#eni.writes

Yes, it was exhausting, but Shouta likes to think he’s got it all under control. At least he knows what to expect. By now, it’s routine; Nemuri gossips about student drama (“Kobayashi Mariko from one of the second year support classes cheated on their girlfriend with a business department third year”), Hizashi reacts at a volume louder than necessary (“You’re kidding. The poor girl must be crushed”), everyone hears and begins to chime in (“I thought they already broke up, I saw her with Kato Misaki from general studies at the mall last weekend” “Well, that doesn’t mean anything. People go to the mall with their friends all the time” “But they kissed” “Tell me you’re joking”), Shouta sighs a deep, aching sigh in preparation for the headache that's about to kick in, and less than a minute later, right on schedule, a low chuckle comes from beside him as you set down a cup of coffee and greet him with a cheeky, “good morning, sunshine”.

Living the life of a hero, constantly stepping out into the world unsure if he’d return, Shouta has come to be appreciative of the slight pleasures in his life. One of those pleasures is you. He couldn’t always afford the luxury of routine, yet there you always were. You were just enough joy to last the day. Gentle when the time calls for it; brutally honest when need be. Comfortable in your skin, you expressed yourself in the way you knew others would understand while being unapologetically yourself. When Shouta started working at UA, he’d shadowed you for a semester, learning your tips and tricks for nurturing the new generation of heroes. Despite graduating the year after him, you’d established an aura of authority and dependability that not even he could ignore. Long after he’d done the same, you still offered your services and assistance in whatever way you could. How you managed to take on other people’s workloads he’d never know, he just knew he was grateful for you. 

You were a different kind of teasing than Nemuri, a tamer happy than Hizashi. You were reliable in every sense and unwavering in your identity. Students flocked to you for advice as you undulated naturally between teacher and older sibling. You could easily take command of a room and just as quickly get everyone laughing. You stomped out defiance and made tiktok references in the same breath. Your presence brought relief; if you were here, everything would be figured out. Everyone just knew no matter what it is, (y/n)’s got it under control. 

So when you shuffled into the faculty room half an hour late, eyes puffy and bloodshot, your usual confidence nowhere in sight, Shouta did a double take. The other teachers were preoccupied with this week’s “tea” (he’d heard Ashido use the term alongside other colloquial phrases he was far too removed to understand) and had yet to notice you. Judging by how you’d flinched at a louder than necessary gasp, it was a good thing. 

What was normally a purposeful strut to the coffee station was now an aimless lumber. You changed course several times as if you’d forgotten the configuration of the room. Your arms were unsure as they unfolded and reached for the pot. From where he sat, Shouta could see your hands shake while pouring your coffee. They hovered over the countertop awkwardly as usual routine became foreign to your distracted mind. You clumsily spilled sugar and whimpered as creamer splashed over the rim of the cup. Your arm knocked over the nearly empty container of stirrers as you reached for napkins and it seemed to be the final straw. Blinking rapidly at the ceiling and taking shaky breaths did nothing to stop the silent tears from burning trails down your cheeks. You sniffled once, twice, and rubbed frantically at your eyes. Shouta wasn’t one for comfort, but leaving you to break down in a high school teacher’s lounge over a cup of coffee at 7:30 am didn’t sit quite right with him. As he stood to confront you (confront sounded violent and all too certain for what he was about to do. What exactly he was about to do, he had no clue), you let out a choked sob and escaped to the door, leaving the coffee and stirrers in disarray on the countertop. 

“What’s wrong with (y/n)?” someone asked, as you pushed past Vlad and made a mad dash to somewhere beyond the lounge’s field of vision. Shouta was too preoccupied with packing his files and following you to check who said it. 

Sometimes Shouta forgets that you’re also a stealth hero, but moments like this remind him (he says “moments like this” like this happens often. He wouldn’t be chasing after you if this wasn’t out of the ordinary- if he wasn’t concerned). You were fast and, by God, were you hard to find. It didn’t help that classes started in less than half an hour and the early-bird students had started wandering campus. At least this proved you were more than capable as a hero; even in your distress, you could blend into a crowd with ease. 

