mae

That's why he never told the grandma he always bought flowers from, still dropping by after practice when the ones at home showed signs of wilting.

"What a kind boyfriend you are," she mutters to herself as she wraps his flowers, a soft smile on her lips. The afternoon was warm, still wet from the storm that passed by in the morning. "I hope the two of you live happily together for a long, long time."

At times, he would make meals for two. He hardly ever cooked during the time he lived with her as he was often busy with games and training, but in the days he did, he always made food for her too—a quiet apology for never being around all that much. Now on his own, he would let hers grow cold in front of him as he imagined her taking slow bites, chatting idly about this and that; about what happened at work or what she did during her day off.

Regret had rooted itself into his heart, spreading slowly.

Could there have been any other way? Such question tormented his soul. Could he have erased all the troubles that had been plaguing their home, gave her the love she hoped for? These thoughts lingered, sticking through the day and even during important games when his eye would scout the arena, hopelessly praying to see her as if nothing ever happened.

Free for the rest of the day, Ushijima made his way back home, setting the flowers on his dining table before showering and changing, leaving for a second time. With finals drawing near, pressure and excitement brewed within him. He longs for nothing but to see her once again; to press his body against hers, nuzzling his face to the crook of her neck. And in return, she would run her hand through his hair, uttering all those words that never failed to calm him down.

He is nothing now, it seems. A mere body stuck in its robotic routine, and lately he finds himself distracted. He imagines all the things they could do together—going to that new cafe that just opened up, watching movies, reading books together, traveling the world—

Visiting the local park every year on their anniversary.

How could he ever forget? The password to his phone, the combination for his apartment—he still hasn't taken out the reminder on his phone.

Spring paints the park with vivid colors and people scatter the vast field. The sky, after the morning sprinkle, had cleared at last, revealing the crimson glow of the setting sun.

He doesn't have any excuses, not like he wants to offer any. Although he came out of pure habit, he scans the park, hoping to find her doing the same. And turning his head to the left, he came to an abrupt stop. His heart jumps from his chest, sweat seeping from his forehead.

She was so close, looking so serene, basking under the sun. He calls out her name in a hurry, taking an unconscious step forward.

There must've been a misunderstanding somewhere, he thinks. Maybe she'd already forgiven him and that his number got lost, or maybe she was just afraid of reaching out first—

She turns his way, a wave of fresh air blowing between them. Bringing her hair back to her ear, she looks at him curiously. "I'm sorry…"

He looks down—and oh how beautiful! His confession, though romantic, had been rather plain in his stoic Ushijima Wakatoshi way. But looking at her now, his heart begins to throb, cheeks heating up ever so slightly.

"You are..?"

Oh.

His eyes widen. "What are you saying? It's me, Wakatoshi."

"Wakatoshi-san…" she repeats under her breath, reaching out for some small notebook in her bag. He watches as she flips through the pages, her foreign way of calling him (had been been four years since she last called him that?) persistently ringing through his mind.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes once again, lacking confidence. "I don't think we've ever spoke before?"

His heart shatters, chest tightening with an odd sensation. "I don't understand," he begins slowly after taking a deep breath. "We've been together for four years and…what is that?"

He glances down at her hand, another gust of wind causing her to drop all the things she'd been carrying. Ushijima rushes to his knees.

Reminders. Her notes had been trivial reminders.

Favorite volleyball team: Schweiden Adlers. A recipe for hayashi rice. Favorite flower—the one he always brought home. Names that frequented her circle. And at the bottom, decorated with asterisks and stars:

April XX, visit XX Park.

Even without an explanation, he knew she was there for the same reason. Frozen, he stares at the notes, reading each character over and over again, repeating them in his mind, wondering if he's seeing things. Could she have forgotten? All these details relating back to him, and yet his name remains absent?

"Thank you, Wakatoshi-san," she says quietly, taking her notebook from his hands and shoving it back into her bag in a panic.

He rises, asking for her to wait a moment, but she bows in apology, declaring she had other things planned for the evening. She left him once again.

