#hqlabels

no wonder she didn’t come. “brush your teeth real quick and then you can go back to talk to him.”

she runs to her room and sets her bear down on the bed. 

“daddy, i’ll be right back!” she shouts into the phone.

when she comes back, she hops onto the step stool. you glance over to make sure she squeezes the right amount of toothpaste onto her toothbrush. sometimes she squeezes too much. there’s globs of it on the floor or in the sink. you find out too late about the ones on the floor when you end up stepping on it. 

both of you trust her. she’s very self-sufficient in her morning and bedtime routine.

sora finishes brushing and rinses her mouth before the water drains completely. “ciao, mamma!”

it’s taking so long because she loves baths. after you wash her, she’ll play with the bubbles and toys in the tub until her fingers become wrinkly like raisins. it’s when she starts looking at her hands non-stop, signifying bathtime is over.

after cleaning the tub, you grab the hairdryer and walk to your daughter’s room.

it’s a daily habit of him calling every day, at the same time to say good night and good morning. although, he won’t tomorrow since he’s coming home. the two of you are picking him up.

your daughter’s jumping on the bed holding the phone when you enter her room. 

sora continues to count. “17… 18… 19… 20!”

these calls are meant specifically for her. it’s what she considered daddy and her time. 

you’ve already talked to him earlier in the day.

“yes, yes, we know you can count to 20.” she’s proud of it everytime. you can barely see the screen clearly due to her still bouncing up and down.“ come here, sora, let me dry your hair.”

she stops to sit on the edge of the bed and you reach over to mute the phone while you quickly dry your daughter’s hair. the whole time she’s making funny faces at her dad who in return does the same.

you run your hand through her jet black hair to make sure it’s dry prior to turning off the dryer and unmuting the phone. “okay, done.”

when you leave the room to put the dryer back, she’s already jumping on her bed again.

“silly, you won’t wake up tomorrow morning,” her dad says.

you make a trip to the bathroom and then outside to double check the lights are off.

upon returning to her room, sora’s lying in bed.

she’s burnt out the last bit of her energy.

“daddy, what are we doing tomorrow?”

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow. you should go to sleep.”

when you sit at the bottom of the bed and lean against the wall, she moves over and lays her head in your lap.

the fine and soft strands of sora’s hair fall through your fingers. 

“good night, daddy,” your daughter yawns sleepily. her little hand lets go of the phone and she snuggles up to the teddy bear.

“night, blueberry.”

at the sound of her even breathing, you rest your eyes for a few minutes.

a distinct throat clearing could be heard from under the covers.

having caught it, your eyes pop open to search for the phone. “oh, i’m so sorry, love.” 

your daughter’s bear is on top of it.

a baseball cap shields a pair of dark blue eyes, the same as your daughter’s, peering at you through the screen. 

“i thought you or her hung up.”

he frowns, “i didn’t even talk to you yet.”

“we talked earlier.” at certain times, you hate conversing this way. it makes you miss him even more, especially the days before he’s coming back.

“i miss you.” you stroke your daughter’s hair. “she misses you.”

tobio coughs, “so peaches misses the blueberry.”

your nose wrinkles at hearing the god awful nickname. “they still don’t go together.”

your daughter loves both mixed together in smoothies, but you only like them separately.

“then why’d you marry me?” he jokes.

he’s asking the question a couple years too late.

“gee, maybe i shouldn’t have,” you whisper.

he notices your change of tone. “why are you whispering?”

“because i’m in our daughter’s room.” on top of it, you don’t want her to hear and get the wrong idea if she’s half awake. “i need to go get ready for bed.”

tobio blurts out, “move out there with me.”

he asked every time he’s about to come back to you. you know you should be with him, but adding another major life change is very difficult. he’s used to it, you aren’t, which is why he didn’t want to spring it on you all at once since you’re already on the fence about your job. 

“i don’t think it’s a good idea. plus, my parents wouldn’t jump on board.” you glance around your daughter’s room. “what are we going to do with this place?”

the place full of memories where you and him lived before he moved to italy. 

she’s still really young, but it’s where your daughter grew up.

the fact he also didn’t bring everything with him means he didn’t want to let it go. 

he looks away from the screen for a second. “sell it. wait, no… keep it, so we have somewhere to stay when we visit.”

“who’s going to take care of it when we’re not here?”

“my in-laws,” he suggests, whom he’s sure won’t mind.

your parents are not going to housekeep. “it’s a trip for them and they can’t fix things if it needs maintenance.”

he thinks for a moment. “we can hire someone, ask a friend, or you can go back monthly with sora.”

“but none of our friends will housesit-”

“we’ll figure it out, as long as you come back to me.”

you trace the outline of his face on the screen. “i’ll think about it, but isn’t this setup fine?”

your husband’s mouth tightens into a thin line. you’re not listening to what he’s saying.

“it’s been this long already. i don’t know why you want to change it up all of a sudden,” you add. “my family’s here.”

they give you all the support you need, not to mention your friends and his.

you brush away the hair covering your daughter’s sleeping face to the side and gently move her off your lap onto her pillow.

kageyama makes the trip back every two weeks. he wastes time flying to and from. the cost isn’t the problem. well, it is. it’s money he can put away or spend on the two of you. most importantly, it’s the precious time he loses with his family. 

with you and his daughter.

he’s received pictures and videos from you and your family, but it’s not the same as being there in person.

“both of you should be with me.”

they look down at teleworking at your job, meaning you will have to quit and look for a new one if you move. 

the few times you did, when you went to visit tobio with your daughter, you got the evil eye when you returned to the office. no matter how well or great you were at your job, they said you were setting a bad example for other departments. they eventually gave you the ultimatum and said you had to go back and couldn’t telework anymore. if you didn’t, you’d lose your job. the last thing you wanted was to be let go over something stupid.

if you’re leaving, it's on your own accord.

you leave your daughter’s room and close the door. when you get back to yours, you sit down on your side of the bed. “do you know how long it takes to find a new job?”

your resume hasn’t been updated in a long time. something you’ve put off. you weren’t great at interviews. others always had a lot to say and spoke very highly of you, but you didn’t like selling yourself. 

