nell

The following Wednesday arrived carrying one of those strange early spring afternoons where it was just starting to warm up.

The morning had been cold enough to justify a jacket, but by lunchtime, students were scattered across the quad in short sleeves, convinced that winter was finally over.

As you crossed campus toward the coffee shop, the weather now was accompanied by a small breeze that lifted strands of hair across your face every few steps.

A few months ago, Wednesdays had been ordinary. They were just another forgettable day that was buried beneath classes, assignments, and the exhausting process of trying to put yourself back together after someone had broken your trust.

Now, somehow, Wednesdays belonged to Logan. Or, at least, they felt that way.

You found yourself looking forward to them long before they arrived. They had become important.

As the coffee shop came into view, you automatically glanced toward the windows, searching for a familiar dark head of hair. You didn’t see him.

The disappointment arrived so quickly that it almost annoyed you. He was probably running late, or practice ran over.

Your thoughts stopped. A few feet away from the entrance on the opposite side, Logan stood near the outdoor tables. He wasn’t alone.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. People talked to him constantly. He was one of the most recognizable people on campus, thanks to being a star hockey player. It wasn’t unusual to see someone stop him between classes.

Then the girl turned slightly. It was the same girl from the coffee shop, the one who had stopped by your table a couple of weeks ago. The one who had greeted Logan with the kind of easy familiarity that had bothered you far more than you’d been willing to admit.

For a moment, you remained exactly where you were. You were far enough away that neither of them noticed you, but close enough to see the conversation unfolding. The girl laughed at something Logan said, like she’d heard him make a hundred jokes before.

Logan smiled back at her. The sight shouldn’t have affected you, he smiled at everyone. You told yourself to keep walking, that you were being ridiculous. Then, the girl stepped forward and Logan wrapped his arms around her. It was the kind of high exchanged between people who knew each other well. It was nothing that should have shattered the fragile confidence you’d spent months rebuilding.

Yet somehow, standing there on the sidewalk watching something that was probably completely innocent, you felt the ground shift beneath your feet. Suddenly every fear you’d been keeping at bay surged forward all at once.

It was the fear about yourself and that you’d done it again; you’d mistaken kindness for affection. That you’d taken a collection of small moments and transformed them into something bigger than they were. The coffee order he’d remember. The texts after games. The way his face seemed to brighten when he saw you.

You’d let yourself believe that those things meant something. Not because Logan had promised they did, but because you’d wanted them to. Maybe that had been the mistake. Maybe you had spent so much time enjoying the way he made you feel that you’d forgotten to ask whether he felt anything at all.

The hug ended, and the girl said something that made Logan laugh again. A second later, he reached for the coffee shop door. Panic swept through you so quickly that thinking became impossible. If he looked up now, he’d see you. He’d smile, maybe wave and ask why you were standing there.

You suddenly didn’t trust yourself to act normal. You didn’t trust yourself not to reveal every stupid feeling you’d spent weeks to hide.

Before he could turn in your direction, you pivoted and started walking. Fast. Not running, but just walking quickly enough that the coffee shop disappeared behind the next building before you could change your mind.

The entire trip back to your dorm had felt unreal. It was like your body was on autopilot while your thoughts spiraled several steps behind.

The first text arrived twenty minutes later.

Logan: where are you?

You were sitting on the edge of your bed when your phone lit up, still wearing your coat. Your bag was abandoned somewhere near your desk where you’d dropped it the second you walked through the door.

For a moment, you only stared at the message. It made your chest ache, because you could picture him too clearly. You could imagine him sitting at your usual table, coffee cooling beside his laptop, glancing at the door every few minutes with that slight furrow between his eyebrows he got whenever he was trying to figure something out. He’d probably waited at first, and then checked the time.

You hated that you knew him well enough to imagine all of that. You hated that the thought of disappointing him mattered.

What were you supposed to say?

Sorry, I saw you hug a girl and realized that I’m in love with you so I panicked and fled?

Nope. Absolutely not. A second message arrived quickly.

Logan: Did something happen?

It wasn’t annoyed, or casual. He was concerned. You pressed your palms against your eyes and took a breath that didn’t do much to steady you. The mature thing would be to answer. The reasonable thing would be to tell him that you were fine, that something had come up, and that you’d see him soon. Anything would have been better than silence.

But all reason had gone out of the window the moment you saw his arms around someone else. So, you did nothing.

By the next morning, he texted twice again. Nothing dramatic, or that made him seem angry.

Logan: Hey, just checking in

Logan: are you okay?

You read both, standing in the middle of your dorm with your toothbrush still in your hand, and the guilt that washed over you was heavy.

Logan didn’t deserve this, that was the worst part. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t promised you he was interested, he didn’t ask for you to wait for him. He hadn’t even known you were outside of the coffee shop, watching one ordinary moment crack open every single insecurity you’d been trying so hard to bury.

This wasn’t his fault; it was yours. Your feelings. Your assumptions. Your stupid, fragile hope.

Still, you couldn’t make yourself respond. For the rest of the week, you became an expert in avoidance.

You stopped going to the coffee shop, because the idea of walking past your table and finding it empty made your chest feel tight. You took longer routes between classes, keeping your head down whenever you passed by the athletic center. You stopped checking the hockey scores. You turned your phone over whenever it buzzed because part of you wanted it to be Logan, and the other part of you was terrified it would be.

By Saturday afternoon, the routine you’d built with him had been replaced by a routine of avoiding him. You were in the library when your phone vibrated against the table.

Logan: okay, now I’m officially worried

Logan: if I did something, please just tell me what it is

You stared at the words for so long that they started to blur together. That was finally what made the shame settle in. He was somewhere thinking he’d done something to upset you, and you were letting him believe it because admitting the truth felt far too humiliating.

You had just unlocked your phone, though you had no idea what you had planned to type, when a shadow fell across the table. Every muscle in your body went still. You didn’t need to look up, somehow, you knew exactly who it was.

Logan stood on the other side of the table, his hockey bag slung over one shoulder and his hair slightly damp, like he’d come straight from practice. He looked tired, but more than that, he looked relieved in a way that made your chest ache before he even said a word.

“There you are,” he said quietly.

Your fingers tightened around your phone.

“Hi.”

It was a terrible thing to say.

Logan stared at you for a moment, as if he were waiting for you to offer literally anything else. When you didn’t, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down.

He had the quiet determination of someone who had decided he wasn’t leaving until he understood what had gone wrong.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked.

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Your entire body felt locked in place. This conversation had existed in your imagination for days, but every version you’d imagined ended with you escaping it.

His gaze never left your face. The concern on it made everything worse. He looked worried.

“You haven’t answered a single text,” he said. His voice remained calm, but there was frustration underneath now.

“You stopped showing up. Then I saw you leave one of your classes yesterday the second you spotted me,” he said. He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying you.

Heat flooded your face.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” His words weren’t really a question.

You looked down at the table.

“Maybe.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped him, “Maybe?”

You winced. Okay, that hadn’t sounded great. When you looked up at him again, he was still watching you with that same stubborn patience that had somehow become one of your favorite things about him.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly.

He genuinely didn’t know, which meant if you told him the truth, you’d have to admit just how deeply you’d misread everything.

“Nothing happened.”

The second the words left your mouth, you knew they were useless. Logan knew it too. His eyebrows lifted.

“Seriously?”

You looked away, “Okay, something happened.”

“That’s progress.”

Despite everything, the corner of your mouth almost twitched. Almost. Logan noticed anyway.

“Just tell me.”

You wished it were that easy. If this conversation were only about the girl, maybe it would have been. But, it wasn’t. The girl had simply exposed a problem that had already existed; the problem was sitting across from him. It was somewhere between coffee shop Wednesdays and late-night texts about his roommates, that you’d fallen in love with him.

Every word felt dangerous. You took a slow breath, and finally spoke.

“I saw you,” you said.

Confusion flickered across his face. “You saw me?” “Last Wednesday. Outside of the coffee shop.”

The confusion across his face remained for exactly two seconds. Then, understanding began to dawn. Not complete understanding, but just enough that he was following the timeline.

“I was talking to someone.”

You nodded. A humorless smile tugged briefly at your mouth.

“Yeah.”

Silence settled between you. Then, somehow, Logan looked even more confused.

“You mean Emily?”

Logan sat forward slightly, “Wait.”

His eyes narrowed, and a second later, something clicked. You saw the exact moment his brain connected all of the pieces.

“You thought Emily was my girlfriend?”

The horror that immediately flooded your body was so intense you considered climbing under the table.

“Please don’t say it like that,” you said.

“Oh my God.”

You covered your face with both hands. He stared at you, and then let out a short, stunned laugh.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to have this conversation.”

The laugh disappeared instantly, and suddenly Logan wasn’t looking amused anymore. He was looking at you carefully, like he was realizing there was more than a misunderstanding.

And unfortunately, there was. A lot more.

“Hey,” his voice softened.

You lowered your hands slightly from your face.

“She isn’t my girlfriend.”

You nodded, “I figured that out.”

“No, I don’t think you did.”

The gentleness in his voice made your throat tighten. He wasn’t correcting a misunderstanding anymore, he was trying to understand why it had hurt. That was dangerous.

He leaned forward, forearms resting against the table.

“Emily’s my cousin.”

You closed your eyes. Of course she was. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. Logan sighed.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter than before.

“That isn’t the whole reason, though,” he said.

Your heart immediately dropped, because somehow, you knew that he already knew.

“People don’t disappear for a week because of a misunderstanding.”

The words landed gently.

“You were hurt,” he stated.

“Logan—”

“You were.”

His gaze held yours.

All of a sudden, the exhaustion of the last few months came rushing back. All of the heartbreak, and fear, and the constant feeling that trusting someone again was like standing on the edge of a cliff.

You looked down at your hands.

When you finally spoke, your voice came out much smaller than you intended.

“I felt stupid,” you said.

The confession hung between you as Logan listened.

“I saw you with her and,” you laughed softly, though there was no humor in it, “I don’t know. I just realized how much I’d let myself believe.”

Silence.

“Believe what?” he asked.

You closed your eyes briefly. This is was thing you’d avoided saying, but there was no way out except for telling the truth.

“I thought maybe all of this meant something,” you whispered.

Judging by the look on Logan’s face, the words landed exactly where you were afraid they would.

Logan didn’t say anything, he just looked at you for a moment. The silence stretched long enough that embarrassment began creeping up your neck again. You immediately regretted saying it.

You dropped your gaze to the table.

“Forget it,” you said.

His response came immediately, “No.”

Your eyes lifted. He was still watching you with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

“No, we’re definitely not doing that.”

“Doing what?” you asked.

“That thing where you say something important and then immediately try to take it back. You’re not getting out of this one,” he said.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you said.

“The truth would be a good start.”

You stared out of the library window before looking back at him.

“The truth is that I liked spending time with you.”

“Okay,” he said.

“The truth is that Wednesdays became my favorite day of the week.”

Something unreadable flickered across his face. You pressed on before you could lose your nerve.

“The truth is that every time you text me, it makes my day better. I started going to hockey games. I started saving stories to tell you. I started…” you swallowed, “I started caring.”

The last two words barely made it out. Logan slowly leaned back in his chair, looking completely stunned. This wasn’t the reaction you’d expected.

“Wow.”

You immediately reached for your bag.

“Okay, this was a mistake,” you said, tears stinging the corner of your eyes.

“What?”

You stood so quickly that your chair nearly tipped backwards.

“This was a terrible idea,” you reiterated.

Before you could gather your things, Logan reached across the table and caught your wrist. Not hard, but just enough to make you pause.

“Would you stop trying to run away for five seconds?” he asked, the frustration in his voice startling you.

You slowly sank back into your chair. Logan dragged a hand through his hair and looked toward the ceiling.

For a moment, he actually laughed.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said.

Your stomach twisted.

“That’s not usually the response people hope for.”

His eyes snapped to yours, “No, that’s not—”

He stopped, exhaled, and started again.

“What exactly did you think was happening here?” he asked.

You blinked, “What?”

“Seriously. What did you think all of this was?”

He leaned forward again. You stared at him.

“Friendship?” you said.

Logan just looked at you, and then laughed again, “Friendship.”

The way he repeated the word made heat immediately rush to your face.

“You thought I spent months finding excuses to see you every week because I wanted friendship?”

Your pulse began hammering.

“Logan…”

“I’m genuinely asking, " His eyes never left yours, “I want to know.”

You opened your mouth and closed it again.

Logan let out another breath. Then, quieter this time, he said, “You think I memorized your coffee order because I wanted to be friendly?”

You could literally hear your own heartbeat.

“You think I texted you after every away game because I wanted to be friendly?”

Your chest tightened.

“You think I spent half of the season looking for you in the stands at my games because I wanted to be friendly?”

The words hit one after another, each one landing directly in the center of your chest. Logan’s expression had softened completely now, and in its place was something infinitely more dangerous: affection.

“You really, really, thought I was doing all of this because I wanted to be friends?”

“I didn’t know what to think.”

Logan held your gaze for a few seconds, and then a smile appeared.

“I was trying to take you on a date.”

“What?” you asked.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to take you on a date for two months.”

You stared at him. There’s no way you heard him correctly.

“You… you like me?”

His expression turned almost incredulous.

“Of course I like you.”

His words were immediate and so certain. For months, you’d prepared yourself for rejection and disappointment. You had never once prepared yourself for this. For Logan to look at you like the answer should have been obvious all along.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice kept insisting that you’d misunderstood. That in another moment, he would laugh and explain himself. This outcome had never been one of the possibilities that you’d allowed yourself to consider.

Logan’s expression softened.

“You don’t believe me,” he said.

You immediately shook your head, “No, that’s not—”

But you stopped, because lying felt pointless. You looked down at your hands.

“I want to. So badly,” you said.

When Logan finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

You knew the answer immediately, and you knew you had to tell him.

“I trusted someone before. I trusted him completely.”

You hated how vulnerable the words felt.

“You know what the worst part was? It wasn’t even finding out. It was realizing I’d missed it. I kept thinking back to every conversation, every excuse, every weird feeling I had ignored.”

Your chest felt tight.

You continued, “Afterward, it felt so obvious. Then, I started wondering what else I was wrong about.”

The silence that followed felt heavy. It wasn’t the cheating or the breakup that was the real wound. It was the doubt, the constant uncertainty, and the feeling that your own judgement couldn’t be trusted anymore.

When you looked back at Logan, his expression had changed. There was no pity in his eyes, or discomfort. Just understanding.

“You want to know what I thought when I saw you with her?” you asked.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“I didn’t think you were lying to me or doing anything wrong. I just thought I’d done it again. I thought I’d convinced myself something was there when it wasn’t.”

The admission finally settled into the open. Logan reached his hand across the table, gently enough to rest his hand over yours. The contact was warm.

“You know what I think?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“I think you’ve spent months waiting for something bad to happen. I think you’ve been trying really hard to not get hurt again.”

You blinked rapidly as his thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles. You looked away, because if you looked directly at him right now, you’d probably cry.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was gentle.

You looked at him.

“I’m not asking you to trust me immediately. I’m not asking you to forget what happened, and I’m definitely not asking you to pretend it didn’t hurt.”

Logan’s fingers tightened around yours.

“But I’d like a chance.”

The words settled over you. For the first time since your breakup, the idea of trusting someone felt scary, but it didn’t feel impossible.

“So,” he said.

“So?”

“Can I finally take you on a date?”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. The sound echoed softly between the library shelves.

Saying yes didn’t feel so frightening. It felt right.

The walk out of the library felt strangely unreal. The afternoon sun hung low over campus as the two of you stepped outside, casting everything in shades of gold and amber.

You were too aware of the person walking beside you, and the fact that Logan’s shoulder occasionally brushed yours.

He liked you.

The realization still felt impossible.

By the time you reached the edge of the quad, neither of you seemed particularly interested in heading anywhere specific. You slowed down near a cluster of trees. The conversation between you had faded naturally, leaving something quieter behind.

Logan turned towards you, staring. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“There was something else I wanted to do today.”

“Oh?”

His smile widened, “Yeah.”

Your breath caught, and the look in his eyes made it impossible to misunderstand where this was heading.

Standing in the fading afternoon sunlight, all you felt was a nervous excitement that seemed to stretch from your chest all the way to your fingertips.

Logan took a small step closer to you. His gaze flicked briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes.

When he reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you didn’t pull away, you leaned into it.

The smile that appeared on his face was almost impossibly tender.

Then, he kissed you. It wasn’t rushed. It felt like relief, like coming home after a very long time. His hand remained lightly against your cheek as your eyes drifted closed.

The kiss was soft, careful, and patient. As though he was giving you every opportunity to change your mind. You didn’t.

A grin slowly spread across his face, and you kissed him again.

--

Three weeks later, Wednesday still belonged to the two of you.

Some things hadn’t changed. The coffee shop was still crowded, your table was still tucked beside the window. Logan still showed up carrying far too much caffeine.

The difference was that now, when you looked up from your laptop, he leaned down and kissed the top of your head before taking his seat.

Across the table, he reached for your hand without even thinking about it. Like, it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was.

For the first time in a very long time, you weren’t thinking about what had happened before. You weren’t replaying old hurts. You weren’t waiting for something to go wrong.

You were simply here, with him, happy.

Maybe starting over wasn’t about forgetting the past.

Maybe it was finding someone who made you believe the future could be better. As Logan smiled at you from across the table that afternoon, it was impossible not to think that maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what had happened.

He's been having a lot of sleepovers with his friends since the Starcourt Mall incident. None of them want to be the person who says it but they're all terrified of being alone. He's woken up quite a few times in a cold sweat with gory images in his mind, and he doubts he's the only one. Steve's parents are hardly ever in town so his house becomes the designated place for sleepovers.

The credits are rolling for whatever movie they watched, Mike can't remember because he fell asleep half-way through. His memory is hazy of what time they started but if he had to guess it's probably close to one in the morning.

Dustin is fast asleep next to him on the floor and Will's knocked out on the couch above them. They had been designing their characters for a new DND campaign, Mike's pretty sure there's pen on his cheek from falling asleep while writing the character details.

One of the other side of the couch Max is squished between El and Lucas, and he sincerely doubts she'll mind come morning. She'll probably be grateful considering she's been having some of the worst nightmares.

His eyes make his way over to the loveseat where you had been sitting with Steve. What once started as a respectable distance to avoid incurring any teasing has disappeared. You're leaning on Steve, curled into his side and he has an arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulders. You're trying to focus on the credits, dangerously close to dozing off while Steve stares down at you with something in his eyes Mike can't quite understand.

What he does understand is that his parents have never held each other like that.

"You sleepin' over there baby?" Steve's voice is a soft murmur, smiling as he looks down at you.

"Mmmm…" you let out a sleepy hum, barely acknowledging his words before burrowing deeper into his side.

Steve's smile widens in response and all of a sudden Mike's stomach twists. It's not disgust or repulsion but… embarrassment. He's intruding on something special, he should just close his eyes and go back to sleep. That's what he should do, but he can't bring himself to.

"Mmm…. need to put… the kids,” you mumble just barely comprehensible in your sleepy stupor.

“What about the kids sweetheart?” Steve whispers brushing hair out of your face.

“Put em to bed….” you’re practically in Steve’s lap despite the fact the loveseat was made for two. “Mike and Dustin are on the floor… and clean up…..”

“I’ll do it,” Steve murmurs gently and kisses your forehead, “but first I'm putting you to bed.”

“No…..” your brow furrows in your half conscious state.

“Yes,” Steve smooths out the crease with his thumb and kisses your cheek. Then in one smooth movement he’s standing up and hoisting you into his arms, all while making sure the blanket is still tucked around you. You let out a quiet giggle when he picks you up and he notices.

"Having fun over there?" he teases quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It's almost a knee-jerk reaction, he can't keep his lips off you.

"I feel special," you whisper as if you're sharing a secret and Steve's face softens even more. Mike didn't know it was possible for someone to look at another person like that.

"You are special," Steve whispers in that same secretive tone and kisses your forehead. "C'mon pretty, let's get you to bed."

Your words fade into quiet indecipherable whispers and giggles as Steve carries you to and up the staircase and Mike finds himself staring at the empty loveseat. A million thoughts swirling in his head and none at the same time. He's about to sit up when he hears Steve coming down the staircase and immediately closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

He doesn't know why, he could just pretend he woke up now. He doesn't have to give Steve any indication that he witnessed their intimate moment, but for some reason a part of him believe that waking up now would ruin something. Something he can't quite put words to.

The older teen shuffles around a little, turning off the TV, before coming over to where Mike and Dustin are laying on the floor. Then before Mike knows it Steve is lifting him up and placing him on the couch. He feels like a little kid being carried to bed after falling asleep on the car ride home. Though that only happened once or twice at his mother's insistence, usually his father woke him up to walk inside.

He hears some more shuffling and then the couch dips presumably with Dustin's weight. He hears the sounds of Steve cleaning up trash and crafts, carefully organizing their DND papers as to not be scolded later. Just when he thinks Steve is about to head upstairs a blanket is gently tucked around his shoulders and a damp cloth is pressed to his cheek to wipe the pen marks off.

"Wheeler?" Steve whispers gently, and his body tenses but his eyes don't open.

Noticing the tension in his body, Mike hears Steve let out a huff indicating he's smiling. He tucks the blanket a little tighter and ruffles Mike's hair.

"Go to bed kid."

Steve tucks a blanket around Dustin before flicking off all the lights and setting the heater to a comfortable temperature. Then he quietly creeps upstairs and Mike can hear the soft murmurs of you two speaking. He doesn't need to be in the room to have an idea of what's being said.

But who could blame a girl for wanting the days where she wasn’t tormented by another being that she had failed, let down everyone she loved and the mere existence of her was at the expense of someone else, someone more innocent and had life behind her eyes. 

You’d prefer to say that Hawkins was like living in hell than go down the wormhole of suppressed feelings. And the fact that you couldn’t leave this mess of a town due to the military quarantining you and everyone you wished to avoid, validates your statement that Hawkins had it out for you.

Everyone suffered in the spring of 1986, the group was severed and discovered that everything they thought they knew about the Upside Down was wrong; everything they had already fought was just the beginning.

Over time, everyone moved on. Distanced themselves from the reality they lived out 18 months ago and focused on the now, how they could save Hawkins after Vecna had fulfilled his promise.

But it’s harder to move on when it should’ve been you lying in Hawkins Hospital, heart monitor steady and face pale, your body still as the doctor insisted you were in a coma. You should’ve been sick of the stench of the hospital, annoying everyone that came to visit you as you showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. 

It should’ve been your walkman resting on the bedside table, headphones draped loosely around your neck after everyone got fed up of hearing the same song on repeat, binning out the boombox and preferring to have the music reserved for your ears only.

