#and my grades suffered because i missed a shit load of class | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cno-inbminor · 5 years ago

Text

immergo

a/n: i recently watched haikyuu and i’m absolutely hooked. to help get it out of my system in time for final papers and assignments, i’m procrastinating by writing this out. hope you enjoy!

featuring: oikawa tooru x fem!reader & some OC’s + iwaizumi

genre: best friends to lovers!au, angst, fluff, slooow burn, some cliches to make people suffer

summary: tooru is as constant as the stars and as real as the earth beneath your feet, yet even for you, he still manages to slip away. and when it’s all too late, only then does he attempt to come back.

word count: 21.9k (this is a monster)

playlist: i wanted to try making one so here's a playlist on spotify: immergo

edit: now crossposted onto AO3 here!

You are five years old when you first meet him.

He’s got a terrible bowl cut and sand particles smudged on his cheek. A plastic, ocean blue shovel is dug deep into the sand before being lifted up with a load, then precariously dumped into a matching bucket. A teetering sandcastle threatens to fully collapse, yet somehow still sporting a little plastic yellow umbrella that some other kids might’ve left behind. You’re clutching your mother’s hand, a clenched fist brought up to your mouth to hide the trembling of your lips from the nervousness of approaching new people. The sandbox is a part of the playground, but you want to be there alone. You want to be in your own little world, too terrified to face the unknowns, but after the last two weeks of coming by, this boy is always in the sandbox.

Your mother somehow convinces you that you can make new friends. ‘But don’t boys have cooties?’ you ponder. There’s only a week left until kindergarten starts, and your mother thinks it would be nice to try to meet someone so you’ll at least have some semblance of familiarity. Just when you think you’re brave enough, you almost yelp in renewed fear when another boy comes into the scene and plops down next to the other boy, his own pair of a bucket and shovel dyed a bright, firetruck red, and is ready to start digging up sand. You watch him eye the falling castle, grumbling something to the other boy before attempting to patch it and stand it back up. The other boy stares at him with wide eyes and an open mouth before morphing his face into a childish, happy grin. And immediately, you think, ‘Oh wow, I like his smile.’

Not only is it bright and wide, but there’s a certain feeling of gentleness. None of this is eloquently elaborated in your brain, but there’s a comfort that settles into your mind. That smile is what causes you to (though still hesitantly) let go of your mother’s hand and slowly wobble to the sand box, pause, before you step up and over the wooden border. The two boys have ceased their castle-building duties to stare at you, who’s now sitting in the sand and looking towards anything but them. Your head scrambles to remind yourself on how to say hello, and it must’ve done something correctly because before they can ask questions, you quietly ask, “Can I play with you guys?”

Both boys look toward each other, giving a look, before the boy with the red bucket shrugs and says, “Okay. As long as you don’t mess up my castle.”

Bowl-cut tyke flicks sand at him, causing him to splutter and yell in protest. “Don’t be so mean, Hajime!” Bowl-cut scolds before turning back to you with that earlier grin. “I’m Oikawa Tooru and he’s Iwaizumi Hajime. Wanna help me with my castle?”

And ever since you moved to this new city until now, your mother has never seen your eyes so bright.

You are ten years old when Oikawa, with a better hairstyle, receives his first love confession of sorts (because you’re ten).

It takes until fifth grade for you to be finally in a class with both him and Iwaizumi. Other years either had one or neither of them, but you were still able to reconvene during recess. The three of you are attached at the hips during those 30 minutes, either running around in a game of tag, swinging as fast as you could across the monkey bars, or seeing who could swing the highest.

On days when the swings are particularly busy, the three of you would take turns pushing each other, trading off once one of you had your fill. “Higher!” Oikawa would always yell happily, his voice blending in with the rest of the screams and laughs in the playground. With your own laughs leaving your lips as you attempt to push the swing, Iwaizumi would instead yell back at him, “Use your own legs, idiot! That’s what they’re for!” To which Oikawa would whine, but eyes would still crinkle in childish delight as he approached the sky.

But Oikawa notices a lot of things, more than the average fifth grader does. Then again, it isn’t hard to spot the group of giggling girls under a tree’s shade nearby, evidently gazing at him in wonder and affection. He feels his heart soar at the attention and in turn, pumps his legs even harder, almost reaching perpendicular height to the ground. Oikawa admits that he is a bit of a show-off, he wants to be the best, and without warning, releases his hands from the chains and jumps off from the swing.

Both you and Iwaizumi gape at him with a mixture of horror and awe. If you could put this moment in slow motion, you would see Oikawa suspended in mid-air, yet somehow seeming to soar like a bird. His jacket flows behind him as his arms lift up to give a sense of balance, legs stretching out to get ready to meet the ground. You wonder what the expression on his face is like, yet the terror manifests itself into your shriek of his name, pitch and tone overpowering a similar call from Iwaizumi. But Oikawa is Oikawa and he lands on both feet, knees bent and almost touching the ground before straightening back up. You’re about to start running towards him, feet already moving, until you stop because he’s twisting himself towards you and Iwaizumi, V-sign held up and that same, big grin he always has. The sun casts a halo around him and you can’t bring yourself to look away. Your feet stay rooted on the mulch and you watch as Iwaizumi stomps over to punch Oikawa in the arm, yelling about how he could’ve broken his legs and who would he play volleyball with then, leaving you to spot the aforementioned fangirls huddled like they’re coming up with a grand plan.

At first, you think nothing of it. It isn’t until after school as the three of you are walking towards the entrance when you wish you were more perceptive like Oikawa. One of the girls from under the tree has gone up to him, quickly bowing while introducing herself, grabs one of his hands to slap a folded piece of paper into it, and almost sprints away. Oikawa doesn’t have a chance to say anything, but he can only give himself a few seconds to register what just happened and unfold the ripped notebook paper. Inside in pretty cursive is an email address (because none of you have cellphones yet), which causes Oikawa to put on a shit-eating grin. He just basically received a love note, a confession, and his ego has just been fed a meal fit for a king.

He brags and boasts the whole way home, causing a permanent frown to settle on Iwaizumi’s face from pure irritation, and you find yourself only able to stay quiet, pondering and contemplating what this small nasty feeling inside your chest could be.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are fourteen years old, nearly fifteen, when you receive your first love confession, which ends up being a little more refined than a hastily torn piece of notebook paper possessing an email address.

Their afternoons and early evenings are occupied by volleyball. While you had been at Lil Tykes from the ages of 6 to 10, mainly due to a massive fear of missing out and wanting to spend more time with your new best friends then, you didn’t have as much talent as those two and decided to pursue other interests. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had protested vehemently when you broke the news to them one evening over dinner at the setter's house, their mouths full of rice and chicken curry yet somehow still managing to speak over the food. Oikawa’s mother had seen you shrink further and further into your chair before slamming her hand on the table, causing the two boys to startle and cease their yelling.

“Respect (y/n)’s interests! I did not raise you,” she spoke pointedly, directing a finger at her now ashamed son, “to be so rude. If she doesn’t want to play volleyball anymore, then she doesn’t have to. She doesn’t need to keep doing something she doesn’t want to do just because you two said so. Now, both of you apologize to (y/n) and finish your dinner.”

“Yes, mother,” and “Yes, auntie,” both quietly left their lips. You wanted to hug the woman right then and there, tears nearly forming and spilling over at the fact that she was on your side. The two boys had put their spoons down and waited for a few seconds before Iwaizumi finally spoke.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you. We’re just gonna miss you a lot,” he apologized, tone sad and soft. Oikawa was still chewing on his bottom lip when Iwaizumi elbowed him to say something. “Apologize, you idiot,” he hissed.

“Ow! I know, geez. I’m sorry, too. Mom’s right, I should respect what you want to do. We’re gonna miss seeing you, like this meanie said,” Oikawa jabbing a thumb in the direction of his male best friend. Their eyes are still downcast until you let out a small giggle.

“Apologies accepted, you dummies.”

You still found time after your new art classes to go watch them play volleyball with either Iwazumi’s or Oikawa’s mother picking you all up and heading home. The three of you still lived near each other, and the two boys were happy that they could still see you somehow. Lil Tykes after school evolved into official middle school volleyball practice, yet you were still commonly found in the bleachers finishing homework or doodling in a sketchbook, patiently waiting for your two best friends to go home with you.

A teammate by the name of Wakeda had taken notice of you, had seen your interactions with the best players on their team. He had seen how nice you were with your classmates, yet still unafraid to give Oikawa and Iwaizumi shit for the smallest things. Your aura is pleasant and raw in a genuine sense, only fueling his budding, burning crush on you. He decided he wanted to be confident and bold, hoping that you would give him a chance.

The Friday afternoon starts off like any other -- Iwaizumi and Oikawa head off to volleyball practice with a greeting and a wave, receiving one from you in return as you make your way towards the math club. The art classes from late elementary school only served to show that you only possessed some mild talent for drawing and painting, but not enough for you to continue paying money for classes. The passion and drive didn’t exist for you there, not like it does with Iwaizumi and Oikawa in volleyball, and it only became something that you enjoyed in your leisure time. Instead, you eventually find yourself balancing math club and chess club -- math is on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons while chess is on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, but they never run as late as volleyball practice.

As tiring as math club can be sometimes, you usually somehow still find the energy to finish the bulk of your homework before heading home. When you walk through the bleachers and settle into your normal seat, the team spots you and gives you a casual wave. You smile and wave back, setting your stuff down before you clamber towards the edge of the rail and look down to spot the manager. On time, she looks up and greets you with a matching smile, ones that you return. The team is coincidentally taking a quick water break, giving Oikawa and Iwaizumi enough time to quickly chat with you from below (and escape their coach for a hot second).

“How was math club?” Iwaizumi calls out. Oikawa subtly observes you as you shrug. To both him and Hajime, the mental exhaustion is evident on your face and figure, yet they always find themselves asking, waiting, watching.

“It was okay,” you respond, fighting back a yawn. “Practice competition round was a bit brutal. How’s practice?” You quickly digress, noticing Oikawa was about to jump in and ask for some details.

“This crappy guy over here keeps pushing himself too much. You know, the usual,” Iwaizumi speaks before, once again, Oikawa can say anything. The latter turns to him and lets out an indignant “Hey!” before quickly attempting to defend himself.

“Iwa-chan is being mean, I’m not--”

“All right, let’s get back to work! Everybody back on the court!” The coach yells and Oikawa can only drop his shoulders and sigh, slightly trudging back into the bounds of the court outline. You stare after him worriedly -- both he (mainly out of stubbornness) and Iwaizumi (mainly out of friendship and loyalty) had been pulling late extra practice sessions and the dark eye circles were starting to become more and more noticeable. As if he could tell what you were probably thinking, he turns back and gives a thumbs up with a grin, tongue slightly poking out. You can only roll your eyes at his antics, returning to your seat in the bleachers and pulling out your science homework.

The minutes tick by as the sun slowly begins to set, rays streaming through the windows of the gym in a harsh blood orange. The coach takes a look at his watch before blowing his whistle, signalling the end of practice. The sound of volleyballs hitting skin abruptly stops, except for one last jump-serve that Oikawa sneaks in. The coach berates him loudly, only causing Oikawa to sheepishly smile and rub the back of his neck. All the players bow and announce their thanks before moving to complete their respective clean-up duties. By this time, you gather your stuff and make your way towards the ground floor. Even if your best friends were going to do some extra practice, it’s better for you to sit at their level against the wall.

The sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor increases in volume as you approach the court. But before you can make your way towards Iwaizumi and Oikawa on the other side of the net, Wakeda calls out your name. You turn towards the left to see him pick up a volleyball not far from you, and Wakeda is counting his lucky stars that he was provided with an excuse to be near you.

“Aoki-san,” you greet him by his last name. “How was practice?”

“It was good, but Coach really worked us to the bone today,” he nervously replies, hands subtly clenching the volleyball in his hands. “I was wondering if I could speak with you for a second? In private?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You’ve never really had much interaction with him outside of volleyball practice, and even then it was very limited to pleasantries. Perhaps it’s about Iwaizumi and Oikawa running themselves to the ground, and nothing to do with you. “Sure,” you agree, looking around before gesturing towards the door of the gym. “We can talk out here, if you’d like.” Wakeda quickly nods and follows you. At this time, the other boys have retreated towards the locker room except for one. One who narrows his eyes at the retreating backs of two people making their way out of the gym.

He puts the last ball in the ball cart, ignoring his friend’s confused look as he jogs towards the entrance of the gym and leans against the wall out of sight. He knows it's wrong to eavesdrop, but he just has to know about what could be unfolding.

The two of you are only a few feet away from the open door and you can only look perplexed as Wakeda begins to look more and more bashful, stumbling over words and anxiously tossing the ball side to side between his hands.

“Is everything okay?” You ask worriedly, trying to maintain eye contact until you can because he’s looking straight down towards the ground. Your heart pounds in your chest as you start to fathom what might be happening.

“I’m sorry, I just -- I like you. I think you’re really nice and cool, and I would like it if I could take you out on a date.”

You’re stunned into silence. Never has anyone expressed any semblance of romantic interest in you, nor has anyone confessed. You’ve never been in this position and the first thing your brain starts to unravel is the puzzle of how to turn someone down. It’s not that going on a date with Wakeda would be terrible -- you just don’t know enough about him. You don’t want to bring his hopes up, but you don’t want to bring him down either.

On the other side of the wood, the boy’s eyebrows are furrowed. His arms are crossed and a foot is perched against the wall, legs making the shape of the number four. His eyes are burning holes into the window across from him and he can’t figure out why a feeling of protectiveness is washing over him. But what he can’t figure out even more is why his mind is instantly screaming, “Please say no please say no please say no don’t say yes don’t leave us don’t leave me--”

“I’m sorry,” he hears, ears straining to catch your voice as you softly apologize. You watch as Wakeda’s shoulders slump and the volleyball is finally kept still between his hands. You gently put a hand on his upper arm. “I can tell you’re a nice guy, but I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry.”

Wakeda lets out a long breath before mustering up his best smile for you. “It’s okay, I was kind of expecting it." A hand reaches up to run a hand through his hair in embarrassment and he’s trying to think of what to say next. Be bold, be confident, his inner self reminds him as he stands tall again. Wakeda puts up the cheekiest smile you’ve seen on him so far. “But I’ll be waiting, if you ever change your mind.”

The statement only makes you smile first and then chuckle. Wakeda basks in the sound for as long as he can before he shyly joins you. The laughter isn’t meant to demean him in any way, but it’s the only reaction you can feel yourself make. It’s all so foreign to you, but you’re glad that your first interaction like this is with someone as kind as him. You trust Oikawa’s teammates.

“Thank you though, it must’ve taken a lot of courage to do this. To be honest, this has never happened to me before and I just don’t know what to say,” you ramble a little, now wondering if you’ve said too much. Wakeda begins to look a little more comfortable before making his way back to the gym with you following.

“Would it be cheesy to say I’m glad I was the first?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I know now that I’m never changing my mind.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Wakeda exclaims, only causing you to laugh. “You gotta leave some room for chance so--”

“Oi, Wakeda,” you hear a familiar voice call out. Your eyes spot Oikawa slowly making his way from the other side of the gym, walking towards you two with a hand in a pocket and another hand in the air, waving. But it’s perplexing because his chest is heaving like he just sprinted his fastest around the court. “Is that the last ball?”

“Ah, yes, sorry senpai!” Wakeda apologizes before tossing the ball into Oikawa’s awaiting hand. It quickly gets thrown into the ball cart. When you two are standing right in front of him, your friend pats Wakeda on the shoulder. “Go ahead and clean up, you deserve a break,” he says before smiling. It��s a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes or even match his eyes. His chestnut orbs have another emotion burning in them, far from the light they would usually glint when paired with a genuine grin. Wakeda quickly lets out a “see you around” and you wave back at him. Once the boy has disappeared into the locker room, you direct your attention back to Oikawa. That earlier fire in his eyes has dimmed a little, but you want to know what it is and why it’s there.