He chased your trail until you hit a quiet stairwell and collapsed into a heap of sorrow under the railing. Now that you were within reach, Shouta realized he honestly didn’t know what to do. Operating at night and dwelling in the shadows for the majority of his career, Shouta had broken up trafficking rings, rescued victims of abuse, and toppled organized crime circuits, but comforting his colleague was way above his pay grade. But there was very little about this profession that involved staying in one’s comfort zone. It was as he’d overheard All Might tell Problem Child #1 (they weren’t slick; neither of them could whisper very well, let alone keep secrets), a hero’s body moves before they think. So here he was, body in a forgotten stairwell, mind still in the teacher’s lounge 3 floors and a 5 minute cardio workout away.

He didn’t know how many times he had to say it, but you’d been nothing but dependable. He’d never once had to worry about you. If he thought back far enough, your few encounters with him as UA students served memories of the same. You came just after Hizashi and Nemuri on the list of people he could tolerate, but higher than them at the same time. He wasn’t sure why. 

You always called a cab for him after faculty bar crawls, regardless of whether or not he was sober. You were the first face he saw after the USJ incident at the beginning of the year. You’d often come to his apartment (now his room in the dorms) to keep him company while you both graded papers. Late into an evening of exasperated comments and mood-lightening jokes, you, without fail, would snatch away his stacks of papers and force him to sleep. By the time he woke up, they were graded and organized by student and subject. 

He… liked having you around. Not just because you did things to help him, it was more than that, Shouta just had no idea what else it was. Maybe it was that way that before he entered the cabs you called for him, you always demanded he text you to let you know he was home. It may be hidden in how you would grab his arm when he waved off your worry, and you’d look into the depths of his soul with searching eyes. “I’m serious, Shouta. Promise me,” and he would, because he could never lie to you. 

Maybe the answer lies within the time you told everyone to get rest as you stayed to listen to the nurses explain how to change his bandages when the Nomu left him bedbound. How, like clockwork, you’d knock on his front door, push him onto his couch, and ignore his protests to change the bandages he had been neglecting for school assignments and patrol. Had it been Hizashi, he wouldn’t have made it past the door. Don’t get him wrong, Hizashi is still Shouta’s closest friend, but neither of them would have lasted the period of time it took to properly unwrap, discard, disinfect, apply, and rewrap. It was probably because he knew you’d make it easier that Shouta let you stay. That was definitely it. And it was because he was comfortable around you that he gave you the second spare key to his room. That’s also why he let you detangle his hair while he slept and you finished grading papers under his kotatsu. You made him comfortable and he was grateful, that’s all. Had he ever done anything to pay you back? He was too young for his memory to fail him, so the answer was probably no.

That changed today.

Your shoulders shook more violently as time passed and it made Shouta realize how long he’d been lost in thoughts about you and that he was yet to actually help you. Trance now broken, he took a seat next to your trembling form and inhaled deeply before speaking. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?” stupid stupid stupid stupid why was that the first thing to come out of your mouth what the fuck they’re gonna say no and never speak to you agai-

You looked up abruptly, startling Shouta the slightest bit. You looked… awful. He wasn’t going to sugar coat it. Dried tears left tracks down your cheeks and fresh, hot ones made new trails right through them. Your eyes were hesitant- glossy and unfocused, lips etched in a wobbly frown. Your nose was running and your brows were pinched. Maybe this was more than Shouta signed up for. Before he could back away or call Nemuri or Hizashi for help, you scooted closer to him and wrapped your arms around his torso. When your wet face buried into his shoulder, Shouta sighed once again. When he asked if he could touch you he really only expected to put a consoling hand on your shoulder. Nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around your frame as you shook.

You both sat like that for a short while. No words were exchanged. Just you clinging to the fabric of his clothes and him holding you in place. You counted the dull thudding of your heartbeat. Somewhere in the back of your mind you acknowledged that it was beating in time with Shouta’s. At the calming realization that you weren’t alone, your hiccups slowed and reduced to occasional sniffles. That was good. You began to pull away, wiping at your face. That was not good. Shouta’s mind came to a record scratching halt. Why exactly was it not good? Sure he enjoyed having you in his arms but- no. He was going to stop there. This was much too dangerous a thought path to be going down. He was only here to comfort you. Let’s get back to that. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shouta looked down at you, still somewhat curled into yourself. Curled into him.

You then sighed and straightened, “I don’t know what there is to talk about. I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s all just too much, I can’t catch a break,” your voice wobbled again for a moment and Shouta was afraid you’d cry again. You swallowed thickly before continuing.