But it wasn’t you. In some twisted reality you called normality, Max Mayfield was the one who suffered the fate that was designed for you.

You visited her often, not only because you babysitted her throughout her childhood and made it known to everyone that she was your favourite of the group, but because your endless guilt forced you to sit in the chair beside her bed, staring at the reminder that you had failed; and everyone around you was too nice to say it to your face.

In the time that you had held Max’s hand with your own clammy palm, you had grown accustomed to seeing Lucas almost every day and muttering the same mantra to his hopeless face: “I’m sorry. I did everything I could.”

And Lucas would interrupt you every time, “Don’t ever be sorry. I’m glad you’re here.”

At least someone could put a soft smile on your face as Hawkins crumbles around you.

You wished you could confide in him but he was still a kid battling with his own issues, high school still relevant as he tried to keep the town from falling apart, the love of his life was unconscious and his best friend had changed severely within the 18 months, much like the rest of you.

One name rang around your mind as you searched for an output, someone you wished you could let in and not feel so alone. But whatever friendship or connection you had with Steve Harrington was in the past, and it seemed adamant to stay there.

Oh, Steve Harrington. The man you would go to for anything, whether that was fighting inter-dimensional creatures or dragging someone along to the movie you had been dying to watch and knew you could convince him with the promise of paying for him; although he would never let you, he preferred to enjoy your company.

You remembered the way he refused to let go of your hand as you ventured below Starcourt Mall and how he promised he would keep you safe as you sat back to back, mind running a million thoughts as you dreaded what the Russians would do to you.

How could you forget when you sat on the bathroom floor, sandwiched in the stalls between Steve and Robin as their words were prompted by the ‘truth serum’. And how Steve admitted that he had fallen in love with someone else after Nancy Wheeler.

Of course, his admission was cut short by Dustin barging into the bathrooms, his posture reeking of stress and urgency, enough to get the three of you on your feet and any further words trapped behind the burning walls of Starcourt Mall.

Then as Vecna forced his way into your lives and targeted you and Max, you felt your sanity snatched out from under your feet and Steve’s hands to support you as you convinced yourself you were losing your mind.

He used to have your walkman and favourite song tucked into the backpack Dustin carried everywhere, refusing to let you leave the house or out of his sight without it in touching distance. You’d tell him that it was manifesting a bad outcome, but he’d scoff and say, “I don’t care. As long as you’re safe.”

To say you were fond of Steve Harrington was an understatement. You had been harbouring a crush on him for a while now, but who didn’t? 

How could you not fall for Steve “The Hair” Harrington?

Steve with his perfect hair and handsome face, with a laugh you could recognise anywhere. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you that made it easy to become enamoured with him, how his eyes would soften whenever you spoke up and how even in the darkest times, he would cup your face and make sure the only thing you saw was him.

You could feel the ghost of his hand brush against the small of your back whenever you stood alone in the group as they discussed the crawls, reminding you of the man that now stood on the opposite side of the room to you and how he used to be your anchor back to reality.

You were told good things never last, but you never put Steve Harrington into the category of things you could lose.

You found yourself pushing him away the second Max closed her eyes and they never reopened. The last words Steve spoke directly to you were reassurances whispered into your hair, his arms wrapped around your frame as your body shook from hearing the final chime of the clock, confirming your fears that Max had been cursed one final time.

You shut yourself out from everyone. It was expected, but no one made the effort to drag your past self back to the surface, leaving her drowning in the sorrow that the spring of 86’ provided.

You understood that it shouldn’t be you standing here listening to the group relay ideas for the crawl, it should’ve been a redhead tucked under Lucas’ arm who mocked any stupid ideas that Mike would throw out.

To remove yourself from the equation was easier than accepting that the past cannot be changed.

If your lack of inclusion in the group was the closest you could reach to the fate that was written under your name, then it was what you would conform to. No matter how much it hurts to feel pitying eyes on your form.

"𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 really promising.” Steve sighed as his flashlight scaled the walls of the lab, falling behind Dustin’s hurried steps.

How you found yourself in the Upside Down’s version of Hawkins Lab with Steve, Nancy, Jonathan and Dustin and tensions high was a question you wished you could say was unanswered. But after driving Steve’s precious beamer into a wall and following Dustin’s throw-in-the-dark idea, your day had already decided to suck.

“We’re in the lobby.” Dustin huffed. If you thought you were outward with your uncomfortable situation with Steve, Dustin made sure he won that argument. 

You walked beside Nancy as she furrowed her brows at the surroundings, “And… where are we going exactly?” She tilted her head.

“Right. Like, what is it we’re looking for?” Jonathan asked as he looked at Dustin. “You’ve all seen Return of the Jedi?” Dustin said.

You stumbled to a stop as your heart clenched uncomfortably. You were the one who introduced the franchise to Steve. When he secured his job at Family Video beside you and Robin, you made sure he knew some recent films and found yourselves brushing shoulders on movie nights and watching his brows screw up as he tried to understand the plot.

You felt a pair of eyes burning into the side of your face. “The one with the teddy bears?” Steve mumbled.

“Ewoks.” You and Dustin said in unison, “Yeah, it’s the best one.” Steve responded.

Nancy raised her eyebrows, “Is it?” Dustin scoffed, “No, but every child loves it, so tracks.” You pressed your lips together to prevent a small smile from appearing on your face. Nancy’s eyes flickered to you and noticed, her eyes softening as she watched a glimpse of your past self slip out.

“In the film, if you recall,” Dustin stepped forwards, “the rebels need to destroy a second Death Star, but it’s surrounded by a protective energy shield, which is created by a shield generator.”

“Yeah, cool. Thanks for the summary of a movie we’ve all seen.” Steve’s voice echoed around the lifeless lobby. Of course he remembered the film, despite watching it to satisfy you only, he understood the context to some extent.

“It could be relevant, Steve.” You cleared your throat, eyes glancing his way as he turned around to face you, his expression unreadable.

Dustin nodded in your direction, “Thank you!” He gestured to you before continuing his analogy, “Look, I think this circular flesh wall is Vecna’s version of an energy shield, except it’s not sci-fi.”

“It’s supernatural, created by Vecna’s dark magic. And this dark magic shield is what’s preventing us from reaching him and saving Holly.” You crossed your arms over your chest as the group huddled around Dustin. “But if my math is correct, the generator for the shield has to be in this lab.” He finished.

Jonathan stood between you and Steve, “So if we find this dark magic shield generator…” Even hearing the words come out of someone else’s mouth felt strange, you couldn’t believe you had been roped into this again.

Dustin nodded, “We destroy the wall.” You fiddled with your flashlight, “Find Vecna.”

“Save Holly.” Nancy finished your sentence, her sister being at the forefront of her mind.

“Medals for all.” You offered Dustin a tight smile as his sarcastic enthusiasm had you wanting to find this shield generator as soon as possible, needing to breathe after being suffocated in the uncomfortable tension.

Steve placed his hands on his hips, “And it looks like what?”

“How would you expect me to know that?” Dustin rolled his eyes and turned his back on the group. You let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed your face with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut and hoping that when they reopen, it’ll all be some sick illusion.

Steve scoffed as he watched the tension build in your shoulders, “If you’re gonna complain then you should just leave now. This wasn’t exactly our ideal location.” 

You lifted your head and realised Steve’s annoyance was directed at you. Your face screwed up with confusion and your eyes darted between Nancy and Jonathan, “I’m not complaining. Where’d you get that from?”

Steve opened his mouth to retort but Nancy took a step forward to follow in Dustin’s trail, “We don’t have time for this.” She ordered and nodded for you to follow, not seeing her shoot Steve a disappointed gaze.

Jonathan cleared his throat to diffuse the tension, leaving Steve behind the pack and eyes trained on the back of the person he used to call his best friend. 

Dustin shouldered the door open and you suppressed a groan when you made eye contact with two flights of stairs. “Up or down?” You asked.

“I say both. Search in two teams. Cover more ground.” Nancy concluded, keeping a tight grip on her bag thrown over her shoulder.

Steve nodded beside you, ignoring the way your shoulders touched in the tight space, “Yeah, that’s cool with me, but can we just switch the teams up?”

Your jaw clenched as you remembered all the times everyone would assume you and Steve were paired together in these situations. You suspected that he would want distance from you but to hear it out loud and under unfortunate circumstances made you want to bash your head into the wall.

“Nance, you and me to go up?” Nancy’s head snapped towards the brunette, her eyes wide, “Oh, I mean…” She shook her head.

“Are you serious?” Jonathan scoffed. You almost laughed at being situated in the middle of Steve and Jonathan as they battled it out for who could be more ‘macho’, as you and Nancy liked to call it.

“Us three,” Steve gestured at you and Dustin, “We need some space.”

Jonathan shrugged, “Fine. How about me and you? Then her and Nance?” You raised your brows, suddenly on board with the pairing options.

“I think we need some space too.” Steve shut down your ideal groups rather quickly.

“So everyone but Nancy. That’s just… It’s convenient.” Jonathan’s voice dropped as he glanced over at you staring at the floor, “I don’t get it. What are you trying to prove to her?” He jutted his thumb out in your direction.

You widened your eyes, “Me?” Steve closed his eyes and shook his head, “This has nothing to do with her.”

“How about this?” You raised your voice, hand rubbing your temple as their bickering started to give you a headache, “I’ll go alone. Three groups will be more beneficial.” 

You lifted your flashlight and went to take a step in the other direction, but Nancy’s hand tugging you on the back of your shirt sent you stumbling back and crashing into Steve’s chest.

“You’re not going alone.” Nancy said firmly, refusing to let you out of anyone's sight. 

You readjusted your footing and brushed your clothing as you leaned out of Steve’s touch, “Of course you wanted to go alone.” You heard him mutter under his breath.

Before you could respond, Nancy cut you off. “Hey, we don’t have time for this. Let’s just keep it simple, stick to the usual teams.” She shot you an apologetic look.

“Nance, please--” You groaned as Steve and Dustin offered her the same pleas, “I can’t--”

“End of discussion.” She raised her voice, her feet taking her up the stairs and avoiding the three frustrated looks directed at her. Jonathan patted you on the shoulder and whispered an apology under his breath as he brushed past you and followed Nancy, leaving Steve and Dustin to sigh in the wake.

Steve sighed and looked over at Dustin, “Awesome.” He said sarcastically. Dustin raised his brows and dragged his feet down the extensive amount of steps.

Steve turned to you and you looked up at him. You could recall the days when his eyes would soften when they met your own, a smile gracing his flushed face and hands raised to fix his hair, desperate to constantly look his best whenever you saw him.

Now those eyes felt like a void, you couldn’t decipher what he was feeling. “Just awesome.” He repeated and barged your shoulder slightly as he passed you.

You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, easing the tension and headache that was brewing. You reminded yourself that this was for the greater of Hawkins because if it was up to you, you would have sprinted out of the lab at the first chance than explore with your ex-best friend and the kid that hates his guts.

With each step you took, you felt the throbbing pain in your head get worse. It wasn’t unusual to get migraines with the stress you found yourself under constantly, but this one felt different. 

It felt familiar.

The pain caused you to feel lightheaded, tripping on the last step and forcing a hand out on the wall to catch your fall. You clenched your teeth together and pressed the heel of your hand against your temple.

Steve heard heavy footsteps behind him and turned around, the beam of his flashlight shining right in your face, “You alright?” He asked, voice teetering on edge of concern.

You nodded and stuck a hand out to block the light shining at you, “Yeah, I’m good.” You lied through your teeth, pushing through the ache to follow Dustin who led the pair of you.

Steve nodded slowly and retracted his flashlight, “Okay, that was too many stairs.” He joked weakly, trying to diffuse the worry that flooded his body.

Dustin, unaware of the torment you were experiencing behind him, quoted, “Treasures are always hidden in the deepest depths of the dungeon.”

“What is it, a treasure or a magic shield generator? Keep your metaphors straight, dude.” Steve said as he turned his back on you.

You sighed, “Analogy.” You whispered to yourself, correcting his statement but lacking the care to fight with him once again.

Steve and Dustin strode forward, pushing on the double doors to reveal a room designed for kids. Rainbows were painted on the floors and walls and games were scattered all over the floor.

“Did not expect to find a daycare in this hellhole.” Steve felt his heart rate pick up at the dystopian room, “That’s a perk.”

You entered the room and leaned your back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut as it felt like someone was toying with your brain, prodding at it until you cracked. You didn’t even notice begin to leave the room until his frustration boiled over.

“While I search the rest of the basement, why don’t you stay here and play with your balls?” He chucked the object back at Steve, “Perfect, yeah.” Steve clenched his jaw.

The pair bickered back and forth before Dustin left with a scowl on his face. You leaned over to watch his figure retreating and turned to Steve who hoisted himself up to sit on one of the desks.

You interrupted the silence, “So I take it you two don’t get along anymore.” You crossed your arms over your chest and pushed yourself to stand upright.

Steve scoffed, “What would you know? You haven’t been here.”

Your movement halted, “I’ve been here.” You squinted at him as he rested his elbows on his knees.

“You’ve been here,” Steve gestured to your figure, “But here,” He tapped the side of his head, tongue wedged between his teeth in frustration, “You’re somewhere else. And you have been for the last 18 months.”

Your breathing shallowed, “That’s called grief, Steve. We all go through it.” 

“But what are you grieving? That’s what I don’t get.” He snapped, eyes meeting your own as you shrunk under his hard gaze.

“Max.” Her name felt wrong on the tip of her tongue. You refused to say it for months after she was admitted into hospital, the reminder of the redhead had you wanting to hurl on the floor of the lab.

Steve let out a loud laugh, “You’re grieving someone that’s not even dead! What are the chances that Max wakes up during all of this? Pretty damn high if you ask me.” He ran his hand through his hair and watched your face screw up in sheer disgust at his words.

Steve licked his lips, “You know, I think you secretly wanted this.”

You felt your heart stop in your chest, “What?” 

You watched the brunette nod, “I think you’ve been spiralling for a while now and used this whole Max and Vecna situation as an excuse. You were barely affected during the curse and now you’ve decided to make it everyone else’s problem.” The difference is, you were affected. And Steve knew it.

Who was the one who held you as you recalled your first vision, hands shaking and kisses peppered along your hairline. The same man who basically told you that you had it easy that spring, that you’re living off the thrill of being cursed a handful of times.

You turned your back on him, “I’m not doing this right now.” You heard him shout as you pushed the double doors open, “Shutting me out once again!”

You hurried out the room, not baring to stand the sight of his face again. You feel a bile rise in the back of your throat, the noises of the dormant lab suffocate you, and the throbbing pain between your skull intensifies.

You hadn’t noticed anything was wrong until you saw a drop of red stain your sweater. Your head snapped down and tugged at the material to gain a closer look.

Your eyes widened and you lifted your hand to touch under your nose. Retracting your hand, you saw that the tips of your fingers were painted red.

“Shit.” You cursed and tugged the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, wiping the blood that streamed from your nose onto the material. 

You furrowed your brows as you racked your brain for the last time your nose decided to spontaneously bleed. It was so out of the ordinary that you couldn’t remember. 

A light behind a door caught your eye. It looked out of place, like whatever was behind it was not meant to be there. Your feet carried you towards it before your brain comprehend what was going on.

Just as you placed the palm of your hand against the door, inches away from pushing it open, you heard a loud crash from the room you were previously in.

Your mind running a million different worst case scenarios, you sprinted towards the noise. As you got closer, you heard familiar yells and curses, the sound of items cluttering to the floor made your heart pick up.

Skidding around the corner, you stumbled into the room panting. Your eyes locked onto Steve as he sat up, groaning in pain, “You know what, man? I’m done.” He slowly clambered to his feet, ignoring your worried gaze.

“I’m done!” He shouted and barged against your shoulder as you stood in the doorway, eyes flickering between a beaten Dustin on the floor and Steve who had a fresh bruise forming on his cheek.

Putting two and two together, you tugged Steve back by gripping onto his jacket, “What the fuck just happened?” You raised your voice, on the heels of Steve as he tried to shake off your hold.

“None of your business.” His voice broke as he refused to spare Dustin a second glance, hearing his voice echo down the hallways, “You dumb, fake asshole!”

You let out an exasperated sigh and swallowed your nerves, “I think it’s my business when you scare the shit out of me!” You yanked him to a stop and he looked past you, “Is that a bruise?”

Your fingers gently brushed the underside of Steve’s jaw before he slapped your hand away, “No--” “Did you get in a fight?” You furrowed your brows.

Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, “Can you stop?” His eyes locked onto the blood staining the sleeve of your sweater, furrowing his brows as he wondered when you had gotten hurt.

Through your concern, you failed to hear him, “Tell me what the hell happened--” “God! You’re so ungrateful!” Steve yelled and you flinched slightly at the tone of voice, one he had never used on you before.

You squinted up at him, “Ungrateful?” You voiced your offence as your hands dropped from tending to his recent wounds, and his own dropped off your shoulders, finding home in gripping his jeans.

Steve bit down on his bottom lip as if what was spewing out of his mouth was the filtered half, “You’re standing here and breathing just fine by yourself! But guess who isn’t?”

Your breath hitched as your mind went to Max who lay still, hooked up to anything the hospital could find to classify her condition to be a coma, “Where are you going with this?” Your voice wavered.

“I’m saying that Max would’ve been grateful.” Steve’s response was enough to sever any chance of redeeming what you had. You could barely recognise the man standing in front of you, the one so overcome with anger that he wouldn’t understand the severity of his words until moments later.

You took a deep breath, “And I’m saying that you’re being a dick.”

“You got lucky that spring and you know it.” You took a step back from him, “You’re being mean, Steve.”

Steve looked down and huffed out a laugh, “And we’ve been telling you this whole time, ‘It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything.’” You felt tears prickle at your eyes, “In my opinion, I think you could’ve done more--” “Shut up!” You shouted and shoved him in the chest. “And if you hadn't left Max alone that night…”

Tears blurred your vision, “Are you saying that it should’ve been me?”

The silence should’ve been your answer. You should’ve left the second Steve didn’t immediately shut down the ludicrous statement. But your heart yearned to know the truth, to know what he had really thought about you since that night; if everything between you was simply a wrinkle in time, something that was never meant to exist but would ultimately be crushed by the harsh reality.

“Your interpretation. Not mine.” Steve mumbled.

You felt like you had been doused with cold water. It turns out Steve Harrington was the same man he was all those years ago. And to confirm your worst fears, to admit that he’d been lying to you the entire time you thought you could be falling in love with him; this was definitely the worst moment in your entire life.

You nodded weakly, a forced smile etched across your face, “And I’m the one who’s changed, right?”

Your words hit Steve like a truck, and if you disappearing out of his sight with tears cascading down your cheeks didn’t hurt enough, then the realisation of his words did.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘, 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍, 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 and Dustin had all found each other after. They were hunched over the book Dustin had found before he could warn Nancy to not shoot whatever force they located in the sky.

Nancy chewed on the skin around her thumb, “No sign of her?” 

Dustin shook his head after peering around a corner, “I haven’t seen her since…” His voice trailed off as he remembered his fight with Steve, regret forming in the pit of his stomach as a bruise formed on his friend’s cheek.

Steve looked like he could throw up any second. His face was pale and his hair was matted. He hadn’t seen you since he had said the words he wished he could forget, the way he had spoken to you and the way your face crumbled.

He didn’t mean any of it. Not one word.

He wishes to never relive the feeling he felt when he watched you walk away from him, and how he rounded the corner to meet Nancy and Jonathan and you weren’t beside them.

You were alone in the lab. And it was all Steve’s fault.

His ever present guilt was cut off but a guttural scream outside the lab. Nancy rose to her feet immediately and gasped, “What was that?”

Jonathan copied her movement, “What was what?”

Silence fell over the group as they listened in, “Holly.” Nancy whispered and dropped the items in her hand, sprinting towards the door with Jonathan hot on her tail.

Dustin made a move to follow them but Steve grabbed him by the arm, “Holly. She’s out of Vecna’s reach.” His chest tightened.

Dustin furrowed his brows, “What do you mean?”

“There’s 12 kids. If Holly’s out…” Steve muttered and Dustin’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Who’s in?” Dustin’s voice wavered and watched Steve’s eyes dart around the room.

Steve knew who Vecna was targeting the second his suspicions were confirmed. He remembered the blood staining the sleeve of your sweater, the headaches that made you feel dizzy and the way you looked uncomfortable the second you found yourself in the Upside Down.

You were Vecna’s next target and Steve Harrington had no idea where you were.

LOL

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Your tranquillity is shattered.

Choosing to ignore him, you pray that your husband does a flip while he dives off a-

“Would you still love me if I was poorly adapted in an anime?”

Sigh...

Manoeuvring yourself to face him, you hope he can see the utter displeasure he's inflicted upon you despite the only lighting being the dim backdrop of moonlight that seeps through the curtains.

“This isn’t some teenager’s fanfiction series, Stupid. Go to sleep. We both have an early start tomorrow.”

"I'm serious! Would you still love me if I was being hyped up so hard before my first appearance but the animators made me ugly?"

You slap a hand over his mouth. "Go. To. Sleep."

He licks the hand to gross you out enough to let go, but two decades of his shit has made you very well immune.

Seconds pass, and thinking that he’ll heed your words, you let him go and wipe his saliva on his pyjama top, unfazed.

Unfortunately, he opens his mouth. "Answer my question, and i'll leave you alone. Please?"

Surprised at the sincerity of his plea, you decide after a moment that perhaps indulging him once in a while wouldn't hurt.

Taking his hands from under the covers, you pull them up so that they lay just over your chests, your synced beating hearts. Loosely interlacing your fingers with his own, you savour and take comfort in the cooling chill from the touch of his ring.

Looking at him in the eyes and with as much sincerity in your voice, you whisper back...

"You're going to be ugly in every universe, whether you like it or not, and there's nothing you can do to change that."

"..."

Your husband is finally silent, so you take this opportunity to peck him on the corner of his lips and burrow yourself into his warmth whilst wishing him sweet dreams, hands still intertwined.

Though, you fail to witness the way he's now withered away. With his mouth agape and a fractured heart, Narumi Gen does not sleep that night.

Kikoru would never voice her true intentions out loud but it was clear that she was as invested as her companions were if her constant questions about the matter said anything about it. She was influenced by her close peers and their enthusiasm definitely fed that.

Reno didn’t want anything to do with it… at first. He changed his mind after only an hour and he thinks it’s due to spending too much time with a certain someone who loved entertainment. Iharu sneezes in the distance. 

Kafka was simultaneously wanting to join the younger members in their antics, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk another week of pushups. While he would admit that his arms were tougher, those exercises reminded him of the embarrassment every time he miscalled his commander. But the thought of having some knowledge about Hoshina was interesting, to say the least. 

