today? What if he can’t make a good set, and ends up leading his team to a loss? Endless thoughts run in Akaashi’s head, bumping into each other, causing a great landslide.

It’s unfortunate you can’t make it to the game today, due to having made plans with your friends beforehand.

Akaashi doesn’t mind you hanging out with friends, and he certainly doesn’t want to bother you, but the lack of your presence completely alters his mood. Whenever he’s down in the dumps, you are always there to lift him up, like a warm glow of light that embraces his fading self.

He… really wishes you had come to cheer for him.

“Hey, Akaashi!”

He doesn’t know why his mood is getting to him. Is he becoming a second Bokuto?

“Akaashi!”

He really can’t help it. He’s not at the top of his game today, so should he just run— 

“Keiji!”

Akaashi turns around almost immediately, and his eyes widen, with sudden stars that glimmer hope within them. At that moment, there’s no one else in his world, only you, and that enchanting smile of yours that effortlessly steals away his heart.

“I… I am so sorry for being late, my friends are waiting for me, but I still have to say this…” Your lips are parted, harsh breaths being panted, a sign that you have actually run, just to be with him.

Then, before he knows it, you are taking his hands in yours, just like how you’ve taken his whole life in one breath. You intertwine your fingers with his, holding them tight and close to your being—

Akaashi feels himself losing grip with reality, as he subconsciously drifts off into your existence, fusing into one with his palpitating feelings.

The final punch in the gut occurs to Akaashi when a grin dances on your lips, as you exclaim, with radiating optimism, “Good luck with your match, Keiji! I’ll be cheering for you and your team!”

Akaashi doesn’t realise the entire team behind him is throwing teasing remarks at him, nor does he notice his own hands are quivering, not from uneasiness, but from longing. And Akaashi doesn’t remember the last time he has longed for someone this much.

And so, he grasps onto that feeling, and reminds himself that it’s not a dream anymore.

Akaashi makes a promise to himself, with a beating heart, beating like it’s about to die. If he doesn’t win this match, he doesn’t deserve your heart.

“Is it just me, or did the vibe around Akaashi suddenly change?” One of his teammates comments, nudging the said boy’s shoulder with a knowing smirk.

With a subtle, genuine smile, Akaashi replies as if it’s the most natural thing in the whole world, “I am merely feeling motivated to win, I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Win. He will win this match, because you are cheering for him, and he needs nothing more than that.

Akaashi Keiji, clutching on his fists with nothing but perseverance, steps into the blazing fire for you; not as a superhero that comes in to save the day with his setter abilities, but as a desperate high school teenage boy, willing to dedicate his whole seventeen years of life to this one moment.

This one single moment that will make him feel that he’s finally, and sincerely, worthy of being yours.

the gym doors slam shut behind him, and for a few moments, semi stands there, breathing heavily and jaw clenched. he kicks lightly at the wall before forcing himself to move.

he doesn't know where to go. he would go to the music room, but he's left his guitar and home and he doesn't want to touch anyone else's. the sun is beating hot down on his skin, so he decides to go and wander the corridors.

the hallways are quiet and cool, but of course they are after school. not many people usually stayed, apart from people in clubs and such. lockers line the walls, looking empty and sad without students leaning against them, laughter and chatter replaced by the faint hum of vacant classrooms. semi shoves his hands into his pockets and walks without knowing where exactly he's going. he just lets his irritation bleed out slowly with each step.

the further he goes, the more the school halls change. sure, semi has walked past these halls many times, but he never really payed attention to them. now, that he has nothing to do, he catches how the sport posters are disappearing, replaced with student artwork taped hazardly to the walls. colourful flyers announce upcoming exhibitions and club meetings, and there's splotches of paint adorning the windows.

then his attention snags on a slightly ajar door. the art room.

semi slows. this room - he's passed it countless times and never once cared to look inside. but today, he feels drawn to it. before he can overthink it, he gently nudges open the door with his shoulder and peers inside.

