#yuta

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ saw the hickies on your neck when your collar would slip when you weren't looking. dark and red. all over your neck. like a mark— a claim— but they'd fade.

he'd see the dreamy look in your eyes when you'd sometimes leave a classroom, or satoru's office, or even a closet on a few occasions.

he felt the racing in your heart. the dreamy look in your eyes. the temporary smile on your lips. and he knew, of course he knew. even a person with one eye could see that you and satoru were something. more than friends, less than lovers, something that told others to back off.

but what yuta also saw amidst all the haze?

the void in your heart.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ took care of you in ways you never noticed. your coffee was always on your desk, a habit he'd started in fourth year. documents were always neatly in your office. you never walked home late or took the night train alone. he'd nudged his shoulder closer when you'd fallen asleep beside him on the ride back home. helped you to your apartment and made sure you locked the door after.

your apartment was an address he'd memorised. popping by with takeout and treats at the end of the week. leaving before you could question it too much.

if there was a mission on the roster that was particularly daunting, yuta would make sure he was there to assign to it first. he knew of your habit of trying to lessen the load on satoru's shoulders. and while he found it admirable— you were a person too.

he carried an extra water bottle. made sure you took your lunch breaks. helped with your students. he took care of you not because he wanted you to see him as anything more, but to simply repay you for the way you'd taken care of him in his younger years. he did it because he cared. not because he was waiting.

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't take care of you in the way you wanted. he couldn't be the one waiting for you after school or on your train platform. couldn't show up to your apartment with emergency packages because missions were always more important.

not more important than you. never more important than you. but definitely more important that vulnerability, which directly involved you.

he couldn't be the shoulder you leaned on. he was just the body you were supposed to take your frustration out on. not the hand that held yours, but the one that held yours down as you both burst in that wrecking, temporary passion.

temporary, limited, fleeting. but in those moments— you were his.

he gave you what he could, because he cared. of course he did. but he couldn't commit. so instead he'd keep you waiting.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ felt a little at ease when you were both assigned to the latest mission. but that faded the second he noticed how tense you were. it was easy to do so; or maybe he'd just grown accustomed to your tells. he knew when you were happy, sad, tired, stressed—

right now, the way you sat in the backseat of the assistant manager's car beside him. arms folded and leaning on the door, staring out of the window as your thoughts were faster than the cars zipping by.

you seemed upset. drained. yuta wondered if it was because of another argument with him again.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ didn't really have the time to ask you if were alright. you were thrust head-first into the mission. sorcerers never really delved in the matters of curse users, but it seemed today was one of those special occasions.

these kinds of missions often called for stakeouts. controlled cursed energy and reduced residuals. a steeled mind and a steady heart.

and right now, it was taking all the endless, thousands of hours he'd spent training to keep his heart from thumping straight out of his chest when he had you with your back to his chest, pressed into every inch of him and your shampoo in his nose.

stakeouts. right.

the supply closet was more than just cramped, it was a test of his resolve. here you were, the woman he'd had heart eyes for since the first day he showed up all dull-eyed and bushy-tailed, now pressed against him in every meaning of the word. his knees against your thighs. your shoulders on his chest. his spine hunched to accommodate with the tiny closet but in turn flushing him further up into you.

he didn't know where to put his hands. so they were flat on the wall in front of you. which— wouldn't you know? trapped you even further against him.

his breath was thin. eyes unblinking. every internal thought praying to whatever was listening for him to think about something. anything. but the softness of you up against him. the scent of your shampoo. the feel of your breath, your thighs, your ass—

stop.

stop. stop. stop it.

think about flowers.

your hair smelled like flowers. . .

NO. think of something else. think of curses. scary things. disgusting things.

his mind was certainly thinking disgusting things. thinking how he wanted to press you into the wall and kiss you like a curse. until your soul left your body and he could swallow it. hold you, caress you, have you.

fuck.

his eyes squeezed shut. he sucked in a breath. he could do this. he'd worked so hard on his nerves. he could put on a mask. focus on the mission.

that was until, he heard your heart racing.

wait.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ wanted to take a peek at your thoughts. just for a moment. he'd trade anything in the world for just a second. just to know why your body was so stiff, why your breath was shallow, why your heart— was pounding.

little did he know how you stared at the wall. unblinking too. little did he see how your palms sweated as they too were pressed on the wall, between his.

his hands had gotten bigger, you'd noticed. hell, yuta had gotten bigger. when did he get so tall? tall enough that he had to crook in the supply closet and somehow he still loomed over you?

you tried to steady yourself. tried to think. think of anything else but the heat spreading on your face and the way your feet pressed closer. why. . . why were you feeling like this?

were you flustered?

not a cold day in hell. you'd never be flustered. not over your former student. not over yuta okkotsu, the boy you'd taught how to use a sword. who looked up at you with those big puppy eyes and followed you around like one too back then

no. absolutely not.

"you remember the plan, right?" he murmured to your ear.

fuck. when. when did his voice get so raspy?

it was low, emphasising the rasp that stuttered your heart. muttering to your ear as to not give away your hiding spot. he spoke about the plan of action. refreshed you on what his stance would be. what yours would. everything vital for the mission to go smoothly.

but all you could think of was. . .

when did yuta grow into such an attractive man when you weren't looking?

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ had his mind racing by the time you both returned to the hotel. he entered his suite, shut the door, pressed his back to it and drew a shaky breath. fuck. was he thinking things? did he hear wrong? was it just the fantasies?

he's always been so acutely aware when it came to you. so he knew without a doubt: your heart was racing.

not only that, but you weren't listening. he swore he saw the tremble in your knees. heard the hitch in your breath. you were flustered— and that thought excited him, as it wedged into his own stuttering heart and bloomed possibilities.

were you attracted to him?

could he actually have you?

he wanted to be a good guy and say that he shook the thought off. chastised himself. but yuta was hardly the boy that he once was. still sweet— but with an edge. so tossed off his jacket. sat on the bed. nurtured the thought like a flame dancing in his palms. dangerous, scandalous, and everything in between.

long legs kicked onto the bed. his dark hair that had grown out a bit since his teen years splayed over the pillows as he stared at the ceiling. recalling your softness that pressed into every inch of him. the weight of your back on his chest, your hands trembling between his, your perfume enveloping him.

fuck. you were so close. so right. it took everything within him not to bury his nose into your neck and inhale your sweet scent. drag his lips on your pulse. seize your waist.

wait.

wait wait.

stop it.

he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as that familiar, uncomfortable strain tightened his pants. no— he wasn't gonna do it. he wasn't. he wasn't about to touch himself to the thought of you when you were on the other side of the wall.

it's a miracle his dick even behaved in the first place when it was wedged up against your back like that. your ass— shit.

he needed some relief. just a little. lest he drive his cursed energy into a spiral and have you knocking on his door to check on him cause you sensed it. he didn't think he'd be able to hold back at all then.

so he reached down. slowly. stroked his thumb along the bulge in his dark pants and hissed a soft breath. slow. gotta go slow.

the callouses from his swords-wielding dragged over the curve of his erection. pushing his thumb to his already leaking tip through the fabric. rubbed slow and steady. shattering his sanity bit by bit. as he gulped down moans and whispered whines.

dark, hazy eyes fluttered. blinking up at the ceiling as he tried to imagine your face. tried to pretend it was your soft hand wrapped around his dick. your thumb swiping on his dripping slit and jerking him off so messily.

no— you wouldn't be messy. nothing about you was clumsy. not like him. not like the way he fucked his fist and chewed his lip so hard it broke skin. not like the way he grunted, and panted and whined your name from the back of his throat.

no. you were perfect. so so perfect. it's why he was able to spurt all over his hand without so much as a few minutes. his mind spinning, breaths ragged and his eyes hazy hearts. for you. only you.

he needed to have you. in any way he could. and now that you'd given him an in? he finally had hope.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ decided he was going to start small. whether you made the move or not, he wanted to show you that there were other options. safer ones. warmer ones. that didn't involve you getting your heart shattered every friday.

it started with being there for you more. being there in the morning when you clocked in for work to give you the coffee himself. bringing you lunch. walking you home and making sure he finished missions as early as possible so that he could.

he'd carry your bag for you. fill out extra paperwork so you wouldn't have much to do. offer to grade any outstanding papers from your classes for you.

yes, every action was more charged now. every time he saw you relax there was a brighter flicker of hope within him. but this was more than just trying to show you a better option— no. it was intimacy.

intimacy in the form of taking care of you. showing you his love in small, meaningful acts. showing you he was there. that he cared. because love was earned. much like trust. and he was willing to do whatever it took to show you that he could be trusted.

that he could take care of you.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ got a little bolder. just slightly. not pushing— never pushing. but persistence. he locked eyes with you whenever he could. held the state until you looked away or he absolutely had to. let you know that he was seeing you. that he always saw you.

his hand would brush yours as he handed you your coffee. shoulders nudging, fingers feathering. in all the ways that were natural but there. enough to notice. enough to get a reaction out of you.

he listened close. always. listened for your heart. looked at your eyes. for signs of discomfort. for something that told him to stop. but there was none.

did you feel it too?

the spark when his hand cupped your shoulder to guide you into your apartment? when his arms wrapped around you to give you a hug every morning? when your knees leaned on one another on the train ride back home?

he saw it. you were beginning to realise. beginning to entertain that flame that danced between the both of you. tempting. alluring.

but why— why, why. why.

were you denying yourself?

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ found himself frustrated when he was alongside satoru and his mentor let something slip.

he's always looked up to him. appreciated him. cared for him. nothing would change that. hell, satoru was the one who saved his life. gave him a home. satoru was the reason he met you in the first place.

but that didn't change the fact that he was still the reason you shed tears.

it was silly, really. fleeting. satoru probably didn't even realise that he had said it with how absentminded it was as he walked down the hallways alongside yuta.

"you know how woman can be. hard to please."

hard. to please?

it was a pleasure to please you.

"you know, sensei," he couldn't even begin to stop himself. his voice lower than intended. eyes deader than he realised as he glanced over at satoru who spared him a small look. probably surprised at the tone.

but that hardly stopped yuta, as he spoke flatly. too bluntly.

"you really should appreciate the things that are right in front of you more."

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ had always appreciated it. he would never not appreciate you, the girl from his childhood who chased him down when he stole her dango and offered her shoulder for him to bawl into whenever the world became too much.

satoru had always wanted you. in a way that was dangerous for the person he was raised to be. it was selfish.

which was exactly why he couldn't.

there were too many risks. too many possibilities. too many things standing in the way of him, you, and the life he'd always wanted to give you. something other than the sorcerer world and endless missions and never a concrete forever.

vulnerability was weakness. and even if he could get over that; he never would be able to give you everything that you deserved.

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ knows it was even more selfish to keep you around even when you deserved so much more than him. deserved to move on and find something that wasn't his scarred body or his weapon soul.

he loved the sex. loved the velvet of your skin against his. the sin of your lips on his. your body, everything about it— but he wanted more. craved it in the fantasies that he laid awake thinking about when you occupied the place that sleep should.

right now though, sex was the only way that he thought he could have you in. in the raw physicality of it all. outside of feelings, and heart, and soul. outside of the risks, the complications. when you were under him. nails scratching on his back and voice calling for him so sweetly, so sinfully, like he was just satoru rather than gojo satoru.

just his. in that temporary, aching way.

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated leaving you the morning after. when you were your most beautiful. covered in his scent, his marks, his love. yes. the love he denied time and time again even when it'd branded itself in his heart.

you were beautiful when you slept. curled in the sheets and hugging around a pillow he'd substituted himself for. he couldn't bear it. to have you reach out for him while he'd love and leave you all over again.

but he was afraid.

so maybe, keeping you at arms' length was the better option. selfish, yes. but chaining you to a broken and dutiful being like him felt even more selfish.

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated the fights, but he always got so overwhelmed. he never learnt how to regulate those emotions. not when you're raised in a clan and given everything you want— and the times that you aren't resulted in painful punishments if you asked too much.

he always said the wrong thing. always wound himself up. let all the thoughts bunch in his head and boil over until he was spitting fire at you.

he remembered everything single fight. everything single thing he'd said to you. every time you tried to pretend you weren't crying and all the times you couldn't.

he'd remember this fight, too. as you stood in the centre of his living room. your face twisted as much as his. your hands gestured while his balled. when you both clashed it was ugly. like metal scraping on metal and trying to shatter the other.

he'll remember what he told you. when it all got too much and everything zeroed it. when he told you to get the hell out of his house, and snapped a piercing blue glare over his shoulder at you.

"you're just an overgrown friend."

cutting— stabbing. aimed to carve out any fight in your heart and poison it with the lie that he thought you were a bother. that he'd outgrown you. that you were just a leach of the past.

he'll remember how you stormed out of his apartment.

he'll remember your tears on his carpet.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ nearly dropped the files in his arms when he'd answered the call to your sniffling.

"are you— are you okay? hey, hey, shhh." he hushed over the line, brows pinching and mouth frowning. how he hated hearing you cry.

"I'll be there, okay? just wait for me, deep breaths." it took everything within him to bite back an endearment at the end and hang up.

he was there in twenty minutes. with your favourite takeout in one hand and dessert in the other. but when you answered the door, with glossy eyes and a blotched face— he nearly dropped both in favour of bundling you up into his arms.

once yuta got his arms around you, he wasn't sure he was ever letting go again. not with how you curled into him and you both sat on the couch. as you clung to his jacket and trembled. how you sobbed into his shoulder as if you'd choke up your heart.

he held you. close. protective. one large hand to the back of your head while his other arm wrapped around you. tucking you under his chin and hiding you away. shielding you from the world that dared to hurt you.