It seemed they were all bored overall. 

Ultimately, they all decided to make a plan and figure it out separately. Your division was visiting for a week and reconvening would wait until the weekend. It was time to investigate. 

Minase was the one to kick it off, prompting her fellow members to gain more confidence. It all started with an innocent encounter in the operations room when she, Kikoru, and Hakua passed by. 

There were voices inside but the most prominent ones were yours and Hoshina’s. The Vice-Commander was a little surprised to see them when they intercepted at the door but it is quickly masked when you step out, a hint of a smile on your face possibly due to the joke he told you only moments before.

“Now, what’re you three doin’ here?” The Vice-Commander asks, hands in his pockets while you stand slightly behind him with your head tilted. 

Minase always had a good ear being a great listener for her peers and was able to hear what he had said to you. It was a flirty quip, but not enough to not be told to a close friend. Upon seeing that she had caught both of your attention, she smiles.

“Good afternoon!” You greet her as well but a silence falls over you five. It’s a bit awkward–Kikoru side-eyes her friend to see what the whole stopping and rushing over here was for, but Minase had a plan already set. “We were actually looking for you, Commander,” she looks directly at you and you raise a brow at the implication of her tone.

“Oh?” You take a step forward. “What for?”

“Some training tips, is all. After the last session you gave us, it motivated us to work on our blade work even more!” Like Hoshina, your preferred way of fighting had nothing to do with the guns everyone else used. You hum in acknowledgement. 

The Third was full of promising new officers and it would be a waste to not help them hone their skills even more. But you were sure Hoshina was pushing them enough with his own swordsmanship. You even learned a lot from him yourself. 

Hakua stifles a choked sound when Minase elbows her gently, not expecting to be put on the spot just like that. And despite already being told of their group’s plan beforehand and having her outgoing personality, it was still a nerve-racking request. 

“Y-Yeah! You seem close to Commander Narumi so we thought you guys would have similar fighting styles.” In your head, you think they’re referring to how he’s the strongest and anyone would want to learn from the best of the best. Gen wasn’t the easiest to get a hold of and you felt flattered they would ask you directly, so of course you would help out.

On the side, Kikoru is tasked with watching the Vice-Commander. Not all reactions were verbal and she was the most observant of the three, but she couldn’t maintain her eyes on him the whole time lest he get suspicious. 

But now she thinks her eyes have deceived her. At the mention of Commander Narumi, Hoshina’s eyes peek open. She sees how they darken more as Hakua talks about your fighting styles but just like his initial surprise earlier, that expression left as quickly as it came. 

She tucks that away.

Vice-Commander Hoshina had his “Kaiju killing eyes” at the mention of Commander Narumi. Don’t know what that could mean. - Kikoru

That’s jealousy! - Minase

Now you see what I mean about his eyes?? - Kafka

Iharu was infatuated with you from the get-go, though you would say that his first inspiration was Commander Ashiro. Saving him that day was what began his journey into the Defense Force, but it was you who motivated him to alter his fighting style to keep up with Reno. 

Speaking of the latter, he was sitting beside him in the cafeteria as the two tried to think of a plan for their part. They caught wind that Kikoru’s group got a promising lead and it was up to the rest to solidify it. But they’ve been stuck for the past hour trying to come up with their own thing and asking for training would be a stolen idea.

Reno watches as more and more officers walk into the shared area and grab their meals from the line. They’re a mix of your division and the Third Division members conversing among themselves and he immediately sits up with his idea. Iharu turns his head in surprise to find Reno’s attention already turned to him.

“What? Got an idea?” Reno nods fervently and brings both of their heads down to speak more quietly. Iharu raises his brows at the proposal and his cheeks turn pink. He’s outspoken, yeah, and confident, sure, but this was you. 

His friend pleads with him. He relents.

It’s not too long before you step into the cafeteria with the goal of lunch like everyone else. Spending time with Okonogi was great and all but she fried your brain with data only she and your Operations Leader Sora could keep up with. This was grounds for a well-deserved meal before your joint training session as well. 

Iharu watches as you get in line and as he stands up to line up behind you, and like Reno predicted as you grab your tray, you see the officer. To his and Iharu’s surprise, you greet him first. 

“Officer Furuhashi, right?” You ask after grabbing your tray. There’s a bright look on your face at the excitement of seeing the man who impressed your previous Commander. He shakily nods and you smile in response. “Commander Ogata said a lot of things about you.”

Iharu lets out a polite chuckle. “All good things, I hope?” He gets a laugh out of you and you both fall into a comfortable conversation as you move down the line. Reno watches the door and he hopes the timing works out, or Plan B would have to be used. At least Iharu was having a good time. 

It’s when the two of you reach the end of the line and walk towards Reno’s table does Hoshina appear from the doorway. The red-haired officer doesn’t see him yet and your conversation is at the point when you have a hand on his arm as you’re gushing over his newfound ability with his Kaiju suit. He feels a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder and Iharu freezes, looking to his side to see his Vice-Commander. 

“Vice–”

“Afternoon, Officer Furuhashi. Whatcha two talkin’ about?” By then your hand still hasn’t left his arm and he feels Hoshina’s grip get tighter. Iharu places his tray down onto the nearest table and your hand drops to your side but you didn’t notice. 

“His new ability,” you answer, “we were talking about it earlier with the operations team, remember? I was just looking for you, Officer Furuhashi, I’m so glad I got to talk to you.” Your answer is so sincere and he feels like he could melt right then and there. But to the side of him, there was also a strange sensation in the air. 

It was akin to bloodlust. 

“The same here.” Iharu answers and bows, “Please, enjoy your lunchtime.” Before you can say anything more, he turns on his heel straight towards Reno with his head down. 

The two sit there in silence as you look on in confusion before Hoshina pulls you along with him for his lunch. They aren’t looking at the two of you but Reno already got what he needed.

Vice-Commander Hoshina almost broke Furuhashi’s shoulder. I saw he also had one of his blades behind him while they were all talking. - Reno

WHAT?? - Iharu

By the way, what was plan B? - Kikoru

Iharu asks her directly if she’s dating the Vice-Commander. - Reno

HELLO?? - Iharu

Hi. - Kafka

Kafka knew he was going to be the last of the bunch to get this done. The digital community board on their group chat was a smart idea by Minase and he was able to see what the younger officers were trying to do with this mission. 

Kikoru and her friends got the first response but it needed more. Reno and Iharu got the “more” and all-in-all needed one final piece to set the puzzle. Kafka was proud of them but was currently in a situation with absolutely no idea as to what he was going to do. He thought that was more than enough to assume there was a relationship between the two of you, but Kikoru kicked him for that, too.

Was there any way to get you to confess about it? He thought about asking you directly but even though you were younger than him, you still held a higher title. And he didn’t want to face the potential wrath you could unleash for asking such a question. Were you the type to dish out punishments like the Vice-Commander? Again, he didn’t want to risk it. 

He had to do it soon too, you and your division were leaving in the morning and it would be another month or so before you and Hoshina would be seen in the same vicinity. 

Kafka sighs and runs a hand through his hair. This was troublesome but they were counting on him. 

He looks around the library he’s doing his nightly study session and sees that the time is very close to midnight. He’s shocked and now there’s absolutely no way he’s going to catch you at this hour, not unless you were training anyway. His best bet was to find you early in the morning but even that was a bit of a gamble.

Deciding on his defeat, Kafka puts his books and pens away before heading out into the hallway back to his room. He gets a sense of deja vu when he sees the light of the training room still on and assumes it’s the Vice-Commander again, and it wouldn’t hurt to watch him in action, right?

He walks up to the slightly open door and stops in his tracks at the sight. Both you and Hoshina were holding blades. Your’s were slightly longer and his were the typical ones he used during outside missions. Needless to say, they were the real deal. 

In the blink of an eye, you’re lunging towards each other and Kafka thinks if he blinks even once, he’d miss about five slashes shared between you two. Following Hoshina alone was already too much but watching someone match his speed? It was out of this world. 

The match only lasts for about half a minute, ending with a knife to both of your throats from the other. A moment of heavy breathing follows before you groan and toss your head back in exasperation, both of you simultaneously lowering your weapons. 

“I still can’t get that last one right!” 

“It was close! And hey, ya got the blade to my neck.”

“I always get the blade to your neck.” You roll your eyes. Hoshina was the best swordsman there was and it was incomparable to your personal weapon, so of course he would be better than you at it. ‘Whatever, I’m heading to bed.” Hoshina lets out a laugh. You put away the practice weapons and as you head to the door, Hoshina pulls you back to him by your wrist. 

“Wait a second,” he says and leans his head down to yours. 

Kafka, in the meantime, ducked his head to avoid being seen at least a little longer knowing he was not running away to hide in time. There aren't any more words being exchanged and he thinks there’s something else going on in that small bit of silence. 

He pops his head up and makes eye contact with Hoshina’s open eye. 

Got pushups. - Kafka

Damn. Sorry old man. - Iharu

So you got caught? Amateur. - Kikoru

Leave me alone! I tried. - Kafka

So you really didn’t see anything? - Reno

Oh, yeah. They kissed. - Kafka

…

What? - Kikoru

I got caught by the Vice-Commander. Scared me. :(- Kafka

…

HUH?? - Kikoru

Bonus:

After Kafka leaves, his head hung low at the premonition of more punishment, your arms stay on Hoshina’s shoulders. 

“Did you have to do that?” You muse, playing with the shorter hairs near the nape of his neck. He shivers at the feeling but his eyes open slightly and they’re not looking at you so softly.

“Did ya have to talk about him before training?” He counters back. He knows what you’ve been doing. You scoff.

You also know what he’s been doing. The murderous intention at the mention of you and Gen, the physical warning during lunch at Iharu, and even a mark of possession to the poor older man who was just joining in the fun of his peers. 

“Of course,” you bring him down to you, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. You feel his hands tighten on your waist. 

“What are you gonna do about it?”

You were being a coward.

You knew this; you had stopped trying to deny it. Narumi had been trying to go about the days as if everything were normal— popping into your office during his free time, also popping in during his not-so-free time. You were the one being weird. But how could you not be?

You got this position because you were qualified for it, you got this position because you're a good fit, you took this position, truly, because of the pay and the benefits, but also because it was something you enjoyed.

And now you slept with your boss.

God, what a cliche you are. Not only had you slept with him, more than once, but you were about eighty-five percent sure you had somehow entered a friends-with-benefits situation with him.

"If something makes me happy or keeps me entertained, they let me have it, so long as I'm killing kaiju and saving people."

That stupid sentence was haunting your every waking moment, and every time it echoed in your mind, you wanted to bang your head against a wall. Had you been reading into… whatever had been going on between the two of you? In your defense, it was hard not to. But it also made sense— his job was high-stakes, he was practically always on call, and, truly, it was one of the most dangerous jobs he could have. Of course he wouldn't want to be tied down.

"Ma'am?"

The soft word had you snapping back into the present, self-depricating thoughts disappearing as you looked into the face of the barista. She looked slightly concerned, and you realized she was holding the coffee you had ordered.

"Oh!" You felt your cheeks warm, realizing you had been so lost in thought that you had missed your order being called out, "Thank you, I'm so sorry."

She waved your apology away, sending you a small smile, "It's okay. Have a good rest of your day!"

You took your drink and found a seat outside— the breeze was cool and the air was crisp. It was a beautiful day, and you were thankful you'd managed to get it off. With how much extra work you'd been doing, you were ahead on almost all of your paperwork, and Hasegawa was at his wits' end, both trying to understand why you had thrown yourself into your work as you had, and to make you slow down.

The coffee you'd ordered was sweet and very caffeinated. One of the invisible handprints Narumi had left on you was increasing your caffeine addiction, as well as your taste for sugar.

The music in the cafe was calm, and the chatter was quiet. It was relaxing, and you found yourself calming down as you sipped your drink, scrolling on your phone absentmindedly. It was quiet outside, the quiet chatter of passersby mixing with the soft music playing from the cafe. Upon realizing your drink was empty, you stood, ready to bring it inside, debating on grabbing another one to go—

Everyone else around you froze, and for a moment, you could feel your heart stop in your chest. No one moved, and for a moment, no one spoke. Another tremble of the ground, and you watched almost in slow-motion as a drink was shaken off a nearby table, crashing to the ground. Everything picked up after that; alarms going off on every phone, sirens blaring about the streets.

Kaiju attack.

The panic was immediate; everyone was up and out of their seats, drinks and food being abandoned on tables as people ran. You'd gotten used to hearing these alarms in the safety of the first base, but now you were out on the streets, panic running through your veins as you joined in the crowds of people hurrying to the closest evacuation sites.

Rarely had you found yourself in crowds like this; people were shoving and bumping into each other, panicked screams, and children crying. A crash echoed nearby, and you and many others ducked your heads, debris flying as a smaller-looking kaiju crashed through a building. The panic doubled at the sight of the monster, and you could feel bruises forming as elbows were thrown left and right.

A yoju at least, was the only thing you could be thankful for. But a yoju was still dangerous, was still deadly. It wasn't alone either, it seemed, as similar-looking creatures rushed about, crashing into buildings and destroying cars alike. It was hard to make heads or tails at this rate, screams beginning to sound like the roar of the kaiju.

It took you a moment to realize you were pushed onto the ground, head ringing as people continued to trip over you. Despite the ringing you could hear in your ears, you pushed yourself up, arms trembling as you sat up, trying to right yourself. It was only self-preservation that got you out of the way, leaning against a wall to catch your breath as you watched the crowd of people. A loud cry caught your attention, and you turned to see a young boy lying on the ground, clutching his leg.

No one seemed to pay him any mind, and for a moment, you were worried you'd watch a kid as young as him lose his life to being trampled by a crowd of panicked people. Despite the stinging in your entire body, you pushed yourself forward, pushing through to reach him, scooping him up with trembling hands.

"H-Hey, it's okay!" You pat his head clumsily, trying to calm his sobs.

The sobbing didn't stop, and you struggled to shift his weight to run off with him. The sobs died down, and you felt a slight feeling of relief at the quietness, but you turned, realizing why he had gotten quiet.

A kaiju— no, a honju stood before you. It looked like every nightmare you'd had combined, sharp teeth dripping red; blood your mind supplied. Its eyes— why did it have so many eyes— were darting about, three focused on the two of you, the rest on the remaining people nearby. It almost resembled a spider, but its legs looked like lizard legs, scales and all. You could feel a scream catch in your throat as you stared it down, tucking the young kid closer to your chest.

Was your blood to be next? Dripping from its teeth as it tore through your bodies?

There wasn't anything you could do— you couldn't run, you couldn't fight. All you could do was close your eyes and brace yourself, arms tight as you curled around the small kid. There was a loud screech, and you knew its mouth was coming for you, and then—

Warm. You were… warm. And wet. One eye blinking open, you realized you were covered in black goo. Kaiju blood.

Kaiju blood?

The realization hit you, and your head snapped up. The first thing you noticed was the weapon— sharp, glinting in the sun, covered in the same black blood that covered you. The next thing you noticed was how hard he was breathing, and he turned, eyes wide and panicked as he stared at you.

Narumi.

This close, you could hear voices through his headpiece, muffled, but loud. There was kaiju blood splattered nearly everywhere; some of it had gotten on you, had gotten on him, and his suit. It was warm, almost uncomfortably so. You could see movement behind where Narumi stood, and you vaguely recognized other defense members rushing around, weapons drawn as they fought off some of the smaller kaiju.

Narumi didn't move, though. He was still standing in front of you, weapon drawn, blood running down the blade onto the concrete. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you knew yours was as well. He stepped forward after a second, shakily taking one step, then another until he was right in front of you.

"Are you," You watched as he fumbled with his mask, hand shaky as he took it off, eyes studying you— you could see the sign of kajiu number one on his irises, "Are you hurt?"

The tension and adrenaline were bleeding out of you, and the ache in your arms and legs began. You let your arms loosen around the kid you were holding, though his grip on you didn't lessen at all; if anything, his hold on you tightened.

You cleared your throat, voice weak as you responded, "Just… a few bruises. Nothing major."

Though it didn't seem like your answer placated him. You could hear someone yelling through the headset, and after a second, you realized that it was probably his team trying to get him to turn and go back onto the field. Before you could scold him or shoo him off, he took the earpiece out.

"You— when I had seen that you were here— and then you ran back and—"

You glanced down at the kid who was still trembling in your arms, face buried in your side, "He skinned his knee trying to run. I- I'm not a defense force member, but I wasn't going to just leave him."

Narumi seemed to be struggling to find what he wanted to say, eyes wide and wild in a way you'd never seen on him. Finally, he knelt down on one knee, one of his hands reaching out to gently pat the kid's hair, trying to pull his attention from hiding.

"Hey, kid, you're okay now. No need to worry."

You felt more than heard the kid sniffle a few times before turning his head to look at Narumi. You watched the fear slowly melt off, awe on his tear-tracked face as he came face to face with Captain Narumi. Slowly, he let you go, moving to stand next to you rather than plastered to your side. Another member came running up, and the look on Narumi's face hardened as he was called for.

"Help the kid find his parents," Narumi stood up, voice back to being Captain of the first base, "Now."

The member nodded, holstering their weapon as they came up to the little boy, taking his hand and helping lead him away from the debris. Narumi watched them walk off before turning back to you, eyes hard and lips thin.

"Don't you ever do something so stupid again."

You blanched at the demand, no, command. "I didn't—"

"No, there is no excuse I'll accept," He stepped forward, hands grabbing your biceps with a slight shake, "I wasn't going to say it in front of that kid, but if you are ever in a situation like this again, you fucking run. I don't care if a kid falls or an old lady gets stuck in her car, you run. You prioritize yourself, do you hear me?"

You could feel his hands trembling from where he held you, and truth be told, his grip was tight enough to bruise you, but it was grounding. "That doesn't sound like something Captain Narumi should be ordering."

"Damn it," Your joke clearly fell flat based on the aggressive way he said your name, "I'm not joking. I don't care if it's out of line for me to say, but you can't— you can't do something like this again. You can't risk your own damn life!"

"You risk yours every day!"

"I'm trained for it! You're not!" Your arms curled up in front of you, trying to create some space as he pulled you closer to him, "What you did was reckless and you could have died and," His words faltered, voice sounding choked, "And if I were a second too late, you would have died."

The realization hit you the same time it seemed to have hit him, and you could fear the fearful tears building back up, spilling over your cheeks.

"You could have died." He repeated it, quieter this time, "Do you understand that? You could have died, and then you'd have left me, and it would have been my fault."

He was looking down now, eyes unfocused, and you swallowed, "It would have been the kaiju's fault, really. Not yours."

Narumi chuckled after a second, but it didn't sound amused; he sounded almost defeated with the way his head hung, "I don't just mean now, I mean before. I did something, and you're mad at me, and I don't know what I did. And if you died here 'cause I wasn't quick enough, then you'd have died after I ruined our relationship and—"

He cut himself off as you reached your hands out, hands shaky as you cupped his jaw, tilting his head up to look at you. His eyes were glassy, and his nose looked red.

"Narumi!" The yell through the earpiece in his hand was loud enough to be clear now, and Narumi closed his eyes with a sigh, scrambling to put the piece back in his ear.

"What Hasegawa?"

He made no move to remove your hands; if anything, he leaned into your hold further, and you made no effort to let go. The look on his face told you he wanted to argue with whatever he was being told, and you knew it would take so much for him to be fired, but you didn't want to risk anything. You squeezed your hands, drawing his focus to you.

"It's okay," You smiled shakily, knowing you looked a mess as you tried to comfort him, "Go. I'll— I'll go see a medic and go back to the base."

"My room," Narumi sounded hoarse as he told you, clearing his throat, "Wait for me there. Please?"

“Hi.” You wring your hands together, “Um.” 

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue and chuckling when you don’t. He opens the door wider. “C’mon,” he says, motioning his head inside his room. You stare at his back as you follow him in, taking in his broad shoulders and admiring the way his muscles ripple inside his shirt before closing your eyes and shaking your head. He’s not yours to look at. 

Focusing instead on the room, you take note of how both sides are equally as dysfunctional. Not messy, just…crowded. “Where’s Osamu?” 

He settles onto his bed, unmade, legs spread, and pushes his laptop to the side. “With Rin.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

You rock on your heels as your gaze slides all around the room, purposely avoiding his. “So…” 

“So?” He tilts his head in that cute way he always does when he finally catches your eye, smiling teasingly. “I’m not complainin’ about ya bein’ here, but you look like you have something ya wanna say.” 

He’s right. A wave of fervor pours over you, and you nod your head in determination to do what you came here for, pushing the creeping feeling of dejection far from your mind. “I need some answers.”

“Uh, huh.” His mouth twists in confusion. “Ta what, exactly?” 

“To how long it’s going to be.” Your legs take you around the small space, pacing back and forth as you clench and unclench your fists.

“Right…” He trails off. “I’m a little lost here, sweetheart.” 

You think you might melt with the affectionate name, but you brush over it. He’s just like that. “How long it’s going to be until you ask out this person you like so much.” 

He suddenly tenses, back straightening and thick eyebrows furrowing. “Oh.” Brown eyes track your movement. “I’m not, uh, sure I can answer that?” 

You shake your head. You think back to the conversation you guys had a few days ago, where he told you all about this person that he’s interested in. You remember him using words like so pretty, so amazing. A flush on his cheeks as he told you about why he likes them so much. Refusing to tell you who the person was, so maybe you could try to understand why it wasn’t you. 

But it’s exactly that, it’s not you. But it hurts every single time you think about it. 

So that’s why you ended up here, late at night, a fire in your heart. If the person Atsumu likes isn’t you, you could at least push him to go out with them. You wouldn’t be left to hopelessly pine over him, and could instead get over it as you watched him with someone else, even if it would kill you. Save yourself before you get too invested, right? 

“Why not? The sooner the better. Aren’t you the one who told me that we have to go for the things we want?” 

Atsumu pushes himself off the bed, long legs striding to you and big hands holding your arms to stop you from moving around. He looks very confused now. “I was?” 

You ignore him. “Well then, it’s time to do something.” You make sure to look right into his eyes. “If you like them so much, there’s only one thing to do.” 

The grip on your arms tighten, and you shift your hands up to hold on to his elbows. His eyes widen, and you watch as different emotions pass through his face before an excited grin grows. He studies you, “How long have ya felt this way?”

“Since you told me.” You try to match his smile, despite the way your chest sinks. “Be brave, Atsumu. I know you are.”

“Yeah.” he nods, eagerly, bleached hair following the jerks of his head. “Yeah, okay.” 

Your gaze drops to the floor. “Great…” Great. 

