#haikyuu request

——————————————————————————

That summer morning began like any other. You were elbow-deep in calendula, gently separating the blossoms from their stems, when the sound of frantic hooves shattered the calm.

You looked up sharply, standing just in time to see a horse gallop past the shop. It was riderless, lathered with sweat. Behind it, distant shouts echoed up the path from the forest's edge.

You dropped your shears.

The woods beyond the village weren’t hostile. They were simply wild and dense with pine, root-woven paths, the shimmer of foxglove in shadow. But something had happened there.

You followed instinct more than thought, your apron still tied around your waist, a small satchel of bandages and salves thrown hastily over your shoulder.

You didn’t know you were walking toward him. He was half-hidden in the underbrush when you found him. Slumped against the base of a tree, cloak torn, blood trailing down one side of his face. One leg twisted awkwardly beneath him, his breathing shallow but even. A sword lay discarded nearby, its blade nicked.

You hesitated. Not out of fear, he was clearly wounded, but because something about him felt… enormous. Like a boulder in the path of a stream. Still. Steady. Unmoved.

He turned his head slowly as you stepped closer. Dark eyes met yours. Unreadable. Unshaken.

“Are you hurt?” You asked gently.

A pause. Then, quietly. “Not badly.”

You moved toward him regardless, kneeling to examine the gash above his brow. It had already clotted some, but the skin was split. The bruising at his temple worried you more.

He didn’t flinch as your fingers brushed his skin.

“I’m going to clean this. It might sting.”

He nodded once.

You soaked a linen square in a bitter-smelling tincture and pressed it to the wound. A quiet inhale from him, nothing more.

“How did this happen?” You asked, dabbing carefully.

“An ambush…” He said after a beat. “The carriage. Bandits, I think. We were separated.”

“We?”

“My guards.”

You blinked at the calm in his voice. It wasn’t arrogance. Just… detachment. Like he wasn’t surprised to be bleeding alone in a forest.

“Were you a merchant?” You asked, eyeing the fine weave of his ruined cloak. “You don’t look like one.”

He was quiet.

“Something like that…” He said finally.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t press him.

Not because you didn’t suspect the truth, there was something unmistakably noble in his posture, even injured. But because he didn’t seem ready to say it, and you weren’t the kind of woman who pulled secrets from people’s teeth.

You offered your hand instead. “Can you stand?”

He took your hand without hesitation. His palm was rougher than you expected, calloused. A soldier’s hand. You braced your legs and pulled as he rose, watching pain flicker briefly across his face. The injury to his leg made his stance unstable, so you slipped under one arm, steadying him as best you could.

He didn’t thank you, but he didn’t resist either.

——————————————————————————

It took time to get him back to the shop.

You led him by the less-traveled paths, away from curious eyes and open windows. You were used to helping injured men, you knew the rhythm of their breath when they pushed too hard, the way they leaned against pride until it faltered.

He was quiet. Always quiet, but he watched you.

You could feel it each time your hand found his wrist to check his pulse, or when you shifted under his weight, or when you murmured something low about the slope ahead. His gaze stayed with you.

——————————————————————————

Back at the shop, you guided him onto the low cot you used for patients. He didn’t complain. Just exhaled once and let you peel back the tattered fabric around his leg.

The wound was shallow but long. Clean, at least. No signs of rot or poison. You cleaned it in silence, working by habit.

“Your hands are steady.” He said suddenly.

You blinked. It was the first unsolicited thing he’d said.

“I’ve had practice.” You replied, not looking up.

He said nothing more, but the space between you had changed. Slightly. Like a breeze shifting direction.

——————————————————————————

You wrapped his thigh with care and offered him tea while the salve soaked in.

He took the cup but didn’t drink.

Instead, he looked around. Slowly. As if taking inventory of your little shop, every jar, every string of herbs drying on the wall, every bottle labeled in careful script.

“This is yours?” He asked.

You nodded.

“You live alone?”

“I do.”

He was quiet again. Then, “It’s peaceful here.”

You smiled faintly. “Most days.”

And then, for a fleeting moment, something passed over his face. Not a smile. But not nothing either.

Almost… wonder.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t ask his name that night. He slept on the cot, and you sat near the fire, grinding valerian root with the mortar and pestle. Outside, the wind shifted.

In the morning, he was gone. He left without a word. No note. No name. Just a single gold coin beside the teacup.

You turned it over in your fingers. Thinking about the stoic merchant and the lonely look in his eyes.

——————————————————————————

It was three days before you saw him again.

You were hanging bunches of feverfew in the back garden when the quiet crunch of boots on gravel drew your attention. You turned, expecting old man Hiro or perhaps a neighbor’s child but instead, there he stood.

The stranger. The not-quite-merchant with the sword-callused hands.

He looked… cleaner this time. Less torn. His wound had begun to heal, and though he still limped slightly, he moved with the same quiet, self-possessed strength.

You blinked at him. “You left without a word.”

He gave a short nod. “I didn’t want to trouble you.”

You tilted your head. “You were bleeding.”

He looked away, eyes following the curling vines of ivy across the shop’s stone walls.

“Still.” A pause as he looked at the ground, the broad man before you looking unsure. “I brought this.”

He held out a wrapped cloth bundle. Inside was a loaf of honey-oat bread, clearly from the castle’s bakery. You recognized the delicate scoring on top. No one in the village made bread like that.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re not from around here.”

He didn’t deny it. “I was raised near the court.”

A partial truth. A carefully chosen one.

You smiled faintly and stepped aside. “Well, court or not, you’re welcome back, but only if you ever decide to leave your name this time.”

His gaze lingered on you. Then he murmured “Toshi.”

You didn’t know why the name felt important then. You only nodded.

“All right, Toshi. Nice to meet you.” You smiled warmly at him, making something inside his chest stir.

——————————————————————————

He came back again. And again.

Never on a pattern. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes at dusk. Never in the rain. Always walking alone.

You noticed he never brought anything to be healed after the first few times. Just small excuses. “I thought you might have a remedy for fatigue.” “Do you sell anything for dreamless sleep?” “My leg aches when it storms.”

He wasn’t good at lying.

But he was good at watching.

——————————————————————————

You would often find him outside the shop before you opened, silently helping carry bundles of fresh-cut herbs, or refilling the heavy water jugs from the well. He didn’t speak much, and when he did, it was always simply, directly.

You learned to speak around the quiet.

Sometimes he helped you sort dried roots into jars. Other times, you’d hand him a knife and a bowl of wild ginger to peel, and he’d sit at your small table, his large hands surprisingly precise in their work.

It became routine. Not daily. Not expected. But… welcome. And fragile. Like a bird who kept returning to your window, unsure if the glass would hold.

——————————————————————————

“I used to think people like you didn’t exist.” He said once.

It was evening. You were drying your hands on a towel, having finished tending to an old woman’s twisted ankle. He’d helped her into a chair and said almost nothing the whole time. Now, he sat with his hands folded in his lap, watching you move about the room.

“People like me?” You echoed.

He didn’t meet your gaze. “People who care. Quietly. All the time.”