A word barely leaves your tongue when strong arms hug you to a sturdy chest. They intertwine around your shoulders, the squeeze becoming more and more constricting. Your chest tightens and you’re not sure if it’s your heartbeat or his that you’re feeling beat against your chest. In a movement of instinct, you hesitantly wrap your own arms around Oikawa, hand linking to hold onto your own wrist behind his back. Your face is pressed into his shoulder, your nose catching the lingering scent of his deodorant mixed with his sweat. His chin is perched over your shoulder momentarily before he buries his face in the crook of your neck, causing you to stiffen.

It’s not that Oikawa has never hugged you before. There have been plenty of hugs with the two boys over the last nine years, but something is different about this one. There’s an underlying intention hidden in the muscles of Oikawa’s arms, hidden in the way that he breathes in your scent. Something heavy is unspoken as a sense of intimacy falls over the two of you like a soft blanket. You can only gently grasp the back of his jersey, his grip somehow tightening even more, and finally find your voice to speak.

“Tooru,” you murmur, fighting the sensation of your heart caught in your throat. Very rarely do you ever say his name in that tone, one so gentle and full of friendly affection (but did he want it to be just friendly?), so caring and drowned in empathy. “Is everything okay?” You continue and ask. He’s trying to tell you something. He’s trying to scream it through his mind, hoping it’ll somehow miraculously meet yours. But even he doesn’t understand what’s drawing him to do this. All he knows is that as soon as Wakeda was out of sight, he needed you here in his arms. The non-verbal pleas of worry and want from earlier have substantially settled, now morphing into thoughts of “It’s okay, she’s here, she isn’t leaving us, she isn’t leaving me--”. It must be the stress from wanting to become the best, from the stress of Kageyama Tobio’s looming ascent to the top, from the general stress of classes. It must be those. It couldn’t be anything else.

“Everything’s fine,” he replies into your neck, sound muffled but just as quiet as yours had been. You can only feel your heart sink at how strained those words came out. Everything was clearly not fine. Your hands unlink and move to his waist, putting some force into your palms to try to separate from him so you can see his face. But Oikawa quickly protests a soft “no”, once again pulling you as close to him as possible with an arm around your waist and the other soon joining. He can’t handle distance from you right now, some budding anxiety from your attempts at separation quickly subdued as you’re pressed fully against his chest again. “Just give me this moment,” he thinks and pleads to some unknown force.

“I’m just...stressed,” he says before letting out a long breath and disentangling himself from you. But he doesn’t move far, the tips of both of your sneakers just centimeters apart from touching. He straightens his back and lifts his head to momentarily look into your eyes, your own face slightly tilted upwards to meet his gaze. But before you can decipher the emotions in his eyes, his head tilts down to lean his forehead against yours. Though his eyes are closed, yours are still open in muted astonishment. If the hug wasn’t very new, then this action was definitely new. The tip of his nose barely grazes yours, causing your breath to hitch, once again feeling your heart stuck in your throat. You struggle to breathe, especially when his lips are so close to yours. Somehow your thoughts drift to thinking of what would happen if you elevated your feet just a little bit, what would it feel like if your lips softly met his--

“There’s a lot going on,” he interrupts your (silly, silly) thoughts. “I keep getting reminded of how I’m not good enough, and maybe I never will be. But I want to be the best, you know?” For how tall Oikawa is, you’ve never heard him sound so small before. Your eyes can’t help but flutter closed as you relish in the sound of his voice. You try to understand what he’s feeling, the frustration, the stress, the insecurity.

“I hate knowing there’s someone better out there. I hate that there’s someone out there, right here, who’s got the pure talent and prodigal level that I don’t have because I keep getting reminded of how I’m not the one who has it. It’s just not fair, (y/n), do you understand?”

“But I know you’re here for me. And Iwaizumi. I know you believe in me and in us. You're right here with us. You always are,” he continues before you can affirm and acknowledge him. His fingers ghost over your skin, up from your wrists, to your elbows, then your shoulders, lastly lingering at the sides of your neck. Goosebumps break out in the wake of his tender trail and you fight the urge to shiver. You so badly want to open your eyes and drink in this moment of vulnerability from Oikawa, but you’re afraid that you’ll do something rash, something you’ll regret. You’re then given all the more reason to keep your eyes shut when his hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs on your cheeks, the other fingers softly splayed down your neck. He inhales sharply, then daring to slant his head down just the slightest distance, your noses firmly touching now. Your heart is now thrashing wildly against your ribcage -- you have no grasp on what is happening.

“Promise me you’ll never leave us, (y/n),” he implores, raw desperation laced and building in his voice. You can’t help but recognize the tears uncontrollably forming behind your eyelids. Nothing else around you matters -- it’s only you and Oikawa in this impenetrable bubble that you two have created. You’re too far in now, sinking and drowning into this body of water that is him, entangled and rooted in this web that he’s so quickly and craftily woven. He could ask anything of you and you would do it in the blink of an eye. How he made you feel this way in just a few minutes, from the door of the gym to the embrace of his arms, is completely beyond you, but you can’t seem to find the complaints within you. ‘How cruel of him,’ you despondently think, still unable to find it in yourself to be mad. ‘How wicked of him.’

But then Oikawa deals the final blow with a shaky breath. He lays out his last trap, one that you can’t escape. It’s the final straw, the last pull into a heartbreaking world that you will never be able to escape from for as far into the future as you can see; desperation, yearning, beseeching.

“Promise that you’ll never leave me.”

Nothing, nothing, can stop you from whispering what he so deeply desires to hear, fall delicately off your tongue.

“I promise.”

And his lips crash onto yours.

You and Iwaizumi are fifteen years old when Oikawa falls to his lowest.

The kiss was a one-time thing. It had lasted no more than a few seconds when the sound of the locker room door swinging open had you two jumping apart and turning away from each other. Oikawa found it easier than you did to compose himself, though internally he was berating his actions. What was it that made him do such a thing? What was it that pushed him to cross the line he never thought he’d cross? What was it that made him want to spin back around and continue what he had started?

“Iwa-chan!” He had hollered across the building, waving over said male who had smartly refrained from changing his clothes. “Help with some tosses? Serves?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Iwaizumi had muttered under his breath, grunting his affirmation loud enough. But in his peripheral, he had spotted your figure hunched over your things on the bench, had squinted at the way you seemed to be shaking, shivering. He had noticed the look, almost a glare, that Oikawa had directed towards Wakeda before imperceptibly shaking his head to focus on the extra task.

And it wasn’t until weeks later that Oikawa breached the subject during a walk home, sans you because you had late night practice with the math club to prepare for some upcoming Olympiad competition. You were insistent through text that they didn't wait for you and that one of your teammates would help walk you home. Oikawa argued quite relentlessly against it until you threatened to block him from the group chat (though it wasn’t the first time you threatened such a thing) and Iwaizumi decided to take his phone away.

While much wasn’t being said, mainly both preoccupied with their popsicles that they had stopped at a convenience store for, Oikawa broke the silence.

“I kissed (y/n).”

Iwaizumi nearly choked on his popsicle, spluttering and struggling to find the right words to say. Yet the best he could come up with was, “So are you two...dating?”

“No.”

“What the fuck? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because we’re best friends, Iwa-chan. I didn’t know when to tell you though, thought you’d get mad at me,” Oikawa said, pouting childishly.

“So...well, you can tell me what happened before it later. But what happened after? And when did this even happen?”

“Everything just went back to normal. We never spoke about it. And it happened a few weeks ago in the gym after practice.”

“But why?”

“Hmm…” Oikawa had pondered for a few seconds and then shrugged. “Not sure. I was just really stressed, and I was scared that she’d leave us.”

“Us? How am I included in this? And where’d you even come up with that thought?”

“Because it’s always been us three, and it’s always gonna be us. We can’t be apart.”

“We’re eventually going to be apart, you know. It’s not likely that we’re all going to end up in the same city.”

“No,” Oikawa spoke obstinately, hands harshly crushing the wrapper around the now empty popsicle stick. “That’s not going to happen. We’re going to stick together wherever we go. We’ll play for the national team and (y/n) will find a job in Tokyo. We’re always going to be near each other. That’s how it’ll be. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Iwaizumi had nothing to say about that, except for, “We’ll see.”

In the month or so to the blossoming age of fifteen, things don’t change very much. Oikawa becomes more physically affectionate with you and Iwaizumi. You try not to notice how often and how casually Oikawa tends to sling an arm over your shoulders. He does the same with Iwaizumi, though the latter is more likely to shrug it off in mock annoyance and causes Oikawa to lament about lost friendships. But even if physical distance has shortened, Oikawa begins to dig a mental wall between you two. His face becomes more hardened during practice, rarely ever putting up an earnest smile with his teammates. The late-night practices run even later, each serve hitting harder, each toss against the wall getting stronger. The nights when you leave him on his own slowly increase in frequency, going back home with only Iwaizumi. The third leg of the triangle missing feels so adulterated, so wrong. Oikawa is digging himself towards a hell that he won’t be able to return from, but how can you lift him back up? How can you dig your heels into the earth and pull him back out?

“I’m trying my best,” Iwaizumi attempts to comfort you one night. He sees how often you turn back to look at Oikawa as the two of you reluctantly move to leave the gym. Practice had been rough on him, getting switched out with Kageyama Tobio. You had watched his defeated body collapse onto the bench, and there was nothing more that you wanted to do than to run down and snap him out of whatever mental spiral he had created. One serve after another slams into the ground, his figure hunched and panting yet pushing itself to the limits.

“He’s going to kill himself at this rate,” you whisper morosely, turning back to peer at the dark sky. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“You know there’s no one more stubborn than that idiot. He’d have to pass out for you to drag him out of here.”

“Please teach me how to serve!” A young male voice calls out. Both of you pivot on your feet to see the source, eyes focusing on the scene of Kageyama Tobio requesting a seemingly simple task from a senpai.

But you can only watch as Oikawa’s eyes lose any semblance of emotion, instead only darkening with what seems like rage entering his body. He begins to tremble, and Iwaizumi must’ve seen something shift because no sooner than that does he bolt at top speed towards the unsuspecting pair. You can only watch in horror, shell-shocked, as Oikawa begins to forcibly swing his right arm, the back of his hand aiming straight for Tobio’s right cheek.

A horrible screech unearths from your throat in the form of a piercing “NO!” and slices through the air, just as Iwaizumi is able to stop Oikawa’s assault on the poor unsuspecting underclassman. You’ve never seen him so uncontrolled, so ready to intentionally commit an act of violence against an innocent person. Your ears pulse with your heartbeat, barely registering Iwaizumi apologizing to Tobio and giving Oikawa the lecture of his life.

The latter is reminded of the purpose of having a team, is scolded for having been so selfish in his pursuit for excellence. You start sprinting over when Iwaizumi headbutts Oikawa in the nose for his insolence, tossing your bag down as it only decreases your speed. You don’t care for the trouble of cleaning out blood stains from towels when you begin to clean his face, his eyes still furious and full of anguish but somewhat softened when he sees your tears. He continues to let Iwaizumi teach him a lesson while you pinch the bridge of his nose and tilt his head back. Like handling a doll, you have to lift his arm so he can keep the towel in place himself. You then scurry off to find the first-aid kit, leaving Oikawa to fend for himself. Only a couple of minutes later, the three of you are sitting on the ground and you’re dabbing ointment on the emerging bruise right in the middle of Iwaizumi’s forehead. Iwaizumi is a little calmer now, though he’s still verbally punishing Oikawa for even thinking of purposefully hurting a teammate.

Oikawa thinks the three of you are all fine and okay. He’d be ridiculously thickheaded if he wasn’t able to catch onto how quiet you are on the walk home, how instead of walking between him and Iwaizumi, you’re now on the opposite end. There’s a tug at his heartstrings when he plays with the idea that you’re attempting to put distance between you and him, but he refuses to believe it. His actions were a momentary lapse in terrible, awful judgment, and you had forgiven him. Why else would you have tried to help with his nosebleed? There’s no way you’d let something like this drive a rift in the trio.

There’s just no way.

“You’ve been avoiding him, haven’t you?”

There are times when you forget that Iwaizumi can be just as perceptive as Oikawa. For the last two weeks, you would, more often than not, avoid them during lunch. You attempt to show up at their volleyball practice as late as possible, saying that your club activities went longer than usual to prepare for upcoming competitions. You still walk on the opposite side from Oikawa on the way home and only give the bare minimum answers to any of his questions, leaving very little room to continue conversation. The atmosphere is heavy and awkward, tension so thick that Iwaizumi would need a chainsaw to cut through it.

This time you’re on the roof of the school. It’s cliché, so cliché, but the weather was too hard to ignore. Mostly cloudy with a slight wind, the perfect temperature without feeling too hot or too cold. You loved being outside during these days, and you had weaved as fast as possible through the emerging crowd of third years, up the stairs, and onto your personal sanctuary. Your bento is half-eaten when Iwaizumi makes his presence known. You should’ve seen this coming.

“He’s worried about you, y’know?”

“I know.”

“He misses you.”

“I know.”

“...he wants to know if you’re avoiding him because of that incident.”

“...which one?”

“The kiss.”

You whip your head in his direction, giving Iwaizumi an incredulous and affronted look. Instinctively, Iwaizumi throws his hands up, signaling that you shouldn’t shoot the messenger. God, Oikawa could be such a clueless buffoon sometimes. You scoff and nearly snort. Iwaizumi looks about ready to tear his hair out.

“So the great king thinks that I’m avoiding him over something that we haven’t talked about that happened a few months ago?”

Iwaizumi can’t find the words when you slam your bento box down on the ground, chopsticks thrown haphazardly on top and almost rolling off the edges. Iwaizumi catches them as you stand up in anger and begin to pace in front of him.

“Who does he think he is? He’s got a decent following of fangirls to help stroke his ego, and I’m sure some of them are more than willing to worship the ground he walks on. His teammates practically idolize him -- sans you -- but he thinks I’m losing sleep over some kiss we had months ago? It would make much more sense if this had been a couple of weeks after that, but we’re talking months right now! How is it," you stop in your stride, bottom lip beginning to tremble as you look down at Iwaizumi. "How is it that he’s one of my best friends who’s known me for almost 10 years, a genius in his own way, but still can’t tell that I’m avoiding him because I’m scared of him?”

This time, Iwaizumi is confused.

“You’re scared of Oikawa?” He asks, trying to confirm what he just heard.

You let out a long breath, forcing yourself to simmer down and keep a cool head. Part of you feels guilty, yet another part feels justified for your actions. You were only protecting yourself; it was only natural.

“I’ve never seen him like that,” you begin, gingerly sitting back down next to him. The comfort of your best friend that you’ve been denying yourself of is granted as you rest your head on his shoulder. You link an arm around his as well as you begin to curl into a familiar position. Iwaizumi only naturally rests his head on top of yours, hands folded in his lap and legs stretched out.

“I’ve never seen him look so angry, even when that one kid in second grade tried to make fun of you. Or even when someone took the shit talking too far at an official game last year. But he was ready, Iwa-kun. He was ready to displace Tobio out of sheer anger and spite. I know he knows better now. I’ve seen how much better he meshes with you all on the court and attempts to bring the best out of everyone. But it’s hard to look at him sometimes and forget what he was then. What if he gets mad like that at us one day? What if he tries to hit you?”

What if he tries to hit me? is left unsaid, but they ring loud and clear in both of your heads.

“The idiot knows that I could take him down in a fight if it ever came to it. And since it’s apparently not obvious, I’m just letting you know that Shittykawa would rather throw himself off a cliff before ever laying a finger on you like that.”

