#haikyuu reader

 And you were… you. Torn, unsure, wanting him anyway.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, “Stay. Just a second.”

“Toru…” you warned.

His eyes flicked around the hallway before he leaned in, lips nearly brushing your ear. “I need you.”

Your breath caught, body going rigid, the world around you melting into static.

Then he pulled back with a laugh, eyes sparkling. “To cheer for me,” he clarified. “In the stands. Seriously, (Y/N)… you’re dirty.”

“You know I can’t.”

Toru’s brow lifted, his expression sharpening. “Because your ex is here? Don’t tell me you still have feelings for him. I thought we were… something.”

You exhaled, tired and wound up all at once. “I don’t want to get into this right now. Not before your game.”

“Fine,” he said lightly, though his eyes suddenly brightened too bright. A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked, stepping back. The reaction threw you off. “I thought you’d be upset.”

“No,” he murmured, stepping forward. “Come here.”

His hand came up, cupping your face before you could protest. His mouth crashed into yours, warm and familiar, stealing whatever resistance you had left. Your arms slid around his waist, pulling him in, because how could you ever say no to him?

“Wait for me after the game,” he whispered against your lips. “I want you to come over.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t help the smile that slipped out. “I’ll be waiting.”

You took a step back. Then another. Finally, you turned around—

—and froze.

Standing at the end of the hallway, staring right at you, was Daichi.

 His arms were crossed. His jaw was tight. And on either side of him stood his two best friends, both looking just as shocked and pissed as he was.

Your stomach dropped straight to the floor.

Daichi didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared at you like you were a stranger wearing your face.

“Daichi…” you choked out.

He let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but not the kind you’d ever wanted to hear from him. “Wow,” he said quietly. “So this is what you’ve been doing.”

You opened your mouth to explain though you didn’t even know what the explanation was but, Suga stepped forward first, hand on Daichi’s shoulder as if he was holding him back from something.

“Let’s go,” Suga muttered, eyes flicking away from you, like even looking at you hurt.

But Daichi didn’t move. His gaze shifted past your shoulder straight to Toru.

“Oh,” he hissed, voice cracking with bitter realization. “It’s him.”

Toru’s footsteps creaked against the floor behind you. You didn’t even have to look to know he was standing tall, chin up, ready to say something cocky—

“Go on, Daichi. Say what you really want to say. I’m dying to hear it.” He mocked. 

Daichi’s eyes snapped back to you. “I really thought you were better than this,” he said, and it wasn’t angry. It was worse. It was disappointed. Hurt. The kind of hurt you once promised him you’d never cause.

Your throat tightened. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh?” Daichi stepped closer. “Because what it looked like was you in the hallway making out with the guy you told me meant nothing.”

Your breath stuttered. Toru cursed under his breath behind you.

“You broke up with me,” you whispered.

“And I’m starting to see why,” Daichi shot back, voice sharp as broken glass.

That one hurt more than it should have.

Asahi finally stepped between you, hands raised in a gentle, pleading gesture. “Daichi… not now. You’ve got a match.”

Daichi shook him off, but he didn’t look at you anymore. He didn’t have to. The damage was already done.

“I don’t care what you two do,” he muttered, stepping past you. “Just… don’t pretend you’re innocent.”

You flinched as he brushed by, the air cold where he’d once been warm. Suga and Asahi followed, not sparing you a second glance.

The hallway felt too quiet after they left.

Toru let out a long sigh. “Well,” he said softly, “that could’ve gone better.”

You didn’t answer. You just stood there, staring at the empty space where Daichi had been, wishing it didn’t hurt so much.

You didn’t mean to chase after them.

But the second Daichi disappeared around the corner, something inside you snapped. Something raw and unfair and tired of being the only one painted as the villain.

Your feet moved before your brain did.

“(Y/N), don’t—” he started, but you were already sprinting down the hallway.

The crowd noise from the gym faded as you turned the corner and saw them, Daichi, Suga, Asahi, walking towards the other locker room entrance. Other players were around them, chatting, laughing, stretching.

And you just… lost it.

“DAICHI!”

The name ripped out of you, sharp and cracked.

Half the hallway turned. Conversations stalled mid-sentence. The noise dipped instantly, like the whole building inhaled at once.

Daichi stopped walking.

You didn’t slow down. You marched straight toward him, chest heaving, eyes burning.

“You want to act like I’m the only one who messed up?” you shouted. “Fine! But at least tell the truth! You’re not innocent either!”