“it’s been five years, no? it’s time.” he doesn’t understand why you’d stay at a place where an employer treats their employees with disrespect. he knows this better than anyone. if you’re looking for growth, you need to switch it up to keep moving forward.

the idea of leaving your current job crosses your mind many times. the work is getting on your nerves. the audacity of the higher ups saying you’re a bad apple when you’re far from it. 

it’s what happens after you leave, worrying you. how long will it take you to find one. you don’t want to solely rely on him.

“so update your resume. you can find any job over here.” he knows you’re capable of anything. you don’t even need to work, but he’s aware you can’t stay-at-home. it’ll drive you crazy.

“it’s not that easy.”

he shrugs, “sure, it is.” 

“there’s nothing to do there.” you’ve been there and done everything all the times you made the trip out to him. “our daughter-”

he blinks a few times, not sure if he heard you correctly. “there’s plenty to do there.”

his daughter only cares to be with both parents.

he knows you worry about sora. you can stay home with her until she’s ready for preschool or school. you can also find a part-time. hire a nanny.

“i can’t speak the language.”

“if i can learn it, so can you.” now you’re making up excuses. unbeknownst to you, he’s teaching sora bits and pieces and tells her to speak to you in italian to annoy you. no, but to give you the little push you need. “i can teach you.”

you laugh, “from your track record in school?”

“i… this has… it’s not…” flustered, he didn’t know how to answer.

after your giggles die down to a red-faced husband, you reassure him, “i’m kidding. i haven’t had a good laugh in a while.”

“have you even thought about it?” 

you have. perhaps it’s time for a change in scenery.

there’s a faint announcement about his flight starting to board.

he gets up from the seated waiting area. “i have to go.”

he had to plan the flights, so it didn’t interrupt his daughter’s set schedule. as for the upcoming morning call, he would be seeing her in person instead.

“the connecting flight?”

he nods, “yes.”

“i’ll see you at the airport in the morning.”

“ti amo.”

“i love you too.”

he sighs, “say it back.”

you pause. “no.”

“repeat after me, dum-“

you roll your eyes and hang up on him.

☆

tobio packs lightly, since some of his belongings are still at your shared place in japan. he only stays for a day or two and heads back. two weeks later, he goes through the same process. 

again.

however, this time he’s planning on bringing you both back with him. 

with his bag out of the overhead compartment, he’s waiting his turn to get out into the aisle and off the plane.

kageyama’s flown so many times he’s racked up a boatload of miles. you, without a doubt, had a ton too. he wouldn’t be surprised if the attendants recognize him aside from what he’s known for.

he thanks the flight crew before he steps off the plane into the bridge. 

when he goes through the gate, he searches for you. 

the face he thinks about before and after matches. 

the one, along with his daughter’s, on his lock and home screens of his phone. 

the person he wants to see before and after matches.

the one he wants to see when he wakes up and when he goes to bed. 

the person that’s always there to reassure him.

the one he fell in love with.

he misses the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. he knows you hate it, but he loves every part of you. 

he sees you busy whispering into sora’s ear. 

it’s his daughter who catches sight of him. “daddy!”

you put her down and slowly walk towards him while she runs into his waiting arms. she whispers something into his ear and he picks her up and twirls her around. 

“mi sei man-manca- i don’t remember the rest, daddy,” sora pouts.

“mancato.”

he holds her in his left arm and opens his other arm open for you to which you hurry into.

you bury your face into his chest, mumbling, “you’re confusing her.”

wrapping the arm around you, your husband kisses the top of your head. “i’m not.”

your daughter leans over and pats you on the head. 

“i told him, mamma.” she claps her hands with glee. “we’re leaving with daddy!”

tobio gives your waist a squeeze. “is it true?”

you put in your letter of resignation effective immediately before you left for the airport. “we can go get my stuff today.”

sora grins, "ti voglio bene, mamma.”

And meet the right people? He did – as he thinks about how the MSBY Jackals all treat him well and with love despite his uglier parts and he thinks about you, grumpy and sleepy in the bed next to him before he goes for mornings runs.

But sometimes he explodes. He explodes and collapses in on himself and even the people who treat him with such love and care gets caught in the downfall and he isn’t a stranger to see the hurt flash in your eyes when he reacts outwardly and hits you with venom.

It wasn’t even your fault, really. He’d gotten a call from his mother earlier that day, already clouding up his mind with irritableness and the experience of an itch he wanted to scratch to blood. It’s game season but practice had gone like shit, none of his hits making any sense and he needed to do way more penalty dives than he thought was necessary for a pro volleyball player.

So when he got home and you’d emptied his dishwasher for him but put the forks and spoons in the wrong place, he couldn’t hold back the bile that’d been steadily growing in his esophagus throughout the entire day and spat it out right onto your own, unsuspecting face.

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that he met you and you made him think he was anywhere near worthy of your love. It’s not fair to you that he’s so difficult and spoiled and narcissistic and has a tendency to spiral into this gooey, dark mess of a person.

So here he is, by the riverbank, reconsidering every life choice he’s ever made and reminded of all the angry, disappointed sentences thrown at him when he was younger and suddenly he realizes something,

They were all right about him.

He clicks his tongue and fists his hand into the grass beneath him, only then realizing that he’s willingly placed himself on the ground. Him, on the ground.

He does a breathing exercise – one that you taught him, seven in, hold for six and nine out- it’s supposed to help, right?

“You’re doing great,”

He’s thrown out of his concentration by the warmth of your voice next to him, the gentleness in your voice so easily spotted and so easily embracing him – he’s relaxing his shoulders instantly.

“My boss yelled at me today,” you start, situating yourself comfortably on the grass, “but then at lunch, it was Margot’s birthday. She pulled me aside after the cake and told me our boss is full of crap,” you laugh and Sakusa realizes what you’re doing, “I also met a dog after I got out of the supermarket! I was allowed to pet it and it was so nice, wanted to lick my face so bad.”

You reach out a hand tentatively towards his, “how was your day?”

Sakusa sighs and retracts his hand from the grass. He ignores his own grimace at the action,

“I’m not a good person.”