At least one of you guys will get to be with who they want to. You just wish he wanted you.

You try to leave his hold, but his hands just squeeze your arms, your name falling from his lips in a soft breath. 

He gives you that smile, not the confident volleyball player one, but the one that you catch him with when he’s petting a puppy, or when he’s talking to his mother on the phone and he thinks no one is looking. The one that’s reserved for soft moments, and your heart constricts. But it’s not prepared for what comes out of his mouth next. 

when you look over at him, rin meets your gaze. his lips twitch as if he wanted smile before taking another bite of cake, “why are you looking at me like i said something unbelievable?”

“i don’t know! i just…you’ve never been very expressive about…anything like that.”

“mhm. that’s why i planned my script out. lies are easier with truths sprinkled in.”

“so me being in your best memories—”

“true.”

“having a hidden folder of us?”

“also true,” he replies. “and no you can’t see it,” he adds on with no hesitation. you pout but accept it, knowing that your own is still a secret for now. instead, you continue, “me being your best friend and you loving me?”

rin breathes out a laugh and rolls his eyes before responding, “despite what you might think, still very true.”

“uh huh,” you teasingly doubt. “then, wanting to be my fiance?”

you’re met with an unexpected beat of silence and you falter. rin’s smile disappears, but the soft look on his eyes doesn’t as he looks off at the parking lot. his voice is quiet when he finally answers, “true.”

“...what?”

at that, he barks out a laugh as he pushes his dessert aside to lean back on his hands, “i seriously just dragged you into an expensive, fancy ass restaurant under the guise of wanting a slice of free cake when we could have bought our favourite meals for less and you’re still shocked?”

he watches the expression on your face change as you flounder to find something to say. “you don’t have to feel pressured to like me back or anything. seriously, i just—” he takes a breath and smiles up at the clouds, a little in self-pity and not ready to look at you yet, “i needed to say it at some point so i thought i might as well go all in, y’know?”

a silence comes over the both of you. you think it should be awkward—you should want to curl into a ball and disappear. but you don’t. somehow, even now, rintarou manages to make you feel comfortable with everything going on, and the silence is just…understandable, almost comforting. rin is picking at the grass patch next to him when you look over, as if nothing had changed by his confession. but it didn’t sit right with you, and your gut twists at the thought of nothing changing in the way that mattered.

“well,” you say and wait for rin to look at you. he pauses and drops the grass in his fingers before tilting his head at you. “i think getting engaged skips a few steps but, um,” you clear your throat. rin’s heart is in his own throat as he watches you struggle a little to get up from your spot and onto one knee. “what are you—”

“i have my own folder of photos of us,” you blurt out. he blinks and your face is heating up but it’s too late to stop now. “i, uh, made it the first time we had to work on a project together, and we just ended up getting food and watching a new show. the first photo is you asleep with the weighted blanket.”

“and, i just, you—god i wish i had my own script,” you groan. rin snorts a little but stays quiet, knowing to let you take your time—there’d be time to tease you later anyway.

you bite your lip and try to figure out your words before continuing softly, “you mean a lot to me, rin. i seriously don’t know where i’d be if i didn’t know you and have you next to me for all these years. and i love you."

“so to my best friend,” you say, despite the heat you feel on your face and your heart pounding harder than ever before. “and the only person i’d let fake propose to me at a fancy ass restaurant just for a slice of cake”—you slide the ring off your own finger and hold it towards him—”will you be my boyfriend?”

the both of you stare and wonder if the other notices how the sunset has started—hues of pink, purple, and orange tinting the sky above you. and it’s only 20 minutes after you've become fiancés when rin shoots up with a grin, grabbing you closer to hold your face. you yelp as his hands cup your cheeks and his eyes flicker from yours to your lips. it’s 20 minutes after his own fake proposal that finally, finally, rintarou gets to kiss you for the first time. and it’s been 21 minutes, you guess, when he pulls back with a smile and answers, “i will.”

note from nia: hello. miau. suna lovers where r u. i don't think i need a part 3 for this so that's awesome. welcome to ur suna rintarou boyfriend/fiance arc!

join the taglist! :)

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So why on earth was he here now, sitting on one of your kitchen stools? The one that he used to always sit on when he came to see you when you were still dating with the reasoning that it ‘gave him a better view of you whilst you were scurrying around’.

Now you are ever aware of his gaze on you, entranced whilst fixing him a mere glass of water. 

Sliding it over to him on the marble countertop, he takes it with a grateful smile. “Thank you for allowing me to hide here, and I'm sorry about bringing you into all of this.”

“No problem, you got lucky that i have nothing better to do today,” you sigh, trying to tune out the clamours of the paparazzi that were residing outside of your apartment complex. Wandering over to the balcony window, you see that the swarm hasn’t decreased from when you last checked. 

Your poor, clueless neighbours. None of them deserved to be dragged into this. You wonder when it can all settle down.

“Reo?” You murmur. He glances over at you immediately, attentive purple eyes bright and wide in their curiosity. “Why did you come here out of all places?”

“You’re…” he falters. “You’re the first person I thought of, and I just so happened to be nearby.”

“Nearby? There’s nothing to do around my neighbourhood. What could you possibly have to do here?”

He looks away, shamefully staring down at his glass of water. “Errands. Stuff.” 

“Okay,” you trail off, not wanting to prod further. “So how are you thinking of getting out of this situation?”

“Does your apartment have another way out?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Well unless you want me to jump from your window, then my only way out is to wait,” he says with a shrug and you pinch the bridge of your nose. The clamours of the crowd below can be heard even on your second-level home, and no matter how badly you wanted to return to your work, a certain ex of yours is only another reason for your headache. 

Since the breakup, you never thought Reo would ever be here again, however, fate seems to have pulled peculiar strings to bring him back to you- on his birthday too.

You won’t admit that this all feels a little set up. Perhaps it was the universe mocking you for not being able to stop loving him, despite it being you who forcibly let him go so he could fulfil his soccer ambitions in England.

The last time you saw him, he was crying at your doorstep, reluctant to go and to let you go. It is a sight that will always haunt you, especially when you then shut the door in his face and ultimately, ending your relationship.

Would you let him go again if you had the chance? No. Reo won’t ever know that, though.

You doubt he wants you back.

“Maybe you needed a better disguise if you wanted to escape the paparazzi,” you mutter.

Reo fiddles with his sunglasses. “Don’t scorn a man who just wanted to go out. I can’t even do anything normally nowadays anymore, not even in Japan.”

“Well, yeah, you’re kind of a big shot, Mr-Signed-With-Manshine-City,” you huff. "It's like high school and your fangirls all over again."

“You remember my team?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It's all anyone talks about, especially after the World Cup.” 

“And you listened?” 

“Of course I did,” you confess, no louder than a whisper. “I’m happy for you, Reo. You're really amazing.”

Something about your sentimental statement makes the purple-haired frown, looking away as an obligatory ‘thank you’ slips from his lips.

There’s a quip resting on the tip of your tongue about it being his birthday, but it slides back down your throat with the ease of paper, cutting you in the process. 

“Can I request something from you?” You question.

“Anything," the athlete looks over at you with hopeful eyes.

“Since you’re using my house to hide in, can I have your Netflix password so we can watch a movie or something?” You murmur, “something’s telling me that you’ll be here for a while.”

He laughs, bright and exuberant and boyish that it makes your yearning expand tenfold. “Sure, as long as I get to pick what we watch.”

Your heartstrings soften a little, “fine. I have popcorn somewhere so let me get that out.”

It only takes one movie for the clamour outside to disappear. You’re sure that your neighbours called the police at some point too given then flash of red and blue that illuminated onto your walls, but there was little conflict, and eventually, the quiet returned. You should be grateful for it, really, because your headache can calm and you can get back to doing your work, but it also means that this is the end of yours and Reo's paths. He’ll leave your apartment, and then Japan, and then your life will return to the seven month-long limbo that it was without him, with possibly no due date this time.

He stays around until the end of the movie, however, and when it’s over, he stands with a huff, hands on his knees to help push him up. If you weren't too focused on your dread, you'd have noticed the subtle reluctance clinging to him.

“I ‘ought to be going now, I’ve been in your hair long enough,” sighs the soccer player. “Thank you for allowing me over.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” you mutter. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise. you lo-” Reo’s eyes widen before he shuts his mouth, visibly shaking the sentence away as you’re filled with an invasive sense of curiosity. You want to pry his words out of his mouth, but you don’t think that’s appropriate for your current relationship. “I’ll see you sometime.” 

“Yeah. I’ll be here.”

He nods. During the time of your conversation, the two of you had made it to your kitchen and to your horror, Reo stops right before your calender. He glances at it and has to do a double-take, making sure that his eyes hadn’t failed him.

How will you recover from this one?

Reo turns to you, eyes and smile soft and so so warm. “You still have my birthday marked down.”

“Oh. You’re right!” You laugh awkwardly. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you. I’m honoured you remember.”

“Oh my goodness, please shut up,” you hide your face with one hand and Reo laughs harder.

“Do you remember how old I’m turning as well?”

“We’re the same age! Of course I'd remember-”

“-do you have a present for me? You know I love presents.”

“Go buy your own damn presents, you multimillionaire.”

He laughs harder and you almost want to chase him out of your house. “But I like it when they’re from other people!” 

“I don’t have a gift for you, Reo, now can you please shut up?”

“If you don’t have a present then can I ask you for one thing?”

“What is it?”

“A date. Tomorrow, at your favourite place downtown.”

The light, cheery environment dims and you find your breath getting lodged in your throat. “Reo… I- we, we shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He asks, “do you still love me?”

“I have your stupid birthday on my calender and no one else’s, not even mine, so yes I do still love you.” 

He grabs your hands and you feel weak in the knees, clasping onto the warmth you had grown so familiar with. “Then another chance, please, that’s all I ask for.” 

“I let you go for your sake, you shouldn’t have someone like me dragging you back whilst you’re in England. Didn't you see how successful you were without me?” You mutter, thinking back to the night that you let him go, recalling all the pain you felt. 

And how you might relive it again tonight.

“Dragging me back?” he parrots, voice slightly strained. “I thought about you the entire time I was abroad, every training session, every time I scored a goal, I thought about doing it all for you. It might have hurt me to not have you there with me, but it killed me to know that I didn’t have you at all.” 

Reo rests his forehead against yours and you close your eyes, basking in the intimacy that you never thought you could ever experience again with him. “And it killed me even more to know that you wouldn’t be waiting there for me when I came home. You know who was there instead? Stupid Zantetsu, and a few high school friends, but not you.”

“I love Zantetsu though, we get coffee together all the time,” you comment quietly. “He told me that he was going to pick you up.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t even think of going with him.”

“Exes don’t go to the airport to pick each other up.”

“So be my lover again,” pleads Reo. “Be mine again, be here for me every time I return to Japan.”

“Is it what you want?"

“A thousand times yes.”

You sigh through your nose, memorising the feeling of his forehead against yours one last time before parting from him. “Then pick me up tomorrow, at half past six, and we can go downtown.” 

His smile could rival that of a thousand suns, and just seeing it is enough to cure your heart.

“Okay,” he nods, a dreamy sort of look settling in the purple hues of Reo’s gaze. “Okay! I'll be here, without paparazzi this time, and no one will disrupt our date, I'll make sure of it.”

“One more thing before you leave. Stay here!” You command before scurrying through your house and into the study to retrieve a pen. Uncapping it, you then scribble a little heart on the calender, right next to Mikage Reo’s name.

You don’t miss the look of pure elation on his face.

“Call me. My number hasn’t changed.”

“Okay, I will, I will. Watch out for it.”

“Then I look forward to it.”

“Now I really don’t want to leave,” he whines, gently pressing you against the wall with his hands holding onto your shoulders. “It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to ask to stay the night, would it?”

“No, but, I think we’re beyond your awkward gentleman-liness.”

“Then, I have permission to do this, right?”

He presses his mouth to yours, hot and needy, you wonder if he’s trying to swallow you whole so you really can’t ever leave again. 

“Happy Birthday, Reo,” you murmur against him.

“you need to bend your knees a little more.”

frozen stiff from the unexpected company, you awkwardly try to bend your knees further, all while staring at the ground. if sae was nice, he’d laugh and joke around with you, asking why you seemed so scared of him. but he’s not, so he only sighs and stands beside you while you try.

after a few more seconds, sae understands you don’t really understand so he moves to push down on your thigh, and by then you really freeze up, falling flat on your ass in front of him.

sae wants to laugh now, really, because it’s amusing how nervous you are. for no good reason too.

the next time sae talks to you, it’s during lunch time when he queues up behind you. on purpose. he doesn’t even usually eat from this stall, but seeing you there makes him want to mess with you a little. he purposely stands a little too close, makes himself prone to an accidental bump.

which does happen. because you’re just like that.

“oh, sor—” you stop midway as if realising it’s sae immediately dissolves you of any obliged apologies. “sorry,” you force out before whipping your attention back in front. the both of you don’t talk in that moment and sae can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

but sae continues to help you during phys ed classes, and you still try to get assigned to be his group mate. nothing groundbreaking happens during sophomore year of high school because nothing is born out of it.

nothing, except maybe a tiny bit of sae’s inexplicable emotions for you.

HIGH SCHOOL: SENIOR YEAR

sae thinks maybe you went to a shrine over the holidays. how else would he explain you finally getting partnered with him on a project? and to top it off, it’s a two-person team for the entire year.

you get him all to yourself.

the moment the teacher calls your name after his, it’s like sae can practically see your tail wagging. you manage to compose yourself when you catch him staring at you though.

it’s a little cute, if he’s being honest.

“so, what do you think our project should be about?” your voice wavers a little when you speak to him. is he that intimidating?

sae wonders what if he tries to be a dick during this project. would you be obedient or would you actually bite back?

he tries to find out.

sae shrugs and acts disinterested, staring out the window of the second floor of the library where you’d both agreed to meet to work on it together. “don’t know, don’t care, think you could handle it for us? i’ve got too many soccer trainings, too tired.”

for a split second, you’re taken aback—he sees you sitting upright a little more, blinking twice at him because surely that’s not what you imagined your crush to behave like. not when he has straight As and is almost the top of your cohort.

and for a while, sae thinks you might actually be the former; obediently listening to him, making sure he’s happy. but then you furrow your brows and clench your fists and go “itoshi sae, who do you think you are” and oh, oh, you’re not the former, you’re the latter and you’d actually kill him if he was a dick. fuck.

somehow his hands instinctively come up in surrender and his mouth opens, “i was just kidding.”

it’s almost comical how your expression softens up immediately and you laugh, and sae keeps staring at you because you actually have a really nice smile. he never really noticed it before. and when the two of you actually get started on the project, sae finds himself observing you more than actually contributing.

yeah, you’re really quite pretty.

“any plans for the summer?”

it’s now almost july and summer break is around the corner, and to be honest sae’s kind of bummed about it. it’s beyond him why not seeing you would make him disappointed, but he’s not going to try and pursue the reason. he has his training camps to worry about.

“soccer. you?”

“mmm, a short trip with my parents.”

usually sae would leave it at that, but he asks about you, and he sees that tail wagging again. “where?”

“just gonna go to hokkaido,” you tell him. and you look like you’re anticipating him to ask more, but sae’s stuck. he doesn’t really know what to ask. he’s not exactly curious as to what you’d be doing there.

so you take matters into your own hand when you swiftly grab his phone from the table, key in your number and call yourself from his phone before putting it right back. sae watches you the whole time, wondering when exactly you’d gotten this bold.

“there, now you can’t escape me even over summer break.”

and he doesn’t. because you text him about your trip when you’re there, you send him pictures of the scenery and of the food you’re eating and you’re really inconsiderate because you send him that shit when he’s stuck in soccer bootcamp with twenty-four sweaty guys who’s none the better than him.

sae can end it by all means, just by not responding to you, but for the first time, talking to someone isn’t really a pain, and he thinks you’re kind of funny and the stickers you send are kind of cute so he’ll let this continue. even if by continue he means sending mediocre, lacklustre responses that just barely manages to keep the conversation going.

(in sae’s mind at eighteen, sending replies like okay and i see are considered acceptable and subjectively considered effort.)

when summer break finally ends and it’s early september, sae finally sees you again while he walks to school. he walks a little faster just to catch up to you before he adjusts his pace, acts like it’s coincidence that he’s right beside you.

and somehow he’s made it a routine; to memorise what bus you get off of and catch you on the way to school. even if he sees you in classes and even after classes in the library.

you’re acting a little less like he’s on a podium and more like normal friends and he kind of likes that. he likes being able to see you unfiltered when you gossip, likes seeing you laugh at stupid lame jokes, likes the way you hang close to him whenever you’re beside him.

okay maybe like is a little stretching it, he doesn’t mind being able to tolerate it. or maybe he’s just in denial, whatever.

winter comes and it’s somehow the time when more girls try to talk to him, mainly because somehow the school decides to hold a winter event this year; it’s going to be held near the edge of the city, where the biggest skating rink is.

by his guess, most girls are looking for a guy to have a skating date with.

in the library during your usual meetup for the school project, sae gets more than a couple visitors trying to get him for that same reason. you eye everyone that approaches the table, and sae can’t help but notice how he actually likes when you’re pouty. maybe it’s his twisted thinking that jealousy means you’re still into him.

“itoshi-kun, i was thinking whether you wanted to go to the winter event together?” another girl from your class, mizuno, asks him, and sae is tired of it, frankly. but he doesn’t show it. he only looks at you, and you look back at him because he doesn’t usually stare for this long.

then, he looks at mizuno and rejects her.

“sorry, can’t, i’m going with y/n.”

(you get home that day being completely flustered and completely happy.)

on the day of the event, sae keeps his word. he goes with you, sticks beside you the entire time. his friends snap pictures of the two of you and you always look so embarrassed. maybe you’re just not used to all of this attention. but that’s fine, it’s cute.

one thing he learns about you is that you can be real clumsy sometimes. like now, when you get so excited over your watermelon slushie that you somehow spill it all over your jacket and clothes.

sae ends up giving you his puffy winter jacket while he braves the cold with whatever he has left. that’s fine, he’s strong. besides, getting to watch you wear his jacket the entire time feels like a bonus somehow.

he thinks by now you should confess already, but you don’t. you’re happy to stay in this bubble with him right now, whichever phase the two of you are at. so is he. it feels kind of nice.

feels especially nice when you hang onto him for dear life in the skating rink even though neither of you are moving. sae’s aware that people are staring holes into both of you but it’s strange how much he doesn’t mind when it’s with you. that’s why he holds his hands out, lets you take them, makes himself pull you along. he finds himself wishing neither of you were wearing gloves so he could feel how soft your hands are.

by the end of the day, everyone takes it that the both of you are together, even though the both of you are too avoidant to talk about it.

“hey, sae? thanks for today,” you say later that night when everything is done and you’d had the giddiest experience with sae. he’s walking you home and he doesn’t even know why; it’s a mystery to him why he keeps himself close whenever he can.

“it’s fine, i was the one who told people i was going with you, so.”

when he gets you to your front porch, you don’t go in immediately, standing right there with your back facing him, and sae wonders what’s going through your head. if only he could see the expression on your face right now, maybe he’d know.

you let him; because you turn around, giving him a big smile before you take a step forward and press a chaste kiss on his cheek, immediately turning on your heel and running into your house.

neither of you say bye, both of you are just a little too stunned to speak. sae stands out there in the cold for a little while longer, his face and ears red—he’s not even sure whether it’s from the weather or from you—but even when he starts to leave, you’re still slumped at your front door, covering your face in embarrassment, knees too weak to stand up.

there’s only one more quarter left until you graduate and sae and you both act like nothing happened that day. you still gossip unfiltered and he still listens but acts like he doesn’t.

except now instead of sitting across from you, he opts to sit directly beside you. sometimes sits a little too close just so your arms will brush against each other. sae also lets you keep his puffy jacket because you said you liked it.

you wear it throughout winter.

when graduation comes around and it’s time for sae to choose his university, he can’t help but take a peek at your screen. a smile comes to his face when he sees your first choice is the same as his. you’re smart too, he doesn’t doubt you’ll get in.

“itoshi sae, you can smile?”

sae immediately turns it into a frown. “guess not.”

you take your words back. “hey, i’m just kidding! it’s just rare… that’s all.”

so you notice him a lot then?

sure, you might not have seen him smile a lot. but that’s fine. from what sae knows, you have the entirety of your university years to possibly catch it.

UNIVERSITY: FRESHMAN YEAR

of course you enter the same university as itoshi sae. it’s not on purpose, but you’re glad you both made it here anyway.

at least knowing one friendly face is better than none.

to be honest, you’re not really sure where you and sae stand. he’s never said anything about that kiss, but he also doesn’t stay away from you. can you take that as a positive thing?

if anything, he’s even closer.

somehow, his dorms and yours are practically next door. when you open your bathroom window, you can look right into his. it happened once, by accident, and you’d caught him, shirtless with just a white towel hanging around his neck, hair damp as he brushes his teeth, the droplets of water on his abs looking very inviting.

but then he caught you staring and you’ve shut your bathroom window ever since. thankfully, he never mentions it.

being in university and staying in campus meant that you were both hanging out much more informally. and you’d think that two people at the age of nineteen who’d known each other for three years would be less awkward than this but it’s you and sae and somehow there’s always an element of awkwardness.

it’s halfway into your freshman year and you’d just watched the first match that sae’s playing for the university team. you’re a little starstruck, honestly. to think that the guy you’ve always had a crush on is this good at soccer.

he’s amazing. you’re feeling like a potato sack.

“hey, you know him right?” hime gushes.

your friends are with you, so it’s natural they ask.

mira on your left sighs, “guess we have no shot with him since he’s with y/n all the time,” she says, nudging you in the elbow.

you’re starting to regret bringing them here with all the teasing. you’re also regretting coming here yourself because you see several girls running to him asking for a picture together. some of which you recognise, some of which are the popular girls.

sae doesn’t stop them from snapping what they can, but he also doesn’t stop for them at all. instead, he saunters over to you, hime and mira wordlessly disappearing to the side.

“gimme that,” sae says, gesturing to the phone in your hand. you obey, of course, and he smirks, then he snaps a selfie with you before tossing your phone back and walking off.

the pairs of eyes on you make you half-embarrassed yet half-proud. even with this many fangirls, sae chooses to come to you.

that night sae asks you to send him the picture.

yeah, maybe you can take that as a positive thing.

freshman year after that is generally uneventful. you and sae are both trying to find your footing, with him preoccupied mostly with soccer trainings while you’re drowning in assignments and projects that have nothing to do with him.

but you still see him in the mornings sometimes, when you walk past your common room and he’s in his, and you wave at him when he’s alone so you’re not so shy, and he nods in acknowledgement before he just walks away.

one night while you’re burning the midnight oil trying to cram some accounting knowledge into your brain, you get a text from sae.

wanna get supper?

both of you end up at one of the supper spots outside of school, a little cosy shop that sells boba and ramen even after midnight.