"it's okay, I'm here. I promise I'm here." he murmured to your ear. as he listened to your hiccups and chokes. as you spilled everything that happened between you and satoru.

he was so glad that you were too shaken to notice how his cursed energy crackled.

but he sucked in a breath. shut his eyes. counted to five. calmed down because he didn't need that right now. not when you needed him.

he held you until you were calm. cuddled you until your tears were dry. listened to whatever you wanted to say.

he was there for you. in every definition of the word.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't impressed when your phone lit up on the coffee table beside the couch with satoru's name on the screen. what did he want? after making you cry your eyes out like this he shouldn't even be breathing your name, let alone trying to talk to you.

what frustrated him even more was how you shifted. like it was automatic. like it was fucking natural to just let the guy who hurt you over and over back in yet again. he felt your arm move, knew you were reaching to answer.

his grip tightened. "you don't have to answer that, you know." he spoke, soft. soft enough to mark the twinge of irritation. "you deserve to be upset too."

you sniffed. rubbed your eyes and nodded your head before you leaned back on his shoulder. clinging to him. close to him. in a way that was hardly appropriate but none of you cared to admit in the moment.

the ringing stopped. his grip loosened. yuta nuzzled his head into yours and enjoyed the silence, even if your broken heart spilled in it. he simply held you. loved you.

and then the blasted phone rang again.

and then you hesitated again.

and then you reached out. fucking. again.

"what if it's something important," you murmured. he hated how naturally you could make excuses.

"well then he'll show up," yuta tried to offer. tried to steer you away as you shifted in his arms. reaching for satoru, slipping from yuta's fingers. as you always did.

"you really shouldn't answer—"

"just let me hear him out."

it should have ended there. he should have let you. should have just shut up and listened as satoru apologised over the line and you forgave his every sin because you never realised how much more you deserved.

yuta couldn't take it. not anymore. so as your fingers slipped around the phone— his shot out.

his arm around you had snapped over. easily outdoing yours as your hand was dwarfed by his. snatching the phone and gripping tighter. steeling it from your hold.

he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. not again. not even when you snapped your stare over to him and jerked to face him. that same strict look from when you trained him striking in your stare.

defensive, weren't you? for what— satoru?

"who do you think you—"

but you hadn't realised. that as you jerked to face him you abruptly shoved closer. too close. too close for someone who was about to scold him as if you were still his teacher when you flushed up against him in a way that was anything but.

your breath hitched. he heard it. just like he heard your heart stutter. again.

for him.

yuta didn't flinch. even as your face brushed dangerously close. as your glare quivered. as your chest flushed into him.

his brows narrowed. eyes darkened. not with anger, not with frustration, but something more deadly:

love.

"why do you insist on hurting yourself over and over again? you deserve something good." he spoke, even. calm. like a man who meant every word and how to give it to you.

you hesitated.

you did that a lot with him.

why? because you felt it too? because you knew it in your heart that only ever said satoru's name?

you cleared your throat. not flinching away but not pressing closer. even as his fingers curled around your shirt and his arms steeled you into him.

even as he stared into your eyes with his half-lidded ones, as if he was trying to crawl into your very soul and hold it as his own.

even as your breaths mingled. your hearts slipping into the little space between you both.

skipping.

yearning.

"and how—" you steadied yourself. pressed your lips together. bracing that pesky resolve—

"how would you know what I deserve?"

"because I want to give it to you."

— as his shattered all together.

and his lips crashed onto yours.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ kissed you.

he kissed you.

hand bunching the back of your hair and the other clinging to your waist. his mouth molding on yours and your breath stolen in his lungs.

like a collision of stars. hot, burning, and oh so messy.

he kissed you with everything that he had. everything that he was, everything that he wasn't, everything that he wanted to be for you.

because you deserved more than being forgotten.

deserved something good.

something new.

yuta hadn't kissed many people in his life. it showed in the way his knuckles cramped. you noticed it in the clumsiness of his kiss that doubled down as roughness. in the way he hardly let you breathe before he pulled you back in. like he was trying to gulp down your very soul.

his lips were soft. his kiss was scathing. he pulled away to hear you gasp on his mouth only to drag you back in.

you should push him away. push him away and tell him to leave. push him away. push him away.

instead, you melted.

into something ruinous, something raw, something ravenous for love from the depths of your very soul. and you— kissed him back.

like he wasn't your former student. like he wasn't ten years younger than you. like he wasn't the relative of the reason tears were dried on your cheeks.

your fingers curled around his jacket. gasping for air as he parted. trying to call his name— to grasp reality— to stop yourself.

"don't," he rasped. fingers coiling tighter. eyes whispering the abyss yet alluring you all the same.

"just let me have this. just once. just let me love you, please."

and then he kissed you again. hotter. rougher. an inexperienced mouth, and yet it sought to worship you. tongues tangling and teeth knocking. as his blunt nails dug into you and flushed you into him.

old against new. inexperience against experienced. scared against sure.

skin-to-skin. heart-to-heart.

you whimpered. broken, ashamed, raw and — wanting. god. what were you doing?

it ended softer than it began. his kiss melted off of your lips. left your heart hammering and soul shaking.

dark lashes fluttered. pupils dilated. his lips just as swollen as yours.

yuta whispered something against your mouth.

three words.

sinful. scary.

oh, so, sure.

and you shattered.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ looked confused when you told him to leave. when you shoved at his chest and pulled away from him. curled into the corner of the couch as you ripped yourself from his embrace.

did he have the wrong impression? did he hurt you? force you?

no.

no, you kissed him back.

and that was the problem.

"you—" you choked, tucking your head away. like you couldn't bear to look at him. "you should leave. please leave."

he listened.

because he respected you too much to oppose. loved you even more to disobey you.

"okay," he spoke, soft. steady. as if you both hadn't crossed a line. well over danger and knee-deep in scandal.

as if his mouth wasn't on yours.

as if it didn't feel so right.

"okay, I'll leave," he assured. tender as he put space between you both. eyes selfishly lingering on you even as you quivered. holding yourself back from the reality that you both already knew.

he stepped away. easy. too easy. heading for the door and giving you your space. because loving you meant listening to you.

but not before he called from the door.

"just don't regret it, okay?"

not scared, or sinister, or even smug.

serene.

sensual.

"don't ever regret wanting something new."

he left. with his kiss still a ghost on your lips. and his words a phantom that would haunt your very being.

a curse. a caress.

I love you.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine & @/pixopix . art cred: @/相田 (twt) & @/udaysharmaarts (ig)

he just didn't know how he kept getting fucking lucky— just enough to make it through the surface and make a living for himself even if everyone got mad at him all of the time for it.

because he sucked. he knew that he did. and no matter how many times he met with his management to try and figure out what the hell to do to improve, or tried to better his play on his own with extra hours of training that damn near broke his joints on multiple occasions from overexertion, it was like yuta repelled at being someone that was just— good at something.

it wasn’t the greatest feeling loving a sport that seemed like it didn’t exactly want him in return... but he enjoyed it anyways, opting to make the best of it until he ultimately officially got canned.

and he especially grew to enjoy it when he met you.

the photographer for his team.

“maybe tuck the ball under your arm for me? instead of—yeah! yeah like that!—”

yuta’s trembling hands, buzzing pink cheeks and sweating everything was doing nothing for him in this moment as you stood in front of him, wildly pretty and so sure of yourself as you took pictures of him for the monthly newsletter, camera in hand as you clicked way and angled your body here and there to get the shot you wanted.

he gulped.

“i feel like your bicep looks even bigger that way.” you smiled cheekily, setting your camera down as it hung around your neck with a strap.

e— even big—

“it’ll make the girlies excited for sure!”

he blushed furiously at you noting something like that, letting out a nervous squeaky laugh as he dropped his gaze to the way he was holding the ball now, fitted in his freshly cleaned football gear out in the middle of the field, just the two of you.

“does it— does it really..?” his wobbly smile tugged at your heart strings, a reassuring one of your own smoothing over your face in response. “i feel like they're usually yelling at me from the stands heh...”

you amusedly rolled your eyes with a shake of the head, picking up your camera again to capture a few more shots. “everyone yells all kinds of things from the stands yu.”

“they usually say i need to be benched or traded...” he spoke quietly, comically unfocused traumatized eyes staring off ahead as you gently fixed the positioning of his other arm.

you snorted and stepped back.

“yeah well you’re the one in the nfl and they’re the ones spending money to come see you anyway so they can rot in hell for all i care—”

he giggled then, wholeheartedly as he diverted his gaze, feeling amused yet incredibly ashamed at your statement all at the same time.

the title didn't feel rightfully earned to him... he didn’t deserve it for his atrocious play on the field.

“what?” you asked softly, popping your head up from the brink of taking another picture. “did i say something wrong? i'm sorry yuta i— that probably wasn’t appropriate—”

yuta frantically shook his head, big eyes locked on you as he flailed his unoccupied hand out in emphasis.

“no! no absolutely not you’re— you’re okay y/n...”

your shoulders gradually dropped in relief, thankful that yuta was one little gem that didn’t seem to mind anything that flowed off your tongue that was technically considered extremely unprofessional, more so if it was anyone else.

you were thankful he was a friend.

“i was just thinking a little.” he sent you a small timid curve of the lips, going back to the pose you’d instructed for him previously.

you hummed, shutting one eye to continue taking photographs, the camera shuddering and clicking away as you spoke.

“thinking? about what?”

yuta had known you ever since he made the national league team, and he’d loved you for just as long, deeming you one of his closest friends besides his other senior teammate— the singular person who tolerated him and didn’t scold him for accidentally dropping passes, and a cheerleader he’d come to meet nearly two months ago that danced for his team, her being the one he babbled and poured his heart out on a silver platter for about you and everything that you did.

and he felt so bad each time that he did... accidentally tasking her with listening to him hopelessly rant and rant even through her soft-hearted reassurances that it was okay...

he just didn’t think he could ever forget the way he felt when you first spoke to him, pathetically enough.

but he couldn’t think of you that way.

“about how badly i might botch our homecoming game.” a sad half smile grew. “i might get booted this time if i'm lucky.”

you gawked, jaw hung to the ground.

“yuta why would you say something like thaaatt!” you whined, beginning to flick through the photos on your camera to give them a check over. “don’t do that please... it’s not fair to write yourself off already for something that hasn’t happened. for something that won’t happen.”

he gnawed at the inside of his cheek, desperately wanting to believe you... but his bumpy track record was weighing heavy on his shoulders to remind him that he simply couldn't.

“you’re right i'm sorry.” he spoke softly, and you eased a little by his tone, putting your camera down and walking over to gently take the football from underneath his arm, his ears going pinker the closer you got to him.

you were aware of yuta’s unfortunate reputation, and you were even more aware of how he was treated by everyone else because of it.

“you’re alright yu don’t apologize.” you smiled warmly, your gaze swimming in sympathy and worry as you looked at him. “i just don’t like it when you’re mean to yourself about it... everyone has different strengths that come across in different ways. you have strengths that come across in different ways.”

“i don’t think people will ever see it that way though.” he lightly laughed, and you moved your head to catch his line of sight directly, expression serious.

“i see it that way.” you pushed softly. “hold onto that for a little until the rest of them do.”

yuta's heart felt like it was about to burst.

out of all his miserable years of dealing with people telling him he wasn’t doing this right, or fumbling that or—or jeopardizing whatever—

you were the first to ever show him genuine sugary kindness in the otherwise unforgiving industry he was involved in, and some he desperately needed and clung onto the minute you flashed him your gorgeous grin and encouraged him on his very first day, despite feeling like he truly reached the finish line for his career and was done for.

but it was wrong to think of you that way.

because the sole reason as to why yuta spent his days moping around gloomy and miserable and frustrated other than not being able to talk to you without stammering over his own words and looking fucking stupid...

was because you had a boyfriend.

and he hated himself for still loving you in the way that he did when he respected you so unbelievably much... but he just couldn’t help it no matter how hard he tried to get you out of his head, or begged his heart and head to calm the hell down any time he heard your pretty distant voice somewhere in the locker rooms or out on the field— spending a solid year trying and all it got him was freaking nowhere besides being pitifully still wrapped around your little finger and trailing after you like a lost puppy.

especially on days like this when you were so nice to him, having the upmost faith in what he could do when no one else did.

“th— thank you.” he shakily grinned, yet sweet as you nodded and patted his bicep.

“of course!”

you picked your camera back up again and quickly made a final run through over the photos you took, satisfaction swelling in your chest as you spotted several that were up to your standards and perfect for the newsletter.

you always enjoyed photographing yuta in particular, because despite the fact he was often bashful and a little unsure of himself, you actually preferred that, most if not all football players you’ve gotten to work with utterly and agonizingly arrogant, often choosing not to listen to any directions or pointers you gave them in terms of posing, talking your ear off about how it didn’t match what they wanted, or because it didn’t line up with the image they wanted to perceive themselves as to the public, or because they just flat out didn’t want to and ‘felt weird.’

whatever the fuck that meant.

so yuta always being the sweetest boy you’d ever met, listening to you and frequently asking you if how he was posing was okay, or what you suggested he do so he could look or work better, made your job so much easier and that much more pleasant.

“you’re all set!” you cutely smiled, yuta’s heart jumping at the sight of that. “thanks so much yu! your pictures look very cute.”

he chuckled, proceeding to strep through the grass and follow you when you signaled him with a nudge of the head to do so.

“are they okay?” he asked, and you quickly nodded, the both of you making your way across the vacant football field to get back to the locker rooms with the rest of the players.

“uh huh! they're lovely yu.” you wrung your hands behind your back and gently bumped your shoulder with his arm, yuta’s eyes trained downward as a teeny smile grew on his face.