You hum and place both your hands on your lap, “and I’m not… easy, or lovable. I wasn’t a lovable single and I am definitely not a lovable boyfriend.”

For a while you don’t say anything and Sakusa’s not sure what else to tell you.

“The first time we met, you told me I smelled like shit.”

Sakusa winces and while he’ll never admit it, he’s currently fighting to hold back tears – keep them behind his lash line and safely stored away. Letting them drop was not an option, “and the second time we met you asked Komori why he’d brought me.”

You laugh at these memories and Sakusa wants to yell – he wants to get up and scream at the top of his lungs that you need to leave him, that he didn’t turn into the palatable adult everyone wanted him to become and that his intricate made-up rules is clearly affecting how this relationship is going to go, how you deserve someone so much better, but then you add, “but the third time we met was on the crowded train, where you noticed my panic attack. You got me out of the train and helped me calm down and then you walked me home.”

“Remember the fourth?” you ask after a moment of silence and dumbfounded, he can only shake his head, still unable to look directly at you, “you came to my place the day after with some snacks and a Ghibli movie, telling me how Whisper of the Heart always makes you feel like it’s going to be okay. You’d spent 45 minutes in the convenience store choosing snacks because you didn’t know which I liked,”

You sigh out and a nostalgic smile graces your features, your lips reaching your eyes at this point. Sakusa’s always loved that smile. “The other day you made me a cup of tea when I stressed about that meeting and you didn’t even reprimand me for not rinsing my plate after dinner. Yesterday, you didn’t come after me for not hanging my towel on the rack to the left of the sink.”

You reach for his hand again and this time, though with a flinch, he lets you take it. He notices how warm it is compared to his and he thinks he must’ve sat out here for a while before you came after him. You always did know how to handle his outbursts. Give him time to cool down and then talk,

“I love you, Kiyoomi. I don’t want you to change – not for anyone but especially not for me. I fell in love with the Omi who gags at public toilets and groans loudly when I even think about skipping a shower for being too tired. I fell in love with the Omi who has a very valid need to have things a certain way, who offers me some structure in my own life just by upholding his own. I fell in love with the Omi who motivates me to do better, to be better, because he’s such a wonderful and deeply lovable person that sometimes I can’t even wrap my head around it. And Omi?” you squeeze his hand and he finally gathers the courage to raise his head – albeit only a little.

“I also fell in love with the Omi who lets me into his space so openly, who makes room for me and happily obliges for cuddles when I’m needy, who’s attentive to my needs and makes me laugh so hard my stomach hurts. Who takes care of me and loves me despite my own flaws.”

You lean in and rest your forehead against his, “flaws are something we all have and I don’t love you despite your ugly parts, I love you with them.”

There’s silence as Sakusa processes your words, overwhelmed by the sheer sincerity he felt in your voice.

“I kinda went on a rant, sorry.”

He laughs then, laughs hoarsely and squeezes your hand back. It’s not until you reach up to wipe a tear from his cheek that he realizes that he failed in holding them back, letting out another nervous laugh, “those sounded like wedding vows,” he jokes and you smile mischievously, “it was really good too! Maybe I should write it down for the future,” you joke and a blush creeps up to his ears at the implications of your words. You lean in and gently give him a peck on his lips, “you’re allowed to react outwardly, that doesn’t make you a bad person. You can’t scare me away with you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go home.”

humming, who’s humming? you looked around, searching for the source of the melody you’ve come to know so well. a flash of red, disappearing as soon as you noticed it. 

“tori?” you suppressed a laugh, “come on, i know it’s you.” 

gentle hands covered your eyes, a warm presence behind you. “guess who~?” the mystery person sang. 

“tendou satori,” you said confidently, putting your hands on his wrists, “the love of my life.”

“correct! it’s me!” he turned you around so that you’d be facing him, “but i’m the love of your life?”

your smile dropped temporarily as you playfully glared at him. “no, toshi is. have you seen him?” you looked around him for the ushijima that wasn’t there for good measure. it was only when you decided that he had been pouting for long enough that you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling yourself to him, and breathed, a smile tugging once more at your lips, “yes, silly. you’re the love of my life.”

his face broke out in a wide smile, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, but what he said next was lost in the folds of your memory.

your eyelids fluttered open, blinking groggily to shake the lingering sleep from them. “sh-t…” you muttered, turning onto your back, your forearm against your eyes. a few straggling tears slipped down from the corners of your eyes as you laid there for a while. not that dream again.

there was a knock on your door. 

you held your breath. what bad timing, you thought. maybe if you didn’t answer, maybe if you made it seem like no one was home, they would leave. a moment passed and they knocked again. you hesitated, stalling, waiting for them to leave. another knock, but it was more urgent this time. your name was called through the pounding of the door. your breath hitched. 

you knew this voice. 

finally, you crawled from under the blankets of your bed and shuffled to the door, praying that you were wrong, that you had hallucinated the whole thing, that if anything it was another salesman trying to sell you his product. you opened the door partially and peeked through. 

“Y/N! oh… y/n… have you been crying?” his voice broke, eyes softening at your pitiful state. you could tell he was struggling, from the way his arms reached toward you and flinched back to his side again, to decide if it would be allowable for him to take you in his arms and whisper that everything was going to be okay like he used to. so you rubbed at your eyes and shook your head, a sniffle unfortunately saying quite the opposite.

“tor- tendou. what are you doing here?”

he was taken aback, as if he’d been asking himself the same thing on his way here. 

a moment passed and you both stood there, silent, watching the other. your heart slammed against your chest, pounding at your rib cage like some monster demanding to be let out. you were still trying to process that he was here, at your door, but you forced a cool stare. it was all you could muster at this point.

“i think your smile when it reaches your eyes is the most beautiful,” he said at last, deflecting the question, the words falling from his mouth by habit. he lifted a finger to your cheek, but you backed away.

“tendou…” you sighed, turning your head away, “you broke up with me, remember?” you tried to close the door, but he was quicker, slamming his foot in the shrinking crack to keep the door open. you couldn’t ignore the pang in your chest, the glimmer of hope blinking ever so brightly in your heart. 