“There’s too much going on and no time to address any of it. Things keep getting piled onto my plate, but I can’t sacrifice the rest of what has to be done. Crime is skyrocketing, we’re switching curriculums, I just got assigned to the Shie Hassaikai case, and my family is in town. On top of that, Hound Dog doesn’t have enough space in his schedule to accommodate the influx of students seeking help, so I’m the temporary counselor. I’m applying for grad school right now and once I start there’s no end in sight,” as you made yourself vulnerable in front of someone for the first time, your voice increased in pitch.

“Everyone is suffering and I feel like I’m the only one who can fix everything, but I can’t. And it frustrates me so much because I always fix everything, so there has to be something wrong with me if I can’t do it now. I’m tired, but I can’t be. I’m drowning but I have to make sure everyone else gets to shore first. I’m scared of letting everyone down.” There. It was all out. Your dirty laundry was out in the open. The words that hung heavy in the air brought clarity as they washed over Shouta like the eye drops you once had to force him to use. He watched in understanding as you sagged against the steps behind you.

Of course you felt like you couldn’t catch a break. You were doing everything for everyone all the time. Everyone could depend on you but who could you depend on? Shouta cursed himself internally for not picking up the signs earlier. He prides himself on his perceptiveness, but he couldn’t see that one of his closest companions was working themselves to the bone. He was doing a terrible job. But there would be time to berate himself later, you were his priority right now.

“There’s only so much one person can give. A well has no use when it’s run dry. It doesn’t make sense for you to do everything in the name of pleasing others. You’re entitled to being selfish. You can say no. Nobody will fault you for it. You are a good person regardless of whether or not you help whenever the opportunity arises. You’ve done more than enough to last several lifetimes. Everyone cannot rely on you all the time. You cannot shoulder everyone’s burdens. Don’t forget that you can ask for help too,” that was more than Shouta had said at once in at least a week. How special were you?

“Does that mean I’m allowed to rely on you?” you peeked at him from the corner of your eyes, trying to conceal… something. Was it hope? Relief? Admiration? Whatever it was, it made Shouta nervous. He looked away.

“Of course. We’re... coworkers. And you’ve always been helpful, it would be remiss of me not to return the favor,” his words left a soft smile on your face. He hadn’t done much, just told you what you needed to hear. You’d need time to internalize it, but you were already feeling more grounded. And this coworkers thing...

“Just coworkers? You don’t sound so sure,” you teased as the tell-tale glow of red eyes and floating hair from Shouta’s quirk accompanied a light dusting of red on the apples of his cheeks. 

He stood quickly, brushing the dirt from the stairs off of his pants, “Class starts in 10 minutes, you should get cleaned up.”

You chuckled (that was good) and stood beside him. Without a second thought, you grabbed his arm and began to walk in the direction of the faculty room. You didn’t teach during the first period of the day, but he still needed his folders.

“I will. I just wanted to escort my coworker to his classroom first,” you reply cheekily. The pep returned to your step and your heart felt lighter. The only evidence that you had been anything other than happy was the redness of your eyes and the wet splotches in Shouta’s shirt. It felt good to have someone to rely on so you let yourself indulge in the feeling a little longer. You leaned into him as you conversed about everything from lesson plans to the menu Lunch Rush posted for the day.

“That musical you like, In The Heights, they made it into a movie right?” Shouta blurted before he could stop himself. Stupid stupid stupid stupid-

“Yes, they did. Why?” you knew why. You could hardly conceal your smile.

“Would you like to see it this weekend? With me, I mean. We could get coffee after. You deserve the break. Or we could just grade papers because-”

“Because we’re just coworkers right?” you cut him off with a sly smirk as you came to a stop in front of the teacher’s lounge’s doors, “I’d love to. We’ll talk details later, yeah? Class starts in 2 minutes.”

“Okay,”

“Okay,” there was that hesitation in your eyes again. Before Shouta got the chance to analyze what it could have meant, you leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and turned on your heels. You were going to talk to Nezu about taking a break.

He couldn’t keep the small smile off his face if he tried.

— —

“-And I heard from Rokuda from 3-C who heard from Kobayashi from 3-E who was walking with Takane from 2-D that (y/n) kissed Aizawa in the hallways yesterday.”