Silence.

Complete, suffocating silence.

Players stared. Coaches paused. Even the fluorescent lights seemed too loud.

Daichi turned fully, jaw clenched, eyes stormy. “Don’t do this here,” he warned, voice low enough to make your knees shake.

“No,” you said, louder this time. “You don’t get to walk away acting like I’m the bad guy. Not after everything you did.”

A ripple went through the hallway, whispers, glances, raised brows.

 Suga stiffened. Asahi looked like he might sink into the floor.

Daichi exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring. “This isn’t the time.”

“You made it the time,” you shot back. “You stood there and acted like you were perfect like you didn’t hurt me too. Like you didn’t shut me out. Like you didn’t make me feel like I was never enough.”

The hallway remained frozen.

A few Seijoh players stepped out of their locker room, confused, spotting Toru jogging up behind you. His presence only thickened the tension.

Daichi’s voice finally broke through. “You don’t know when to stop.”

“And you don’t know how to admit when you’re wrong.”

His eyes burned. “You really want to do this here? In front of everyone?”

You swallowed hard. “You did it first.”

That hit him.

You saw it—the flicker of guilt, regret, anger, all tangled together. Suga looked away, shoulders tight. Asahi’s brows knit in pain.

Daichi took a slow step toward you. Just one. Enough to make the air crackle.

“If you want a war,” he whispered, “don’t start it on a day I have a game.”

A humorless laugh left you. “Funny. That’s exactly why you thought you could say whatever you wanted.”

Toru finally reached you, hand curling around your arm. “Hey, enough,” he murmured. “He’s not worth you losing it like this.”

Daichi’s jaw ticked at that. Just barely. But enough.

He stared at You. Then at Toru.

Toru stepped beside you, sliding an arm around your waist like he owned it. He tilted his head, eyes locked on Daichi, voice carrying through the whole hallway. “Don’t glare at me like that, Captain. She came to my bed, not yours.”

Daichi took one sharp step forward, fists clenched, but Toru didn’t even blink. Instead, he laughed—low, smug, and cruel.

“Oh, come on,” Toru added, leaning in just a little. “If you were keeping her satisfied, she wouldn’t have come knocking on my door at 2 AM.”

A couple players gasped. Someone muttered “no way” under their breath. Suga looked like he might actually pass out.

You felt your stomach drop straight to the floor.

Daichi’s voice cracked like thunder. “Say that again.”

Toru raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “Gladly.”

But before he could, you shoved his chest, heart pounding, heat crawling up your neck at the chaos spiraling around you.

“Toru, stop.”

He only smirked, thumb brushing your hip possessively.

Daichi’s eyes flicked to the touch—dark, furious, hurt.

“Unbelievable,” Daichi muttered, backing away. “Both of you.”

But that didn’t stop Toru from calling after him, voice sharp as a blade:

“Don’t blame us, Captain. You’re the one who dropped the ball.”

The entire hallway fell into stunned, electric silence.

Daichi stared then shook his head and walked away without another word. No one moved until the locker room door slammed behind him. The silence he left behind felt louder than any scream you could’ve made.

​​You started walking  until you were around the corner, away from the whispers, away from Daichi’s glare, away from the chaos Toru had set on fire.

But Toru followed.

“Hey—” he started.

You spun around so fast he almost ran into you.

“What the hell was that?!” you snapped. Your voice echoed off the walls. “Are you out of your mind?”

Toru blinked, shocked for maybe half a second before his trademark smirk tried to crawl back onto his face. “I mean… he started it.”

“No,” you said, stepping closer, finger pointing at his chest. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you didn’t just blow everything up for no reason.”

He shrugged, leaning against the wall like he wasn’t the center of a hallway war. “He shouldn’t look at you like you’re something he owns.”

Your throat tightened. “That’s not your call to make!”

“Oh?” Toru lifted a brow. “So what? You want me to stand there while he acts like I’m the only one who messed up?”

“I didn’t ask you to protect me,” you shot back. “I didn’t ask you to talk about my personal life, my sex life in front of everyone.”

Toru’s jaw clenched at that. “Maybe not. But he doesn’t get to humiliate you.”

“You humiliated me!” you yelled. “You made it so much worse!”

Toru pushed off the wall, stepping toward you, expression darkening. “Would you rather I stayed quiet while he treated you like dirt?”