“y/n,” he pleaded, “just hear me out?” his red hair laid flat against his forehead and he looked at you with his sad crimson eyes, the darkness of his eye bags a startling deep purple. “i’ll try to make it worth your time.”

you opened the door again, wider this time, but stood in the doorway so that he couldn’t see how pathetic you’ve been. you were acutely aware of the empty ramen cups lying on top of the drawer by your bed and littered all across the floor. no, you had to show him that you weren’t as hurt as you actually were. you had to prove that you were okay, that you could do just fine without him… right?

“can i come in?”

you faltered. yes, your body screamed, please. but you shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, “just say what you have to out here.” blunt and painful. you grimaced.

oh how you hated this. 

he stared at you but helplessly nodded, “okay. i understand.”

he looked down at his shoes. your eyes followed and it took everything for you not to gasp. 

he wasn’t wearing any. 

his socks were muddied and soiled. a roar of thunder boomed, reminding you of the happening storm. your gaze trailed back up to his face, stopping at his soaked through shirt and the water that dripped from the strands of his hair. 

“actually, wait here,” you directed, “let me get you a towel,” and let the door close. 

he obeyed, sheepishly rubbing his foot against the other’s ankle. when you returned, you handed him two towels — warm — they were just in the dryer after all. the small one he used to dry his hair and the other wrapped around his shoulders.

“where are your shoes?” 

“ah… must’ve lost them in the rain.”

“sandals?”

he nodded, awkwardly avoiding your eyes. you shrugged, pretending not to care.

“anyways, you were saying?” you were nervous — insanely nervous. you crossed your arms and uncrossed them again, letting them hang at your side before you eventually decided to keep them crossed again. 

clearing his throat, he opened his mouth but closed it again, unsure of what to say. you stared at him expectantly.

“para- no, y/n…” he wrung his hands together, “i can’t do this.”

“you can’t do what?”

“i can’t be away from you.” his answer was timid, quiet, so faint that you shouldn’t have heard it, but you did. loud and clear.

you opened your mouth to speak but he didn’t give you a chance to.

“i couldn’t get you out of my head. you’ve never even been to my house but everything there reminds me of you. the letters, the plates. and when i thought about you moving on and finding another person… i… i hated it. i hated the thought of it. i don’t want to be replaced. and i don’t want anyone to replace you. everything we did together, everything we could do together, i want it to be with you. i only want you.”

he paused to smile bitterly.

“i thought that by breaking up with you, i’d let you be free and that i wouldn’t chain you here. your dreams, i have no right to take them away from you, but please…”

tears blurred your vision and you hoped he couldn’t tell that you were close to crying again, to giving in. focusing on the light above you, you willed them not to fall, to push through just a few more minutes.

“you feel like home, y/n. like my… my paradise.”

you choked back a sob.

“i can’t lose that. can we… try us again?”

tagging @iwaso bc i luv u

post-notes: open ending on purpose :3 hope this was good :,)

He didn't have the heart to throw them away too. Actually, he didn't even open them. Somehow, Aran thought his large hands might be too clumsy and accidentally ripped the intricately folded papers.

"That's beautiful work," Shinsuke said one morning, watching him put the newest crane into the small box at the end of the locker, where he kept them safe.

"Why don't you open them?" Shinsuke asked bluntly, looking over to the group of second and third girls coming into the school chatting up the Miya twins.

"Someone put their effort into this and it's not nice to know that you don't appreciate what's written there…give it a thought."

"I don't want to rip them," Aran confessed.

He paused and followed Kita's gaze, resting on you, squeezing your way through the crowd carrying a stack of books for the first period. He considered for a moment, helping you carry them for you, despite being in different classes, but Atsumu was quicker.

"I'll help you L/N-senpai," he said eagerly like a puppy and hurried to his locker to change his shoes. You tried to protest that you were able to carry them by yourself.

Aran shook his head, glanced at the box, and resumed answering Kita.

"You know… I really do appreciate the cranes…but like I really don't want to rip them…so I don't know…would it be rude of me to want an additional note to them?" Aran pondered.

His train of thought then was interrupted by Atsumu's curse as he tripped over the stack of books he just had dropped on the floor, yelling, "Sorry L/N-senpai."

The next day Aran found another note, neatly handwritten, attached to the daily crane. He believed destiny was playing a joke on him.

"I think someone is pranking me," he said to Shinsuke over dinner. Ren and Michinari listened to what had riled their wing spiker up, "I think it's the twins…."

"You are sayin'…." Kita picked up a pickled plum with his chopsticks, "Ya believe Atsumu or Osamu are sendin' you letters of admiration. Neatly folded, origami cranes every day…just to play a prank on ya?"

"Look, yesterday when I was saying something about me not opening the cranes because I don't want to rip them, Atsumu was there…Osamu was also close…they heard, and now a day later, there is an additional letter?" Aran wildly gesticulated with the crane between his fingers. "Coincidence? I think not?"

Kita blinked at the spiker, looked at Ren, and sighed, not wanting to say anything.

"What letters are we talking about" Michinari interrupted the silence with his loudly placed question and snatched the crane from Aran's hands.

"Ohh…this is cute…" he read aloud, "Ojiro-kun, I admire how you always help out people in need."

"I helped out Atsumu after he fell yesterday," Aran said, "The twins are clearly mocking me…."

"Clearly," Kita deadpanned, and Ren showed a rare twitching of the corner of his lips.

"Only weird thing is that the twins managed to write this neatly…." Michinari pondered, "Usually, you can't decipher either one of their chicken scratches…it kinda looks familiar."

"Excuse me…" your voice reached their ears. The four third-years swirled around for you to stand there with a clipboard, "I just wanted to make sure if I have written down the correct number for the people you want at the graduation ceremony, the student council is arranging the seating……."

"L/N," Akagi smiled at you and took a look at the handwritten clipboard with their names and number of seats. "Always a pleasure…."

He paused, noticing the similarity between the word on the clipboard and the letters, and glanced up at Kita, who nodded in affirmation. His eyes glanced at Aran, reading over the clipboard, trying to find his name.