You blinked. Then smiled faintly.

“Most people care.” You said gently. “They just forget how loud the world is.”

That night, when he left, he touched the doorframe as he passed through it.

A small thing. But something in you wondered if he needed the grounding.

——————————————————————————

He never told you much about himself. But you began to learn the shape of him in pieces.

He preferred bitter herbs. He slept little. He looked at storm clouds like they were old friends. He flinched but not outwardly, it was only in breath when he heard children cry. He always checked the edges of the room when he walked in.

He never relaxed. Not fully. But when he sat with you, sometimes peeling bark, sometimes watching the kettle steam his eyes softened just enough to change their color.

One afternoon, while you packed salves for a neighboring village, you asked without thinking. “Toshi, were you a soldier?”

He paused mid-reach. “I trained as one.”

You nodded. “That explains the sword.”

He tilted his head slightly. “And the silence?”

You glanced at him. Smiled. “That too.”

——————————————————————————

One morning, a child burst into your shop with a bloodied knee and a shaking chin. You crouched instantly, cooing softly, and began to clean it with lavender water.

Toshi was there, as he often was by then, sweeping fallen herbs into a pile. He knelt beside you without a word, holding the boy’s small hands gently between his own as you worked.

The boy sniffled. Toshi didn’t speak. He just held his hands firm, steady.

When you finished and wrapped the wound, the child glanced up.

“You’re strong.” He mumbled to Toshi, almost in awe. “Like a knight.”

Something flickered across Toshi’s face. A shadow of a frown. But he only nodded once.

After the boy left, you said quietly, “You don’t like being called that.”

“I’m not.” He said.

You studied him. “Not anymore?”

“Maybe not ever.”

But your heart tugged at that. Because you didn’t know what he meant, but the ache in his voice told you it had once mattered.

——————————————————————————

One evening, you were watering the potted sage near the shop window when he spoke again softly, almost like a confession.

“Do you believe people can change?”

You didn’t look up right away.

“I believe people can choose.” You said finally. “Change comes after that.”

He was quiet. Then he whispered, “I never had the chance to choose. Until I came here.”

You turned, then. Slowly. He was standing near the doorway, a shadow in the golden slant of dusk.

“Toshi…”

He shook his head once. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to you.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t know when it had started to feel like this, like something delicate was building between you, even if neither of you dared touch it.

It lived in small things.

How he held the basket when you gathered rosemary. How you set aside extra tea for him before you even knew he’d visit. How he said your name softly, always just once. Like it mattered.

You weren’t foolish. You knew he wasn’t a simple man. His bearing, his silences, his hands, all told you he came from a world you didn’t know.

But he looked at you like your world rested him. Like he came here to breathe.

——————————————————————————

One night, he stayed later than usual.

You had lit the lanterns early. A storm was approaching the clouds thick and low, thunder grumbling in the distance. Toshi lingered at the window, watching the rain begin to fall in curtains.

“You can stay here.” You said gently. “Until it passes.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then he sat on the bench by the fire, his profile limned by firelight. You noticed then, his hands were trembling slightly.

“I haven’t felt safe in a storm since I was a child.” He said.

You paused. “Why not?”

He looked into the flames. The silence stretched. “Because everything I love disappears in them.”

Your heart cracked, just a little. You knelt beside him, reached for his hands.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said softly.

And something in him unraveled.

He slept on the cot that night. You left tea by his bedside and shut the door gently. You didn’t sleep much.

The storm passed quietly, by dawn. And when you woke, he was still there. Not gone. Not hidden.

Still there.

——————————————————————————

The sickness arrived slowly. Like rot under a floorboard, hidden at first, but spreading.

You noticed it in small ways.

A child who hadn’t come for cough syrup in days. A man in the market who looked pale despite the heat. Your neighbor, who stopped tending her garden and stayed inside, the windows dark.

Then, one by one, they began to knock at your door.

——————————————————————————

“Toshi, I need more yarrow. Can you grind it?”

“Boil this bark until the water turns dark red. Stir slowly, don’t let it burn.”

“Help me carry her, she’s burning up.”

“Don’t let that one touch the others, it’s spreading.”

You worked until your fingers went numb. You couldn’t stop. Not when old Mrs. Ota couldn’t breathe through the fever. Not when the Kobayashi twins cried from their mother’s bedside. Not when you were the only one in the valley who knew what tincture even meant.

And Toshi, gods, Toshi was there for all of it. He didn’t leave your side for days. Not once.

He ground herbs until his hands blistered. Carried feverish villagers in his arms like they weighed nothing. Learned the names of every root you handed him. Fetched water and wood and wrapped bandages when your hands shook too hard to finish the knot.

But he also watched you.

Every moment. Eyes constantly on you, quiet, tracking the way your shoulders slumped, the way your breath caught, the way you sometimes stood still for just a second too long.

“You need to rest.” He said once, voice low.

You shook your head. “Later.”

“There might not be a later.” He said.

You smiled weak, but kind. “Then I’ll make sure there’s a now.”

He didn’t argue but he looked like he wanted to.

——————————————————————————

Three more days passed.

You stopped counting how many fevers you treated. How many cloths you changed. How many prayers you whispered between clenched teeth.

And then, on the fourth day, you made a mistake.

You hadn’t eaten. You hadn’t slept.

You were leaning over a child’s bed, checking her breathing, when the room tilted. You blinked. Once. Twice. The air narrowed to a tunnel. Your knees went soft and the last thing you saw before your world tipped sideways was Toshi’s face turning toward you, eyes wide, hand reaching out…

Then everything went black.

——————————————————————————

You woke to cool linen against your forehead and a voice low, rough with panic.

“Don’t do that again.”

Your eyes fluttered open.

You were on your own cot. A faint breeze moved through the window. The smell of willow bark tea and rosewater floated in the air.

Toshi was sitting beside you. His eyes always so unreadable, were raw now. His hand was clenched tight around a cloth he was using to dab at your neck.

“You fainted.” He said quietly. “Your pulse was shallow. You weren’t responding.”

You tried to speak, but your throat was dry.

He handed you a cup before you could ask. Helped you sit up slowly. His arm around your back was steady. Solid.

“Did I…?” You whispered, voice hoarse. “Has anyone- ?”

“Everyone’s stable.” He said. “You did more than enough.”

You closed your eyes. Relief washed through you and shame.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured.

He stiffened beside you. “Don’t say that.”

“I was careless.”

“You were exhausted.”

Your eyes met his. “You were scared.” You whispered.

He didn’t answer. But the silence howled with truth.

“I’ve seen people die.” He said finally. His voice was quiet, but his jaw clenched. “I’ve held men as they bled out. I’ve stood in battlefields, I’ve seen sickness take entire villages. But I’ve never-”

He broke off. Looked away. Then whispered, barely audible. “I’ve never felt what I felt when I saw you fall.”

You blinked. Heat rose to your cheeks, but something inside you ached, because his voice didn’t tremble like love. It trembled like fear.

“Toshi…” You started.