“i appreciate you always working with me... i know it can get annoying when i keep pulling you for photos and get in the way of your practice hours... or when i keep fixing your arm twenty billion times heh.”

he snapped his head up and looked at you. “oh no! i don’t mind at all y/n. whatever you have to do to get what you need is never a bother for me, you know that.”

you jutted your bottom lip at his sweetness, his humility a charming yet burdening trait of his.

you always wished that yuta could receive the recognition and support you knew he deeply deserved.

because it was that same humility that allowed every other dickwad in the industry to walk all over him and make him feel awful for nearly fucking everything that he did. he could do no right in their eyes, and watching him ever so slowly lose the tiny glimmer of authentic passion he carried for the sport he played— his enthusiasm washing away bit by bit, the fiery flickering bud diminishing before you could attempt to salvage it, and the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker with every new day you saw him... made you sad.

you didn’t want yuta to lose himself due to the rather harsh expectations of others, when you knew probably more than anyone the exact grit he carried underneath his skin for football, his management refusing to just give him the grace nor chance he needed to let it properly flourish, and for the dumbest reasons you’d ever heard too.

it was the ‘cost of resources’ they had explained to you when you stomped your way through headquarters on a particularly brutal game for yuta, him accidentally butchering a touchdown simply because his teammates had zero faith in him and refused to pass him the ball, their hesitancy being the actual cause of his team losing rather than yuta.

though they blamed him anyway that night.

as the team's photographer there really wasn’t much you could do... but you felt it was worse to stay silent rather than weasel in the teensiest of input, one you hoped would one day fall on the right ears of someone willing to actually better the structure of training players, rather than favoritism or spending it on useless renovation plans for the stadium.

because sure, yuta wasn’t the greatest player... but he was far from the worst that they insisted he was.

and you fucking hated it.

“do you have any plans for the weekend?” you chirped as you both walked through the locker room doors, yuta pondering for a moment.

he didn’t ever really have much going on besides wallowing in anxiety and despair over any upcoming games...

“ehh— not really!” he chuckled, you following along as he made his way to his designated cubby, internally happy to see that the locker rooms were vacant so he could have some time with you for a little while.

“i think i might go out and buy rika a new cat tree... she destroyed the one she has now during the last away game we had.”

you giggled, yuta subconsciously smiling a little at the tune as he tugged at the straps of his football gloves off, the velcro ripping as he went.

“that silly kitty...” you tutted, taking a seat by him on the bench, calmly watching him crouch and begin to rummage through his cubby. “she always loves committing crimes when you’re not home.”

“definitely.” yuta huffed out a laugh with a shake of the head, organizing his things in preparation for next weeks practice. “a couple of days ago i came back from the market to see all my dishes shattered in the kitchen..."

“shut the fuck up!” you gasped, hand flying over your mouth as he giggled softly at your reaction, nodding.

“yeah... but it’s okay.” he smiled, standing upright and taking a seat next to you on the bench. “i have a hard time staying mad at her so i gave up on trying to get her to behave.”

you laughed again, and it only made yuta’s heart do a little giddy leap, head hung and eyes trained to the ground below in the hopes of you not seeing how red in the face he stupidly was.

“what— what about you?” he asked, wringing his palms together and settling them between his legs. “do you have any plans?”

you perked up. “i do! my boyfriend and i have plans to see a movie and then maybe get dinner after.”

he swallowed.

“that sounds like fun.” he sent you a weak smile. “what um— what movie?”

“i don’t even know.” you snorted. “he picked it! or— said he was gonna pick it... i’m not sure if he’s bought tickets yet actually.”

worry brewed in his chest a bit, ache mixed with frustration as you went on about the rest of your plans that you weren’t even sure were entirely confirmed.

situations like this were almost routine like to hear from you, because your boyfriend also happened to be a fucking asshole.

in the year that he’d known you, yuta lost count of how many times he cancelled on you last minute to do god knows what, or blatantly ditched whatever plans you had made for the two of you in exchange for doing something else that catered to just him, or was just— mean to you all of the time.

that fact bothered yuta the most.

he didn’t like the way he spoke to you at all, and it seemed like you were too used to it to— realize that it was rude, your boyfriend flat out too dismissive and neglectful of you and yuta having no idea how a sweet thoughtful girl like you ended up with someone who treated you like that.

you deserved to be respected and have everything you’ve ever wanted in your life, and whether it was with him or not that wasn’t what was important to him in this situation.

because yes it hurt like fucking hell to hear you talk about him, see you with him whenever he came to football events— your pretty doe eyes sparkling and widening as you stared at him like he was everything and not at all the arrogant fuck he was... but yuta’s feelings for you were to the point where he’d be at bittersweet ease if you were at least with someone who was good for you. treating you kindly.

“you should call him about it... just to be safe.” he spoke quietly, expression unreadable as he stared ahead at his cubby. “please.”

he didn't want you to be disappointed again.

“oh i will!” you kindly smiled, standing and slowly stretching your arms out over your head, slightly twisting your body left and right to soften out your limbs with yuta keeping his gaze straight ahead to avoid getting a peek at your soft tummy.

“i’m sure he booked it i just haven’t asked him about it.” you let your arms fall back to your sides before sending him a gentle smile, placing a palm on his head to give it a little pat. “i’ll be okay yu don't worry.”

his cheeks bubbled pink then, shy eyes briefly flickering up to yours with a teeny grin, dropping just as quick as they came with a nod.

“n— no yeah! of course.”

your fingers slipped from his raven strands and you took a step out.

“i’ll edit your photos and send them early so you can approve before i submit for the newsletter.” you informed him, yuta following suit and standing from the bench. “just to make sure you like them.”

“sure! thank you y/n.” he breathed out, the heavy exhaustion from today’s practice suddenly catching up to him. “is that how it normally is when you take the other guys’ photos?”

“nope!” you snickered, picking up your camera and holding it up to your face, squinting an eye. “special perks just for you sir. ‘cause you’re not a dick to me.”

he laughed, a pearly smile stretching across his face as he watched you snap another singular photo, the bright white flash blocking his line of sight for a swift moment until it dissipated.

“do the others still give you a hard time?” he curiously asked you, grabbing the collar of his jersey and bending over a bit to give it a quick tug off, his shoulder pads and protective plates sliding through his arms before his head popped up from underneath.

“no not as bad as when i first started.” you reached over and helped him slip the rest of his uniform off his arms, him sending you a grateful closed-lipped smile in response as you readjusted his white undershirt by the hem, the same hand then moving up to fix over his slightly disheveled hair.

you were so sweet he could die.

 “they just get sassy when they don’t like the poses i tell them to do.” you sighed as you drew your arm back, and yuta quirked a brow, proceeding to separate the fabric of his jersey from the preventative padding.

“still?” he shook his head, setting down his equipment in his cubby. “i’m sorry y/n... they’re just pictures i never understand why—”

“just pictures..?” you pouted, and yuta immediately snapped his head up from the sound of your tone to look at you, blown out horrified eyes scouring over your sulky little face in a panic.

oh god—

“n— no! that's not what i meant! i— they're not just pictures i love your pictures so much i just meant—”

you giggled hard then, hand hovering over your mouth as yuta’s cheeks grew pinker with every cute hiccup and chopped breath he heard slip past your lips.

“i’m kidding!” you quickly set your palms on his broad shoulders and gripped, shaking him a little to ward off his fidgety alarm— fighting through the silliness of it yourself to straighten up for him. “i'm just— heh!— i'm messing with you yuta it’s okay... i know what you meant.”

his shoulders slumped in fucking relief, placing a hand over his pounding heart as he dropped his head back and groaned.

“don’t do that...” he breathed out. “i thought i hurt you.”

you snickered some more and gave his shoulders a squeeze before letting go.

you found it endearing how gullible yuta was sometimes with people, as you took note of how much effort he put in never wanting to commit a sliver of harm to anyone if he could help it, even if they weren’t exactly the same with him.

“absolutely not sir.” you quipped, setting a hand on your hip and drumming your fingers along your camera with the other. “i’d never let you do such a thing to me.”

he giggled squeakily and nodded, briefly tossing his folded up jersey inside his cubby. “good! and don’t let any of my other teammates either.”

“ppffttt!—” you blew out, a silly rise to your brow. “yeah like i'd ever even let them open their mouth to talk to me like that. they fear me yu.”

“do they?” he cheekily grinned, dragging his bulky backpack out and plopping it on the bench beside you both, beginning to pack his things for the night. “who? how so?”

“i photographed itsuki last week for the newsletter and he was throwing a bitch fit.” you explained, watching as he finished up and zipped his bag closed, hoisting it over his shoulders.

yuta looked at you bewildered.

“why?”

you pouted again, and it made his heart squeeze just like before.

“he didn’t like my posing ideas. and then when i told him to suck it up he didn’t like my attitude.”

yuta burst out laughing, the admiration he already had for you increasing tenfold as you explained to him the maddening interaction you had with his teammate, the two of you officially packing up, making your way out of the locker room entirely and through the nearly vacant stadium as you conversed.

nights like these were yuta’s favorite type of nights, where the both of you managed to stay late enough for whatever reasons that you both had going on throughout the day, which in turn granted him the lucky privilege of getting to spend a bit of extra time with just you— not surrounded by the bustling crowds of everyone else that was clocked in, his incredibly loud teammates, or any other commitments that prevented him from straight up catching a fleeting glimpse of you for the day.

it was nights like these were yuta selfishly had pretty you all to himself.

even if it was just for a little while.

“wait what did you end up doing? were you able to take his pictures for the newsletter?”

yuta pushed open an exit door to the stadium and stepped off to the side, allowing you to go through first and out into the icy crisp night air before he followed suit.

“i had to force him yu. the man refused to listen to me and it was fucking exhausting.”

“what the hell is wrong with him.” yuta mumbled, his brainly cogs turning as you walked through the parking lot, the loose pavement gravel crunching beneath your shoes with each step. “he’s always been kind of bratty like that actually... coach has told him to stay in position and not chase after the ball so many times and he just— doesn't listen.”

“because he wants to be the one to make touchdowns that’s why.” you sighed through your nose, eyes scouring the never ending rows of vehicles and trying to remember where you parked yours.

“greedy greedy man...”

yuta smiled at the ground, though a small twitch to the brow gave away his discontent.

“you’re probably right but— i don’t really like that he’s mean to you y/n...” he turned his head to look at you, bashful concern etched on his kind face. “you have nothing to do with whatever’s happening on the field.”

you frantically waved him off, shaking your head and feeling bad that you’d stressed him out for probably the millionth time today.

“no! i promise you i'm alright yu don’t worry.” you brightly grinned, readjusting the strap of your bag. “this isn’t my first rodeo with these kinds of things... i used to babysit before i got into photography heehee! but thank you!”

he giggled boyishly and nodded, thankful that you were quite literally the definition of self-assuredness and confidence, if not way better, you never letting anyone minimize you or— or speak to you a certain way without you biting back, something he profoundly admired about you and could only wish to replicate for himself someday.

so yuta couldn’t understand why you’d made the exception for your boyfriend.

“oh! i see my car! oh thank god i couldn’t remember where the eff i parked—”

you turned to him and smiled once more, a rosy hue to the tip of your nose and precious cheeks from the frosty nipping air, both of your breaths puffing out in misty clouds as you spoke on.

“thank you for walking with me! are you far from here?” you craned your body and looked around the parking lot. “if you are let me drive you to your car so you’re not walking in the cold—”

“oh i'm— i'm okay! thank you!” he breathed out, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. “i’m not too far away i can walk.”

“kay.” you briefly dug through your bag and pulled your keys out. “i’ll see you next week then? monday?”

“uh huh! monday.”

walking to the driver's side of your car, you unlocked it and pulled open the door before tossing your bag in, hoisting a leg up.

“give rika a kiss for me!” you called from over your shoulder, and yuta quickly nodded with friendly quirked lips.

“i will! drive safe please!”

“you too!”

and you shut the door, yuta taking a few steps back then and watching as you turned on your ignition and switched to reverse, easing your way out from your spot until you eventually shifted gears— sticking a waving hand out the window as you drove off into the night and out of the parking lot.

yuta didn’t let his arm down until you were completely out of sight from where he was, standing there for a few more seconds with a battering fuzzy heart, his chest swirling with affection for you that he desperately tried to get under control and shut up.

it was embarrassing in a way, when his twisted mind often wrongfully swapped out where your boyfriend stood next to you at his games... with himself, picturing that it was him you were looking at like that, or imagining what it would be like to literally just hug you, or hold your hand or— or share something with you that made you so happy and had you smiling for him— all in the attempts of mending over the ache, a burden that resided permanently in every nook and cranny of who he was.

he knew fantasizing about shit like this wasn’t the healthiest for him… and not to mention disrespectful to you, doing more harm than good.

but yuta simply couldn’t help himself.

you were worth someone to think about, and he justified his daydreams by keeping them exactly as they were and nothing more. as daydreams.

daydreams he sort of made peace with taking to the grave.

it was a constant never ending warfare between morality, temptation, and heavy longing that often plagued his every thought after getting to speak with you— similar to this moment, with him shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and finally walking away, head hung low and his brain contorting and pulling with lovesick guilt as he made his way to his car, it actually parked the complete opposite from where yours was.

because nonetheless...

he was looking forward to monday.

“what do you mean you didn’t book it?”

your boyfriend simply shrugged, bored eyes glued to the tv in your living room— planted on the couch as you stood there in fucked off disbelief that it seemed like he genuinely didn’t know what the hell you were talking about.

there’s no way there’s no way—

“i thought you did..?” he barely even spared you a glance before his gaze flickered back to the screen ahead, your heart sinking once you realized that he was indeed doing this bullshit again with you.

“reno— you said you would!” you explained exasperatedly. “you told me last week that you’d book a movie and make dinner reservations—”

“did i?” he mumbled. “i’m sorry babe i’ll book them for a different day. promise.”

he spoke so— passively. entirely distracted and embedded in whatever the fuck he was watching, refusing to give you the time of day as you stood there with your hair and makeup done, trying to suck back the familiar burning tears that prickled at your eyeballs.

“you said that last time.” you spoke softly. “and the time before that.”

“well i’m here now aren’t i?” he stood with a grunt and sluggishly made his way to the fridge, pulling it open and bending to rummage through. “why can’t we just stay in—”

“no reno we always stay in...” your voice quavered. “and you said—”

“fuck what i said y/n i don’t remember.” he snagged a beer bottle from the back and shut the fridge, turning to face you and eyes narrowing into slits.

“are you seriously crying? what did i even do?”

“you literally talked out of your ass and planned this shit with me!” you yelled, hands flailing out in desperation. “the least you could do is cancel on me ahead of time instead of letting me get fucking ready!”