“I heard it was a little more than that, I’m talking janitor’s closet” “No” “Don’t shoot the messenger. That’s what I heard from Tsukino from 2-B” “Oh my God”

As you slid the door open, Shouta in tow, you cocked a brow at the quick hushes and suspicious eye-contact from everyone in the room.

“Did I miss something?”

I don’t think that’s stupid at all!! But you should see how sad Akaashi is without you He doesn’t smile a lot, but when he does, it’s almost always because of you HEY! Send a message to him right now and you’ll see Bokuto K.; 6:03pm

Okay..? You; 6:03pm

[Attachment: 1 Image] See!!! Bokuto K.; 6:04pm

Thank you, Bokuto-san Really You; 6:07pm

Of course! It’s my job as ur senpai to make sure ur ok Did I do a good job??? Bokuto K.; 6:08pm

Yes, Bokuto-san. You really did You; 6:08pm

Of course I did!! Break’s over! I gotta go. See ya soon (l/n) And I promise not to spill the secret!!! Bokuto K.; 6:10pm

Pinky promise? You; 6:10pm

Pinky promise!! Bokuto K.; 6:10pm

Alright, have fun! You; 6:11pm

You scrolled back up to the picture Bokuto had just sent you with a small smile on your face. The image was blurryㅡobviously rushed as if Bokuto was trying not to get caughtㅡbut it was perfect for you. The gym's fluorescent lighting cast a halo in the gaps between your boyfriend’s unruly hair and danced in the gunmetal undertones of the eye you could see. Just as your upperclassman promised, the smallest smileㅡinvisible to the untrained eyeㅡsat comfortably on his lips. The photo was taken from the side, so you only saw the tenderness in his left eye, but you couldn’t stop your heart from swelling 3 times its size knowing you were the cause of such a fulfilling gaze. Who knew the most beautiful man in your life could get more beautiful? And all because you’d sent him a simple heart.

Maybe Bokuto was right. Keiji would be excited to see you.

But maybe he was wrong. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in almost 4 months. Don’t ask. It was messy, it was stupid, it was super fucking annoying.

ㅡㅡㅡ

You scratched the skin just below your skirt while waiting for the vending machine to process the numbers you punched in. Everyone at Fukuroudani knew that this was the best and worst machine on campus. It carried the best drinks in the largest sizes, but was near impossible to operate. Depending on the time of day, day of the week, and phase of the moon you could get your drink within 3 minutes or 15. The moon was obviously not in a favorable position, because, not including the 4 times your 1000 yen had been spat back into your hands, you’d been waiting in front of the machine for 8 minutes and 37 seconds… 38… 39…

Saved from your agony, the machine began to hum and push your drink forward. Finally. You spoke too soon, you realized, as your purchase got caught in between the racks and the glass. You knew exactly what you had to do, but had no energy to do so. A quick glance at the clock showed how little time you had left of your lunchㅡwas it worth it? Remembering that the price of this same drink was almost double at the konbini near your house, you decided it was. With fierce determination behind your eyes, you shifted your weight and swung every ounce of strength into a strategically placed kick on the machine’s side. Okay so maybe I should start stretching again. That should not have hurt as much as it did. I might have actually pulled a muscle. Rubbing at your leg again, you crouched to grab your drink from the slot and straightened immediately when you heard high-pitched whistles come from behind you. You didn’t have to turn, but you did anyway if only to glare at the group of 3rd years trying to rile you up.

“Aren’t all of you 18? Are you trying to catch a case by catcalling a first year? That’s what I thought. Respectfully, go fuck yourselves,” you seethed as you snatched your drink, popped the tab, and left the scene before a wandering teacher tried to reprimand you for cursing out your seniors.

Sore, irritated, and drink acquired at the expense of most of your lunch break, you stormed back to your classroom knowing you could air your grievances to Keiji about the occurrences of the 15 minutes since you’d seen him last. Thank God you were eating with him today. Not a day goes by that you aren’t grateful for how reliable your boyfriend is. You could count on him to say what you needed to hear whenever you needed it.

What you weren’t counting on was sliding open the classroom doors to find some girl leaning onto your desk and into Keiji’s personal space. His eyes shot to you when he heard the door connect with the wall and you could almost hear his plea for help. His eyes widened ever so slightly and he gave you a near indiscernible inclination of the head, your shared sign language’s way of saying, “I don’t know how I found myself in this situation, but I want to leave.” It was normally reserved for nosy neighborhood aunties trying to introduce their nieces and nephews to the both of you, but the wordless communication you both had been building since you were young was just as effective now.

