A ragged breath hits the mic on his end. "I'm outside. Well. Outside your window, specifically. And I’m drenched." A weak, self-deprecating chuckle breaks through the static. "Even Infinity doesn't feel like keeping the water off tonight." Liar. You know how he is.

You sit up, the blankets pooling around your waist. "Come inside. The window's unlocked." A second later, the latch clicks. A chill cuts through the bedroom air, followed by the soft, heavy thud of socks on your floorboards. He’s a massive, dark silhouette in the shadows, his white hair damp and hanging loose over his forehead, completely covering his eyes. The blindfold is stuffed into his pocket.

He doesn't move toward the bed. He stands there, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders uncharacteristically slumped. The strongest sorcerer alive, looking entirely fragile.

"I tried," he says, his voice cracking slightly on the syllable. He swallows hard, the movement of his throat sharp in the dim light. "I tried to do the whole... distant thing. To give you space. Keep you out of the mess. But I’m stupid. I’m so stupid."

You slide to the edge of the mattress, reaching out. Your fingers catch the damp hem of his sleeve. "Satoru, what's wrong?"

He collapses forward. Not hard, but like a tree finally giving into the wind. He drops to his knees by the bedside, burying his face directly into your lap. His hands come out of his pockets and wrap around your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing keeping him above water.

He’s warm, radiating that intense, overwhelming heat he always has, but he’s trembling. Just a little.

"I can’t do it," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your thighs. "Everything is loud. The noise, the people, the higher ups... it’s all just constant noise. When I’m with you, it stops. My brain actually shuts up."

You run your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, despite the dampness, clumping between your fingertips. He lets out a long, shuddering sigh at the touch, leaning into your palm like a stray cat.

"Three weeks," he whispers, tilting his head up just enough so you can see the brilliant, fractured blue of his eyes in the dark. They’re wide, blinking up at you with a desperate, sweet vulnerability that he only ever saves for this room. "Twenty-one days. I haven’t eaten properly. I broke three coffee mugs because I wasn't paying attention. I can't function, baby. I’m completely useless without you. It’s pathetic."

"It's not pathetic," you soften, leaning down to press your forehead against his damp hairline.

"It is," he insists, a tiny, genuine trace of his usual pout returning to his lips. He pulls himself up, shifting until he’s crawling onto the mattress, crowding your space until he can wrap his long arms completely around you, pulling you flush against his chest. He tucks his chin into the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

"I love you," he confesses, the words tumbling out fast, urgent, completely devoid of his usual smirk. "I love you so much it makes me dizzy. Please don’t ever let us argue for that long again. Just let me stay here. Let me be small for a little bit."

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, holding him tight, feeling the rapid, steady thud of his heart against your ribs. "You can stay, Satoru. As long as you need."

He relaxes completely, his heavy frame going pliant against yours, burying his face back into your neck with a soft, content sigh. The strongest man in the world, finally safe enough to sleep.

Your eyes roll back down.

“Mhm.”

"And it was such a good question.”

You turn a page. "Really?”

“Yup.” He’s draped over the corner of your desk now, like gravity has wronged him, whining. “It was such a thoughtful… personal… deeply relevant… extremely genius level getting-to-know-you tier question that—”

You scowl. "—Satoru, enough. Just do your job."

It lands harder than expected. The sigh he lets out is deeply, theatrically offended. And when you glance up again, he’s sprawled over that same corner of your desk you made the mistake of clearing for him on day one because you’d thought, foolishly, that giving him a designated surface might contain him.

It had not.

Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.

Snowy white hair falls against his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows; looking far too expensive and far too comfortable for someone whose official title is intern. His coffee is sweating beside your open planner — the one with a date next week circled in red: WEDDING, scrawled across the margin in your own handwriting. The condensation trails towards a stack of vendor invoices and—

…

Wait.

Are those the same vendor invoices you asked him to file yesterday?

Fucking great.

“Oh, c’monnn,” he grumbles, blinking at you over the rim of those absurdly expensive sunglasses he insists on wearing indoors. “One question. Just a tiiiiny one. It’s completely harmless. Humor me, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes.

“Satoru, you’ve been trying to ask one question for the last four months.”

“Yeah,” he says. “And you’ve been dodging it for four months. Imagine that.”

Technically… four months and four days. But who’s counting?

With an exhausted groan, your eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Noise drifts in from the hall — the elevator, the printer, a phone trilling somewhere nearby.  But when you look up again, it all seems to fall away.

He’s gone strangely still. The smug grin hasn’t disappeared, but it’s softened at the edges, hooked at one corner with his head tilted slightly. And those eyes…

Oh.

That’s — no. You’ve seen his eyes before. Obviously. Four months of them. But right now, with the morning light doing something cruel and unhelpful behind him, they catch in a way that makes you forget you were mid-thought. The kind of blue that doesn’t ask if you’re looking. It already knows.

Which means of course, you look away first. “Fine.” Your hand drops as you mutter. “One question. But if it’s stupid, I’m sending you back to HR.”

It’s not much of a threat. It’s his last day, after all, and for reasons you still don’t fully understand, Satoru has always seemed oddly immune to consequences — which, frankly, feels statistically improbable given the amount of shit he’s managed to pull in the few months of being here.

“One question?” his grin sharpens. You point your pen at him. “Don’t make me regret this.” Yet his pleased chuckle is already making you. “Awhh… look at you. Finally yielding.” His pen twirls between his fingers, nodding with false solemnity. “Okay. So, here’s the thing… throughout these four months working beside you, I’ve seen a lot—"

“—that’s not a question.” You deadpan.

But ignoring you, he reclines back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head.

“Liiiike… I’ve seen the exact face you make when Mei-Mei emails you,” he smirks. “Even noticed you work through lunch more than you should. And I’ve noticed that little line right here—” he gestures vaguely between his own brows “—every time the budget goes sideways.”

Lips parting, you blink.

…why is he so observant?!

For someone who acts like he doesn’t give a shit, he’s strangely attentive.

You clear your throat, huffing. “Okay… what’s your point?” Your hands straighten a stack of papers that doesn’t need straightening. “Is there a question in here somewhere, or are you just reciting my habits back to me for fun?”

His grin is far too pleased. “Relax. I’m getting there.” And leaning forward, his voice drops, like he’s unraveling a conspiracy. “I just find it interesting how you answer work calls before the second ring. Every damn day. Doesn’t matter who it is.” His head tilts with a smug grin. “But for whatever reason, for the past month, your personal phone’s been ringing off the hook, and you never pick up. Not once.”

Heat creeps up your neck. Not because he’s wrong — but because he’s right. And he said it like it was nothing. Like noticing the pattern of your avoidance was just something that happened to him between stamps.

Oh.

Way too observant.

Shit. He couldn't have settled on what's your favorite color!? Or, what superpower would you have!? No. Of course he had to go for the fucking jugular.

His eyes drop to the planner lying open beneath the invoices. The circled date: WEDDING. And his grin sharpens. “Ohoho… I get it now,” he whistles, leaning back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “What’d your fiancé do to screw up this bad? Is the wedding off?”

Your head jerks up. “F-Fiancé?!” And he rolls his eyes with a scoff, still grinning. “Knew it. God, he must be really in the doghouse. Or maybe he’s just clingy as hell to be calling that much.”

You blink.

Okay. Nevermind. He’s wrong. That is not even remotely what’s happening. The most committed relationship you’ve had is the one with your coffee machine. And yet… part of it feels almost cosmically cruel.

Because somehow, this is the second time in a month that someone had looked at the scattered pieces of your life and decided a man must be hiding inside them. Except the first time, you never even got the chance to correct it.

After all… how do you tell your mother she’s wrong?

Last month, you still answered her phone calls.

Not because you expected anything different. But because somewhere between the second ring and the third, there’s this gap — this stupid, paper-thin gap — where you still believe she might ask how you’re doing and actually wait for the answer.

Some habits taste like smoke. Some burn like liquor. But yours, unfortunately, had always looked a lot like hope.

Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.

“Oh—uh, hi mom!”

Your phone was wedged between your ear and shoulder while you stepped out of your car, juggling your purse and what was left of your sanity. You were already behind schedule, and your mother was calling — which meant the day had already made its intentions very clear.

“What’s up?” the door slammed shut with your hip. “I’m actually about to—”

“—Trish sent the venue photos,” she blurted, launching into a conversation like always.

Blinking, you shook the bitterness away. Striding toward the towering glass of Gojo Corporation. “That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you muttered, badge in hand as you pushed through the front doors. “But I’m actually heading into work right now? So—”

“—It’s such a beautiful venue,” she ignored you. “Very traditional, very grand. But you know the Zenin family—they never do anything small.” And as she sighed in awe, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

The rational part of your brain told you to let this go to voicemail. But the rational part of your brain has never once won this fight. Because…

Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.

"Mom, I'm sure it's lovely, really… but I'm kind of—um, excuse me…" you pivoted around a man in the bustling lobby with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m literally walking into the building right now? But maybe we can revisit this later and—"

"—have you booked your flight yet?"

Your mouth flattened.

Clearly, your half of this conversation is optional.

“No… not yet,” you mumbled, as patiently as you could manage, jabbing the up button harder than necessary. “It’s been a crazy ass week so I haven’t had a chance to, but—”

“—every week is a crazy week for you.” The huff she let out sounded almost offended by the inconvenience of your life. “Why can’t you just book it now while we’re talking? I mean, it literally takes five minutes.”

A miracle, really, that your blood pressure isn’t a medical emergency.

Every week is a crazy week?

Yeah. No shit.

Two managers resigned last quarter. Another got escorted out by security. And their work didn’t disappear. No. It landed on your desk. Because that’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone. Group projects. Internships. End-of-quarter disasters no one else wanted to touch. If something needed fixing, it found its way to you.

You’re the one people relied on.

Just… never the one people chose.

“Mother. I’m at work,” you said, stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open, dropping your voice as you stabbed at floor fifteen. “Look—I’m about to walk into an eight a.m. meeting. But I’ll book it tonight, promise.”

“…eight a.m.?” she repeated slowly, before letting out a small, unbothered laugh. “Oh! Right. It’s eight p.m. here. Silly me. I keep forgetting.”

…

Keep forgetting?

She keeps forgetting that she’s ten thousand miles away? Forgetting that twenty years ago she abandoned you in another country to live abroad in Japan—handing you to your grandparents like a detail she'd get back to later?

How convenient that she forgot that.