“you’re being dramatic babe stop.” he mumbled, digging into the pockets of his pants and pulling out a bottle opener, hooking the latch beneath the cap. “just come sit down i’ll put a damn movie on. what do you wanna watch.”

you felt a pang through your chest and you shook your head, sniffling before reaching around him and snatching your purse from the kitchen island.

reno quizzically tracked your movements, taking a drink of his beer and swallowing.

“where the hell are you going?”

“out.” you spat, carefully wiping the corners of your eyes as you stepped to the door.

he scoffed. “yeah where?—”

“don’t make a mess in my apartment while i’m gone.”

“babe— i literally drove here to spend time with you and you’re leaving?” he bitterly rolled his eyes. “jesus man i should be the one mad at you.”

“be mad at me all you want. i’m leaving.” you unlocked the front door and wrenched it open. “bye reno.”

“oh my god y/n—”

“—i’m glad you remembered where the beer was in my fridge you asshole!”

and you slammed the door shut, the force ricocheting as you charged your way through the halls of your apartment complex and down the main elevators, hoping and praying that he didn’t follow after you so he’d at least spare the wrath of getting freaking chewed out by you.

you were livid.

so incredibly livid and frustrated and— and hurt as you got into your car, wondering when it was that reno started being so careless with you and your relationship, even when you’ve been running laps around him trying to find different ways to salvage it and go back to the way things were.

it was a never ending fucking cycle— him disappointing you over fallen out plans or forgotten special events, you crying and hiccupping about it until he eventually got over his attitude and softened up for you, sweetly apologizing and buying you flowers or trinkets and treating you like he used to...

kind.

because he was, you swore that he once was. when you and him first started dating that was the whole reason as to why you ended up being his girlfriend in the first place, the first few months genuine bliss until his efforts started gradually declining over the course of your two year relationship.

reno used to buy you flowers weekly and take you out for dinner every other night, he used to parade you around his friends and insist that you’d come along to any outing, he used to drop everything in his life if you needed something as simple as fucking eggs in your fridge.

and he used to make you feel wanted. someone worth thinking about.

maybe that was the reason why you were still with him, clinging on desperately to the man he once was in the hopes that he’d suddenly come back one day.

but he loved you still. even though he was sometimes mean and forgetful you knew that he loved you…

he did he— he just needed a little help is all…

“rika you have got to be kidding me.”

a singular cute meow filled the room as rika pounced off the sandy mess she made— litter sprinkled all over the fucking floor of the living room with scattered imprints of her paws etched in each small pile, yuta standing there with a slack jaw.

“i took a piss for like— two seconds how did you even manage to—”

his furrowed pissed brows made no effect on the little kitty, as she simply twitched her fluffy ears and cocked her head to the side, blown out pupils looking up at him earnestly before she padded her way over to his right leg.

“i lose sleep because of you…” he muttered, watching her curl herself against the fabric of his jeans and purring, trotting to the opposite side to do the same with his other leg, yuta’s heart actively being tugged and manipulated as she did so.

he quietly sighed through his nose then and bent down, gently carding his fingers through the soft white fur behind her ear and scratching, a slow smile curving his lips as rika purred louder and nuzzled her head into his hand.

“silly kitty…” he mumbled. “you abuse the system you know.”

one of yuta's biggest flaws out of the millions he already had with football, was that he had a hard time staying mad at cat, feeling she could go as far as getting them literally evicted from his apartment complex and he’d still give her a peck with a sweet treat at the end of the day.

“what color cat tree do you want?—”

his phone buzzed in his back pocket and he absentmindedly reached behind to retrieve it, his eyes flickering once to the caller i.d. before they shot back for a double take upon realizing who it was.

you.

“HOLY fucking— shit!—”

yuta’s phone slipped from his hand and he made a leaping lunge for it, slamming down tummy first and sliding across the cold hardwood flooring of his living room— helplessly scrambling after his buzzing device for a few tries until he managed to finally snatch it through his panic, quickly answering.

rika stared.

“hel— hello?”

“hi yu!” you sweetly greeted over the other line, and yuta felt his heart quicken at the sound of it.

it wasn’t often when you called on the weekends. actually— you didn’t call on the weekends just on the week-days when he had football practices and you were gathering photographs for the media or management and you needed to pull him for a quick chat—

“is— is this a good time?”

“yes!” he sputtered, using his unoccupied hand to help himself up off the floor. “y—yeah it is y/n… are you okay?”

“yeah i’m okay!” you laughed. “thank you! i just um… have you— have you gotten rika’s cat tree yet..? by any chance?”

his eyebrows pinched a little.

“n— no i haven’t.” he replied. “i was just about to go actually but— rika spilled litter all over my floor...”

you giggled and yuta felt like he was going to die.

“serves you right for leaving her all alone hm? you should know by now that kitty doesn’t like it when you’re away.”

he laughed then and nodded, looking over his shoulder and relieved to see rika still relaxing where she was and not destroying something else.

“you’re absolutely right.” he smiled, a pinky hue rising to his cheeks. “she’s gonna set my apartment on fire if we make it to the superbowl.”

“when you make the super bowl sir.” you corrected. “hey but listen um… i was wondering if it’s okay if i tag along? with— you? to get rika her cat tree…”

he froze.

“not if it’s too much trouble!” you immediately followed up. “i totally get it if not please don’t worry i was just— i remembered those were your plans and i don’t have plans so i thought—”

“no no!” he frantically shook his head.

fucking idiot—

“i mean yes!” he breathed out. “yes you’re more than welcome to y/n i— i don’t mind at all… please come.”

you gasped.

“really?! oh i’m so glad! send me your address and i’ll drive over to your place.”

holy shit.

“okay!” he hurriedly propped his phone up against his shoulder and ran across his apartment to get to his utility closet, fumbling for the knob and yanking it open in search for his vacuum.

“just— just let me know when you’re about ten minutes away!” he dragged the vacuum out and sped back down the hall. “i’m on the fifth floor just press the mail room button, i’ll text you the code—”

yuta had never hung out with you one on one before.

well technically he has, but it was always in group settings with his teammates or staff personnel after particular days, the lot of you meeting up at the bar just down the street from the stadium to have a quick drink and converse, though most of the time it was funnily always you and yuta talking amongst each other with everyone else doing their own little thing.

and there were a few blessed times where you both happened to grab a quick cup of coffee in the mornings right before clocking in… but every single one of these events happened on a working weekday.

never a weekend. and never on your own accord like this.

“rika please get out of the way i can’t vacuum when you’re blocking—”

the cat continued to wiggle her fluffy tail and stay cemented on the top portion of the vacuum, moving back and forth with yuta’s frantic push and pull as he tried to get all the litter off the floor before you got there.

“rikkaaaaa!” he groaned. “please kitty please i’ll do anything don’t do this right now—”

out of all days for yuta to somehow win the random ludicrous lottery of getting the chance to hang out with you one on one, was when his apartment was an absolute fucking mess with his cat being brattier than usual, her still plopped on the vacuum as he accepted defeat— continuing to hastily suck up the rest of the liter with her meowing away.

and he zipped through his place, to and fro as yuta stumbled away picking up scattered laundry or random pieces of trash he happened to spot as he went, all while simultaneously mopping and dusting and disinfecting and trying his hardest to get his apartment to look decent for you, and not a fucking shithole, wanting you to be comfortable in his home and not feel like you were surrounded by typical manly filth...

he was so nervous he felt like he was going to puke.

“rika let— go kitty you know you’re not supposed to be scratching on that!—”

yuta pulled on her as gently as he possibly could to get her claws unhooked from the fabric of his rug, her defiant hissing and blunt refusal to listen making him increasingly more helpless by the second.

“you mad at me for leaving yesterday?” he shook her body a little in emphasis. “is that what this is?”

“meow!”

“rika— how am i supposed to afford your things if you don’t want me going outside?!—”

“—MEOW!—”

a tiny chime rang through his apartment and he stilled.

“rika.” he lowly spoke, sucking in a breath through his nose. “get your nails out of the rug now.”

her ears flicked.

“meow.”

yuta dropped her and stood up straight to get the door, choosing to give up for the sake of keeping his sanity and not lose it more than he already had.

with shaky clammy hands he reached and unlocked the door, swallowing down the ginormous lump in his throat as he grabbed onto the knob and twisted it, slowly pulling the door open while attempting to cut off his ballistic rapid thoughts and seem normal.

he almost didn’t hear your greeting from how loud his pulse was pounding in his ears.

“hi!” you gorgeously smiled. “i could hear you fighting with rika from down the hall heehee!”

his neck grew hot, twitching and fidgeting in place at the sight of you dolled up.

beautiful thing.

“really?” he laughed breathlessly. “sorry she— she's being bad right now so she might—”

as if on cue a piercing hiss echoed throughout the apartment, yuta immediately snapping his head down behind him to see rika standing there defensively, her back slightly arched and pinpoint pupils shooting daggers at you.

“hey no!” he scolded, bending down to grab her. “what are you doing rika, huh?”

he lifted her overhead to look at her straight on.

“she’s the nicest to me... so handle her gently, okay? as if she were a butterfly or a flower.”

your eyes softened over his words then, gaze trained on yuta as he moved to set rika down on the ground, her shrills of protest smoothing to tiny cute mewls.

“i’m really sorry.” he apologized once more with a weary smile, shuffling to the side to let you in. “she’s never been friendly to anyone...”

you pouted and tilted your head, looking at the disgruntled little kitty as you walked in— rika padding away to settle in her plushy bed in the corner of the living room.

“that’s okay!” you cheerfully reassured, bright eyes looking around his spacious place. “i'm the one invading her space so she’s totally justified.”

“i’m still trying to get her to be nicer though.” yuta shut the door and trailed behind you, anxiously toying with his fingers. “it’s one of the reasons i can’t take her with me to public places... she’ll hiss at anyone who talks to me.”

you giggled and turned to face him, the charms on your purse jingling as you did so.

the sight of you standing in the middle of his apartment was something he thought he’d never get to see.

“it’s because she adores you.” you wrung your hands behind your back and smiled warmly at him, his chest fluttering at the look of it. “can’t blame a girl for loving her man.”

he laughed and nodded, though he couldn’t help but apply those words to you.

it's probably why you stayed with your boyfriend... the reasoning simple enough and easy to digest and yet—

he didn’t like it at all.

yuta quietly cleared his throat.

“you uh— you ready to go?” he felt around his pockets for his keys. “can i get you anything before we leave? i think i have um... iced tea or—”

“oh no i'm okay yu! but thank you!” you grinned. “i actually brought something for you—”

you dug into your purse and moved things around for a little bit before pulling your hand out.

on an offering palm lay a little strawberry puff pastry— adorned with sparkling drizzles of honey glaze and chocolate and powdered sugar, wrapped neatly in plastic wrap and a thin pinky bow to tie it off.

“it’s from the bakery down the street from where i live! as a thank you for letting me tag along with you today.”

yuta stared wide eyed and shocked at the shiny dessert, thinking that you were seriously the purest girl he’d ever come to know, and wondering how in the fuck he was ever going to get over you as his hand slowly reached to take it.

“you didn’t have to buy me anything y/n i— i honestly don’t mind you coming along at all...”

he held the pastry in his grasp like it was the most precious thing he’d ever received.

because it definitely was.

“but thank you!” he sent you a big dazzling smile then, the first one you’ve seen to actually be more genuine and happier, the crinkles by his eyes serving as a testament as he looked down at the dessert again.

you grinned.

he must really love cupcakes!

yuta insisted that he drove the both of you around for the day, and the nerves he felt about having you in his apartment were fucking dumb compared to what he felt now that you were in his car— the scent of your peachy perfume utterly consuming his entire being as he drove to the nearest pet store, a deathly grip on the steering wheel, knuckles dead white and his posture rigid, yuta trying with his life to slow his breathing and not make his jitters obvious while listening to you talk.

“did you have lunch yet yu?” you asked, scouring around in your bag again. “maybe we can get something to eat after we get rika her kitty tree.”

“we could do that yeah.” he replied softly, head briefly turning in your direction to see you pull out a small handheld digital camera, adorned with bubbly glittering stickers of hearts and stars and anything else of the like, a charmed strap that faintly rattled every time you moved.

yuta squeakily laughed as you proceeded to then snap multiple pictures of him, snapshot after snapshot as you loomed over the console to get the angles you wanted, a rising blush to his cheeks at your close proximity and the way your perfume wafted in his nostrils, all of it unfortunately causing him to turn his face away and practically hide.

you giggled and leaned back against your seat just as he made a left.

“sorry yu. you're my favorite victim for pictures.”

his heart made a little leap.

a— a favorite?

“i can’t imagine i'm a very good one...” he shyly smiled at you before pulling into the pet store’s parking lot.

you offendedly gasped.

“what in the world— yuta do you have any idea how perfectly candid you are like— all of the time?”

the blush on his cheeks deepened.

“candid?” he pulled into the first spot he found, switching his gear to park and shutting off the ignition.

“yeah! like you’re naturally just in your own element every time i see you.” you shrugged. “everything you do is honest and like... unguarded in a way. you're not at all performative which is something i appreciate a lot.”

yuta could only stare as you explained.

“and it comes across beautifully in photographs.” you finished off gently. “that’s why you’re my favorite.”

he eventually gave you a singular stiff nod, swallowing. “r— right.”

your perspective on the simplest of things was what yuta loved most about you.

and he guessed it was quite fitting for someone like you— a photographer who’s entire purpose and career was to take simple things and interpret them with a lens that was vastly different from others, to find the meaning in something that probably didn’t need nor have one and yet you managed to find it, capturing it and turning it into a project that was entirely your own, to expose that said meaning, showcasing it in a way that made it easier for others to finally understand and take notice of.

and maybe that’s what you'd done with him... maybe that was the reason why you cheered him up after every failing practice or game, or refused to let him talk negatively about himself, or why you even gave him the time of day when his other teammates could probably give way more than he ever could.

or why you quietly sat with him after being the reason for a big loss for his team, his head hung low, your hands folded in your lap, not saying anything and just offering you, your presence and the sound of your rhythmic breathing subconsciously aiding in pulling him from his overbearing thoughts of failure... instead exchanging them for counting your breaths or what kind of charm strap you had on your camera this time.

you were always switching them out depending on the day. sometimes they were dangling fruits, or little pink hearts, or stars.

though the small bears were particularly his favorite.

