Summary: Sukuna is tired of seeing his favourite bartender upset over her bum ass boyfriend
The next few nights were busy. Not packed, but busy enough that you could lose yourself in the rhythm.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t busy enough to stop thinking about Sukuna. Every time the door swung open you were eager to look up; and even more disappointed when it wasn’t him.
“Think about it sweetheart.” You hated that those words had followed you. If you tried hard enough, you could still feel the warmth of his hand on yours.
The bell above the door chimed.
And there was your boyfriend, tipsy already, and it was barely 10pm.
A knot formed in your stomach.
“Hey babe,” he called loudly, stumbling slightly as he approached the bar.
Several customers glanced over. You forced a smile. “You’re drunk,” you whispered when he got closer.
No. The thought came before you could stop it.
“I told you I was working.”
“Yeah, yeah.” His arm landed heavily on the counter.
You tried to keep him quiet for a while, and not disturb the rest of the customers.
Then his eyes shifted and he froze.
Sukuna happened to walk in twenty minutes after him. He took a seat three stools away, waving at you as he sat down.
Your boyfriend straightened. “Who’s this?”
You closed your eyes briefly.
Sukuna calmly took a sip of the whiskey you just served him.
Nobody spoke. Nobody needed to.
“Oh.” Your boyfriend laughed humorlessly. “Oh, I get it.”
Your boyfriend pointed at him. “You’re the guy.”
“The guy?” Sukuna asked mildly.
“The guy trying to get with my girlfriend.”
Every muscle in your body tensed. “Stop. Please.”
Your boyfriend ignored you. “What, you think I haven’t noticed?”
Sukuna set his glass down slowly. “You’re making a scene.”
“You talking to my girl isn’t making a scene?”
“She’s working, I come here just for the booze buddy.”
You stepped forward. “Enough.”
But your boyfriend was already spiraling. The alcohol had taken control. “You think you’re better than me?”
Sukuna leaned back. “No.”
That somehow made him angrier. The bar had gone quiet, and customers were pretending not to stare.
Your face burned. Humiliation clawing at your skin.
“Come on then.” Your boyfriend stepped closer. “Let’s go outside.”
Sukuna sighed, like he was tired; like he didn’t feel threatened at all. “You’re drunk.”
“Says the guy sitting in a bar.”
“I’ve had one drink, unlike you.”
“No.” The answer was immediate. “And I’m not fighting you.”
Your boyfriend shoved the edge of the bar, his glass rattling. You were frozen in fear and embarrassment.
“Hey.” Your coworker immediately appeared beside you. “That’s enough.”
Your boyfriend barely acknowledged him.
Your coworker was six-foot-four and built like a fridge.
Sukuna stood. “Let’s go.”
Your boyfriend scoffed. “Or what?”
“Or you’ll embarrass her more than you already have,” he says nodding his head in your direction.
Your boyfriend’s face twisted with disgust, and your stomach churned because you thought he was going to swing at Sukuna. It wouldn’t be the first time he got into a bar fight.
Instead Sukuna simply stepped beside him, and your coworker on the other. Together they guided him toward the door.
“She’s my girlfriend! Babe say something—“
The words echoed through the bar; and you wished the floor would swallow you whole.
The bell chimed. And he was gone.
Customers quickly returned to their conversations and card games. The music seemed to play a little louder.
But you couldn’t. You stared at the counter. At the glasses. At anything except the people around you.
The first tear slipped free. You immediately turned away. Mortified, because how could your life get any worse.
“Hey.” Sukuna’s voice was quieter now.
You shook your head. “I’m fine.”
Another tear followed. Then another.
God, you hated crying in front of people.
Your coworker squeezed your shoulder, “I’ve got the floor, take a break.”
A few minutes later you found yourself sitting on a crate outside the back of the bar, trying and failing to pull yourself together.
Footsteps approached you, but you didn’t look up, because you knew who it was.
Sukuna sat beside you, and neither of you spoke for a while.
You wiped angrily at your face. “This is so embarrassing,” you say first.
“I care,” you blurted out, mascara stained your face now.
His expression softened, which made you look away. You felt guilty for seeking solace in a man who wasn’t your boyfriend.