The elevator slid shut, and you watched the numbers tick upward. “Um. Yeah…” you managed, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. “Anyways. I’ll book it tonight. After work. Okay?”

"Okay, okay. Sure. Sounds good. But are you bringing anyone?”

Squeezing the strap of your bag, you swallowed the lump in your throat. This again? The last thing you needed was to walk into your shitty eight a.m. meeting looking emotional.

No thanks.

“I… uh…” you cleared your throat. “I um—actually—haven’t decided yet. But anyways, I gotta go, so—”

“Waitwatiwait. Haven’t decided? Does that mean… you actually found someone?!”

Her voice pitched up so fast it almost startled you, and your mouth dropped so low it could’ve hit floor one.

Shit.

“I-I—I didn’t say—"

“—oh, thank God. This is incredible!!” she squealed. “We’ve been so worried. I mean—Trish is younger than you and she figured it out,” her tongue clicked. “People have been asking questions, you know. Your aunt Sara keeps bringing it up every time I see her and—”

“—Mom, I—"

“—It’s about time,” The laugh she let out was relieved, like a problem in her life had finally begun resolving itself. “You can’t keep putting love on hold forever, because men aren’t going to wait around forever. You’re already twenty-six—not getting any younger, dear.”

Love?!

Who has time for that?

And why the fuck is twenty-six the age a woman expires?!

“What’s his name?” she pressed, practically beaming through the phone. “What does he do? Is he from there, or—oh, is he Japanese? Your father would love that, he always said—”

And she was off.

Spinning an entire man out of thin air. An entire future, really. Building him in real time from a tiny slip up you had because you were too tired and cornered and desperate enough to answer the phone in the first place. And you stood there, letting her. Because interrupting her has never once worked in the history of your life.

“—actually, never mind,” she chirped a moment later, as if she was being considerate now. “You have work. I’ll call tomorrow and you can tell me everything, yes? Okay, bye-bye honey—”

Click!

And just like that, the elevator went quiet. You were left staring at your reflection in the metal doors, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the silence where your mother’s voice had been.

‘We’ve been so worried.’

…

If they were so worried… why had you spent most of your life learning to take care of yourself? And yet, the second there might be a man, suddenly you’re worth getting excited about?

Funny how that works.

Scoffing, you lowered the phone, shoving it into your bag just as the elevator chimed open. Itadori Yuji’s head snapped up behind the reception desk.

“Morning, boss,” he waved, radiating sunshine as you walked towards the conference room. “Kento’s asking if you’re still good for the budget review at eight… or if I should just tell him to panic.”

Your smile softened, burying the sting. “Yes… I’ll be right there.” And as you stepped through the polished glass doors, you played the role you’d always played.

The reliable one. Twenty-six years old, with two master’s degrees, a career at one of the most competitive corporations in the world, and a team of seven that would quietly fall apart without you.

But…

None of that glitters quite like a diamond ring, does it?

“Oi,” Satoru frowns. “You’re makin’ that face again.”

“Huh?”

Blinking out of your spiral, your eyes trace back to the man across from you. His chin is resting in his palm, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet stillness that makes something in your chest trip over itself — like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know was closed.

“Oh.” You clear your throat, forcing the pen back into motion. “…what face?”

“The one you make when something’s wrong,” he says quietly, gaze unmoving. “When you’re upset and trying to act like you’re not.”

For a second — one terrible, unguarded second — you don’t have a single thing to hide behind. It’s just him, looking at you like your well-being is something he’s been keeping track of in a column you didn’t even know existed.

But then the sarcasm kicks in, right on time. "Wow," you say, forcing your hands back to the papers in front of you. "So… now you read faces?"

“Mm... nah. Just yours, sweetheart.”

And that grin — god, that fucking grin — hooks at one corner like he knows exactly what just detonated inside your chest. You don’t acknowledge it. Acknowledging things have consequences, and consequences with this man are not something you can afford.

"…that’s highly inappropriate," you mutter, shoving it down. "Let’s maybe redirect some of that insight toward the invoices, yeah?"

“Sorry, sorry.” He leans back, hands up like he’s the picture of innocence. “Wouldn’t wanna start shit with your dear future husband.” His grin goes sharp as he twirls his sunglasses between two fingers. “Though, wow. Tough look for him. Whatever he did, he clearly fucked up bad.”

Why does he sound… bitter?

No. You must be imagining it. This is Satoru. Satoru, who treats everything like a joke until proven otherwise. Satoru, who doesn’t care enough about anything to sound bitter over a man who may or may not exist.

You scoff. "You’re making some wildly stupid assumptions right now…"

He perks up at that. "Oh?" With his grin hooking higher, almost hopeful. "Wait. So, there’s no fiancé, then?"

Your lips purse.

What does he care? He’s not your mother.

“I wish you’d be this interested in your actual job,” you sigh, arms crossing. “Those invoices have been sitting there all week.”

“Uh-huh.” He tips his head. “And yet somehow, I noticed you still didn’t answer me.”

You frown.

What the fuck are you supposed to say!?

Oh. Um. Actually, Satoru, there is no fiancé. That’s the problem, actually! My mother invented him the other morning and I haven't worked up the nerve to call her back.

Yeah. No. You'd rather die at this desk.

“Maybe because it’s none of your business.”

“But I—”

“Drop it.”

He stares at you for a beat, then he flops back in the chair with a dramatic huff, long legs kicking out in front of him, mouth dragging into a sulky pout.

“Well, damn,” he grumbles, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, rolling his eyes. “No wonder you’re single if this is how you shut people down…”

The second the words leave his mouth, he blinks. His gaze flicks up to yours like he hears it too late — like he realizes, all at once, how shitty that sounded.And it only feels worse the moment he sees your face.

God.

Of all the places to hit.

“Oho… wow. Okay. This?” you say with a thin, self-deprecating laugh, chair scraping as you shove back from your seat. “Yeah. This is exactly why I shouldn’t have let you ask, Satoru.” You reach for your planner, your purse, anything to do with your hands besides let them shake.

He straightens, watching you scramble. “Whoa. Wait. I—"

“—because you don’t know when to stop!” The words come out louder than you mean, blinking at the sting behind your eyes. “You just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you get what you want. Well good. I hope you’re happy.”

Before you can turn away, he’s on his feet. “Wait—” And the moment his hand catches yours, you freeze, breath snagging.

His voice is quieter now. His grip is firm yet gentle, and the air between you shifts, while something warm and uneasy twists low in your chest. The kind of feeling that makes you want to lean in and run in the same breath.

Though your eyes stay down. “Satoru… let go.”

“I didn’t…” he starts, then stops, gaze flicking to where his fingers still circle your wrist — before climbing back to your face, slower this time. “I’m… sorry. I just—” His mouth tightens. “I see how hard you work, okay? I see it. And every time that phone rings, you get this look on your face like it’s already ruined your day before you even touch it. And…” His brows pinch. “Fuck. I dunno why, but it pisses me off!”

Your gaze hesitantly drags to his, and the look in his eyes is softer than they have any right to be — all that blue, stripped of its usual sharpness, turned careful. Like he’s stepping toward something breakable and knows it. Like… if he asked once more, something in you might actually give.

“Satoru…” your breath hitches. “I-I—"

“Oh, finally.”

Shoko’s voice trails in, and your head snaps up so fast your neck almost goes with it. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, coffee in hand — looking like a woman who arrived exactly on time for something she's been expecting all week.

Her gaze flicks down to where he’s holding you, and the corner of her mouth twitches.

"Sooo… not to interrupt whatever this is," she says, taking a sip, "but Kento's one eye-twitch away from a medical event. He needs you to sign off on the variance line before he starts reconciling his own will and—"

You're already jerking your hand back. "Yup—coming!" And as you step away, heat floods your face, but you don't look back. Not once. Not even when you feel him still standing there, watching you go.

Because looking back would mean acknowledging that something just shifted. And you are not — not — doing that today.

Unlike those invoices, perhaps some things are better left… unfinished.

You’re gone in a blur of heels, nerves, and professional self-preservation, leaving Shoko trailing behind and Satoru staring at the empty doorway like maybe the conversation might wander back through it.

It doesn’t.

And it’s not long before his mouth is pulling into a slow, petulant pout—just before he flops back in the chair with all the elegance of a man personally betrayed by the universe.

Un-fucking-believable.

He’d almost had you! After four months and four days of being stonewalled, redirected, and professionally shut down, you’d finally looked like you might give him something. A crack. A sliver. And then Kento had to ruin it with his stupid reconciliation sheet, his stupid earnest face, and his stupidly impeccable timing.

…

He could fire Kento.

Should he fire Kento?

As tempting as that thought is, Satoru settles for glaring at the empty doorway a second longer before dragging a hand down his face and raking it back through his hair. There’s no point. This performance will end soon. Because by this time tomorrow, he’ll be on a flight back to Tokyo. Where he can resume the slow, agonizing process of preparing to inherit a company he didn't actually give a shit about.

'Grow up, Satoru.'

'Apply yourself, Satoru.'

'You have no idea what it takes to run something like this, Satoru.'

Right. Because apparently, the heir to a multinational corporation needed to learn humility. Alphabetize files. Sit in a cubicle. Fetch coffee like some goddamn spreadsheet slut with a trust fund and nowhere to put it.

Four years of business school, two years shadowing his father; and yet, this is what they had for him?!

He scoffs. And when his gaze drops to the wreckage of your desk, he’s pulling the stack of vendor invoices toward him with a sigh that sounds put-upon even to his own ears. You’ve been nagging him about filing them for the better part of the week and… the least he can do is clear one thing before he goes.

The stamp thuds against the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And with muscle memory taking over, his face goes blank in the way it always does when boredom finally wins. It’s mindless shit. Still, he’s used to it. So naturally, when the phone on your desk buzzes, he doesn’t think twice; snatching it up, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he reaches for the next invoice.

It’s probably another budget nuisance. Or Mei. Or one of the other thousand little crises that seem magnetically drawn to your extension.

“Yo,” another stamp echoes. “Satoru speaking.”

There’s a sharp inhale. “…who?”

His brow lifts. “Uh… Satoru?” Another thud of ink slams against the paper and he huffs, annoyed. “What do y’need?”

The line goes quiet for a beat too long. Before the woman on the other end finally murmurs, “Satoru…” Sighing in awe. “What a lovely name. Is that Japanese?”

"Uh… yeah?” he snorts, flipping to the next page. “I mean. Last I checked.”