“I would rather you didn’t make it look like I jumped into your bed just to hurt him!” Your voice cracked, emotion bleeding through. “Because that’s what everyone thinks now. That I’m— that I’m some messy rebound.”

“You’re not,” he said immediately, voice low, almost fierce.

“Toru…” you whispered, trying to steady yourself. “You crossed a line back there.”

He exhaled, shoulders tense, something regretful flickering in his eyes. “I know.”

You looked away, anger cooling into something more painful. “I care about you. But you can’t keep blowing things up every time you feel threatened.”

He didn’t answer. He just stepped closer, gaze softening when you didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I just… seeing him look at you like that—like he still had some claim on you—it pissed me off.”

Your chest tightened painfully. “You can’t do that, Toru. Not if this…” You swallowed. “If whatever we are is going to mean anything.”

He stared at you, really stared, and for once, he didn’t smirk or joke or deflect.

He nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll try.”

 His voice softened. “For you.”

You hated how your heart fluttered.

You hated how you still wanted to reach for him.

You hated how you still cared.

“Toru…” you sighed.

But he stepped forward gently, hand brushing yours, not grabbing, not claiming, just touching.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he said softly. “Not tonight.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ oikawa tōru

this man finds it ridiculous that you have to get up in the mornings

like, the absolute audacity that you must have to leave him cold and alone at the harsh hour of seven am is beyond him

he's tried to sneakily turn off your alarm the night before

oikawa delights in the extra thirty minutes of warmth it takes you to notice that you should be awake

the lengths he goes to are so funny

when you do get up, it becomes a whole thing

"babyyyyyyy, don't go!"

you've committed the biggest betrayal ever known to man by swinging your legs off the mattress and onto the floor

he's so disgustingly adorable that a lot of the time you do fold to his desperate pleas and get back in bed

and he'll hum all satisfied and pull you against his chest, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck.

best believe you don't get out of there for at least another forty five minutes

you're late in the mornings. every single time.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ iwaizumi hajime

iwaizumi is always awake before you

he likes to go on runs when it's still cool in the morning, which means he's constantly getting up around four or five am

he'll leave little notes on the the pillows so you don't feel lonely when you wake up

"hi, love, i'm out on a run. should probably be back about half an hour after you read this. i made breakfast, if you're hungry-- it's on the counter."

iwaizumi absolutely adores coming home to you after he works out

you're all soft and sleepy, tangled up in the covers, and every single time his heart is in his throat

he'll take a shower, dry off, then collapse over you in the bed

his hair is still wet, so you'll laugh and try to push him off, but he'll just wind his arms around your waist and pull you on top of him

you keep all his notes inside your desk drawer

after he proposes, he buys a little glass box for you to store them in

you keep it in your bedroom, and add to it daily.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ kageyama tobio

this man is SHY

kageyama really likes it when you shower him in physical affection, but isn't always the best at asking for it

he's working on his communication skills, and he's starting to learn to express himself further

even though you've been in a relationship forever, he still asks to hold you in the mornings

he treats it like a matter of utmost importance, so you try to apply the same seriousness to the situation

even though you've articulated that it's not necessary to ask permission for this multiple times, he still likes to make sure it's okay

so you respect that

you'll always say, "of course, tobio!"

and he'll get all excited, and place reluctant arms around you

he'll melt almost immediately, scooting forward so your bodies are melded together, back to front

he'll hum contentedly, and you'll stroke your thumb over his hand before you're both lulled back to sleep

He was convinced that he has at least some time to sort out the tangles of perplexity with his feelings for you, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. As always, you have the last say in the issue at hand, but unlike before, there might not be a next time for him to get back at you. It’s usually irritating but at present, there’s nothing but trepidation in him. 

He sees the bus arrive from afar. He grits his teeth then starts walking briskly. However, the rancid unpleasantness in his thoughts worsens when he imagines the bus leaving. He’ll lose his mind waiting for the next one so he makes a run for it with his phone still pressed against his ear. 

‘The number you dialed is either in a place where signal cannot reach, or has no battery, so your call cannot be connected.’

Fuck. 

Even though his dash is only a short distance, he huffs heavily as he boards the bus. His sudden sprint is exacerbated by his frantic distress, making him catch his breath as he sits on the closest available seat. 

Not even a minute after he gets on, the bus leaves. He made the right call to go after it before it even showed signs of leaving. 

If only he did the same with you. Then he wouldn’t have to experience this panic-stricken chase.