the smell hits him first. it's the smell of paint and paper, and something warm, like the sunlight filtering through the windows has been trapped inside. the space is wide and cluttered, tables arranged randomly around the room. each one is a mess of brushes soaking in cloudy water, palettes smeared with color, sketchbooks left open like people had left the moment school ended. the walls are layed with murals, paper hung with charcoal sketches and paintings. in the corner are a bunch of half finished canvases on easels.

then semi spots you.

you're near the windows, back turned to him and bathed in soft afternoon light, standing in front of a canvas. your posture is relaxed but intent, brush moving with quiet confidence as you hum a familiar melody to yourself.

semi freezes in the doorway, and for the first time that day, his head is silent.

he suddenly feels too big in his gym clothes, too loud even though he isn't making a sound. semi doesn't fit here. he considers backing out, pretending he’d never wandered in, but the floor creaks under his weight.

you turn, and your eyes meet his, surprise flashing across your face before easing into something that resembles curiosity. your gaze flickers briefly to the crumpled paper in his hand, then back up.

"..uh," you say, intelligent as ever.

semi straightens like he’s been caught trespassing somewhere he shouldn't be. he lifts the crumpled slip instinctively, as if it explains his existence. "sorry," he blurts. "i didn’t know anyone was in here."

it’s a lie, sort of. he knew the second he saw you that someone was in here.

you blink, then smile a little, soft around the edges. "it’s okay. i shouldn't be surprised - i didn't lock the door." you gesture vaguely with your brush, and a streak of blue threatens to drip. you quickly angle it up so it doesn't. "are you lost?"

semi shrugs. "you could say that."

he's seen you around before. like a quiet presence, there but not quite. he doesn’t move further in, hovering by the door like a stray cat deciding whether it’s safe. you tilt your head, studying him like he's a priceless painting. the gym uniform, the way his shoulders are wound tight and tense like coiled wire.

"you’re from volleyball," you observe. "semi eita."

"unfortunately," semi replies, then winces. he isn't supposed to say that. "i mean, yeah. yeah, i am."

that earns a small snort from you. he relaxes a fraction at the sound, tension leaking out through his fingers.

"im l/n y/n. and you can come in, you know," you murmur, turning back to your canvas. "i just asked the door, and you're making it nervous." there's a trace of light humor in your tone, and semi bristles.

he takes a step inside, closing the door behind him but leaving it slightly open, just like before. his footsteps are hesitant, like he's scared the floor will open up and swallow him if he steps somewhere he isn't supposed to.

up close, he can see your canvas better. from what semi can see, it isn't finished yet. there are shapes layered over other shapes, colours bleeding into eachother to make new shades. no distinct idea as to what it is.

"what is it?" he asks bluntly before he can stop himself.

you hum, looking thoughtful. "i don't know yet."

semi frowns. "you don't know?"

"nope."

"but.. you're painting it."

"i am."

he stares at the canvas, then at the back of your head. "that seems kinda backwards, to be honest."

you grin over your shoulder. "that's what art is, semi-san."

something about that settles him, and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. the itch under his skin quiets, replaced by a dull warmth. he walks over to a nearby table and leans against it, watching you paint careful strokes over the canvas with your paintbrush before dipping it into a wooden plate sort of object.

semi hesitates. he feels like he should know what it is, but..

"what's that plate thing?" he asks sheepishly. you glance at him, confused.

"this? oh, this is a palette." you lift it up to show him, and there are a bunch of paint splotches scattered all over. some small, some big, some mixed, some pure. semi nods.

your brush moves without hesitation, even when you change colors, even when you paint over something you just did. in the gym, every mistake echoes. whistles, glares, the sharp taste of failure. especially the sharp taste of failure. here, in the calm art room, mistakes just become layers.

"did you get kicked out or something?" you ask casually, brush never faltering. semi snorts.

