#RAHHH I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME A LITTLE BIT TO READ THIS

[causenessus]

i think i hit 30 tags exactly THIS WAS SO GOOD MOLLY

wouldn't it be nice 𓇼 semi e. x reader

1. off balance

warnings: language

an: i dont know when it happened, but this turned into jimmy buffett slander hour. sorry man.

𓇼 sounds like: best of jimmy buffett

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The moments of peace in your days are few and far between. Your coworkers—whom you love dearly— are anything but calm, and the customers they attract are not much better. 

Solitude finds you on your commute to work, when you take a leisurely stroll across the island and see what there is to see. Animals crossing the roads, bathing suits falling down, beachy walks of shame that are somehow worse than normal ones, you’ve seen it all. Some are more appealing than others.

When your solitude is disturbed, for whatever reason, your day is always thrown off balance.

And based on what you just saw, today was going to be a doozy.

Trying to shake the image from your mind, you prepare for the inevitable battle scene taking place behind the blue screened door of the surf shop. The promise of tropical rock music looms over you as you approach, but you see the door left open with no sound coming out.

“Oh thank god.” 

Sure enough, your ears are not bombarded with Jimmy Buffett, meaning Noya and Bokuto haven’t gotten here yet. A moment's reprise before the storm blows in. 

Saeko laughs when she hears you enter, poking her head out from around a shelf. “Any moment without Jimmy is a good moment in my book.” 

“Tell me about it.”

You slip into the back room, glancing at the schedule to see who you would be teaching today. Your slots were pretty empty, which meant you’ll probably be in the store for most of it. Not ideal, but you might get cut early and have the rest of the day off. 

“Oh hey,” You call out, taking advantage of the fact that it’s just the two of you right now. “Do you want to hear something weird that happened to me this morning?”

Before she can even respond, Oikawa’s voice chimes out through the shop, paired with the aggressive slamming of the screen door. 

“I do!”

You join Saeko at the counter and share a knowing look, silently communicating that you’ll talk later.

“What are we talking about?” Oikawa asks with a grin, not even bothering to put his stuff away. He beelines towards the two of you and waits with eager eyes.

“Nothing now. I was only going to tell Saeko.”

“What?” He looks galled at your response. “I thought I was your best friend. Best friends tell each other everything...” He drags the last syllable out for effect, but it does little to sway you.

“Yeah, nice try. Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

“Tell him what?”

The front door slams into the wall once more, the final two rounding out your little cohort. Bokuto and Noya both join you expectantly, always ready for any drop of gossip. 

The three men staring at you briefly resemble hungry dogs, begging at the table for any scraps you’re willing to throw them. 

You and Saeko both laugh at the scene before you, but now that they’re all here, you know better than to try and keep the story to yourself. Bokuto and Noya’s constant persistence and optimism are exhausting to outpace, and you learned a long time ago that there’s nothing they won’t do for some gossip.

Resigning yourself to a very long day after this, you relax against the counter and begin your tale.

You were walking along the interstate as usual, the ocean breeze tickling your neck. Mainland traffic wouldn’t start for another couple hours, so the only people you see are your fellow island coworkers and the occasional seagull. 

“Awful way to start a story.” “There’s no way you’re only telling it now that they showed up. Do you hate me?” “When have you ever not ‘walked to work like normal’? It’s like when you talk about your day and you start with ‘I woke up’.”

“Shut up. Let me finish.”

The whizzing of bike wheels, the chatter of early morning joggers. Small moments of serenity before the chaos of your day. Something you wouldn’t trade for the world. 

The natural landscape is the soundtrack to your morning. Low distant rumbles of waves, wind rustling the palm trees and occasional shrub. A loud, bass boosted stereo- wait.

“So what? It’s probably someone from that wedding party, right?” “No, I thought they left already.” “Man, they were something else. Remember when Bokuto got shot in the eye with one of those squirt guns?” “It still hurts.” “Hah! Weak.”

It’s about as cliche of tourists as they come. The white Jeep, no doors. Surfboards hanging precariously off the back. No consideration for how loud or fast they’re going. An equally loud argument between the driver and the passenger, worryingly distracting. Drifting ever so slightly into the oncoming lane before majorly correcting.

You step to the side, despite being on the sidewalk. You want to get as far away from them as you can. The car zooms past you, but for a split second you catch something.

The sandy blonde tips whipping in the wind. Light brown eyes that pierce through your soul. 

But you blink, and they’re gone.

The four of them sit in front of you, all on the edge of their seats. Waiting for something more.

You pause. There’s nothing else you can say.

“So… then what happened?” Noya’s question tests the silence. 