Clueless.

Michinari then looked back at Kita and Ren, who nodded again, reaffirming. All three sighed.

"L/N-san, I hope Atsumu didn't give you too much trouble yesterday?" Aran inquired, giving back the clipboard, his hand brushing yours, and he wondered why your hands were nervously fumbling all of a sudden. Maybe you had to use the bathroom?

"No…um, Ojiro-kun…no trouble at all…" you stuttered, "After you helped him up, he really behaved himself carrying the books for me…."

"Ah…okay… that's good to hear."

You turned around, almost ready to go, before glancing back at him and gulping down whatever was stuck in your throat. "I heard that the Red Falcons recruited you… "That… that's great. I think you'll make an amazing addition to their team."

"Oh, you heard about that?" Aran rubbed the back of his head, "Yes, I did…thank you…I still can't believe it, actually."

"Well, I think it's no surprise, you have always worked very hard at your craft…its…admirable… I am sure in like two years we'll see you with the National Team…."

Despite the strange warm feeling in his chest after that compliment, Aran frowned. You were hiding your face with the clipboard. The intonation in your voice was high-pitched at the end of the sentence, and you were breathing a little heavily too. He hoped you were okay.

"Thank you, L/N…um…are you okay? You seem a little flustered?" he murmured, glancing at his friends, who looked at him expectantly. Shinsuke and Ren showed slight smiles while Michinari was grinning, chin propped up on his hands.

If you were really sick, they wouldn't be acting like this. But you looked so uncomfortable, so perhaps he should escort you to the nurse's office. Just to make sure.

"I am okay…should go….um…bye."

With that, you fled the scene at a way quicker pace than he had anticipated from you in your state.

"Okay…?" he turned his head to his friends, "That was weird…."

Why the heck did they look so disappointed? Aran felt judged. Heck, even Shinsuke was looking at him like the way he did when the twins were caught doing something stupid.

"Aran…" Michinari shook his head, crossing his arms, "you are lucky you are cute…."

Kita and Ren nodded in grumbling agreement.

What did he miss? Was something going on?

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Several people on campus looked over to their table.

This whole ordeal was strange, Aran concluded. The letters and encouragements didn't stop, even after he told the twins off various times to their dumb-looking faces. He stopped eventually when the end-of-year exams came closer, and those little notes and words of affirmation and encouragement helped him ease his frail nerves.

It wasn't like he needed the best grades for a professional athlete carrier. However, he still wanted to do good. Something in his mind told him that maybe it was not the twins who sent those cranes. Especially on the day of graduation, when he saw Atsumu and Osamu's handwriting on the self-made cards they gifted him.

Sad, he really appreciated the little cranes. Graduation came, and Aran was off to Osaka to join the Falcons by the time the cherry blossoms had stopped falling. It was strange and different, to say the least, adjusting to a strange new foreign place. Being in a bigger city was overwhelming, but Aran reminded himself that there was somewhere out there who had believed in him so much that they had made the little cranes back in his third year. He took the same cranes with him to Osaka in the same box he kept at the end of his locker.

At times, when things got hard. On days when his muscles ached, he took out one or two of them and read them over.

Strangely, a week his first official V-League season started, Aran found himself presented with a box by the team manager. Fan mail. He had accepted a few letters, here and there, but was mildly surprised about someone already sending him a box. When he opened it and exited like his younger brother did with gifts on Christmas, his eyes grew wide

with the assortment of colorful paper cranes and attached notes. Each made up from the day he walked out of Inarizaki High till today.

If one of his gawking teammates hadn't put it to his attention, Aran, maybe a little teary-eyed at the friendly gesture, wouldn't have seen a bigger note attached to the bottom of the box's lid.

Ojiro-kun, sorry that these have taken so long. I kept looking for a way to send you these but didn't have away. When they announced the Falcon's Fan mail address, I finally found a way to get back into contact with you. Keep up the excellent work. You were brilliant at your professional debut.

The boxes full of 30 paper cranes praising his skills, affirming his thoughts, and lightening his moods became a monthly thing.

"Well…a stalker wouldn't be so nice about the compliments, wouldn't they," their pinch server commented.

"You really don't know who they are from?" Hakuba Gao, the newest addition to the falcons, asked finally after Aran smiled over a box he received in his second year with the falcons. "Kinda creepy you know… Ojiro-kun…do you have a stalker?"

It was 2,7 years after the first crane when he found himself close to an answer. It was one of the long press conferences of the Falcons. One of these long, uncomfortable ones where Aran felt like chaperoning his younger teammates' answers.

When he walked onto the stage and sat down at the table, checking his microphone, his eyes darted over the press people, and he was surprised to see you sitting there in the front row. A quick glance at your plaque told him that you were an intern at a local news agency, and he inclined his head to recognize you.

Was it weird that the smile that bloomed on your face made his chest feel warm and fuzzy, or that the eye contact you shared made him feel like no time had passed?

"Someone is very eager to start this press conference," Gao snickered, elbowing him in the ribs, which took him back from the feeling of seeing heart-shaped bubbles and hearing violin music every time he looked into your eyes.

"Old…friend from High School," he managed to press out, rubbing his aching side.

Press conferences went as usual, first the dreaded self-analysis questions about their last game, predictions on their following, the typical questions meant for sports and fitness magazines about workout tips and athlete's diets.

"Now we draw our attention to more personal matters," the mediator of the press conference said, "Yes, Shoma-san from TokyoNews…."

A woman two seats from you asked, "This is a question to all of you… How do you handle fan mail? Do you enjoy them?"

"Well…we really appreciate them all and take our time to read every single one. So thank you all for the sweet notes and gifts." Hakuba answered for them. "It's funny actually I mentioned like once I loved Riakumma as a child and now I get all of these Rilakumma plushies, stickers, napkins…my apartment looks like a shrine…no, but really don't stop."

He chuckled, shooting the camera a wink, and made a heart out of his hands.

The pinch server smiled, "But kindly refrain from sending us self-made food that can go bad quickly…someone sent our Libero dumplings once, but we got them a month later….they weren't good anymore."