“...yu?”

he jumped and snapped his head up, turning to look at you.

“y— yeah? yes?”

“are you okay?” you frowned a bit. “you looked upset i— fuck was it because of what i said?—”

“no!—”

without realizing he reached and quickly took your hand, holding it gently in his as he shook his head side to side.

“no.” he repeated. “i was just... thinking.”

you laughed then. “you’re always thinking yuta.”

neither of you seemed to notice that he was holding your hand.

“i’ll have you know by the way that itsuki is my least favorite victim.” you quipped. “i hardly even edit over his pictures. i leave the breakouts on his face because fuck that guy.”

he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, you following suit as the two of you leaned over in a fit of snickers and hiccups, both your hearts healing and feeling happy for two entirely different reasons, yet the outcome was the same.

you were of the same rhythm.

his eyes flickered down and he stilled.

hands— soft— your hands—

“oh god i'm so sorry!—” he ripped his hands away and you jumped in your seat.

“what?! what?!—”

“i didn’t mean it i swear i didn’t realize i'm so sorry!—”

“oh! yu it’s fine don’t worry—”

“i’m being so fucking weird i'm sorry—”

“yuta holy hell relax!—”

once you both managed to get inside, it didn’t take long for yuta to pick out a cat tree for rika, since he knew that girl like the back of his hand and had her likes and dislikes engraved in his mind like a vice, more so for the reason that he’d never hear the end of her meowing complaints if she didn’t like it.

but he funnily dragged out his decision making for the purpose of dragging the hang out for a little while longer with you...

“oh! what about this one?” you excitedly pointed to a cream colored cat tree, filled with small obstacles and ridges that rika could run her claws over. “does she like this color? aww it has a little extra nook! she can take naps in that instead of fucking up your apartment.”

he giggled. “very true! i don’t think she’ll be a big fan of the little dangling ball things though.” he pointed to what he was referring to. “i’ve bought her an obstacle course with that before and she threatened me.”

you snorted, wholeheartedly amused at the fact that yuta’s cat seemed like she was a tiny dictator.

“i wish i had a cat.” you pouted. “reno hates them.”

he raised a brow as the two of you continued walking down the aisle.

“don’t you live on your own?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“yeah but— he’s over all the time so it’d be kind of an issue... OH! look at that one! i think she’d love that one!—”

he frowned.

“y/n it’s your apartment...” he countered softly, following where you were pointing and almost chuckling, as it was actually the exact cat tree he had picked out already for rika.

“no i know.” you smiled up at him. “i just want him to be comfortable while he’s over... i would hate for him not to be.”

yuta pursed his lips, begrudgingly accepting your response and choosing to move on despite the gnawing in his head.

“that one’s good!” he pointed to the cat tree. “good eye heeh! she’ll love that one.”

“really?!” you gushed, your twinkling little eyes hyperactively scouring over the tree. “oh i'm so happyyy! hopefully i get on her good side with it.”

he laughed and took note of the product number so he could report back to the cashier. “you will! i'll tell her you picked it out.”

the two of you then began your trek down to the front desk, the pet store nearly entirely vacant except for a few individuals here and there passing through various aisles, the soft hum of radio music buzzing through the building as you walked and chatted along.

“what do you feel like eating for lunch?” yuta sent you a friendly smile, amused at the way you were taking pictures of practically everything with your digital camera.

“hm?” you swiveled your body around in his direction without taking the device away from your face, the lens pointed directly at him now.

“oh anything yu! i'm not picky.” you snapped a picture of him, the flash going off briefly as you did so. “you can choose.”

yuta showed the cashier the product number once they got to the front, them nodding before disappearing off somewhere in the back.

“mmmm...” he leaned his hip against the register and crossed his arms, eyes trailing to the big windows at the front of the store with a clear view of the outside. “is there anything you prefer? maybe we can—”

he paused, gaze catching a familiar area across the street from the plaza— bustling with people as they walked through several grouped tents and stands, their arms packed full of goodies or paper shopping bags.

“oh the farmer’s market is today!” yuta turned his head to look at you again. “i’ve heard it's really nice!”

“is it?” you asked with a growing smile, standing on your tippy toes and craning your body around to try and see for yourself.

“uh huh!” yuta raised a hand then to nervously scratch the back of his neck. “do you... do you maybe wanna go there? see what they have and we can get something to eat there? if— if you’re okay with that?”

you frantically nodded, completely and heartily in love with the proposed idea as you excitedly looked out the window again.

“oh my god yes can we?! i looove farmer’s markets so much there’s always a stand with a fuck ton of charms—”

your boyfriend had been blowing up your phone pretty much the second you and yuta got to the pet store, all to which you ignored— hitting the mute button and shoving it somewhere in your bag as the two of you loaded up rika’s cat tree, the thing coming in a rather huge box that you made sure was secured snug in the backseat of his car, the both of you starting your walk across the street to the farmer’s market after.

yuta didn’t think he’d ever seen you in this sort of lighting before, with the barely setting sunny rays glooming over your skin and pretty face, your eyes seemingly more brilliant than earlier as they glimmered with each time you turned your head just the right way with the sun, or as they enthusiastically looked over the mountains of produce or endless bouquets in particular stands that you browsed.

and he grinned warmly with every moment you especially lit up at various selections of apricots or peaches, or buckets of lilies wrapped up in newspaper— stopping each time to gently graze your fingertips along the petals and mention how beautiful they were.

yuta didn’t think he’d ever get to do any of this with you... and yet here he was anyway, sharing a basket full of freshly washed strawberries with you as you walked along the busy market, chatting away about almost everything and anything under the sun, like you always seemed to do whenever you found yourselves together, stuttering and fumbling over his words but okay with it so long as it made you laugh.

it was a price he was more than happy to pay.

“how is it that you can’t remember how you started playing football?” you quirked a brow, a hand hovering over your mouth as you munched on a strawberry. “you lying to me yu?”

“no i’m not i swear!” he giggled boyishly, looking down at the fruity basket and picking up another berry. “i don’t know why but i genuinely can’t remember... i have shit memory.”

“you are lying to me.” you swallowed, turning your head as your eyes briefly caught another bucket of cutey lilies while you strolled along. “you’re the one that reminds me half of the time that i've left my water bottle behind in your cubby.”

yuta shyly snickered some more, biting down on the fruit and speaking through chews. “it's like i kind of remember playing it... around maybe when i was seven? eight? but nothing much before that. it's kind of a blur to me.”

you disappointedly sighed, dissatisfied with the fact that you’d never come to know the origins of how a kind boy like yuta became interested in douchey football.

“oh this one’s really good!” he cheerily beamed suddenly, your mind snapping out of its thoughts as you turned your head.

“what?” you perked up. “the strawberry?”

“mhm!” he chewed some more. “all of them are but this one is really sweet.”

“oh! can i try?”

“—‘course!—”

just as yuta thought you meant to try one from the basket, you stopped and leaned over to try his, your lips enclosing around the area that he just bit before gnawing down yourself, yuta’s heart dropping to the pits of his ass and his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

indirectkissindirectkissindirectki—

your lips gradually slid off the strawberry and you munched a little, your expression sparkling up as the extra sweet flavoring coated your tongue and tastebuds, nodding vigorously with a growing closed lipped smile.

“you’re so right!” you gushed, carefully wiping the tiny juice remnants from the corners of your mouth. “aw lucky you yuta! you picked a tasty one heehee!”

yuta remained frozen in place, watching you.

he didn’t know why that made heat rush through every fucking corner of his system, his sick brain replaying what you’d just done again and again as his gaze trickled down to the strawberry— glistening and shiny from just being wrapped around your plush lips.

timidly then— he lifted the fruit and brought it to his mouth, mind entirely blank as his own lips enclosed around where yours had just been to take a bite, yuta’s movements lingering and slow, but with a head that ran fucking rampant at the fact that he was basically savoring up the traces of your pretty mouth...

and somehow the berry tasted even sweeter this time around.

yuta couldn’t bring himself to look at you in the eyes after that as he chewed, for he was too busy simmering in his sheepishness while you continued to skip around and excitedly pull him to different stands, having him pose next to varieties of fruits and veggies so you could snap a photo with your camera.

it was genuinely all too much for him to take, but he didn’t give a shit. not with the way you looked at him and only him in this moment... giggling with him and— talking to him like he wasn’t the biggest fuck up in the world... but someone who was important. special.

you were about to prance off to a little charm stand— the first one you finally managed to come across— when you felt a hand snake around your wrist then, gently stopping you for a moment and you looking over your shoulder to see yuta, an unreadable expression on his face as he looked down at you.

you curiously tilted your head, and he blushed, diverting his gaze off to the side and raising his other arm to scratch the back of his neck.

what the fuck was he even doing?—

“is everything okay?” you asked softly, and his dilated pupils shot back to you.

“y— yeah! i—” he struggled, arm falling back over his side and the hold around your wrist slightly tightening, swallowing the tickling lump in his throat as he stared.

“...hi.”

you blinked before giggling, a cheeky smile bursting through your face as you did so.

“hi yu...” you replied, voice so sweet and soft that his knees nearly gave out.

why couldn’t it be him?

why couldn’t you be with someone that didn’t make you cry?

there were so many things that he wanted to say to you, and a million more other things he fucking couldn’t, everything that was you hitting him like a brick all at once and torturing him, taunting him... dangling a girl like you over his head and laughing in his face at the fact that you could never be with a guy like him.

even if your boyfriend was out of the picture... you were simply way out of his league. you were never meant to be with him.

“...yu?”

slowly, his fingers slipped from your wrist and he let you go, a sunken look to his eyes as he kept his head down.

“s— sorry i don’t—”

you then caught his wrist and he stilled, watching as you raised a hand and ran a gentle fingertip over his undereyes.

“you need sleep yu... how many times do i have to tell you hm?”

he needed you.

because your genuine concern, and the look of your brows slightly pinching together as your gaze stayed focused and anxious on the deep bags under his eyes, nearly made him stupidly fucking blurt that he loved you.

“m’sorry...” he sent you a wobbly smile, and you reciprocated with a tender one of your own. “rika keeps me up at night.”

“you and i both know it’s not just rika.”

you sighed through your nose and let your arm fall back to your side, your other hand giving his wrist a reassuring squeeze.

“you need to stop— letting them so much into your head yu…” you stressed softly. “your management, your teammates, the— the public or whoever… you can’t keep caring so much about what they think of you.”

there wasn’t ever a day that went by where you weren’t worrying about yuta… especially on days where you were all clocked in for practice or team meet ups, you baring witness to most of yuta’s hardships as he was constantly being told his ear off over certain play mistakes on the field, or weekly goals he was just barely managing to meet— his teammates weirdly harboring rights to make comments about anything at him that pissed you off like nothing else in your life.

“s’hard…” he weakly laughed, his pinks cheeks growing deeper as he held your worried gaze. “it’s a constant thing… but i’ve— i’ve grown thick skin to it! i promise i have.”

he smiled comfortingly at you, though your expression didn’t change.

“but you shouldn’t have to.” you shook your head. “you shouldn’t have to do that in the first place and just— do you. as cheesy as it sounds.”

“y/n—”

“you know what i think?”

he paused, his sleep deprived eyes searching yours for a beat before quietly responding.

“what?”

“i think fuck your management, fuck your teammates, and fuck anyone who gives you shit about anything that has to do with what you do on the field.”

you gripped his wrist tighter for reasons you didn’t know nor really understood, but it was almost like— desperation for him to get you to comprehend what you were saying… to believe it, you grasping at anything just so he could find the will to not care and finally let himself flourish at games, without the brooding habit of constantly checking over his shoulder in fear of someone’s unsolicited opinion.

“and you—”

you pressed a gentle finger to the middle of his chest and planted the tip there, a crawling tingly feeling spreading out underneath his shirt by it.

“—should think that way too yuta.”

you tilted your head.

“do you have any idea how much shit i’ve gotten from so many people in this industry because of what i do? and because i don’t have a dick?”

a giggling snort burst through his lips, and you grinned at that.

“i’m serious!” you laughed. “a lot of the time people don’t take me seriously… so they’re bratty and give me attitude and think my pictures are stupid.”

yuta’s face immediately dropped into a frown.

“they’re not stupid—”

you interjected. “i know that… do you see?”

you sent him another kind smile, the rest of your fingers subconsciously unraveling to settle flat over his chest in comfort.

“i get shit from people left and right but i know that my pictures are great just the way they are. i don’t need anyone critiquing my technique or telling me to change— whatever… i figured that out on my own.”

you looked at him pointedly. “—and without following anyone’s expectations... so allow yourself to do that.”

with each genuine sentence that flowed through your lips, they inexplicably moved him, so much so that his brain almost couldn’t fucking process how much of it made sense, and how much of it actually helped him— finally alleviating the sense of burden he felt for himself that he spent never ending hours judging and— and loathing just because everybody else did.

except you.

it was never you that did that.

you were always forgiving and levelheaded, firm in your own decisions about your career and who you were as a person, yuta spending practically every moment of his life since he’d met you watching how resilient you were, how you never let anyone talk down on you a certain way or— give the time of day to those who didn’t deserve it.

you were confident. bright and full of ambition and everything yuta idolized and cherished.

and the way you looked now as he stared with wide wonder filled eyes, you wholeheartedly representing a gorgeous walking angel that cared too much and worried tenfold about someone as painfully average as him, you actually seeing something in him despite the fact that he’d proven time and time again that there wasn't anything to see...

was the most painful yet beautiful privilege he had ever been given the fleeting chance to have. and yuta would never take that for granted, even when the time came to part from you for good due to the way life just was.

you were caught off guard by yuta’s random quiet burst of laughter then, squeaky and skittish and one you absolutely adored, the biggest of smiles stretching across his face as he held his gaze with you, a little happy twinkle in his eye with a hand over his mouth to try and mush his giggling.