“Wait. Do you guys not know about Semi?” 

There’s a collective confusion before they all shake their heads. 

You want to scream. Their lack of reaction makes a lot more sense now, but you’re kicking your past self for not telling them about him sooner. 

It’s going to be a long day indeed.

“Okay. We don’t have time to get into… all of that.” You start, face screwing up when the screen door creaks again, alerting you all to the first customers of the day. “But basically, he was my childhood best friend until he moved away and fell off the face of the planet. I thought he was the love of my life and then he never spoke to me again. Little 14 year old me was heartbroken.”

“What?!” “You’re joking.” “And you think he’s back?” “Did he tell you he was coming?” “No dumbass, why would he? She just said they never talked again.”

The quiet cacophony of questions is hushed when the customers come around the bend, smiling politely. You all straighten up, trying and failing to look like you were not violently gossiping. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” one of them starts with a laugh, “but could you show us where the wax is?”

Bokuto takes the offer, ushering them all away from the counter. You’re about to sit back at the stool before you realize Noya’s already there, plugging in his phone with an evil grin.

“Noya, no-” “Please, we just got here.” “My ears will start bleeding if I hear stupid Jimmy Buffett one more time…”

The complaints fall on deaf ears as he sits and scrolls through his phone, swiping and forming a queue. “All I’m saying is that he has a lot of advice on love!” He looks up, beaming.

A nice sentiment, but one that falls short as the opening chords of its five o’clock somewhere start to play through the speakers.

Your face deadpans to his. “Your advice is for me to drink away my pain?”

He simply shrugs. “There are worse ways to spend a day.”

“It is literally 9 in the morning.”

“But it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He replies, shit eating grin plastered on his face. You groan in disbelief, not sure how you fell for that. 

He and the others cackle as you turn tail, disappearing into the back room once more. There are some packages that need sorting and you figure it’ll be a nice break from the chaos up front.

You busy yourself with your task, making sure to voice your discontent everytime a new song comes on. Despite the music, you find yourself in a comfortable quiet, catching bits of conversation from the front. The occasional passing by of people on the beach, a few coming in to say hi.

“Do you think it really was him?”

The intrusion makes you jump, not noticing Bokuto leaning in the doorway. As you look over your shoulder, you catch him looking at you curiously.

You pivot, neglecting the boxes. You’re not the closest with Bokuto, but his expression makes you think he’s being sincere. You decide to trust him. 

“I honestly don’t know. It was so fast, and it feels really unlikely, but my gut is telling me it was.”

The admission leaves you a little shaken, suddenly faced with the reality now that you’ve voiced it. It really did look like him. That thought shouldn’t terrify you as much as it does. 

“But I don’t even know if it’ll matter.” You brush it off, turning your attention to the boxes again. “He hasn’t reached out so I doubt he’s here for me, and it’s not likely that I’ll see him around.”

“You said he left you heartbroken.” Bokuto shifts, almost uncomfortably, as he walks into the room and past you, going for his board. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

You can’t fight the laugh that comes out at that. The question has been posed to you since you met Semi, so you’ve gotten very good at the song and dance that comes next.

“He was a silly childhood crush.” You start, picking up the sorted boxes and waiting for him to catch up, walking to the front together. “I’d be happy to see him for old times sake, but it’s not like he’s a long lost lover. Not really.”

Bokuto hums in understanding. “Well, I hope you get what you’re hoping for! Seeing him again or not.” He gives you a beam of a smile before slipping out the side door, a child’s cheer coming from the other side and the boisterous laugh that follows.

“He’s in a good mood.” Saeko comments, now sitting alone at the counter. Noya disappeared somewhere, but the music persists.

“When is he not?”

“Fair enough.” She softly laughs, standing to offer you the stool. “Can you sit for a second? I need to make some calls.”

You nod, dropping the box to the floor and taking her place. Working the counter is the least interesting job in the shop, so it’s no surprise when your mind starts to wander.

Would seeing Semi be the worst thing in the world? You’re confident the childhood feelings are well and over with, but there is still a little bit of resentment about how he left things. You should have known better than to expect him to keep a promise like that, but you were also kids. Maybe a little bit of grace is necessary.

Fiddling with the bracelets on your arm, you start to absentmindedly hum along to the song currently playing in the shop. Tropical paradise be damned, he knows how to make an earworm.

“Since when do you like Buffett?”

Your fingers freeze in their movements, recognizing the casual lilt from days long ago. Dragging your gaze up from where they were focused on the counter, you come face to face with familiar light brown eyes. 

The ones you realize have been quietly haunting your dreams ever since that night, many summers ago.

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