A chuckle rose through the rows of journalists until one of them asked.

"Were the dumplings the weirdest thing you received in fan mail?"

"Actually…" Hakuba side eyes Aran. The grin on Hakuba's face scared Aran a bit. It was so full of mischief he should have known what was coming, "It's not necessarily weird…but…peculiar…. Ojiro-kun always gets a monthly box of 30 paper cranes. Handmade cranes…funny, isn't it?"

"Paper cranes?" A shift went through the journalists as they scribbled, "Who from?"

Aran scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting through the first row of press people, and strangely found you looking up at him expectantly.

"I don't know, actually….they were never signed…" he murmured, then added, "But I like them very much… I've been getting them for a while now…actually…."

He saw that you shifted a little in your seat, noticed your jaw-dropping, shook your head with a smile, and chuckled into your hand before raising it.

"Yes, Y/n-san," he blurted out, giving the mediator no chance to mediate the interview.

The room turned to look at you, a little flustered at the attention, but Aran saw that the past years had made you more confident. It was evident in your clear voice as you spoke up.

"Ojiro-senshu…so you're telling us someone has been sending you paper cranes for a while…can I ask you if you are aware of Senbazuru?"

"Senbazuru?"

"The art of folding one thousand paper cranes, so one is granted a wish by the gods….perhaps someone," you paused at the word, smiling, "Is just wanting you to have that one wish."

"Yeah…" Aran's throat felt strangely dry. Something about how you had expressed this was strange, "Actually…that might be true… I've been getting those cranes since…. High School…"

"Well…you are a lucky person then," you smiled, "How many you think are left…from the one thousand?"

Aran tried to calculate the boxes and boxes of cranes in his apartment. He had almost 33 boxes….so he must be close. "I think it's almost a thousand… I am not sure… I have to count…."

"Well…good luck on that Ojiro-senshu, let's hope you get your thousand crane and note and can make a wish."

It hit him there. Nobody had ever said something about the notes attached to the cranes. He had to talk to you. The warm feeling in his chest had spread and was now burning in his fingertips, twitching to move out to reach out to you to just…talk.

How could he be so stupid? The handwriting seemed so familiar because he had seen it plenty of times, the book incident you had been there too.

"Y/N…" he said as the press conference was dismissed," Can we have a word…?"

You turned to your superior, exchanging a few words with them and promising that you'd catch up before approaching Aran.

"Ojiro-senshu…you look well…long time no see" you smiled up at him, eyes playful, "are you okay, you seem a little flustered…?"

It was the exact words he'd asked you that day. You had approached them, telling him good luck with the Falcons. The day Shinsuke had declared him a fool, while Ren and Michinari dared to laugh at him. He maybe was a fool back then.

"Tell me about Senbazuru…" he murmured, and you chuckled.

"Well, one folds a thousand paper cranes to make a wish, and legend says the gods will grant it…." you said, pulling out a small red crane from your pocket, "This is your thousand one, I suppose. I counted them myself…."

"So it was you…" he flabbergasted but beamed, "and the notes too….all these encouragements and affirmations…you did…."

"Yes, Kita-kun once told me that you like compliments, but back then, I was too shy to verbalize them, so I started making little notes and distinguishing them… I folded them," you laughed, smiling at them, "By the way, one of the first cranes had my name on them, but I suppose you never opened them?"

"No," Aran admitted, "I was afraid of ripping them…."

"You're too gentle for that Ojirou-kun….here….please accept this…your last crane…so you can make your wish…" you took his hand and laid the little bird into his palm, "Perhaps you can wish for that spot on the National Team?"

"No silly," Aran laughed, "I already got the spot….this is not yet known by anyone so you might not want to tell your boss…but I got the call a few days ago."

"Congratulations!" you beamed, "I always knew you would make it…so…what do you want to put that wish towards."

"Perhaps I can wish for a certain someone….to join me on a date to dinner?" He smiled, and you realized that time had made him a little more confident, just as it had made him more handsome.

They probably went with the rest of their friends, not even paying mind to the fact they dragged the third triplet with them. There was one person who noticed you. Suna Rintaro had his eyes on you the moment you walked in. He watched the twins leave your side and wander off. He wanted to go to you so bad, but he was stuck in conversation with Kita. "Go. you haven't been paying attention to me anyway" Looking at Kita in shock, Rin just chuckled, "You noticed huh?" "who wouldn't? youre lucky her brothers aren't paying attention or they'd pounce on you." the white haired male stated while hiding his smirk behind his solo cup. Suna pushed away the wall he was leaning on and started to make his way across the drunken filled house to you. Looking up from your spot in the corner, you saw the fox eyed male a few feet away from you. bringing your cup up to your lips you smiled into it, you didn't expect Suna to come to you especially with how over protective your brothers are. "Hey y/n, why don't you come to the backyard with me? It's calmer outside." he asked as he reached your side. "Actually im quite comfortable here." you chided. "that's bullshit and you know it," he laughed as you slumped your head onto his shoulder, "yeah youre right, I just dont want to be a bother, you looked like you were enjoying yourself. You dont need to rescue me." he moved your head from his shoulder and put a finger under you chin moving you to make eye contact with him. "I wanted to," he whispered as he leaned down to put his forehead against yours. He wanted to kiss you so bad, but as you got closer to him, he pulled away. "Come on lets go." *its just the alcohol in her system, she doesn't actually like me back* he thought as he guided you through the house to the back door by your waist. This action didn't go unnoticed by your brothers, who just now remembered that you had come with them.