He’s tried calling you four times, but he hears the same thing.  He yanks his phone down from his ear and sends consecutive texts one after the other in hopes that at least one will reach you. 

‘Where arr yoy?’

‘I cant call did somethimg happeb?’

‘Y/n?’

He doesn’t bat an eye at the typographical errors anymore. He just wants to send as many as he can as fast as he can. 

‘Im on teh way ther.’

‘Call mw whrn you see my mssages’

After that last message, he looks out the window and tries to hush the pandemonium ensuing in his head. What’s the best solution to the problem at hand? He’s called, he texted, and he’s on his way to your place. What else?

He harshly tips his head back on his seat as he shuts his eyes close before his head hurts. He hates the obvious answer - waiting. He doesn’t want to wait. The wait is eating him up viciously. 

He sits up straight and looks at his phone again. Shit, the characters are a little blurry and difficult to read clearly. He doesn’t like looking at his phone while in a moving vehicle. It makes him dizzy. The first few messages already took a toll on him,

Still, he can disregard the discomfort for he’d rather squint than wait and do nothing. He opens his contacts and dials your number. Before he presses the call button, he notices the slight tremor on his thumb.

He places his phone on his lap and clasps his hands together instead.

He didn’t realize that he’s this bothered just thinking about you leaving for good. It never occurred to him that you’d quit the team. He knows that someday you’re most likely to. But not right now and not this abruptly.

‘She couldn’t say goodbye for personal reasons.’

What fuck does that mean? 

Did the call from the other night have something to do with it? Is it family-related? He’s never heard of them from you. But why couldn’t you at least say a proper farewell to the team? He knows they meant something to you. 

Unless it's because of a totally different reason.

Is it... him? No. That’s not possible. He’s been keeping his distance but he never asked you to leave. 

He lifts one hand to massage his temples while the other grips the arm seat. Did he push you too hard to make you want to quit? Is that it? He knows he’d been acting like a prick but he doesn’t think it would make you resign from your current role which you’re earnestly dedicated to.

He can’t imagine going to the gym and not seeing you there. You’re always there.

The ride couldn’t seem any slower with how his thoughts are tormenting him and the only thing that would silence them is you. 

He keeps his eyes on the road, counting how many blocks are left before the bus reaches your area. When he finally sees it, he stands up before the vehicle even stops. The driver gives him a side eye when he taps his foot impatiently as he waits by the door. 

He glares right back. Do drivers always wait this long before opening the damn door? Fucking hell.

As soon as it does, he gets off the bus and treads the street rapidly to get to your dormitory. The night breeze is cold but he can feel the droplets of sweat as he walks.

When he arrives at the building, the guard pays him no mind as he goes in right away. They probably still recognize him since he’s been a frequent visitor not too long ago.

As he gets closer to your room, his heart pounds harder. He’s not sure if it’s because of how fast his steps were or because of how agitated he is. By the time he makes it at your door, he can feel his temples throbbing. Nevertheless, he knocks. Exhausted and perturbed on the way there, his hand falls heavy on your door with each knock.

“Come on. Open up,” he hisses impatiently.

He knocks louder and with the lack of answer from you, he checks if the door is open. He turns the knob, the click of it opening up placates his fervid worry.

...Only for it to double when he sees the room dark and devoid of your presence.

He sees the double-deck bed frame right where it should be but it’s empty. Your messy pile of stuff isn’t there either. The room no longer smells like you. There’s nothing and no one there.

He can feel panic rising so fast that he has to consciously quell it and reason out with himself. He might have gotten the wrong room. He was in such a rush and he wasn’t thinking clearly. Dormitory rooms are structured similarly after all. He might’ve barged in some vacant room instead of yours. This is too drastic that it’s fucking incredulous. 

As he turns around to leave the vacant room, he catches something that halts him from going out. He harshly tilts his head to the upper right corner where he sees a disturbingly familiar object. He keeps his gaze on it as he slowly walks towards it, narrowing his eyes in the dimness to look closely. 

He gives his glasses a slight push to better his vision, hoping that he’s just mistaking it. Sadly, it only confirms that it is indeed what he thinks it is: it’s that crocodile stuffed toy that instantly reminded him of you when he saw it.

Initially, he was planning to give you a mug because of your borderline addiction to coffee. But the moment he saw the toy, he scrapped his plan and got the toy instead.