“what?” you laughed along confusedly, your hand on his chest withdrawing to your side.

he quickly waved you off, an expression of fondness creeping in.

“you know what i think?”

you blinked. “w— what yu?”

“i think… that i wish i could be just like you.”

you stilled.

“y’know… strong. and determined.” he continued, the wrist you held carefully twisting in your grasp to cradle your hand— palm over palm as he stared down at them. “with you saying fuck everyone n’their expectations... i want to be like that.”

you tried to ignore the pounding in your chest, swallowing the lump in your throat as your own eyes stayed trained to where your palms met, the hustle and bustle of the packed farmer’s market completely drowning over from where the two of you stood, isolating you until it was just you and him and the feeling of his palm.

the warmth of the sun made itself comfy on the skin of your hands, on yuta’s tall frame and on the side of his sweet face... and somehow that really confused you.

why were you confused?

“well i've— i've also gotten in trouble for it in the past so...” your shy eyes briefly flickered up to meet his before they quickly diverted. “find a good middle ground heh...”

“but it’s also gotten you where you are now, right?”

your gaze slowly dragged up to see yuta already looking at you— an aura of ease to him.

“they don’t just hand out your kind of position like candy y/n.” he murmured softly. “so don’t change the way you hold yourself... and don’t let anyone disrespect you either.”

he was truly the sweetest boy ever.

and god you were so fucking confused, but the only thing that undoubtedly made sense to you and felt right was yuta... you pursing your lips before unexpectedly reaching out and wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling him into a squeezing hug as you shut your eyes tight, the side of your cheek pressed to his chest.

you had never had anyone say something like that to you... so it was nice to hear from someone’s opinion you valued very very much.

yuta felt his heart stop and a breath catch in his throat.

“thank you for hanging out with me today yu...” you quietly spoke, your embrace only tightening as yuta tried his best not to pass out. “and for everything else.”

you were hugging him.

just like he’d pictured before except— the real thing was softer.

and smelled like peach perfume.

hesitantly, slowly... he brought his own arms to snake around your shoulders, bringing you in further to his chest as you held him without any means of letting go as of this moment, him hoping that you wouldn’t feel nor hear the rapid beating of his heart while he hugged you back.

“you’re— you’re welcome.”

against his better judgement he craned his neck down, ever so gently leaning his cheek against the side of your head, guiltily wanting to further engulf himself in the sugary scent of you.

“you okay?” he murmured, and he felt you silently nod against his chest.

were you?

when was the last time you felt this way? have you ever?

and... when was the last time reno asked if you were okay? or didn’t make you feel like it was your fault for getting in trouble at your previous jobs because you stood up for yourself?

why was he such a piece of shit sometimes and yet— you always forgave him? why were you letting yuta down by allowing reno to do that..?

at the overwhelming reminder of him, it was like a switch went off in your brain, a bitter one that pulled you from the friendly kindness of yuta and back into the reality that your boyfriend wasn’t the man he used to be.

you pulled away and sent yuta a weak smile, taking a step back and readjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder.

“don’t let anyone disrespect you too, alright?” you pushed with a quirking brow, and he laughed, nodding as he crossed his arms over his chest— trying to ignore the sinking feeling he got when you pulled away.

“work hard and make them feel stupid yuta.”

you chose not to attempt to make sense of whatever the fuck was going on in your head in regards to yuta.

it's not like you could’ve anyway, because you just didn’t fucking know, the only thing being very abundantly clear to you was that yuta was the greatest friend you had probably ever had in your life.

because he spent the rest of your hangout catering to you, making you giggle or pointing out various things he thought you’d like at the farmer’s market, him sometimes coming out of butt fuck nowhere with a glittery charm strap for you that he believed you’d love, which you in fact freaking did, profusely sputtering out how much it was and to let you pay for it, all to which he refused every single time and turned a blind eye, even when you threatened him.

your warnings grew in hostility when he didn’t let you pay for literally anything, especially when it came to grabbing a bite to eat at the first proper food stand you both saw, you trying to jump around his broad frame or squeeze yourself in between him and the cash register to shove through your card, but yuta simply taking repeated steps to block you out— snickering at your huffing and puffing and giving you a pat to the head.

you couldn’t remember the last time you hung out with someone and had such a blast... to the point where you really didn’t want to go home at the end of the day.

but that was okay, you’d see yuta on monday!

“what the hell is that.”

flopping your purse down on the kitchen island upon arriving home, you gave reno a look before your eyes dropped back down to what he was holding.

“chocolates.” he replied, holding the lavish ribboned box out for you. “to say sorry.”

you tiredly breathed out through your nose as you stared at it, shaking your head after a few moments.

“don’t want it.”

you went to step around him and he quickly grabbed your upper arm, stopping you.

“no— babe c’mon wait—”

“what reno...” you sighed. “i thought you’d be gone by now it’s late.”

“why, you trying to get rid of me?” he snorted. “i got you chocolates babe come on... don’t be like that.”

“thanks now go traffic is heavy right now—”

he tossed the box off to the side on the island and wrung you in by your arm, stuffing your face in his chest.

“stop y/n.” he mumbled. “seriously i don’t wanna fight.”

neither did you? why was he just making it seem like it was you that—

“you know i love you. right?”

you bit down hard on your tongue, his words for some reason stinging rather than doing what they were supposed to do.

“hey—”

he squeezed you a bit, and you looked up.

“you wanna say it back to me? you know i've been stressed from work i thought you’d understand that.”

you pursed your lips. “i— i do—”

“but you’re acting like i did something awful.” he countered. “makes me feel like a shitty bad boyfriend—”

“no i—” you quickly shook your head, your heart aching a little as you pulled back a bit. “i don’t mean to do that m’sorry...”

“it’s just hard like— you know i care about you... i don’t know why you’re questioning that y/n. i’m trying my best—”

you gnawed on your bottom lip as he kept talking, feeling like utter shit that you’d made him feel this way and added on to the pile of stress he already had.

you knew his work was incredibly taxing and demanding... it probably wasn’t nice for him to deal with you leaving like that earlier instead of just... spending time with him...

“i really am sorry reno.” you mumbled, and he paused his tangent, a sigh flowing through his lips before he leaned down and pressed a quick peck to your head.

“it’s all good. i just don’t wanna keep fighting y’know? it sucks when you always assume the worst of me sometimes...”

you solemnly nodded.

god why were you such a bitch?

you were always mourning the man he was and yet he was right fucking there in front of you. it was you that kept driving him away and— and making him this way...

you were just expecting too much of him...

you stood on your tippy toes for a small kiss, kindly smiling up at him after.

“thank you for the chocolates ren.”

that was often how it went for you both.

reno would fuck up, you’d get mad, you’d fight, you’d storm off to god knows where until you had enough of a head to come back, he’d give some kind of gift that was waiting for you in the kitchen or your bedroom, and you’d forgive him, along with the bundle of explanations he had for you as to why he did what he did.

and it hurt yes... but you couldn’t blame him nor did you. he just had a lot on his plate and needed patience from you, and you couldn’t understand why that was so difficult for you to just wrap your little dumb brain around the task and be nicer to him.

thankfully though, the weeks that followed up until the homecoming game reno and you barely fought or had issues with each other, you spending most of your time together at your apartment watching movies or just lounging around ordering in food, content to be cuddled up with him and have him without any bickering or disappointments, which definitely helped you stay focused for the big day instead of running your head nonstop through whatever recent argument you’d had with him.

“nanami you need to smile more.”

“i am smiling.”

you snorted and playfully rolled your eyes, holding your big chunky camera back over your face to continue photographing.

“maybe try with teeth.” yuta suggested from the spot next to you, his own quiet laughter that he poorly tried to mask further edging you on into a fit of giggles.

“i apologize y/n.” nanami readjusted his footing and switched the ball to tuck underneath his other beefy arm. “i’m afraid i'm not the greatest with photos.”

you gawked.

“are you kidding kento? do you have any idea how many emails i get from the girlies asking to have you shirtless for the yearly calendar?”

nanami stilled in surprise, a rising hue to his cheeks.

“i— well—”

“i get hundreds of them. hundreds. and i don’t blame them.”

“neither do i.” yuta shrugged with a cheeky grin as you continued clicking away, the camera shuddering with each photo you took. “but maybe you should nanami! you’re retiring soon i think this could be a farewell gift to your lady friends.”

“lady friends.” nanami repeated, voice smooth and levelled as he quirked a brow. “i don’t believe i follow.”

“your fangirls.” you cut in, craning your body a certain way to capture the angle you wanted. “your sluts if you will. your good precious girls—”

yuta burst out laughing as nanami stood there like he’d just seen a fucking ghost, his cheeks pinker than ever as he cleared his throat and tried to get his head straight.

“i— pardon—”

you gasped and popped your head up from your camera.

“wait but would you actually?!”

“absolutely not.”

“nanammiiii!—”

“ten minutes ‘til kickoff!”

several players nodded or gruffed along in response at the announcement, the locker room's ambience picking up in speed and urgency as everyone tried to get in their finishing touches of prep, nervous jitters flying all around with articles of clothing being chucked across the room for some fucking reason that made you laugh.

you turned to yuta then, planting a heavy hand on his bulky shoulder pad and giving him a single shake.

“you ready?” you cutely beamed up at him, and he gulped. “to make them feel stupid?”

“i feel stupid.”

you giggled as your hand slid off him. “stop yu the game hasn’t even started yet... you’ll do just fine.”

“i hope so.” his lips curved into a wobbly smile as he looked down at you, his eyes briefly flickering to the dangling charm strap you had on your camera, the one he bought for you at the farmer’s market, his heart doing a little somersault at the sight even if he’d already seen you with it multiple times.

“you like it?” he asked quietly, his head nudging to the charm.

your head dropped to where he was signaling before it snapped back up, your eyes wide and shimmery.

“yes! oh absolutely yu i love it so much!”

he laughed softly and nodded, a happy little closed lipped smile on his face as his eyes trailed over your bubbly expression, remembering the moment when the two of you had stood just like this... and you hugged him.

he felt incredibly silly for still being hung up on that when it was weeks ago that it happened.

but what was even worse was the fact that he’d even fucking dreamt about it like a creep, entirely mortified by his subconscious mind that it’d snap him out of his sleep— lying awake for the rest of the night until the sun came up and rika was relentlessly meowing from down the hall for food.

“okkotsu.”

he pulled himself from his thoughts and turned to the source, nanami standing by the locker room exit with his helmet in hand.

“the cheerleaders are performing now on the field. you'll be able to speak to miss y/l/n after the game.”

yuta froze in alarm.

“oh yes! of course!” he nervously laughed, scratching the back of his neck and fucking flustered. “i’ll— i'll be right there...”

with a singular nod nanami stepped through the doors and left, leaving the both of you alone in the cleared-out locker room.

“you should probably get going.” you smiled sweetly before setting your camera down, adjusting the strap so the device hung by your hip. “i’ll see you out there? look serious so i can take good pictures.”

“sure thing!” he cheekily grinned, shiny and big and one that made you pause a bit to look at. “i’ll definitely try.”

you placed a palm on his padded up chest and gave him a pat.

“and play yu. just play. don't pay attention to anyone else okay?”

yuta had lost count of how many instances he had where he wanted to kiss you.

much like now, the feeling so freaking unbearable that he had to physically step back away from you, your hand slipping from the fabric of his jersey as he did.

“i will.” he swallowed, eyes everywhere but yours— his change of demeanor making you raise a quizzical brow. “don’t worry heh...”

“what’s wrong.”

he stiffened and his gaze shot to you.

“e— eh?”

“you’re easy to read yuta what’s wrong tell me—”

he wants to shove his tongue inside your mouth that’s what’s fucking wrong—

“nothing! n— nothing i swear!—”

“yuta.”

“i swear i swear please i swear!—”

“okkotsu we’re lining up!”

yuta's teammate came to his saving and he booked it to the exit.

“i’ll see you on the field!” he called out to you, and you grumbled where you stood.

there was definitely something with him...

you waved goodbye and he slipped through the doors, your mind only preoccupied with his weird behavior for a few seconds until it switched to something graver.

his performance for the homecoming game. and the outcome.

“it hasn’t been an easy night for the heartliners so far ladies and gentlemen! they’ve struggled to move the ball and that scoreboard reflects it.”

“— yeeaah that you are right buddy! they’re unfortunately down ten points behind the opposing team and time is starting to become a problem... though surprisingly not at the fault of yuta okkotsu this time around—”

you rolled your eyes and turned down the volume of your radio, pulling an earbud out and readjusting the strap of your camera.

how the fuck were commentators even allowed to make comments like that?

as much as it pissed you off, they were thankfully correct, because yuta was in fact not at fault for the horrendous play his team was doing against the opposing, them basically handing out touchdown’s like nothing almost every minute due to their big fat ego’s, as if them just shy of making it to the superbowl was something to boast about a whole season later.

“hey! y/l/n!”

you spun around to see itsuki, standing by the refreshment station with a squeeze water bottle in hand.

god.

“what can i help you with itsuki?” you replied, clicking around in the settings of your camera as you walked up to him.

“you enjoying the game?”

“i—”

“hey when’s the newsletter dropping?” he interjected, tipping his head back to squeeze a stream of water into his mouth, gulping it down. “i wanna see the pictures you took of me.”

“uhhh probably sometime by the end of next week.” you sighed, your eyes trailing over the active field to try and spot yuta. “i need to get homecoming game photos before i start editing all the other ones.”

“oh sweet! you got any of me yet?” he grinned, and you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek to refrain from snapping at him.

“nope.”

he gawked. “what?! why not?!”

“because the last time we had a photo session you were bratty and annoying.”

itsuki scoffed. “yeah right like i was... you just weren’t doing your job i had to fix—”

“what the hell are you saying?”

your heart leaped at the familiar voice, spinning around to see yuta himself with furrowed brows and a sweaty flushed face, chest slightly pumping from just getting off the field.