“God this is hard.” The confession slipped out before you could stop it. “He’s changed so much.”
“He was such a great guy,” your voice cracked. “I know that’s hard to believe.”
The air felt as though it had thickened.
“And now I spend more time making excuses for him than talking about him.”
Sukuna looked at the floor, then at you. “I know.”
Fresh tears welled up. “He made me look stupid. So freakin stupid.” The words came out small and broken.
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. “You don’t look stupid.”
“I stayed and I continue to stay.”
You laughed bitterly. “Who knows anymore.”
Sukuna watched you for a long moment. Then gently handed you a napkin. “You remember what I said the other day?”
Your chest tightened. Of course you remembered. “Hmm. I remember.”
He nodded once. “I meant it.” His gaze never left yours. “But I already told you what I had to say.”
The breeze was warm, drying your tear-streaked cheeks. This felt too intimate.
“You have to make a decision now.” Not a demand, no pressure. Just the truth.
Your eyes dropped to your hands. “What if I make the wrong one?”
A painful smile appeared on Sukuna’s face. “You already know what the wrong decision looks like.”
The tears started again; you were just so exhausted. And before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him slightly.
Sukuna froze, then slowly rested an arm around your shoulders.
No flirting, no teasing, no smug grin. Just a shoulder to cry on.
———————————————————————————————
The last box was heavier than it looked.
“What’s even in this thing?” Sukuna asked, carrying it down the apartment stairs like it weighed nothing.
You huffed a laugh behind him. “Mostly books.”
“You’re telling me paper weighs this much?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” you smiled.
Sukuna shot you a look over his shoulder, and for the first time in weeks, you laughed without feeling guilty afterward. The sound surprised you both.
The apartment was almost empty now.
Almost no framed photos on the walls. No more clothes hanging in the closet. No more reminders of all the years you’d spent trying to make something work.
The moving truck sat outside, half loaded.
Sukuna set the last box inside and dusted off his hands. “There.”
You looked back toward the building. It felt strange, you had imagined this moment so many times before. But now that you were finally doing it, it didn’t feel dramatic.
“You okay?” Sukuna asked. His voice was softer these days, but still blunt like always.
You nod, “Yeah, i think so.”
Sukuna leaned against the truck. Neither of you spoke for a moment. The spring breeze tugged at your hair.
For the first time in months, you didn’t feel like you were waiting for the next disaster to happen.
No angry texts, no drunken calls.
No wondering what mood your ex-boyfriend would be in when he got home.
The realization hit you so suddenly your eyes started watering. Again.
“I’m not,” you said turning away from him.
“Come here,” he said gesturing to you to come closer.
You wiped at your eyes, “I’m emotional.”
“I know, I’m not judging. No need for explanations.”
Sukuna smirked. Then his expression softened. “You know,” he said, “you don’t have to be strong all the time.”
That was the problem. You’d spent years being strong, fixing problems, and making excuses. Carrying someone else’s weight because you thought that was what love was.
But somewhere along the way you’d forgotten that love wasn’t supposed to hurt all the time.
Sukuna reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle it made your chest ache.
“You saved yourself,” he said.
“The restraining order. The breakup, the move. I’m so proud of you.”
“That was all you.” You smiled. “You did most of the heavy lifting, kinda like right now,” you gestured to the moving truck.
His red eyes met yours. Sukuna stepped closer. Just enough that you could feel his warmth. “But I couldn’t make the choice for you.”
You swallowed. He was right, he offered you a hand, a way out; but he never pushed.
The final decision had been yours.
Sukuna reached for your hand. Your fingers intertwined naturally now.
Although it was still fresh, you had decided on no promises or labels. One day at a time; and of course he was okay with that.
“What now?” You asked, while squeezing his hand.
Sukuna glanced toward the truck. “Now?”
A grin spread across his face. “We unpack six hundred pounds of books.”
sukuna chuckles, “Hey I already carried them.”
“You’re still helping me bring them in.”
Sukuna sighed dramatically. “See? This is how it starts.”
And as you climbed into the truck together, leaving the apartment behind for good, you realized for once, you were looking forward to what came next.
Dividers by: @thecutestgrotto