He extends his arm up and gets the green doll. As he holds it with two hands, he accidentally touches the trigger that sets off the recorded growls.

Has the sound been this loud when he bought it? Perhaps it’s the emptiness of the room that makes them louder than they seem.

He looks back and eyes the desolate room. It looks big without your cluttered pile of stuff. As his eyes drop to the floor where you two used to work on the projects, disbelief starts to dissipate and the reality begins to sink in.

You did not just leave. You disappeared.

He can try to contact you again but seeing this plush left alone in this dark room tells him that you do not want to be reached. Even though he didn’t get to talk to you, his relenting question on the way there has been answered. 

You left because of him. You left him. 

It’s haunting, being in your room without your scent, without your belongings, without any sign of you except this gift you were supposed to keep. 

When did you think of leaving? At what point did he push you too hard?

He’s trying to dull out the prickling pain that’s fulminating from every part of him you’ve touched, including his heart. 

It’s ironic that the reason he kept putting you off was so he would never experience what he’s feeling now. He doesn’t want to get hurt. He knows how immense his feelings are for you. He knows it too well that he tried to thwart it before it gets too overwhelming for him to control. He’s scared that if he let you in his impenetrable wall, you'd have the power to hurt him. 

How naive.

He thought he was able to restrain his feelings for you before it got out of hand. Only now does he realize that he never did. 

It’s ironic that your absence crumbles that very wall he kept up to protect himself. He didn’t let you but you forced your way in without him knowing. He knew that something was chipping on his guard so he tried to remove it. Little did he know that your presence that cracked his defenses was also the only one that’s holding it together. 

Now he’s with no one but himself as the agony seeps in. If only he didn’t hamper his feelings when it began to surface, if only he wasn’t such a coward, then at least you’d be here to guide him. It would still be scary, but at the very least, you would be here. He wouldn’t be having this overflowing surge of regret and raw heartache with not a single clue how to make it stop.

With the crocodile still in his hand, he slowly walks out of your room. He glances back as reaches for the doorknob. With the toy in his possession, your room is totally empty. It’s not your room anymore. It’s just a vacant space.

He has nothing else to do here so he goes out and slowly closes the door.

He hails a cab on the way home, needing the silence and privacy it offers. When he arrives home, he doesn’t bother waiting for his change from the driver and heads inside already. He disregards the need for dinner and goes up to his room immediately. 

He puts the plush beside his pillow then pulls up the chair on his desk and sits on it. To distract himself, he decides to read the museum’s guidelines and policies even though he’s gone over it a few times already. As he grabs the folder on his wall mounted shelf, he instantly sees the boxed figure you gave him. 

Without even meaning to, his hand grabs it instead of his papers and puts it on the surface of his desk. He sees the tampered seal and trifles it open once again. He takes it out of the blister then returns the box on his shelf. 

He plants his elbows on his desk then clasps his hands together to cover half of his face as he stares at the figure. 

As his eyes linger on it, he tries to grasp for his reasons on why he was so adamant to keep it inside that box. He wishes he didn’t know why. He wishes it remained a mystery because as he thinks about it, the more futile and pointless it all seemed.

-- 

Akiteru left the door of his room open because he wants to hear when his brother arrives. It’s none of his business and it’s his brother’s life, but he wants to know what happened between you and Kei. 

He was hoping that you two will patch things up but that doesn’t seem to be happening. For the past weeks, you never went back to their house again. Kei has been at home most of the time when he’s usually out even when it’s not in his schedule to train. 

Akiteru figures that Kei must have been going to your place during those days. But not anymore.

He knows his own brother. Kei would not spend so much time with you, even letting you celebrate graduation in their home if you did not mean so much to his brother. He was only waiting for Kei to break the news to everyone that you two are officially going out. He wasn’t expecting you’d storm out and not come back.  

On top of that, Kei dislocated a finger from the last game and is not allowed to play in what can be considered the most important match for the Frogs. Kei might look like he’s impassive and fine, but Akiteru knows better. 

When he hears the door from Kei’s bedroom open, he immediately puts his phone down and stands up to go there.

He’s expects the door to be closed but similarly from the night when you left, it’s slightly ajar. He sees Kei staring at one of the dinosaur displays except he hasn’t seen the one his brother is currently looking at. It’s probably that figure that he’s been keeping unopened.

Akiteru stands by the doorway then knocks twice with his knuckles.