“what.” itsuki shrugged.

“don’t talk to her like that man she works with us not for us.”

“i didn’t even say anything? you must be glad though you’re not fucking up the game for once—”

“oh hell no— itsuki!”

your bark made him shut his mouth and look at you.

“the hell’s the matter with you? piss off and go sit back down on the bench.”

“who are you, the coach?” itsuki rolled his eyes. “i’m not listening to shit from you—”

“itsuki knock it off i said don’t talk to her like that—”

“and what makes you think i'm gonna listen to you okkotsu? hm?” itsuki spat at him. “lowest stats on a player i've ever seen—”

you stepped forward and yuta quickly flung his hands on your shoulders to stop you.

“well maybe you should start dingbat! you haven’t scored a single touchdown and you’re benched today for being a moron—”

“itsuki! you bothering the photographer again?!”

itsuki's face dropped and he turned his body to look behind him, the coach for the team standing there a few feet away with narrowed eyes.

“no sir!—”

“the hell are you doing off the bench anyway? go sit!”

itsuki huffed and tossed his water bottle in the refill bucket, not sparing you nor yuta another glace before trudging his way through the grass to get back on the bench, muttering to himself.

“what is wrong with him?” yuta mumbled, his serious eyes watching itsuki’s back for a moment until they switched down to meet yours. “are you okay?”

“oh i'm good! i don't care about that man don’t worry.” you waved him off. “he can spit at me whatever his heart desires i couldn’t care less.”

yuta relaxed a little in relief, though that didn’t get rid of the absolute irritation he felt for itsuki talking to you like that.

similar to whenever he heard your boyfriend do it.

“i’m proud of you, yu!” you gushed suddenly, and he smiled a little.

“yeah? what for?”

“for playing so well!” you smiled brightly. “you're really holding down the fort from where you’re stationed on the field. i got really great photos of you!”

a look of surprise crossed his face and he let out a breathy laugh.

“r— really? i feel like i'm not doing much...”

“you’ve caught every ball nanami’s thrown at you, right?” you tilted your head. “you’re a quarterback’s dream right now heehee!”

jesus how lovely you were.

“i— thanks!” he widely grinned, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his arm. “i appreciate it y/n.”

“mhm! maybe after the game we c—”

you paused suddenly and pressed into your earbud, listening for a bit before pursing your lips to the side.

“sorry yu i gotta go.” you pouted. “communications wants specific shots from the other side of the field.”

“oh that’s okay!” he kindly replied. “i’ll see you later?”

“yes!” you began taking a few steps back. “i’ll come find you in the locker room’s after the game!”

he sent you a thumbs up and you fully turned around, making your way through the sidelines to get to where you needed to go.

yuta was glad he was able to be of good use to you for pictures today, and even more at the fact that he wasn’t screwing up the game like he typically did, it sincerely being because of what you had told him the day you both went to the market, your advice so incredibly impactful and genuine to him that he couldn’t help but hold onto it and adore it with his entire heart.

it wasn’t like you never told him things like that though, because you always did almost every single time he saw you... but maybe it was because it was during a setting that was outside of the stadium and workplace, or because you just looked so fucking pretty to him under the golden light of the sun, whichever it was he didn’t know nor really needed to know.

the point was that you believed in him.

“you thinking about her again?”

yuta jumped out of his skin and snapped his head towards the voice, his shoulders immediately relaxing once he realized it was his cheerleader friend, a breath of relief slipping past his lips as he threw his head back.

“oh my god you scared the shit out of me.”

“sorry!” she giggled. “sorry sorry... but you were i could tell you little lovesick man.”

his cheeks burned over and he fidgeted from where he stood.

“how— how do you know...”

“yuta you were literally just staring at her walking with drool coming out of your mouth.” she shook her head and set her pompom cladded hands on her hips. “guilty i say.”

he laughed and looked down, scuffing his cleats against the grass below.

“i should really stop making it so obvious...” he spoke softly. “she’s gonna catch me one day.”

“no!” the cheerleader quickly blurted, pompoms flailing out in front of her for emphasis before she dropped them. “oh absolutely not okkotsu you’re not doing that. you're not giving up on your wife.”

yuta snapped his head up with humongous wide eyes.

“my— my—”

“mhm yup yup!” she pointed a silly index finger up in the air and wagged it. “your wife your lover the mother of your children—”

with every word that flew out of her mouth— flashed a picture perfect image of each scenario, all of which did nothing but strangle his poor little heart and make him desperately try to simmer down the butterflies in his stomach.

“i feel horrible...” he mumbled, his eyes trailing over to you taking photographs on the other side of the field. “i like her so much and i... i genuinely think it’s getting worse man.”

the cheerleader sadly pouted, matching his line of sight to you out there.

having to hear yuta hopelessly in love with you and miserable was torture for her... as the cheerleader completely understood and empathized with the dilemma of loving someone you couldn’t have.

“because you love her yuta... yeah?”

he was silent for a moment before wordlessly nodding, an expression of guilt and remorse on his face.

“yeah.”

“tell her.” she gently pushed. “please man watching you keep this all inside is making me go fucking loony i don't know how much more of this i can take i worry about you like i birthed and breastfed you—”

yuta burst out laughing and he shook his head, simmering down a little to speak again.

“you know i can’t do that...” he trailed off.

“and why not.”

“her boyfriend...”

“what— the lowlife meanie?” she leaned her weight on one hip. “no mercy for him i don’t care.”

he sadly smiled at her, the both of them holding eye contact for a bit until the cheerleader eventually sighed.

“i know i know...” she spoke softly, her gaze switching to the field. “i’m so sorry yuta i really am...”

the two of them knew that it was no use, that it was inevitable unless you took a stand and put an end to your relationship that did nothing but hurt you and kept you blind to the fact.

“please don’t give up anyway yuta.” the cheerleader smiled sweetly at him, a twinkle of gloom in her eyes that matched his. “i know it seems impossible but i... i swear she’ll realize it soon. i'm still hoping for it.”

her kindness tugged at him, and he nodded, tearing his gaze away from you to look at her.

“thank you.” he gave her a pat to the head before retracting his arm back to his side. “i’m still hoping for it too.”

“no but seriously.” she pushed again. “i remember when i was crushing on my boyfriend— i thought that there was no fucking way he could ever feel the same way about me... i was devasted for so long because i convinced myself it was impossible.”

yuta quietly listened along.

“i was in such concerning amounts of denial man... and i was fucking stupid because he was giving me signals left and right that he did in fact like me.”

she bent down and swiped her pompoms up off the floor.

“my point is— i thought i was hopeless and done for for me to ever be with a guy like him... and now i've been with him for two years! sweet right?”

he giggled, nodding with a fond smile on his face. “very sweet! i'm happy for you.”

“thank you!” she smiled. “i’m saying that you’re not hopeless and done for either... she’ll come around yuta. you deserve so much to be with a girl like her.”

that was something that yuta truly didn’t believe... for a girl like you was way too good for him and way too out of his league...

was it okay for him to think for a little that maybe— he did deserve the right to have you..?

“oh!— here comes mommy i gotta go so you can have her all to yourself—”

yuta choked on his spit at what the cheerleader said, his cheeks blazing red and her doubling over in a fit of laughter.

“i’m— i'm sorry are you okay?! i— HAH!— it’s true though she’s such a mommy!—”

“who is?” you cut in.

“NO ONE!” yuta hurriedly tumbled out, panicked hands flying out in front of him as he cupped them over the cheerleaders giggling mouth. “no one is she’s just— she’s just being funny—”

“why are you silencing my girl yu?” you quirked a funny brow and shook your head. “hands down silly boy.”

he listened and instantly dropped his hands, the act only making her cackle.

“hi y/n!” she spoke through her laughter, extending her arms and pulling you in for a friendly hug. “you doing okay?”

“yes i am my love! and you? how's your first homecoming game going? is your boyfriend here to see you?”

“uh huh! he is!” she excitedly nodded, pointing behind her to a guy sitting in the v.i.p section with black spiky hair, dark sunglasses over his eyes. “and it’s going great! i'm tired and my boobs are sweaty but i'm good!”

you giggled.

“but speaking of boyfriends...” she trailed off, wringing her pompom cladded hands behind her back, leaning forward and bouncing on her tippy toes. “how are you with yours?”

yuta squirmed as he stood there, unsure if he should leave to respect your privacy or— or stay—

“oh we’re fine.” you smiled. “our anniversary is in a couple of weeks so i'm looking forward to that.”

he felt his heart ache a little, his eyes briefly catching yours before you both quickly looked away.

“aw how fuunnn!” the cheerleader gushed. “is he still being a dick?”

yuta froze at her forwardness and you laughed.

“thankfully no! can you believe it?” you fiddled a bit with your camera, an expression on your face that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “he’s been good we just hang out at my apartment and things... but i'll let you know as soon as he pisses me off again!”

again. that was precisely the problem yuta despised so much.

it shouldn’t be again it shouldn't ever be that...

“leave him.”

you cackled then and yuta choked on his spit once more.

“i’m sorry!” she comically slapped her hands over her mouth, speaking through muffles. “i’m sorry i just love you and he makes me so mad and i just want you to be happy and yuta lo—”

yuta felt his soul evaporate from his body as he shot his arms out and wrapped them around her head, shoving her face into the crook of his arm to quiet down her blubbering that damn near spoiled his love for you and killed him.

“ahah! hahaah—”

“yu!” you gasped. “let the girl go you’re suffocating her!”

“she’s fine!” he cheesed, a big smile on his face to mask how much he was shitting it. “did you... did you catch what she said?”

“what— her hate for reno?” you shrugged. “it’s fine it’s warranted i don’t give a fuck.”

both his and the cheerleader's shoulders slumped, thankful that you hadn’t heard her almost slip up as yuta released her, plopping a hand on the top of her head after.

“i’m sorry.” he pouted. “you okay?”

“oh thank god you did that.” she breathed out, an expression of utter horror etched on her face as she shook her head. “jesus christ i need to work on shutting my mouth i have a really bad blabbering problem it’s my worst trait—”

you laughed. “it’s okay! seriously i do not mind one bit. i've had my fair share of those thoughts too my love.”

yuta and her exchanged looks.

the cheerleader didn’t question anything else after that (out of respect... because she would’ve), and the three of you continued to have small talk until she bid her goodbye’s and skipped on over to her boyfriend in the stands, the sight making you and yuta grin as you both watched him bend down and give her a bouquet of flowers from over the railing.

“she’s the sweetest girl ever.” you hummed, sighing softly through your nose. “i’m glad she has a man who values her.”

yuta nodded along, though his eyes stayed transfixed on you— his brows pinched together in worry over something about you that he still couldn’t figure out, nor did he have the courage to ask in fear of upsetting you.

it wasn’t too long after that when the coach called yuta back on the field, his break coming to a fast close as he proceeded to then hastily prep his football gear and helmet for the game, receiving the usual words of encouragement from you with a pat to his chest before you sent him off with a cute smile, an act he looked forward to every time he played.

and today would’ve been a pretty decent day! if it wasn’t for his destined fuck up.

“okkotsu no! cut through the middle!”

your face was contorted into an everlasting wince as you watched yuta play— what was supposed to be an even pass of the ball from one of the quarterbacks to him as the receiver, yuta was unfortunately running in the wrong direction...

“oh! hard watch for the fans! receiver okkotsu was expected to cut across the middle, but he’s running down field!”

“okkotsu cut through the fucking middle! you're gonna miss the ball!” a player yelled from the sidelines, his hands in his hair and your hands drawn to your chest in absolute anxiety, not wanting to accept the fact that yuta’s mistake most likely had just cost them the game...

you watched him swivel a corner then and attempt to cut through the middle of the field, when a defender from the opposing team swooped in out of fucking nowhere and leaped for the ball— it flying directly clean into his hands, landing on his two feet and making a run for it to the end zone to score a touchdown.

“and interception! that's a costly miscommunication from receiver okkotsu and quarterback shotaro.”

“yuup that’ll do it! man i gotta tell ya, i was starting to wonder when okkotsu would make his big oopsie—”

you groaned in irritation before shutting your radio off and yanking both of your earbuds out, already moving to detach the radio equipment from your waist and get it the fuck off of you, trying to block out the mixture of roaring cheers and boo’s from the crowd as the game drew to a losing close.

“you doing alright miss y/l/n?”

you snapped your head up to see nanami, just making it off the field with batted breaths and his face glistening in sweat.

“when are they replacing these commentators?” you shook your head and finally ripped the radio off, chucking it somewhere across the grass by the refreshment station with no fucks given. “they don’t even talk about the game half of the time! they just talk shit about you guys! about yuta!”

nanami slipped his helmet off and wiped the side of his face down with a nearby hand towel.

“i advise you not to grab a radio from this point moving forward.” he spoke. “they’ve been doing this sort of thing since i made it in the nfl.”

“that's the problem!” you whined, craning your body to and fro to try and catch yuta through the massive crowd of players and employee personnel. “this industry is so corrupt and i'm getting sick of it.”

“i understand.” nanami gave you a tiny closed lipped smile, tossing his hand towel over his shoulder. “being mistreated by the nfl is a given when you’re a starter. okkotsu will find his way miss y/l/n... i assure you.”

you hummed in far off acknowledgement, nodding.

“and i assure you’ll find your way to him?”

you stiffened and jerked your head up to look at him.

“e— eh?”

“hm?” he quirked a brow, wiping the sweat off of his neck with his towel. “what is it?”

“i— what do you mean—”

he simply pointed up ahead, your eyes following to see yuta coming off the field with his head hanging low.

the fuck was the matter with you?

“o— oh. right!" you nervously laughed. “thank you nanami... i’ll see you inside?”

“of course.”

you failed to notice the slight knowing lift of nanami’s lips.

“yu!” you called out, jogging up to him. “you doing alright?”

“i'm about to get fucking booted.” he spoke miserably, pulling his helmet off and shaking out the wet strands of his hair. “i fucked up so bad y/n... they’re all gonna kill me.”