“But how can you guarantee that?” You argue back, lifting your head up to look him square in the eyes. You want to see if the same hesitancy is reflected in his orbs, the same uncertainty that had been slowly building up in you as an ugly beast. Instead, his eyes are steady and full of promise, never straying from yours as he ends the debate.

“You can trust me. And if I’m wrong, I promise I’ll do anything to make up for it, though the chances are very, very low. They’re practically non-existent.”

And if Iwaizumi says so, well…then it probably is so.

“...I trust you then,” you comply, your head leaning down to rest on his shoulder again. “You better be right.”

“I know I am.”

Silence.

“If you’re not going to eat the rest of your bento, you should give it to him. He’d be happy to see you.”

A few sighs later, a couple of stretches, some steps down the stairs, you find yourself stuck at the door of their classroom. You can see him with his jacket on, head buried in his arms on his desk and turned towards the windows. Iwaizumi gives you an encouraging pat on the shoulder and you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Somehow you find yourself demurely sitting in the empty desk chair in front of him, hands clutching your bento box and chopsticks. Iwaizumi stands by you and watches as you quietly gulp.

“Tooru, wake up.”

Oikawa thinks he’s dreaming. More often than not, you had plagued his visions in sleep, often ending with you attempting to wake him up, but it had been spoken by his mother. He would be disappointed that it wasn’t you by his bedside trying to goad him out from under the sheets.

“Tooru, wake up. I have food.”

This is different. His eyes are bleary and caked with exhaustion, vision catching the light that peaks from under his elbows. Her voice is so close -- he has to give in and just look. Oikawa lifts his head and stares in front of him. He blinks once, then twice, then multiple times, and you’re still there. This is not a dream, he concludes. This is too good to be a dream.

You watch him warily as he attempts to gather his bearings. In the meantime, you open your bento and grab the last onigiri. When Oikawa begins to form the sounds for your name, you quickly stuff the rice ball into his mouth, causing him to give a muffled protest and use one hand to prevent the food from dropping. You watch with muted delight as everything begins to hit him all at once: the food in his mouth, you in front of him with a close-lipped smile, Iwaizumi leaning on the desk next to you two, the sunlight beaming through the windows.

His eyes slightly water, choosing wisely to not say anything for now. Oikawa dutily finishes the rice ball before you place the bento in front of him with chopsticks neatly arranged to the right of it. His hands shoot out to cover yours before they leave the bento, squeezing gently as he looks at you with apologetic puppy eyes. You can’t stop your smile from widening, and only then does Oikawa happily let go, thank the food, and begin to chow down with a gusto that had been missing for the last week.

Things are going to be okay. Unless that group of fangirls seething at you over in the corner is an indication of something otherwise.

You turn sixteen when Oikawa gets his first, real girlfriend.

It’s your first year at Aoba Johsai and Oikawa has captured the hearts of many people from around the area, be it still from middle school, or even some of the upperclassmen. Those who are engrossed in school volleyball were surprised to hear that he didn’t matriculate into Shiratorizawa. And because Oikawa keeps most everyone at arm’s length, only very few people know the reason why. It wasn’t that he was good enough to get in, that’s for sure -- it had mainly been him refusing to “serve” Ushijima. The Herculean boy can criticize his choices all he wants, but Oikawa will never step down from his pedestal willingly.

What no one knows besides Oikawa himself is that Ushijima was only 70% of the reason. The other 30%? He was not going to be the one that separates the trio. What a hypocrite he would be if he had left after having so passionately convinced Iwaizumi that the three of you would always be with each other.

Little do the two boys know that you had seriously considered going to Shiratorizawa. They knew how smart you were as you consistently placed in the top 5 of your class throughout middle school. What they didn’t catch onto was also how well you did in math club and chess club -- to be fair, they knew you excelled, they just weren’t sure of the details. Inquiries about your competitions were always answered in team format: we did well or we placed pretty high. The same existed for chess competitions -- you weren’t a national champion by any means, but you were still somewhat recognized. But again, the same answers were given: we all did well. Math club and chess club never had the public presence that other clubs did. Very few cared, and much less was said.

Before Oikawa pointed out how disgusted he was by the idea of going to Shiratorizawa, you had studied for their entrance exams in your spare time. You didn’t play any sports, so those scholarships were out of the question. It’d all have to be based on merit and you were ready to prove yourself. You had gotten past the first two rounds of exams without them knowing, and your nights only became longer and longer as the material increased in difficulty. But then the two boys talked about going to Aoba Johsai together since they were invited anyways, and not long after, you found yourself at the entrance of the testing center with Oikawa and Iwaizumi on either side, putting Shiratorizawa to the back of your mind.

Things are more brutal in high school. Subjects are more difficult, classes take more time, after-school activities often extend past the sunset. There are physically not enough hours in a day to spend nearly the amount of time you used to have with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The fangirls increase, Iwaizumi’s irritation becomes more exaggerated, and Oikawa becomes too nice on the fan-service.

He’s the triple threat: smart, kind, an amazing volleyball player. You and Iwaizumi can only roll your eyes as he plasters on his fakest grin for the crowd of girls huddling around him, demanding his attention. A part of him is thankful that so many seem to admire him. As much as he won’t return the affection, he welcomes the non-stop stroking of his ego. It does wonders at keeping his insecurities at bay, even if he knows that everything is superficial and surface level. They think they know him, but only a handful of people truly understand his personality.

So when Oikawa announces on the train home that he’s taking a girl out on a date, you and Iwaizumi can only passively nod, thinking that nothing will come of it. Then the second date happens, the third, the fourth, and then the stamp of the label between the two.

“I have a girlfriend now, guys!”

“Like actually? Sounds fake to me,” Iwaizumi scoffs, Oikawa taking offense.

“You wound me, Iwa-chan! What do you take me for, a heartless player?”

“Somewhat,” you jokingly supply, eyes still trained on your notes from your biology class. You don’t need to physically see him to know that he’s pouting and threatening to stick his tongue out at you. “Who’s the poor girl?” You ask, not really expecting much.

“She’s in your class, actually. Tachi Misaki?”

Your eyes stop registering any of the text that you’ve written. How did you miss that? How did you miss the fact that the girl he’d been dating was sitting only two rows away from you?

“Well,” you reply, clearing your throat. “All I can say is that you’re shooting above your level.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad, plus she’s really smart and pretty. She seems kinda low maintenance, pretty chill. Makes pretty good cookies. You think I could get her to learn how to make milk bread? But only if she has time.”

A heavy sigh leaves you as you stick a pencil between the pages and snap the notebook shut. Iwaizumi looks deep in thought before asking, “You think you’ll be able to handle her?”

“I mean, I’ve been going out on dates with her up ‘til now. She seemed fine and said she knew how busy my training schedule was. Like I said, she’s chill. Doubt she’s ever going to be super clingy or anything like that.”

By this time, you’ve all arrived at Oikawa’s house. He waves goodbye as he enters the front door, leaving Iwaizumi to walk you home.

“I give it three months, max,” you tell him. It’s mean, but you know Oikawa. He’ll be the most caring boyfriend in the beginning, but then he’ll get too comfortable, too complacent. He’ll unknowingly rely on the other person to comply with his needs rather than continuing to compromise to meet theirs. It’s only a matter of time before Misaki realizes that.

“I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt...maybe he’ll finally wake up, y’know. He’ll have an excuse to stop putting in extra practice or do something other than watching Shiratorizawa matches ‘til 2AM.”

At that, you cast a disbelieving look at him, his eyes catching yours. It isn’t long until you’re both failing to keep your laughter in. Oikawa Tooru? Ditching the opportunity for extra practice? Over his dead body.

Your estimation comes to fruition when Oikawa lightly dunks his forehead to lay on top of yours during the train ride home. The three of you had been standing near a pole, your own arm linked around it for some balance as you review and scribble some extra things into your notes from class. Oikawa is hanging on by a handle while Iwaizumi is grasping the part of the pole above your head.

“Misaki-chan broke up with me,” he spoke, loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear as well.

“Did she say why?” You ask, unable to move your head as you stare at the flap of his jacket.

“Becauseimtooobsessedwithvolleyball,” he mutters quickly.

“Say that again? And louder?” Iwaizumi teases.

Sigh. Straighten. “Because I’m too obsessed with volleyball,” he repeats a little bit louder, looking slightly ashamed and embarrassed that he, the great king of the court, the sole subject of so many girls’ affection, was ultimately dumped. The other part of the embarrassment masked the guilt he felt inside, having taken advantage of Misaki’s affections for him. Your eyes meet Iwaizumi’s, knowing that the conversation from months ago wasn’t said for naught. The sad, inevitable truth was there, and someone had to say it.

“It’s okay, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi nagged, patting the bachelor’s back. “You gotta make compromises, too.”

“But she knew! And we went on dates. That’s compromises, right?” Oikawa bemoaned, stubborn and petulant as ever. “It’s not like she wasn’t warned…”

“How many times did you guys go on a date?” You ask, attempting to get him to see reason. You know that the truth is there. He’s just fighting against full acceptance.

“Mmm, three times. No, four.”

“Three times in three months? Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath. “Okay okay, um, what’d you guys do on the dates?”

“(Y/n)-chan, are you jealous? You wanna go on a date with me?” He teases, a pointer finger poking your cheek. You squint at him before (gently) slapping the back of his head, causing him to rub the area out of mock pain.

“Ya, do you want to die?” You threaten. “I will throw you off this train if I have to.”

“Can I help?”

“Iwa-chan! Why are you on her side?? Shit, I need new friends.”

“Good riddance.”

“Stoooppp!”

From then on, Oikawa swears off girlfriends in high school. Everyone is too busy, and no one is going to understand him and be okay with what he does. Volleyball is his passion and dream, why is that so hard to get through people’s heads?

(But he knows that as much as he protests, he couldn’t give Misaki what she wanted. He wanted to make it work, he really did.)

The horde of fangirls only grows over the years. He’d rather hold a torch for no one than to try again. Nothing mattered more than a victory against Shiratorizawa and moving on to nationals. The fangirls’ affection would make up for any lack of a love life and Iwaizumi can only shake his head as a trail of hopeful hearts are left in the setter’s wake.

There are times when Oikawa is incredibly thankful for you, that at least he has some sort of close female companion that’s not his sister or mother. Even if you’re busier than ever, you still make time for him and Iwaizumi, whether it be attending their late practices or making sure that they finish their homework over the weekends. They can’t play if they’re failing classes.

(Y/n)’s personality is what he wants in a girlfriend, Oikawa realizes one night. Someone chill, someone understanding of his lifestyle, someone who goes out of their way to spend time with him. Someone he feels a connection with no matter the distance, someone he wouldn’t hesitate to go to if they needed him, someone who would always, always be there--

But he can’t possibly date you. Why risk losing you when he already has you within his grasp? There’s no need to worry about making time or planning for dates, no need to worry about coming up with a gift for White Day (as if he already doesn’t). There’s no need to worry about you leaving him now when his ugly, petty side manifests from time to time because you’ve seen it all. You would never leave him, he reaffirms to himself. You will always be by his side no matter where he is. He can always count on you to be in the bleachers during games, front and center, with the rest of the school cheer crowd. He can always count on you to lend him a shoulder, to pick up the phone at 4AM when he’s woken up anxious with thoughts going at a million a mile, to hand him two slices of milk bread on the weekends from their favorite bakery, to keep him in line with Iwaizumi.

Why risk voiding himself of all that, of so many memories, just to pursue the chance for some more intimacy?

And as Oikawa’s fingers hover over his lips, his mind reeling with flashbacks on how that kiss with you felt even two years later, the last thing he registers before succumbing to the nothingness of sleep is the painful tightening of his chest.

Oikawa is seventeen when he is reminded of how easy it is for him to lose you.

The three of you are sitting on a checkered blanket on top of a hill that overlooks the nearby area. A plastic bag holds a mix of canned beers and hard ciders, some empty and others waiting to be consumed. You’re taking it a little farther than you usually do, typically sipping one through the night. Yet you’re on your third and the two boys can only look at you with slight concern.

Your finals were particularly difficult -- part of you had still been recovering from the vicarious loss against Shiratorizawa, knowing how hard your two friends had taken it. It had only caused Oikawa and Iwaizumi to spend even more time in the gym after practice, a ferocity and drive in their muscles that you had never observed before. The amount of time and energy it took from you to forcibly change and drag them away from the court was substantial. Sleepless nights were dedicated to thinking of ways on how to lift them back up from whatever mental hell they created for themselves. In a sense, those nights paid off, but not without a price.

The alcohol tingles through your bloodstream and seems to slow everything down. You’re not drunk, but you don’t think you could appreciate the scenery before you as much as you are now if you were completely sober. Oikawa is going on about the constellations in the night sky, Iwaizumi teasing him relentlessly, and you can’t bother to fight the lazy smile that stretches across your face. Would you still have these nights with them if you had gone to Shiratorizawa?

“Did you know,” you softly interrupt them, unable to keep the secret any longer. It’s been two years, surely it couldn’t hurt. “Did you know...that I would’ve gone to Shiratorizawa if it hadn’t been for you two?”

The sound of cicadas has nothing on the sudden pounding of Oikawa’s heartbeat. Iwaizumi has an equally flabbergasted look on his face, searching your own as you pull up your knees and rest your chin on top of them. The lack of a verbal response only makes you chuckle, reaching down to grab your can and take another sip.

“Evidently it didn’t happen,” you drawl and then giggle. “Be-because I’m obviously at Seijou--”

“That’s not funny,” Oikawa interjects, voice hard and stern. “That’s not funny, you don’t get to say that and expect us to laugh it off. Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?”

“Why does it matter so much?” You mumble, suddenly desiring for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. “I clearly didn’t go, okay? Jesus--”

“No!” The setter yells, his face morphed by rage. “You were going to leave us? Why would that ever get into your brain, I mean, did we do something? Did we do something to push you to do something like that?”

“Hey, dude, calm down--”

“Don’t you get it, Iwa-chan? She was going to leave us and go to fucking Shiratorizawa of all places! She--”

“I thought you guys were going to accept their invite, okay?!” You interject, exasperated and frustrated. Evidently, you made a mistake in bringing this up now. “I didn’t realize how much you guys hated Ushijima’s guts and immediately changed plans once Aoba Johsai was on your agenda. So just stop, alright? It was two years ago and nothing’s gonna change.”

Oikawa pauses and attempts to reign in his anger. Why hadn’t you talked about it with them at the time? Why can’t he stop thinking about you donned in their maroon and white uniform, sitting casually in the bleachers of the gym, and instead of waiting for him and Iwaizumi, you’re waiting for Ushijima? Why can’t he stop thinking about how wrong that image looks, how much he’d like to be there and snatch you away because you’re his, you can’t abandon him--

“I’m sorry,” you apologize so mousily. Oikawa glances and sees the glisten of unshed tears, immediately relaxing and feeling guilty for being so hot-headed. It was the alcohol, for sure, he rationalizes before he turns to face you, scooching as close as possible to you. You’re still sitting in a fetal position as he slides one arm behind your waist and another wedges between your stomach and thighs. He buries his head into the crook of your neck. Your body welcomes the familiar heat and continues to relax as Iwaizumi lays his head on your shoulder. Instead of tears of sadness, you can only bask in the realization of how lucky you are two have these two doofuses in your life. The tears spill over as you sniffle, overcome with emotions that could only be so pronounced under the influence of alcohol.

“I’m so fucking lucky to have you guys,” you blubber. Oikawa’s grip tightens for a second as a tacit return of affection. “And I promised, didn’t I? I promised that I’d never leave you two, so you’re stuck with me. I wouldn’t wanna leave, even if you made me try.”

That’s right, Oikawa remembers. You promised -- and you would never go back on your word.

Oikawa is eighteen years old when he begins to truly understand the extent of your selflessness and how much of a selfish monster he can be when it comes to you.