“I thought I was too late.” He turned back to you, eyes dark and burning. “And I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything.”

You reached out, slowly, and took his hand. He let you.

You felt the tension in his shoulders, the way his breath hitched once before leveling out. He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“I don’t know what this is.” He said, “but I know it’s the first thing I’ve ever wanted that wasn’t given to me.”

You swallowed hard and, for a moment, you forgot to breathe.

——————————————————————————

That night, the two of you sat outside the shop under the stars. The village was quiet again. Tired, but healing.

He didn’t let go of your hand for hours.

And when you leaned your head against his shoulder, he exhaled slowly, like something in his chest had finally begun to loosen.

But he still didn’t tell you his full name. And you still didn’t ask. Because something told you, if he spoke it aloud, the magic between you might fracture.

So you said nothing. Not yet.

——————————————————————————

The days after your collapse blurred into warmth and quiet.

The village was recovering. Slowly. You still made house visits, still crushed herbs and folded bandages, but now Toshi watched you with a closer eye. Every time your hands trembled, his would steady them. Every time you swayed, he was already there.

But more than that, something had changed between you. He no longer looked away when you caught him staring. You no longer hid the way your breath caught when he reached for you.

It wasn’t spoken. It didn’t need to be.

——————————————————————————

One evening, the air smelled of chamomile and soft wind. The last of the sunset spilled golden across the hills. You and Toshi sat outside, side by side, hands brushing but not quite touching.

He turned to you his face shadowed, solemn, but open in a way you had never seen.

“I don’t know what kind of life you imagined for yourself.” He said. “But if there is space in it… I want to stand in that space.”

Your chest ached.

“I never imagined much of anything.” You said. “But somehow, you’re in all of it now.”

He reached for you then. Not with urgency, but reverence. And when his hand touched your face rough, warm, careful you leaned into it like you’d been waiting all your life.

——————————————————————————

You don’t remember how your feet carried you inside, only the hush between breaths and the trembling gentleness of his hands as he followed.

His touch was unhurried, unpracticed, almost shy. As though he feared he might shatter you if he moved too quickly. You guided him with soft touches, with murmured reassurances. With the truth your body had longed to speak.

When his lips finally met yours, it wasn’t a kiss, it was a vow.

That night, you shed years of loneliness together. You memorized each other in quiet gasps and lingering glances, in the slow brush of fingertips across bare skin, in the ache of holding and being held.

Toshi made love like a man discovering softness for the first time.

Like someone who had never been allowed to want, and now finally could.

After, he lay with you tucked against him, his breath steady against your hair, his arm around your waist like he’d never let go.

And he whispered so softly you almost missed it. “I’ve never been more myself than when I’m with you.”

You smiled against his chest. “Then stay.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I will.”

You believed him.

Until the knight came.

——————————————————————————

It was two days later. You were returning from the river path when you saw the royal crest on the stranger’s cloak, a deep green with silver embroidery. His stallion was war-trained, his armor too pristine for a simple guard.

He was speaking to the baker, brows furrowed. Toshi wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Your chest tightened. You slipped quietly behind the bakery wall and listened.

“…spotted near the border during the ambush. He’s not just missing, he’s avoiding the castle. There’s talk he’s hiding in the southern villages. Have you seen any unfamiliar men?”

The baker mumbled something. The knight frowned.

“He may be using a false name. He’s tall. Broad-shouldered. Scar over his left brow.”

Your breath caught.

A scar.

You stepped back, before turning and running.

——————————————————————————

You found him by the river, just outside the village. He was crouched low, filling a basket with smooth stones, a habit he’d picked up from you. He looked peaceful.

You didn’t feel peaceful.

“Toshi.”

He looked up. Saw your face and stilled.

You dropped the basket in your hands.

“Who are you?”

He stood slowly. “I- ”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Silence.

“My name is Wakatoshi Ushijima.” He breathed out and your world blurred.

You shook your head. “That’s the prince’s name.”

He looked at you and said nothing. As if silence would soften the truth.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Everything you told me was a lie.”

“No.” He said, voice sharp. “Everything I felt was real.”

Your hands curled into fists. “You let me fall for someone who doesn’t exist.”

He stepped forward. You stepped back.

“You don’t understand.” He said, voice strained. “I came here wounded, hiding. But I stayed because of you. Not because of who I was, but because you saw who I could be.”

“I saw what you let me see.” You whispered. “And I trusted you.”

He said your name and you broke.

“You made love to me while lying to my face.”

That stopped him. Like a blow to the chest.

You turned before he could see the tears fall. “Don’t follow me.”

You left him standing in the riverlight, the wind pulling at his cloak, the prince who was never supposed to be yours.

——————————————————————————

The days after the truth fell apart were hollow.

You moved through them like a ghost, hands still grinding herbs, lips still forming words of comfort, but the warmth was gone. Where once your work had been lit by something bright, now it felt like tending wounds in the dark.

You didn’t speak his name. You couldn’t.

The villagers noticed your quietness, of course. Old Mrs. Ota reached for your hand once and said, “Even healers need healing.” You smiled, small and brittle, but you didn’t answer.

At night, when you lay in your cot, your body still remembered him. The shape of his hand at your waist, the way his breath had steadied when you leaned against his chest. You shut your eyes against the memory, but it pressed in anyway.

He had been yours. And yet, not.

——————————————————————————

Far away, in the castle that loomed over the hills, the prince walked its halls with steps that sounded too loud in the silence.

The palace was colder than he remembered. The walls were lined with tapestries, the air thick with incense, but to him, it felt like stone and emptiness. Every bow from a servant, every formal report from a knight, every polite nod from a courtier scraped against him.

He had spent his life being the “Stone Prince.” The man with no feelings. The one who could not be shaken. And yet, now when he stood in the great hall, when he trained in the yard, when he sat at the king’s table he felt only one thing.

Loss.

Your face lingered in every shadow. Your voice threaded through every silence. And for the first time in his life, he hated himself for not being brave enough to give you the truth sooner.

But duty held him. Or maybe it was cowardice. He truly didn’t even know anymore.

He returned to his role, the prince with iron eyes. But inside, his heart bled still.

——————————————————————————

It was nearly a month later when the news reached him.

A messenger arrived breathless at dawn, dust streaking his cloak. Rebels, he said. Armed men from the neighboring kingdom, slipping across the border to raid. The valley had been hit. Villages burned.

Wakatoshi didn’t wait for orders. He didn’t wait for a council meeting or his father’s decree.

The moment he heard your village’s name, something inside him snapped.

He left the castle that night with only his sword and his horse, his fury so sharp it silenced every knight who tried to stop him.

The “Stone Prince” was gone.

This was just a man wild with fear.

——————————————————————————

The village was smoke and ruin when he arrived. The air stank of fire and iron, of fear and broken things. He cut down two rebels on the path before he even dismounted, their blades still red.

“Where is she?” He demanded of every villager he found, grabbing shoulders, scanning faces. “Where is she?”

No one had seen you.

His chest tightened. His hands shook.

Until he heard your voice.