“Mm… I thought so!” She giggles. And her voice pitches like she's just unwrapped a present she didn't know she was getting. “So… Satoru. Why exactly are you the one answering her phone, hm?”

…

Why the hell does this woman sound so invested? And why is she asking questions that should be obvious?

Frowning down at the invoice, he stamps it harder.

“Because it rang?” He says it like it’s obvious. “And uh—sorry, but. Maybe because I’ve been with her for months, so… why the hell wouldn’t I?”

"Months?!” A soft gasp crackles, far too delighted. “You've—you've been with her for months?!"

"Mmm… four months and four days, technically."

He’s been her intern for that long.

That’s the question, right?

"—technically?!" she squeals, like the word personally seduced her. "Ohmygoodness—oh, this is perfect. Four months and four days—that is so specific.”

He blinks. But she doesn’t give him time to process.

“Look at you Mr. Devoted. Keeping track. I was starting to worry she’d never find someone like you. Every time I asked it's like pulling teeth. But I knew there had to be someone. I told her father—I said, there is a man, I can feel it.”

Pausing mid-stamp, the words slowly begin to catch up. Satoru straightens.

"…sorry. Who is thi—"

“—everyone is so excited to meet you at Trish’s wedding. I already reserved your seat and—"

Her voice keeps going… and going… and going. He pulls the phone away slowly as her voice echoes on the receiver, staring down at the phone in hand to see:

📞 Mom

Oh.

Oh, shit.

This is not your work phone. Your work phone is currently sitting at its dock twelve inches to his left. And it dawns on him that he accidentally just spent the last sixty seconds answering your personal phone like an absolute jackass and—

"Uh…” he backpedals. “Wait. I—"

"I told Sara, I said, we have to meet him and—”

"Stop. I-I really think—"

“—Satoru, what are you doing?’

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, mouth dropping as he sees you standing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.

Oh, fuck.

“Who is on the other end of that phone,” you hiss.

He winces, pulling the phone from his ear like it’s toxic — and you’re snatching it right out of his hand. He lets you have it without a fight, sinking back into the chair like he’s trying to physically dissociate from the situation he’s just created while you press the phone to your ear.

“And I mean…” she rambles. “I certainly was never one to wait around at twenty-six, believe me. But—"

"Mom."

"Oh! Honey!” She gasps. “Oh, my goodness, hi—I was just having the loveliest chat with—"

"I'm at work. Gotta go."

"—okay! I can't wait to meet Satoru, he—"

Click!

The phone sits in your hand like evidence.

And Satoru — to his credit — has the decency to look like a man standing in the blast radius of his own stupidity. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Like he’s rehearsing an apology in a language he hasn’t learned yet.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

And somewhere ten thousand miles away, your mother is already calling your aunt Sara.

“Sooo… funny story…”

“—what did you do?!”

Satoru flinched, and now, the tears were already rolling down your cheeks — hot, fast, completely unauthorized. Not the kind you could disguise as allergies or blame on the air conditioning. No. The ugly kind.

Great. Fucking great.

You were standing in the middle of your own office, in the building where you work, crying in front of your intern. And Satoru felt the weight of it all at once. In the last four months, he had seen you in every flavor of workplace misery there was. Pissed off, stressed out, one spreadsheet away from actual murder.

But cry?

Never.

And this had his fingerprints all over it.

"Shit," he breathed, panic flashing across his face. "I—fuck. Okay. Please don't—I can fix this. I can—"

"Fix this?" A splintered laugh ripped out of you, and you hated how thin it was. "Fix what, Satoru? You just confirmed a boyfriend to my mother, a boyfriend that doesn't exist—and she is, at this very moment, probably already—"

Another break in your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hand to your forehead hard like you could hold the tears in by sheer force. But it only made it worse, because now you could feel the wetness on your own face, the heat of it under your palm, and the mortification landed like a second wave.

God. How fucking humiliating.

"Hey, hey—it's okay,” his voice softened. “We'll just… call her back. Right? Tell her it was a misunderstanding. Easy."

“Easy?” you scoffed, the word coming out strangled. “Y-You don’t understand my mother, Satoru,” you managed, voice gone thin as thread. God, you sounded like a child. “If she thinks something is true, then it’s true. That’s it. That’s—there’s no correcting her, there’s no walking it back, she’s already told my aunt Sara by now and Sara’s told Trish and—oh, fuck—”

Another sob tumbled out, and your fingers dug harder into your temple.

God. Stop it.

Stop it stop it stop it.

Think.

Think logically. You're good at this. You solve problems for a living.

But every time you tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped — replaced by the echo of your mother's voice, high and delighted. The happiest she'd sounded talking to you in years. Maybe ever.

…what look will she give you when you show up alone?

"I can’t," you whispered, and the word came out waterlogged. "I-I'm supposed to get on a plane to Japan in a week and—do what? Tell them there's no one? Tell them I'm still—"

Single.

The word sat in your mouth like a stone. You didn’t realize you’d gone silent until the silence itself started ringing — your sniffling, the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled life of the office continuing beyond the door like yours wasn’t actively coming apart at the seams.

And through all of it, you could feel Satoru looking at you. His stillness; holding you with an expression you'd never seen on him before and couldn't categorize if you tried.

"Um…” he looked down, scratching the back of his neck. “Soooo... the wedding's in Japan?"

You blinked. “What?” And as you wiped your face with the back of your hand, his gazed tentatively flicked back up. “The wedding…” he repeated, voice careful. “It’s in Japan?”

"Yes." Your brow furrowed, not understanding. "Why?"

He didn't answer right away. Just looked down at the floor for a second, jaw shifting, like he was turning something over in his head — something he hadn't fully assembled yet but could already feel the shape of.

"Huh… okay."

Okay what?

You watched his expression change in real time — from guilt to calculation to something else. "Right then!" He said, clapping his hands once, bright and sudden. "No biggie. I'll just go with you."

No biggie?

Your mouth dropped.

That wasn’t even an option, was it?

…is he crazy?

“You’re kidding,” your laugh was awkward and breathless. His eyes rolled with a smug grin. “Sweetheart, c’mon,” and he was gesturing between the two of you like the answer was sitting there in plain sight and you were the only person in the room committed to not seeing it. "Your family thinks you're bringing someone? Cool." A hand pressed to his chest with theatrical solemnity. "I'm someone."

You stared at him. Genuinely stared.

Oh. He wasn’t kidding.

Yup. He’s crazy.

"You are not 'someone,' Satoru. You are my intern."

“Yeah. For like… another six hours?"

He checked his watch with a shrug, and your lips flattened.

"…that is not the point."

“Mm… feels a little like the point."

He smirked, but it faded faster than usual, dimming at the edges as his blue eyes hesitated on yours. Something shifted in his posture; the performance pulling back, like a tide going out. "Um… look…" He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. "It’s really no hassle." He said, hands sliding into his pockets. "I already have a flight scheduled. My family's in Tokyo. And I was going back after this internship anyway, so… this just moves my timeline back a little."

He was shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t agreeing to fly across the world with you and walk straight into the disaster that was your family.

…

His family’s in Japan too?

You barely knew anything about him. He kept his life sealed off with the same practiced deflection you kept yours — jokes in place of answers, charm in place of honesty. You never bothered to ask, because asking meant caring and that was a door you never intended to walk through with anyone.

But…

"Just… let me come with you. I’ll be your boyfriend for the weekend. For the wedding. For… whatever you need,” he said. And this time, when he stepped closer, there was no grin to hide behind. "I can be useful. I caused this. So… let me fix it."

Heat creeped up your neck, and you scoffed, weakly.

"Okay… but you can't fix my mother."

"No…” he murmured, tilting his head. His hand came up and brushed a tear trailing down your cheek with a careful gentleness. “But… I can make sure you don't have to walk in there alone?"

Your breath hitched, and when your eyes finally lifted, the morning light was being cruel again — catching in that impossible blue and turning it soft. Like stained glass dipped in sunlight. Like something holy made dangerous by the simple fact that it was looking straight at you.

“Mhn. So, do I get the job, boss lady? Because that look you’re giving me…” a slow smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Very encouraging for my boyfriend résumé, by the way. Might get addicted to it and wanna make it a full-time gig.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, looking away too fast to be convincing.“That was not a look. I was just—” You grimace. “…never mind.”

He’s chuckling as you brush past him. And his words are what scared you the most. Which was bad. Very, very bad. Because your mother was one problem. Japan was another. But Satoru looking at you like that?

Shit…

That felt like the kind of complication that didn’t stay neatly contained. And you knew better than anyone. Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.

a/n: hehe. this has been fun to work on! i am excited to share the next part. clearly i love these fake dating/fake marriage tropes aha 🙂‍↕️ bc this is like... what—my third time doing it? soooo i tried to change things up and make it feel less standard/generic :) but anyways, like i said pt 2 will be out in a week, pls lmk if you wanna be tagged 💖

you wake up to sunlight filtering through the blinds on the window, and yawn. you smile; today’s your birthday!

you reach over on koushi’s side of the bed, only to find that it’s cold there. you sit up, confused. and then you realize that he probably just left early for work today.

you check your phone to see if he’s sent you anything this morning, but it comes up blank. you shrug, figuring he’ll probably just come home this afternoon and wish you a happy birthday himself.

you spend the day enjoying your day off, watching your favorite shows and lounging around. obviously you wish suga was with you, but you know he needs to work today, so you have a little self-love session.

4:00 approaches and you wait for him to come home, as he usually comes home around this time. you wait, and wait, and figure maybe he just had some things to do at work.

then 6:00 rolls around and you’re a little bit tired of waiting around, but you figure it’s not that big of a deal.

it’s past 8:00 when you’ve become irritated, your phone empty, not a single message from your boyfriend in your inbox.

then, you finally hear the door open, and you go to see him. he gives you a peck on the lips and continues down the hallway towards his desk, where he sits down and sets up his laptop. he doesn’t pick up on your irritation at all.

“so,” you start. “where have you been?”

“work,” he mutters, eyes focused on the screen of his computer. you scoff, and he finally looks up at you. “what?”

“i don’t know, i just thought we’d do something today. you’re always busy.”

he sighs, as if he doesn’t have the patience to deal with you. “i know, baby. but i need to finish this, okay?” he turns back to his screen.

“seriously? that’s all you have to say?”