It’s the night of their loss against Karasuno High, their last chance at defeating Shiratorizawa now gone and irreversible. Though tears had been shed towards his teammates, an overwhelming amount of gratitude and pride to have gone down fighting their hardest, the regret was eating at the two boys like nothing else.

Oikawa’s mother is working late -- you met them at the doorstep when they returned from the team dinner, saying nothing but holding up a bag of their favorite desserts. Minutes later, the three of you are a tangled and cuddled mess with the television quietly airing some old rerun of a child’s cartoon. It’s only when the boys’ cries have dwindled down into occasional sniffling do you dare to speak.

“I’m so proud of you two,” you begin but already feel yourself choke up again. “You did nothing but your best. I know how much this meant to you guys, but this isn’t the end. Time doesn’t stop here and you’re gonna go on to be even better players in uni. So don’t give up, okay?” You ask, hands squeezing whoever’s arm or arms you might be holding on to.

“Don’t give up when there’s so much left to fight for.”

They know you’re right. You’re always right in times like these.

Iwaizumi leaves about an hour later, eyes brighter and a small shit-eating grin on his face after about 13 brutal rounds of Uno. He won the majority of them, thankful that there was something to distract him for now. Oikawa promises to walk you home soon since it’s so late, earning a glare that could only mean “You fucking better, you shithead” and waving him off. Such a worry-wart. But when the front door clicks closed, the silence takes over once again.

Oikawa stands from the couch and stretches, gives a few twists before turning to look back at you. You’re curled up with your phone in hand, probably scrolling through social media or catching up on the news. “Hey,” he calls for you attention and holds out a hand. Don’t do this, he tells himself. “There’s something in my room that I need to return to you. Come with me?” Only delight fills his veins when you nod and set your phone down on the couch before sliding your hand into his. They stay linked as he leads you to his room, only separating when he lets go and you take refuge on this edge of his neatly-made bed.

As childish as he can be, you forget how tidy Oikawa is with his room. The books on his shelf are meticulously arranged by last name, photo frames strategically and aesthetically placed in empty spaces. His writing utensils are carefully arranged in a row on the side of his desk, and his drawer looks much of the same. Stapler, tape, sticky notes and tabs are all methodically placed, somehow speaking true to his leadership abilities.

Your observations are cut short when Oikawa sits down next to you with a book in hand, one that you had lent him months ago. To be honest, you completely forgot that he had it and you make it known to him.

“But did you like it?”

He nods with a small smile, yet his eyes are staring at the wall with a faraway look. He’s contemplating something, drawing plans in his brain, and after a couple of glances towards you, Oikawa gives in.

Much like that Friday afternoon four years ago, he leans his forehead on yours. A wave of deja-vu crashes over you as you’re once again plummeted into the dark ocean of his eyes. He keeps his gaze steady, searching for any kind of resistance. He needs something that only you can give him.

“You don’t have to say yes,” he whispers. You can feel a shiver crawl up your spine at the heaviness in his voice. “But I don’t know who else to ask. I don’t know why I can’t think of anyone but you.

“So can I please kiss you?”

What?

“But why?” You ask, the confusion so obvious in two words. Oikawa can only sigh to himself before carefully maneuvering you to straddle him, facing no objection from you. It’s just a kiss, he thinks to himself. It’s just a kiss that he wants with no strings attached to help with the emotional turmoil that only you could begin to understand. Your heartbeat feels like you’ve been swimming against the current for hours, your body betraying you as you let him bring one of your hands to his cheek. His eyes flutter closed and he languidly nuzzles into your palm, lips placing the softest, most intimate kiss there.

“I don’t know,” he breathes. Your heart aches and aches. “I swear that all I do know is that it can only be you. Please, please let me have this.”

And you can’t help but nod.

Unlike last time, Oikawa doesn’t surge forward. He instead bides his time, lips only barely ghosting over yours as he holds onto your waist. The contact becomes progressively fuller, more purposeful, as he completely slants his mouth over yours. In response, your fingers tangle themselves in the strands at the base of his neck and he finds himself drawing you closer to him, arms now completely wound around your waist.

This is a sin, he has to remind himself. This is a sin that only benefits him -- he is taking, he is stealing, he is feeding on an elixir at the cost of your soul. But his desires only overpower his guilt because as devilish as he may be, the sin feels like heaven. A paradise made by you created solely for him.

He catches your bottom lip between his teeth before gently sucking, eliciting the most delicate moan from your throat. The sound only flips a switch in his head as he applies more pressure, desperate to hear it again. Mine, he thinks as he begins to litter kisses down your neck, teeth catching skin to leave marks on you. Mine, he screams to himself as his hands peek under the edge of your shirt, skin on skin.

“Tooru--” you pant, trying to lean back and gather your thoughts. This is too much to handle. If you’re not careful, you’ll unlock the only thing that you swore you’d take to your grave, the three words that could ruin everything.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps before diving in for another quick kiss. “I’m not asking for sex. I just need you,” he confesses, pecks littered between his words. Oh, how you wish this were under different circumstances. How you wish that you could utter those three words without a care in the world and know that they’ll be reciprocated. Your lips meet his again and it feels like the earth has stopped on its axis.

Both of you are unaware of the amount of time that passes. Fervent kisses slowly diminish to a languid pace until it comes to a complete stop. Oikawa can only lean his forehead against yours, eyes hooded and chest heaving with you in a similar state. Neither of you have enough energy to find the right words. His arms only draw you into his chest and he can’t help but marvel at how perfect of a fit you are for him.

“I should probably head home,” you whisper. Being the man-child that he is, he shakes his head vehemently and momentarily refuses to let you escape his embrace.

“Do you have to?” He tiredly grumbles, reluctantly loosening his grip with a sigh as you slide off his lap. You nod and bend forward to give him one last kiss, the separation causing him to whine. You make your way towards his body-length mirror, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles and fix your hair. Oikawa hugs you from behind, his limbs wrapping around your shoulders.

“We’re okay, right?”

You nod. Don’t we have to be?

And that’s when Oikawa Tooru begins to slip through your fingers.

It’s a combined effort, really. Everybody’s trying to wrap things up, all the big competitions are jam packed into the last remaining weekends, and making room for last-minute college entrance exams. If people weren’t already at their wit’s end, then you can barely fathom the amount of anxiety and stress coursing through the halls of the school.

You use this to your advantage, finding yourself unable to go home with the boys, unable to visit them on the weekends, unable to respond to text messages frequently. You begin to learn to look past Oikawa rather than at him, not bothering to spare a second glance when he’s caught in the hallways by a group of infatuated admirers. You fail to see the way his eyes follow your passing figure or how he slows his pace when walking by your classroom, hoping to get a glimpse of you. You fail to see the disappointment on his face when your spot in the bleachers is empty. So he falters, redirects, and lets the distance increase.

The only time you reconvene with the two is after the graduation ceremony. Your mother would kill you if you left without a picture of you and your best friends, and clearly their mothers are thinking the same thing. Outside in the courtyard, the women spot each other, your mother almost dragging you behind her. They’re trying to find their respective sons, though it doesn’t take long because the sudden clambering and screaming of girls can only serve a few purposes. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are craning their heads before they’re able to finally spot the frantic waving from their mothers.

Soon, they’re in front of you, both individually giving a hug. “Congratulations,” you tell them with as much happiness as possible. It’s not like this will be the last time you’ll see them -- you’re all attending the same university. They thank you and return the festivities. It’s hard to miss how your hug with Oikawa lasts a little bit longer than normal, even more so when his hands trail down your arms before slyly slipping a small object into your hand. As you unfurl your fist, a shiny circular object is gleaning back at you. You spot a stray thread from his jacket and it hits you -- the devilish fox has given you his second button. You’d like to pretend to be unaffected, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“And if I don’t accept?” You challenge. For a second, Oikawa is genuinely taken aback. It’s obvious he didn’t expect you to consider rejecting the button and stumbles over his attempts to come up with a comeback. When he spots you fighting to contain your laughter, his embarrassment only pushes him to lightly shove your shoulder.

“For being my best female friend,” he elaborates. You deserve an award for containing the pain and bearing through it, pretending that his words don’t faze you in any ways. Iwaizumi only shakes his head at his friend’s idiocy -- what is he thinking?

“Oh I’m sorry,” you apologize in a mocking tone, pretending to bow. “Should I be groveling at your feet now like the other girls back there? Oh great king?”

“Why yes, I am indeed the great king--”

Smack. “You’re such an idiot,” Iwaizumi reprimands. The recipient of the hit pretends to bawl, resuming his childish antics once again.

That’s how high school ends, with two aching hearts and three families of laughter, all making way for the start of university.

Oikawa somehow makes it possible to balance his love life, volleyball, and his business major. Both he and Iwaizumi blend in nicely with the university team as your words from before ring in their brains. They could and are becoming better players -- high school suddenly seems so casual compared to the stakes at the university level. Teammates are constantly being scouted and the two begin to strive for the national team. Despite the fact that they barely see you anymore, Oikawa still dreams of his ideal future: he and Iwaizumi playing for Japan in Tokyo, with you having a job there and supporting them in the stands.

Sometimes he’s able to spot you on campus -- the building for the pharmacy program that you’re enrolled in is relatively far from the business building. Most times you’re walking with your classmates, giggling at something or engaged in a heated discussion. He thinks about how beautiful you look in your white coat with your hair tied back, your face donned with some makeup for the natural look and a pair of dainty earrings. Part of him boils in jealousy whenever there’s a male acting particularly close with you, but he knows he has no right to think that way. The thoughts only fuel him during volleyball practice, which seems to satisfy his coach.

It’s easy for him to like someone, he figures out two years in. It’s easy for him to get to know someone and pick up on their quirks. As a social butterfly, it’s not difficult for him to get along with his partner, but when it comes to developing deeper feelings...it just doesn’t happen. He wants so badly to reciprocate, especially considering how much effort some of his past partners have put in. But something stops him every time -- unwillingly, he’s become a master at letting people down easy, that he’s truly sorry he can’t reciprocate their love. On the other hand, Iwaizumi is pretty successful in his current relationship, going strong for the last year and a half. Oikawa seeks his advice at the club one night, keeping an eye out to see if there’s anyone he'd be willing to take home (not that he ever does).

At this point, Iwaizumi wonders how he’s still friends with him. Yes, he’s fiercely loyal and has been by Oikawa’s side since the beginning, but if the guy was going to do nothing but continue his descent into idiocy, there was very little he could do for him. (Y/n) had the same problem as Oikawa except you figured it out much, much faster.

“You idiot, you’re in love with another person.”

“...say what now?”

“That’s all it is. You’re in love with someone else. That’s why you feel like you can’t say it back when a different person tells you they love you.”

“If I was in love with someone else, wouldn’t I know?”

Yeah. Oikawa Tooru is a big, bumbling, messy pile of denial.

“You know what,” Iwaizumi sighs, setting his drink down before paying the tab. “You’re right. You’re in love with yourself.” Oikawa knows that he’s joking. Nothing could be farther from the truth -- he’s always dedicated himself to the happiness of others. That’s the role of him as a setter and captain: to bring out the best of his teammates’ abilities, but he can only do that if he’s at his best as well. His eyes cast another look into the dancing crowd. He downs his drink as someone catches his attention, also moving to pay his tab.

“Tell your girlfriend I said hi!”

Iwaizumi only gives him a lazy wave as he makes his way to the entrance. Oikawa is sliding his way onto the dance floor and when Iwaizumi spots who he’s wormed next to, he hopes that one day, Oikawa will really open his eyes.

Because he’s always going for girls who look wildly similar to you.

It’s hard to have an undefeated season. Some losses are harder than others and during the first two years, you, sweet, sweet (y/n), always managed to find him.

He needed you most on those rare days. Even after weeks of limited texting and quick passings on campus, there was a level of comfort that solely existed by being with you. He would attempt to joke and tease with you to put up a facade, but when you would lead him to his couch and leave your arms open, the veil would drop as he cried into your shoulder. He would then pick up his terrible, terrible habit of giving into sin (as long as he wasn’t dating anyone), selfishly knowing that you would never say no. He’ll ask you if this is okay, and you always say yes. The two of you never cross the line of anything more than making out, yet the kisses become less lust-ridden and more tender over time, laced with something much more meaningful.

(And with each time, it becomes harder and harder to refrain yourself from confessing.)

Oikawa reveled in being able to sigh against your lips, stealing your breaths from your lungs and even convincing you to stay the night. There were mornings when he truly felt that there was nothing better than waking up with his arm around your waist. He could squeeze you to his chest and wish for this all day. Sometimes, you woke up earlier than him and silently admired how peaceful he looked compared to the haggardness just hours before. With his hair so delicately splayed across his forehead, the ends curling up to defy gravity, a tiny scar dusting his right cheek, you would be painfully reminded of just how much you love him.

The last time you woke up next to him, you thought to yourself, “I can’t do this anymore.”

In the beginning of the third year, you fight every cell in your body to not go to him. Instead, you call him up and ask how he’s doing -- he doesn’t question it, doesn’t demand that you come see him. If there’s something preventing you from visiting him, he won’t ask about it. Even only a call brings him the warmth that he usually craved from you, though he knows nothing can satisfy him like your physical presence. The routine continues, volleyball practice becomes longer, and Oikawa thinks he’s finally getting used to this. This is the farthest you’ll distance yourself from him. There’s no way that you’d ever be more than a train ride away.

“are you guys free for coffee this weekend?” The text reads in the group chat. (Y/n) knows they don’t have a game, one of the rare breaks they get. Oikawa and Iwaizumi have the same schedules, so when Iwaizumi texts back “yh, where at?”, it’s for both of them.

“our favorite cafe restaurant by the bookstore okay? 1pm? my treat?”

“sounds good. see you then.”

“see you guys xx”

They think nothing of it -- it’s just a rare moment that everyone is free and able to catch up. Both dress up in their best casual streetwear, Oikawa even donning the glasses that you like so much. He’s nearly buzzing with excitement at finally being able to talk with you and have you within arm’s distance. Everything is normal when they walk into the cafe, spotting you in the corner booth. You’re quick to match their grins and give them both hugs, watching in delight as their eyes take in the milk bread, agedashi tofu, and a few other shareable dishes. They’re starting to think this is a bit of an apology meal for not having seen them in forever. It’s nice that whenever the three of you are together, there’s no awkwardness and everything seems to be back to normal.

Like how it’s supposed to be. But all good things must come to an end, right?

“It’s so nice being here with you two,” you laugh as you lean back against the vinyl leather. “I’m glad we could do this.”

“We need to do this more often,” Iwaizumi agrees. “We don’t have as many classes since we’re juniors now. Practice is still always the same so we should have more time to meet up. What about you?”

“Same here. Actually,” you pause, hesitant and scrambling for words. You’ve even rehearsed what you’re about to tell them, yet everything has been forgotten.

“I’m...I’m applying to doctoral programs in America.”

The boys look like two deer caught in the headlights. Oikawa is immediately filled with a sense of dread and fear -- his worst nightmare is slowly transforming into reality, unearthing its ugly head. A train ride is one thing, but a 13 hour plane ride? Time differences? A whole different country on the other side of the world?

“That’s...wow. That’s um,” Iwaizumi clears his throat. “That’s a big move. Why did you decide on America? I thought you wanted to start working after?”

“I’m enjoying pharmaceutical research more than I ever thought I would. We just actually got back from an international conference a few weeks ago -- there were so many interesting topics and studies being done. And...I thought it’d be nice to travel somewhere, you know. Have a change of pace.”

And you’re not completely lying. You’ve never really been outside of Japan before. Part of you wants to travel and see more of the world, especially after the conference in Berlin. Famous structures and streets that had been mere images on your computer or phone screen were suddenly physically before your eyes. You wanted to gain a better grasp of what it could offer and what you’ve been missing out on.

