·˚✎ ﹏

“Love is such a beautiful feeling!”

“Oh, you haven’t lived yet if you’ve never fallen in love.”

“I can’t wait to fall in love.”

Love? Love sounded so unfamiliar, so distant. Like a foreign country, Kageyama understood their way of living, he knew the name, he recognized the language, but he never fully experienced the culture. The descriptions that frolicked and slipped their way from the mouths of peers, were overlooked and watered out. He could care less about something that others dreamed of - his own blinding the ability to sympathize with them. Love just seemed like a bundle of letters, strung together and people used it to label an emotion. He had no use for the sentiment; it was a waste of his energy. His effort. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He pushed it aside. He couldn’t strap onto the idea of love. 

If love was something that everyone craved for, why isn’t everyone in love? Why did some chase after it as if it held jewels and the answers to every question in the world, while others loathed the sight of it. Kageyama kicked a pebble on the side of the road as he thought about the concept once again. He detested its mention but when virtually everyone talked about how thrilling it was, it was hard to stay indifferent. Gazing at the lush green hills, he nibbled on the plastic straw that was already brutally bitten. The lukewarm liquid trickled down his throat as he carried out his trek. He didn’t have a plan, nor a specific place to go, but he was going. He basked in the rays of the sun, occasionally placing a hand on the heated brick wall that stood tall and shielded him from the gusts of wind. He should be practicing, not wondering about a useless emotion. But the mind simply doesn’t work like that.

Turning a corner, he clicked his tongue when he realized he ran out of milk and only air was exiting the straw. A scowl drew itself on his already frowning face. With a grumble and brows furrowed, he threw away the box, only to shove his hands into his pockets. The sun was out but it wasn’t shining in Kageyama’s world. 

His walk skidded to a stop when a bold colour struck his eye. Strange. He glanced further, head tilted with curiosity. His eyes raked over the golden petals, the rich green stem. The honey-toned flower was only one of the many different colours painting his vision. Plants of various sizes, height, hues, were all beautifully decorated behind the white picket fence. He loomed over the edge, trying to get a closer view of the scene. How funny that a simple plant, that had no voice nor opinions, was able to entice him into noticing its beauty. His eyes darted from one to the next, quickly analyzing each flower, but then he caught onto something more than a plant, more than just velvet leaves. Something that made his breath hitch and shook his body. Something that stilled his quick eyes.

You should have seen the way he stared at you; as if you were something so unreal, something he’d never even imagined. He could watch all day at the way your hair danced to the tune of the wind. He gaped as your skin glistened at the touch of the sun. Everything about you was breathtaking. From the way you pushed loose strands away from your face, damp from the long hours under the heat, to how you poured the watering can, with grace and care. His throat became dry. He hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath until he felt a throb in his chest. Was it his lungs or was it his heart? 

“Are you going to keep standing there? The plants kinda need the sunlight.” He sighed at the sound of your voice. It was silvery, clear and light; soothing his ears like aloe over a wound. He replayed the tone in his mind like his favourite song, only processing the words after memorizing the colour of your voice. He flinched. His head shook, rattling his mind to think of anything but how he thought your voice was enchanting. 

“U-uh…” He stuttered, teeth clashing with his tongue. No matter how many nervous swallows he did, it was not enough to quench his desert-like mouth. Heat rose to his face, colouring it like the blush of autumn leaves.

The words fought their way from his throat, tumbling over each other, all wanting to let themselves be known by you. They lumped in his throat as he panicked to find the correct things to say. Compliments, excuses, apologies, even a simple greeting would do, so why wasn’t anything flowing?

“Hello?”

“Erm. H-hi.”

“Ah, so you do talk.” Although it was teasing, Kageyama noticed you didn’t smile. He couldn’t believe you were so close; he couldn’t believe you were talking to him. Your beauty captivated him, held his eyes in a vice and hushed any thoughts. Mesmerizing. 

But your eyes. They showed something different, something that contradicted your appearance. Compared to the glow you illuminated, your eyes were dull. Drained of colour. Tired. The dark circles under your eyes only added to the fact that you had restless nights.