“y/n, i don’t have the energy for this. we’ll do something later, okay?” he says, not even paying attention to you.

and then it finally dawns on you that, he forgot.

you want to say something but decide against it, turning on your heel and entering your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

suga sighs, exhausted, and looks at the time on his computer. 9:28 pm, the clock reads, next to the date. then his eyes finally find the date, and his heart drops.

he scrambles around on his laptop, afraid to check his calendar to confirm, but it’s lying there, outlined in red, fat letters.

it’s your birthday. and he completely forgot.

then he remembers the way you were acting, and everything makes sense now. and then he remembers how he treated you. he feels terrible.

he knocks twice on the door and opens it to find the light off and you in bed already, turned away from him on your side. his chest pangs with regret.

he kneels down in front of you, and you turn away from him.

“baby?”

no response.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i totally forgot about today and i—”

“it’s fine, koushi. you were just busy,” you cut him off, voice embarrassingly watery.

“that’s not an excuse, okay? i should’ve made time for you, and i got so caught up in my work that i just forgot that i’m not the only one in this relationship,” he explains. “please let me make it up to you?”

silence.

“i love you?” he tries again, heart in his throat. he waits a few moments.

then you turn back over to face him, and your eyes are watery.

“i just missed you.”

his own eyes are filling up now, and he puts his forehead on yours.

“i’ll be better from now on, okay?”

you nod, that smile he loves taking its rightful place on your face.

he laughs softly.

matsukawa

you know mattsun loves you (he really does)

but lately it seems like he hasn’t had any time for you

you know that he’s always quite busy, what with work and other friends

but sometimes you wish you could just spend some time alone with him

luckily, your birthday is coming up!

every year, you and issei spend the day together just relaxing and being with each other

you’re looking forward to just having a day to spend with him :)

issei has already left for work when you wake up, and you send him a message telling him to have a good day.

today, you figure you’ll be productive, organizing the pantry and doing a little cooking for yourself.

it’s late in the afternoon when issei finally comes home, and you get up, excited to see him! you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze gently, your face in his chest. but something’s wrong, because he doesn’t hug you back in the way he usually would.

he walks past you and into the living room, and he doesn’t seem to be in a good mood today.

“is everything okay?” you ask. he shrugs.

“work has just been exhausting lately,” he mutters.

“oh,” you reply. “maybe you should take some time off, relax a bit?” he scoffs, as if the idea offends him.

“i can’t do that right now, y/n.”

“well, maybe you have to. i feel like i never see you anymore; you’re never even around,” you mumble, frustrated.

he seems to be getting just as irritated as you, because he sighs in annoyance.

“look, you can’t expect me to spend every hour of every day with you. some people actually have things to do. don’t put this on me just because you’re lonely, okay?” you reel back, hurt.

why is he treating you like this? and on your birthday?

and then you realize that he doesn’t even know. and that hurts even worse.

“issei, i’m not asking you to throw away your life for me? but it’s like you don’t even care about spending time with me anymore!”

he puts his head in his hands, frustrated.

“y/n, why are you so mad at me? i’ve had a really fucking rough day today, and i don’t need you yelling—”

“well maybe if you hadn’t forgotten my fucking birthday, i wouldn’t be so upset!”

he freezes. what?

you turn away from him, eyes watering angrily, and stifle a sob. you don’t even care that much about your birthday, but the fact that he didn’t even care enough to remember stings bitterly.

meanwhile, issei is helplessly counting dates and weeks in his head. he’s reeling through a calendar in his mind, and when he finally realizes what day it actually is, his heart stops for a second.

“baby...”

“just forget it,” you whisper, voice tiny. “it wasn’t that important anyway.”

he tries to reach for your hand but you push him away.

“i’m just gonna go to bed, i think,” you mutter under your breath. “i’m sorry for yelling at you.”

as you leave, mattsukawa watches you go, and while he’s desperate to catch you and apologize, you’re probably angry at him and he doesn’t want to make it worse.

the more he thinks about it, the worse he feels. when he can’t think of the last time the two of you just spent some time together, he realizes you were right. he put his own problems in front of you, and in doing so, he hurt your feelings. he couldn’t even remember your own birthday. determined to make things right, he takes out his phone.

around half an hour later, he opens the door softly. the lights are off and you’re on your side, still sniffling quietly. the bed dips behind you, and you turn to see issei next to you. he lies down on his side, facing you, and brings your face close to his. he noses at your cheek affectionately, and while you’re upset, you’ve missed his touch so much you can’t push him away.

“i’m taking a week off just for the two of us, okay?” he whispers against your lips. your eyes get watery again. issei doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for making you cry on your birthday.

“you did this for me?” you whimper.

he sighs regretfully. “i’m so sorry, baby. i didn’t even realize how much i was neglecting you. please let me make it up to you?”

you laugh, sobbing pathetically, and bury your face in his chest.

“okay,” you giggle softly. “cuddles?”

he pulls the covers over you and holds you close.

“anything.”

sakusa

dating a pro athlete was never something you pictured yourself doing, ever

but now that you’re doing it, you can’t see your life any other way :)

the only thing is, sakusa always has a lot on his plate

having a balance between you and the rest of his life has always been difficult

and lately, it feels like he’s been drifting away

you miss him :(

buttt thankfully your birthday is coming up, so you hope that’ll give you some time alone with each other!

sakusa has been very busy with the MSBY team, and it’s been hard for him to think about anything else.

today, he’d left super early in the morning to get to practice. the team had to condition even harder than usual, and kiyoomi was already running on low energy when they began actual practice. and now, practice is over, and he’s irritable and all he wants to do is go home and sleep.

meanwhile, you’ve been at home, waiting for him to come back after practice. neither of you are that big on birthdays, but you’re hoping that you’ll be able to spend a few hours with him before the day is over.

when he finally walks through the door, you get up and take his bag for him, welcoming him home. he mutters a thanks under his breath.

you notice that he’s even more tired than usual, and you nudge at his arm. “you okay, omi?”

“tired,” he murmurs.

“oh,” you respond. “wanna watch a movie? or are you hungry? we could always—”

“i don’t feel like doing anything right now, y/n.”

you deflate. “sorry, i just figured that you’ve been so busy lately, and i thought maybe it’d be good for you to relax.”

“i think it’d be good for you to just leave me alone right now, y/n. i need to rest, and you’re just being a distraction.” sakusa rests his head against the couch, closing his eyes.

your heart stings at that, and now it’s clear to you that he doesn’t even remember what day it is. there’s a lump in your throat, and you swallow.

“right.”

you decide to leave and let him be, walking into your bedroom and closing the door behind you. he probably didn’t even notice that i left, you think.

kiyoomi is laying on the couch, head tilted up to the ceiling, when his rest is interrupted by his phone ringing. he plans to ignore it, but it’s so loud that he just picks it up in annoyance.

“what,” he grits out, irritated.

“chill dude, i was just checking in to see how you were doing!” atsumu chuckles into the phone on the other side. “you looked like you were about to fall over at practice.”

“well, i was trying to get some rest in right now, but then someone decided to call me,” sakusa mutters. atsumu laughs again.

“okay, well, i’ll leave you to it then,” he continues. “oh wait, tell y/n i said happy birthday!”

sakusa grumbles at that, about to hang up when atsumu’s words register in his head.

he sits up, fully awake now. “what?”

“tell them i said happy birthday; i didn’t get a chance to text them at all today,” he explains.

“...”

“omi?”

“i’ll call you back.”

“what—”

he hangs up the phone and stares at it for a while.

fuck. fuck. fuck. what day is it? i could’ve sworn.. there’s no way.. kiyoomi’s mind is racing.

his heart is beating rapidly in his chest as he checks his reminders on his phone. and there it is, bolded neatly: “y/n’s birthday.”

“fuck,” sakusa swears, burying his face in his hands. he can’t believe that he forgot. the fact that atsumu remembered and he didn’t.. god, he fucked up. badly.

he called you a distraction and told you to leave him alone when you just wanted to spend some time together. and now he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

he opens the door after knocking on it softly. he sees you gasp softly, hiccuping, and then bury your face in your pillow in an attempt to seem asleep. he would laugh at your adorable behavior if he didn’t feel like absolute shit right now.

for now, though, he sits on the bed next to you, and pulls the covers off of you. you shiver, and he scoops you up into his lap. you feel warm and soft, and you hide your face away from his gaze in his chest. he kisses your hair affectionately, and you sniffle at the gesture. you cry into his shirt, comforted by his touch.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he mumbles. “i’m sorry for forgetting about today and for neglecting you and for being a complete asshole to you when you didn’t do anything wrong.”

your grip on his shirt tightens, and you snuggle in closer to him.

“i love you, okay? i never wanted to hurt you, and i hate myself for doing that to you.”

at that, you look up at him, teary-eyed and nose red from sniffling.

“‘s okay, omi. i’m not mad at you for forgetting about my birthday. i just miss you being here with me. sometimes it feels like you don’t even want me anymore.”

kiyoomi looks down at you in disbelief. how could you think that? he can’t even imagine how his life would be without you in it.

he puts your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away your tears. he lays a kiss on your lips, and then a couple on your eyelids, and more on your cheeks.

“i’d never want to live in a life without you. i need you,” he whispers.

“so sappy,” you mumble. a soft smile graces his lips.

“shut up,” he mutters, quiet and sweet.

yeah, you think. we’ll be okay.

when you wake up, the sun is shining and you feel well-rested and content.

you sigh happily and reach over to the other side of the bed, only to find it cold and out of use. you sit up to investigate and discover that atsumu is gone.

you sigh again, this time a little disappointed. he must’ve gone to work, you think. you get up.

while you’re making breakfast for yourself, you check your phone. you have a couple messages from some of your friends and family, to which you respond to, but none from your boyfriend. even as you refresh your inbox, nothing comes up.

he’s probably busy, you remind yourself. you finish cooking and sit down to eat, alone.

today seems like a good day to just relax and let yourself breathe for a moment. you lounge around on the couch and watch some movies and take a nice, warm bubble bath. you waste the day away as you wait around for atsumu to come home, hoping maybe the two of you can go out for dinner tonight!

when he finally comes home, he lets out a tired groan and sits down on the couch after kissing you quickly on the cheek.

“i’m starving, babe. what’s for dinner?” he asks you, eyes closed.

you stand in front of him. “well, i actually didn’t make dinner tonight,” you respond. he opens his eyes and furrows his brows at you.