The other part of you felt stuck here. You needed an excuse to end the never-ending cycle that was Oikawa. It was an infinite loop of running to him, falling into his arms, attempting to put an obstacle on the bridge between you two, but then crossing over it to fall back into his arms again. You were never close to being free of him, not that you wanted to, but you wanted to know who you could be almost nearly without him. You wouldn’t be you if you were completely void of Oikawa Tooru. He would always have a part of your heart and be a part of your soul, no matter what.

“When would you leave?” Oikawa timidly asks, his gaze directed towards the crumbs on his plate.

“I’m actually on track to graduate by the end of this academic year. If I find a research group that wants me and is willing to provide me with adequate funding...I’d probably leave pretty soon after graduation. Y’know, get settled, meet my group, and...yeah.”

Silence ensues as the two boys figure out what to say. Your leg is bouncing restlessly beneath the table, fingers quietly tapping the side of your cup. Iwaizumi seems to be taking it pretty well, but Oikawa...you can’t tell.

All emotion is wiped from his face. He’s choosing to pierce holes in the wall by your head and his arms are crossed in front of his chest. He’s trying so hard to be mature about this and be happy for you, yet all he can register is the fact that you’re leaving. You’re leaving them, you’re leaving him, you’ll be gone forever and you’ll never come back, you’re going to find new friends, a new partner, a new bed that belongs to someone else to fall asleep in, oh how wretched--

“We’re gonna miss you,” Oikawa says, voice barely any louder than the tranquil music playing over the speakers. You feel like you’ve been transported back to when you were ten and breaking the news of quitting volleyball, hearing the same four words spoken in a very similar manner. Your heart settles and softens, you relax and reach over the table to grab one of their hands in each of yours. Iwaizumi doesn’t hesitate to give a friendly squeeze while Oikawa’s grip is only limp at best. But after a few seconds, it tightens and tightens until you understand the message: please don’t go.

“We’ve spent our whole lives together. I’ve told you two this before and I’ll say it again -- I’m so lucky that I have you guys. Part of me is able to do this because I know you’ve always got my back and I know that’s not going to change, even when I’m halfway across the world. So keep in touch? Please?”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi reaffirms and Oikawa nods. You express your thanks and retract your hands, trying to ignore the way that Oikawa’s fingers linger for as long as they can without being too obvious. The three of you eventually leave, bidding goodbye to your waitress and cashier, and continue to amble down the streets. Time always flies when you’re with them, conversation never truly ending. Eventually Iwaizumi has to leave to meet his girlfriend for dinner and Oikawa, being the gentleman that he always is, ensures that he’ll bring you home safe and sound. As the two of you wave goodbye and watch him disappear into the crowd, Oikawa offers his arm to you. He sees the pleasant surprise on your face and can’t help the smile on his own as you wrap your hand around the crook of his elbow.

The two of you continue to chat -- you fill him in on all the little details of your life that he had missed. In return, he does the same, eliciting so many different emotions from you. The pain in your heart increases when you realize just exactly how far away you’ve been from him. You choose to ignore that he’s taking the long way to your apartment, relishing in this rare time you have with him. Oikawa is the only person to make you feel like there truly wasn’t enough time in the world to spend with the one you love.

This must be what it’s like to date you, he realizes. Your hand is still wrapped around his arm, even when the limb became tired and settled for tucking his hand into his jacket pockets. He drinks in every laugh, every scoff, every grin, every gasp of surprise. Very few things bring him greater satisfaction than the way your eyes sparkle when he buys one of your favorite snacks off a food cart or when he points out something that reminds him of you. He never wants you to let go -- all he wants now is to collapse into your bed and wake up with his arm around your waist once again.

Before he knows it, they’re in front of your door, fiddling with your keys. He leans against the wall by your door as you locate the right one, but you hesitate.

“This was really fun. Thanks for basically spending your whole day with me.”

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” he replies, unable to stop the words from flowing out of his mouth. “It’s been a while since we’ve hung out like this.”

“Yeah, it has been.”

Silence.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” He asks with eyes full of hope. You’d have to be blind to not notice them, yet you would still be able to tell by the tone of his voice.

“Of course,” you reply with a small smile. “Until you get sick of me.”

Oikawa scoffs, but puts on a sincere face as he quips back, “Never.”

In all the years that you’ve been friends with him, nothing has ever sent blood rushing to your cheeks so fast. Your heartbeat quickens at an alarming rate and it doesn’t help as he begins to lean down, getting closer and closer to your face.

At the last second, he dips his head to the right and places a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. Before you can blink twice, he’s already walking backwards with the cheekiest grin on his face, a cute little wave towards you. He then turns on his heels and makes his way to the elevator with a bit of a skip in his step.

You don’t even remember unlocking your door and toeing off your shoes. Your entire body feels like lead, yet also buzzing with excitement. And as you’re collapsed on your bed, staring at the ceiling, all your brain can comprehend and tell you is that Oikawa Tooru is truly the bane of your existence.

Oikawa does his best to stay true to his word.

Even with fewer classes, there’s always something that he needs to finish: that project, this homework assignment, extra practice -- sometimes, he wishes he hadn’t been in uni. Or at least picked a different major. When he can, he tries to visit you on nights, sometimes sheepishly empty-handed, other times holding a bag of your favorite pastries. “Are you trying to fatten me up?” You joke one night before biting into your favorite flavor of macaron. “More to hold and hug,” he teases back, causing you to give him a light whack on his arm.

He’s there when you nervously submit all your applications. He’s there when you receive offers to interview. He’s there when you get your first official acceptance. And of course, he’s there when you make your final decision. There’s no hesitation when you jump into his arms after submitting your confirmation of acceptance to University of California – San Francisco, though he wishes you could be there forever. Weeks begin to roll by, much quicker than he’d like. The usual cheery and joyful chattiness of when he usually visits evolves into comfortable silence, both of you settling for watching some space documentary on Netflix most nights. Oikawa hates how the inevitable is slowly creeping up his spine and more often than not, he’s torn between wanting to either just rip the Bandaid off or try to stop time.

The approaching reality of you physically leaving him starts to take its true form when you ask him to tag along on the hunt for suitcases. You want to get at least one of those large suitcases that have to be checked in to try to bring as much stuff as possible. The whole time, Oikawa is half numb, though he tries his best to give his honest opinions on the suitcases you consider. He knows what a big step this is as he watches you eagerly pay for your final selection. However, nothing hits him harder than when he comes into your apartment a week before your graduation and there’s a wide array of empty, mismatched cardboard boxes in every room.

To drive the stake in even further, the recently purchased suitcase lies wide open in your bedroom with some stray objects already neatly tucked in. Yet the one that catches his eye is a picture frame placed in a bubble wrap sleeve. It holds the physical memory of you, him, and Iwaizumi at your high school graduation, each person with their own bouquet of congratulatory flowers. There’s a reason you have this specific shot framed out of all the ones between the parents combined; reason being the fact that Oikawa isn’t looking at the camera lens, but rather looking at you.

His eyes glinted with pride and care in that picture, a certain softness in his posture. The picture has always sat demurely in a back corner of your desk. However, some friends or recent classmates that have been in your room have taken note of it, excitedly asking you, “Is this your boyfriend??” It’s more painful when you have to tell them he’s not, only just a very close childhood friend. A very close childhood friend that you’ve kissed multiple times and will always give your heart to, but you leave that part unsaid. .

Oikawa spends the night with you, taking much longer than usual to fall asleep. You’ve already passed out next to him, mouth slightly agape and hands curled up near your face. Quietly, he adjusts his weight onto his elbow, leaning his cheek into his hand. His other hand gently tucks the strands of hair that have fallen over your face behind your ear. To him, you look nothing short of angelic. He hates that he’s only able to spend time like this with you as the clock is ticking -- he wishes that he made more of an effort to meet and see you during your first two years. Perhaps he wouldn’t feel so anxious at the thought of you leaving. Perhaps the two of you would’ve established something that would guarantee your return.

At this thought, Iwaizumi’s words ring in his head.

You’re in love with someone else, that’s why you feel like you can’t say it back when a different person tells you they love you.

They continue to ring as he finally falls asleep. They ring as he only wakes up hours later, settling on trying to quickly whip up breakfast for you. They’re loudest when you quietly pad up to him and rest your chin over his shoulder, nearly scaring the shit out of him. Even then, his body can’t help but relax from the feeling of your body pressed against his back.

Even as he prepares for his finals, you’re in love with someone else.

Even in the midst of presenting a final project for class, you’re in love with someone else.

All the way up until he’s parked in a seat, arms cradling a bouquet of your favorite flowers, tucked between Iwaizumi and your mother at your graduation ceremony, you’re in love with someone else.

And when he’s cheering his loudest for you as you cross the stage, pausing to shake the university’s president’s hand and receive your diploma, his heart finally settles on the unshakeable truth that he probably knew all along.

I’m so fucking in love with (y/n).

“I’m so fucked,” he mutters to himself, but not quiet enough because Iwaizumi catches it.

“What’d you do, shithead?” He leans in to ask so your mother doesn’t hear. Oikawa only shakes his head, his leg subconsciously beginning to bounce anxiously. Iwaizumi takes a look at the leg, then a look at his face, and when he catches how Oikawa’s eyes follow you happily ambling off the stage, the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. After years and years of living in pure oblivion, Oikawa has finally understood just how much he loves you.

“God, you have such shit timing, you dickhead,” Iwaizumi groans, fingers pinching and massaging the bridge of his nose.

“What did he do?” His girlfriend on his other side asks. He leans over to briefly kiss her cheek, murmuring a “I’ll tell you later,” in her ear before turning back to his best friend.

Oikawa feels like a nervous schoolboy with the way his face is construed, his hands grasping the flower stems like it’s his lifeline. He begins to think about how he should confess to you – should it be during a candlelit dinner? On the roof of your apartment under the stars? Should he take you to a park or by the beach? A million more scenarios run through his head as the rest of the graduation ceremony proceeds. He stands in a daze as the students begin to file out, the families in the stands soon following suit. His body stiffly stands to follow your family and creaks like a rusty robot, absolutely unprepared to face you with his new revelation. The only thing that brings him out of his head is when Iwaizumi yanks him back by the collar of his shirt, practically choking him in the process. His throat coughs and fights for oxygen as he rubs at his neck, watching your mother disappear into the crows before turning to Iwaizumi with a pitiful and defeated look.

“What the hell was that for, Iwa-chan? Why—”

“You are not telling her right now, you hear me?” Iwaizumi threatens in a hushed voice.

“But—”

“She’s leaving. In a week. To America. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Can’t that be for her to decide? She can turn me down, but I need to tell her!” Oikawa cries out as the three of them do their best to stay out of other people’s way, pressing themselves to their seats as much as possible. People are casting them either curious or nasty looks for being obstacles in an increasingly heated argument, but they could also care less.

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at him, then stabs a finger to his chest. “What you want, what you need…it’s always been that way for you when it comes to her. Have you ever stopped to consider what she wants?”

“Of course I have, what do you take me for?!”

“What do I take you for?! I take you for an idiot who spent years taking advantage of her!” Iwaizumi drives his point by jabbing the finger on his chest again. “I take you for an idiot who knew that she could never say no to you and you still used her whenever it was convenient! You think you’ve been such a martyr—”

“I didn’t do that! I—”

“Then prove it,” Iwaizumi hisses. “Prove to us that you genuinely care about what she needs. You know what she needs right now? She needs us, her friends, to go out there, find her, and congratulate her with flowers. Then, we’re gonna go to our favorite place with her family and celebrate her. Today’s about her and her achievements. We’re gonna be happy for her because that’s what she needs today. That’s what she deserves.”

Most of the crowd have trickled towards the lobby by now, leaving the three of them with a few student workers running around to pick up trash and stray programs in preparation for the next ceremony. Iwaizumi sighs, seeking comfort in the way that his girlfriend slides her hand into his. Everything that he had been holding in is now out in the open.

“You think you can do that, Tooru?” He asks in a calmer voice.

“…yeah.”

Oikawa tries his best to keep his feelings at bay. They threaten to spill when your eyes drink in the bouquet he’s brought for you, a pure smile of delight as you lean in to catch a whiff of your favorite flowers. It’s even harder when you give him a friendly peck on the cheek, quickly moving to give Iwaizumi and his girlfriend hugs. He can’t stop sneaking glances your way during lunch, watching how happy you seem to be as you verbally recall the last three years. His mind does its best to stay involved in the conversation, yet it doesn’t cease to drift towards Iwaizumi’s words. It’s heart-wrenching because everything he said was true – he had knowingly taken advantage of your lack of resistance, had knowingly acknowledged that he was committing a certain sin in life, driven by greed and desire. He knew years ago that he could never get enough of you and would never be able to.

“…your plans after this?” He hears your mother ask you, her voice reminding him to be an active participant in this chat.

“I kind of just want to go home and get out of this dress, probably start up my packing again. I had to put that on hold with finals and everything.”

“We can come help you if you want.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I might even take a nap first.”

“You can take a nap while I help you pack,” Oikawa interjects without a thought. He just wants more time with you. You look skeptical and he puts on an affronted expression. “I’m a really neat and organized packer, thank you very much. You think I’m some poor slob who can’t properly fold a shirt?”

“It’s exactly what I think.”

“Hey, don’t be so mean! I’ll prove it.”

“Fine,” you say with a smirk widening. “But I’m kicking you out if it isn’t up to my standards.”

“Yes ma’am!” He replies like a soldier, comically saluting with two fingers. Iwaizumi shoots him his best warning glare as the table resumes chatting.

About an hour later, the two of you are walking side-by-side in the direction of your apartment. The pace is slow with your heels on, especially as they become more and more painful. Eventually, you let out a big huff and stop in your path to slip off your heels, picking them up by the straps and letting them hang off your fingers. Your gown, stole, and chords are draped over your other arm, the other hand holding onto the cap and flowers. Oikawa watches as you sigh happily and wiggle your toes before you continue the trek barefoot. He’s terrified that you’ll get a staph infection and stops you.

Without saying anything, he takes the graduation gown from your arm and fits it over you, thankful that the bottom of it nearly reaches your ankles. Your arms have a mind of their own as they slip into the sleeves. He crouches for bit and fiddles a little bit before pulling your zipper up, then takes your cap and fits it onto your head. Before you can question his actions, he sweeps around to lift you up in his arms bridal style, causing you to yelp at the sudden motion. One of your arms is already swung around his neck, the other just trying to make sure your heels, chords, and stole don’t drop. Oikawa adjusts his grip a little, then looks down at you.

“You okay?”

You’re incredibly flustered, saying nothing but giving a few nods. He gently smiles before bringing you closer to his chest. Eventually, you place everything into your lap, leaving your other arm free to lie over the flowers on your stomach. You have an internal battle with yourself on whether you should link your free limb around his neck or not – do you want to come off as clingy? Would Oikawa mind? Would it make him uncomfortable? You soon decide, fuck it. You just graduated, you deserve to be pampered a little bit, even if it means treating yourself to indulging in one of your longtime fantasies with the man you secretly love.

Even though your face is already pretty close to his, by wrapping both arms around him, you’re practically nuzzling into the side of his neck. He smells faintly of the cologne that you gifted him last year for his birthday. It brings you fond memories of your life with him so far, how even through all the pain of unrequited love, every second has been absolutely worth it.

“Thank you,” you murmur and tighten your grasp. “For everything. For being my best friend, for always being there for me.”

“You don’t need to thank me, silly,” he replies affectionately. “You know we love you, right?”

“I know. I just wanted to make sure that you knew how much I appreciate it, that’s all.”

“…I’m so proud of you, (y/n). Look at you, finishing in 3 years and going to California for your PhD. Maybe I should’ve tried harder to convince you to stay in Japan, but I know you wouldn’t have been as happy. Is it too late to still try to persuade you?”