“Well if you’re going to continue to stand there, you might as well help me carry those pots.” You pointed towards a stack of new caramel coloured pots. He should have followed your hand, but he was more interested in your movements. So graceful and perfect that it seemed like you practiced that one movement over and over. “I could do it myself but after five hours of pulling out weeds, my arms are a bit ti - are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” He jolted when your eyes met his ocean-like ones. “I-I mean, yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be listening to you? You’re speaking, right? So, the right thing to do is listen.” He was repeating himself. You simply nodded without batting him an eyelash. He was making a fool of himself. “I - uh, I would love to help you out, but I got to - um, you know - uh, feed… feed my pet orange…” His voice trailed off at the last syllable. He called Hinata dumbass a lot, but maybe he was the dumbass. Without waiting for your response, he took off. Tripping over his feet and wiping his baffling sweaty hands over his track pants, he didn’t spare you a glance. His ears felt hot. Was the sun shining too hard now? It was causing his face to heat up. Was it you? Did you do this? He didn’t even touch you. How did you have the power to make him feel like this?

You quizzically watched him jog - no, stumble his way down the road.

Odd.

Why didn’t he agree to help you? You could have sworn he was captivated.

You found the male interesting. He was able to find a spot in a small corner of your mind and called it his own. You questioned it. You’ve never had a proper conversation; you don’t even know his name, and yet, you wondered about him. You lightly shook your head, mentally pulling the weed that invaded your brain. A weed that might wither in your grasp.

He shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t be thinking about him. He shouldn’t get involved with you.

But he was persistent.

Kageyama was confused. He would always look at the path he took that day; the day where he thought his eyes had been blessed. The images of the flowers would waltz their way into his head at random times. How rich they were; how bold and vibrant. It was as if he was introduced to colours for the first time all over again. The memories played like a film while he was washing dishes, going on a jog, when he was doing literally anything. The scenes of plants slow dancing, the beaming sun, you, assaulted his poor mind.

Just the thought of your hair falling slighting and framing your face, caused him to blush. He remembered how clear your skin was, practically glittering, similar to the glistening of the sun over ocean waves. Those lips. Those plump soft lips that he imagined touching, wondered how they would feel like, sound like, taste like; he wanted to experience them. Such erotic thoughts. How could he think of that when he hadn’t talked to you? He didn’t know why you were all he could think of. He didn’t understand the way you made him feel. Unknowingly, he was slowly falling into your hands. 

It all happened so quickly, so subtly. He questioned why he was teased for his distant stares or his beet-red face. He didn’t quite believe that what he was experiencing was called “love”. This was nothing to what people described it as. He didn’t expect to be constantly thinking about you, to get nervous every time your image popped in his head. No one told him his chest would feel heavy. No one told him it would be painful.

A scratch tickled his throat. He tried quietly clearing it.

The scratch turned into claws. He tried silencing them with a cough.

His throat felt like it was being pierced. Dry wheezes escaped his mouth.

He coughed and coughed, each one using more force than the previous. He coughed till he gagged, wincing at the feeling. He steadied himself, knuckles white from the strength he was gripping the edge of the sink. Panting, he stared at himself in the mirror. Pale and large beads of sweat dripping down the side of his head. Another wave washed over him and his body shook. 

He coughed, gagged, vomited. Repeated. A cycle that lasted until blood tainted his teeth and dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He looked like a mess. He felt like a mess. He was a mess.

The pool of sky blue petals, sticky and stained from his saliva and blood, served as evidence. It was more than enough to tell him.

He made a mistake. The mistake of loving you.

The petals were the beginning, just the start of his blooming love for you. They clung to his throat, littered his tongue, flooded his lungs, made it impossible for him to breathe. He was confused, scared even. What were these? Why did they hurt so much?

He searched for answers. He browsed the internet until his eyes burned and watered. His fingers stung from the many paper cuts he acquired flipping through books. But gained nothing; just a mason jar overflowing with blood-stained petals.

He turned to you. Surely you had some answers; something, even if it was just the name of the flower. Anything. And so he visited you. Of course, his heart banged on drums that echoed and surged through his entire body, but he needed explanations. Maybe he wanted to see your face again, but he was masking that fact with his goal for answers. He needed it to keep him sane; to make sure he didn’t overheat.

He came back? The puddle of water that soaked your sandals and your gaping mouth made little effort in trying to hide your surprise. Blinking several times, you tried to think of a reason why he was here, why he would come back to you. Was he going to try again, going to try and capture your love? Was he going to fail? Crash and burn just like the rest of them?

“Hello again.” You played passively. “Are you finally taking up the offer to carry those pots-”

“I have a… a question.” His voice trembled, you wondered if he knew you could hear it. He swallowed. In his hand, he held tiny blue flowers. “What - uh… what are these?”