If you weren’t angry before (you were), you were beyond agitated now. Was this not Japan? Was everyone not taught respect at a young age? Did you wake up this morning in an alternate nightmare universe where everything was ever-so-slightly more inconvenient than what your emotional reserves for the day were willing to handle? You didn’t realize you were clenching your fists until some of your drink dribbled onto the back of your hand. You also didn’t realize your feet were moving until you were right in front of the pair.

“Keiji, baby, who’s this?” Akaashi winced at the sickly sweetness in your tone, this was the side of you he avoided at all costs: the affectionately titled, Overworked And Underpayed Customer Service Employee Meets Pissed Off Soccer Mom. In less coded words, the side of you that used politeness as the final barrier between you and righteous fury. For anyone that knew you, it was a terrifying place to be. But for you, this stage was rather cathartic. It was a neat segue that allowed you to welcome the rage that flushed your system clean of any of your usual friendliness and settled on top of your bones like molten rock over the side of a volcano. The look in your eyes read danger and the mystery girl ignored all the signs.

“Oh don’t mind me. I won’t be relevant to you much longer. You can call me Yasunobu, but Keiji here can call me Naoko,” an offending hand rested on Akaashi’s bicep as she giggled. I’m too young to get my blood pressure monitored, but I just might have to after this. You felt your eye twitch.

“Yasunobu-san, I don’t think my boyfriend likes you clinging to him like that. Please let him go,” if this was the Disney movie Inside Out, the little emotion people in your brain would be celebrating and shaking hands like they were at NASA coordinating a successful moon landing. You managed to talk without cursing her entire bloodline, that was impressive.

“I think it’s fine, he isn’t saying anything,” Yasunobu leaned in further and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. What the fuck this is literal harassment- “but don’t worry. I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t forget to text me, Keiji.” Her now devilish smile stretched wider when your brow furrowed. Yasunobu’s eyes roved over your boyfriend once more, before she pushed off your desk and adjusted her clothes dramatically.

“Move it, whore,” Akaashi just barely stood from his seat in time to catch you. Did she just fucking shove me? It took you no time to regain your balance.

“Run that by me again. I don’t think I heard you correctly,” our words were louder than you’d intended and soon everyone in the room was looking at the 3 of you, eager to soak up the drama for this week. Especially because you were involved. Now, don’t misunderstand, you have a great reputation. Abrasive at times, but only when asserting yourself. When you weren’t, you were respectful and generous. Compassionate and hardworking, “a pleasure to have in class” as teachers say. But everyone knew that you were a ticking time bomb. Not quite hotheaded, but definitely not slow to anger. Normally, you could catch yourself when your self-control was about to slip, but stories spread like forestfire of the minor incidents in which staggered breathing didn’t do its due diligence. Very rarely did anyone step out of line enough for you to put them in their place, but now that it was happening, everyone wanted to see it firsthand.

“I said you should get out of my way. You’re deaf and ugly too? No wonder your boyfriend wasn’t pushing me away. Everyone knows he’s too good for you,” the silence in the room was suffocating.

Your boyfriend’s grip on your arm tightened just enough to pull you back from the spiraling thoughts he knew you had lost yourself to. The worst part is that she’s not wrong. Keiji is too good for m-

“(Y/n) just sit, she’s not worth your energy.”

“I know.”

Full of rage, yet somehow numb to the core, you sat. You picked up your drink (it splashed when she pushed you and now the sides were sticky) and took a long sip, nearly draining the entire can. Before you could set it down, it was coming back up to your face, spilling the contents over your nose and cheeks and dripping onto your uniform. You knew the spot between your eyebrows would be sore from the impact the next day. Okay she’s trying to make a statement and humiliate me, cool. Did she have to smack the metal can into my fucking forehead?

“Yasunobu-san I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but you’ve clearly gone too far. I’m not breaking up with (y/n) to date you. Even if I were going to date someone else, you are the last person I’d choose. All you’ve done is show how ugly your personality is,” Akaashi’s voice was ice as he did he best to dry you off. His focus was no longer on the girl who was now flushed red at her plan blowing up in her face.

“I’m sorry, (y/n). I’m proud of you for not losing your temper,” Akaashi had no clue how things had gotten so out of control. He was just glad it was over. Lunch was going to end soon and the teacher would come and make sure Yasunobu got the discipline she deserved.