You unwind an arm to smack his chest lightly, playfully scolding him as you fully hold onto him again.

“Don’t even think about it. Of course it’s too late.”

“Well, then there’s no harm in still trying, right?”

“Tooru!”

“Okay, okay, fine~.”

Once you’re home, you grab random articles of clothing from your closet before heading into the bathroom to change. Oikawa offers to find a vase for the bouquet during this time, your ears hearing the clinking of glass and the snipping of stems. You didn’t realize you had grabbed Oikawa’s spare jersey he had given you the summer before your first year of university, only noticing after you begin to fit it over your head. The flush in your cheeks is subtle as you slip on a pair of pajama shorts, a giddy feeling filling your chest.

When you step out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen, Oikawa’s back is facing you as he continues to arrange the flowers. Something about the scene feels comfortably domestic, as if Oikawa just returned home from work and decided to surprise you with a little gift, insisting that he put it together for you. You’re almost expecting him to give you a kiss on the cheek before saying, “I’m home, dear.”

In the midst of your thoughts, Oikawa is satisfied with his work, grabbing the vase and turning with the intent to let you see his work. He startles when he sees you leaning against the wall and staring at him, yet his heart fails to calm once he realizes you’re in his jersey. Part of you suddenly feels shy with the way he can’t stop admiring you, yet another part is filled with newfound confidence. Your feet softly pad towards him, relishing in the fact that you can render the great Oikawa Tooru speechless. He lets you take the vase from him, still frozen in his spot as you gently place a kiss on the corner of his lips. If he were more composed and more cognizant of his actions, he would have taken you up in his arms and kissed you for real. You take the vase from his fingers and place it on your dining table, appreciating the delicate hue of the petals. It’s a shame that you’ll have to get rid of them soon since you’re leaving in a week.

“Come on, Tooru. Time for you to show me how good your shirt-folding skills are!”

Progress in packing is slow as the two of you talk and laugh, the sound of The Good Place quietly playing on Netflix from the small TV in your room softly filling the room. Eventually, Oikawa refuses any of your help, practically ordering you to stay in your bed and leave it to him. In the familiar warmth of your comforter, you fight to stay awake as exhaustion from the morning events creeps through your body. Before long, you’re taking a last look at Oikawa’s side profile sitting on your floor next to a pile of unfolded clothes and falling asleep soon after. It takes a few minutes for him to realize that you haven’t said anything in a while, only chuckling to himself when he sees you slipped away to the dreamworld.

For the next hour or so, he folds and packs your clothes in silence. The pile dwindles and shrinks until there’s none left, though there’s still some in your closet that you’ll be wearing over the next week. You’re still asleep on your side – he can’t find it in himself to wake you, instead doing his best to climb over you and sit on the empty side of the bed without jostling you. Just as he finds a comfortable half-lying, half-sitting position against a pillow and the headboard, you unconsciously do a full 180-degree turn and snuggle closer to him. One of your legs twists around his, your arm slinging over his waist.

Oikawa’s heart almost wants to fly out of his chest. Had it really been over a little more than a year since you last slept next to him? Was this going to be the last time that he’d experience this?

Was this going to be his last chance?

He must’ve nodded off in the end. Your voice speaks to him in his subconscious, softly calling out his name. His body is curled up on the side where you were sleeping, arms stretched out as he finally wills his eyes to open. His vision is blurry and heavily veiled with sleep, needing a few blinks to register that you’re bent over with your face very close to his. He wants to be wakened like this every day, to the sound of your voice rather than an obnoxious alarm tone from his phone. With all the strength he can muster, his arm reaches out to grab one of your wrists and gingerly pulls you towards him. You giggle as you snuggle into the little space you have, his arms hugging you tightly to ensure you don’t fall over the edge.

“Five more minutes,” he pleads, nuzzling into your hair. “Or we can go back to sleep, I don’t mind…”

“Tooru, we need to eat dinner though.”

“But I have you,” he mumbles without thought, clearly saying whatever first comes to his mind.

“That doesn’t make any sense though.”

“It makes all the sense in the world, silly (y/n)…come on, let’s sleep some more…”

“Even if there’s fresh omurice waiting to be eaten?”

“Mmm…did you make it?”

“Yes, I did.”

Oikawa sighs again before moving his hand from your back to rub his eyes. “Well, we can’t let your hard work go to waste then, right?”

“Not at all.”

You disentangle yourself and ignore how your body aches to lay with him again. Your hands take one of his own in your grasp, pulling him from the bed and towards the dining table where a fresh plate of omurice awaits them. Oikawa doesn’t forget his manners, pulling out a chair and indicating for you to sit in it. Like a true gentleman, he’s cognizant of how he pushes the chair back in to meet your sitting position, ensuring that you’re comfortable before moving to his own seat. The two of you say your thanks quickly before digging in.

Dinner is a quiet ordeal besides the occasional laughter. He tries to play footsies with you underneath the table, having full advantage with his longer legs. You threaten to flick rice at him if he keeps at it, but as time passes by, it’s clear your words hold no weight. Light banter continues when you bring the plates to the sink, refusing any offers of help from him. He settles for having an arm around your shoulders, leaning some of his body weight onto you. His eyes watch you with love and fascination as he berates himself for not figuring it out earlier. Things would have been different, and life would have been much better.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmurs, tone solemn and heavy as you begin to dry off the dishes.

“I know. But I’ll be back in a few years, you know?”

“A few years sounds like forever though.”

“It’ll be over before you know it, Tooru.”

“I know, but…”

“But what?”

He’s still searching for words when you’ve put the last plate in the drying rack, folding the towel neatly on the counter. You turn to face him directly, causing his arm to slide off your shoulders. He delicately grasps your hands with his and plays with your fingers, eyes focused on them and unable to meet your own. Iwaizumi’s warning voice blares through his head – why, why did he always have to be so selfish when it comes to you? Why did he always give in?

“Tooru, what—”

“I love you, (y/n).”

He’s gone and done it now. His eyes are ablaze with passion as they attempt to convey the depth of his feelings, boring straight into your own shocked gaze. He means it more than anything right now. You have to understand that he’s serious, that he doesn’t mean this in a platonic sense. Without a doubt, he would do anything for you. Could you see that in him?

He begins to panic when you slowly detach your hands, your expression hardening before you turn to occupy yourself with something else. You search for something before heading towards your living room and start packing the decorations into a cardboard box that’s cradled against your hip.

“(Y/n), please—”

“You don’t mean it,” you bite out and somewhat harshly smack a book into the box. “You’re only saying it because—”

“I’m not saying it just because you’re leaving, I swear,” he vows, following you as you pack away more things. “Just look at me—”

“How could you?!” You say accusingly, slamming your box onto the floor and whipping around to look at him. Oikawa isn’t entirely surprised by the tears streaming down your face, yet his heart still breaks at the sight.

“(Y/n), I—”

“What were you expecting?” You ask hoarsely, throat choked with tears. “Did you expect me to just accept it and run into your arms?! We’re going to be on opposite sides of the world for at least four years, and you wanted to start something with me a week before I leave?”

“I can’t lose you!” Oikawa cries out. He watches you collapse into your couch, head buried in your hands to control your sobs. He follows and sits as close as possible in front of you on the floor, reaching up to remove your hands from your face. “I can’t lose you more than I already have,” he whispers dismally, thumbs wiping tears from your cheeks. Out of fatigue, he places his cheek on your knees, eyes closing as you lay your hand on top of his head.

“Tooru, you—”

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he interrupts, striving to get you to see how much this is for him. “I never knew what it was until recently, but you have to know by now that I would do anything for you. You can call me up at 4 in the morning, ask me for my umbrella even when I’m 20 minutes away. You could even ask me to drop volleyball, and I’d do it. Just to make you happy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you depressingly chastise as your fingers give in and demurely run through his hair. “I would never ask you to give up volleyball, and even if I did, you’d resent me til the day we die. Hell, you’d resent me in your grave for all I know.”

“You’d still be my everything.”

At his words, you choke out another sob. This had been everything you were dreaming of, except Oikawa’s timing was just so off. You would have to spend the first four years of your relationship without him, and long distance wouldn’t be easy. Even though he would do everything to make it work, you’d worry about burdening him when he has so much he wants to live for. Wouldn’t it affect his playing? His studies? Would he eventually get tired of waiting for you and leave?

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” You sniffle.

“The chance of a lifetime, that’s what I’m getting into,” he quickly replies. He turns to rest his chin where his cheek originally on, facing you with eyes of zero hesitation. His expression softens when he senses the doubt in your face and reaches up to remove your hands from his hair, grasping them softly and placing them on your thighs. “I’ve already wasted years not being with you, and I don’t intend to lose another second. So please, please give me this chance.”

Your head is dizzy with all this information. You need time, you need clarity. You need to think this out before diving in, no matter how much you want to comply right now.

“Let me think about it, ok?” You weakly propose. “This has happened all so fast and I just need some time to think it over. This is really big for us, and I just wanna make sure we’re doing the right thing.”

“I’ll wait forever if I have to,” he agrees, then ghosting his lips over your knuckles.

“You can’t see me until we’re at the airport though,” you add in, causing him to whine in objection. “I’ll give you my answer then. It’s just a week.”

“Can I still call you?”

“Of course, you big wuss,” you tease.

“Hey, I just confessed my feelings here, cut me some slack!” He cries, pouting afterwards. You somehow still have the energy to giggle at his antics, happy that some things never change.

“You need to leave soon, Tooru.”

“No,” he objects and wraps his arms around your legs. “I don’t wanna.”

“Tooru—”

“Only if you kiss me before I leave.”

You let out a sigh, yet still smiling. “Deal.”

He removes himself and gets out of the way, stretching as he stands when you push yourself off the couch. Even for the short distance from the living room to the door, Oikawa insists on holding your hand. He grabs every second he can with you, still holding on when he’s slipping his shoes on.

“I’m waiting for my kiss,” he says with a lilt in his voice. His eyes are shining and expectant, causing you to roll your own playfully. For the first time in 21 years, you’ll be kissing Oikawa with no feelings hidden, no motives unsaid.

He meets you halfway, softly cradling your cheek with his free hand. His lips against yours bring a wave of nostalgia – god, how you both missed this, the feeling of being able to lose yourself in another person. How you both missed forming that bubble again where nothing mattered but the two of you being there together. You can’t help but think about how much you’re going to miss this in America, how it’ll be months, years, before you can ever fall into Oikawa’s arms again.

Oikawa wants nothing more than to toe his shoes off and have you jump into his arms. He wants nothing more than to carry you to your room and show exactly how much he loves you, but it’s not in your wishes. Don’t be selfish, he reminds himself. You asked for time and space to think about your future with him – if he wants to make this work, thinking of solely his own desires needs to stop here. He must prove to you that it’ll be worth it, that there’s no reason to lose any more time than you’ve already lost.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” he apologizes quietly.

“It’s okay. But consider this week as punishment, if you’d like.”

He pouts. “I really can’t come see you?”

You give a small grin, a pointer finger moving to tap his nose. “Nope.”

With that, he sighs begins to walk out the door, but not before stealing another peck. The action only makes you laugh and playfully push him over the door threshold, waving as he walks backwards with a pout. You don’t close the door until he’s turned the corner, nearly collapsing against it once the deadbolt is locked in place. Everything hits you all at once again, leaving you reeling and almost gasping for air. Your heart won’t cease its rapid pace, though it seems to come to a full halt when your phone chimes with a text message from him.

“Good night, (y/n). I love you.”

Yes, it’s amazing how lucky you are.

Without fail, Oikawa texts and calls you every day. He never fails to remind you that he loves you. Twice, he orders delivery to your door because he knows you need to pack your kitchen. A man who buys you food as a surprise and seems to always know what you’re in the mood for? It’s as if the universe is telling you to hurry up and marry this guy.

And Oikawa, trying to be the responsible person that he is, doesn’t see you until they’re sending you off at the airport. Your parents had offered to pick him and Iwaizumi up from his place, especially since it was a little early in the morning. A taxi drops you and your suitcases off at the gate. You hadn’t spotted them when you got in and made a move to go ahead and check your bags in. After you had finished dropping them off, you had turned around to wait outside of the check-in area and spotted the four of them chatting while waiting for you. Even with it being so early in the morning, you can’t help but break out into a smile at seeing them, speeding up your pace as much as you can with the carry-on suitcase lugging behind you.

“Thank you, guys, for coming all this way,” you express your gratitude while embracing Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

“What kind of shitty friends would we be if we didn’t?” Iwaizumi asks as you move to hug your parents. Your mother keeps an arm around you at the end, already fighting her tears.

“Mom…”

“Do you have everything you need?” She interjects, voice choking up. “Phone? Wallet? Passport? Boarding pass? New SIM card? Emergency cash?”

“They’re all here,” you say, pointing to the locations of each item. “I’m gonna be okay, mom.”

“Don’t hesitate to call us if you need anything, ok?” Your father reminds you. “We’re only a call or text away.”

“I know. I’ll try to make it home on the holidays or something, but if not, I’ll be back in a few years at least.”

“What if you end up meeting someone and want to stay in America with them?” Your mother sniffles, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.

“Well,” you hesitate, casting a quick look towards Oikawa. When his gaze meets yours, you begin to feel more confident about the answer that you settled on yesterday. You know he’s anxious to find out what you’ve decided. “I’m sure that’s not going to happen. Can I have a minute with Tooru please? Alone?”

Your mother’s eyes widen in realization before she’s quick to shoo off your father and Iwaizumi. Once they’re out of earshot, Oikawa looks at you expectantly.

“Do I get my answer today?” He inquires, removing his hand from his jacket pocket to hold one of yours. You take the initiative to interlace your fingers with his, giving a tight squeeze.

“Mmm,” you hum while fishing out your phone with your free hand. Oikawa watches anxiously as you tap and scroll through something, breath baited as your eyes seem to light up at finding what you need. You turn the screen to him and ask, “Does that answer your question?”

At first, he’s confused. Oikawa sees a contact page open and automatically notices it’s his number. It’s not until his vision drifts back to the top of the page where his name usually was. In the past, it had been “crappykawa” with a smiling emoji, but to his delight, it now reads “the boyfriendTM”.

His excitement prompts him to lift you from the waist and spin you around in a few circles. You shriek and shake with laughter as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck to hold on, your eyes closed tightly until he puts you down. Even then, he doesn’t detach himself from you and leans down to kiss you sweetly, never wanting to let up. It doesn’t matter that you’re leaving him in the next few minutes – he’d rather have this than nothing at all.

Minutes later and after more teary goodbyes, you walk through the line towards security. The four of them watch as you exchange pleasantries and answer questions by the guard checking your boarding pass and passport. Once you’ve been cleared, you turn around once more to give a final wave, before disappearing behind the gray walls. After you pass security and find somewhere to eat a quick breakfast, you check your phone. There’s a Snapchat from Oikawa that you immediately move to open. It’s a selfie taken at an angle where his phone would’ve been in his lap. He has his characteristic pout on his face and the caption reads, “i already miss you, my love.”

And at that moment, you know, you can feel it with every ounce of your being, that everything is going to be okay.

(epilogue)

Months after you moved to California, Oikawa received his invite to play for a professional volleyball team in Argentina. He consulted his closest friend, you, his coaches, and they all agreed on one thing: he’d be stupid to turn it down.

It wasn’t the Japan national team, but it was definitely an opportunity of a lifetime. He greatly admired the national Argentine team as a child, and that admiration never wavered. On the plus side, it would make the long-distance relationship easier with you, as the time difference would be cut significantly.

The relationship experienced its ups and downs. Some main recurring themes of contention involved his tendency to overwork himself and your frequent late nights in the lab, as well as your disregard for your physical and mental health during times of high stress. They were issues born out of love and care, and they were worked on to help each other improve. You’d always livestream his volleyball matches and he would attempt to stay up with you on a video call if you were in the lab or up late studying, reminding you to drink water and eat something nutritious.