“...i thought i told you that i needed you to make dinner tonight,” he notes. “i texted you earlier.”

confused at his apparent annoyance, you try again. “well, i was hoping we could go out tonight. it’s been a long time since we ever—”

“y/n, i’m tired, okay? i had a long day and you’re not helping at all. i mean, you don’t make dinner, and now you’re asking me for more when it’s clear that i don’t have the energy,” he argues, irritated. you step back.

did he...? you ask yourself. there’s no way...

but now he’s just ignoring you, and it finally sinks in. he forgot.

you sigh sadly and retreat into your bedroom, hoping to just call it a night. you don’t want to spend your birthday arguing with your boyfriend.

atsumu gets up and walks into the kitchen, looking for a quick dinner. he opens the pantry to see new products that you must have gotten from the store. he looks over them, eye catching on a box of chocolate pocky.

the snack reminds him of a happy memory he shared with you just last year. it was your birthday, and he took you on a picnic and you shared the box, fighting over who got the last one, and instead just breaking it in half and having to share it.

atsumu thinks back to that day fondly, grinning softly at the memory. maybe this year we can do it again, he jokes to himself. and then he pauses.

...

.....

.........

...fuck.

he pulls out his phone frantically and swipes open the calendar, flipping to the correct month and staring at it obsessively.

and there it is; the reminder he set for your birthday, adorned with emojis and bolded brightly. his heart stops.

his eyes grow wide and he puts his phone down, panic slowly rising in his gut and making it hard to breathe.

“how could i have...” he whispers to himself.

then atsumu remembers how you asked him to go out with you to dinner and all he did was berate you for not being good enough. the way you seemed dejected as you took his words and left, leaving him alone in his head. he’s supposed to be your boyfriend, and he couldn’t even remember your birthday. he’s just been neglecting you.

desperate to make things right, he bursts into the bedroom to see you getting into bed. at his presence, your shoulders droop, and you sigh.

“‘tsumu, i don’t wanna fight, okay?” you ask, exhausted. his heart sinks even further. that’s what you think he wants to do?

he approaches you guiltily, and you look up at him, confused. he stares at you for a second before pulling you up by your hands and wrapping his arms around you ever so tightly.

you exhale, his touch so comforting that you just want to melt. it’s been so long since he held you.

“i’m so sorry,” he mutters, voice shaky with honesty. “i’m sorry that i missed your birthday and i’m sorry that i haven’t been a boyfriend and that you’ve been alone and i haven’t even realized.”

you freeze, astounded.

your eyes begin to fill up with tears and you dig your face into his chest to hide them away.

“i know i don’t deserve it, but please forgive me? i just wanna make it up to you, ‘kay?” he pleads, desperate.

in response, you nod into his chest. to be honest, you don’t really care all that much about your birthday, but now you that you’re in atsumu’s arms, you really can’t think about anything at all.

but he’s here now, and that’s the best gift you could have asked for.

suna

you and suna had always had an interesting dynamic

he was often distant and seemed unfeeling, while sometimes you grew needy and clingy

you complimented each other

but lately the differences between you led to distance, and all you wanted was for your boyfriend to spend some time with you

because even with those differences, you loved him more than anything

your birthday was approaching, and you were relieved that you finally had a day just for you and him

you yawn, rubbing your eyes gently, and breathe in the soft morning air. today is your birthday!

you don’t see suna next to you, so you venture out into the living room. he’s not in there either. you check the kitchen and come up empty.

he must have left, you say to yourself, sighing. honestly, you had hoped for a whole day just for the two of you, but you supposed you’ll have to take just a few hours.

you check your phone to see if he’s left anything, but you see nothing. it’s not like you had expected anything, but it still stings just a bit.

so you spend the day having a little time to yourself, treating yourself to some snacks and doing some shopping. when you come home it’s early in the evening, so you start preparing dinner.

you wait for him to come home so that the two of you can have dinner together, lounging on the couch as you wait.

7:00 rolls around and you continue to wait. he doesn’t come home.

8:00 is here, and he’s still not home. the food is getting cold.

when 9:00 approaches and he’s still not home, you wonder where he is, irritation and disappointment filling your gut. you send him a message, to which he doesn’t respond.

it’s almost midnight when he comes home, and you get up, arms crossed in front of you, frustration coloring your features.

“where have you been? i’ve been waiting for you all day,” you ask. he just looks at you tiredly, as if he’s the one who should be disappointed, and sighs.

“it’s been a long day, okay?” he murmurs, and you scoff.

“you could’ve responded to my texts, at least.”

“i didn’t have time, okay? can you not be mad at me for two seconds, please?”

you stare at him, baffled. how does he have the audacity to—

“besides, not everything is about you, y/n. you have no idea the day that i had, so stop making today about you, okay?”

at that, your heart sinks, and realization hits you like a truck.

he... he didn’t even remember.

even while the two of you have had disconnects at some points in your relationship, he’s always taken the time to remember these dates and celebrate them with you. but now he doesn’t even remember.

anger starts to creep in, and you can feel it in your blood.

“fuck you, rin,” you mutter, and exit, slamming the door to your bedroom behind you. you press your back against the door and huff angrily.

at first, you just want to yell. but the more you stand there, the more you just want to lie down and cry. because the thought that your own boyfriend doesn’t even care about you enough to remember your birthday hurts far more.

outside the door, suna stares at the space where you left, confused. he doesn’t understand why you’re so upset with him.

he takes out his phone, hoping to text you and ask you to come back out so he can talk to you. he clicks on your contact and scrolls through it, looking for the message button. it shows your phone number, your emails, your birthday, your address...

suna pauses.

he scrolls back up.

your birthday.

oh no, he thinks, beginning to panic. oh god, what did i do?

and sure enough, the date is resting there on his phone, and his panic is confirmed.

today is your birthday. and he completely forgot.

and on top of that, he called you selfish for wanting the day for the two of you. he sees that you’ve left a plate of food out on the table for him and one for you too, and his chest aches painfully. you waited for him. and he didn’t show up.

when he gently pushes the door open, his heart breaks even further.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around your pillow, crying softly. you hadn’t been this way when he saw you last, and the idea that he made you feel like this hurts terribly.

“...baby?” he calls softly. you gasp, startled by his sudden appearance, and attempt to stifle your sobs. it’s too late though; he’s already heard you. he comes over to your side of the bed, getting on his knees so that he’s eye level with you. you shut your eyes to avoid his gaze, and he sighs.

“please look at me?” he pleads, and you open your eyes reluctantly. they’re puffy and teary, and suna feels even more guilty than before.

“i haven’t been taking care of you and our relationship very well,” he starts. “i got so caught up in everything and i just got so distant and—” he exhales. “i completely forgot about today. and i’m so, so sorry, y/n. you have every right to be upset, and i’m so disappointed in myself for neglecting you.”

he cups your cheek gently, wiping away the tears there and kissing you sweetly.

“please let me make it up to you. okay?” he asks against your lips. he feels them curve up slightly, and sighs in relief.

“okay,” you whisper.

suna climbs up onto the bed and pulls you into him. you snuggle into his chest and he kisses your hair.

“goodnight, baby.”

“goodnight.”

ushijima

your boyfriend has always loved volleyball more than anything

and you’ve always loved this about him

but it’s often leads to lonely days and meals eaten alone

you know it’s part of the compromise he must make, but you still miss him

however, with your birthday coming up, you think maybe now’s your chance to spend some time with him💓

today is your birthday, and you’re looking forward to what the day has in store for you!

toshi had left before you’d gotten up as per usual, but instead of waiting for him to come home, you decide you’ll visit him at practice today. you figure he’ll want to see you; it is a special day after all!

so you get up and walk into the kitchen, beginning the preparation of his lunch. you put together some rice and meat in a segment of the bento, adding an omelet to another and some salad in the other compartment. you pack some dressing in a tiny container and some miso soup in an insulated jar, packing everything up neatly. you look at it proudly.

you make your way over to the gym, excited to see your boyfriend. when you get there, the boys are in a practice match, so you sit on the bleachers to watch.

when ushijima finally spots you during his break, his eyebrows furrow, and he walks over to you.

“hi, toshi!”

“y/n, why are you here?”

you pause at his bluntness. he doesn’t seem very happy to see you.

“oh. uh, i made you lunch! i figured you might be hungry,” you reply, getting a little nervous. does he not want me here?

“y/n, you shouldn’t be here right now. it’s unprofessional.”

your heart sinks.

“but i just thought, since today is—”

“you really should just go home, y/n. i will see you later,” he mutters, his dismissal obvious. you look behind him to see a few of his teammates eyeing you pitifully. and now it’s clear to you:

he doesn’t even know it’s your birthday.

you sigh, hurt. you pick up the lunch you made him and leave silently, humiliation and disappointment swirling in your stomach, making you nauseous.

when you get home, you just put the bento in the fridge and walk into your bedroom. it doesn’t seem worth it to do anything else today. so you lay down, drifting into sleep by the comfort of your own arms, missing his.

—

hoshiumi stares at wakatoshi as you leave. toshi senses his eyes on him and looks back at him, confused.

“why’d you send y/n away?” kourai asks, curious.

“oh. i figured i’d see them later. besides, we have practice,” toshi answers.

“but,” hoshiumi continues. “don’t you wanna spend some time with them today?”

toshi looks down at him, brows furrowed in a question.

“i mean, it’s their birthday today, right?” he clarifies.

ushijima stares at his teammate.

“it is?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically cautious and quiet, almost shy.

hoshiumi’s eyes widen.

“tell me you didn’t...”

“i didn’t know. i must have forgotten,” toshi mumbles, eyes glued to the floor shamefully.

he didn’t mean to forget, really. but the thought completely slipped his mind somewhere and now...

you’re gone, because he sent you away, and you’d just wanted some time with your boyfriend. you brought him food and company and he turned you away.

there’s an unfamiliar sting in his chest as he recalls the way he’s been treating you; the way he never sees you and how you’ve been spending so many hours alone in your shared apartment. and now you’re alone on your birthday because he forgot.

wakatoshi doesn’t know exactly how, but he knows he needs to make it up to you.

—

when you wake up, an delicious aroma fills your senses, and you get up to investigate.

as you walk into the kitchen, your heart swells.

your boyfriend is at the stove, making a meal for the two of you. for the first time in a long time, he’s home for dinner. what he’s making smells amazing and your eyes fill up with tears at the sight of him here.

he finally notices you’re awake and walks over to you. he wraps you up in a hug, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your hair. “i’m sorry for forgetting about your birthday. and for constantly leaving you alone. i want to make you feel better, okay?” he asks, pulling you off him gently to look into your eyes. his own widen in alarm at seeing you tear up. “did i do something wrong?” he mutters, self-consciousness leaking into his tone. you laugh, the sound shaky.