"is it that obvious?"

you smile. "i mean, you are holding that warning slip, so yeah."

he rubs the back of his neck, hastily shoving said slip into his gym shorts pocket. "i lost my temper a little bit. coach washijo said i needed some air."

you nod. you don't question anything else, or try to bug more details out of him. semi appreciates that - he doesn't like nosy people.

"you can stay, if you want. im usually here until the sun gives up. unless you want to go back to the gym, of course."

semi looks toward the windows. the light has shifted, softer now, dust motes floating like tiny planets. he thinks of the gym, loud and sharp and waiting for him to come back improved.

"yeah." he says after a moment. "i think i'd like to stay."

you hand him a dirty rag without looking - it's stained with thousands of colours, more than semi can name. "well, i guess you can clean brushes if you're bored." there's a hint of glee in your voice.

he takes it, surprised. "you trust me with this?"

you glance at him, eyes bright with laughter. "..it’s just paint, semi-san."

just paint.

—

semi scrubs at a brush a little too hard at first, bristles splaying, and immediately eases up, muttering a quiet apology to it under his breath. you hear it and smile to yourself, but don’t comment.

"you don’t have to fight them," you say eventually, nodding toward the brushes. "they’re already tired."

semi huffs a laugh, softer than his usual bark. "story of my life."

he rinses again, slower this time, watching the pigment unfurl in the water like ink clouds before disappearing down the drain. it’s weirdly satisfying. no replays in his head, no correcting his form after the fact. once the paint’s gone, it’s gone.

behind him, you step back from your canvas, head tilted as you assess it with scrutinising eyes. there’s a long pause. semi glances over his shoulder, half expecting frustration, maybe a sigh. instead, you merely dip your brush into a new color.

"do you ever do art?"

"no way. i can barely draw a stick figure without it looking cursed."

you shrug. "that’s fine. cursed can be interesting."

he shakes his head firmly, but there’s no bite to it. "nah. i’m more.. noise than picture."

"music?" you guess.

his hands still for half a second, wondering how you know. "yeah."

you bob your head. "hm. that makes sense."

"how?" he asks, defensive reflex flaring, then immediately regrets the edge in his tone.

you don't react to it, instead shrugging. "im not sure. you just.. kinda seem like a person who listens first."

semi pauses. that doesn't sound like him.

he doesn't know what to do with that information, so he refocuses his attention back to the sink, ears tinted pink. the brush in his hand is clean now, wooden and bare, so he sets it aside to dry.

semi finishes with the brushes and wipes his hands on a new, cleaner rag. he doesn’t know what to do next, so he just stays. leans against the counter and watches.

"you don't have to stand there like you're waiting for instructions," you say lightly.

"sorry," he says automatically, then stops himself. "i mean, right. of course."

you gesture with your chin toward a nearby table, cluttered with sketchbooks. "you can look. just don’t judge them too hard - they get shy."

semi hesitates, then wanders over and flips one open carefully. the pages are filled with loose sketches, studies of hands, faces caught mid expression, with scribbled notes in the margins. they're not perfect. roughly drawn - but semi thinks they look good like that.

"are these yours?" he asks.

"most of them. that's our shared sketchbook, but barely anyone draws in it. just me, usually."

"they're really good."

you hum in acknowledgement, but there's a pleased sort of tilt to your shoulders. "why thank you."

he flips another page, then another. something in his chest aches, quiet and unfamiliar. semi closes the sketchbook gently.

"hey," he starts, unsure why the word feels important. you look over, eyes questioning. "do you ever get mad when it doesn’t turn out right?"

you consider that carefully. "sometimes," you admit. "but then i remember it’s not done yet, so im like, okay. keep going."

semi nods slowly.

outside, the sky darkens. inside, the art room hums on, warm and comforting. semi realises that he hasn’t thought about the gym in a while, and he finds it strangely relaxing.

semi shifts on his feet, glancing at the mess of palettes and paint, then back at you. the light catches the flecks of color in your hair, and for some reason, his chest tightens.

"hey," he mutters, quieter this time. you look up, brush paused in mid air.