Oikawa found time to visit you during rare extended breaks in the off-season. He’d always make sure that you two would video call Iwaizumi together, wearing a shit-eating grin when Iwaizumi would pick up the call and roll his eyes. In return, you saved up and visited him in Argentina, though only able to stay up to a week at most. The new life was a little difficult and strange, but he made it work. He loved his teammates, he loved you, he loved volleyball, and he couldn’t ask for more.

You finished your doctorate in four years, just as you had predicted. You already had a job lined up before graduation at an academic hospital in Tokyo, allowing you to practice pharmacy and continue research. Not only that, Iwaizumi also earned a position in the top volleyball team in Japan, leaving Oikawa to be ecstatic. His personal dream from so many years ago was finally coming together – the three of you together in the same city, and him and Iwaizumi on the same superior team, even if it meant playing with Kageyama Tobio and Ushijima Wakatoshi. But he’d get used to it eventually.

When you first returned to Tokyo, you were happy to see that not much had changed. Oikawa had another couple of years in Argentina before he would return to Japan and join Iwaizumi on the team. A few weeks in, you were already enjoying your job immensely – the only thing missing was your boyfriend.

A year has passed, and you are currently sitting at home in front of the TV with a mug in your hands. You’re dressed down in your comfiest sweatpants and Tooru’s jersey from university days. A white gold chain holding a simple silver ring hangs daintily around your neck as a token and symbol of a promise. You check your phone and frown a little – Tooru hadn’t texted or called you all day, though he did mention he would be busy with preparing for an upcoming practice match. You’re now worried that Tooru’s overworking himself again, holding the device now to send a quick text reminder to take breaks and stretch afterwards.

You toss your phone to the side and try to focus on the humorous game show, picking up on how ridiculous some of the antics were. American game shows had nothing on the ones here in Japan.

Someone rings your doorbell. At first, you think it’s the postman dropping off a package you had been expecting and make no move towards the door. But the doorbell is rung once again, leaving you to hesitantly approach the entrance. You peek through the spyhole and spot a young man outside, hat slipped on backwards, glasses perched on his nose, and hands stuffed into his pants pockets. He’s looking away from you and has suitcases around him, but you can recognize that side profile from anywhere. Could it be?

You fumble with the lock and throw open the door as your heart threatens to beat out of its chest. The young man finally looks up at you and you gasp as tears spring forward to your eyes.

Oikawa Tooru is standing right in front of you with the most beautiful smile on his face that you have ever seen.

He’s ready to catch you when you squeal and run into his arms, dissolving into laughter as you blubber into his neck and attempt to make sense of what’s happening. Tooru spins you around a few times for good measure, relishing in the comfort of your body against his. It had been too long since he last held you, and luckily, he’d never have to wait that long ever again.

His invite came as a phone call not too long ago, personally from the coach of the team that Iwaizumi had joined. They were willing to wait for him if he wanted another year in Argentina as he had originally planned, but Tooru decided that it was time to come back. He had buzzed with excitement as he planned out his great return, wanting so badly to surprise you. It’d go down in the book as one of the best reveals of a major life change for the two of you, and he wanted it to be perfect.

“How—what—when—I have so many questions!” You stammer, hands reaching for his face to make sure that this is real. Tooru leans into your palm, eyes catching the glisten of the promise ring that he had gifted you two years ago. He was a little worried that it wouldn’t be noticeable enough (“I need people out there to understand that you’re spoken for!” “What are you, a prince of the medieval days?”), but he did appreciate how beautiful it looked when you wore it as such. The happiness he feels right now is more than he could have ever imagined, especially now when he can finally look into your eyes and say the words that he’s been yearning to speak for years to you —

”I’m home, (y/n).”

fin.

606 notes · View notes

peachymarkeu · 4 years ago

Text

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: NCT 127 x OC

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮: Fluff, Angst & Suggestive

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: What is it like being an 18 year old girl that had just moved into her new apartment and then suddenly meeting the people she would consider to be her brothers while being away from her parents?

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 4: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝓝𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓮𝓭

Kringg...Kringg...Kring…

‘Uh- the hell is that sound, can’t you see I’m sleeping’ I thought.

The ringing sound stopped for a while so I continued sleeping peacefully until.

Kringg…Kringg... Kring…

‘Oh come on again.’ I thought in my sleep again.

Once again the ringing stopped and I went back to sleep again.

Kringg....Kringg...Kringg…

“Aish what is that sound.” I said while looking for my phone on the nightstand.

I was pushing stuff off the stand until I found my phone. When I got it I realized that it was the one that was making the loud ringing noise.

“Agh- I was sleeping so well then I heard this aish. The hell its only ei-” I cut my rambling once I saw the details on my phone.

January 8, 2021 | Monday | 8:30 am

‘Shit, I’m LATE!’

I got up as quickly as I could and went straight to the bathroom. Since I’m already so late there was no time to take a shower and fix my hair and stuff. All I did was brush my teeth, comb my hair and started to put on my uniform. After putting on my uniform I went out of the bathroom and went straight to my front door to put on my shoes. I didn’t bother getting breakfast at this point, I can just eat something in the cafeteria. After putting on my shoes I got my school bag, coat and keys and went out of my apartment. Once I got out I saw Auntie Minjie getting ready to go out, to the grocery i guess since she there was a little shopping stroller beside her.

“Oh good morning Yuna!” Auntie Minjie Greeted me.

“Good morning Auntie Minjie! Sorry I really need to go now I'm super late for school!” I told her while running backwards towards the elevator.

“Have a good day and travel safe!” she told me while waving.

“Thank you! You too!” I yelled back still while running.

I was near the elevator and saw the doors slowly closing.

“WAIT!” I yelled and put my hand in between the doors before it closed so that It wouldn’t close.

I got inside and leaned on the elevator walls. The ground floor button was already pressed so I didn’t have to worry about that anymore. I closed my eyes while trying to catch my breath from all the running.

‘Ugh, what way to start the week’ I thought to myself

My hair was covering my face which was why I couldn’t really see whoever was inside the elevator as well. I didn’t even care who was inside. The only thing in my mind was getting to school before the bell rings. I checked the time using my phone and saw 8;45 am flashed on my screen. This was a huge problem. Still need to learn how to get to my school from my apartment. I hit my head 3 times and tried to compose a plan before getting off the elevator.

‘Ok so I’ll search for the directions on my phone, make a run for it and pray that I’ll be able to get to school on time.’ I formulated my plan in my head.

I opened my navigation app and placed my location and the school’s location. I loaded real quickly so I saw the calculations and directions for me to get to my school. It said that it was a 30 minute walk to my school from my apartment so if I run to school I might get there twice as fast and half the time.

Once the elevator doors opened I sprinted out the elevator and the building. I kept running while looking at my phone for the directions. I was halfway to my school until I tripped and scraped my knees. I saw that my shoes were untied. I guess I didn’t notice them getting untied while I was running.

“Aish you’re so stupid Yuna. You should’ve double tied your shoes so that this wouldn't have happened now you’re wasting time.” I said, talking to myself like a crazy person.

I got up again and checked my phone for the directions. I checked the time and it read 8:55 am. I only had 5 minutes left. I ran as fast as I could until I reached my school. When I arrived I was already 10 minutes late for class. I sprinted up the stairs up until the 3rd floor. I arrived at my classroom and opened the sliding door forcefully which made a loud noise. Every head in the classroom turned to me including the teacher.

“Kim Yuna late.” the teacher announced to the class.

“I’m sorry sir I woke up late this morning and-” I rambled.

“I don’t care about your excuses so go and take your seat. You’ve already disturbed the class.” the teacher snapped at me.

I bowed to him still as a sign of respect and quietly proceeded to my seat. As I walked across the room all eyes were still on me. Classmates of mine were whispering at each other and were chuckling while looking at me. I must’ve looked like such a wreck. I felt so humiliated that I kept my head down while walking. When I reached my empty seat, I saw my elementary friend, Lee Sungho sitting beside it.

“Hey Yuna, you alright…?” he asked me carefully.

Before I could answer him the teacher cut me.

“So what were we discussing before I was rudely interrupted by your classmate Miss Kim Yuna?” he said, emphasising the word rudely as if he was rubbing it on my face.

I heard a few of my classmates laughing before the teacher continued with his lesson. I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life that tears were brimming my eyes. I felt Sungho tap my shoulder lightly as a sign of comfort. I looked at him and gave him a small smile, assuring him that I was alright. After that I tried my best to focus on the discussion while restricting myself from letting my tears fall.

*School Chime Ring*

“Class Dismissed. Everyone may now step out of the classroom except for Ms. Kim Yuna” the teacher said while fixing his things on his desk.

‘Well shit’ I thought to myself.

“Yuna-yah, I’ll wait for you outside,” Sungho told me. I bowed to him as an acknowledgment as he strutted out the classroom.

Slowly, I walked to the front of the classroom to Mr. Park’s table. He was fixing some papers on his desk when he lifted his head and looked at me very sternly.

“Miss Kim, I am quite disappointed with you. You are close to failing my class then I see you come to class 15 minutes late.” he said in a very strict manner.

“I’m sorry” I said, bowing my head.

“You are in your senior year. You know that grades are very important to pass your college. You better study and get your grades up. I don’t want to see you coming to class late again. If you continue to have bad grades, say goodbye to entering college because there is no way I will be passing you in my class.” Mr. Park said while grabbing his things and stepping out of the classroom.

I was left alone in the classroom with tears streaming down my face. As I felt them cascading down, I rubbed them off using the back of my hand. I got my things and went outside to meet Sungho who was waiting for me.

“Yah, you alright?” Sungho asked me. His face was full of concern.

“Hm… I’m alright.” I said hiding my sadness with a small smile.

We proceeded to go to the cafeteria for lunch. When we got there, students were lined up, some were even cutting in line just to get what they wanted. Sungho and I waited patiently in line. He sparked up a conversation about his funny experience during his soccer training yesterday. I laughed at all his stories which made my mood become better until.

“Yah move” she said in a very annoyed tone. She cut in line and was now infront of me.

Gwan Aeri. The girl who seems to be so annoyed with me everytime. I don’t know why she’s so annoyed with me since I never did anything to her. Plus, she’s my number one bully. She would push me around, embarrass me and all that stupid stuff. Good thing she wasn’t in Mr. Park’s class. If she was, I would be suffering a lot by now.

I saw her getting her food already so Sungho and I got our trays and started to get food as well. She didn’t get much only bread and milk. I saw her open the milk carton and turn towards me. She bumped me intentionally and “accidentally” spilled her milk on me. My uniform top was drenched in milk.

“Oops, sorry.” Aeri said to me without any sincerity.

All the students inside the cafeteria were looking at me. Some were whispering, somewhere chuckling at me again. Sungho took off his jacket and put it on my shoulders to cover me up. Tears were pricking my eyes again from the second time I got humiliated. I continued to get my food with Sungho. Sungho thought that it was better to eat out in the schoolyard rather than inside the cafeteria. We ate in silence. Sungho would sometimes spark up a conversation but I really wasn’t up to talk at that moment.

After lunch, classes continued and I really was not in the mood to listen to the teachers. I would sometimes doodle, stare at something or just zone out. The day miraculously ended really fast and I went home right away. I felt so physically and mentally drained. While walking home, pain from my scraped knee was now there so every step, there was always this stinging sensation.

I got home and entered the elevator. No one was inside so I sat down on the floor and let my tears fall freely. I hated this day. First I came in late while I scraped my knee, I got scolded and got milk poured all over me. I was completely done for today. When I entered my apartment I dropped my bag and went straight to bed, ignoring the huge amount of assignments I needed to accomplish, and took a really long nap.

I woke up and looked outside my window and saw that it was already dark. The nap helped me recharge physically but I was still tired mentally. I didn’t know what got into me but I found myself going to the building's veranda and just enjoying the city’s view. To be honest, this was the most relaxing part of my day. I was drowning myself in the city’s noise and view until I heard the door to the veranda open. I was ready to tackle this person down but was then surprised to see who was there.

“Oh, Yuna-yah annyeong!” Taeil Oppa said.

“Taeil Oppa annyeong!” I said back less nervous knowing that we’ve already met.

He sat beside me while looking at the view. We both enjoyed the silence until he spoke up.

“How was your day? I saw you sprinting out the elevator this morning.” he said while I was shocked.

“H-how di-”

“I was the one inside the elevator with you. Didn’t know that you didn't notice me. I was about to call out to you until you ran out once the doors opened.” he said to me which made me remember everything that happened that day again. Tears were brimming my eyes again and Taeil Oppa took notice of it while staring at my face. Before I could answer his question earlier he spoke again.

“You know, whenever I feel down or frustrated I would always come up here and relax to let out everything.” he said and I looked at him. He was looking out into the horizon while speaking then his eyes were back to me.

“You don’t have to keep it to yourself. You don’t have to stop yourself from crying. You can let it all out.” he said in the softest voice.

With this, tears fell down my cheeks nonstop. Taeil Oppa pulled me to his chest and hugged me tightly and I cried my heart out. I cried for a while but he never let me go. When I stopped crying and had already collected myself Taeil Oppa spoke again.

“I hope you feel better now since you’ve let it all out.” he said and smiled at me and I smiled back.

“Thank you Oppa.” I said to him while still smiling.

“You know it's getting quite chilly already. How about we go to our apartment and we’ll have some ramen.” he said.

“I-uh thank you for the offer but don’t want to disturbed you guys.” I said trying to politely decline but he still insisted.

“ No, no it's alright, we’ve got the day off tomorrow so it's no problem.” he said.

“We’ll if it won't be a problem to you guys” I said

“Ok lezgetit” he said in a high tone which made me giggle.

We both went to the door and he opened it for me. I went inside and he followed.

‘That was the comfort that I needed’

#taeyong #taeil #johnny #yuta #doyoung #jaehyun #jungwoo #mark #haechan #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct #nct127 #10thFloorBrothers

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pleasefeedthebirds · 4 years ago

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A Relatively Deep Dive Into My “Crème de la Crème” MCs - #2. Arminia Weschen

(“Crème de la Crème” is by @hpowellsmith. See my first post in this series here.)

Arminia “Ms. Weschen” Weschen

she/her/hers

Olive complexion and wavy brown hair

Favors conventionally feminine fashion

Domineering

Manipulative

Traditional → Progressive (*In the very end of the game)

Exceptional Poise and Intrigue

Commonplace Spirit, Wit, and Flair

LOADS more info and spoiler content under the cut!

Ooooo Mean Girl alert! After playing through the game twice as relatively well-meaning albeit inherently-morally-questionable-via-flimsy-upbringings-socialized-within-the-cushion-of-wealth characters, I had an absolute blast throwing high regard for redeeming qualities to the wind, and making a full-on self-centered and socially ruthless manipulator.

As the middle child in a sibling spread of five, Arminia felt overlooked for most of her young life, being the only one of her brood who wasn’t excellent at anything tangible. Her parents—busy-bodied magnates—would be exorbitantly rich if they weren’t such spendthrifts. I take them for bristling, insecure types who enable each other to the extreme, and who cater to their children's’ every material want, supposing that it makes up for being busy and distant. They believe in flagrant displays of luxury as proof of status, which is something that imprinted their kids thoroughly, Arminia included.

Making the executive decision that Arminia was “too good” for Holtsfield, they arranged her transference to Gallatin for her final year of college, hoping to expand her education in social graces before coaxing her into the business world, as they had her older brother and sister. Just before the term began, Arminia’s parents were exposed. They were both involved in an embezzlement scheme each (lol classic) and dropped swiftly and irreparably from their prior standing.

Arminia was already conditioned to view society as a tower, but when her parents fell, it suddenly became a matter of sink or swim, win or lose—and the stakes were higher than ever.