“You came all the way here to ask me that?” Furrowing your brows, you approached him, ultimately causing him to tense. You picked the petals from his hand, ignoring the way he flinched and the visible droplets of sweat layering his palm. “Have you tried the internet?”

“I couldn’t find anything.”

“Books?”

“No, nothing.”

“And so you thought the girl who has a garden could tell you.” He looked away.

“Yeah. Basically.”

“Well, I don’t.” His expression dropped. “But,” You tested the waters. Would it be alright? Would it be okay to suggest this one little thing? “Maybe if you come back tomorrow, I will have an answer.” 

That hopeful look on his face made a strained smile appear. Hadn’t you had enough? Are you not satisfied with the number of people you’ve tormented? How many more did you want to fall for your tricks?

let him go. but he can save me. stop lying to yourself. i’m not! it’s true! you don’t deserve it. i can change. you’ve said it before and look what happened then.

Your mind and your heart played tug-o-war over your feelings for Kageyama. Although the guilt and fear bit at your legs, slit your skin, churned your stomach, you listened to your heart. You allowed him into your house. You allowed yourself to smile with him, to laugh at his jokes. You allowed him to drag you to new places, trying new restaurants and video game cafes. Your heart wanted you to be free, but your mind held you by your neck.

you let him die. i didn’t mean to! it wasn’t my fault. yes, it was. you knew his love, you knew how much he cared for you. he only cared for my looks. you know that’s not true. would you like me to remind you? no, please don’t. too late.

Your mind loved to see you suffer, to hear those sobs of agony. It loved the way you desperately tried to wipe the tears, only making the swelling worse. It showed you the first time he met you, to when he gave you that big bright smile of his. It showed you the way he looked at you as if you were the only girl in the world. It made you relive those memories - no, nightmares.

do you see his love now? … do you need another reminder? how about your next victim?

The throb of your temple could never compare to the slap you received that day. You could still feel the sting. You could still hear their cries and accusations.

“You killed her! It was you! It was all your fault! How could you let this happen? Why didn’t you notice her? She was such a sweet girl. She just wanted you to be happy and now she’s gone. She’s gone. Gone because you didn’t love her back.”

Your knees ached. Your heart wept. Your empty stomach bubbled.

i’m sorry. please... please just stop. you think sorry is going to bring them back? to fix this mess? laughable. you think that pitiful garden of yours is going to make up for their existence? you think caring for their flowers will make up for the care they had for you? what a joke.

You were a joke, something so foolish it was comical. No matter how much you convinced yourself you were caring, that you were giving back to those who lost their lives because of you, it wasn’t enough. And he was going to be another.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered. The stars freckled themselves all over the midnight sky; one even winked at you. You hummed in response.

“Why I’m allowing myself to be with you like this.” He pretended it didn’t hurt. The familiar scraping hit the back of his throat. The flowers were getting worse. They were growing, getting larger. It was harder to cough them up. They drew more blood on their way up.

“So why do you?”

“I don’t know.” Your gaze fixating on the moon, its radiance illuminating your exhausted eyes. “You shouldn’t be around me.”

“But I am.”

“Then I shouldn’t be around you.”

“Why are you?”

“I don’t know.” You repeated with a sigh. “I don’t know a lot of things, but I do know that you’ll only get hurt when you’re with me.”

“Listen (Y/N),” he shifted his position, “No one forced me to hang out with you. I did it on my own so I think I know what’s good for me and what isn’t.” You didn’t meet his eyes.

“You know I can’t love you back.” His jaw clenched at the statement. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he searched your face for some regret or restrain.

“Am I - am I not enough for you?” He breathed out the question, afraid that it was coated too much with his fears.

“It’s not that.”

“Then why can’t I be the one? Why can’t you love me back?” It wasn’t like you didn’t have an answer, but it was more like you didn’t know how to answer.

The silence was interrupted by a fit of coughs. Kageyama was gasping. He dug his nails into the ground, not caring if mud and dirt made themselves home under them. He clenched his trachea, attempting to quell the needle-like pricks. One, three, seven flowers fell from his pale lips. He coughed until his head spun. Coughed until his arms gave out. It truly felt like he was dying while living.