Kei suddenly flinches and turns to face him abruptly. He’s about to apologize when he sees liquid pooling at the corner of his brother’s eyes even through the fog of Kei’s glasses. He must have realized it too because he suddenly veers away and tilts his head down. 

“Is it her?” Akiteru asks with a careful tone, hoping that he won’t be perceived as nosy but concerned.

He sees his brother take a deep breath before answering, but even then, Akiteru hears the thick angst in Kei’s voice as it rasps a little. “Yeah.”

Akiteru presses his lips together, fighting his own sentiments as the situations years ago reverses. He was in high school then, when Kei saw how something Akiteru loved ruined him because of his dedication to it. 

Now it’s his brother's turn. He’s uncertain which is the reason, you or the injury, but seeing Kei shed even just a tear lets Akiteru know that his brother cares about it more than he expected.

If Akiteru is honest, he was hoping that Kei could fully devote himself to something to get rid of the concealed guilt Akiteru is holding. He is aware that the effect of his lies from a long time ago are deeply seeded in his brother’s psyche. 

Kei has always been aloof but it was because of him, the older brother - the supposed role model, that made his younger sibling cold and guarded. It would’ve relieved Akiteru if Kei found something to sincerely care about even if it reaped no benefits for him. 

Akiteru saw the change in his brother when he joined Karasuno. That’s why he continued playing even in college. Karasuno taught Kei that it’s okay to care.

But he never truly let go, still holding reservations to serve as his security blanket.

Akiteru has been waiting for him to fall in love with something like he did with Volleyball.

Then his brother found you. 

However, unlike the sport, people are receptive. Unlike the sport which is just there for anyone to divulge themselves into any time they please, humans are not. People get fed up and when they do, they can choose to go.

Akiteru can only speculate based on what he’s witnessed and Kei’s current situation that you won’t be coming back.

He takes gentle strides towards Kei, not to say anything, but to give his brother two taps on the shoulder to silently let him know that it will be okay.

The older Tsukishima strongly sympathizes for his younger brother who’s only grasping at the straws from how novel this must be to him. 

Kei might not be weeping devastated on the floor like Akiteru was, but he knows the weight of the despair that’s hanging on his hurting brother. Despite that, Akiteru thinks it’s vital that this happens.

It hurts now but it will go as time passes by.

Experiencing pain this way is normal. If Kei is going through this anguish, that only means he cherished you just as immensely. That’s better than not having experienced it at all. 

As Akiteru feels the slight trembling of Kei’s shoulders, Akiteru removes his hand and goes out of the room. He gently closes the door behind him and gives his brother the privacy he needs.

—

Tsukishima is not supposed to come to practice today. It’s supposed to be his day to work out his lower body and plan his endurance training with the team’s fitness coach.

However, he still went because of the slight chance that you’d be there. He knows that it’s very unlikely that you’d just come back but there’s a possibility that you might change your mind about not saying goodbye. You might decide to drop by and see the team, even if it’s just for the last time. 

He knows you adore the team even if you ended up loathing him for his folly. 

“Tsukishima!”

He hears the telling voice of Coach who he’s absolutely certain is about to castigate him for not following her scheduled training days. Although, he is ready for it. He knows Coach will definitely say something, but he’s willing to accept whatever it is if it gives him the opportunity to see you.

“Didn’t I say you should be at the other gym today?” 

He meets her eyes then looks to his side before nodding. “Sorry. I forgot.” It’s a lame excuse but it’s really the best one he can come up with. He hears her sigh as she puts her hands on her hips. 

“I would send you out if it wasn’t so counterproductive.”

He lifts his gaze a little, waiting for her approval to let him stay and help with the blocking scheme again so he can be there in case you decide to come back. 

Like he predicted, she glances at the court where his teammates are doing their assigned drills. “Help Itsuki for today. But I better not be seeing you here again the next day. Got it?” she asks stringently as she gives him a scolding look again. She tips her head to the court and tells him, “Go run your laps first.”

He bows politely then goes inside the locker. He changes quickly so he doesn’t miss it in case you do arrive. He walks back to the court, still pulling the hem of his shirt down. As he jogs around the gym, his eyes keep darting on the entrance, hoping and waiting for your arrival. Even when he’s doing the blocking drill with his teammates, he can’t help but look at the main door. He should be giving up when the sun starts setting with still no sign of you, instead, he wishes for sunset to slow down and give you more time to appear. 

It doesn’t happen though. 

The training concludes with him watching Shiro lock up the gym. 