It was faint, strained, coming from behind the wreckage of the old blacksmith’s shop.

You were crouched there, clutching a wounded child to your chest, blood smeared across your face where a rebel had struck you. And even then, even shaking, exhausted, covered in ash you were still fighting to keep someone else alive.

“(Y/n)!”

You looked up. And the world seemed to stop.

He was there. Bloodied, furious, alive.

“Wakatoshi?” Your voice cracked.

You didn’t have time to say more. A rebel lunged from the shadows behind you.

Wakatoshi moved faster than thought. His sword cut clean through the man’s strike, steel clanging, sparks flying. The rebel fell at his feet, and Wakatoshi stood over you, chest heaving.

“I found you.” He whispered, almost desperate. “I found you.”

—

But it wasn’t over. The fighting surged around you both once again. Shouts, steel, fire. Wakatoshi fought like a storm, cutting down every enemy that drew near. He shielded you with his own body, his eyes burning.

But then, one blade slipped through. You saw it before he did.

“Wakatoshi!”

The rebel’s spear caught his side. The impact sent him staggering. He gritted his teeth, tore it free, and felled the man in one brutal strike, but when he turned, blood poured down his ribs.

You scrambled to him, hands catching his shoulders.

“No, no, no- stay with me.” You pleaded, forcing him down before he collapsed.

His eyes found yours. Steady, even now.

“If this is the price.” He murmured, voice rough. “I’ll pay it. To keep you safe.”

“Don’t you dare.” You snapped, tears blurring your sight. “Don’t you dare leave me now.”

You pressed your hands against the wound, herbs and bandages spilling from your satchel as you worked with frantic precision. Your mind spun with remedies, with every scrap of healing knowledge you had. But your heart, your heart screamed, because this was him.

The man who had lied. The prince who had broken you. The only person you still wanted to live.

——————————————————————————

The battle waned. The rebels fled. Villagers began to gather, but you saw none of it. All you saw was Wakatoshi’s pale face, his heavy breath, the weight of his blood on your hands.

“Stay awake.” You begged. “Please, Toshi, please.”

His eyes fluttered. His hand caught yours, holding it tight against his chest.

“You called me Toshi.” He whispered.

“I don’t care who you are.” You cried, pressing your forehead to his. “Prince, knight, liar whatever name you want- I don’t care. Just stay. Please stay. You promised you’d stay with me.”

And in that moment, he smiled. Small. Pained. But real.

“For you.” He said. “Always.”

——————————————————————————

You kept him alive. Through the night, through the fever, through the hours where every breath seemed like it might be his last, you kept him tethered to this world with your hands and your will.

And when dawn came, he opened his eyes again.

You wept into his shoulder. He held you weakly, but held you all the same.

——————————————————————————

The villagers believed the prince had fallen in the raid. Whispers spread that the Stone Prince had been slain defending innocents, that his body had been carried off by the enemy.

But the truth was quieter. Softer.

In the little shop by the hillside, you tended his wounds. You nursed him back to health. And for the first time, he was not a prince, nor a soldier, nor a stone figure for the world to look upon.

He was just a man.

Yours.

——————————————————————————

Weeks later, when he was strong enough to stand again, you walked together through the village fields, hand in hand. The lavender had begun to bloom, and the hills smelled of summer.

“You’ll be missed.” You said softly.

He nodded. “Perhaps. But they will move on.”

“And you?” You asked, glancing at him. “Do you regret it?”

His hand tightened around yours.

“Leaving the crown is not a loss.” He said. “Losing you would have been.”

Your chest ached with love so sharp it almost hurt.

“I thought you had no heart.” You teased gently.

He looked down at you, his expression quiet but certain.

“You are my heart.” He said simply.

And for once, you believed it.

The Stone Prince was gone. But the man he left behind was everything you had ever wanted.

And when the lavender bloomed that summer, he was there to see it with you.

Always.

Tags: @pizzitamia

A soft sigh escaped your lips when you realized you'd have to endure the seventh third-wheeling session of the week.

Watching your friends being all lovey-dovey with each other wasn't something you particulary enjoyed. Don't get it wrong, you were happy for them and glad they had found their soulmates and everything had gone okay, but being ignored is a horrendous feeling that usually leads to feeling undeserving of the attention you aren't recieving.

So even if your friends spent whole hang outs making out and giggling while they whispered in their lover's ears, completely leaving you out, you never protested.

Your friends had apologized some times, promising over and over they'd try to include and acknowledge you more, but by the end of the day they were always blissfully ignoring your existence.

You comforted yourself with the fact that you knew you had a soulmate. The thought someone out there was perfect for you and you were perfect for them was enough to keep you going everytime.

Someone who was as part as you as your own self.

Someone who you shared your essence with, your very soul.

Someone who was waiting to meet you as eagerly as you waited to meet them. Or so you hoped.

But things didn't go like you thought.

__________________Ƹ̵̡⁠Ӝ̵̨̄⁠Ʒ__________________

Hajime Iwaizumi was having another tough day.

To be fair, Oikawa was being twice as annoying as always, and the nerves for the upcoming volleyball match were turning him into a stress-mess.

Plus, his soul mark had started to feel...kinda strange.

Iwaizumi liked to stare at it from time to time. Sometimes when he was alone in his room, or after a match, or whenever life, stress, anger and feelings got too much, he liked to just genuinely see it.

He would sit by himself, roll his sleeve up and pay close attention to the intrincate pattern etched on the underside of his wrist.

Trace the lines, curves and swirls with the tips of his fingers, with only careful and soft touches, as if he feared it would fade away.

But Hajime knew it wouldn't.

That was the mark he shared with his soulmate, wherever they were. The design of their souls, printed on their skins since they were born and staying even after death.

Souls can't divide.

Because your soul doesn't die with your physical form. And neither does the connection that ties you to that special person.

Souls dance among other people's souls, mixing, touching, pulling away and connecting us, searching for their other half.

And when they find it, they collide and fuse, becoming one.

That's why, when Iwaizumi would space out staring at the mark in the solace of privacy, he would always wonder how long would it take to find you.

If he only knew.

__________________Ƹ̵̡⁠Ӝ̵̨̄⁠Ʒ__________________

"It's not fair you get all the attention!"

"That's because I'm more awesome"

Oikawa's cocky remark earned him a slap in the back of the head from Hajime's part and some sighs from their teammates, who knew the thing would only escalate from there.

They were warming up, about to play one of their most important matches.

The squeak of the shoes on the wooden planks and the sound of multiple volleyballs being mersilessly hit and slammed against the floor flooded the gymnasium.

People whispered and chatted as they rushed to get seats, some fangirls screamed and a new born cried while his mother tried to desperatedly soothe them.

Layers and layers of noise, unheard stories, adoring praise, murmurs, and the calls for familiar faces in the crowd, enveloping Iwaizumi welcomingly.

His gaze roamed the stands, passing by faces of kids, adults and old people, all here to see them play, to see him play...

Until he locked eyes with you.

It was completely unexpected, the way your stares met like pulled by some kind of strange magnet.

And then you felt it. And he felt it too.