It's hard to understand Tooru, the man you met in Brazil, because he is not the same Tooru as the one you ran into while you were a student at Karasuno High, not like you had a great understanding of him in the first place. Everything about him now is delicate—his touch, his voice. He's gentle when it comes to you, unlike his attitude on the court, and something about that makes your heart flutter with unknown desire.

He apologized to you in a playful manner, helping you up before making his way towards the arena full of dizzying exclamations and echoes of volleyballs slamming the ground. You repeated his name under your breath, thinking about the hours Daichi complained about him and his calculating skills during lunch. His eyes were sharp, and every ounce of his blazing ambition was etched onto his straight back. Light shined down on him as he escaped the dark hallway, he looked much like an…angel? For the first time, a part of you pitied the opposing team.

You bring your hand up to his face (it's painted by the pale moonlight—how utterly beautiful he looks), brushing back his messy hair before ghosting over his eyes, cheeks, and eventually down to his soft lips. It's past midnight, the clock glowing red behind Tooru almost feels like a warning. You wonder, once again, if this is all a mistake, to let him in without love or loyalty, but you refuse to let it stop—you're unable to, for it feels like you've already been caught by his spell.

His eyes flutter open, catching your hand, stopping your sudden rampage of thoughts. "What are you doing?" He asks drowsily, voice soft and quite unlike his flirtatious tone. "If you keep doing that, it makes me believe you want another round."

You smile, watching him as he nuzzles into your touch. "I was just thinking about how handsome you look," you say shamelessly, noticing the way the corners of his lips rising. "Well, I think you already know that by the amount of girls fawning over you."

"You're so tired you're speaking nonsense," he scoffs. He runs his hands through your hair, holding you close once again. "Since we met four nights ago, I've only had my eyes on one—you."

His heart is beating rapidly, screaming something you can't understand. Is this the result of a lust-filled night? But that had long passed. He'd already cleaned you up and put you in his clothes; he'd offered to feed and bathe you, but you denied his request, wanting nothing more than to just lay in bed and take his presence in. So what is this? You ask yourself, fearing the worst. No strings attached, that was the deal. A quick summer fling.

"What about before?"

His chuckles. "Are you seriously asking?"

"I'm curious."

"None," he replies rather quickly. "I thought I shouldn't let myself get lost in these sorts of things. That nothing should ever get in between me and my career."

"Thought?" You repeat. This is bad. You're craving more than you ever expected. You want to know more about him, this mysterious figure that has been lingering in the back of your mind for years; you want to be the one closest to him, to be the one waking up next to him every morning. "What about now? Has that changed?" Between you, me, and your career, what are we? Where am I in this glamorous life of yours?

There's no answer but his slow breathing, and his hand rests on the back of your head once again. "It's late," he states after awhile. His quick beating heart had slowed down, and Oikawa releases a heavy sigh. "You should go to sleep now. I have to train in the afternoon, so I'll have to leave early."

With nothing to cling onto, your clench your fist. Anything to stop the ache in your chest—a feeling so foreign, so unwelcome. You want nothing but to let tears fall, to ask for his love, to have him move back to Tokyo with you. It was a mistake, you confirm, eyes shutting with force. You shouldn't have opened yourself to him.

In the late morning, Tooru places a kiss to your forehead. "I'm heading out now," he whispers. Still half asleep, you shuffle in bed, groaning. "I'll be back later."

The sun glows and the clouds are shaded crimson. In the evening, Tooru impatiently taps his foot against the concrete, staring at his watch. I'm late, he sighs. His eyes wander down to his grey formal suit and the bouquet of flowers in his hand. If only he hadn't put so much effort into his outfit—

The door opens. Toorus excitement blooms in his smile for a second before dissipating quickly. "Oh?" A middle aged woman had answered the door. "You're the guy the young lady told me about, aren't you? What a shame, you just missed her. She left for the airport about an hour ago."

"…sensei!"

At last, the editor breaks through Akaashi Keijis heavily distracted mind. He jolts, taking his attention from the window to the young man before him. "Were you listening to a word I said?" He asks, disappointment painting a frown on his lips.

"Sorry…" Akaashi apologizes. Looking down, papers scatter their table and their food remains half eaten. "What were we talking about?"

His editor picks up a sheet of paper, tapping his finger against he words 'The End.' "This! Are you serious?" The man springs another question. "The ending feels rushed. Sure, we got to the proposal, so what about her answer? What about their life after?"