“why’d you wanna get supper?”

sae shrugs, taking a sip of his plain water. “just bored, couldn’t sleep.”

“isn’t this soccer season? you can’t even eat anything in here, it’s definitely not passable for your diet.”

he sighs, leaning back against his chair. “so? quit whining and start eating your shit already.”

if it was some other guy you’d be rolling your eyes and storming off. but it’s sae and you know him and he thinks he’s talking normally like this. besides, when you catch his eyes flicker up to lock with yours you get a little dizzy inside.

“what’re you up so late for anyway?”

sae’s fingers are drumming lightly against the surface of the metal table, teal eyes diligently observing as you bring the strands of noodle to your lips. “told you, i couldn’t sleep.”

you find that strange; he’s always been able to sleep, no problem. and he’s strict about his eight hour sleep schedule. what could be getting to the great itoshi sae?

(sae’s lying through his teeth; having his bedroom right across from yours means he can see when your lights aren’t out. sue him for being a little concerned.)

“so, heard you and the team are going on a soccer trip somewhere in europe,” you bring up. you’d heard it from your friends, strangely, instead of sae himself.

he nods. “yeah, just a select few,” he tells you, “only if we win the tournament though, then the team’ll officially invite us over.”

so-called team you heard about is real madrid, and you’d be crazy to think that sae couldn’t help your university team win on his own.

“guess i won’t be seeing you around when you go,” you mumble idly, not completely aware of what you’re basically saying.

sae is adept at reading in between the lines, but he doesn’t probe you on it. he’s not sure he wants to. he doesn’t know what this is. do you still like him? does he like you too? all these feelings are new; sae doesn’t know what to do with it.

so he keeps it to himself. for now.

he doesn’t really do a good job at following through with it though, because on the day of the tournament finals, he looks at you and winks right as he orchestrates that winning goal for his team, and you’re left wondering if you’re imagining things.

UNIVERSITY: SOPHOMORE YEAR

the final part of your freshman year went and gone, and it didn’t go exactly how you imagined it to be. you didn’t expect to hear from sae at all when he went on his trip after that tournament.

but you did.

he replied you whenever he had the time. told you anything you asked for. even called you when you had a mini meltdown because of finals.

to be frank, you don’t know what the both of you are anymore. you’re cursing yourself for being too scared to ask.

“hey y/n, have you seen hime anywhere?”

it’s oliver asking, captain of the university’s soccer team and also hime’s current situationship. he’d started hitting her up since that first time sae played and brought attention to you and the people around you.

“yeah, she’s by the pool with mira.”

oliver leaves as soon as you tell him, and you stand awkwardly at the corner of the living room, by the full panel of glass windows, wondering if you should just go home. you’d only came because hime and mira both said you needed to experience a party at least once this year but now you’re surrounded by people making out and drunkards slipping into the pool that it makes you regret giving this a shot at all.

especially since sae’s not going to be back till tomorrow, garnering as much interest as he did during his time in spain. you really have no reason to be here.

“hey there, pretty.”

startled, you find a familiar face up close in your personal space, his finger twirling your hair. you’d recognise that head of blonde and pink anywhere.

“oh, you’re ryusei shido right? you’re on the soccer team with sae,” you think out loud, and he nods, and you can see his blonde lashes so closely it’s making you flustered.

“mhm, fwhat’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a corner? seems like a shame,” he comments, though he doesn’t even give you a chance to answer. the next thing you know, shido drags you into a drinking game with hime and mira (which is why your first instinct wasn’t to run off, if you could trust anyone it’s your best friends). although, shido is getting annoyingly close and you can’t decide if you’re nervous or annoyed.

and the heavens surely love you when they let shido draw the card that corresponds to a dare, and they love testing your boundaries when some guy called otoya dares him to kiss you.

but no, you know that the heavens really do love you when someone yanks shido’s hair back and pulls him away from your face, taking his spot in between the both of you in the bid for proximity that you don’t mind because it’s itoshi sae.

“sae, what’re you doing here? i thought you wouldn’t be back till tomorrow,” you ask, a little shell-shocked but you still notice he’s discerning frown and how there’s barely any space between the two of you.

he looks at you, tilting his head, “what? my girl’s not happy to see me here?”

you don’t respond. half because you think you’re dreaming and fuck—really, did he just call you his girl?

“eh? i don’t recall you having a girlfriend?” shido leers, a hand on the spot of his head where sae had pulled on earlier.

“yeah, besides, shido still has to do the dare.” otoya sounds bored more than anything, but the guy beside him, karasu, if you remember correctly, is smirking.

sae sighs, and you feel like you must’ve crossed the boundary to another dimension when you feel sae’s lips on yours, and you think you’re in limbo when you feel his hand on your neck, pulling you close. his tongue pries your lips apart and people are whistling while shido’s behind him saying get a fucking room or i’ll beat off to this.

when the object of your affection finally pulls away, you’re met with the same pair of unbothered teal eyes, the pair that immediately turns to face otoya. “there, did it for him. now move on.”

you’re beginning to thank alcohol for its existence when almost everyone obeys wordlessly, moving on to some other guy’s turn. you really can’t remember who sits on shido’s right when all you can think of is that itoshi sae, your longtime high school crush, actually kissed you.

that’s enough to warrant the question, right? the question of what sae takes you for?

the inner debate sparks long into the night, even when sae walks you back to your apartment, the both of you side by side in silence.

“sae, what was that?”

he plays coy. “what was what?”

you’re only a little tipsy, so you can still tolerate his avoidance. “you confuse me a lot, you know that?”

sae doesn’t take the bait. “oh, i see.”

“you were jealous.” he was. he really was. you can tell; he was sour to shido the entire night. he stuck close to you too, sometimes your fingers brushed against each other’s.

“so what if i was?”

this one is new. sae’s actually admitting it. and usually you’d chicken out but you can see your apartment coming into view and you don’t want to let this go.

“what am i to you, sae?” you manage to choke it out a few feet away from the door, and sae stops in his tracks, hands in his pocket and teal eyes looking heavenward.

you’re beginning to regret your decision to ask; you’re not sure if his indecision is a good or bad thing. nothing seems to be simple when it comes to itoshi sae.

but he does nothing to appease your confusion when he steps in front of you, his body pressed flush against yours as he presses another kiss to your lips, and you think this one is special because it’s not done in the name of a dare or in front of anyone else. this kiss is for you and you alone and sae is doing this on purpose.

when he pulls back, you see him furrow his brows and you can tell that maybe he’s just as confused as you are.

“when i managed to get an earlier slot for my flight, all i could think about was how excited i was to see you.”

is this… a confession? you’re even more confused now that you don’t even know what to say.

to be honest, so is sae, which is why he swallows the lump in his throat and relegates to his apartment, “goodnight.”

things after that change just a little.

you’d decided to go with the flow, just because you really don’t want to sabotage whatever friendship you and sae had left, although most of the time, sae is the one toeing the line. even though he doesn’t outright tell you anything regarding his feelings.

but you think you figured him out.

sae asks you out whenever you’re both free, and not for shit like studying or errands, but for movies and dinner and he drives you around in his car and looks at you like you’re the only girl he sees. his eyes don’t wander when he’s with you, and he lets you wear even more of his jackets. it’s also evolved to his jerseys and his beloved windbreakers. you have one of each in your own closet and he never seems to ask for them back anymore. he also lets you wear his rings, puts them on your fingers randomly.

both of you still go for parties, especially when it’s one of the soccer guys who are throwing it, because they practically force sae to go and they know you’re the key to convincing him.

most of the time the two of you just laze on the couch, drinking and talking about nothing at all, and he idly plays with your fingers when he’s tipsy, something you never tell him because you like it, because you don’t want him to feel self-conscious and stop. he also smells your hair after he sends you home and hugs you before he retreats to his place, and you wonder if he’s fully sober when he does that.

you resign to getting your answer some other time, because you don’t want anything to ruin this, if this is just an illusion. yeah, you’d talking feelings some other time.

UNIVERSITY: JUNIOR YEAR

you really had no right to be, but you are. try as you might, you can’t stop yourself from feeling the way you do. especially not when she’s sitting so so close to him, when her hand brushes his fingers.

she’s just his project partner, nothing more, but something irks you about the way she can get so close to him so quickly when it took you much longer. but then you hear from shido that kaori is rin and sae’s childhood friend, so maybe that’s why they’re so damn close.

apparently, she’d gotten back to japan after ten years abroad. with great timing too, right when you thought you and sae could amount to something.

“you know, i could help you make him jealous if you wanna,” shido whispers in your ear one time when he catches you staring at them. “we’ll make him feel how you feel, m’kay?”

and while that’s tempting, you shake your head. it’s unreasonable for you to take it out on him that way, not when he hasn’t actually done anything that proves he’s just leading you on.

lately sae’s been so busy around kaori that you’re just thinking too much. you’re wondering if he’s slowly replacing you. he still talks to you over text, but you barely hang out like you did before. you still spot him through the windows, but he’s always too tired to notice you. even his texts are getting slower.

“hey, you okay?”

trust it to hime to notice your personal dilemma. you’re not really surprised though, because she’s been watching you moping for the last few weeks. she now has oliver wrapped fully around her finger, with him sticking around her all the time, which is a surprise considering his reputation.

but hime will take your side, you know this, and maybe that’s why you play it off. you don’t want her to hate sae because of a momentary feeling, so you tell her you’re just sick and you’ll go back home.

the moment you get back to your apartment, you see sae waiting out on the front, car ready while he leans against the hood, waiting.

and you might’ve asked if he was waiting for kaori, but then he looks up and sees you and smirks and that’s all you need to know that he’s not. he was waiting for you, and now he’s opening the passenger side door and telling you to “get in, stupid.”

that’s how sae is with you, impromptu and surprisingly sweet. he drives you to the pier, a cute spot right next to an amusement park where he’d gotten you some candy floss before the both of you just sits on the hood of his car, enjoying the scenery.

“why’d you suddenly bring me here?”

sae lies down, the sun hitting his face in all the right places. he’s gorgeous, you realise for what seems like the thousandth time since you’d known him.

“oliver told me you’d been a little mopey lately,” sae says, and you’re already embarrassed. “sorry if i’ve been busy lately.”

you mirror his position, lying down next to him, and it feels oddly nice like this. you’re not sure if it’s the situation or the person.

“it’s okay, i heard that kaori’s your old friend right? you guys must have a lot to catch up on.” it doesn’t stop you from feeling jealous, but it’ll pass. you hope.

sae chuckles before he turns to you, and you turn to face him too, “you’re jealous.” he smirks, and you’re reminded of the same thing you told him that first night he kissed you.

“shut up, sae.”

he laughs because you’re being pouty, and because maybe it feels a little nice to know you can feel it too. just then, he mirrors what you did way back in high school, reaching across you for your phone. except he doesn’t key in anything—he opens up your camera and takes a picture of the two of you like this, sae looking naturally handsome and better than you because you’re stunned he’s doing this, eyes wide and expression puzzled.

“what’s that for?”

sae’s still fiddling on your phone as you ask, and then he passes it back to you. he’d set it as your phone’s wallpaper.

“to remind you that you’re the one i like, idiot.”

and even though you and sae aren’t physically too close in the wallpaper, you think maybe it’s enough to tide your feelings through for now. he doesn’t ask you for anything else after that, just leaves his confession at that and sends you home before saying he has to finish up his project, aka going to find kaori.

it’s fine by you though, because now you know where sae’s head’s at, even though he never explicitly asked you anything. you’re sure he knows how you feel too, especially since you’d been the one to kiss him first that day a few years back.

but how apt for you to go to sleep early and be woken up by dozens of messages blowing up your phone, the majority of them attaching pictures at a certain party.

still pictures of sae locking lips with kaori, and you feel your heart sinking.

sae’s message comes through just as you’re scrolling through your phone.

meet me at my place? not what it looks like, i promise.

and maybe it’s because you feel like you know sae well enough that you’re not even panicking. you respond within seconds.

sure, see you!

you take the liberty of going next door, entering when one of the other guys who lives there clumsily walks in drunk. it’s easy enough to find sae’s room, you recognise it from across your own room too well. and maybe it’s a slight invasion of privacy but you can’t help but turn your attention to his desk.

his room is all neat with the occasional laundry thrown on the corner of the room, trophies and medals on the bookshelf by the table. but what catches your eye is the little pink heart-shaped post-it note that looks all too familiar.

your handwriting fills the piece of paper.

i think you’re cute and i really really like you

you could cringe right now from how cringe you were being back then. but then you realise, sae kept this? did he keep this knowing it was from you? you hear the door opening downstairs and jump back a little, accidentally pressing on his keyboard while trying to place your note back in its position, and the screensaver that greets you renders you speechless.

it’s the picture sae took of the both of you at the bleachers of his first match.

someone closes the laptop before you can think any more, and you’re greeted with sae right next to you, cheeks flushed—either from alcohol or embarrassment. you can’t really tell, but judging from the lack of alcohol stench, you’d like to bet it’s the latter.

“you have me as your wallpaper?”

sae clicks his tongue, annoyed he didn’t get there in time for you not to see that. “who else would i put there?”

you bite your tongue to stop yourself from instinctively saying kaori out of spite. guess you’re still a little groggy from being woken up in the middle of the night.

“about earlier,” sae begins, not really sure how to continue.

“you mean the pics going around of you and kaori kissing?” you’re not even mad, you’re sure there’s an explanation—that’s how much you feel you know itoshi sae. he’s not the type to bother with leading someone on; if anything, he’s probably the type to immediately cut things off if he wasn’t interested and so far, he’s always been thinking of you.

sae sighs, rubbing his temple before taking a seat on his bed. “that was fucking stupid,” he grumbles, eyes closed. “she was way too tipsy and getting all up in my face and before i knew it she just—” his eyes are open now, briefly looking at you before looking away, hiding behind the sides of his soft locks, “she kissed me. i was stunned for a little so…”

you snicker a little, because sae looks so different from how he usually looks—aloof, ignorant, arrogant. now he looks like a puppy who’s been kicked to the side and you can’t help but notice the difference.

“sae… why are you telling me this?”

screw his indecisiveness, if it was in the first place. you want his answer now, up straight. and sae seems to know what you’re thinking because he chuckles, relieved because he can read your tone—you’re not angry, not upset, you trust him somehow and it’s only because despite what you think, you know him better than anyone else.

“fuck off, y/n, you already know,” and he says this affectionately because you can feel the tenderness in the way he says your name, in the way he invites you into his arms—the way he pulls you close and lets you sit facing him on his lap. “you gonna be my girlfriend now or what?”

your lips are so so close and you’re both holding back so so much. “mmm i don’t know, itoshi sae, what if i wanna see you beg me for it?”

“god, i hate you,” he says, without meaning it. it’s the first time you’re actually feeling how strong he is, because he lifts you up from the back of your thighs and throws you on his bed as he hovers over you, a little squeal leaving your lips at the unexpected gesture. “hm, kinda like that sound you make.”

he’s saying it so monotonously that you’re embarrassed. “shut up, sae, before i leave.”

“that’s cute, you think you’d actually leave me,” he teases, and you curse yourself for finding that slight condescending tone of his hot. “but hey, really, be my girlfriend.”

“you asking me that after kissing another girl?” you act shocked, acutely aware of how his fingers are all intertwining with yours, your hands on either side of your head, sae pinning you down. if anyone walked in now, they’d get the wrong idea of what you two are doing. for sure. but you try to act unbothered, you don’t want to boost his ego even more.

sae leans down to press his forehead against yours, and you’re hoping your heart doesn’t leap out of your chest because he’d definitely feel it. “shit timing, i know. but you’re the only one i want, so.”

he’s pretty shit at talking emotions, you realise. and then you realise that this only works because you’re equally good at reading his. despite his reluctance to talk emotions, he shows you how special you are, constantly.

many girls want him, but you’re the one he spends most of his time with. you’re the one with his actual clothes in your closet and his rings on your fingers. you’re the one sae kisses and willingly so, the only one who’s on his wallpaper reminding him of what he’ll have each time he comes home.

“i told kaori i liked you and no one else too,” sae continues explaining, though he really doesn’t need to. you listen anyway. “she got mad and stormed off but shit, i don’t care. only care about you.”

and he’s pretty forthcoming with his feelings when he wants to be and that’s enough for you. you squeeze his fingers lightly and smile at him.

you don’t have to hear any more to know.

“i love you too, itoshi sae.”

the way he marks you that night lets you in on everything you need to know.

UNIVERSITY: SENIOR YEAR

six years.

it’s been six years since you’d first had a crush on itoshi sae. and now you’re his girlfriend, always in the front row for every match and the object of most of his fangirls’ hatred. that’s okay though, none of that matters.

whenever you come back home to your (shared) apartment now, it’s like all your worries melt away into the void, and sae reminds you just how much you mean. even if his pet names are less than swoon-worthy at times.

“you really need to stop posting shit like this,” you deadpan, showing sae your phone screen. it’s a picture of you asleep in the morning, drooling on his bare shoulder.

sae blinks, acting coy like he always does. “what? it’s cute.”

“you’re insufferable, itoshi.”

sae ignores that, switching the subject. “hey, you have any goals for your twenties?”

you hum, pondering. “well, i guess if i could do what i want, i’d travel the world,” you pause, sitting up on the sofa and looking at him. “why?”

it’s the last year of university, and the both of you are finishing your degrees, with the possibility that sae might be getting a contract with one of the overseas clubs. you’re not really sure; there’s a few of them who’ve expressed interest, but you’d always let sae think through it on his own.

does his question have something to do with that?

“was thinking i wanted to take you along if you wanted to come with,” sae half explains, because he’s bad with details like that. he continues when he spots your confusion, “if you wanted to explore wherever i decided to go.”

oh, he means he wants to take you along to wherever he decided to go. you’re flattered, honestly.

“you mean, the itoshi sae wants to bring me wherever he goes, huh?” sae is already turning red, sensing your big head. “you offering to be my sugar daddy too?”

sae sighs. “you’re so stupid, i swear,” he complains, his words lacking any bite because he’s rubbing circles onto your arms. “you said you found some remote jobs right? thought we could make use of that and just go wherever together.”

after six years, you finally see sae trying to plan a future where the both of you are together. he loves soccer, but he loves you too, and you’re not the kind of person who’d make him choose, so you appreciate his compromises instead.

“itoshi sae, i’ll follow you wherever you go.”

he presses a hasty kiss on your lips, “good, ‘cause i plan on keeping you forever.”

you grin, pulling him down to you and kissing him even deeper, “i’ll hold you to your words, then.”

sae smiles against your lips. because he knows he got lucky with you, lucky you were there at the right moment, slipping your love letter into his locker. lucky you continued to like him, lucky you knew how to put him in his place whenever. lucky you’re you and you love him.

maybe he’s always liked you, even back in freshman year of high school when he realised how kind you are, how gentle you could be. you looked pretty in the sun that day, when he first saw you trying out soccer in the yard and falling flat on your ass. you didn’t notice him back then but he noticed you, not that you knew. sae didn’t try anything because he was sure it’d fail. but who knew all it took for his mind to change was a simple nudge from you?

he’s pretty sure that you’re his human manifestation of a forever.

kita nodded slowly, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand slowly. “okay”

he patiently waited for you to begin, yet your mouth went completely dry.

just how were you going to say this to him? could you even do it?

you knew you had to – you didn’t have a choice.

but how could you hurt someone who never did anything to hurt you?

“hey, take a deep breath,” he mumbled to you, “whatever it is, it’ll be alright, i promise”

you clenched your jaw, turning your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut.

just why did he have to be so damn understanding? why did he have to be so loving and caring?

why was he everything you ever wanted in somebody?

and why were you planning on breaking him?

“love? talk to me,” he spoke softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze after bringing it up to his lips and pressing a small kiss on it. “whatever it is, together we can work this out”

don’t do this. don’t be like this. just this one time.

you quickly shook your head, still not looking at him, when you felt your eyes getting teary.

“i don’t think we can work this out, shin,” you whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, your voice would break.

before he could even reply, you turned to him, looking at him with teary eyes. “i think we should break up”

kita could only look at you, completely shocked.

was this supposed to be a joke?

no, you would never joke about things like that.

then why?

after way too many moments of silence, kita could still only bring himself to mutter one word. “why?”

you hated to see him like this. his eyes were wide in horror, if not even shock, as he looked at you completely confused. his hand, the same one that held yours so securely just a few minutes ago, was loose around yours, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be touching you. his eyes, albeit wide open, looked more like he was staring right through you, not focusing on a single thing.

you hated this look on his face.

meanwhile kita felt like he couldn’t breathe, his thoughts running wild, filling his head with way too many concerns at once, before he managed to sort them, the next words spilling over his lips.

“did i do something wrong? did i hurt you?”

he looked so sad, so full of sorrow and guilt.

he couldn’t do anything to hurt you.

pressing his lips into a thin line he looked at your still intertwined hands, giving you a short, weak squeeze. he swallowed down a lump in his throat, looking down in shame before meeting your gaze again. “love, i’m so sorry”

how could he be sorry for something he never did?

“just tell me what it is and i promise i’ll do everything i can to fix it” he sounded so sure, like it was a fact that he was the one that did something wrong, that he had to make up for something, that he was the one at fault.

you were used to kita speaking with a matter-of-factly-tone, no matter what the actual subject matter was. but how could he be so convinced that he did something wrong? he— the one that always thought about the things he did, the one that always thought about what he said, the one that was always sure of what he did and always made sure to care for you, to love you.

and to never hurt you. and he never did.

but you had to hurt him.

you looked down on your intertwined hands, torn between the urge to give his hand a squeeze or pulling yours away. but could you really let him go? “no, shin, listen-,” you tried, only to have him jump in immediately, like he didn’t really hear you in the first place.

“and if you still want to do this, i’ll respect it, i promise. just please, let me do this,” he asked, no, begged, with a sad smile on his face.

it was safe to say that kita felt like you had just pulled the rug away under his feet. he felt lost, confused and most of all guilty. he had always tried to be the best version of himself for you, be the best partner he could possibly be— and even more than that.

did he slack off recently? did he forget an important date? did he neglect you?