That tingling sensation that run his soul mark up and down and then up again, electrifying and ticklish.

And the world faded away.

The noise, the lights, the yells and slams and squeaks. It was just you and him.

Him and you, feeling like the physical distance between you wasn't real, wasn't as far as it seemed.

And you both knew it. You knew he'd be yours, and he knew you'd be his.

Forever.

And then the magical moment broke with the loud whistle signaling the start of the match.

__________________Ƹ̵̡⁠Ӝ̵̨̄⁠Ʒ__________________

"Please" Oikawa begged, pushing the bouquet of roses into Hajime with insistance.

"No" he denied in a determined tone, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

Oikawa's chocolate brown eyes pleaded with him, full of desperation as he tried to get his best friend to deliver the flowers and the heart shaped box of chocolate to the girl Tooru was currently in a situation-ship with.

He had meant to give them himself, but coach was calling him for an interview and Oikawa's girl was just about to leave the stadium because she was running late to greet her family at the airport.

So Oikawa had no way of accepting the interview and delivering the gifts at the same time. His only solution was that Hajime accepted bringing the things to her in his place while Tooru attended fame matters.

"Alright." Iwaizumi grumbled in the end, "But you owe me"

Oikawa lit up, nodding eagerly before shoving the bouquet and chocolates into his best friend's arms and sprinting off.

Iwaizumi sighed, furrowing his brows as he started to make his way up up the stands, sorting throught the crowd with "sorry"s and "excuse me"s, ignoring the curious looks and surprised whispers to see him holding such romantical items.

"who was the lucky girl?" People wondered, their eyes trailing on him, following his way higher and higher until he reached the spot where Asami stood, her eyes roaming the place in search of Oikawa as she anxiously tapped her fingers on her lap and checked her watch.

"Asami-san" Iwaizumi called, making the girl turn around to face him, her furrowed brows softening.

"Yeah?" She asked, confusedly eyeing the roses and the heart shaped box, praying Iwaizumi would not confess to her.

"Trashikawa had to run to catch an interview so he asked me to deliver this" he stepped closer and handed her the roses and chocolate.

Asami's eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly in surprise, touched by the gesture, "He's so sweet" she cooed, "Thank you so much, Iwa-chan" she said, gazing up at him.

"You're welcome" he sighed, nodding, and turned his face to the side when she leaned to smell the roses with a love-sick expression, feeling like it was a moment Oikawa should be witnessing, not him.

And when his eyes gazed in the other direction, he was met with a surprised pair of eyes.

Your eyes.

The surprise quickly melted into hurt and his own surprise melted into horror.

You, his soulmate, had just watched him give flowers and chocolate to some random girl.

This wasn't how either of you expected your first meeting to be.

You stared like in trance, your stomach churning and your chest tightening, eyes lingering on her long enough to make insecurity and jealous claw at you.

Of course.

Of course this would happen to you. Not even your soulmate wanted you, and who could blame him?

He was so fine, and the girl just in front of him was so pretty. With perfect, long, shiny hair, gorgeous green eyes and the most striking smile.

So effortlessly flawless, she was.

How could you compare to her?

You weren't special in any way, you didn't stand out in crowds, didn't light up places with your mere presence, couldn't un bring a smile to people's faces with a few sweet words.

Truth is, you couldn't compare.

So you run away.

__________________Ƹ̵̡⁠Ӝ̵̨̄⁠Ʒ__________________

Iwaizumi knew he messed up.

Well, it wasn't enterely his fault, was it? It was Trashikawa's fault.

He had rushed out the gymnasium, praying to catch a glimpse of your hair, of your clothes... A way to get to you.

Where were you? God, why did these things only happen to him?

He finally found you at the back of the building, resting your back against the wall, knees to your chest. Your eyes were closed, as if you were trying to turn the world out.

"Hey..." He said hesitantly, sitting down in front of you.

You furrowed your brows and gazed away, wiping the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes, "go away, please"

He shook his head, "I know what you saw, but it's not like you think..."

"It's alright, really. You don't have to explain it it to me. We are not even dating" you assured.

He wished you'd look at him, "No, really. A friend of mine asked me to give those things to his... Almost girlfriend. I was just delivering. I promise..."

He knew how fake it must have sounded to you.

"Please, believe me. I've been waiting for you all these years, i never even dated anyone before. I've wanted to meet you so bad..." He said gently, the furrow of his brows softening as he hesitantly reached for your hand, his thumb caressing the back of it.

"You can have anyone you want" you said, eyes teary as you looked at him, all the years of insecurity washing over you "Why would you wanna be with me? I'm nothing special..."

He was taken aback, surprised you'd say something like that, "What?"

He let out a sigh and took your wrist gently, lifting it between you two so you could see the soul mark. He lifted his own and held it up besides yours.

"We are soulmates" he said, "There's no one i'd like to be with besides you"

His words were so soft and honest.

It was true he didn't know you yet, but he was sure he would be so in love with you.

The way you moved, the way you talked, how expressive your eyes were. He loved everything about you already, everything pulled him in.

"I think you're the most special person I'll ever meet" Iwaizumi said, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "So please, give us a chance"

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and gestures. He looked so tough and intimidating, but yet he was being so sweet.

You couldn't have wished for someone more perfect to share your soul with, and you couldn't wait to get to really know him, to fall in love with him.

And then, when your eyes met again, you two were sure the other was who you'd want to spend the rest of your life with.

Likes lying on top of you and pressing his face against your chest. Kind of has thing for you chest. Also a thing for squeezing your chest. The size doesn't matter nor does it matter if you've got breasts or pecs, he's just fixated there.

There are times he likes to just bury himself there, mouth attached to your nipple, sucking and licking to his hearts content. Will nip just to play around.

Works the other nipple with his fingers. Sometimes is there for ages ignoring how hard he is in his sweats.

It doesn't matter that he's been leaking pre-cum for ages. He contents himself by thrusting against you every now and again to relieve it.

It's not until your hands thread into his hair, tug at the roots and pull him up that he remembers to continue to the next step. He's a little dazed and starry eyed so bear with him.

Then your hands are on his cock and he's whining, begging for you to make him cum after he's edged himself for so long without even realising it.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

Tsukishima held his cards close to his chest until the moment the confession came and then all of a sudden he's dating you and he's not really sure how to switch to being vulnerable.

His cards don't all come down onto the table right away.

You've sort of got to pry them from him or just wait until he naturally gives them to you (either way he needs little pushes because he's rather stubborn).

He's not overly affectionate and sappy. But will catch you of guard sometimes with soft smiles or stares in your direction.

'What?' You'll ask.

'I'm just looking. Got a problem with that?'

'Not if you give me a kiss.'

'Tch.' Gives you one anyway. And not just some cheap chaste kiss. Puts the whole Tsukki back into it. A big old passionate kiss.

'Happy now?'

'Not quite.'

Rolls his eyes but he's smirking because yeah he's coming in for another kiss. and another and another. The kiss deepens and ohh here comes that tongue at a steady pace. Nice and easy. But oh does it take your breath away.