Akaashi recalls what he had written a few nights ago. The night when he'd fallen back against his seat, exhaling with deep satisfaction. "I think it's a good ending. Perfect for a sequel book," he replies. But when his editor glares at him, the rookie author nods with understanding. "Alright, alright. I'll try to revise it, okay?"

"You will," he corrects. They briefly touch up on other subjects, and after his editor glances at his watch, he begins to gather his materials. "I'll get going first, sensei," he states, shoving his things into his bag. "Best you complete this before the deadline next week."

Akaashi nods, shutting his laptop and placing it inside his tote bag. "Not today though. I have other plans."

His editor pauses, staring at him for a moment. There's a hint of emotion behind his eyes—concern or guilt, Akaashi can't tell. "You know I'm not harsh on you on purpose, right?"

Akaashi gives him a reassuring smile. "I know. Thanks for your hard work."

His editor frowns once again. "I hope you're taking care of yourself," his editor says with sincerity before taking his leave.

In the afternoon, I took the shinkansen to Osaka.

It's a crowded city—thankfully, not as much as Tokyo. As the brutal storm ends, people begin to wander outside, hopeful to see the cherry blossoms one last time even if it meant beneath the sorrowful sky.

"You haven't visited in awhile, you know." On the phone, his sisters voice rings with worry.

His eyes remain fixated on the people around. Couples wandering about, arms intertwined, taking photos in spite of the weather. He's the only one in his lonesome walking down the street, umbrella still open even when no rain threatens him. I should take some pictures too, he thinks. For her.

"We're all worried for you."

"There's nothing to worry about," he tells her, a smile easing on his lips in attempt to sound convincing. "I'll visit when I'm done with work. I have deadline due by next week."

"You and your deadlines," she sighs, and he can just imagine her—elbows propped on the table, hand running through her hair. "If you continue this lifestyle, you'll only work yourself to dea—" she halts. Silence fills their call. Smile diminishes from his lips, and he finds a puddle at his feet. She exhales once again. "Sorry...Do you know when you're releasing your book?"

"It'll take a while," he replies with a gentle laugh. The thought of it fills him with excitement, enough to make him forget about her previous comment. A book event, his name on the cover, his love story on the pages within. "Though I hope it's published by next summer."

Afterwards, I went to watch MSBYs match.

Tokyo born Akaashi Keiji has spent the last few years rooting for MSBY. Perhaps he always will as long as Bokuto Koutarou stays in the team.

He watches the game with a soft smile on his lips, feeling slightly nostalgic. He remembers his high school days standing by Bokutos side, setting the ball for him and cooling down his nerves. He remembers the day Bokuto joined MSBY. How you cheered for him with enthusiasm.

"Bokuto-san is getting better by the day, don't you think?" You nudged him playfully, eyes beaming at him before turning back at the game.

He only offered a soft hum that day, smiling to himself as he admired you for a brief moment. Regret lingers ephemerally. He wishes he'd said more.

The game ends with MSBYs win.

"As always, Bokuto-san is amazing!" Voices sing praises as they walk past Akaashi.

The corners of his lips rise, watching them leave with excitement still in full bloom within them. He heads out the arena, walking down an abandoned hallway when he's abruptly stopped by the familiar, blaring voice.

"Akaashi!" His name rings in that same, dragged out excitement. He turns, finding Bokuto practically skipping his way. "You're leaving already?"

"Congratulations on your win, Bokuto-san," he comments with a slight bow.

"Thanks as always," he replies, patting Akaashis back harshly. "I didn't think you'd come—oh, that's right. You should take this."

He hands Akaashi a bouquet of flowers, and Akaashi is quick to extend his hand out in protest. "Isn't this from the organization?" He asks before shaking his head slowly. "I shouldn't…"

Bokuto looks at him, dumbfounded. "Yea, it is, but…" He shoves the flowers closer, a few petals gently falling at their feet. "I've got enough at my house. What about you though? You're not keeping your house dull and gray, are you? Consider this a present. I'm sure she'll love it."