“stop silly boy.” you nudged your shoulder with his bicep. “it’s only the homecoming game it’s fine. you guys’ll just have to work a little extra to get back in the running—”

“fuuucckkk fuck fuck fuck—”

yuta ran a hand down his face in exasperation, shaking his head and actively drowning in his thoughts of self-deprivation to try and listen.

“yu—”

“i’m gonna get benched for the rest of the season y/n holy fucking shit and itsuki isn't gonna shut the hell up about it either—”

“yuta do you even remember anything i told you from our day at the market?”

he faltered, eyes flickering to you as you both walked across the stadium field, shoulders slipping past various others through stuffy crowds while you traveled.

how could he forget? he’d be stupid to forget.

“of course i do.” yuta sent you a timid sweet smile. “fuck everyone. hm?”

you singularly nodded, satisfied. “exactly. and it applies to this too.”

you were exactly right.

yuta's anxiety and guilt evidently simmered down much to his surprise, his gaze trailing down to his cleats before speaking again.

“you have anything planned for your anniversary? with your boyfriend?”

you felt a small pit in your stomach then.

“not really...” you laughed. “but it’s still a bunch of weeks away so we’ll probably think of something then!”

except you fucking didn’t. he didn’t.

because the weeks that followed reno was radio silent about your anniversary, you dropping subtle hints that were apparently way too subtle for him as he still made zero mention of the date as time passed on, your mind unfortunately preoccupied with the fear of him— forgetting while you hung out with yuta one on one, or took photos for the team to submit for the nfl network, or while sitting right next to reno on your couch— the fear never leaving you and only increased in size.

you felt it wasn’t fair nor right for you to be the one to bring it up... considering his issue has always been having a bit of a lack with planning because of his stress from work...

which was okay. truly... but you’d be lying if you weren’t hoping for— something when it came to your anniversary.

and you figured you shouldn’t have let your feelings bottle up and flat out ignore them until the day came, because you spent the entirety of it in denial that reno would surprise you with something after you got off work, that he was just trying to help you feel better about working on your anniversary period so he had something special planned up his sleeve, just— anything man anything.

but there wasn’t anything. and the bottle you clogged up with all your denial and disappointment and anger, exploded in the middle of you taking photographs for the team.

“reno— i'm seriously getting so sick of your shit what do you mean you forgot?!”

you stood with your phone pressed to your ear amidst the tunnel by the locker room, thankfully the area vacant as the football players and cheerleaders were out on the field practicing and running drills.

“i thought it was next week? shit i'm sorry babe—”

“you’re sorry?!” you felt tears prickle at your eyes, hands trembling. “how the hell could you think it was next week? i bet you didn’t even know!”

“now don’t start putting words into my fucking mouth y/n i'm stressed out enough—”

“oh my god.” you breathed out in disbelief, shaking your head. “is it really so hard for you to— to plan anything with me or— remember anything?!—”

“you seriously making me feel like shit about this?!” reno raised his voice over the other line. “you had work today anyways let’s just move it to next week whatever.”

“whatever?!”

you spotted yuta’s cheerleader friend from somewhere across the field, her already looking at you with the most worried expression you’d probably ever seen on her face, your tears then spilling and flooding over your cheeks and it enough to make her immediately drop her pompoms and run to you.

“you’re such an asshole sometimes, you know that?!” you sobbed, and the scoff that followed from him angered you.

“and you’re dramatic as hell y/n dear god—”

“—put it on speaker babe put it on speaker.” the cheerleader quietly ushered you once she arrived, attempting to steady her breathing from the jog. “i need to hear what he’s saying.”

with shaky hands and a sob tumbling out of your throat you listened, pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker.

“you know i almost got fired yesterday from work?!” reno continued. “and now you’re here throwing this in my face?! can you not think about yourself for just one second—”

the cheerleader’s jaw hung to the floor and she shook her head, quickly tapping the ‘mute’ button on your phone so she could speak without him hearing.

“don’t tell me he forgot your anniversary.”

you sobbed and hiccupped, nodding through your stream of tears.

“he— he did!—”

“—oh my god i'm about to do something really fucking bad to him that’s gonna get me thrown in prison—” she reached and gripped your shoulders. “not even flowers?! a— a kiss on the lips?! and he’s talking to you like that?!”

you only continued to cry and shake your head, your unoccupied hand covering your eyes as your shoulders shuddered.

“babe you have got to leave him i'm being so serious!” she spoke exasperatedly, giving you a squeeze. “he’s crazy! he's insane! he's— he’s broke i don’t know!—”

yuta was starting to wonder why he hadn’t seen you much throughout the day.

especially when you completely disappeared from the field at one point for an extended period of time, something you never did without at least letting him know first.

“take a thirty okkotsu!”

nodding along to his coach, he sent him a small raise of the hand before jogging off the field to the refreshment station, grabbing a water bottle from the fresh rack and squeezing some into his mouth.

where had you gone?

his eyes searched across the large field as he swallowed, a brow raised in confusion as he then turned his body around to try and spot you in the stands or— somewhere, his confusion only growing once he realized that you were literally just gone.

maybe you went home early? that was always a possibility.

he would’ve liked to say goodbye to you at least...

yuta tipped his head back and squeezed a bit more water, swallowing it down and tossing the bottle in the refill bucket, beginning to walk a few ways further off the field to fetch a clean hand towel from the utility station—

when he heard it.

uncontrollable gut-wrenching sobs that sounded a lot like they were coming from you, and a man yelling utter nonsense through a phone speaker that sounded a lot like reno.

he froze in place, heart dropping to his stomach and skin going sickly pale, his feet already hurriedly carrying him to the noise coming from the tunnel— stopping just outside of it around the corner.

“—i swear to god nothing i ever do is good enough for you y/n.”

“are you seriously making this about you?!” yuta heard you hiccup. “reno you forgot our anniversary! you fucked up! why can’t you just tell me you’re sorry?!”

“because i’m not gonna apologize over something so stupid!”

his jaw hardened.

“if it really mattered this much to you, you would’ve reminded me!”

“that's the thing! i shouldn’t have to!” you cried. “jesus what is the matter with you?!”

“what’s the matter with me? look at yourself first before you say some shit like that to me.”

holy hell it took every ounce of yuta’s body and soul not to charge in the tunnel and snatch your phone from you to yell at the piece of shit you called your man, his breathing instead growing ragged as he balled his fists up at his sides.

“reno how much of an idiot— hic!— can you be to not see— that this is your fault?!”

“you always do this!” reno yelled over the other line. “one mistake and suddenly i'm the worst fuckin’ person—”

you sobbed harder and that made yuta’s chest ache so freaking badly, lifting his hands to run them down his face— a blend of frustration and sadness and violence hitting him all at once the longer he listened to your idiot boyfriend disrespect you and hurt you like that.

“that’s— that’s not what i'm saying at all!”

“hang up the phone y/n.”

he recognized that voice to be his cheerleader friend, the tinsiest sense of comfort washing over his head that was just enough to make him not charge in there, relieved that you at least had someone with you to help you.

“you know what? if you’re gonna keep attacking me like this maybe we shouldn’t even talk tonight—”

“fine by me!”

and you hung up, squeezing your phone in your hand while simultaneously digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, your head pounding from how much you’d cried and screamed as you hunched over with your back against the wall, silent sobs wracking through you.

you were exhausted.

you'd spent three fucking years attempting to keep your relationship afloat, doing literally everything— the planning, the just because gestures, the asking to hang out, all of it and yet it seemed like it was never enough for reno, him still treating you like you weren’t even on his list of priorities to begin with.

were you ever?

“goddd—” the cheerleader whined, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in for a tight embrace. “i hate seeing you like this... you’re too pretty to be doing this...”

you laughed a little through your tears, slumping your body against hers.

“i don’t— i don’t know what to do.” you whispered, sniffling.

“break up with him.” she gently emphasized. “please y/n... it’s a never ending cycle until you leave.”

she pulled back and gave you a sad smile, moving to wipe your cheeks with her fingers.

“trust me i've been in this kind of situation before and it fucking sucks.” she continued. “i get you. i get why you stay, but i promise you that you’re currently missing out on a great sweet guy who absolutely loves you and would do anything for you. don't let shitty stinky reno hold you back from that.”

didn't reno absolutely love you? wasn't... he the one who was a great sweet guy and did anything for you?

you didn’t even know anymore.

you silently nodded, sniffing and wiping the rest of your tears away, pulling back completely and sending her a small smile of your own.

“thank you my love.” you whispered. “for being here for me.”

“always!” she beamed. “you know that... and you also know that you need to do what's best for you, right?”

you nodded with a purse to your lips.

you did know it... so why were you still hesitating?

the cheerleader stood with you for another great while until you were seemingly okay, you eternally grateful to have such a kind friend like her through all of it— quickly giving her a suffocating hug goodbye once she was called back by her cheerleader girls and left you alone in the tunnel.

you didn’t know how much longer you stood there for until you decided to head on to the locker room, wanting to freshen up a little at yuta’s cubby and get a fast sip of water before going back out on the field, praying to god that your makeup wasn’t too fucked up.

and at the fleeting reminder of yuta you eased a little, an unknowing teeny quirk playing at your lips as you walked through the locker room doors, eager to find him out on the field and just be in his company—

“hi.”

you stopped in your tracks.

yuta was standing there by his cubby, holding the cutest miniature bouquet of lilies in his hands, his face flushed pink and a wobbly smile that made a breath hitch in your throat.

“not to be weird or anything! but... i— i overheard your conversation earlier in the tunnel...” he chewed on his bottom lip. “i’m sorry i didn’t mean to get in your business like that—”

he stopped himself and sighed, shaking his head as he looked directly at you.

“he shouldn’t forget y/n...”

a new wave of tears bubbled up and spilled, yuta’s shoulders dropping at the sight as he hurriedly made his way over to your crying self.

“no! sorry sorry i— please i—”

as soon as he got to you, you took the lovely bouquet from him and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in there and yuta’s brain going into a short circuit.

“thank you.” you sobbed, voice to a whisper as you clutched onto him, yuta’s heart melting and his arms quickly coming to wrap around you, holding you just as tight if not more.

“please don’t cry...” he murmured through your hiccups, running a comforting hand up and down your shaking back. “i really hate it when you cry—”

“how did— how did you know i love lilies?”

he paused, blinking a little and readjusting his arms to bring you in closer.

“at the market...” he spoke soflty. “you were— you were looking at them a lot.”

something was different with yuta. or you. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

you nuzzled your face into his neck.

“he’s not good for you y/n.”

your brows slightly pinched, trying to calm your sniffles so you could hear what he was saying.

yuta never gave you his opinion on your relationship with reno.

“he’s awful to you.” he mumbled. “he cancels your dates or forgets them, he’s mean to you, he disrespects you, he makes you feel like everything is your fault when it isn’t at all—”

he pulled back a tiny bit and unwrapped an arm to gently wipe your tear-stained cheeks, his eyes sinking into yours and so serious that you couldn’t help but just stare up at him.

“he doesn’t like cats.”

you weakly giggled.

“he takes you for granted. he hurts you.”

both of his hands came around then to cup your warm cheeks— your doey wet eyes and pouty lips making words spill from his mouth that shouldn’t.

“i hate him...” his own cheeks buzzed pink and he diverted his gaze. “m’sorry but... i really fucking hate him.”

“because he’s mean to me?” you sniffled.

neither of you realized, but the space between your lips and his was getting alarmingly close— your subconscious minds gravitating towards each other, itching to be where they’re supposed to be after so long of teetering around in careful avoidance.

yuta dazedly nodded, half lidded eyes tracing over your pretty face.

“because he has something i want.”

your breaths fanned against your cheeks, and yuta could just about feel your lips grazing his, him carefully cradling your face and slowly parting his mouth to nearly slot in between yours, your peachy perfume swirling all over his insides—

when a sudden bang! sprang you both apart, your chests pumping fast as you stared at one another with panicked expressions.

“dude i almost ate shit earlier on the field.”

“idiot when?!”

“when nanami threw me the ball! i don’t think that guy’s real man he’s too huge—”

you tucked your hair behind your ear and looked down at the bouquet, the brown paper wrapping crinkling underneath your grasp as you studied it, the boastful chatter of yuta’s teammates slowly dissipating the farther they trudged down the hall, eventually morphing into mere muffles until they left you in silence.

“thank you for the flowers yu...” you spoke up after a few seconds, your tone soft and shy as your gaze timidly locked with his. “you’re the sweetest...”

he stiffly nodded, willing and begging his heart and mind to shut up about the moment he almost had with you or else he was going to scream.

“s— sure!” he smiled weakly. “any time.”

was this offense from reno finally enough to get you to break up with him? to see that he was a piece of shit and didn’t deserve you in the slightest?

because at this point it was not about you and yuta and how he felt for you, it was literally just for you, for your wellbeing and happiness, for the chance for you to thrive and be happier— freed from the chains of a man who knew how to do nothing but beat a kind girl down and blame her for his mistakes.

blame you. a woman who was entirely worthwhile and deserving of so much.

“you should probably go back out—”

yuta held his hand out for you and you stopped.

nothing mattered in that moment. nothing at all but yuta and the hand that awaited you, nothing at all but the feeling of his slightly roughened calloused skin as you took it, allowing him to bring you in closer so you stood almost chest to chest, your heart starting to race again.

and you were confused.

“leave him.” he whispered, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “please. for you... you should have way more than this.”

should... you?

“you think so?” you murmured back, and he nodded, his thumb gently grazing over your knuckles.

“i know so.”

yuta hadn’t felt this much hope in a long time.

actually— he didn’t think he’d ever. but with the way you silently agreed with him— a cute teeny smile slipping across your face, looking at him like— like he’d seen you look at your lilies... completely caught him off guard. and he would’ve explored it further if it wasn't for nanami popping his head in and calling out about a meeting the higher ups wanted to have with him.

what was supposed to be possibly the greatest night of yuta’s life, turned into the worst.

and not just with the higher ups... but with you.

PART TWO

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