He can be sweet and a little shit all at once.

Will walk over and bonk you on the head for attention. The second you whip around to scold him he will steal a kiss. Sometimes its on the forehead, other times its the cheek but there's other times its smack bang on the lips.

Pulls away smirking like. 'Hey.'

Punch him honestly, he will just give you another one. Or laugh. Which ever one you don't mind about.

Loves to tease you but really enjoys partners who keep him in check about being a shit or tease him back. Humble him he finds it hot. Will be all 'Tch.' but inside he's like 'Damn, you really can handle me.' Wants to kiss you real bad but won't if it's in public. Just gets all smirky lol.

His love language probably falls more on the quality time side of things. Just being able to hang out and exist together is most important to him.

It doesn't always have to be big dates. He's good with easy hangouts at home with homecooked meals, watching movies together, listening to music and just chilling. Prefers it honestly.

He does, not that he'll admit it out loud, like going out occassionally just to show off that you're together. Kind of has this complex about it. Feels a rush of superiority having been the one to bag you. Drapes an arm around your shoulder or waist proudly, head held high. Ha, you're his.

The complex kind of falls in reverse though in terms of making him feel a little self conscious. Feels like he doesn't deserve you sometimes. Doesn't seek reassurance but tries not to be such an asshole from time to time.

Goes through 'I've gotta be good for you.' Phases. Where he thinks he really needs to be better. You can pick up on it and assure him he's fine, just a little prickly sometimes. 'Aren't we all?'

Huffs when you pepper kisses all over his face to make him feel better. Appreciates it though.

Does appreciate and crave a bit of that physical touch too. Isn't always good at initiating it. Sometimes sits there craving it while staring holes into the back of your head.

That's your cue to climb on into his lap and just hold him and kiss him all over. Nip and suck at his neck to hear those sweet gasps and moans.

His hands will find your waist and hold you tight. That allows you to naturally push down against him. Before you know it the two of you are grinding together.

Exchanging kisses, touches and and dry humping all the way to that sweet friction until that final release. He's not even embarrassed because hey, the both of you got lost in the moment.

The two of you are just crazy about each other.

GOSHIKI TSUTOMU

This guy omg, he flits between hell yeah you're going out with him to wow he can't believe you're actually going out with him. Bear with him alright? He's a bit all over the place emotionally.

The biggest sweetie though. Like, he always has your best interests at heart but is super self sacrificing at the start.

You have to be like boy! You need to tell me what you want too! This relationship is between two people! Please!

Appreciates you so much for it. Takes awhile to get there but is finally to be able start actually breaking that habit and tell you how he's feeling and what he wants to do.

Takes you on cute little dates. Starts wanting to show off in other ways other than just his volleyball skills. (totally compliment him on those btw he will love you forever)

Shows off by taking you to restaurants he thinks you'll like. Really gushes if he is right and you like the food. 'I'm just really good at picking places, I'm so glad you like the food.'

You snort but don't pay it much mind. 'Sure thanks for bringing me.'

You've got to give it to him for at least getting his confidence back right? It's kind of sweet.

Always asks permission to do things, like even the little things, doesn't just do it. 'Can I hold your hand?' or 'Can I hold you.' even 'Can I kiss you.' It's very endearing.

He has a blush on his cheeks every time even after you've been in a relationship for awhile. It's not that he's nervous anymore he's just really excited still. He will always be exited to be with you!

Really wants you to be at his games (if you can). He says it gives him extra strength knowing you're there cheering him on in person. Always asks for a kiss before the match too. It's for luck.

If you can't make it to the game he will ask for two extra kisses for EXTRA luck. Honestly he will just miss you but you don't need to know that. He also just likes kissing you.

The first time he tried to kiss you he accidentally got your nose. Was so embarrassed you had to grab him and kiss him to make him calm down. It didn't calm him down but it made him stop babbling lmao.

His love language is also Word of affirmation so praise that guy! Tell him you appreciate him and that he's the coolest, most talented guy you know.

One time, in bed while you were giving him a handjob you told him that he was the hottest, strongest ace you've ever seen and he let out the loudest moan and came right there and then. You just caressed his face and stroked him through it.

That's how you learnt that words of praise REALLY affected him. Especially in the bedroom. You could be in the middle of making out or having sex and a few praising words will having him moaning and tettering on the edge.

It's fascinating to watch just how quickly his brows knit together and his whines spill out.

Goshiki is very big on reciprocation too. He never likes to leave you hanging if he cums first. A bit of an overachiever too. If he cums once before you, he wants to make you cum twice.

Will spend hours going down on you. Kissing and biting up and down your thighs. Sometimes gets a bit hung up marking you he needs some help getting directions back to the main event.

Kuroo Tetsuro

You fell in love with Kuroo Tetsuro for his quick wit.

Your history of friendship was deeply rooted in your shared banter. Quick barbs exchanged left and right.

And when you both finally get together, your banter increases tenfold. But your exchanges end with a quick kiss instead of a pining smile.

Kuroo was smart, romantic and caring. And your conversations were always dynamic and robust.

But Kuroo was also mean.

Some of his quips went too far.

You knew you were sometimes harsh too, getting caught up in the jest.

Kuroo was the same, and whenever either of you went too far, you both made sure to apologize and make up.

"Kuroo, c'mon drop it."

"I can't!" Kuroo laughs. It's not his usual hyena laugh, it's one laced with derision. It makes something twist in your heart. "How can I ignore the fact that you thought Hemingway was the guy who wrote The Great Gatsby." He laughs again.

"I'm not a lit major, Kuroo." You mutter.

"Me neither! But I'm not an idiot!"

You flinch as Kuroo continues laughing, unaware of your sinking mood.

You're not the smartest in the classroom. Kuroo knows this, all of your friends know this. Nobody gets on your case - in fact, Kuroo is usually leading the charge in helping you study and keeping you from getting down on yourself. But not today.

He seems completely ignorant to the fact that you're now more than aware of how dumb you are. Normally you'd go to Kuroo with these thoughts, but you'd rather just go back to your dorm alone.

"Hey, I'm not feeling too well." You make up the excuse on the fly, not technically lying. "I'm gonna go back and try to get some sleep."

"Yeah, your brain must be pretty over-worked." Kuroo snickers, pleased with his joke. You stand on the sidewalk, trying not to cry.

"Well, I'll see you around."

As you turn away, you feel a gentle hand rub your head. You bask in the comfort, a small smile taking over your lips.

"If you get lost, just call me and I can help you." Kuroo teases, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. It does nothing to quell the thoughts in your head calling you useless.

You don't answer, fearful that a sob would escape past the lump in your throat. But you're able to leave, and only when you're completely sure you're alone do you let the tears that have welled up in your eyes spill over.

"Well, well. Trouble in paradise?"

A snide voice breaks through your thoughts, and your depressing thoughts are quickly replaced with anger. You glance up and find your ex blocking your path on the sidewalk. You wish it was just a happy meeting, but since your nasty split six months ago you've been more than happy to not have crossed paths with him.