“Kageyama?” You didn’t care that your indifference quickly snapped into concern. You patted his back and grabbed his shoulders. “Kageyama, are you okay?” The coughing didn’t stop; he couldn’t stop them. Several flowers littered the grass, enough to make multiple bouquets. Your grasp on his shuddering body tightened. His chest heaved. For once, you were looking into his eyes.

“They - they weren’t your fault. You couldn’t control your feelings.” So he knew. “Let yourself cave to your emotions. It wasn’t your fault.” He was too pale, growing colder. “You don’t need anyone’s approval to love. They wanted you to be happy. So go and be happy.” His voice croaked and cracked, the flowers clogging his vocal tube. His breaths were short. His lids were closing. He was dying.

“Kageyama?” You called, this time it was your voice’s turn to crack. “To-Tobio. Please. I won’t be able to handle it. Don’t go.”

“I wish I could be there for you. I wish it were me. But I just want you to be happy. Be happy even if I’m not the one making you happy.” He tried to smile. You didn’t know. Your vision was blurred. 

He took one more glance at your face, still with that grin plastered on his face, before closing his eyes. You panicked, eyes wide and shaking his head.

“Kageyama?” You were alarmed. 

“Don’t do this to me.” You were afraid. 

“Come… Back.” You were devastated.

Your sobs turned into gasps. Your lungs felt like they were being squeezed and popped like a balloon. Your tears fell onto his still warm skin. A gulp of air was caught in your throat. It caught you off guard and you coughed. You coughed and choked. Was this how he felt? Was this how they felt? How painful. You couldn’t care less about how you sounded. You felt numb. The taste of salt and metal filled your mouth.

“What if,” It was quiet but audible, your throat too tired and bruised to be strong, “I loved you?” The single warm petal sat on the side of Kageyama’s cheek, taunting you and giggling at how foolish you were. it’s your turn it sneered.

“Kou, what if I rode you tonight?” The words slipped right past your lips so casually that it was almost as if you were discussing what to eat for dinner. You were relaxed and just exploring on your phone but Bokuto was a different story. He was mid-swig from his bottle of water when your request caught him off guard. He was thrown in a coughing fit, his body erupting and shaking from the force of them. His eyes were teary and his slightly bushy brows were furrowed when he stared at you.

“E-excuse me? Sorry, I don’t think I quite caught that.” His tone was a mix of being in disbelief and flabbergasted.

“I mean, shouldn’t we change things up?” You placed your phone down and turned to your grey haired boyfriend. “You’re always topping, why not let me have a go at it?” He blinked and tried to figure out if you were joking or not. But you were quite serious.

“What? You don’t think I’ll do a good job?”

“No! Of course not!” He swallowed hard. “I’m sure you’ll be great at - uh, satisfying my needs, but you don’t have to do it.

“But what if I want to?” You swung one leg over his waist, encasing his own. His eyes widened as they followed your movements. Is this how you felt when he came onto you? Because, damn. Your hips, your thighs, your chest, all presenting themselves right in front of his face. If he could, he would stay like that forever. But he was hot, bothered, and a blushing mess. Placing one hand on his chest while leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along his jawline, you could feel his body tense but slowly relax at your touch. With his jaw, unhinged, and his mouth agape, he practically gave up and allowed you to do whatever you wanted. Until you stopped.

“Wha-” A noise slipped past his lips; he didn’t intend for it to sound like a whine.

“You sure you don’t want me to continue?” The air made the wet spots along his face feel cold against his rising body temperature. He could feel himself touching your inner thighs. His face was probably a deep shade of pink already. 

“W-what no! No. Please. Don’t stop.”

“Had to only say that in the beginning.” You blew into his ear while lowering yourself on him. He shivered at first, but once your clothed sex touched his, he jolted from finally getting some sort of relief. Maybe it was because you approached him in a different manner but seeing Bokuto like this made it much more enjoyable. For once, you got to see him squirm under your control.

You gently rolled your hips over his bulge, a sigh grazing your lips. Bokuto’s bottom lip was caught under his teeth in an attempt to silence his grunts. You could feel his hot breath tickling the skin on your nape. Your fingers danced along his chest, making sure to touch every dip, bump, and vein. Your hands found their way to his grey locks and his finding their way to your hips, guiding them. 

“(Y-Y/n). Can I? P-please. I wanna be inside you.” His breath was staggering and he found it hard to keep his eyes open. You simply nodded and stumbled to remove whatever clothing you had on. Bokuto had a hard time removing his jeans because of his fogged mind and his painful erection made it difficult to move. Every movement caused a soft moan to fall and threatened to make him orgasm. But you didn’t quite care if he was going to cum right on the spot. Your neediness was getting in the way for you to care.