“no, baby,” you reassure him. “i’m just happy you’re here, that’s all.”

he sighs, relieved, and kisses you gently.

“me too.”

the next day, kenma wakes up feeling a lot better than he did yesterday, despite having fallen asleep at his gaming desk.

for once, he’s actually hungry, since he refused your dinner last night. he feels a little bad about what he said to you, but you probably know that he didn’t mean it. sometimes he gets in these moods, and you know them better than anyone.

he gets up and goes to the kitchen to see what you’ve made for the both of you. surprisingly, you’re not in there, like you would usually be, and there’s no delicious aroma or evidence of use at all. maybe they left it in the fridge? he thinks. but the refrigerator is empty, too.

now that he thinks about it, the apartment is a little more out of shape than usual. some of his clothes lay wrinkled on chairs and his mangas are scattered where he left them, instead of in his work room where you always put them. strange, he thinks.

he sees you on the couch and brightens. he’s missed you, and he wants to ask you if you’d like to do something together today. it’s been so long since he’s been able to just be with you.

but when he approaches you, you just smile at him and get up, retreating into your room and closing the door. he stands there, confused.

he doesn’t understand why you’re acting so strange today.

but on your end..

his words from yesterday stung. you really loved to care for your boyfriend; it was one of your favorite ways to show him you loved him. but he didn’t see it that way, because he expressed that he felt smothered; that he could take care of himself. so you’ve decided to back off a little bit.

kenma is working in his room when he hears the door open. he sits, up, setting down his controller and waiting for you to settle on his lap like usual and cuddle him for a little while he plays. but instead, you creep in warily, like you don’t know if you’re allowed to be there. you see his eyes on you and freeze before slipping back out like you were never in there to begin with.

“y/n, wait—”

you’re already gone though, and now kenma’s actually concerned. he gets up and ventures out into the bedroom, where you’re huddled up on the bed. he sits down next to you and attempts to pull you in, which you refuse.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he whispers. “why are you being so distant today?”

there’s tears in your eyes, and you’re attempting to smile for him, but it just looks wobbly and wrong.

“isn’t that what you wanted?” you ask shakily. “y-you said i was smothering you, so i just thought—”

he cuts you off with a kiss, pulling you in sweetly and firmly, and you sigh.

“i’m sorry for lashing out at you last night,” he apologizes. “i didn’t mean anything i said to you, okay?”

you look up at him with teary eyes.

“i love the way you do things for me and tell me about your day and cuddle with me. i know i’m absolute shit at expressing it, but i really like it when you take care of me.”

he nuzzles your nose with his, pressing short and sweet kisses on your lips between sentences.

“so what you’re saying is.. cuddles?” you ask, hopeful. he stares at you, golden eyes half-lidded contentedly.

“whatever you want.”

osamu

you love everything about your relationship with miya osamu

the dates, the food (oh my GOD the food), the everything

but more than anything, you LOVE cuddling with him

he’s always warm and soft and snuggly

but yesterday, you and osamu got in a fight

you argued that he was spending so much time managing the restaurant that he was forgetting about you

he thought you were being absolutely ridiculous

“y/n, you’re overreacting. stop being over dramatic.”

“over dramatic? is that what this is? okay, sorry for wanting to have a moment alone with my fucking boyfriend!”

“it’s not my fault that you’re so fucking clingy?! don’t put this on ME. always forcing your dumb affection on me when it’s CLEAR that i don’t want you to!”

ouch😐

even after the both of you apologized and called it quits, you thought about it all night

maybe he was right

you went to bed and drifted into a fitful sleep

today is osamu’s day off, and he’s looking forward to having a day to relax with you.

after the fight the two of you had, he’s just happy to have the whole day to make up and spend some time together.

when he wakes up with you next to him, he nudges at you affectionately. you’re already half awake, and you smile back at him. he waits for you to take the cue and snuggle into his side like usual, so that the two of you can continue resting together, but you turn around on your side. he frowns.

later in the day, you’re watching a movie, and he tugs at your sweatshirt, hoping you’ll settle into his lap and give him some kisses. instead, you sit next to him, a little bit of space between you, and don’t look at him again.

then, the both of you are making dinner, and he comes up behind you, to which you dodge him skillfully. he almost whines; desperate for some affection. you’re not giving him anything today, and he’s getting touch-starved.

“baby, is something wrong?” you ask at his frown.

he shakes his head and continues chopping vegetables.

the two of you have gotten ready for bed and are laying under the covers when he crawls over to you and lays his arm over your torso. you push him off gently, only for him to put it on you again. you sigh.

“babe—”

“why won’t you let me cuddle you today?”

honestly, you want nothing more than for him to cuddle you all day, holding you in his arms. but clearly it’s annoying, and you’d like to avoid fights like the one you had last night at all costs.

“last night.. you mentioned that i force my affection on you. and i realized that you were right. and i’m just working on it, okay?” you look away.

osamu’s heart sinks. you’re still on this? he thought he’d made it clear that he truly didn’t mean anything he said during the fight, but he realizes that insecurities don’t just go away.

“baby..” he whispers, pulling you into his lap. you won’t look at him. “look at me.” you shake your head, so he brings your chin up with his hand.

“you don’t ‘force’ your affection on me, okay? i love how affectionate you are with me. i like that you can feel safe in my arms and that you like being close to me all the time. it’s the way you express your love for me, and i think it’s perfect.”

tears well up in your eyes, so you bury your face in his chest to hide it.

“i love you so much, ‘samu,” you whisper, sniffling.

he smiles softly down at you, and pulls you in even closer, flush against him.

“and i love you.”

suna

suna is a very lowkey, chill person

this applies to basically everything in his life

but when he gets angry it’s very easy for him to lash out

yesterday, suna had a terrible day

he was just getting irritated by everyone and while he wanted to come home and rest, he didn’t want to deal with your questions

but you didn’t know about how his day went, so you asked him questions anyway, hoping to find out how he was feeling and if he needed anything

but his annoyance was growing, and you weren’t picking up on it

you laid a hand on his arm, and that’s when he finally lost it

he shoved your hand away, irritated

“can’t you just leave me alone? i don’t want to talk to you right now, and you being clingy isn’t helping.”

you reeled back, stung, but decided you’d leave him alone

you slept on the couch, afraid to upset him even more

suna wakes up to the sun filtering through the blinds, and slides a hand over to your side of the bed, expecting to find you lying next to him, but comes up empty. he frowns, missing your warmth.

he gets up and moves to the living room, finding you lying on the couch. he nudges you gently to wake you up.

“good morning, baby,” he whispers against your lips, and you don’t even smile at that, just grabbing your blanket and relocating to the bedroom. he’s confused by your mood, and follows you back into the bedroom.

“you wanna cuddle?” he offers, slipping into the bed next to you, only for you to hmph petulantly, rolling over on your side, away from him.

that’s weird, suna thinks. y/n almost never refuses my cuddles.

you do wake up later, seeing rintarou in the kitchen, and take out a snack from the pantry, ignoring his own offers to make you food.

it’s not that you’re mad at him, because you’re really not, but you’re still a little hurt at how he treated you last night. you know he was just having a bad day, but now you don’t want to receive his affection, scared to come off as annoying again.

“baby, are you mad at me?” he asks when the two of you are in bed. you shake your head, eyes still glued to your book.

rintarou tries again to cuddle you, but you push him away again. he sighs, unsure why you’re acting this way. he takes your book and closes it, inciting a reaction from you.

“hey, you didn’t even bookmark—”

you stop short at seeing his gaze locked on you and shrink back.

“then why aren’t you being affectionate with me?”

you sigh, not wanting to get into this now.

you do anyway.

“you called me annoying, rin. excuse me for not wanting to be affectionate when apparently that behavior is irritating,” you mumble.

suna stops short. annoying? how could you have ever been— oh.

suna had completely forgotten about last night. he never apologized for lashing out at you.

ignoring your protests, rintarou pulls you into his chest and noses at your hair.

“‘m sorry,” he mutters into your hair, breathing you in and basking in your warmth. you still, and he pulls you close. “i’m sorry for calling you those things, okay? please don’t stop being affectionate with me; i miss it,” he admits, and you finally look up at him.

“i’m not annoying?” you ask, voice tiny.

“no, baby. i love your cuddles and your kisses and how adorable you are when you’re sleepy. i just love you.”

you’re speechless at his honesty, so you just nuzzle at his collarbone and breathe his scent in instead.

“you know, you acted like a child today,” he teases.

“shut up and cuddle me.”

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 # 𝟏𝟎 𝑹𝑰𝑵 𝑰𝑻𝑶𝑺𝑯𝑰; who comes home from practice looking the same as always, a little tired and quiet, closing the door behind him like it’s just another normal day, until he sees you and immediately notices something in your expression that makes him stop mid-step without even realizing it.

when you tell him the news, going completely silent as he stares at you for a long moment, his face not changing much but his eyes clearly shifting as he processes it slowly like his mind is trying to catch up before his emotions can show.

he then would quietly asks if you’re serious in a low, blunt voice, not because he doubts you but because he needs confirmation before he reacts, and when you nod he just stares a little longer, like he’s replaying your words in his head to make sure he didn’t misunderstand anything.

he looks away for a second after hearing your confirmation, jaw tightening slightly as he thinks, because even though he doesn’t show big reactions, the idea of it clearly hits him harder than expected and he needs a moment to steady himself before speaking again.

he steps closer without saying much and just stands in front of you, his hand slowly reaching for yours in a stiff but careful way, like he’s not used to being gentle with his emotions but is still choosing to be close anyway.

he then quietly mutters something like “don’t overdo it” or “take care of yourself,” in that rough tone of his, but it comes out softer than he probably intended, especially since he doesn’t pull away and instead keeps holding your hand a little longer than usual.