And of course he finds you now - tear-stained cheeks and heavy thoughts weighing you down.

"Leave me alone." You mumble, glancing back at the ground before looking for a way around him.

"Oh, don't be like that." Your ex nearly coos, ducking down to your level. "You look upset, and I couldn't help but notice that Kuroo was with you..."

"Shut up." You snap. You level a hard glare, and you're annoyed to see it met with a triumphant sneer. You don't like your ex insinuating that you had just come from a less-than-ideal conversation with Kuroo, even if he was right.

"Guess I'm right." He chuckles, before shaking his head and crossing his arms. "You know, if you just stayed with me you wouldn't have to worry about any of this."

It's your turn to sneer. "Yeah, and I would have loved being with someone who constantly put me down."

Your ex shrugs. "I was just pointing out the obvious. I think it says more about you that you couldn't see it."

You open your mouth (the idea of telling him to fuck off is tempting with every second that passes) but quickly close it. The main reason you left your ex, after a long, tumultuous relationship, was because he constantly belittled you. He emotionally abused you and gaslit you, feeding you lies upon lies. And who were you to think otherwise? He loved you, you trusted him. You didn't think he was lying, he was just being honest.

For too long you had dealt with his deception, thinking that he only mean to help you grow. For too long you ignored the wishes of your friends, their pleas falling on your deaf ears. For too long did you go crying to Kuroo when your ex's words were laced with too much venom, and truly believing that you were worthless.

It had taken inner strength, support and love for you to finally see your ex for the manipulative asshole that he was, and when you left it was the greatest day in your life.

Maybe second, compared to the day where Kuroo confessed his feelings for you.

Now, you frown. Because thinking of your boyfriend brings none of the joy you felt on that fateful day. Because today, Kuroo was saying the exact same thing that your ex told you.

Idiot. Dumb. Worthless.

Maybe it's all that you are.

"Hey, get the fuck out of here."

Your head snaps up, finding Kuroo striding up to you and your ex. He doesn't waste any time in standing in front of you, facing your ex and giving him a dirty look.

"I didn't do anything," you ex replies. "I was walking and she came onto me and -"

"I'm not even going to try and think that she would do that." Kurro interrupts. Anger flashes in his eyes as he takes a step closer to your ex. "Now do everyone a favor and fuck off."

Kuroo holds your ex's gaze, both clearly seizing up the situation. You hover closely behind Kuroo, ready to grab him if it becomes violent.

Your ex scoffs and shakes his head. His eyes find you and he gives you a leering smile. "Think about what I said, but don't hurt yourself." He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Kuroo and you alone.

Kuroo doesn't turn to you yet, his eyes still watching your ex's retreating figure. You clear your throat, adamant on clearing the air. "I didn't do anything, I swear."

"I know." Now Kuroo turns around, and a hand gently comes up to hold your cheek. You lean into the touch, seeking his warmth. "I'm sorry he came up to you. I should have been here."

You shrug. "Let's just forget about it, okay?"

Kuroo doesn't agree with you, instead peering at you. "What did he say to you?"

You blink before quickly shaking your head. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Kuroo argues. His thumb caresses your face. "He said something to upset you, and I want to know what he said."

"It's not like it's anything you haven't said." You mutter before thinking better of it. When you realize what you said you freeze. Kuroo's hand on your face stills.

"Have I -" Kuroo asks, faltering. His hesitancy makes you look at him, and you see devastation on his face. "Have I said something like that to you?"

Kuroo looks truly distraught, and while you wish you could sweep this entire day and your feelings under the rug, you can't. You owe it to your boyfriend to be honest.

"I mean," you quietly start. "You called me an idiot today. And you know that he always told me I was dumb. So." You leave the sentence hanging. It feels wrong to find the similarities between Kuroo and your ex, but they now unfortunately exist.

And it's one thing to have someone say terrible things about you, but for two people...Especially from someone who loves you...And -

"YN, c'mon get out of your head." Kuroo brings another hand to your face. He holds you gently, and he looks at you with such tenderness that your heart clenches.

"I'm sorry," he says earnestly. "I'm so so sorry that I said that. I was just joking, but I should have never said that. You aren't an idiot, you're not stupid, and if I have to tell you every day to prove it I will. I'll rent billboards and hire skywriters to tell you."

His promise makes you smile, it's uniqueness unlikely and yet 100% practical, given the man in front of you. You know he would go the distance to make you smile, to prove his love and devotion to you. He's been the one right by your side, constantly bringing you up and pushing you to go further.

You bring your arms up and hug Kuroo, wanting to comfort him and seek comfort yourself. His arms move from your face to come around and bring you in close.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs again.

"It's okay," you reply. And you know it is. It maybe took some time for you and Kuroo to come back to this moment, longer than your normal apologies for quick and mean quips. But what's more important is that you came back together, understanding each other a little bit better.

Sawamura Daichi

One of the best things about dating Sawamura Daichi was that he listened.

And he really listened. Didn't wait for his turn to talk so he could contribute to the conversation, he remembered what you said.

Whether it was about your favorite flavor of ice cream or how condescending your history teacher is.

He'll even bring up memories from years ago, of little jokes or stories you told him.

It means to world to you, because a lot of people don't care to hear what you have to say.

But Daichi does.

"Daichi are you listening?"

You've been trying to tell your boyfriend about your day, but he's barely acknowledged you. You know he's tired from practice, but he usually perks up when you tell your stories.

He hums now, a weak affirmative to answer your question. It does nothing to make you feel better.

But you decide to go on anyway. It's a funny story of Nishinoya riling up your history professor, and despite Nishinoya's antics usually causing Daichi's heart rate to rise, he secretly enjoys hearing about it.

"So anyway, you wouldn't believe -"

"Y/N," Daichi cuts off harshly. "I'm sorry but I just don't have the energy to deal with you right now."

You immediately clam up, but not before shooting a look at Daichi. He looks exhausted, but you cant help but think that he didn't have to ask you to stop like that. Like you were something nasty to be dealt with.

The walk back to your shared neighborhood is silent. It's stifling, despite the fresh air around you. You soon get to the fork in the road, the usual spot where you and Daichi split off. You slow down, waiting for Daichi to say "good bye." But he keeps walking, leaving you behind on the sidewalk.

"Bye." You call out tentatively. You get a hand wave in return.

A wave. From your boyfriend. Who usually insists on walking you to your door and kissing you good bye.

