<- another look at the menu
osamu’s feet are heavy while he walks. the soles of his feet burn and his ankles are sore from holding his weight all day. he hasn’t managed to sit down for longer than 3 minutes. and although he’s grateful for the custom, he wishes he had a little longer to sit and think of yn.
her fluttering lashes and sarcastic tone, smirking as she jokes. the musical tattoos littered across her hands, wrists and upper arms. the way she poured a shot into his drink, and the light caught the green of her shamrock pandora charm before she glanced up at him with her rich eyes, and began pouring another shot in.
he’s thinking of her now as he walks, recalling every detail he can since he’ll never get to see her again, hands deep in his pockets and hair tousled from his black cap.
he begins to imagine the series of events that would occur if he had come off less obsessive and more ‘nonchalant’, the way he usually is. would she not mind giving him her number? would they go on dates? would he meet her friends and would their approval be the nail in the coffin of her love for him?
but his imaginary love story is cut short when a group of high schoolers nudge him, grumbling about what a weirdo he is as they saunter by, teenage angst radiating from them.
osamu’s eyes follow them, losing their dreamy glaze while he tries to formulate a response, his eyes blinking in shock.
he watches them cross the road, and turn a corner, disappearing. he continues to stare, still lost for words as two other people come around the corner, seemingly a couple.
he tries to shake it off and walk away, but his eyes keep getting pulled back to this guy and his girlfriend. his very familiar girlfriend.
it’s probably someone atsumu or suna hooked up with and made him cook breakfast for before kicking her out, and yet, this girl feels different. and the closer she gets, the more a feeling of contentment settles across his chest, and his aching feet are a thing of the past.
he doesn’t know this but, yn is jabbering on about her day, the good the, the bad, the ugly, “kiyoko said she’s gonna take me to this new onigiri place on wednesday, maybe thursday. someone she knows just opened it.”
kenma nods, completely enamoured with his phone rather than yn.
osamu thinks that he, whoever he is, is probably a shitty boyfriend, even though he still can’t make out how he knows the girl and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t owe any loyalty to her.
yn’s feeling uneasy now, her speech and walking beginning to slow as she swivels her head before her eyes finally settle on the figure across from them, tall and broad and peering straight at her.
she pulls on kenma’s arm, trying to be subtle about the fear inching its way through her while she whispers, breath warm against his ear, “that’s him, the one staring at us.”
it’s not hard to tell him out of the crowd of people walking, especially since he’s stood concerningly still, a sense of realisation washing over him. and as he watches the two of them speed off, kenma’s middle finger sending a clear message, he feels his knees wobble slightly and he’s filled with immense shame.
nutritional information ::
-> atsumu found osamu sat on the edge of the pavement, chin in his palm
-> kenma was thrown ASFFF, he had to put on a brave face for yn he was also shaking like a leaf and sweating
-> bokuto is no longer invested in this
-> akaashi however? couldn’t be more invested and is forcing bokuto to tell him everything
-> they did not unpack what yachi said yn was bawling by the time they got home
-> hinata folded under zero pressure and gave yn osamu’s twitter
taglist -> @nokyia @megumisluciouslashes @holacsh @project-maisie @hearttp1ece @btwihavedimples @carlacrazyyy @f2lix @lesb4ianjesus @sunawhores @aera-777 @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @dazqa @k0z3me