The quiet, natural mention of you startles him for a moment. Before he knows it, he's already reaching for the bouquet. "Thank you, Bokuto-san."

For the first time in forever, Bokuto is at a loss for words, letting his reply take the form of a gentle hum. "I have to go now," Akaashi continues. "I have more work to do."

There's slight hesitation in Bokuto's eyes. Questions linger at the tip of his tongue, but he holds it all back. He steps to the side, turning around. "Alright. I'll see you next time. Better give me a signed copy of your novel!"

The sun was setting by the time I got home.

Darkness only welcomes him. With a defeated sigh, he heads to the kitchen, offering the flowers a new home. He places a vase besides a framed photo on top of a cabinet, and another on the dining table. With just two vases of vibrant flowers, his dull home regains life.

Completing his chores, he heads to his office and pulls out a sheet of paper. Even when a deadline looms over him like a siren, he disregards his career for a moment, picking up his fountain pen to write your name. He stares at it for some time, fingers delicately running over it, unintentionally smudging it. A name that holds so much love for him—a name he'd been afraid to write for some time.

He begins writing about his morning. I cleaned the house…watered our plants…met with my editor…had a simple breakfast…Then came his afternoon. Took a shinkasen to Osaka…the rain stopped…watched MSBY…

He writes and writes, never leaving out even the tiniest fragments of details. The dog which always greets us approached me today…leaves are growing back…Bokuto-san is only getting better…and then came a stream of his thoughts.

I still long for you. It's in me like second nature, and I believe it will be in me for life. Sometimes, the emptiness creeps up behind me and hits me when I least expect it.

Trivial details in my daily life. Warmth nestled up to my side when I wake up, the enthusiastic cheers when it comes to volleyball. Taking a break from writing to have some tea and spend some time with you. Your abstract taste in music filling up the silence in our car. Exploring places we've never seen before…Along with you, these things have been taken away from me.

A year has passed, and I still wait for you to rush and greet me excitedly at our genkan, offering me a hug and kiss before stringing me along to our kitchen for dinner. Sometimes, I wish you'd peek into my office and apologetically end this stupid prank you've put me through. But when that never comes, I am overcome with utter melancholy.

…

When he finishes his letter, he doesn't read it. Instead, he folds it up, sealing it inside an envelope before dropping it in his drawer where a sea of unsent letters live. He sighs heavily, taking a step out to his balcony for fresh air. The sky is burning with a palette of colors—the most evident is a bold crimson spread far and wide among the clouds.

From a young age, Akaashi believed happy endings were an illusion created by those stuck in an endless cycle of heartache and denial. He'd always been a logical person, understanding that the world isn't always sunshine and rainbows. But then, he met you. From high school to college, even moving in together, he thought that perhaps life is a lenient soul—forgiving and kind—able to give someone a future free of despair.

Time goes on, seasons change, and the sudden news made him realize the two of you weren't excluded from the unapologetic tragedy of parting. That, no matter how hard he tries to rewrite his fate in his novel, it doesn't change the face that you're no longer here.

A faint trace of spring glides into his home. A single petal flutters, exploring his messy office before landing on a small velvet desk on his desk. His breath hitches, eyes widening at the sight. He steps back inside, approaching his desk.

With shaky hands, he opens the box, a ring glistening underneath the light. It was one he'd bought last year just as the snowflakes stopped cascading and the flowers began to bloom. He recalls the way he snuck around trying to figure out your ring size—how stressed out he was trying to find a design you'd like. He bought it in hopes of promising forever—just before the world showed him just how cruel it could be.

Tears he had been suppressing all year falls without remorse. He drops to his knees, pain scratching his throat as he lets out a strained shout. He thought time had eased all his hurt, but memories he looked back on fondly rush back, squeezing his heart tightly.

Don't go just yet—

After a few minutes, he comes to a halt, petting the horse. "Why are we stopping?"

He looks around, nodding to himself. "We've come far, haven't we?" Your eyes follow him as he wanders, turning around to acknowledge the distance. You don't know how long it has been.

When he returns to you, he unconsciously takes you hands in his, thumbs brushing against your gloved knuckles. His silence makes you feel uneasy. "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"

He flinches, grip slightly tightening. "No, I'm not."