The cool air hit your face as Rin opened the back door, sobering you up instantly. A chill ran down your body causing you to subconsciously rub your arms. Next thing you knew, a jacket was being dropped around your shoulders, "here, you can use this." Suna said as he gripped your shoulders in a loving manner. "thank you" you said as you pulled your arms through the jacket and pulled it tighter around your body. He lead you over to the porch swing and sat down, holding his hand out to you. taking it, he pulled you not onto the swing, but into his lap. "whoa, Rin" He only chuckled at your response as you situated yourself to be more comfortable. You both sat in silence, enjoying the evening air, with the party music muffled behind you. Suna had one arm around your waist, securing you so you wouldn't fall, and the other on your back rubbing soothing circles while your head rested on his shoulder. You heard him take a deep sigh, "what's wrong Rinnie?" you question pulling your head up to look at him. you couldn't tell if the gleam of his eyes was due to the liquor or something else. He smiled as he buried his face in your neck, "yeah I'm fine Y/n, just have something on my mind" "do you want to talk about it? Im all ears for you." lifting his head, he continued, "yeah actually." Leaving the silence, signaling him to go on, which he did. “There’s been something that I’ve been meaning to say to you, but it’s been difficult due to your brothers,” "well my brothers are a pain in the ass a lot of the time so I understand." squeezing your waist, he went on, "Y/n, I really like you, actually I think I love you..." gasping you tried to turn around fully to look at him. Suna saw this and decided to stand you both up. "Suna! what?!?" a slight flash of hurt crossed his face, "wait wait, no! not a bad thing, I think I love you too! Its just this wasnt how I saw this going" Smiling at you he laughed, "I know, I wasnt planning on this either but you sitting in my lap, the peaceful night, it was all just perfect and I needed to say something. So what do you say, will you be my girlfriend?" thanks to the liquid courage in your system, you gave him his answer in the form of a kiss. He stumbled back a little but but regained his balance, put his hands on your waist and kissed you back with just as much passion. The first kiss was sloppy but full of love that you both have been hiding from each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Atsumu, Osamu and even Kita had seen this happen. "that bastard!!" "atsumu shut up," "No! 'Samu! Suna just kissed our sister! Suna out of all people! why couldnt she fall for Kita or something!" That earned him two slaps, one for his twin and the other from Kita. "let them be Atsumu, they're happy, plus I dont think Suna will do anything to hurt her, he literally left our conversation earlier to make sure she was ok, because you two idiots left her alone." putting his hands on his hips, Kita looked at the twins in disapproval, while they rubbed the back of their necks. Before they could speak again Kita turned back towards where you and Suna were now back on the swing, "plus, they're good for each other, let them be for tonight, you can speak to them tomorrow." and with that Kita dragged the twins away.

After the kiss Suna had put you both back on the swing for a little while longer. you had both decided that you were going to leave the party, but just wanted to wait a few more minutes to sober up. " so when are we going to tell my brothers? you had asked while playing with his hand, "hopefully never," after the look you gave him, Rin retracted his statement, "kidding, kidding, well tell them later. Lets just go for now, ill take you home ok?" Smiling at him you both enjoyed the rest of your evening, before Atsumu decided to follow you home trying to get Suna away from you.

a/n- hope y'all enjoyed! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

all the time spent devoted to them to keep them content. while they no longer napped as much, they talked back and had their own opinions about everything. they could no longer be contained in playpens or cribs because they’ll break free or climb out of it. they could now walk on their own, meaning they could get into trouble in any way possible. even if they’re caught red-handed, they were too darn cute to be disciplined and got away with almost everything. 

being messy isn’t excluded. meals and snacks have to be served around the same time every day. they were in their food exploration phase. so much wasted to find out what they would or wouldn’t eat. every time they’re given drawing materials, one would hope it stayed on the paper or book instead of the walls or floors. then there’s the dreaded bathtime. it always came up when they were busy doing something else. it meant bed time’s right after. the huge issue is because of the mysterious black dots, thinking they were bugs.

they grow up so fast. one minute they want to do everything on their own. in another, they still want you to carry them and they’re excessively annoying.

the constant need for entertainment holds true. all your son needs is an activity to occupy his time with, whether it be a toy, a board book or puzzle, or his tablet. 

the communication part osamu wanted to see for himself. 

to save time and to avoid the hassle, none of kiyoshi’s actual toys were brought along for him today though. it’s also to steer clear of the aftermath should one toy go missing.

your son doesn’t have his tablet yet. he only gets it as a last resort. osamu’s trying to stay away from it and think of other ways to occupy his time. 

for him to sit still at a counter seat is a big feat already. the straps of the portable seat harness keep him in place so he doesn’t fall off. he’s only there so osamu can keep an eye on him without the constant need to go back and forth. 

he hears kiyoshi is pretty crafty too. he seems to be through with coloring and in lieu of the tablet, he gives him two generous portions of rice to see what he can come up with.

so far he’s taking small chunks of rice and rolling it into balls. they may be uneven and lopsided, but he’s trying. a few rolls off the counter when he tries to stack them on top of each other, but it’s no big deal. kids are messy. osamu will clean it up later. when there’s no more rice, your son clumps them all together to build the mounds again and starts over. 

“ya don’t talk much, do ya?” osamu wonders.

he doesn’t answer, but kiyoshi stops what he’s doing and looks at osamu.

“yer just like yer dad.” 

a splitting image to be exact.

upon hearing the word dad, he mushes all the rice together to make one huge ball of rice. 

“daddy.” kiyoshi attempts to grab the ball of rice to hold up, but can’t.

“i know,” osamu states. he’s trying to make a volleyball. “speaking of which, yer uncle will be here soon to pick up his lunch.” 

he looks over at the bag sitting at the end of the counter.

your son ended up eating all the animal onigiri rice balls osamu made for him earlier, something his kids didn’t even do. they played with the food instead. he used some nori to make faces to put on the rice balls too. it may be a reason why he ate it, but he’s glad your son isn’t picky.

it helps a lot when he has kids of his own, but every kid is different.

a few customers come in and osamu and his staff tend to them while your son sits there and continues playing with the rice.

then the peace gets interrupted.

“what the hell is this, samu?” atsumu looks from kiyoshi to osamu. 

when he walked into onigiri miya, he didn’t expect to see your son sitting there.

“‘m watchin’ him for a bit.”