You're not sure how long you stand there on the sidewalk, wondering how long you've been a burden, before walking home.

~~~

Daichi stands on the sidewalk, watching the time pass on his phone. He's waiting for you, before walking to school, but you're nowhere to be found, and you're not answering his calls.

Frankly, it's the last thing he needs right now. He had a terrible day yesterday, a grueling practice with extra laps thanks to the juniors goofing off, and part of him still isn't convinced he's not coming down with a cold. Last night he came home and went straight to bed. He nearly slept through his alarm this morning, and if his mom didn't yell at him to get up, he would have slept through the morning.

So he had to rush to get changed, cram some toast down his throat and sprint out the door to pick you up in time.

Daichi was adamant about seeing you, knowing it would make the rough start to this day better. He admits that he was a bit short with you yesterday, and you didn't deserve any of that. He could rationalize his behavior yesterday forever, list all the reasons why he had a bad day, but it won't change anything. Daichi can find you now, apologize, and make it all better.

His phone now vibrates, and he quickly opens the message from you.

Already at school.

Daichi stares down at the short message. No emojis, no 'love you!'s, nothing.

The sight of it makes something unpleasant curl in Daichi's stomach. It's not like you. It's not like you at all. Were you really upset? Were you punishing him?

He sighs, pockets his phone, and makes his way to the school. There's only one way to get to the bottom of this.

~~~

You're being a dumb coward.

You don't think your hiding place on the stairwell by the locker rooms is great by any standards, but you don't really care. You have Nishinoya running interference for you in case Daichi asks where you are, and you're certain that he can hold Daichi up.

Why don't you want to talk to Daichi? It's pretty self-explanatory. It's the same reason you left your house this morning without walking with your boyfriend, or why you hid out in your classroom at break instead of wandering to the third-year's floor to find Daichi.

You're scared. You can't deal with running into Daichi again only to have him shun you or metaphorically push you away. In doing so, it will only solidify the truth that you're a burden to him.

It's stupid, because you know you're a burden. To your family, to your teachers, classmates. Daichi is the only person who made you feel better than that. He constantly validated your feelings, gave you the space to list your frustrations, and ensured that you were worth the time and energy and love.

But yesterday was the proof you needed. Daichi pushing you away, telling you he couldn't deal with you, was the solidified truth that you're worth nothing.

But you can't fathom the thought of facing him now. You can't bear hearing the words come from his mouth. Hear him explain why he hates you and why no one will ever love you and -

"Y/N!"

You jump at the noise and the sequential clanging of someone stomping up the metal stairs. When that someone turns out to be Daichi, you quickly stand and quickly throw your books in your bag.

"Y/N, stop!" Daichi calls exasperatedly. "I want to talk!"

You don't trust yourself to speak, and you also curse yourself for having to gather your bag. Why didn't you leave it in your locker?

"Y/N." Daichi comes to a stop and crouches down in front of you. You can hear him panting heavily. "Y/N I've been looking all over for you."

"Sorry," you manage to get out. You elect not to look at him, unsure of whether or not you'd burst into tears as soon as you met his gaze.

"Y/N, can you just look at me?"

The subtle irritation in his voice indicates that he's trying very hard to stay calm. But to you it’s like he’s screaming in your face. Your fight-or-flight instinct is telling you to run away now.

A hand grabs your arm, and you violently flinch away. It didn’t hurt at all, but it scared you.

Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me.

A quiet gasp makes you look up, and you’re met with Daichi’s crestfallen look.

“I would never hurt you.” He whispers gently. You want to look away when you realize you spoke out loud, but the pain in your boyfriend’s face keeps you rooted.

“Y/N,” Daichi says quietly. “Are you scared of me?”

He sounds so sad, so heartbroken that it propels you to grab his hand. “No,” you reply. “I just don’t want to be a burden, and I don’t want you to feel like you always have to listen to me, and I’m sorry if -“

Strong arms pull you into Daichi’s chest, and the familiar embrace nearly makes you weak.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Daichi murmurs. “I’m sorry I was short with you yesterday.” A hand comes up to soothe your hair, and you relax into the touch. “And I’m sorry that you think you’re a burden. You’re not to me, not at all.”

It’s funny, you think. His tone, and the way he holds you, is exactly what you needed to calm your thoughts. Part of you feels stupid, because why do you need validation from someone else when you can easily tell yourself the same thing? But another part, a much larger part, knows that it’s okay to ask for love and respect, and not feel ashamed for needing it. It doesn’t make you any less valuable.

And finding someone, like Sawamura Daichi, who can give you that love and respect tenfold, makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

You don’t argue with Ushijima often.

Mainly because he’s direct and sees no need in playing games.

It’s a huge relief to you, coming from relationships where previous partners would mess with you.

Not Wakatoshi - he’s adamant about clearing up any miscommunications.

But sometimes, he’s so blunt you feel like he doesn’t even care to understand where you’re coming from, or what you’re feeling.

It’s frustrating.

“Toshi, you’re not listening to me at all.”

“I am.” Your stoic boyfriend stands before you in your shared apartment. You feel bad for ambushing him as soon as he came home from volleyball practice, but you’re fed up.

“All I asked was for one night, or even an afternoon where we can hang out.” You implore. “I just -“

“Think that we haven’t had any time together, yes.” He parrots back in his deep voice. “You told this to me this morning at approximately 7:46 when I was leaving for volleyball practice.”

You groan in frustration. “Ushijima, I get that you have a freaky brain that can memorize everything, but you just don’t understand where I coming from.”

“I do understand.” Your boyfriend steps further into the kitchen, his athletic bag hanging off his shoulder. “You said -“

You slam down the dish ware in your hand. The clacking cutlery echoes in the apartment, cutting of whatever Ushijima was going to say. You feel bad for your reaction, but you're even more upset over how unaffected Ushijima is.

He doesn’t seem to care about your feelings. How lonely you’ve been since moving to a new city with him so he can pursue his dreams. How hard it’s been being away from your family and friends. And you don’t think you’re asking for much - just one freaking date out of the house. But with his extra practices and strategy meetings and sponsorship opportunities, you’ve spent more time alone in the apartment.

The feelings have manifested into this ugly weight on your chest, and your boyfriend disregarding everything you’ve been saying is just pushing down on that weight.

“Forget it.” You mutter now. You take the cutlery to set it on the table, leaving Ushijima in the kitchen.

Before you get far, a hand grabs your arm.

“You’re upset.” He’s not asking a question, but his tone is unfamiliar. Apprehensive and small.

“Yes.” You reply tiredly.

Rarely does Ushijima show emotion - not by choice but just by who he is. But now you see the smallest amount of hurt spread across his face. You’re shocked into silence.

“Please talk to me.” If you thought you were surprised by Ushijima’s face, it’s nothing compared to the surprise you feel at the utter sadness laced in his tone. “Help me understand. I can’t,” he pauses, and if you hadn’t been dating Ushijima since your school days at Shiratorizawa, you wouldn’t have known that he’s trying hard to keep his emotions in check. “I don’t want you to be upset. Please.”

He’s staring at you, eyes nearly begging for understanding. And you don’t see your boyfriend, the Ace of the Schweiden Alders before you now.

You see a small boy who has to watch his parents drive themselves apart with little regard for their son. You blink, and now it’s Ushijima Wakatoshi, not the Ace of the Schweiden Alders, but your boyfriend who wants to do better than his parents, do better by you.

You don’t hesitate to bring him into your arms and hold him close. You feel him breath out against your neck, and his arms tighten around your back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “We’ll talk over dinner, okay? Together.”

Ushijima nods, and arms wrap around you even tighter.

Together, you think, the word bringing a sense of calm to your mind and heart. Together.

END