#rin-nii

you come across a photo of silly photo of atsumu on your feed, and you let out an airy chuckle before liking the post.

suna looks over at you, his eyes narrowed. “do you even wanna watch a movie?” he scoffs, standing up and tossing the remote on the table. “you’re pissing me off.”

“excuse me?” you furrow your eyebrows and stand up, glaring straight at him. “i’m pissing you off?” you snicker and shake your head. “you don’t get to fucking talk!”

“i don’t get to talk?!” his voice raising as he followed you to the bedroom. “i’m making a fucking effort and you’re probably fantasizing about atsumu right next to me!”

you stop in your tracks at that, slapping a hand across his face. “you’re fucking kidding me, right?” you want to do anything—most of all laugh at him, but you’re past that. “now you’re making an effort? where was that effort for all those fucking months? huh, rin?”

you shoved him out of your way as you walked over to the closet to find a backpack. “so what? you’re packing up and leaving?” he chuckles, his fists clenched at his sides.

“i’m staying at mei’s for a bit because i’m fucking tired of you!” you turn around to scream in his face, before walking around him and throwing your dresser open, random shirts and pants stuffed into your bag or launched on the floor. “with your nonsense about fantasizing about ‘tsumu... i bet atsumu wouldn’t treat me like this!”

everything went quiet, except the sound of clothes being packed. it had slipped passed your lips—you didn’t mean it.

“what the fuck did you just say?” his breaths are heavy now, and your pinned between him and your dresser—except it wasn’t an arousing situation—no, his eyes were filled with rage, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t afraid of him like this.

“i said, atsumu wouldn’t treat me like this.” now you’re all in his face, because you weren’t a pussy. “get away from me, you fucking bastard.” you shove him off of you, storming your way to the bathroom.

“you’re a fucking whore, you know that?” he growls, watching tears stream down your face in the bathroom mirror as you dig through the drawers for a spare toothbrush.

“i’m the whore? well guess what! this whore waits up for you every night and tolerates your shitty behaviour!” you shriek, unashamed of the droplets falling helplessly down your face. “i do anything, everything, but you can’t even acknowledge it!”

he’s quiet at that, cause he knows it’s true.

he watches as you make your way out of the room, and waits a few minutes until he hears the front door slam shut.

suna really was worried, but he knew that he didn’t have a reason to be. it wasn’t the first time that both of your built up emotions have exploded altogether, always ending with a slam of the door—except it was always you leaving.

although suna has never laid a hand on you—and never will—you never wanted to stick around for things to get worse—worser than it’s been before.

it was all just insults—insults casually thrown around like they were nothing, despite the fact that each word carried a strong burden with it.

the regrets never seemed to tame your minds—not until you were apart.

that’s when suna finally fell down onto the bed, his head between his hands. it was a yell he decided to let out—this time with a random object thrown onto the floor, accompanied with a glass shattering\.

it was a picture frame—one with you and suna smiling at an amusement park. you were both happy then. he wanted to know what changed.

while he broke another picture frame, you sat with mei, balling your eyes out.

“shh... don’t worry, i’m here.” mei comforted you, rubbing circles on your back as you cried on her floor.

“i just want to stop fighting with him.” you sobbed out. “i want everything to be okay again.”

“oh baby, everything is okay!” she reassures you. “if this is how things are meant to play out, then it is what it is. remember what the kind lady at the cafe said.”

“but i don’t want what she said to be true.”

after a few days had passed, suna was sure you weren’t gonna come back, until he heard the front door open.

he hopped up from the bed—glad that he had cleaned the house the other day—and walked out the bedroom, where he found you taking off your shoes.

“hey.” he mumbled, and you didn’t respond to him.

you removed the backpack and left it by the door, walking over to him. “can we talk?” he asked, watching as you passed right by him, entering into the bedroom with a quick “no, thanks.”

“please?” he pressed on, but you shook your head, crawling into your side of the bed.

“night, rin.” you whispered.

he was okay, though. he was sure that you would want to talk to him in the morning.

except you didn’t. 

now, he had this scene that play over and over, every single night. 

he would come home from practice, but you wouldn’t be in the same place as usual. you weren’t sitting at the table waiting for him with dinner ready—no, you were always either bathing, or already asleep.

did he not mean that much to you anymore, that you didn’t need to make sure he came home?

who was he to complain though? he took advantage of your love for him, with all the endless nights that he stayed out. why did he deserve to have someone to make sure that he came home safe?

but even so, as he came home from work today, he wished that he was still deserving of your love.

he wished that he could see you smile at him from your same spot at the table, with a “hey rin, how was practice?”

but that wasn’t what was really bothering him.

it was the fact that there was always food in the fridge for him to microwave after a long day. the fact that the laundry was always done, and that his clothes were always washed for him to use again.

it was the fact that every morning when he would wake up with no one beside him, there would still be a plate of breakfast left on the table for him, with a note saying “make sure you eat, rin.”

it was the fact that even if the love would probably be lost one day, you still cared for him. even if you rarely spoke to him since that last argument, you still secretly took care of him.

it was the fact that every now and then, he got the urge to wrap his arms around you, and to cuddle you once again. he wanted to laugh with you, and to go on cheesy dates with you, and to once again do what normal couples do.

it was the fact that only as your relationship began to crumble to the ground, had he began to realize that he still loved you.

shit—he still loved you.

but it was too late.