"hm?"

he swallows, unsure if he should even say it. "thanks. for letting me.. hang out here."

you smile, like it’s just for him. "you’re welcome," you say softly. then, after a pause, you tilt your head slightly. "i like having you here. it's nice."

"i like being here too," he admits, voice rough around the edges but honest.

your smile broadens, a brushstroke of color in the fading light. you set your palette down and, without thinking, reach up to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. semi flinches, then relaxes under your touch, feeling the faint warmth linger longer than he expects.

"is that okay?" you ask hesitantly, and semi nods quickly.

his eyes drift to the palette at your side. it's wooden, messy, and covered in dabs and swirls of color, some blended into unexpected shades. "that palette… it’s kind of like you," he says, voice low. "messy, but.. nice. makes everything look softer. if that makes sense."

you blink, then laugh softly, shaking your head. "that's very poetic, but i would expect nothing less from a musician. i think i’ll take that as a compliment." your eyes sparkle as you glance back at him. "maybe you’re a palette too, semi-san. all raw colors waiting to mix."

he swallows, heat rising in his ears. is he? maybe he is.

the two of you stand there, quiet, just breathing in the soft chaos of the room, the smell of paint and sun mixing. semi thinks that maybe getting kicked out of the gym wasn’t so bad after all - because he found this. found you.

and in that moment, the world outside - loud, sharp, demanding - fades to nothing. all that exists is the hum of the room, the faint dust in the light, and the small, steady thrum of something new stirring in his chest.

you finally pick up your brush again, and semi watches, an unspoken smile tugging at his lips. he doesn’t move, doesn’t need to. he’s exactly where he wants to be, part of this quiet, colorful palette of a moment.

hey i draw/paint why cant this happen to me

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#1 ushijima wakatoshi

ushijima was mid-jog around the campus perimeter, his mind focused on his stride, until he saw you. you were standing by a duck pond, trying to explain to a group of confused ducklings that they couldn’t eat your notebook. you were gesturing wildly at the paper, your face serious and your eyebrows knit together in a way that wakatoshi found more captivating than a national championship.

​he stopped running. his heart rate, usually a steady machine, spiked into a rhythm that made his chest ache. it wasn’t a slow burn at all, it was a forest fire. he watched you gently nudge a duckling away with your shoe, apologizing to it as you did. he felt an overwhelming, heavy pull toward you. he realized that you were the “strength” his life had been missing. you looked up, saw the stoic ace staring at you, and gave him a bright, unabashed grin.

​“you have a very kind way of communicating with nature,” ushijima said, his voice deep and vibrating with a sudden, intense sincerity. he didn’t look away, his gaze locked onto yours with a beautiful, terrifying focus. “i found myself unable to keep running because i needed to stand near you. i’m ushijima wakatoshi. i would like you to come to the botanical gardens with me this weekend. i believe i would regret it for the rest of my life if i didn’t take this chance.”

#2 soekawa jin

​soekawa was used to being the shadow, the reliable vice-captain who kept things running. then he saw you in the art gallery, standing in front of a painting of a stormy sea with a look of such profound, quiet understanding that it made his breath hitch.

​he felt a deep, grounding pull in his chest. it was a slow-building, heavy devotion. he watched you reach out as if to touch the canvas, then pull back with a shy smile. you looked so humane and so lovely. when you saw him, you offered a soft, “it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

​“it is,” soekawa said, his voice low and full of a sudden, intense yearning. he wasn’t looking at the painting; he was looking at you. “but i find the person looking at it to be much more compelling. i’m soekawa jin. and i’d be honored if you’d let me walk you through the rest of the gallery—and then to dinner. i have a feeling i could look at you for a long time and never get bored.”

#3 semi eita

​semi was walking through the music wing, humming a tune he was working on, when he saw you through a classroom window. you were sitting on a desk, wearing an oversized band shirt and trying to tune a bass guitar with a look of pained concentration.