“how come i don’t get to babysit?” atsumu whines.

everyone had different parenting techniques. osamu knew the two of you are being selective on who gets to babysit and he’s not going to let atsumu ruin it for him. he doesn’t know the particular details of what happened previously. no one did. the two of you kept mum about it. he also wanted to see if the rumors were true about sakusa’s kid. 

you’ve taken the day off, but you only needed someone to watch him while you ran a few errands at non kid friendly places. children under a certain age can’t be left unattended and the staff would not monitor them on your behalf. you’re positive he would sit there with no issues since he’s mature for his age, but they were strict with their policy and would turn you away. you’ll end up having to reschedule which would be more troublesome.

when you’re done, you’ll pick up kiyoshi for his doctor’s appointment. you didn’t want to trouble osamu at first, but the errands are around the area of his restaurant, so you thought it wouldn't hurt to ask. you also said you’d ask your work to give him more business by letting him cater a few times. 

but atsumu doesn’t need to know why. “no clue. ya have to ask his parents.”

“let me bring him back to practice with me. i’ll show omi-kun i can handle him.”

“how do ya expect to bring him with no car seat?”

“oh ya.”

his brother doesn’t think sometimes. “besides, y/n is comin’ back for him soon.”

“don’t ya have a spare one?” 

sakusa will wonder why atsumu has his son all of a sudden, who will be in trouble for finally succeeding in kidnapping his son from you.

“not here ya idiot. where’s yers?”

“in the other car.” atsumu thinks for a few seconds. “be right back.” 

he grabs his food and leaves.

“tsumu, wait-” 

osamu is afraid his brother will go to his place to grab a car seat. he’s also the impulse type to go buy one at the store on the spot. if he ends up buying one, he’ll either say sakusa or you owe him money. 

a sigh of relief escapes him when he comes back inside a few minutes later empty handed.

atsumu takes the seat next to your son and raises his hand for a high-five. “gimme five?”

kiyoshi stops what he’s doing. he studies atsumu for a few seconds, but is hesitant to give it.

“come on lil guy.”

knowing he won’t be left alone until he does, he reaches over and lightly pats atsumu’s hand. 

once.

“ya wanna come with uncle ‘tsumu?”

your son shakes his head.

osamu watches the interaction. “i still don’t understand how ya goin’ to take him with no car seat.”

“just seein’ if he would say ya. ‘m tryin’ to make him talk.” atsumu doesn’t know what kiyoshi is doing with the rice, but he picks up some in an attempt to make an onigiri out of it. “here ya go.”

“i wouldn’t bother him if i were ya,” osamu warns.

“suumuu,” kiyoshi says.

“hey, ya talked and said my name.” he puts the rice down and pinches kiyoshi’s cheeks into a fish-face.

one thing your son doesn’t like is to be touched like his dad. 

without purpose or permission. 

he’ll only allow, or tolerate it, when he, himself, climbs onto the person’s lap or the person is currently holding him. 

the second is especially when the person’s hand is dirty. 

another is when his bubble is invaded. 

they have to ask or he has to let them partake in the activity he’s currently doing. if he likes them, he’ll share or offer on his own accord. 

no one is able to take or touch his stuff without consequences. 

he’s still young, but he needs to not do this when he goes to school.

the one or few bad traits to inherit. 

splat

atsumu is hit square in the face by a whole mound of rice. chunks and pieces slide off bit by bit. “what-”

kiyoshi points and starts to smile. “suumuu.”

“but-”

“it’s only rice, sumu.” osamu goes to the back to grab a wet towel for atsumu to clean himself off.

kiyoshi gives atsumu the evil eye while the offender has an incredulous look on his face.

osamu returns with the towel and hands it over.

“why me?!” atsumu cries, using the towel to wipe the rice off his face.

“ya have to admit, he’s got a pretty good aim.” he tries to hide a snicker.

atsumu, setting the towel on the counter, points at kiyoshi. “we’re no longer friends.”

he doesn’t understand the concept of friends yet, but he recognizes a pest when he sees one. your son picks up the other mound of rice and prepares to throw it again.

“‘m telling omi-kun!” atsumu sputters, jumping out of his seat, and stomping out of the restaurant.

osamu’s never seen his brother come and leave so fast. “i like ya, kiyoshi. ya should come visit more often.”

plus, he’s only there to keep you company.

he moves to stand between you and the tv, blocking the screen. then glances at the glass bowl on the coffee table to see it’s almost empty. something he remembers refilling before he went to shower. the candy wrappers are nowhere in sight.

even with you sitting sideways in the armchair, you still can’t see. “what? you can go back to where we left off. why are you standing in front of me?”

when he doesn’t move, you toss the cushion at him and he catches it. he walks over to where the remote is with a towel still around his neck and sits down. “better yet, what are you eating?”

the piece of candy in your mouth, you quickly hide under your tongue.

it better not be what he thinks it is. he restarts the episode. “i can smell it.”

you turn your gaze back to the tv.

“you don’t want your cushion back?” he watches you change your position every few seconds to try to get comfortable again. “you’re going to hurt your neck.”

shaking his head, he pulls the towel from his neck. his hair’s still damp because of the noise out here. he stands, walks over to pick you up, and carries you back to the sofa. you manage to grab the cushion before he settles back in.

“what are you eating?” he asks again.

“nothing.” no one told him to take so long in the shower. you tried to stay awake and ended up eating most of his sour plum candy. 

kiyoomi turns your head, and lifts your chin. “i’m not going to ask again.”

you push the candy to the front of your mouth and bite down to hold it between your teeth to show him. 

“i just bought those and they're almost all gone.” he lowers his head towards you.

your eyes widen. what’s left of the candy in your mouth, you quickly bite and chew up prior to swallowing. “you can get your own.”

“no.” his lips only centimeters away from yours when he says this before he kisses you softly. 

he lightly slides his tongue across your bottom lip and runs it along the roof of your mouth. he tastes the sour, the vinegar, and the hints of plum. you try to push him away, but with one arm around your waist and the other holding your chin, you can’t move at all. 

when he lets you go, you look up at him. he gently touches your cheek and chuckles, “don’t eat all my candy next time.”

you pull out of his embrace, to slide off his lap and reach into the glass bowl to grab a piece of candy and hand it to him.

“nope, i had enough.” he leans over to the side to get a better look at the tv.

you climb back onto his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. “you are eating the piece of candy.”