"It's about me, isn't it?"

"You've got it all wrong." You're searching for answers in his eyes, but to no avail. He looks down at your hands once again, thumb still in motion. Then with a deep sigh, he whispers weakly—"My love..."

As if these words were a catalyst for chaos, dawn breaks, and a series of exclamations erupt from afar. He carries you off the horse—a protective arm wraps around your waist and another at your head. "Fuck," he mutters. "I'm sorry."

"What's happening?" You ask. The rumbling which was distant at first began to grow louder with the clomping of horses. You try to part from him, but he only pulls you closer.

"I'm sorry." He repeats like a mantra. The vibrations on his chest reaches you, comforting you unknowingly.

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm—

You jolt awake, breath rapid and back drenched in sweat. Once again, you're engulfed in darkness, but this time, there's no moon for guidance. In the midst of panic, you reach around, earning a soft groan from Xavier. He calls out to you, still drowsy. "What is it?"

"Sorry," you mutter, voice slightly shaking.

It's quiet for a moment before he reaches for the lamp. The light exposes Xavier, and he immediately draws you into his embrace. "What's wrong?" He asks tiredly. He reaches for your back, feeling the sweat that has accumulated. "A nightmare?"

There's emptiness in your eyes, and realization hits. "You were in it." Still in a dream-like state, you quickly let out your thoughts.

Slowly, he opens his eyes. "What was it about?"

You hesitate, remembering his past life in Philos. "You were…the king…"

He hums with reassurance. "Go on."

"We were wandering the night, and when dawn came, we were ambushed…" you fall silent, the realistic dream repeating in your mind. "Who knew light could cause such chaos?"

His soft caressing comes to a halt along with his breathing. It's his soft touch which reminded you of your dreams—of being in his arms. Of the impending doom. "By any chance, were you…?"

He pulls you close, demanding your attention be elsewhere. "It's alright," he mutters. Something about his attitude shifts, almost confirming her question.

"Don't worry," Xavier continues, speaking as if he's comforting himself. "You're with me. Nothing's gonna hurt you now...I promise"

When the two of you moved in together, he finally felt like he was entering the world of light. Peace. Could he really live like this?

As the months passed by, you began to find cute notes around the house. It was hidden in eccentric spots and sometimes accompanied with sweet treats.

"Eat this after a meal :D You've done well"

"I hope to see this beautiful woman today"

"Gojo Satorus top wish: be welcomed home with kisses"

Small notes pile up in your bedside cabinet. After finding all his notes, you wake up next morning to silly a drawing of you two stuck on the mirror. "At times, I can't believe how much power you have on me. P.S. The treasure hunt starts…now!" At last, you feel it—his strong barrier is slowly diminishing.

And then, Halloween night came. He brought his arms through the holes of his jacket and kissed your forehead tenderly. "Come back home safely," you muttered with slight fear.

He chuckled at your words and naturally embraced you. "Of course. I'll be back home soon, okay? Wait for me." His words were calm and promising that you merely nod as he left.

Winter has arrived. Your home is only half decorated for the festive season. You'd given up halfway, patiently waiting for him to come home just as he promised.

Snow gently drops down from the night sky, and a knock emerges. You rush to open the door, hoping to see Satoru with his hands full of bags to apologize for his late homecoming. Instead, Shoko is there to greet you. Her eyebags are deeper and darker, and her hands are still inside the pockets of her dirtied white coat.

She hands you a folded up piece of paper, looking away with guilt. "He told me to give this to you," her voice cracks. "I'm sorry…"

With shaky hands and waning hope, you slowly open the note. "The words you deserved to hear rarely left my lips. Maybe it was out of fear, I don't know. I believed we had all the time in the world. And maybe we do. My life will continue in that sweet heart of yours. Cry all you want, but one day, I need you to wake up and smile. I love you. More than you ever knew. Yours Eternally, Gojo Satoru."

Gojo Satoru, The Strongest. Your lover and a liar. His promise of eternity now lies in this tear stained letter. Snow falls down the quiet, winter sky. The same one that decided to separate the two of you on Christmas Day.