“shin”

mentally he ran through the past days, weeks, months, the whole last years, analyzing pretty much everything he could remember. every time you fought, every dumb argument and heated discussion, every time his tone was a little off, every time he didn’t really understand just what you wanted from him and every small thing he might have forgotten. the days he forgot to ask you how your day was, the times he could only give you a short kiss before rushing out the door, the number of times he came home and simply wanted to go to bed, not having the energy to spend a lot of time with you after an excruciatingly hard day working.

was it all too much for you?

he rushed out the door one too many times, his tone was too sharp one too many times, he forgot to kiss you properly one too many times.

he couldn’t really blame you.

but was it really that? was it all of that? was it something else?

were you going to leave him hanging like this?

pressing his lips to a thin line, he forced himself to focus back to you. “at least tell me what i did wrong, please,” kita asked before lowering his head again, taking a deep breath to distract himself from his racing heart, blinking rapidly to get rid of the few stray tears in his eyes. “don’t just leave me like this”

you closed your eyes in shame, not wanting to look at kita so broken.

while he kept asking himself what he had done to you and why you never felt safe enough to talk to him about this, you asked yourself how you could do this to him.

a sad smile on your lips, you shook your head, still not daring to take your hand away from his, desperate to feel his warmth for as long as he would allow you to. “you didn’t do anything wrong, shin,” you whispered through the lump in your throat, your voice all hoarse, “nothing”

nothing?

his head shot up, looking at you with wide and teary eyes. “then why?”

and despite that he looked so calm and even resigned, like he wasn’t even going to protest as soon as you provided him with your reason.

now it was you who looked away, biting your lip as you stared on the floor. “i just,” you stopped, not even wanting to actually say it out loud and make it real. you didn’t want to believe it, much less say it. you still hoped that this was just a weird, long dream, one that you would wake up from and everything would be the way it was before.

you would wake up next to him and he would already be awake, greeting you with his deep morning voice, with a small and loving smile. you would simply mumble some greeting, still half asleep, and move over, putting your head on his chest. his hands would find their way on your back and your heart would skip a beat, your entire body filling with love.

but you haven’t woken up for multiple weeks by now. and you didn’t wake up now.

“i just fell out of love with you”

just like that, kita felt his heart stop in his chest, shattering into a million pieces.

you fell out of love with him.

he nodded slowly, spacing out.

so there was nothing he could do anymore, huh?

did he do too little for you? did he get too used to having you by his side? should he have been more attentive, take you out more, give you more flowers, more compliments and little gifts. he should’ve held you more, kissed you more, loved you more.

he should’ve been more.

maybe then you wouldn’t have fallen out of love with him.

“for how long have you been feeling like this?” he asked slowly, sounding almost shy, like he didn’t want to actually know.

and he truly didn’t.

for how long had he made you feel like this, for long did you feel like you had to stay in a relationship you didn’t want to be in solely because of him?

“i don’t know. for too long”

you knew exactly what thoughts were running in his head. you knew how he must be blaming himself, how he was trying to find any kind of fault in himself.

and there was nothing you could to to relieve him from this, even though none of this was his fault.

you doubted there was anybody at fault — and if there was, you were sure that it would be you.

you were the one that was breaking up with him, you were the one breaking his heart, you were the one that wasn’t perfect, unlike him.

he was always perfect. and that’s what hurt you so much.

he was the ideal partner — he was caring, loving, attentive. honest, loyal, open and always communicating. he was firm, but not strict or mean, never making you feel belittled. and if he did fuck up and do something wrong, he was quick to realize his mistake and apologize, willing to do everything to make up for it and change his behavior.

he was everything anybody could ever want.

and you were throwing him away just like so.

“okay,“ he whispered, nodding to himself before pulling his hand away, clasping his other one with it and putting them in his lap, taking his warmth away from you.

your fingers itched to reach out to him again, try to comfort him, protect him from the same pain that you inflicted on him. you clenched your jaw, clenching your hands into fists instead and digging your nails into your palm. “shinsuke, i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry”

“it’s okay,“ he breathed out, the corners of his mouth reflexively turning up for a second.

you shook your head, swallowing repeatedly. how was this okay or fair? and how could he even thing about comforting you when he was feeling like you were effectively ripping his heart out? “no”

“it is,” he replied immediately, a sad smile on his lips as he looked at you for a short moment. “you can’t choose how you feel, can you?”

you knew he was right — and yet that didn’t give you any comfort. instead, it only made your chest constrict in pain as you clenched your fist even more, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“i never wanted to hurt you,“ you breathed out, voice so weak that you felt like you couldn’t speak up without starting to cry.

why were you the one crying?

“i know” kita smiled sadly at you, looking down at his feet.

silence settled over the two of you, both of you occupied with your thoughts, before you decided to speak again.

“i packed a few things and i’ll stay over at a friend’s house,” you started slowly, getting up from the couch and stepping away from him. “and, uh, look for a place”

kita didn’t look up at you (probably for the better, you didn’t think you could handle his teary face), instead only nodding slightly, playing with the fingers in his lap. “okay”

you left him sitting there, rushing into your once shared bedroom to pack some essentials into a bag.

as you grabbed some clothes, you tried to ignore your blurring vision and the heavy feeling in your chest.

you didn’t want to leave him behind like that as you were gathering your things to leave what has been your shared home for so long.

and yet you had to, you knew it was the best thing to do.

because staying with him would hurt him even more.

when you returned, kita was still sitting in the same spot, looking like he hadn’t moved an inch.

and truly, he didn’t — he felt paralyzed.

was he not good enough? where did he go wrong?

what could he have done to make you fall out of love with him?

he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, clenching his eyes shut, like that would stop the tears from welling up in his eyes.

you shook your head at the sight.

how he could just sit there and let you break his heart, just like that?

“why aren’t you mad at me? you should be yelling at me, cursing at me, anything!” you bursted out, your bag falling on the floor next to you. kita jumped as he heard your voice, turning his head to look at you. he expected you to look angry, irritated, anything but seeing you with tears running over your cheeks. “why are you just letting me break your heart?”

he swallowed thickly before giving you another comforting smile, like the tears on his face weren’t even there.

“it’s not your fault. you can’t choose who you love” he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly at his words. “and also not who you fall out of love with”

you looked over at him, looking him up and down before speaking again, your voice slightly agitated. “so? how can you just take it like that?” you asked, gesturing in the air.

how could he just sit there and do nothing?

“nothing i’ll say will change this, won’t it?” he simply stated, sounding resigned. he looked over at you, noticing how you stayed silent, proving his point. “that’s why”

contrary to how that might look, kita wanted nothing more than to fight this. he didn’t want to let you or this relationship go.

he didn’t want to let go of the lazy mornings or late evenings, the trips to the farmers market or the dates at bakeries or cafés, the warm cuddles or cooking dates.

but did he really have a choice?

“i don’t want this, i still love you. i can’t look at you leave, knowing that there’s nothing i can do,” he confessed, twiddling his thumbs as he spoke. “but i will respect your choice and i will not fight to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me anymore”

a pained, but warm smile appeared on his face again when he noticed the tears rolling over your cheeks. “it’s okay. i’m not going to yell at you and i’m not going to call you names or hurt you in any way for something you can’t control”

you swallowed, grabbing your own thigh and digging your nails into the fabric of your pants. you couldn’t even look at him.

you were such a coward.

“why do you have to be so understanding, even in this moment?”

he sighed softly. “you know why,” he whispered, feeling the tears in his how eyes again, “i cannot bring myself to be mad at you and i don’t think i’m able to give you what you want right now. i’m sorry”

he was too good for you. and you were everything he wanted.

“don’t be” you shook your head, trying to blink away the tears as you wiped over your cheeks. “it was dumb to even try to bring you to yell at me. even dumber to ask you to do this to make this easier on me” you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head at yourself. “especially since i’m the one breaking up with you”

you scoffed at yourself before picking up your bag and finally walking towards the door, opening it with shaky hands.

and even though you had thought about this for weeks, way longer than you’d ever like to admit, you weren’t ready for a life without him.

“i’m sorry, shinsuke,” you croaked, still standing in the doorway with your back to him, “i really am”

“i know“ was all you heard before shutting the door behind you and walking away from your home, your relationship, him.

kita always strived for perfection and nothing less of perfection, not just finding comfort in it, but also believing that everybody deserved nothing but the best of him. and that belief has never failed him.

until now.

until he failed you.

“whenever we hang out at the after partie she’s always… clinging onto you… doesn’t drink with any of us.”

“i told you, she’s a little shy,”  he stands up a little straighter this time, narrowing his eyes. “and parties aren’t for everyone. she might not like them but she’s there to support me. shouldn’t that be enough?”

“but dude…” someone else speaks up. “don’t you find any of that strange? like she’s just… weird.”

yuuji can’t get home fast enough after that. he almost falls to pieces when he sees you singing and shuffling your way through the cupboards in his dorm kitchen — making yourself a snack. he loves it when you stay over and he gets to watch you like this, so calm and at ease in his space. he feels grateful to even be sharing it with you.

weird isn’t a word that yuuji itadori would use to describe his girlfriend. 

he finds you intriguing. your relationship is still new, so all of the differences between you both interest him beyond belief. each time he discovers a new habit of yours (like the way you forget to take your glasses off when you sleep) or a fact about your life before college, or finds out something obscure relating to your hobbies and interests… yuuji can’t help but to fall in love with you all over again. like an astronomer who’s searching for the secrets of the universe, the pink haired jock wants to know every interesting little detail that makes you, you. 

that’s created the very person he loves today. 

“please never change,” yuuji breathes against the back of your head once he’s home. you can’t even comprehend the speed at which he’s dropped his gym back before he’s wrapped himself around you in the same manner that a boa constrictor would. only more affectionate. “and if you do, let me change with you.” 

being this close to itadori, you can smell his baby-fresh soap and the tinge of sweat from his work out. you can feel the strength of his arms as they squeeze you close from behind — like he’ll never let you go. he makes you feel loved even when it’s not on purpose, you go your every waking moment cared for and adored by yuuji itadori. it’s always subconscious, unwavering and steady. your love is stable like that, never dampened from those outside of the two of you — that much will never change. 

“that’s a big ask, yuu.” comes your contented hum, but you don’t stop your actions — continuing to make your snack while the pink haired jock squeezes you tight. as if to become one with you. “people change all the time.” 

you hold up a hand behind you and he sucks the peanut butter from your thumb eagerly. “i know, but i don’t want what anyone else says about you or us to make you change,” he mumbles petulantly against the shell of your ear, trying to find the right words as he tucks his face into your neck. “you’re perfect to me, as you are.” 

it’s cute that he reminds you of such a trivial little thing. those big brown eyes of yuuji’s see perfection in all of your flaws. he loves you so much you wonder if how much you feel for him even compares. 

“what’s gotten into you?” you giggle, spinning in his arms to stand on the tips of your toes — pressing a soft kiss to the point at which your boyfriend’s jaw meets his neck. it’s all you can reach. “did something happen?” 

yuuji hesitates for a moment, lips pursed and honey-glazed eyes cast to the side. he would never lie to you, that’s not in his nature — but he’d never want to hurt your feelings either. “the guys…the guys on the team said some stuff about us today,” his voice trails off and his hands trail upwards, dipping underneath the jersey of his that you wear to draw circles into your waist using his rough thumbs. he figures it’s best to tell you before one of his teammates  let it slip and hurt your feelings. he would rather die then let that happen. “they… they think you’re weird and that… that we’re too different.” 

“o-oh.”

a flash of pain comes with the territory of yuuji’s honesty, but he’s quick to soothe it as though he’s running your burn under a stream of cool water. “but i like you. like…really really like you,” the words rush out while his eyes stay serious and set in stone. your boyfriend grasps both of your hands firmly before you can even think to cry or pull away.

yuuji is there and he is constant and that is never changing. not for anyone, except for you. “and i like all of the funny things about you. that you’re a little quiet, that you’re always by my side, that you leave me notes in my gym bag or share your celebrity crushes with me. i like you for you. even if you’re a little weird — then…then i am too!” 

his hands, strong and yet so soft, traverse up to your round cheeks — tilting your head up to face him. “please don’t ever change because of what people say,” yuuji repeats tenderly, his lips finding the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. he stays there, like a magnet on metal and the world stands still for a moment. remaining the same, no longer changing, so that yuuji itadori can love you as is. “the way you are right now, it’s everything to me.” 

itadori only moves when you tip your head back to get a better look at him, he looks down at you through his unfairly long lashes — brown eyed gaze latching onto yours while your hearts sync up, beating to the same drum. “i’ll never change, as long as you promise to always love me like this.”

“i’ll love you the same way that i always have. like i’m the luckiest guy in the world, yeah?” he laughs and you smile — because it’s hard to be upset when yuuji is around, and protects your love so genuinely. 

you lean up and he meets you half way — pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the swell of your lips, wrapping his arms around you once again as you away to a silent tune in his tiny dorm kitchen. 

change is inevitable of course. the two of you will grow and become different people than you are right now — but you will always find your way back to the beautiful love that you hold. 

much like a butterfly that blossoms into something beautiful too.

It was why he treasured his little team so much – given the time (suffering) they’d all been through in the two years together, they were easy to read now. They were so familiar, it didn’t cost him as much effort to accommodate them, and even better, they were just as respectful with his needs too.

It wasn’t always that way, except maybe with Shoko. He wouldn’t say getting to know Gojo was all that difficult either, because he was just so honest sometimes. Utahime was a little difficult, but only because she struggled with asking for help and quite frankly, Geto felt weird taking care of someone older than him.

But perhaps you had been the most difficult – which is odd to think about now, because you were the most transparent with him. You had been hard to read initially, because he simply couldn’t understand you. Never met anyone quite like you, honestly. Where one would take offence, you would simply take it in stride. Where one would falter, you were solid.

Geto had found you intimidating, in a similar way that he used to find Gojo to be, back when they had just met. That amount of enthusiasm in a person made him afraid to come close. He didn’t want to be burned. But all the years had shown Geto that the fear was for nothing, really. If anything, you were inspiring to him now. Made him want to try harder. Pushed him towards dedication over resignation.

Geto admired you, and for some reason, you did too. Not that the others didn’t believe in his capabilities, but none of them were as vocal about it as you.

Maybe that’s why he reacted so strongly when he found out you were in love with Toji Fushiguro.

.

.

.

Yes, that Toji Fushiguro. CEO of their company – the big boss.

While Geto was busy fucking around, doodling stick figures in his maths notebook, Toji Fushiguro was already learning the ins and outs of being a savvy businessman, probably hip thrusting his way through women that he could only dream of.

Actually, if he thought about it, a crush on their CEO wasn’t that surprising. A rich, well-educated, and not to mention extremely good looking man who even found the time to take their team on extravagant lunches when he was buried under mountains of work – shit, even Geto would fall in love if he batted for the other team. 

On days you knew he would be in the office, you made sure you wore your extra nice cashmere jumper and read up on the latest articles about the company so you could ask questions. That was the closest thing to admiration you had ever shown anyone (beyond Taylor Swift, but that was a Real Celebrity; Toji was a celebrity in his own way, but Geto knew him, had seen him in the halls of their company building. He was real real.)

And of all the places, he found out during a quick coffee run: 

There had been a heatwave in Tokyo, the burning heat in the office threatening to turn everyone into human soup (gross he knows), and Gojo was nothing short of insisting that he was in dire need of an iced latte. 

Somehow the topic of dating came up, and it quickly turned into a 20 questions type thing. Geto was always uneasy when personal questions were asked, because was this even right in an office setting? Would he somehow be hurtled into a HR call about appropriate work behaviour? He was the project manager. A supposed role model of sorts. 

But if he had to be honest, he did enjoy it. Especially when the questions were saucy. 

“Don’t call them saucy,” you complained when Geto raised an eyebrow at one of Utahime’s questions, a smirk lingering on his face. 

For all your professionalism, Geto knew you liked it too, because you let the conversation flow rather than quickly changing the subject. 

“Y/N-chan, would you ever date one of your seniors?” Gojo quipped.

“How much of a senior are we talking?” 

“Let’s start easy. Say ten.” 

“Ten years,” Geto whistled. “That’s a pretty big difference.”

“It’s not that big.” you countered. “We’re all adults here and–”

“Yeah, but don’t you think you’d be at different life stages?” Geto raised his hand. “Say you’re 22. That would mean dating someone who is 32, right? You’re still at the beginning of adulthood, while the other person is probably ready to get hitched and settle down. Wouldn’t it be hard to relate to each other?”

You sipped your cappuccino in thought, “I think what matters is your mindset and priorities, right? I mean, think about it – I know people at 22 who have gotten married and settled down to start a family. And I know plenty of people in their mid-30s who wouldn’t even dream of that. Don’t you think connection can exist no matter the age?”

“Yes…” Geto paused as he wondered how to phrase it without sounding harsh, and then deciding to just say it, “but come on, would you date someone ten years older than you–”

Your eyes widened significantly. Geto hurriedly added, “I mean, wouldn’t you feel a little daunted? How can someone leagues ahead of me in life like me?

“I’ve never thought about it that way,” you said as you started walking back to the company building. Your voice had an undercurrent of longing, “I think I would still go for it. You never know what could happen anyway. They could be the one.” 

There was something that Geto wanted to prod into further but Gojo quickly cut him off. 

“I’ll support you! If you marry a rich, older man then good for you. Just don’t forget my invitation to the wedding.”

He rolled his eyes, but when Utahime and Gojo walked ahead he couldn’t help but ask. 

(Side note - he immediately regretted asking.)

On the walk back, Geto lightly poked your side, “So, you got a senior you like? Anybody cute that I know?”

You rubbed your side. “Suguru, please. Don’t do that.”

Geto patted your back, “Sorry. Do you mean the teasing or the light poke? Because if it’s the latter, I’m starting to think your little gym workouts are for nothing. That was a really light poke–”

“Both,” you answered dryly. “You’re a lot stronger than you think. But also, please don’t ask me, I don’t want to talk about it–”

“Why not?” Geto asked, pouting. “I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me and Gojo won’t even hear a peep–”

You suddenly kicked at his shins, almost causing him to lose his balance. Which would have been absolutely humiliating considering there were witnesses around, and some of them were important (with a capital I). Geto righted himself and found that out when he made eye contact with none other than Toji Fushiguro himself (yes, we are finally getting to the point of the story).

Toji hid his laugh with a small cough. He was too nice. If it was any one in his team, they would have just pulled out their phone and recorded it to send into the group chat. His little flub would be an ongoing joke for weeks. Those absolute savages.

Geto did his best to look normal, bowing to greet him. “Fushiguro-shachou. It’s nice to see you here.”

“Hi Toji-san.” you greeted informally beside him. Geto raised a brow. Since when were you guys on a first name basis? 

Fushiguro walked up to them and attempted to bow, despite the fact that both of his hands were full. Geto heard you giggle, which if he could raise his brow further at, he absolutely would.

Question mark emoji, question mark emoji, question fucking mark emoji. Eyebrow raise emoji?

“How have you guys been?” Fushiguro asked. “Heard the first phase of the project ended well.” 

“It did, thank you.” Geto answered. “Some minor mishaps here and there, but overall it was good. We even managed to secure more funds for the next phase.”

Fushiguro looked every bit their Superstar CEO as he said, “It happens. There’s always a next thing to do better at. All that matters is your team got it finished within the deadline, and even exceeded the target.” 

“Toji-san,” you said shyly, and Fushiguro turned his full attention to you. An itch started somewhere down Geto’s throat. He swallowed. “I just wanted to thank you for the extra advice you gave me. I think it really won the investors over.” 

Fushiguro brightened, “Did it really?” 

You hummed affirmatively, “It did! If you have any more expertise to share, there were certain aspects of the negotiations I struggled with and–”

“Of course,” Fushiguro said, and then he pulled out his phone, read whatever message he seemed to get, then shot them both an apologetic look. “My apologies, I forgot I had a meeting in a couple of minutes, but please reach out whenever you guys are free. Let me treat you to a meal–”

“Ah, Fushiguro-shachou, there’s no need,” Geto started to say, but he had already started walking past them and yelled, “Congratulations again!”

You waved, which is when Geto side-eyed you and said, “What was all that?”

“What?” you said, not even bothering to look at him. You pulled out your phone from your pocket and from where Geto was standing, he could see that you had opened your messages. “Suguru, can I ask you for a favour?”

Geto supposed he trusted you enough. “Sure?”

“Could you pretend you’re busy whenever he sets up a meal for us?” you asked. Geto’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground. You’re asking him to miss out on not only a free meal, but a free premium meal? What if their CEO had wanted to take him out for some A5 Wagyu steak? The project was making him good money, but not enough money for a casual weekday night meal with A5 Wagyu. 

Geto crossed his arms over his chest, “Why?” Because if something was standing in between him and premium beef, it better be a good reason. 

“I need to talk to him. Alone,” you insisted, seeming to hit send on your phone on something and then pocketing it. “Will you?” 

“What, you don’t want me to hear?” he asked. “What do you guys even have to talk about? I am the project manager after all.” 

“He’s someone I admire and respect,” you replied, so matter-of-fact it silenced anything else he had to say. “I think you can easily imagine what we’d talk about,” and then began to walk towards the elevator. 

Things began to add up in his head. A senior you admired and respected. The ten year difference question from earlier. You asking for privacy with Toji Fushiguro. Geto barely passed his maths class, but by god, his years of watching old school tv dramas have finally borne fruit. 

You liked Toji Fushiguro. And you were going to confess.

“Suguru?” you asked, cocking your head to the side. You were already a few paces away. “Are you coming?” 

“Yeah,” he said, feeling a little faint. His body moved on its own, but his mind was stuck on his new discovery. “I’m coming.”

.

.

.

Geto wished he had easier problems, like Gojo for example. Gojo had been looking at his hair in the mirror and talking to himself about on-set baldness. Which, in all fairness, is a terrible struggle to have, but it’s not like he wasn’t vain enough to let himself go bald. There’s surgery to fix that kind of shit now. 

Meanwhile, there doesn’t seem to be any amount of money that can fix his problem. 

Fuck, he wanted to tear his hair out. It was a fit of dramatics more befitting of his BFF (Gojo, not Shoko), but Sue him. If money cannot fix something in this capitalistic world, then isn’t he truly, deeply fucked? 

How was he going to break it to you? Maybe he didn’t have to, he could just let you find out for yourself. At your dinner. Tonight. With Toji Fushiguro. 

That Toji Fushiguro wasn’t actually single. That he was, in fact, the very opposite of single. Worse, he was in love. With a person that definitely wasn’t you. 

“...Guru?” Shoko asked beside him. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

Shoko looked at him with concern. “I just told you I almost broke the spreadsheet, and you didn’t even react. I make fun of you for your lack of brain cells, but you’re not that bad.”

“Sorry, I was thinking,” Geto said, running a hand through his hair. 

Innocently, Shoko asked, “You think?”