​he felt the air leave his lungs. the way the afternoon light hit the bridge of your nose and the sheer cool-girl energy you radiated made his heart do a violent kick-turn. he’d always thought he was the one with the “edge,” but looking at you made him feel like a nervous middle-schooler. you looked up, saw the handsome guy with the salt-and-pepper hair, and gave him a playful, rock-on hand gesture. semi’s face turned a shade of pink he didn’t know he was capable of.

​“that’s a half-step flat,” he blurted out, sliding into the room like he was being pulled by a wire. he looked at you with wide, yearning eyes that betrayed how cool he was trying to act. “and honestly, my heart is currently flatlining because you’re the most incredible person i’ve ever seen. i’m semi eita. please, let me tune that for you? and then let me take you to a record store? i’m desperate for a chance to know what music you like.”

#4 ōhira reon

​reon was helping a freshman find their way to class when he saw you. you were sitting on a bench, carefully repairing a torn page in a children’s book with some tape, humming a lullaby to yourself.

​he felt a wave of warmth wash over him that made his knees weak. you were so gentle, so kind, and your hands moved with such grace. he felt a fierce, protective need to be the one who looked after you. you looked up, saw the large, kind-faced boy, and gave him a peaceful smile. “i hate to see stories get broken,” you said.

​“you have a beautiful heart,” reon said, his voice like velvet. he sat down on the edge of the bench, his gaze heavy with a deep, sweet adoration. “and i’ve just realized i want to protect that heart. i’m ōhira reon. i know we’ve only just met, but would you give me a chance to take you on a date? i’d like to hear more of those stories.”

#5 tendō satori

​tendō was humming his “break their spirits” song while skip-walking to the gym, until he saw you. you were in the hallway, reading a horror manga and eating a bag of extremely spicy chips, making the most hilarious faces of terror and delight at every page turn.

​tendō felt his guess-monster intuition scream at him. it wasn’t a prediction about a block; it was a soul-deep realization that he’d found his match. he watched you lick red dust off your thumb and felt a surge of adoration so potent it made him dizzy. you noticed the tall, red-headed boy staring at you and, instead of being creeped out, you held out the bag of chips with a challenge in your eyes.

​“oho! a challenger appears!” tendō chirped, though his voice was uncharacteristically thick with emotion. he leaned over you, his eyes shimmering with a desperate, sweet obsession. “you’re so sparkly! your aura is like a firework! i think i’ve just decided that i never want to spend a day without seeing your faces. can we be best friends? no—can i court you? please! i’ll be the most entertaining boyfriend in the world, i promise!”

#8 goshiki tsutomu

​goshiki was busy practicing his cool landing until he saw you watching from the gym balcony. you were wearing a shiratorizawa jersey that was way too big for you, and you were cheering—not for ushijima, but for him. “nice shot, future ace!” you yelled, giving him a double thumbs-up.

​goshiki’s brain exploded. he felt a surge of pride and love so intense he thought he might actually levitate. he looked up at you, his eyes wide and shimmering, and felt like he’d finally found the person he wanted to impress for the rest of his life. you laughed at his stunned expression, your eyes crinkling in a way that made him feel like he was winning everything.

​“DID YOU SEE THAT?!” he shouted, then immediately turned bright red and ran toward the stairs. he met you at the bottom, his chest heaving, his eyes locked on yours with a raw, puppy-like devotion. “you called me the ace! nobody does that! you’re… you’re the most incredible person in the universe! please, let me buy you a juice! and then let me take you on a date! i’ll become the greatest player in japan just for you! just give me one chance!”

​#9 shibata yu

​shibata was in the middle of a heavy lifting session in the gym when he saw you through the open doors. you were a manager for the kendo club, and you were currently practicing your footwork in the hallway, your movements sharp and full of a fierce, beautiful power.

​he dropped the weights. the clang! echoed, but he only had eyes for you. he felt a resonant respect and a sudden, overwhelming love for your strength. you finished your set, wiped your brow, and caught him staring. you gave him a sharp, confident smirk that made his soul leave his body.