…

At the peak of summer, clouds lazily drift across the vast sky, and a cool breeze flows amidst the scorching heat. Cicadas sing loudly, and nature seems to be more verdant that you'd ever imagined. Boys from the team run around chasing one another, and to your left, the third years talk about their approaching future—nationals, spring tournament, careers…

The ice cream in your hand melts and eventually spill on the burning concrete. You take a slight step backwards, feeling the cool breeze from the swaying leaves. Iwaizumi notices and laughs to himself. "You good?" He asks, approaching you. "Is the heat bothering you?"

You look up at him, though you're quick to lose sight as he pats your forehead with his handkerchief. "Do you want to go?" He asks. "There's a restaurant nearby if you want to cool down."

"It's fine," you mutter. "It looks like the first years aren't done running around yet."

He looks disappointed by your answer. His brows furrow and he begins to frown. You're too busy monitoring your juniors to realize it. "It feels like those kids always have your attention," he murmurs.

"Hm? What was that?"

"I said, I'm done here. Will you come with me?"

You see determination in his eyes, yet a part of you still feels hesitant. "What about—"

"Practice is over," he interrupts. He takes your hand delicately. "You don't have to look after us now. Rest with me for a little, hm?"

Without waiting for your protests, he pulls you away, slipping away in silence. From your hand entangled with his, to your blushing cheeks, heat overtakes your body. Somehow, it doesn't bother you one bit.

...

"Only one season."

Bouquets of fireworks blossom in the sky, causing the team to pause a gaze up. These flowers bloom only to wither in seconds. A quick, fleeting image. It strikes you mesmerized, but what follows is a stinging tug at your heart. You realize that the season is coming to a close.

After a while, smoke disperse and everyone reverts their attention back to the sparklers in their hands. You sit and watch from afar as small patches of light begin to illuminate Iwaizumis backyard.

"Here," Iwaizumi hands you a sparkler before taking a seat next to you. "Sorry we couldn't make it to the festival."

You hum. "It's fine," you say with your eyes still glued to the flickering image before you. "I'm mostly at fault for letting you guys practice longer. And besides, we still saw the fireworks."

"It's a bit of a pity, but at least you're happy." The two of you fall silent, and it takes a while before he speaks up once again. "We'll be more busy this month with nationals coming up. I look forward to working with you again." He speaks with certainty, disregarding your initial offer.

You take in his words and pause for a moment. Despite all that you promised to yourself, you return a smile. "I'll continue to work hard for the team."

It feels as though the pressure of time between the two of you had finally broken down. "I'm guessing summer was that good to you?" He teases.

"It was. So good that sometimes it makes me anxious," your voice fades away as the light dissipates. "The future is rapidly approaching, and it worries me that this summer will only become a memory that we'll inevitably forget. I wonder…will we still be by each others side when we're older?"

You spoke slowly with genuine curiosity that you couldn't turn your question into a mere joke.

He chuckles softly. Under the sea of stars, Iwaizumis face is faintly lit up by the sparkler in his hand. "This isn't our only season together," he says casually. "We have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere."

welcome to yorumae! ♡⃟ᡗ֯◜࿁◝݂ ྀི১⊹

mae || she/her || 20 || infp

i mostly write about haikyuu and sometimes jjk.

asks are always open, but requests are closed. i’m very spontaneous and tend to write based on songs. ideas are welcome, tho :D!!

i dont write character x character or nsfw (may have suggestive stories though). my works are also mostly f reader.

please please please!!! do not feed my work to ai.

thank you for reading my work (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)♡

PLAYLIST I. || HAIKYUU

pensees tranquilles - o.tooru

was there a lifetime waiting for us? - m.atsumu

eating the wind - i.hajime

love is super sweet in my mouth! - m.osamu

living in summer - k.tetsurou

you are fireworks, my light - b.koutarou

when our paths cross again - o.tooru

we can meet again and again - a.keiji

slow mornings - u.wakatoshi

stormy afternoons - k. tetsurou

bye summer - i.hajime

spring thief - a.keiji

summer ghosts - o.tooru

PLAYLIST II. || JUJUTSU KAISEN

never ending story - g.satoru

love letter - g.satoru

PLAYLIST III. || LOVE & DEEPSPACE

nothing’s gonna hurt you - xavier