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 # 𝟏𝟎 𝑴𝑰𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳 𝑲𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑹; who walks into the apartment like he owns the air itself, still in that confident, teasing mood from training, expecting to see you smile at him like usual, only to stop when he notices your expression isn’t matching his energy at all and something about the silence makes him go still for a second.

he would tilt his head slightly when you tell him, letting you finish without interrupting, but his eyes sharpen in that slow, dangerous way like he’s replaying your words in his mind while still keeping a calm, almost amused face on the outside.

he suddenly smiles a little after a beat of silence, not loud or playful like usual, but softer and more controlled, as he steps closer and says something like “you’re really telling me that now…?” in a low voice that sounds half surprised and half intrigued.

he then looks at you for a long moment after confirmation, then lets out a quiet breath like he’s deciding something internally, because even though he acts casual, the idea clearly hits him in a way he didn’t expect and he doesn’t like how real it suddenly feels.

then reaches out and gently lifts your chin like he’s still teasing, but his touch is more careful than his words, and he says something like “you should’ve told me sooner, liebling,” like he’s trying to stay in control of the moment even though it clearly caught him off guard.

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 # 𝟖 𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑨 𝑴𝑬𝑮𝑼𝑹𝑼; who notices something is off about you the whole day, the way you’re quieter than usual and avoiding his eyes, and instead of teasing you like he normally would he just follows that feeling in his chest until he ends up outside the bathroom door, hesitating for a second before gently knocking and asking if you’re okay in a softer voice than usual.

he opens the door carefully when you don’t answer, stepping inside slowly like he doesn’t want to scare you, and immediately freezes when he sees you holding the pregnancy test in trembling hands, his usual playful expression disappearing in an instant as his eyes widen and his whole body goes still.

he stares for a second too long like he’s trying to understand what he’s seeing, then slowly walks closer without his usual energy, his voice coming out quieter when he asks if that means what he thinks it means, because for once he’s not joking or smiling—he’s actually trying to process something real and heavy.

then he notices your hands shaking and immediately softens, carefully crouching down in front of you so he’s at your level, his tone turning gentle as he asks if you’re scared or if you’re okay, because even though he’s surprised his first instinct is still you and how you’re feeling.

bachira slowly reaches out like he’s afraid you might disappear if he moves too fast, lightly holding your wrist or hand while looking at the test again like it still doesn’t feel real, and then letting out a small breath as his expression starts to shift into something warmer and overwhelmed.

he suddenly smiles a little through the shock, not his usual loud grin but something softer and shaky like he can’t hold it back, and he says something like “so… we made a tiny me and you?” in a whisper like he’s testing the reality out loud.

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 # 𝟏𝟑 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑼 𝑹𝒀𝑼𝑺𝑬𝑰; who laughs it off when you try to tell him something serious, leaning back like it’s just another dramatic moment and saying something careless like he’s not worried about “some little test” while still not fully looking at your face, acting like nothing could really shake him in that moment.

he slowly starts to realize something is wrong when your voice breaks and you stop trying to argue back, his expression shifting for the first time when he notices you’re not angry anymore—you’re upset, and it’s not playful at all, which makes him go quiet mid-sentence like his brain finally catches up that this isn’t a joke to you.

shidou freezes completely when you start crying and say you’re scared he won’t be ready because of his career, because for once he doesn’t have a quick response, just a blank stare as he processes that you’re not doubting him—you’re doubting what this means for both of you, and that hits harder than anything he expected.

he suddenly drops his usual attitude and steps closer, his voice lower than normal when he says your name, like he’s trying to pull you back to him, and even though he still looks rough around the edges his focus is fully on you now instead of anything else.

then he awkwardly but firmly pulls you into him, one arm wrapping around you like it’s instinct even if he doesn’t know how to say anything soft yet, just holding you there while you cry because he realizes you thought he wouldn’t take responsibility for something this important.

shidou mutters something blunt but serious like “don’t decide that for me,” because even if he doesn’t express it gently, the idea of you thinking he’d run away from you or from the baby clearly bothers him more than he wants to admit.

he slowly calms down as he listens instead of reacting, actually letting you talk this time, and while his expression is still intense, his voice gets steadier when he says he doesn’t care about his career more than what’s happening between you two right now.

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 # 𝟏𝟗 𝑩𝑼𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑰𝑮𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑨𝑺; bunny who comes home earlier than expected from practice, opening the door quietly like normal, only to pause when he hears the bathroom door slightly open and sees you sitting there staring at something in your hands like the whole world just got too loud for you.

he slowly steps closer, voice soft when he calls your name, and instead of panic there’s this quiet shift in his expression like he’s trying to understand it fully before reacting, his eyes moving between your face and the test.

he looks at the test again when you nod or confirm it, and then suddenly his face breaks into the most real, surprised smile like it hits him all at once and he lets out a small breath like he didn’t realize he was holding it.

then he starts laughing a little under his breath—not teasing, just overwhelmed happiness—before pulling you into a careful but tight hug, like he can’t decide if he wants to hold you or lift you off the ground because he’s so caught up in the moment.

bunny keeps repeating soft “really?” and “we’re having a baby?” in a warm voice against your shoulder, like he needs to keep saying it out loud because it doesn’t feel real yet in the best way.

he pulls back just enough to look at you with the biggest soft smile, eyes bright as he gently wipes your tears if you’re crying, except now he’s smiling too, like your fear turned into something shared and beautiful.

you stumbled back, quickly retracting your hand and clutching it to your chest. you stared at his back with wide tear-filled eyes in disbelief. you breathed a small "what?" at a loss for words.

kuroo's eyes widened in realization as he quickly turned to you. it was your turn to hide your face away, not wanting him to see the fresh warm tears that stained your cheeks.

he opened his mouth to say something that could mend the situation but he came up with nothing. mentally, he was cussing himself for even bringing that up just so that he could justify his actions, or in this case lack thereof.

"your ex never asked for attention because she was getting that from other people behind your back," you mumbled monotonously, fists clenched. your voice wavered but words cut through just as sharp. "if you'd rather have that than deal with me, you're free to go."

of course you didn't want him to leave, but he was out of line for even comparing you to someone you both knew hurt him terribly.

he tried to take a step closer to you. his heart sunk at the way you ever so slightly shuffled away from him.

"hey, i know i'm sorry. i just- i said it to make myself feel better. i was wrong," he pleaded, voice now softer.

you let out a tired sigh, quietly making your way into your bedroom. he trailed behind you like a lost puppy. he was praying for you to say something– cuss him out, shout in frustration, anything. the silence was unbearable.

"i'm really sorry. i... i didn't mean it," he tried again.

"i know. i'm just tired and really hurt."

you quickly washed up but he could hear your quiet sniffles through the door. he sat by the edge of the bed, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he racked his brain on how he could make up for what he said. though when you finally walked out of the bathroom with such empty eyes, he's at a loss for words once more.

you couldn't even spare him a glance as you wordlessly crawled under the sheets, nearly falling off the bed as you tried to scoot away from him as far as your bed allowed.

you tensed up as you felt him hastily wrap his arms around you and rest his head against your back. tears started to stain your pillow even after you thought you've cried your eyes out enough earlier.

"i'm sorry, love. please let me make it up to you." you could hear the trembling in his voice and your heart ached for him too, despite the situation.

"do you... still think of her? am i overbearing?" you choked back a sob.

he tightened his grip, shaking his head vigorously. "no, no, not at all! i know i was being lazy and i wasn't putting in enough effort but i was too much of a coward to admit it."

you turned to face him. "so the next best thing was to compare me to your ex?" you scoffed bitterly.

he was stricken with guilt as his eyes brimmed with tears, suddenly feeling small under your gaze. "i know, i was so wrong for that but please let me make it up to you. i'll do better. i love you so much."

he buried his face into your hair and only sobbed harder when you finally wrap your arms around his shaking figure.

"i love you too, tetsu but i'm still upset. let's just talk about this in the morning okay?"

he nodded, whispering a chorus of thank yous and i'm sorrys.

miya atsumu

idk why atsumu is always portrayed as a womanizer in fics. i don't think he's all that interested in a lot of girls as he's preoccupied with volleyball.

which is why it came as a surprise when atsumu started dating. who knew he could commit to something other than his favorite sport? he still wasn't fond of overbearing fan girls though. sometimes you wondered if he saw you on the same level as them– a nuisance to him.

"i thought you said you'd understood the demands of my job before we started dating," he spat, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

"i do! but extended training hours and weekend practices aren't your job's demands, atsumu. that's just you wanting to spend every waking moment playing but you have a life outside of volleyball," you argued back, nearly pulling your hair out of frustration.

you've been at it for hours and it felt like talking to a wall. it wasn't like you wanted him to quit, you just asked him not to spend so much of his free time training when he was barely spending time with you.

"by life you mean you, right? what you want my world to revolve around you, is that it?" he scoffed in annoyance.

you let out a groan. it was almost as if he was purposely pissing you off. he kept cherry picking at your words only to use it against you.

"are you even listening or do you just hear the words you want to hear? that's not what i was asking for. at all!"

he stubbornly turned his head to the side to avoid looking at you. without thinking, he grumbled, "this is why i hated dating. no wonder akira's the only relationship i had that lasted."

there was a deafening silence that followed as you stood there, mouth hanging open.

"what did you just say?"

as he slowly turned to look at you, the weight of his words started sinking in. anger and annoyance was quickly overcome with guilt, especially when he saw your tear-stricken face.

"i didn't–"

"if you hate dating so much go ahead and break up with me already you you asshole! i'm tired of being the only one in this relationship." you stomped out the living room and into your bedroom. you snatched the nearest bag you could and started stuffing it with clothes.

"what are you doing?" he asked, panicking even as he tried to steady his voice. "hey, slow down. let's talk about this okay?" atsumu tried to seize your hands to stop you from leaving.

you yanked your hands back and shoved your overnight bag onto the floor. "i have been trying to talk to you for the past hour, atsumu! why is it you only wanna listen now?" you sobbed, unable to keep your tears at bay any longer.

he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, mumbling, "i didn't mean what i said back there. i'm sorry."

you sat to bury your face into your palms as the exhaustion of the night caught up to you. you were tired, emotionally and physically. "i try so hard not to be a bother to you," you whispered, voice small and strained.

atsumu's heart sunk at your state. he hated himself for being the one to cause it. he bent down and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. you were still mad but didn't have it in you to fight him for it.

"you're not a bother, angel. i was being a dick. i wasn't trying to understand you. i'm sorry." he stroked your hair gently, nervously waiting for a reply.

after several minutes of silence, you finally croaked out, "if you think this relationship isn't going anywhere then what even is the point?" your eyes were dull and lifeless as you pushed yourself off him.

panicked at your words, tears started to prick his eyes. he shook his head vigorously. "n-no i don't want to break up! i just- i said it to piss you off. i didn't mean it, baby please..."

he stared at your eyes intently for some kind of sign that you haven't completely given up on him, but you were too tired and hurt to sympathize with him at the moment. the panic in his chest grew larger by the second.