​“your form is incredible,” shibata said, walking out to the hall with a look of pure, concentrated yearning. he was still sweaty, but he didn't care. “i’m shibata yu. and i’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you in motion. please, let me take you to a martial arts demonstration this weekend? i really need a chance to see more of what you can do.”

#10 shirabu kenjirō

​shirabu was busy being annoyed by everyone’s incompetence until he saw you in the student council room. you were methodically organizing a chaotic pile of club applications, your lips pursed and your pen moving with a cold, efficient grace that shirabu found... devastatingly attractive.

​he felt a system error in his brain. he’d spent his life looking for efficiency, but seeing you do it so perfectly made his heart hammer against his ribs in a very inefficient way. he watched you snap a binder shut with a look of triumph, and he was so hooked that he had to lean against the doorframe. you looked up, saw the sharp-eyed setter, and pushed a stack of papers toward him. “can you file these, please?”

​“only if you agree to have coffee with me,” shirabu said, his voice steady but his ears turning a bright, tell-tale crimson. he looked at you with an intensity that was almost a glare, but his eyes were full of a soft, desperate hope. “i don’t usually waste my time on people, but looking at you feels like a very important use of my time. i’m shirabu kenjirō. and i’d like a chance to show you i’m as organized as you are.”

#12 kawanishi taichi

​taichi was in his usual state of ‘vaguely bored’ until he saw you in the school greenhouse. you were wearing a giant sun hat and were currently engaged in a very heated argument with a venus flytrap about its eating habits.

​he started feeling a spark of interest that rapidly escalated into a full-blown obsession. you were funny, you were weird, and you were breathtakingly beautiful in the humid, green light. he watched you offer the plant a tiny piece of a burger patty and felt his heart do a somersault. you noticed him standing there and sheepishly adjusted your hat. “it’s a picky eater,” you whispered.

​“maybe it just wants some space,” taichi murmured, walking over and looking at you with a gaze that was uncharacteristically focused and full of quiet yearning. “but i don’t. i want to be exactly where you are. i’m taichi. and i think you’re the most fascinating person in this entire academy. would you let me take you to the cat cafe downtown? i’d really like a chance to hear more of your theories on plants.”

#13 akakura kai

​akakura was trying to look tough and mature like his upperclassmen until he saw you. you were in the school courtyard, trying to teach a stray cat how to shake hands, and you were offering it tiny pieces of a sandwich as a bribe.

his brain completely short-circuited, a surge of pure desperation hitting him so hard his legs forgot how to work for a second. you were so cute, so determined, and the way you cheered when the cat finally tapped your palm made him want to follow you forever. you saw the first-year staring and laughed. “do you want to try?”

​“i’d rather just watch you,” akakura blurted out, his face turning a brilliant, hot red. he looked at you with such raw, puppy-like adoration that you couldn't help but giggle. “you’re… you’re the most amazing girl i’ve ever seen. i’m akakura kai. please, can i have your number? i want to help you with the cats. and i want to take you out. please give me a chance!”

#14 yamagata hayato

​hayato was messing around on a skateboard in the parking lot when he saw you. you were currently losing a battle against a large, colorful umbrella that had caught a gust of wind and was trying to take you with it.

​he didn’t even think. he did a perfect save maneuver, sliding across the pavement to grab the handle of the umbrella before you could be swept away. you landed against his chest, breathless and laughing, and hayato felt his heart do a series of rapid-fire blocks against his ribs. you were so bright, and you smelled slightly like petrichor.

​“gotcha!” hayato grinned, but his eyes were wide and full of a sudden, desperate yearning. he didn't let go of the umbrella, or the chance to stay close to you. “whoa, you’re… you’re actually a dream. i think i just saved my own life by catching you. i’m yamagata hayato. please, let me walk you home so you don’t fly away? and then, let me take you to a carnival. i want to see you laugh like that again.”