It is only Shoko’s position as Geto’s favourite team member (a record she’s held far longer than anyone else) and his amazing level of self-restraint that he did not commit an act of foulness against her. Geto gave her a dead-eyed stare, “I hold 50% of this team’s brain cells actually.” 

“Suguru,” Shoko said, unserious. She reached out and held Geto’s hand, “Have you been sleeping well? These delusions you have are starting to worry me. Y/N and I actually hold all the brain cells–”

Geto snatched his hand away. He sniffs, “I’m the project manager for a reason. I bet if I take my MBTI now I’d be a Thinker. I think everyday. I am thinking right now.” And then, only because she had mentioned you first, “Hey, I have a question–”

Shoko picked up her phone, “Go ahead.” 

“Say you have a friend that likes someone,” he started nonchalantly. Shoko hums– he continues, “And that person your friend likes is already dating someone… would you or would you not tell them?”

Shoko’s eyebrows pinched together, “Why wouldn’t I tell them?” 

“Because,” Geto said. Why didn’t he? “I don’t know? Maybe you wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings? Or maybe it’s none of your business?” 

Shoko scratched her head, “Isn’t it our duty as friends to warn them of such things? Sounds simple to me. Am I missing something?”

Geto wanted to hit her head. Maybe it was wrong to ask Shoko, who saw solutions easily, because she didn’t think too hard about stupid things. He should’ve talked to Gojo or something. “Maybe,” he dragged out, “you’re a coward and you love minding your own business and–” 

Shoko opened her phone and started doing her daily tasks on Duolingo, “Just tell your friend, Suguru–” 

Geto gave in and despite that fact that the two of them were the only people left in the office (Gojo and Utahime had left at the exact time they stopped getting paid to work like the anti-capitalists they were), he whispered urgently, “I can’t just fucking tell Y/N–”

“Y/N? Her crush is single though,” Shoko narrowed her eyes at him, then shrugged. “At least, last time I checked.” 

“I thought you knew. It’s not really a secret. Pretty much everyone in the company knows Toji Fushiguro is dating someone.” 

Shoko’s face twisted in confusion, “Fushiguro-shachou? Our CEO? What’s he got to do with this–”

The door opened, and Geto did his best to look casual as you stepped into the room. “Hey,” he greeted, also casually. God, he should be called King of Casualness with how casual he’s being. “How was your dinner?”

“It was good!” you said, smiling brightly. Geto tried hard not to look at your mouth. To not inspect for evidence of kissing. Not that he thought the big boss would do anything when he already had a girlfriend, but he only slept for four hours last night, which explains the crazy thoughts. “Full. He took me out for Kaiseki.” 

“That sounds good,” Geto said. “Wish I had some.” 

You rolled your eyes as you took off your coat. You were dressed so lovely. The simple fact was upsetting to him. To his stomach, specifically. “I’m sorry,” you said, walking over to your desk. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“I want to be taken out.” Geto demanded. 

You playfully put a finger gun up to his head, “Like this?”

Geto grabbed your wrist and stared up at you, “To dinner.”

“Okay,” you said. You looked at Shoko and asked, “You wanna come too?”

Shoko looked between the two of you before going back to her phone, “Nah. You guys can go by yourselves.

Geto didn’t question it. The entirety of your wallet all to himself. He would not look a gift horse in the mouth, or however that saying went. “Nice. We have to do it soon. Before we get those annual company pictorials for the website. So my face doesn’t swell up–”

“Alright, alright,” you said, rolling your eyes. “He asked about you, by the way. He said to contact him some time. He said he wants to treat all of us next time.” 

Shoko piped up, “Zenin Naoya-san said the same thing. He heard about how well the first phase went and wanted to congratulate us. Can you imagine that? Both the CEO and COO want to take us out for a meal. We’re about to be fed good.”

The entirety of your wallet was nice, but now the CEO and COO wallets were in the mix? Geto must have done something good in a past life to be treated like this. 

“I know,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “I really admire them. Toji-san isn’t even that much older than us and look at everything he’s achieved.”

Geto bit his lip. The awe in your voice. He really should say something, but who was he to ruin this? 

A good friend, the little voice in his head that sounded like Shoko said. You’re a good friend. A good manager even, and you should take care of her because she does her best to take care of you. 

He took a deep breath, drawing Shoko’s attention towards him. “Y/N, about Fushiguro-shachou–”

“Actually,” Shoko said, speaking over him pointedly, “He is really cool, huh? Wasn’t he your role model for the longest time?” 

You spoke sweetly, “He still is. He’s just… too good.” 

It felt like a stone had dropped deep down to the pit of his stomach. Too good? Where has he heard that before? Why did it sound so familiar–

It hit Geto suddenly. That’s exactly how Gojo had sounded like when he was stupid and seventeen and pining over his first girlfriend (albeit, probably not in the same sense as you were thinking). Man. If he was working with deductive conclusions before, he had solid proof now. It was worse than he initially thought, actually.

You were unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Toji Fushiguro.

(Yes, fuck you, he was quoting Twilight. It’s a trauma response.)

.

.

.

Geto wasn’t built to keep secrets. He hated lying. He loved a little gossip. Yes, he loved minding his own business, and yes, he was nosy as hell – these two things can co-exist. Most importantly, he prided himself in being a good friend, and it’s killing him, sitting with the knowledge that could break your heart. 

Such things shouldn’t be left up to him. He knows he basically signed up for difficult tasks when he became the project manager, but he didn’t think it would cover stuff like this. It was already painful (read: humiliating) having to sit in at a Human Resources meeting, because Gojo and the team lead from a different project can’t keep their hands off each other in the break room, and you’ve been tasked to follow them as their eternal third wheel so they can’t eye fuck each other when walking around the office (read: Geto is very fucking bitter about this). 

But this is a whole other level. 

You’re nice, even though your image paints you as someone with a resting bitch face most of the time. You’re sweet, hardworking, loyal, and all these other great things – but most importantly, you are a romantic. And if you’ve supposedly loved Toji Fushiguro for some time now, how was Geto supposed to tell you without feeling like an asshole?

He thought of it every time he saw you. Guilt flooding through him like a tsunami, waves and waves of it. He started to avoid you until he could muster up the courage and the right timing to break it to you. Which has been very hard, because the moment Geto decided to avoid you, you decided to stick to him like glue. 

You sat beside him during meetings and lunch, which made it hard to eat because his heart would just be pounding in his chest. The palpitations were upsetting his stomach and made it hard to concentrate on whatever report he was supposed to be reading.

You would also offer to bring in some baked treats for him, to which Geto had to reject pitifully. You baked like Mary Berry, and he had to pretend he wasn’t interested. Wasn’t hungry. It was so out of character for him that you began to ask if he was sick or something. Geto, of course, brushed it off but the next day you brought in daifuku. Fresh and still a little bit warm from a stall down the street. He wasn’t cruel enough to not eat it. 

(He also wasn’t selfless enough to not eat it, because damn, all this guilt was making him hungry.)

He even started skipping the weekly team dinners. He was busy, he said. He had to finish an important report, he said. You had only frowned, worry building behind your eyes. Geto thought he was this close to getting called out, but by the grace of project deadlines and difficult clients, he was saved. 

The whole team had been asked to visit a client’s main office in Kyoto. They had been given a generous budget for travel and other expenses, and Geto took the opportunity to book them all separate hotel rooms for the three day trip. 

He successfully managed to avoid you during the trip planning for the most part, busying himself with other things - but the guilt stayed and worsened, because the night before he was set to go on ahead of everyone else, you had hugged him, nice and tight, on your way out. Whispered quietly to him, don’t work too hard, you’re already doing great.

God, this was depressing him. 

.

.

.

Geto had been asked to attend a private meeting with the client and a proposed new investor, so naturally he arrived a day earlier. 

That evening, at the hotel, he chose to lie down immediately, happy to not be bothered by anyone else for a while. He resolved not to think about anything– which isn’t that hard, for not thinking anything was his preferred natural state of mind– and just rest. He loved it, the silence, the lack of people constantly asking him for an update, the chance to just breathe without anybody peeking in. 

He enjoyed the peace for a good solid five minutes before he heard a knock on the door.

Geto resisted the urge to suffocate himself with a pillow.

He composed himself. He stood up, even though all life wanted to do was for him to stay down. He opened the door and was hit immediately with something hard and cold, square in the chest.

It fell sadly on the carpeted floor.

“You,” Geto said. 

“It’s me!” Gojo sing-songed, before picking up the ice cream he threw and shoving it into Geto’s hands. “What’s wrong with you? I leave you alone for a couple days and you’re all sad. What happened? Tell your soulmate.” 

Geto rubbed his face with his hands, “Why are you here already? Did you take an earlier train than planned? Are the others here too?” 

“We chose to arrive the night before so we would all be fresh as a daisy for tomorrow! Shoko should be arriving in the next hour,” Gojo said, entering the room and making a beeline for his bed. He plopped down, looking around before turning to face him. “Utahime took the same train I think so she should be around the same time as her. Y/N… I think she’ll be a bit later. Apparently, they fucked up her ticket.” 

Geto didn’t know if he should be sad or sigh in relief. Oddly enough, he felt both.

Gojo patted the spot next to him, “Come sit with me.” 

Geto sighed, closing the door even as he said, “Satoru, I’m tired. I kind of just want to rest before tomorrow happens.” 

“Hm,” Gojo hummed, narrowing his eyes. “Something is wrong with you.” 

“Thanks,” Geto replied, tiredly sitting down beside him. He opened the ice cream with the same level of energy. “My mother said the same thing when I was born.” 

“You’ve been saying that for the past week now. And at first, I let it pass because we were preparing for this trip, but Suguru, you looked burdened. With Something. And I think it’s time for you to talk about it.” 

Trust Gojo to get to the heart of the matter. Just like you. No, ugh. Geto hated this. Why did it all come back to him? 

He doesn’t want to have this conversation with Gojo, and he says so out loud. “This is weird,” he complained. 

Gojo took a small bite of his popsicle and flinched at the cold after, “Why is it weird?”

“Because,” Geto said, shrugging. “I’m usually the one giving advice to you.To everyone, it feels like. It’s weird.” 

“It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve ever had a problem,” Gojo said. “Nor is it the first time any of us has offered a hand to help you out. Shoko definitely has and you let her just fine–” 

Geto shook his head. “It’s different. That was relating to our work, and we were looking out for the team because–”

“Y/N takes care of you, and you let her,” Gojo cut. The mention of your name sliced at him. And by the way Gojo’s face lit up, it was visceral. “But she’s different… isn’t she?”

You were different. Always have been. Geto likes easy, likes things, even relationships, simple. It’s why his favourite person in the world was Shoko, who has always provided a place of comfort and ease for him, who always understood him without words. 

And while he could read you well now, there was this new development that had made it difficult for Geto to be with you. It’s that you’re so honest, so open to him that makes this hard. Why couldn’t he be the same? Why couldn’t he just address the elephant in the room? 

And anyone else, he’d just run further from, further than he was running now, but this was you. This was a friend that felt closer to him than anyone else sometimes. He could only run so far, before the red string of fate they tied on each other’s fingers pulled him back. 

Geto shrugged, nonchalant seeming as he admitted, “She makes everything quiet.” 

Gojo said nothing, waiting for you to expand. 

“She makes me forget all the doubts I have about myself, because she’s unflinching in her belief in me,” he said. “She makes me want to try and do better, because she makes failure look like it’s just another step she has to take. I admire her a lot.”

“That’s…” Gojo sucked on his popsicle. “That’s so romantic, dude–”

Geto smacked the side of his head on reflex, “What the fuck, Satoru–”

“OW,” Gojo complained loudly. He gave Geto a betrayed look, “Why would you hit me–”

“Why would you say romantic,” he panicked. “So what if I admire her, huh? So what if I want to impress her? And that I want to earn the image she has of me in her head?”

Gojo stared at him unimpressed and wagged his half-eaten popsicle at him, “This is why you have to start watching the rom-coms I recommend. Maybe if you stopped rejecting my movie invites, you would recognise what a fucking fool of a rom-com male lead you are and be making out with her right now–” 

“I cannot be hearing this from a balding man who has spent months pining over the team lead–” 

“Well, this balding man has been having regular sex with her, so who’s the real winner here–” 

Geto’s head started aching, so he started massaging his temples. Gojo took pity on him and practised volume control, “As your self-proclaimed best friend, it’s my job to hold your hand through these terrible realisations. Look at the bright side, you already attended all of the required Dating in the Workplace meetings because of me. Now, you can happily date your co-worker. I can send you the form you have to fill out–” 

“Stop, stop, stop,” Geto said, because his brain just started working again. Worse, it was starting to recognise all the signs of Romantic Feelings. Worse, it just remembered you were in love with someone else. “She doesn’t even like me like that. She’s… in love with somebody else.” 

“I know, right,” Gojo nodded furiously. “That girl is like, in love with raisins. Do the cookies really need that much–” 

Quite frankly, Geto didn’t think Gojo had any right to be critiquing other’s food choices when he was so picky himself. But he had bigger problems here, “Oh my god, Satoru. I’m in one of those unrequited love situations.” 

“You literally don’t know that.” 

“No, I do know,” Geto replied, depression hitting him again. “She’s in love with Toji Fushiguro. Dude, how am I supposed to compete with the literal CEO. I have to lie down.” 

Gojo looked at him weird, “What? How did you even find that out? Did you hear her say that? 

“It’s complicated,” Geto said, not having the energy to explain his amazing deduction skills to him. “But I’ve pretty much confirmed it. Actually, that’s why I’ve been feeling so guilty. You… know he’s dating someone, right?”

Gojo was still looking at him weird but assented, “Yes… everybody knows that.” 

“Well, I’ve been trying to find a way to let her down gently, but it’s hard. I don’t want to break her heart.” he finished. 

Gojo snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. Geto frowned. He thought that as a fellow romantic, Gojo would understand, so why was he laughing? He suddenly had an idea, “Hey, maybe you can tell her… I’m actually surprised no one has. I think you should tell her.” 

Gojo took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. Then he looked at Geto and spoke seriously, “Listen, Suguru. I think you need to remember who you are and tell her yourself. I think you have apologies to make either way–”

“What–” 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding her,” Gojo said smugly. He pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then at Geto’s eyes and said, “I’m always watching you.”

“That,” Geto said, standing up and heading towards the door, “is one of the creepiest things you’ve ever told me. Go back to your room and let me rest.” 

Gojo left, but not without throwing his popsicle stick in Geto’s trashcan and advice in his face, “Talk to her when she gets here.” 

.

.

.

“The journey was awful,” you said in lieu of a greeting. “Thanks for asking.”

You came from behind. Geto had texted you, after seeing the notification from the group chat that you had finally arrived, and asked if you guys could talk. The hotel was nice– private, and a short walk away to a small park with a river running through it.

Geto kept his mouth shut, choosing instead to kick a small pebble further down the path, “I heard from Utahime.” 

You made a soft noise; had it come from anyone else, Geto would call the sound wounded, but this was you. Always calm and collected. Always brimming with a positive light. All in a league of your own. 

“You could have asked me, though. You always used to tell me that it was different, that hearing from me, personally, was important–” 

Geto chanced a glance at you and found himself surprised to find your cheeks flushed, hands strangely curled into fists. “Hey–”

“Are you upset at me?” you asked. “Did I do something to make you mad? Because you can tell me, you know that. I don’t like being left in the dark, second-guessing what every second of your silence means.” 

Your eyes flashed to him, watery. 

It punched the breath out of him. He’s the stupidest piece of shit in the world. He wanted to march into the river and let it swallow him whole. 

Geto sighed, running his hands through his hair, “No, god, I’m not. I couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong–” 

“Then,” you burst out, eyes searching, “Then why have you been avoiding me? 

“I,” he started before letting out an aggravated groan. He didn’t know how to explain to you what’s been on his mind this entire time; worse, his mouth is impatient, going on ahead before his brain could come up with a plan, “Toji Fushiguro doesn’t deserve you!”

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“Yes,” Geto spit out. “He’s nice, and hardworking, and rich and all that, but he doesn’t deserve you. Y/N, he’s too old for you, and worse, he’s dating someone else. Has been for years now. And it’s killing me to see you in love like this, when you deserve someone better. Someone who will treat you right and honour your dreams and make you properly happy, and he is not it.” 

Geto found himself breathing hard. Like, really hard. He’s so heated. 

And all you had to say in response was: “Don’t ever say that in the office.” 

“Fuck the company!” Geto said, with less heat. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he did. And he didn’t really mean it. “I’m just joking.” 

“I know,” you said, smiling now. Geto started smiling now too, a smile that immediately dropped when you continued, “I’m not in love with him though.”

Geto blinked. And then it dawned on him suddenly– that he’d been sulking round, pissy as fuck, stressed as hell, for nothing. Worse, he’d gone and embarrassed himself in front of you. His cheeks heated up, all the blood in his body clearly going there, because the rest of him was turning numb. Worst of all was the relief rushing through him like air. 

You didn’t love Toji Fushiguro. Didn’t even like him in that way. 

A smile began to spread on his face and it froze when you raised a brow, “Was that why you were avoiding me? You could have just told me from the very beginning.”

Geto’s hands started sweating, “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You know my feelings don’t get hurt like that,” you said. “I would have appreciated the warning, honestly. If, you know, I was into him like that.” 

He felt cornered. The river was starting to look like a great option again. The pull of it was strong. He stuttered, “You were all hurt just now! When you thought I was avoiding you–” 

“That’s different,” you said, turning to fully face him. You cocked your head to the side, “I care more about what you think. I thought I’d said something hurtful, like I’ve lost your trust or something–”

And then there was this: the pull of your heart, bare and vulnerable, rare as childish joy, more gravity than the sea. Geto couldn’t– wouldn’t resist it. “You could never–”

“I worried,” you continued, blazing on, “because you said once you were the type to never forgive and to never forget, and once your trust was lost, it was lost forever. And Suguru, I couldn’t bear it, because I worked hard to earn it and–”

Geto has never seen you this distressed, this frazzled, and he couldn’t stand to be the cause of it. He held you tightly by the cheeks and was rewarded once again with your wide-eyed surprise. 

“God, I love you,” Geto said, then paused after realising the sudden gravity of his words. In hindsight, he should have continued, should have clarified he meant platonically, like one would love friends, but something in your face smoothed, clear as glass–

“I love you too,” you said, then pulled him down without hesitation for a clumsy kiss. 

“Wait–” Geto said, muffled against the cold press of your lips. You frowned as he managed to push you away. “Do you mean love, like love love or like I love you, bro?”

Your eyes narrowed, brows stitching in confusion, “I mean, I love you. What did you mean?

“Oh,” Geto said, sounding like he’d been hit over the head, struck stupid– which is also exactly how he felt right now. “Wow.”

Several emotions flickered across your face, too fast for him to catch, before it shuttered and you announced, “I’m going back to my room.” 

His head jumped, as he watched you turn around and walk briskly back to the hotel. Something in his brain clicked; all the pieces came together– the forward touches, the hurt looks thrown his way, the goddamn kiss just now– and propelled his legs forward to catch up to you. “Wait!”

For once, Geto thanked the fact that his legs were long, that yours were much shorter, so he caught up easily. He grabbed your arm and spun you around, “Hey–”

“Can you not manhandle me,” you demanded, the pallor of your cheeks now a bright red. You struggled, “This isn’t funny, let me go–”

He immediately did, raising his hands in surrender, “I’m sorry, just– are you embarrassed?”

“Surprise,” you said sourly. “I have feelings, like everyone else–”

“I know that,” Geto assured. “After all this time, do you think I wouldn’t know that? But it’s just me–” 

“Just you,” you muttered under your breath, and Geto grabbed your hands this time and squeezed it. He tried to joke, “It is just me. I know I am incredibly handsome, funny, talented–”

You threw him a glare, “You are those things–”

Geto grinned because a compliment is a compliment, and a compliment from you was worth its weight in gold. 

You called him out, “You’re infuriating–”

“You’re starting to sound like Satoru,” he said and laughed when you gave him the most tired expression he had ever seen in his life. “You’re so–”

“If you’re going to reject me, just do it,” you said. 

“–cute,” Geto finished. 

You stared up at him, expectant. The night breeze sped past your bodies, ruffling your hair. Geto squeezed your hands again and said, “I don’t know if I deserve you either. For a long time, I was baffled even, for how much you believed in me. There are nights, I confess, where I still feel like I don’t deserve it–”

He paused, waited for you to say something, but you just shook your head, made a soft noise that said, keep going.

“The team,” Geto mentioned, because it cannot not be mentioned. “Our work–”

“Comes first,” you finished, but he shook his head, “Actually, I think it should come second–”

You smacked him, “Don’t say that–”

“I’m just joking,” Geto said, but a part of him wasn’t sure what he’d put first if it came to it down the line. Had it been anyone outside of his little circle, it wouldn’t even be a worry, the answer would be easy– Geto was pragmatic; he wouldn’t bring his own problems to them. 

“You wouldn’t have to choose,” you said softly. “If that’s what you’re worried about. Because it’s just as important to me, as it is to you.” 

Nobody can promise that, he thinks. Not even you, whose talent is performing seven impossible things before he’s even had his first sip of coffee in the morning. But he was touched by the sentiment, his heart grew so big in his chest that it hurt. 

“You’re my partner,” Geto said, reaching for your cheek. It was cold. He ached to warm it up as he stroked it, “I trust you the most, you know?” 

You closed your eyes briefly as you held his wrist. Quietly, you asked, “Do you love me too?” 

“I do love you,” Geto confessed easily. 

“Like love love or like I love you, bro?” you asked, looking absolutely serious about it. But there was the slightest tug of a grin in the corners of your lips. Foul.

He rolled his eyes, making you laugh. “Alright, alright,” Geto admitted. “I suppose I deserve that for earlier–” 

“Next time, get straight to the point–” 

Geto leaned down instead, intending to kiss you, but you blocked him with a hand on your mouth. You stared, “Not here.” 

“You literally kissed me earlier, you little ingrate,” he complained but knew better. “Fine, let’s go back to my room instead–” 

You gasped as you wrapped your hands around your body protectively. “That’s a little scandalous. I’m not Gojo Satoru. I don’t put out on the first date, not that there’s anything wrong with that sort of behaviour, but I do have standards–”

Geto kissed you this time, swift but sweet. “I’ll protect your virtue,” he said, unbearably fond. “I love you.” 

You blushed, burying your face against his chest, “I love you too.” 

.

.

.

[Flashback plays]

“Toji-san,” you shyly asked as you both waited for the meal. “Could I ask you for some advice?” 

In front of you, Toji sat up straight in his seat. He took his duty seriously. “Yes,” he gestured for you to go on. “I’m happy to answer any question.” 