"i'll take a leave. i'll spend more time with you, i promise. please give me another chance. i really didn't mean it like that. i love you, only you. i... really don't want to break up," he rambled.

sighing, you finally gave in– not that you forgave him that instant. he did promise to make it better after all. "fine, i just- i need time to think, okay? i'm spending the night at my friend's house."

he gently grabbed your hand, stopping you from grabbing your bag again. "you don't have to go. i can sleep on the couch if you want, or stay at bokuto's," he mumbled in between little sniffles.

You hadn't gone into this expecting Hajime to become your boyfriend at all, actually. You liked him. Liked how easy it was to be with him. How warm he was when you let your touch linger on him and pretended it was more than a flirty friendship. You hadn't ever predicted it would become so, because Hajime was hung up on his ex-girlfriend.

They'd traveled over oceans to be together, coming to Irvine from the same prefecture in Japan. They had still been together when you met him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around her waist. Your first thought was "oh, he's beautiful." Your second thought was "they look like they're made for each other." You shoved the first thought deep inside a secret crevice of your brain and stuck out your hand to introduce yourself with a bright smile.

The strain of new adulthood got to them, though, or so you assumed: you were never privy to the gory details of the breakup. They remained friendly, in the same friend group, and it just always seemed obvious to you that they would someday reconcile. It wasn't until two years after their break that you were able to start showing regular, platonic affection to Hajime without feeling like an attempted homewrecker.

It was just before graduation, having dragged him away for a late-night bite to eat so neither of you would starve to death studying for finals, when everything flipped on its head. Your plan to energize the both of you had backfired; you were yawning every other sentence and came close to laying your head on the table before Hajime put his palm down in front of your face.

"Come sit next to me," he'd said, so you maneuvered around into his side of the booth and been promptly pulled into his side. You had looked up at him, murmuring a sleepy question that was more wordless noise than actual English, and that was it. Something you didn't understand softened his gaze, and then he tilted his head to the side and brushed his lips over yours.

It was a perfect first kiss.

In the weeks following it, you had bounced violently between insisting to yourself that he hadn't meant for you to read too far into the kiss and your natural instinct to go after what your heart wanted. And the more he proved that it wasn't a one-off anomaly, that he could kiss you right out of drought into a superbloom, the more you were convinced. Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart.

When Hajime asked you to be official, wildflower bouquet in hand, the lights of the now-empty graduation pavilion shining down on the both of you, you said yes, your whole heart and none of your brain in the matter.

As you entered your apartment hand-in-hand with him, greeting all the friends who had gathered there to celebrate the end of undergraduate school, you remembered that the key modifier in "Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart" was knowingly. He seemed happy enough announcing the development to everyone else, and then she had walked in, carrying a bottle of wine that almost slipped from her grasp when she saw your proximity. He had dropped your hand—just for a second, but it had happened, and then picked it back up like his sentence hadn't died in his mouth at the sight of her.

He'd always gotten a little defensive when people mentioned their relationship, his features shutting down into a blank, tight expression. Though they obviously weren't as close as they had been for most of their lives, they were still both part of your friend group, and he always seemed to laugh just a little harder at her jokes, kept eye contact a little longer, got embarrassed more easily around her. You didn't want to be jealous or insecure or possessive, but it just felt more increasingly obvious that you were a rebound, a cheap, temporary dupe meant to fill in until Hajime realized and returned to the love of his life.

It was hard to be angry at him, though, because you knew with every fiber of your bleeding heart that he wouldn't do this to you on purpose. You knew he thought he cared for you, that he thought he had moved on. He did a good job almost every day coming very close to persuading you of it, enough to keep you from breaking up with him and leaving him behind, but never quite erasing your insecurities for more than a few weeks at a time.

One of the first mornings you woke up in his bed, well rested and sore in all the right places, he was missing. You got up, mourning the softness of his sheets and the scent of him on the pillowcases, and slipped into one of his shirts before leaving his room to explore.

He was cooking, shirtless in the kitchen, and if that wasn't one of the yummiest things you had seen in your life.

"Good morning," you said, leaning against his counter.

"Very," he returned, flipping an egg in the pan. "Looking like that. I think—I mean, it seems like that shirt always gets chosen to be the boyfriend shirt." He had narrowly avoided saying her name, but you had heard it threatening to tumble out of his mouth. You bit back a response, but your smile still dropped, and he spent the next hour making allusive, sorry overtures without either of you actually acknowledging the slip.

You never wore that shirt again. He gave you another one, you accepted it, and life moved on.

Except you had somehow become mired in the past with a relationship that was long over, and without university or a job to distract you—you were starting at the end of September, which felt aeons away—it was eating you alive, especially as Hajime left for a preliminary return trip to Japan.

"Did you hear how Mattsun and Makki greeted him when he landed?" You sit in the car on the way to the airport, packed in with Hajime's ex, successfully hyping yourself up to see him again until she addressed the group.

"Oh, yeah," you laugh. "So funny." You haven't had a conversation with Hajime that had more depth than "how are u? miss u" for the trip's duration. She's your friend, too, though you've never been close, but there's something unbearable about admitting it to her now, when you're so unsure of your relationship's current status. It has to mean something that he was keeping her updated and active in his life, didn't it?

You find solace in knowing that you don't blame her at all. If you could find an ounce of resentment for her in your heart, you would probably have left Hajime by now—isn't that the mark of a truly evil plot-pushing girlfriend?

You cry when you see him again.

"Happy tears," you assure him, and hide your face in his shoulder.

Later, alone in his apartment, you bite your lip when Hajime asks if you want to sleep over.

"Okay, babe, I don't want to pressure you," he says, and you can feel yourself tensing up as he speaks. "But I feel like you've been—off all day. Is everything okay?"

You blanch and focus on the cowlick on the right side of his head, the one that's endeared him so much to you, so you don't have to look him in the eyes. Too much is bubbling up in your throat, your brain thrown into overdrive, and he's staring at you with so much worry in his eyes it's just not right to leave him hanging:

"No."

Hajime makes a noise you don't understand, low in his throat. "Is it because I didn't call enough while I was gone? Because I can explain that, I promise."

"No," you rush to explain. "I don't—it wasn't you, exactly. I've just—ever since we started dating—I think you still love her."

You're picking at your nails, a bad habit you've had since you were small, and he takes your hands in his, smooths his thumbs over the torn cuticles.

"I don't," he says, finally, neutrally, though his face hasn't formed into the cold mask you're used to seeing when she's brought up. "Ever since we started dating?"

"Before," you admit. "I always thought you would get back together. You just seemed so made for each other."

"But we weren't," a little pucker between his eyebrows forms. "So—what did you think when we started dating?"

"When you first kissed me," you say, "I thought maybe it was a one-off. That you wanted something casual. And then it got more serious, and I thought maybe I could just suppress my insecurities until they went away, and I mean, I really thought you liked me."

"I do," his voice grows more agitated, his lips thinning out.

"Yeah, but..." You trail off. "You would do things that made me think, oh, he's just the perfect guy, they just looked so amazing because I was jealous, and then every so often I'd see you interact with her and it wasn't like how we are at all. I know the insecurity is my own fault, that's not on you, but I feel like it's holding both of us back."

"What do you mean holding us back? You don't think you make me happy?" He snaps, and you wince.

"Not like you are with her! Every time she comes in the room you get this look on your face, like you're speechless. Like-like the songs, Haji, I just..."

He lets go of your hands, crosses his arms.

"Do you really think I'd do that to you?"

"No, Haji, I know you'd never cheat. That's why I fell in love with you! You're a good guy, but I don't want you to wake up one day and break both our hearts because she's meant to be your girl and I'm just your fucking girlfriend." Your eyes sting, your chest heaving by the end of the sentence.

"You love me?" He's quieter now, giving you a little more space to breathe.

"What? That's not what I said."

"Yes, it is," he says, a little smile growing at the corners of his mouth, as though he can't control it. "You love me."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're focusing on that," you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. "It's true, I just don't get it."

"Because you make me happier than she ever did," he promises, crowding you up against the counter and motioning for you to jump up to sit on top of it after you can go no further. "I'm weird when she's around because she's my ex, sure, but not because I still want her. It... ended badly. It's a miracle we didn't pull the entire friend group into it, and I never wanted to make her look bad to them, so I'm always trying really hard to look, uh, normal around her. We're on better terms now, but I haven't wanted her in years, honey."

"She knew about what you were doing when I didn't," you mumble, feeling small in the stormy release of emotions. "And she knows so much about you I don't in general."

"We grew up together," Hajime reminds you. "It would have been one of the guys. I know I didn't tell her anything. You can check my call history, my texts."

You shake your head. "I believe you."

"Really?" He arches a brow, and you laugh and push gently at his shoulder.

"Yes, really."

"You know how long I had a crush on you before I did anything about it? I thought you weren't interested, and then you finally started being even more affectionate with me than you were with our other friends, and I took the chance."

"Rookie numbers," you preen under his gaze. "I liked you... pretty much as soon as I met you. But I suppressed it 'cause I didn't want to be a homewrecker."

"You're sweet," he chuckles. "I promise, you have nothing to worry about there. I'm never gonna wake up and not be grateful to see you drooling on my bed."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he looks at you fondly, swiping his thumbs under your lower lashes. "You love me, though."

"Oh," your lips part. "And the not calling in Japan?"

He scrunches his nose. "I was trying not to spoil anything. I wanted to, uh, discuss it with you first, but you should know my friends and family are all waiting to embarrass me if I have to turn everything around now."

"Okay? I'll consider your dignity, but I make no promises," you tease. He drops his head to your shoulder for a moment, taking a deep breath, and you wind a hand into his hair, petting him until he straightens.

"So, you know how I have that paid internship opportunity back home?" You nod, not wanting to be reminded. You'll do it for him, but... long distance sucks. "I went to their office and turned it down. I want to go through with my doctorate."

"Oh, that's huge!" You gasp. "That's incredible, I'm so happy for you!"

"So the part that has to do with you is, um," he says, "you're planning to stay here, right?"

"Yeah," you say, "my next step is like a twenty minute commute, thankfully."

"I want to finish my schooling in the States," he tells you, "and then after that, I want to go wherever you go."

"Hajime," you start, but he puts a shaking hand on your knee, and that shuts you up.

"I love you," he says seriously. "It's like I said, okay? You make me happier than anyone else. I know you're the one for me, if you'll have me. If not, I get—"