That would be too easy though.

Before Akaashi knew what was happening, you were pushing past him and grabbing the girl’s quickly descending hand.

“First you flirt with him, then you try to slap him? Are you crazy?” you seethed. This would go down as your worst lunch break in high school history. It didn’t get much worse than this. This was a textbook American high school movie conflict, and you were driving the bus straight into Regina George.

“Don’t touch me,” Yasunobu hissed as she snatched her hand away and sent it flying back at your face in full force. Gasps went around the room and you distantly acknowledged someone running out of the room in search of a teacher. She smirked in victory as you stared at the floor and held your cheek. She just fucking slapped me.

“That actually almost hurt a little,” you mumbled. There was a pregnant pause as the whole room held its breath. This was the type of out-of-line behavior that would unleash the side of you no one was previously dumb enough to intentionally provoke. The only question now was: what were you going to do?

You didn’t keep anyone waiting long. Your hand descended in a swift arc onto the girl’s face. It was no ordinary slap. It was the deafening kind. Your palm was cupped as it clapped against her ear and sent her tumbling to the floor. You knew it was a one and done ordeal; nobody took a slap like the one you dealt out without being knocked off their equilibrium for a while.

“Someone take her to the nurse’s office, she’ll need to lie down for a bit,” was what you wanted to say, but before you could open your mouth, 3 teachers burst into the room. All they saw was a girl sobbing hysterically on the floor (when did she start crying?) and you standing over her.

“(l/n), you’re with me. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Well, shit.

ㅡㅡㅡ

It was worse than you thought. A lot worse. That fact didn’t dawn on you until you sat with your mother and step-father on the opposite side of the table from Yasunobu and her parents. The three of them were dressed to the teeth with name brand clothing and clutching their bags like you were going to rob them. Her stuck-up parents shifted haughtily and narrowed their eyes whenever you glanced in their direction, so you kept your eyes glued to the wall behind them. Apparently the nasty behavior was hereditary. The teacher who dragged you out of the classroom, Suzuki-sensei, a third year science teacher, alongside the principal entered the silent room to debrief both sets of parents on the situation and dole out the consequences. You were expecting a severe scolding and extra cleaning duties at the worst. Suzuki-sensei was on your side, as were many othersㅡeye-witness accounts all reported much of the same thing, it was obvious what the truth was, but the Yasunobu family was one of the largest benefactors of the academy. As long as Naoko continued with her crocodile tears, Fukuroudani was at risk.

Suzuki-sensei pulled your family aside, promising to do everything in his power to ensure Yasunobu didn’t get off scot-free. As for your punishment, there was nothing you could do. Trust me, your mother tried. Funding was far more important than a single student, no matter how promising of a student you were.

So one formal, written apology and a lot of screaming matches later, you were temporarily unenrolled from Fukuroudani Academy and shipped off to an all-girls etiquette school. Your mother, bless her heart, tried to reason with your step-father, but he wasn’t having it. He’d been looking for any reason to send you away and make room in the house for his children and wasn’t keen on letting this opportunity slip away (that was another can of worms for another day).

“She’s too volatile.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for months that she has an attitude problem.”

“Assault over a boy? I told you he was bad news.”

“It’s for the best.”

Even if it wasn’t, you found yourself stuck in a correctional environment to manage behavior that you didn’t have. Cut off from your friends, your mother, and the love of your life, you were miserable. There was only so much a phone call could do. Skype calls were hard to coordinate with your momㅡshe was working when you were free, you were asleep when she was on breakㅡand the rare face-to-face visits you had were all too short for your liking.

The only hope you clung to was the promise of it only lasting one semester.

And you made it. Nothing would ever compare to the 4 months in hell you experienced, but now you were on the other side, shaking near imperceptibly on the train towards Shinzen High School. Shortly after school let out for the summer, you met with your mother to celebrate. She was the one who planted the idea you were now carrying out into your head.

“(y/n), why don’t you surprise Keiji at training camp? He doesn’t expect to see you until he gets back. I think it would make his day. His mother told me he’s been miserable without you,” You knew your genius came from your mom, moments like this only solidified it.