“U-umm.. Tsukishima-kun?” the new manager slowly turns to face him, half-confused and half-scared. “I-is there anything I can help you with?”

He shakes his head and makes up another lame excuse to stay a little longer. “I might have forgotten something inside.” She freezes on the spot then looks at the lock she’s holding. She visibly deflates as she turns to him again. “Do you need to check?” she asks even though she obviously wants to leave already. 

“No. It’s fine. I can check on the next training day,” he takes pity on her and lets up. He pockets his hands then starts walking away.

However, he does not attend the next training because Coach will probably take him to the fitness gym herself. When he comes back for his scheduled training day, he keeps an open ear for any news of you. If you did come to visit, his teammates would be talking about it or mention it at least once. 

But no one does, and he refuses to believe what it means. 

With no way to reach you, he waits until that day of the promotion match. You’ll be here. He’s sure of it. You will want to know how the match will go just as much as everyone else does.

From the benches, he keeps looking around, hoping for your presence. He even walks around the gymnasium because he refuses to acknowledge that you’re not coming to support the team. 

But as the game concludes, he spots not even a ghost of you. You aren’t here. 

This is enough to let him know that you’re not coming back anymore. Whatever compassion you felt for the team was overshadowed by your palpable aversion towards him. There’s nothing he can do but accept that. 

And so, days after, he finally believes it. You’re really gone, and will never step foot inside the gym again. 

--

It was a difficult pill to swallow. The first weeks after the promotion match were especially harder. The training hours felt longer for he was always waiting for you to show up by the entrance. It didn’t even have to be for him. He just wanted to see you. He could even tolerate it if you came back and said it was all a prank. 

But you didn’t. 

He had to hide the Spinosaurus figure away from his sight after that promotion game. He couldn’t look at it for he’d always remember the look on your face when you told him you loved him. 

People say that regret always comes at the end and how he furiously hates that saying for how it rings so painfully true. When words were uttered, wrong decisions were made, and now everything of it is gone, and he can no longer apologize because you're no longer there. What’s left is the crippling regret that he has no choice but to endure.

It took a while, but time really heals all wounds just like Akiteru said, even those he caused himself. His finger healed and he was able to play again. He also stopped glancing at the gym entrance and no longer searched for you during official matches. 

Life went on. 

Training hours went back to its usual pace and one day, he put the dinosaur figure you gave to him back to his shelf for him to glance upon once in a while. It was agonizing when he finally sorted out his feelings and came to terms that he did love you back - the kind of love that terrified him.

Despite his vehement regret, he doesn’t want to forget. Your gift to him is a keepsake, a reminder that someone like you was once part of his life. He thought he couldn’t be with someone as beautiful and captivating as you, but in a way, he was. 

He wants to remember those little things you did which he found silly. All those were privy to only the both of you, from one secret to another until it became one big enigma that he wished he uncovered before it was too late. 

As weeks turned into months, the regret became manageable. Everything became back to normal, apart from still missing you at times and wondering how things would’ve been different if you were there.

They were only lingering thoughts though. They go away as fast as they come because he knows there’s no sense dwelling in it anymore.

He can only focus on the present which is mostly occupied by his job which he’s well-acquainted with now.

Lot of the time, he’s just inside the office doing research work for the museum since that’s what he excels better at than touring the museum visitors. But for today, he’s assigned the latter. 

He looks at his wrist watch and stands up when he sees it’s quarter to two. When he was first assigned to tour visitors, he thought it was going to be fine and it did end up being okay. It was just a couple of people so it was manageable. 

Touring students, on the other hand, is another story. He had the most unfortunate experience of being assigned to be the guide to high school students who were on a field trip before. He found out that his patience can be stretched thinner than it already is. There was a lot of unnecessary tittle-tattle from the bunch that he was being talked over when he’s giving his small lectures. He couldn’t help but put on a sour face as he’s explaining. 

He’s been a high school student before and he knows how rowdy they can get, but still, he despised every second of it. He felt like a babysitter more than a guide. 

He hopes college students are a better crowd. He doesn’t want to have a splitting headache on the way home later. 

He gets his ID and lets out a big sigh before going out of the office to greet the students that are scheduled to arrive at three in the afternoon. He waits by the underground entrance and readies himself for the worst that is in the form of pesky students. 

When he sees a group of people wearing IDs, he takes a deep breath and approaches them. As he expected, they are chatty and too eager for his liking.  He clears his throat and makes his voice louder and firmer than usual. 