→ the taxi’s next route is to inarizaki high, get in!

n: i was going to exclude shibata but i just eyeballed it. also, i love akakura sm, he’s such a smartie.

shiratorizawa’s passengers 1/3

@lsirria @cvntyandfasionable @the-bloopsters @highandalive @nelinkythoughts @sleepykeijiii @n-o-b-o-d-y123 @averys-place @anzuuhoshi @evilari111 @eudaim0nia-a @whimsybloom @yeonette @forgottensniper @katzline @michexoxo @pelicanpizza @knkzshx @han0vyc @meikstv @buriedfifii @keiob @ghostwifeyy @bigdaddyyaoii @perpetuallydone @qardasngan @crystal-lilac @methiart @chikuwasushii @wensurr @suha-reads @sillylule @horanghaepaws @hibernatinghamster @griffincorn @poeticsorcery @imjustanobody2024 @windsblow @fiannee @eri0-0 @lazyruinsperson @sh0dor1 @palanggaaa @snowstormsandavalanches @starzlytoetsie @littlemissfix-itfic @kuroofangirl67 @lov3shin @thinc0ck @tnteri @estelleythegreat

soekawa jin

you corner jin by the vending machines, thrusting a letter at him before blurting out, “i like you!” and immediately bolting. jin, normally the chill one, panics—he forgets his water bottle entirely and sprints after you like it’s nationals. he’s yelling your name so loud people think someone’s being mugged. when he finally catches up, he doesn’t let go, clutching your wrist with trembling hands, cheeks red, heart hammering. “don’t run from me like that,” he says, hugging you so tightly you squeak. he hides his nose against your hair, breathing shakily like he might actually faint.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

ushijima wakatoshi

you slip him the letter right before practice and dash. ushijima blinks once, then immediately starts power-jogging after you—zero hesitation. his heavy footsteps pound the ground like a warning drum. when he catches you, he doesn’t even ask, just grabs your face and presses his mouth to yours with brutal sincerity, like he’s staking a claim. he pulls back, staring into your wide eyes with deadly seriousness. “don’t ever run from me. i want you here.” it’s less a confession, more a command. ushijima holds your hand the entire walk back, his thumb brushing your knuckles like he’s trying to brand the moment into his memory forever.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

tendō satori

tendō reads your letter once and screams so loud it echoes through the gym. by the time you’re halfway down the hallway, he’s already bouncing after you, arms flailing. “don’t leave meee pretty cutieeeee!!” he practically tackles you from behind, spinning you around in his arms, laughing like a madman. your face is burning when he suddenly dips you like a scene from a soap opera and plants the sloppiest, most overdramatic kiss on your lips. he pulls back, staring like he’s been shot through the heart. “you… you’re serious, right? because if you’re not, i’ll actually die.” his voice cracks, but his smile is huge and terrifyingly giddy.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

goshiki tsutomu

your letter sends goshiki into system failure. he reads it aloud, stutters halfway, then runs after you with tears streaming down his face. “y/n, please wait!!” when he finally corners you against the wall, he’s crying so hard his words are incomprehensible. you’re about to apologize when he blurts, “I LOVE YOU TOO!” and slams his lips against yours in a messy, desperate kiss. then he promptly collapses to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably into your stomach, begging, “don’t regret it, don’t take it back, please…” he clings to you like you’re oxygen.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

shirabu kenjirō

you shove the letter into shirabu’s hands and sprint, but he doesn’t chase right away—he reads it five times, blood rushing to his head so fast he nearly passes out. then he snaps, throws the papers, and sprints after you like his life depends on it. when he catches you, his hands slam against the wall on either side of your head, trapping you. “don’t you dare run after dropping something like that on me,” he hisses, face flushed, pupils dilated. then, almost violently, he kisses you—sharp, desperate, biting at your bottom lip like he’s punishing you for making him lose composure. when he pulls back, his breathing is ragged. “you’re mine now. don’t think you can take that back.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

semi eita

you slip the letter into semi’s bag and bolt, but he finds it mid-practice. once he realizes what it is, he drops everything—including his setter toss—and barrels out the gym screaming your name. when he finally finds you hiding behind the bleachers, he grabs you by the shoulders and just stares at you, panting like he ran a marathon. “you can’t just… you can’t just confess and then LEAVE!” he kisses you, hard, half-sobbing against your lips. then he pulls back and actually laughs shakily, wiping at his eyes. “god, you’re going to kill me one day. but don’t you dare run again.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