It was a great idea, you wouldn’t be 6 stops (oh my god 6 stops) away from the high school if it wasn’t. You were just scared. 4 months was a long time. Naoko could have sunk her claws into Keiji in that time. Of course, he wouldn’t have texted you every waking moment of the day and called you late into the night if that was the case, but it was still a possibility. Even if it wasn’t, he could have changed. You could have changed. That was the entire point of your absence anyway. You were miraculously stubborn, but there was only so much you could reject. The lifestyle you’d been forced into was not easily ignored. What if the things he loved most about you were gone? What if when he saw you, his eyes didn’t widen then crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Would he pull his large, loving hands out of your own and neglect to fidget with them in the way he knew you loved?

What if the Akaashi Keiji waiting for you at Shinzen High wasn’t yours?

You couldn’t take that heartbreak.

It was impossible to envision a life without Keiji, you couldn’t remember a time before him. Your life has been intricately intertwined with his since before you could walk. He did life with you. Before any of your friends, you showed him when you first learned how to tie your shoes. He taught you the kanji for beautiful and wrote it on the back of your hand everyday in second grade. Even though you sucked, you helped him practice volleyball on Sundays in middle school. You opened your Fukuroudani acceptance letters together and swore on your hearts that you’d never tell another soul how hard you both cried. His growing pains were your own. If he was gone, who would tutor Bokuto-san with you? Who would joke about your mother loving him more than you? Who would remind you that you were never too flawed to be loved?

An announcement over the train’s speaker scared you out of your thoughts. Your attention shifted to the monitor overhead, but you couldn’t make out the map through the mistiness of your eyes. Stupid Keiji making you love him enough to cry in public. If you told him about this he’d laugh at you, so he’ll just never know. Bringing a sweaty palm to wipe your face, your breath hitched at the now clear map in front of you. 2 stops to go. You could just get off at the next stop and take the next train going in the opposite direction. It’s not like Keiji is going to die. You’ll see him when he gets back from camp. That might be easier.

But you’re (l/n) (y/n), self-proclaimed baddest bitch alive. Bad bitches don’t go back on their word. Besides, you’d already bothered Bokuto-san and the coaches to allow you to stay for the rest of the week. It would be rude to not show up last minute, especially after all the time they’d spent trying to accommodate you. Were you going to waste their time over some silly doubt? No way. The most loving boy on the planet was (unknowingly) waiting for you and he would be happy to see you. You missed him and he missed you too. You wouldn’t have to scroll very far in your texts to prove it. You could do this. You were going to do this.

With your mind made up, you exhaled deeply and shook all the bad thoughts out of your head. As if the universe was encouraging you to move before you changed your mind, the train screeched to a stop as it pulled into the station closest to the high school. Duffel bag hanging securely over your shoulder, you broke through the commuters moving too slowly for your liking and inhaled the fresh summer air that you’d been denied in the stuffy train compartment.

You pulled up the GPS on your phone and punched in the address for Shinzen High school with surprisingly stable fingers. A smile grew on your face as you looked at your ETA; in less than 20 minutes you’d be reunited with Keiji. You couldn’t wait.

But in the meantime, you had to plan how you were going to scare the shit out of him.

ㅡㅡㅡ

The configuration of Shinzen wasn’t all that different from that of Fukuroudani. You could navigate the empty school grounds with little difficulty, letting intuition guide you. You hummed a song with no rhythm as you moved, two-stepping and spinning to the cicada orchestra filling in the background with soft miin-miins.

Boisterous laughter cut through the previously still air and you knew immediately that you were in the right place. The smell of meat and overlapping chatter lead you behind the gyms where you found a large group of, unsurprisingly, ravished-looking, disheveled boys making excited conversation as the managers (you assume because you recognize Yukie and Kaori) buzz around the grill. Hoping to find your boyfriend or one of his teammates, you shuffled a little closer to the scene and elevated yourself on the tips of your toes. Your nose wrinkled in displeasure as you realized they all look the same: tall, athletic, sweaty teenage boys.

A cluster of blue caught your attention from the corner of your eye and you locked on to the two-toned hair of your school’s captain. Bingo. Just as you were going to step in the direction of the Fukuroudani team, you were stopped by another familiar face.

“Ah, Kuroo-san! It’s been a while,” a large grin spread across your features as you leaned in for a side hug. He got under your skin so easily, but you were proud to call Kuroo a friend. He was one of the few people that could set off your hair trigger and live to tell the tale. You were getting soft. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times Bokuto came crashing into Keiji’s house with Kuroo at his side. Very rarely did movie dates stay as just the two of you. Knowing Kuroo Tetsurou the way you did, this hug would end with his knuckles digging into your scalp and your elbow in his gut.