“Welcome to the Sendai Museum. I’m Tsukishima and I’ll be your guide for today. Please refrain from playing with any artifact and I would appreciate it if you do your best to keep silent while the tour is ongoing. If you have any questions, please raise your hand.” His colleagues would say that his voice is dead and cold, but to him, this is the way he accommodates visitors. He’s not being rude. He’s being professional. 

“This way please,” he says before turning around and officially starting their visit.

He walks ahead and expects the rest to follow. He’ll let them chat but when he starts talking, they have to shut up. The first site is an enclosed space because it is an underground facility. Voices echo even if they’re not talking too loud.

He turns again to face the group. “What you see here are the remnants of humans who resided right at the very spot you’re standing.” Right after he says it, someone grabs onto the preserved bark inside the domed open glass. “Excuse me. I just announced earlier to not play with it. Please take caution when you touch anything.” The student retracts their hand immediately and gives him a wide apologetic smile as they say sorry. 

He tries to keep his sigh to a minimum. If one of them reports him for being ‘rude,’ he’ll be told off by his supervisor again. He already promised to be on his best, amicable behavior in exchange for getting more research work because he really prefers to be at a desk than interact with visitors. 

“Thank you for understanding,” he adds before he continues the tour. 

“This section of the museum is a time capsule. Nothing was moved. Everything you see is exactly how it was when it was founded. The museum was built right on this site where people from the Paleolithic era thrived. This building provides a temperature-controlled climate that helps preserve the remains,” he explains to the group of which half in front are listening while taking photos and those in the back are taking photos and no surprise, talking amongst themselves. 

He lets them be as long as it’s still his voice that’s mainly heard in the area. After he gives an overview of the underground exhibit, he lets the students check the displays on their own. It’s only one third of the entire tour but his throat is already dry. This job makes him speak more than he intends to. 

After thirty minutes, he gathers them again and leads them to the upper floor where more artifacts are located. He allots five minutes for the group to head up after him before continuing on the history for that floor.  When they have all lined up again, he directs them to the middle section of the floor. 

He begins discussing the stone carvings on the wall when he hears very loud, very distracting rushed steps on the stairs. Did someone stay behind and when they looked around, their classmates weren't there anymore? Because that’s what it sounds like. Even the group seems to hear the hasteful steps with how some of them are looking at the stairs they just climbed from.

“As I was saying,” he decides to ignore it and gets their attention. He did his job and gave time for everyone to be there. It’s not his fault that someone was left behind. 

He redirects his focus to the stone tool he was about to explicate. “In the early stone age, there were only hammer stones, axes, and scrapers as tools. However, the Tomizawa site was founded only 20,00 years ago. Human civilization has then discovered that stones had other purposes other than survival.”

He should’ve drank water during the break. His throat feels scratchy with lengthy sentences and phrases. He takes a deep breath then glances back at the group to check on the student who was shameless enough to run on the stairs.

She’s looking down while she scurries to put her earphones on her bag and get something from it at the same time. She pulls out her ID and wears it hastily. She’s at the end of the line and he couldn’t make out her features that well. However, there’s that feeling of uneasy hopefulness that’s brimming in his chest. He knows that stance. The way she rests her hip to the left is hauntingly familiar.

She sweeps her hair back then lifts her gaze when she finally appears to collect herself well enough.

He can’t quite describe the feeling. For the past few months, he can’t count how many times he looked around the gym while doing the drills just to see if you’ve visited. There were even nights that he wished  you’d be in front of their house again, staring at his window.

He had no news about you after you left. He had no way to reach you because even your social media accounts were no longer there. He can only hope that you’ll come back because he doesn’t know where to find you.

And with no warning, there you are, standing only a few feet away from him. 

He should get on with the tour and continue. He shouldn’t be taking step after step, heading to where you are. However, that’s exactly what he’s doing until your features become clear enough to remind him how much he missed you and still does.

You look surprised and confused, which he doesn’t blame you for. He is too. It’s just that he has been wanting to see you again for so long that his yearning is more prevalent than his shock.

But what does he say?

‘I’m sorry for how I treated you’

‘I missed you’

‘Where have you been?’

‘Why did you suddenly leave?’

‘How are you?’

There’s so much to say but none are appropriate because he doesn’t know where you two stand now. But he knows one thing for sure.

He’s found you.

Part 12 || Part 14 || masterlist  

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