ōhira reon

you give reon your letter in the courtyard and take off. he doesn’t even pretend to be calm—he shouts your name like a war cry and chases you down in record time. when he catches you, he grabs you and swings you up into his arms like you weigh nothing. “don’t ever run from me again, please,” he says softly, though his arms are shaking with adrenaline. before you can reply, he leans down and kisses you deeply, slow and overwhelming, like he’s savoring every second. he rests his forehead against yours afterward, smiling faintly but with eyes that burn. “you’ve ruined me forever, y/n.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

kawanishi taichi

you tuck the letter into kawanishi’s hands and immediately take off, but he doesn’t chase. instead, he just starts walking in the exact direction you ran, so calm it’s unsettling. you keep looking back nervously—he’s always a few steps behind, quiet, relentless. eventually you corner yourself in the library, and he’s just there, standing in the doorway, staring at you. then he walks up, grabs your hand, kisses your forehead, and pulls you down into his lap as he sits. “don’t run,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “you belong here.” it’s soft, but the iron grip on your waist says otherwise.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

hayato yamagata

yamagata sees the letter, screams, and immediately sprints after you so fast he nearly bowls over three first-years. when he finally catches you, he crashes into you so hard you both fall to the ground. he’s grinning like an idiot, face bloody from a nosebleed, babbling, “you like me?! you really like me?! this isn’t a prank, right?!” when you confirm, he actually bursts into tears of joy and hugs you so tightly you wheeze. he doesn’t let you go for hours, clinging to you like a limpet, repeating, “mine, mine, mine” under his breath.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

yunohama

your letter was still warm in your hands when yunohama practically tackled you to the ground. he didn’t even finish reading before blurting, “this means you’re mine, right? RIGHT?!” his arms locked around you so tight it felt like a crime scene hug. his nose started bleeding when you squirmed, but he didn’t care—he kissed you like he was staking a claim. afterwards, still breathing hard, he whispered against your lips, “you don’t get it… i’d erase the whole world if it ever touched you wrong.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

shibata yu

shibata was laughing. laughing like he’d just lost his mind, clutching the letter with shaking hands. “you picked me? ME? oh, you’re so cruel.” he wiped at his face only to smear tears everywhere, then grabbed your cheeks so suddenly it startled you. his kiss was messy, desperate, like he’d been starving for years. when he finally pulled back, eyes bloodshot, he whispered, “i’ll never stop proving i deserve this. even if i break myself in half.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

akakura kai

akakura didn’t say anything at first. he just stared at the paper until his ears turned cherry red. “don’t—don’t look at me right now,” he muttered, voice cracking, before shoving his face into your neck. he hugged you like he was trying to fuse himself to your skin. the kiss that followed was unexpectedly soft, trembling, almost reverent. when he finally dared to meet your eyes again, he said, “no backing out now. i won’t let you.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

yamagata hayato

yamagata straight-up screamed when he finished reading. then he dropped to his knees like he’d just been struck by divine lightning. “holy crap. this is real. THIS IS REAL?!” before you could answer, he latched onto your waist like you were a lifeline, babbling incoherently between tears and nosebleeds. then, in one wild surge, he stood up and crushed his mouth to yours, sloppy but burning with devotion. “if anyone tries to steal you,” he panted against your lips, “i’ll fight them all. i don’t care if it’s the entire world.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a/n: GIVE ME MOTIVATION TO STUDY OMFG. also i feel like it’s repetitive or maybe it’s just because i’m the one writing lol.

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)