“Yes it has, (L/N). You know, I was expecting a more formal greeting. A 90 degree bow, a western-style curtsy even? Did you truly learn nothing from your time away?” As if on cue, he began to tug you into his sweaty (ew) torso and push your head around.

“Oi let me go, you menace,” you grumbled as you tried to push him off of you, “Etiquette school was just housewife training with calculus. I’m not going to worship the ground you walk on.” Finally breaking free, the two of you held a childish glare before relaxing into soft peals of laughter.

“Bokuto already told me that you were coming. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who knows. He's actually kept his mouth shut aside from that,” Kuroo placated the worry that filled your eyes for a brief moment before pointing in the direction you were heading before, “Akaashi should be down there. Go get your mopey little boyfriend.”

Kuroo pushed you lightly, not giving you the chance to say something snarky. At the call of your name you turn back around and are greeted with a look of sincerity not often acquainted with Kuroo Tetsurou’s face, “It’s good to have you back, honestly. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“It’s good to be back.”

Mission back in mind, you set back off to find Keiji. Your quickened steps were filled with a giddiness that you knew had flooded every cell of your body. Though your worry and doubt were shed long before you set foot on campus, you couldn’t help but notice the effervescent fluttering in your stomach as it lept to your throat and back several times over. Less than a minute now.

Head on a swivel, you must have looked lost or insane staring into groups of unfamiliar people and muttering in mild irritation when you couldn’t find what you were looking for.

“I could have sworn I just saw them? How does a group of 15 people just disappear?”

So focused on your task, you didn’t notice the eyes and whispers following you. Who were you? Didn’t they have this area reserved? What were you looking for? Should they tell a coach? Speculations bloomed in every conversation trying to place a story on you. None the wiser, you pressed on.

“I swear to God, if he’s in the bathroom or something- oh,” there, sitting demurely at the table full of your schoolmates, facing away from you, was Keiji. His hair was messier than usual and from behind you could tell he was just about ready to sink into the bench beneath him. The only thing holding him up was the arm he propped on the table and the palm he rested his cheek on. You understood. Training camp was no joke. No text message could properly convey the amount of work everyone put in this week. You could practically hear his inner monologue begging whatever deity took pity on him to send a shot of espresso from the sky. You weren’t coffee, but you could deliver an equally effective shock to his system.

In a swift motion, the bag on your shoulder was sailing through the air and colliding with his back. He was slow to react from exhaustion and you almost felt bad, but it would pay off in 5...4...3...2…

“Bokuto-san, it’s been a long day, please don’t throw things at me. There are easier ways to get my attention…” Keiji exhaled deeply as he turned around to scold Bokuto only to remember the captain was sitting right across from him. His confused eyes blinked dumbly when they finally saw you. All was silent as the surrounding players watched with bated breath.

Holding back a chuckle was proving more and more difficult as realization slid onto your boyfriend’s face, so you settled for a smirk and a lifted brow. It didn’t last long because the recognition on his face softened into something akin to fondness, to love, to coming home. The look was deeper than the crinkling of eyelids that normally translated into Keiji’s nonverbal love. It was a look you weren’t ready for, but something you couldn’t have gone another second without. You found quickly that you couldn’t keep your smirk up much longer and it was replaced with trembling lips. Amber rays of the setting sun honeyed the gaze you both shared; it was at times like this that you wished you were able to draw because you dreaded the day when every detail of this moment was lost in your memory.

(Little did you know, you would find yourself locked in a similar gaze less than 10 years from now, right after your wedding veil was lifted over your eyes.)

Akaashi Keiji is known as an ethereal being to those who don’t know him, if only they could see him now, scrambling to his feet and over the bench, barely stopping himself from face-planting into the grass. Gone was the poise that followed his every movementㅡhis only focus was pulling you into his chest and burying his face into the crook of your neck. The pull of your arms around his neck was automatic; your body had not forgotten how right it felt to be slotted with his. You could have stood there, wrapped in his embrace until you both became one with the grass below your feet. Instead you squeezed him tighter and relished in the chance to feel him again.

“I missed you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

4 months was a long time, but in comparison to the eternity you were going to love Keiji for, it was nothing at all.