You slipped onto his cock, a long and quite loud moan filled the room from finally being able to feel him inside. Though his lust-haze made it difficult for him to keep his eyes open, he watched in awe at the disappearance of his cock entering your dripping opening. He swallowed hard at the way your body fit so well with his, holding and squeezing it just right.

His hands travelled around your body, trying to feel every spot there is. Not that he needs to since he already has your whole body memorized. The sound of your mewls, moans, cries mixed the sounds of skin slapping and the mixing of your two liquids played like a song in Bokuto’s ears. It made him dizzy. He could feel your walls clamp down on him indicating that you were close.

You picked up the pace and a string of moans left your mouth as he tried to meet you halfway at each thrust. He came inside you, thick white ropes of semen coated your walls, spilling and sticking to your inner thighs and his shaft. Your body quite literally slammed itself against his as you released all over his cock, a mixture of his cum and yours oozed itself from where you two connected.

You both tried to catch your breaths, your hands on his broad shoulders to help keep you upright. His breathing was uneven and you felt the heaves of his chest against yours.

》  Akaashi would be racking his brain for an enjoyable date.

》   Wants it to be perfect. He’s already perfect so anything he does is *chef’s kiss*

》   So he starts preparing as soon as he got the request that you wanted to go on a date with him. He’s flattered and wants you to have as much fun as you can.

》   He’s sneaky though and doesn’t want to give any hints as to what he’s planning, so you need some patience when it comes to finding out what it is.

》   All he tells you is: “Don’t wear or bring anything you don’t want to get ruined.” Which kinda scares you but you don’t push it any further.

》   When you arrive, his house is like pure white. There are sheets and plastic e v e r y w h e r e. 

》   Who died here :skull:

》   You stand there kinda confused, not wanting to ruin the effort Akaashi put into making the room look white.

》   He has a smock and a cute ass painter’s hat. Then it hits you.

》   “We’re painting?”, “I’m glad you figured it out.”, “Good because I thought I had to help you dispose of a body. 💀 ”

》   Behind the counter you see multiple cans of paint; all of them are different bright colours.

》   It’s such a cute concept and you know you’ll have a lot of fun too!

》   Akaashi hands you an apron and starts cracking the cans open.

》   You take a brush and you look around, deciding where you should start first.

》   It’s so clean, you almost don’t want to ruin it. Keyword: almost.

》   Something about the colours are enticing you to just fuck the place up.

》   You dip the brush into a blue shade and draw a little “:)” on the floor.

》   Akaashi’s more daring and draws a “>:)” next to yours.

》   What you didn’t expect was that, that was Akaashi’s way of telling you he’s plotting something.

》   He scoops a bit of yellow on his finger and wipes it on your cheek.

》   The cold made you gasp and you turned to him who just wore a smirk.

》   R E V E N G E was plastered on your expression.

》   You dragged your blue covered brush all along his leg (he was wearing shorts) and it made him shiver.

》   You snickered calling him, “A half-smurf”.

》   He just says “Mike Wazowski” and now your whole arm is green.

》   He chased you once, and you slipped. You didn’t know if it was the paint everywhere or that the sheets shifted.

》   Akaashi was trying to hide his laughter but he wasn’t doing a good job.

》   So you pulled his arm and he landed with you. You even gave him a hug and rubbed all the paint onto him.

》   Your clothes are ruined but at least you got a hug out of it.

》   You two have more colour on your bodies than the actual room.

》   “Why are you painting the white sheets with white paint?”, “There was a stain. I covered it for you 😌“, “But there’s no point?”

》   Then after you two are covered in sweat and paint, cheeks warm with wide grins, you lay down on the wet floor.

》   Your back on the ground and just staring at the ceiling, him next to you.

》   Your shoulders are barely touching but you can hear his breathing.

》   You exchange words and eventually the time passes, both of you not caring if the paint is drying and cracking (it’ll be a bitch to get out later though).

》   There’s a few giggles that leave your lips and it makes his own curl at the sound.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Did you enjoy your date with Akaashi Keiji? Because he sure did! He left you a message!

— thank you for choosing me to be your boyfriend. i hope you had as much fun as i did. i hope you accept my invitation to go on another, because i would love that a lot. thanks again, mike wazowski.