“Well,” you started, “Could you give me advice on how you started dating your fiancée? I know that you used to work with her, so I just thought that you could, you know…” 

Toji looked taken aback by the question. You nearly took the question back, but he looked relaxed in his seat, shook his head, and put his hands on his hips, “Y/N, first word of advice. Patience. I waited three years. Do you think you can wait that long?”

You balked before composing yourself, “I think I would lose my mind if I had to wait another year, Toji-san.”

“I nearly did too,” Toji said solemnly. “Here’s what you need to do–”

so where was he? the takeout you bought for dinner is getting cold and your stomach is growing louder and more impatient by the second. you didn’t want to eat without him though since it’s something you did daily; eating together as a way of debriefing and letting go of the stress that the day brought.

after an onslaught of unanswered phone calls from you, at 7:15, rin merely texts a ‘won’t be home for a while. eat without me’, and although rin was naturally curt and straightforward, the text had a depravity of… him, somehow. either way, his message causes a swirl of emotions in your stomach; unpleasant ones that begin to grow a nauseous shade of green.

you put rin’s takeaway in the fridge regardless, sending him a quick text telling him to be safe and that you’ll see him soon. 

he probably got caught up with something. you’re sure it’ll be fine. 

you shouldn’t have ignored that sinking feeling of premonition. shouldn’t have pushed down the unease swirling in your stomach when shutting the door to the refrigerator before stalking over to the kitchen island with slow steps as you prepare to eat in silence. no one to keep you company except your own thoughts and the ghost of rin’s presence.

and when rin does come home almost two hours later, he stills calls your name as usual, you still go to him as usual, he greets you with a tired smile as usual, you hug him as usual, he doesn’t kiss the top of your forehead, though. you ignore it, pushing your thoughts aside because he was home. he finally came back. you’ll wake up tomorrow and this uneasy feeling will sort itself out.

except it doesn’t.  

from that night onwards, rin changes. slowly, but surely, the cracks of change manifest in your relationship and through it all, you choose to cast a blind eye, plastering over it with sightless belief in your love. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the queasy feeling in your gut never stills. it fades at times when your mind is busy with other things, but it inevitably gets drawn back into the whirlpool of concern regarding your lover- or, rather, rin.

you think you’re still in a relationship, but you don’t really know anymore. you haven’t seen him in a while. the only indication of his existence that you get are the stray bowls he leaves on the kitchen counter whenever he’s done eating, the lessening weight of his protein powder containers, and the decrease of various food items from the fridge that you restock here and there.

it feels like you’re living with a ghost.

some nights, when it gets the most lonely, your mind betrays you, completely eliminating any and all trust you had in rin. 

you wonder if there’s another person. another lover that he feels more passionately for. another lover that his heart had gravitated towards, abandoning yours in the process. perhaps that is the explanation behind his absence. 

but no evidence points towards that conclusion. there has been no suspicious deduction of bills from his bank statement that would suggest infidelity, his location is constantly at the sports stadium whenever you check, and there are no traces of a lover on him- not even you. 

it is not totally blasphemous to assume that itoshi rin wouldn’t be engrossed in soccer to the point that he’d spend unhealthy and obsessive hours into honing his abilities, but it feels a little traitorous that he could forget about life outside of the sport. it isn’t just you he’s neglecting. his mother and father have been constantly asking when he’ll come over to spend some time together, his teammates have been asking you about rin’s whereabouts and when he’ll be free and what’s worse is that you never know how to answer every time. 

it’s embarrassing to be seen as a lover that is forgettable enough for rin to dismiss, so you lie and lie and lie, telling everyone that you’ll tell them later, that he’s fine and just busy, and you lie to yourself. you tell yourself that rin will be home soon so you two can talk about it, and then everything will return to normal.

(your reflection looks through your facade, disheartened and worried.)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“why are you late?” 

you jump at the voice that greets you when you step foot in the apartment and the sight before you causes you to wonder just how tired you feel, because rin is in your apartment, where he’s meant to be, for once. not only that, but he’s leaning against the couch, adorned in loungewear and slippers, and the sight is too foreignly domestic for your comprehension. 

coming home to a house with someone there feels nice. 

he’s lost a little bit of muscle and fat, but his frame is still as intimidating; shoulders broad and built, just the faintest indicator into the athletic body he’s developed over the years. his hair is a little longer too. 

“oh, rin, hi.” you mutter, surprise evident in your tone.

“hello.”

“since i got a promotion,” you respond simply. rin makes no move to approach you, no initiative to take your bag and put it on the couch for you. instead, he stays rooted in his position leaning against the couch, arms crossed.

the air around him feels hostile, and suddenly you’re almost afraid to speak. “and does that promotion change your work hours or something?”

(he doesn’t congratulate or celebrate your achievement.)

“i work with flexible hours now but the office is further and the commute is so bothersome.”

rin uncrosses his arms with a thoughtful hum, gaze glued to the floor, mind occupied. you approach him slowly, pulling your bag off your shoulder and setting it in the entrance near the genkan with a thud, the sound sobering to him.

when he looks back up, you don’t want to acknowledge the emptiness in his icy eyes, barren of the usual determination that defined itoshi rin. but if you knew that that day would be the beginning of the end, perhaps you would have done something about it.

when you opened your arms for him, perhaps you would have hugged him a little tighter, a little longer, strained all the stress out of his shoulders.

perhaps you would have protected him a little harder from the cruelties of his own mind; shown him that the world was not out to get him, and that there was a place for people like him in the world (people who can’t see their own value and instead, berate themselves for their waning self-worth because they cannot see the light behind them).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“i’m going to shower,” rin declares once the moment both of you step in the safety of your shared home.

“no, you’re not! not before we talk,” you demand, hurriedly taking off your shoes so you can face him before he slips out of your grasp. the dark-haired turns to look at you with an unamused expression, the way tonight seemed to drag on obviously taking a toll on him.

“you’re gonna stop me from taking a shower, really?”

“yes because what the fuck was going on with you tonight?”

he narrows his eyes into slits, the pure intimidation that rin naturally emanates almost threatening you into submission. however, for the humiliation you’ve had to endure tonight, you won’t budge.

“i don’t understand,” rin says monotonously. you roll your eyes.

“you don’t understand? what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know what you’re getting mad over.”

“the fact that you didn’t even try to talk to me- let alone look at me, once this entire night?”

your partner looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. “that’s an exaggeration,” he huffs.

“no it’s not!” you recall the looks of pity sent your way when rin sat beside you unmoving and unresponsive to any conversation you tried to make. “would it have killed to show you some sort of interest?”

“would it kill you to not receive attention for one night?” he retaliates. 

“it’s not about that-”

“really? sure feels like it. i don’t have time to shower you with all my attention, y/n, there are other things i have to do.” 

there are a million things you want to say to rin, a million emotions that you have felt whilst he’s been absent, a million examples of how he’s been leaving you behind and how you’re now fed up of keeping these millions to yourself. yet, not a word leaves you, too stunned by the stranger in front of you to voice it all out. 

rin, however, takes your silence as defeat and turns to leave.

“you’re being dramatic. i’m going to shower before i waste anymore time with this lukewarm conversation.” 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the night your relationship officially fell apart is one you still remember vividly, because it only happened a few days ago.

in your memory, the night was nearing 9pm, yet rin had still not come home. 

your heart takes you to him because as much as your relationship with him has caused you nothing but pain recently, you know itoshi rin. you know him because you’re soulmates and where he goes, there’s a fragment of your heart that follows. 

the drive to the practice pitch is nothing but heavy. heavy with your anticipation and stress, you feel your chest constrict and tighten, especially when you pull up into the very empty parking lot. 

“rin!” you shout for the fifth time and only then, does the dark-haired look up at you from where he’s doing dribbling drills. he almost trips over the ball from your interruption. 

“wha- oh,” he turns away just before you can catch the roll of his eyes, the snarl of frustration (one that lovers should never bare at each other). “what do you want?”

you pause a few feet away from him, utterly gobsmacked with the attitude your partner was showing you. after driving all this way, the least you’d want is a little concern, but alas.

“it’s time to go,” you stand your ground. “i’m here to pick you up.”

“yeah, right, i’m not going home.”

“that’s ridiculous! are you not tired?”

“no.”

“rin. c’mon, that’s enough, you need to rest.”

“what the fuck do you know about being enough?” he asks.

the silence is deafening and most hurtful. 

you stammer out the only response you can, “wh-what?”

he doesn’t give you anything. unrelenting, he is. rin has always been the embodiment of stubbornness served cold. not finding much productivity in his silence, you continue speaking with a wavering voice. “let’s go home. please, you shouldn’t be working yourself like this-”

“-leave me the fuck alone!” he finally comes undone. “can’t you see that i don’t have time to deal with headaches like you?”

the thread keeps unravelling.

“fucking lukewarm. i can’t deal with this right now, i don’t need you here.”

“fine,” you murmur. rin has his back turned against you and he prepares himself to kick another ball. “i’ll leave then since you don’t need me.”

when rin arrives home that night, he reasons the unease churning in his stomach on the physical exertion of practice as nothing is out of place. the apartment is as kept and tidy as it typically is, the lights are off because you’ve gone to bed, and there is a meal on the kitchen counter sealed by plastic wrap.

he won’t eat it because he’ll want to throw up otherwise, so rin tucks it neatly into the fridge, not thinking twice about the emptiness on the shelves, right where your favourite drinks are normally kept. 

the athlete washes up quickly and efficiently, a good night’s rest sounding too appealing for his battered body that felt as heavy as lead. 

that night, sleep takes rin and lulls him into a temporary sanctuary, protecting him from the reality that he would wake up to. because when morning comes, he will turn and find that you are not beside him like he expects you to be. your side of the bed is untouched, devoid of any warmth or indicator that you were there.

he checks the bathroom- you’re not there. he calls your name in the hallway- you don’t respond. he scans the kitchen, the study, the living room, and finds nothing but loneliness in each room. there’s no text from you indicating that you were elsewhere.

you’ll return, though. rin’s sure of it.

except you don’t, the hours pass by with rin anticipating your return, and his confidence slowly dwindles with each minute. by the time it’s been 24 hours since he last saw you, his patience runs thin. finding your contact, rin presses the ‘call’ button and is surprised that it does not go through, stopping him after only one ring when an automated voice says ‘this caller is unavailable’. 

the dark-haired stares at your contact in contempt, furrowing his eyebrows when all of his following attempts receive the same treatment, but rin continues stubbornly because you couldn’t have blocked him, right?

was it because of what he said? he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to blow up on you like that- how is he supposed to say sorry if he can’t even reach you?

checking his private accounts on various social media, he sees that you’ve blocked him there too. running in to the master bedroom and checking the closet, half of your clothes are missing, and the bag you keep on the shelf is missing too. the bathroom lacks some of your products, your laptop and various chargers are gone from your study space, and the heaviness of your absence hits itoshi rin like a train.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you never did come around to collect your stuff. rin finds a little bit of pain in that fact.

he feels like a ghost, haunted by the trinkets of you that remain littered around his apartment. he doesn't have the heart to throw them out, not when they're the closest thing to you he can get.

a few times rin sees you in his dreams. a few times he sees you in his nightmares, looking completely hurt and run-down by his recklessness and neglect, but most mornings he wakes up feeling emptier, no one to turn to on your side on the bed. not anymore. there’s no body to hold when he needs it most, there’s no one to keep him company whilst he eats dinner, there’s no love. not since the day you left.

you, on the other hand, find it odd to live life without a second person in the periphery. you thought rin was the one for you, you never had any thoughts about what life could be without him because you were certain that it would be him that you spent the rest of your years with, so learning to accommodate without him is gnawing you away, the little bug of loneliness festing on your newfound independence. 

you’re seated on the floor of your best friend’s living room when reo texts one day, interrupting your apartment hunt.

reo: Are you still coming to my party?

you scrunch your eyebrows at the text, unknowing of where it was coming from.

y/n: not anymore. what’s up?

reo: Why not :( reo: Please it’d be so fun

y/n: don’t you know that rin and i broke up?

reo: Ok but he’s definitely not coming reo: It’s Rin, he doesn’t have a life so you’re fine. Pls say you’ll come

reo: Plus he’s been all mopey ever since so I don’t think he’s in a party mood

you dutifully ignore the last part of reo’s statement. after a little more coaxing, he finally manages to get you to agree to come, but not without a feeling of apprehension settling in your gut. still, it would be a shame to miss out on an invitation from a friend because of it. 

besides, reo’s bargain of offering to buy your outfit was too tempting to let go. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“practice was rough,” bachira murmurs, flopping on the sides of the soccer field with a sigh. his sweat causes his hair and clothes to cling to his skin, and isagi takes a seat on the bench beside his best friend, tossing the dual-tone haired his water bottle.

wiping the sweat off his forehead, isagi agrees with a hum. “i know. i just want to go home.”

“i don’t know how rin does this, staying overtime and all of that.”

“he’s insane. it only got worse after his breakup and everything.”

bachira frowns, looking over to where the dark-haired in question is standing. “i feel bad for rin-rin, seems like he’s not taking it well at all.”

a beat of silence passes before bachira speaks again. “you know y/n’s coming to reo’s party this weekend?” 

the black-haired wipes his mouth before setting the water bottle down. “really?”

“yeah. reo told me.”

“that’s nice, it’s been a while since we’ve seen y/n so it’d be nice to catch up.”

“i wonder if rin knows.”

“i doubt it,” isagi reassures, “he hardly goes to parties like the one reo’s throwing.”

“maybe that’s why y/n agreed in the first place.”

“probably.”

a cold voice suddenly cuts the two from their conversation “y/n’s going to reo’s party?” 

isagi feels his blood cool over before looking up. there, stands itoshi rin, who has a frazzled, yet equally determined look in his eyes, one that isagi has not seen in a while (not since you left). “what? no! where did you hear that from?” 

bachira laughs nervously, “you’re hearing things, rin-rin!

but they are soccer players, not actors or professional liars. “shut the fuck up, asshats. y/n’s going to reo’s party this weekend?”

the two exchange a look and their silence is the only answer rin needs. 

“hold on, you’re not thinking of going, are you?” isagi asks, accepting defeat and now switching tactics.

“why wouldn’t i? my partne-” he pauses. “y/n is gonna be there.”

“yes but-”

“-you can’t stop me from going, so don’t even think about it.”

without another word, rin is gone, stalking away with a scary determination that was previously dormant. 

“what did we just do?” bachira mumbles. “should we tell y/n?” 

“nah.”

“agreed.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you should have never come to this party.

how stupid and foolish of you, but how utterly cruel of the universe to let you hurt like this, to let the same pain that has walked all over you for the past few months return; this time ramming into you with the ferocity of a bull, knocking the air out of your lungs

“y/n!” comes the dreaded call of your name. you walk a little faster, breaking into an-almost sprint.

“y/n!” 

“for fucks sake- y/n!” this cry of your name is broken, rasped and pathetic, and your chests clenches from how pained it sounds. like a howl from an injured wolf, it is broken enough for you to pity it, luring you into a trap that will inevitably end in chunks being torn from your heart, but you don’t have much left to spare, so you keep running, no matter how badly you want to give in.

except it’s not enough to deter rin, nothing ever be when there’s a goal in sight, especially one so close that he can taste it.

“y/n, please, i need to talk to-”

“-go away, rin!” you cut him off, hugging yourself tighter to shield yourself against the cold and rin’s pleas from piercing you. 

“not until you listen to me!”

fury powers you, igniting you with the courage to turn around and finally face him. you don’t look him in the eye, keeping your gaze elsewhere, but he shuts up nevertheless, awestruck by finally being able to see you face-to-face after being so long away from you. all words die on his throat, withering away to nothing as his eyes slightly widen in shock.

you’re just as beautiful as the day you left; perhaps even more so.

rin wonders if your radiancy was birthed by his absence, and if the answer is ‘yes’, he might wither away on the spot.

“it’s always about you isn’t it?” you shout. “always about what you want and never about what others want. you said you wanted me to leave, so i did! what more could i possibly give?” 

he gulps, utterly entranced as his heart makes itself known in his chest, racing wildly and vividly; the first indication that it was alive and hadn’t been replaced by a gaping hole in your absence. he hasn’t felt this human since you left. 

“i didn’t mean for you to actually leave,” rin confesses shakily. 

“well, it didn’t seem like you wanted me to stay either.”

“no, that’s not-” he falters. “it’s… not the same without you.”

you hug yourself tighter. “i don’t believe you, you’re just saying that now that there’s nobody to warm your bed.”

“no, it’s not like that- i don’t like living without you,” the athlete continues, admitting something so heavy with such airiness.

“you can’t just say that after so long. not when you’ve been living without me months before we broke up.”

there are a million and one things that rin wants to say to you, but none of them break through the whirlwind that is his thoughts, rattling around in his brain on overdrive and overwhelming him with the intensity of them all. one thing he knows for sure is that you are the single muse behind all of them, the only thing that is keeping him sane amongst the flurry of disturbances.

then, you shiver from the chilly breeze of the night, and the whirlwind is silenced into oblivion to awaken a dormant instinct of his instead. one that commands him to fulfil a duty that he’s not inclined to do anymore.

quickly, rin takes off his jacket and holds it out to you, as if expecting you to take it. 

he drops it when you don’t, hope dwindling in his stomach.

swallowing weakly, he then asks “would you ever give me a second chance?”

“you’ll hurt me again,” you glance away, the street lamps highlighting the melancholy in your profile as rin observes you closely. his eyes outline the curves of your face, each divet and slope that he used to trace with his hands now out of his reach. “you take and you take, but you never give and i’m so tired of it.”

“don’t say that,” he pleads, voice barely louder than a whisper as the dark-haired takes a heavy step towards you. “you’ll break my heart.”

“i shouldn’t love you anymore, you’re bad for me.”

“then i’ll be good- i’ll become whatever you want me to be-”

“-we won’t work like that.”

“we’ll work as long as i’m yours again, just, let me fix us, i’ll do whatever it takes. i’m not giving up like this.” 

the first tear makes herself known and paths the way for your downfall like a tsunami, washing away whatever you had built up during your time away from itoshi rin; the good and the bad. the hurt and the healing, all undone by a singular, stray tear. in your vision, he becomes nothing but a blur, a kaleidoscope of colours that you once loved.

a kaleidoscope of colours that you still love, much to the chagrin of your broken heart. 

a hand wraps around your wrist, a warm shackle that grounds you to rin like he’s your lifeline. no matter how bad you want to push him away, something in you will always bend to him. 

“don’t cry,” he pleads, voice airy and breathy. “i’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

please don’t cry because of me.

“i don’t want to be with you if it means i need to go through all of that again.” you whisper, slipping out of his grasp like sand and wiping away your own tears, rejecting his callous and prickly touch. 

rin’s world dims as panic seizes his throat. “please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.”

“i do though. you left me first, don’t you know?” 

“-i do.”

“and now i’m not yours to care about anymore-”

“i know, i know,” words are merely spilling out of his mouth without much purpose at this point, because he’ll do anything just to delay you leaving, to push back the possibility of you turning around and never seeing you again. why did he have to break who he loved so much? 

still, he pleads for another chance, desperation shining in his eyes as pure longing fills him. you have always been too good to him, he knows, but like the tumultuous tides and their inability to stray too far from the shore, rin will come back to you with his undying devotion. 

even if he thinks you should find someone better than him, that you should be adored by someone who could love you so much better, he can’t let go. to let you go is to let go the one good thing that came to him in life, 

you exhale shakily. “we’ve loved each other for too long.” 

“what do you mean?” he stutters, eyes widening helplessly. 

“i have loved you too much for too long, rin,” you choke, “there has to be an end to us somewhere in sight- you need to accept that.”

“no,” his look of absolute devastation causes a physical recoil in your stomach. “no- not long enough, it’ll never be enough, fuck- even forever won’t be long enough, i can’t let you go like that.”

he crosses the distance between you in the blink of an eye. you can’t see him clearly under the dim light of the night, but you can feel him, so close and so overwhelming, but so cold as his hands come to grasp yours. his grip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his determination. 

tears dance along his lashline. 

“please, tell me you’re still mine,” begs the dark-haired. rin’s tears are diamonds, in which they are precious, but they also crumble into a precious waterfall that rolls down his cheeks, tempting you towards his beautiful ruination. 

words continue to tumble out of him, each one sharpened to pierce your defences. “tell me that we’ll be fine, that i’m all you want, please. i’m so fucking sorry for hurting you, but please don’t leave me. 

i’ll fix us, i’ll become everything you need, i’ll be good.”

the dark-haired’s hands find their way to your face, cupping each side of your jaw with a scary gentleness; one that you’d never expect from someone as ragged as itoshi rin. 

“i love you,” he declares, so raw, so full of passion that it makes you sick. the rin you know never lets his heart on his sleeve like this. 

you cave. “how will you fix us?” 

slowly. he’ll rebuild everything that you have given him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

first, rin takes you out on dates again. calls you beautiful and really means it.

second, rin leaves practice at regular times, and listens when you tell him that he needs to take care of himself. because for you, he will. 

third, rin picks you up from work. his practice ends a little earlier than your job, so he always goes the extra mile to be there for you at the end of the day. even if you tell him that he doesn’t need to go out of his way to do so, he’d rather see you get home safe than only receiving a mere text of confirmation. 

plus, it gives rin more time with you.

fourth, rin sends you regular gifts. from bouquets, to random items that he just knows you’d like, they all get left at your door at the best times. 

fifth, rin lets you set the pace. you wanted things to go slow so that you two didn’t have to force anything back in place. no point recreating something that’s in the past, you reasoned, so might as well try again.

sixth, rin takes his time in welcoming you back into his space. it’s a few months after you two have reconciled, and majority of your items are back where they belong (you poked fun at him for not being able to throw away the stuff you did leave, and he just mumbled something indecipherable, all embarrassed, before moving on). the life has been restored in his apartment, now filled with more remnants of you loitering around his space: your various chargers and laptop, your products, your clothes, they all sit beside his things like that’s where they are meant to be.

and you are back in his arms, because it is where you are meant to be (more for his sake than yours).

rin stirs awake one morning under the gentle light of the morning sun and you’re there beside him, occupying the space that he has left devastatingly empty. mattress still curved to your frame as he never dared infiltrate it, in hopes that you would return.

now that you have, you feel too warm, too familiar, too unreal that he wonders if you’re just another dream of his. 

then, you stir, and press yourself closer against his chest, face to face with the heart that only beats for you.

a stray tear rolls down rin’s face; a salvation for the utter relief he feels, as well as the overwhelming amount of adoration that he stores for you. his ‘i love you’ is sweeter than the chirping of the birds outside, and certainly more meaningful as he wraps more of himself around your sleeping figure, hoping to attach all of him to all of you. 

you’re home. he won’t let you leave again.