So, she takes Gallatin for her own personal jungle gym. She recognizes the system, and chooses to manipulate it as an aspiring expert of “the game.” Never being the type to talk seriously (not trusting anyone enough), she actually thinks that she’s the first of her circles to realize the hypocritical convolutions of high society and social graces. Instead of rebelling, she leans into it all the more, and clings to her realized understanding as an advantage.

Though working for her own benefit usually comes first (typically by emotionally strongarming kids into doing her bidding), Arminia is no stranger to putting others down for cruel amusement, and may step out of her way to do so, only partially in the spirit of preserving her alpha status. She’s a merciless strategist, because that’s what she thinks it means to thrive in the world today, and with quite the competitive streak, she’s determined to stay on top, no matter how lonely it turns out to be.

5’7”, with a soft, pear-shaped body. Her favorite vice is getting scandalous on the side, so she knows how to flaunt it, too.

Has very thick and dark eyebrows. She’s frequently enraged by their presence, and plucks them relentlessly. They always come back.

Is dexterous with makeup. Her lips are naturally thin, so she draws them out each morning, rouges her cheeks, and softens her face’s edges. On weekends, she dabbles in eyeliner.

Her eyes are a very light brown—nearly yellow at golden hour. For her spotty vision, she has prescribed reading glasses, but never wears them, because she doesn’t like integrating things into her aesthetic that are outside of her choice.

Freckled all over. Their allotment becomes more profuse the tanner she gets. She feigns indifference to them, but shifts between liking them (for distinguishing her) and hating them (for distinguishing her) depending on the day.

Suffers something of a protagonist’s condition, living in a self-made belief that everything she does matters beyond compare. She clings to this idea for the sake of feeling important, but generally fails to recognize that other people are every bit as complex as she is.

Has trouble handling her anger. She’s great at hiding it in the moment, but absolutely rampages when she’s alone.

A tragic kissass to all of her teachers. Mr. Griffith raises an eyebrow, but respects her social wit. I don’t think Mr. Blanchard knows what to do with that kind of deference, and so ignores it. Miss Dalca probably likes her moxie, but thinks she’d be better to use it for good, and has called her out on being unnecessarily pointed in class discussions (Arminia loves and hates this). Lady Renaldt likely sees her as adequate, if a bit too brusque toward her fellow students.

Virtue: 74%

Popularity: 87%

Coursework Grade: A

Exam Mark: C

Extracurricular: Gallatin Swans (offensive)

Entanglements: Platonically engaged to Gonzalez. Physically involved with Florin.

Her only real friend is Gonzalez, who she actually confides in. Not totally, though she gets as close as is doable for her. I think Gonzalez is the only one of her peers who genuinely falls for the faux-nice act, and Arminia takes pity. It’s not kind , but at the end of the day, Arminia still takes her for a total idiot. They get engaged for appearances.

Has a physical relationship with the Honourable Florin Kraemer. Florin seems to thrive on trouble, giving as much as receiving, and Arminia takes risks as her favorite vice. However, post-mine conflict, I imagine Arminia’s scarred into changing for the better, and would do her best to encourage Florin to do the same, at least be more conscious of their actions on other people and what their profligacy is capable of.

Cordial with Auguste, who respected her traditionally respectable appearances at Archambault events.

Cordial with Rosario. She and Arminia shot the shit a few times. The princess’s naïveté was easy for Arminia to work around, and say the right thing to. They wouldn’t easily become genuine friends.

So-so with Freddie, who stays out of Arminia’s way. Arminia likes that, so there’s no issue with them.

Treats Karson like a servant, and sees little issue with that.

Could have been friends with Max. I bet she intrigues him for her scandalous-by-moonlight ways, but her faux-pleasantries absolutely would turn him off.

A bully to Delacroix. Says mocking things to him and his interests in a tone that’s just sweet enough to fly below the radar. Gets a sense of her own social security out of doing so.

She and Blaise were utterly abhorrent to each other. Upon the latter’s first introduction as a thorn in her side, Arminia sniped right back at Blaise like a spitting cat for as long as Blaise was around. She gets a smug satisfaction upon her “resignation,” though she acts sad to avoid coming under fire. Later turns to a confused sense of guilt when she learns where Blaise has really been.

Some Choice Plot Pieces (cue spoilers):

Gathered evidence against Mr. Blanchard in compliance with Lady Renaldt.

Has a surprisingly great working relationship with Miss Benton.

Gathered information for Annick against Lady Renaldt (to avoid a smear on her own reputation).

Endgame (cue SUPER spoilers):

Almost ended up working with Lady Renaldt in the mine plot, hoping to turn the situation to her own gain. However, when Karson spilled that Gaspard Breiner died there, and when Lady Renaldt demanded she send Gonzalez, it was too much to comply with.

Sent Gonzalez to the mines (as part of her own plan), but got everyone out.

Barged right into the graduation ceremony.

Went on to study at Reissenger (I imagine on a lacrosse scholarship—fully just to be with Gonzalez).

Planned a trip with Florin over the summer, where I think she’ll get just a bit more worldly before her coming term at university.

#creme de la creme #arminia weschen #if ref #choice of games

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

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White Crest 101 || Morgan & Margot

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: UMWC

PARTIES: @g0t-ri5h & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Margot gets a crash course in class from her new professor, and what it means to be a transplant White Crestian

The class had started several minutes ago and Margot had just barely rolled out of bed. She changed quickly into a pair of pants, not bothering to change the sweatshirt that she had slept in. There was no time. Margot had a habit of being late, a trait she had inherited from her mother. While her mother thought it was a fashionable faux pas, Margot was simply disorganised. By the time she busted through the back entrance of the room, the professor was halfway through her lecture. The nearest free chair was close to the front, one that would attract a great amount of unwanted attention. Margot trudged down to it, annoying a handful of students that had to stand to let her past. She sat down, listened to the remainder of the lesson, not following any of it. An advisor had called her over the weekend, told her that she didn’t have enough credits for the semester. To her chagrin, this class was one of the few that still had availability. English, a subject she had always struggled to comprehend, starting later would only make it more difficult. The lecture came to an end and Margot began to pack her things. “She’s a great teacher when she’s actually here.” One student said to another. Margot listened intently. “My roommate was telling me she was gone for like a month last semester. No explanation, just poof.” The other gossiped back. The two of them left, and Margot was just about to follow them out when she heard her name be called.

“Do your reflection responses! Do the reading! Make good choices! Remember you have agency in your life!” Morgan shouted her end of class reminders in one breath, waving goodbye to each of them as the filed out. Most waved back with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. They made faces, because they were still young and had too much pride, but no one was above a little personal attention or affirmation. “Ooh, not you, straggler! Yes, you, Margot!” She smiled smugly, waving the roster in front of her. It wasn’t magic powers that gave her the student’s name, just some really attentive refreshing of the faculty center page. “You know…” She eyed the girl and gave a wry smile, “If you only stay for half the class, you’re only getting half your money’s worth. Also, technically, no participation credit. Which is an extra bummer, since it’s the easiest thing to get. But since you’re new, I guess I can let the first day slide. You got some free time, Margot? I’d love to know what brought you to my class this late in the game while we go over make-up work?”

Margot let out a quiet and frustrated sigh. She was so looking forward to going back to her bed. Instead she turned to face the professor. “I’m sorry I was late. I overslept.” Margot knew this was not an adequate excuse by any means, but she had no patience or energy to think of something more creative or reasonable. Margot began to walk towards the lectern in the front of the room, towards Morgan. “It was a great lecture though, the parts I was here for. Very, uh, informative.” She offered this as a consolation. Margot glanced at her watch, as if she had someplace else to be. “Yes, I suppose I can stay for a bit.” She took off her backpack and sat it on the floor where she stood. Margot imagined this could take a while. “I thought I had enough credits for the semester, but apparently I didn’t. Yours was one of the only classes I could join so late. Is there much to catch up on?” Margot dreaded to think of all the homework she had missed, it would only add to the growing stack of overdue work on her desk.

Morgan let out a long-suffering sigh. Of course she had only come here for the credit. She had maybe even heard that it was an easy class to pass, which...wasn’t wrong either. Morgan didn’t think that being a hardass with grades was the way to students’ hearts, or to teaching them anything effective. She tossed Margot a syllabus and gathered the rest of her materials, leading her out of the room and off to the long series of halls and stairs it would take to get to her office. “No, there won’t be too much work. Just the introductory assignment, so I know some useful things about you. And you’ll have to grab the books and catch up on the book we’re finishing up next week. But, it’s really not much. I’m not interested in competing with your other courses for ‘Most Demanding Homework.’ I’m here to help you figure out how to think differently and express yourself more effectively. But--” She paused on the stairs to look over at the girl. “Maybe you have some questions for me? I’m not sure how long you’ve been at the school, but I know it can be a lot sometimes no matter what.”

Morgan’s sigh sounded nearly as pained as her own. If Margot was more empathetic, she may have even apologised for being so flippant and insulting the woman’s career. But, alas, she was not so perceptive. Margot caught the syllabus between her palms and began flipping through the first few pages as she followed Morgan out of the room. As she spoke, Margot made a mental note to source an online copy of this week’s reading material. It would be cheaper that way. “Introductory assignment?” Margot hoped it would be a simple questionnaire; name, age, perhaps favourite pets name. Hopefully it wouldn’t ask her about her lifelong hopes and dreams. She would most definitely fail. “I transferred in this year, so I’m still becoming acquainted with everything here.” Margot explained, “I do have one question, since you asked. Your absences,” Margot prefaced before continuing, “I overheard some students say you disappeared without warning last semester. I was just wondering, will attendance still be required if that occurs again?” Her question was admittedly influenced most by laziness and her wish to stay in bed as late as possible. But, Margot was also just curious, and rather nosey. It was probably an inappropriate question, but it was too late to rescind it.

“Oh, just a short reflection on how you feel about reading and writing about stories and what you want to learn this semester. Learning doesn’t happen by accident, and being clear with yourself on what your intentions are can go a long way to getting the most out of the semester!” Morgan explained. She jogged up the next flight of stairs and turned on the landing, bright with encouragement. She nodded along as she walked, commenting that asking questions were how everyone learned. And then Margot asked. Morgan’s foot slipped on the next set of stairs and she stumbled down to one knee. “Uh, my--a-atendance?” She understood that her students flourished better with consistency and she knew that even though none of last semester’s students had the nerve to ask her what had happened or express how it had made them feel, she knew they had their opinions on it. What Morgan did not know was that Margot was the kind of student to cut to the chase, no matter how sharp she needed to be. She straightened herself up and smiled again, scrambling to recover. “Uh, well, it is possible that I may cancel class for unforeseen reasons, in which case there won’t be any reason to take attendance, but if there is class, then there will be someone to teach you, even if for some reason it isn’t me. And if there is someone to teach you, then they will be taking attendance and passing on the roster to me.” Her voice was growing tighter, breathier. She was forgetting to breathe. Morgan hissed through her teeth for breath and forced herself to meet Margot’s eyes. “Is there something else that you wanted to ask me about my absences, Margot?”

Margot’s hand reached out to grab Morgan’s elbow as she stumbled. “Oh, shit!” Margot cursed under her breath. She had clearly taken her professor by surprise. But, as quickly as Morgan’s pleasant smile had faltered, it was back in it’s rightful place. “Very well.” Margot responded to the thorough explanation, “I only ask because my course load is already so full. My programming classes are very time consuming, and I just want to ensure I can keep my schedule intact.” A lie, Margot thrived in disorganisation. Her ‘unplanned routine’, she liked to think. “I’m glad to know that the class would be unaffected in such an event.” Margot smiled in a disingenuous, thin line, hoping to settle the sharpness of Morgan’s breath. She was being her most polite self now, the facade she reserved only for her mother and father. It seemed she had distressed the teacher, Margot wondered why. To her it was such a straightforward question. “No, your absences, and reasons for them are entirely your personal business.” For now anyways. Margot’s mind was already in front of her computer, researching. Her question had tugged at a nerve. Margot liked to know what made people tick, their darkest secrets and how best to exploit them to her advantage. “Did you still want to go over the make-up work?” They were still frozen on the staircase, and Margot wondered whether Morgan would still be willing to help her cause despite the hostility in her tone and posture.

Maybe all the mushroom stress was getting to Morgan too much. She’d been so sure a second ago that this girl was trying to get under her skin, needling about her ‘personal emergency’ last year. But Margot stayed on that line of courtesy, and Morgan wondered whether she made other people feel this way when she asked about their kids or their losses or their dates. Maybe people with their sanity just barely intact didn’t like surprise personal questions. Who knew? Morgan tried to smile again, better this time. “Thank you. I uh, appreciate that. And, yes, of course. I want you to succeed. There’s copies of all the handouts on the class website, since I know half of you guys live your life on your computer.” She climbed up the rest of the way and started down the dimly lit hall, ignoring its off-center doors and the soft give of the floor that was just too much on the wrong side of uncanny to bear contemplating for long. “I know I can’t promise a lot for you, Margot, especially in a place like White Crest, but I can say I’ll try my best for you.”

Margot was glad that she had somewhat diffused the situation, having Morgan dislike her would only make passing this class harder. Once more, they were on route to her office. Margot detested this university, most of all it’s appearance, it was as if it had never had a renovation or even been repainted. She visibly cringed as they continued on their path. She had never been in such a lacklustre environment before, having been born and bred in quiet luxury. She hadn’t acknowledged the privilege while she had it, but since leaving MIT, it’s all she could think about. What she had lost. What had been taken from her. “I appreciate the help. I need it.” It seemed that Morgan was one of the more passionate professors at UMWC, most would not give a student this much assistance. “I’m trying my best to fit in here. It’s just,” Margot paused, considering her words, “such a strange place.” Strange didn’t even scratch the surface. “Have you always lived here? In White Crest?”

Morgan’s office was all the way at the end of the hall, through a communal office supply room stocked with paper the wrong size for the printer and coffee that was perpetually burnt. Morgan’s office was through a sticky door off the corner, one desk in five crammed together. Today, only Karl and Kirk were nursing whiskeys in coffee mugs since Kyle (or his body rather) still hadn’t been found. “Sorry, boys. Official business. Come back in fifteen minutes?” Her voice was bittersweet, sharpening an invisible knife under its surface. Karl and Kirk put their mugs down so fast, whiskey spilled over the sides. They folded their laptops under their arms and shuffled away. Kirk clumsily dropped a mint tea bag on her desk before mumbling an apology and shutting the door behind him.

Morgan turned to her student, smile tight with awkwardness. “Don’t mind the Medieval Bros. They’re mostly harmless. Now, anyways. And I’m a transplant from Texas. Strange is probably...the gentlest word for how things are here. Which, just some unofficial wisdom? Don’t be out after dark alone, especially on the full moon. Stay away from the cosplay bars, the crowds there are more dangerous than they look. Don’t go off trail if you’re a hiker, ever. And keep some bleach on hand in case your bathroom starts sprouting blood, eyeballs, or fish.”

Margot restrained her laughter as the two bumbling men were ushered out of the room. She knew the smell of whiskey well enough to know that wasn’t coffee seeping from their pores. Normally such unprofessionalism would surprise her, but this was the new normal. “Yum, mint tea.” Margot picked the bag up, twirled it between her fingers a few times before dropping it into one of the mugs. She had a sly smile on her face, the result of witnessing something she probably shouldn’t have.

“Texas, wow. I never would have guessed. You don’t even have the signature accent.” Margot made herself comfortable, taking a seat in one of the desk chairs that had become vacant by Karl and Kirk. At Morgan’s advice, Margot’s mouth opened, then closed, not knowing how to respond. She didn’t know what to make of all of these random warnings; skeledogs, mimes, now full moons and the dark. “Why does everyone keep telling me to be careful?” Her eyes narrowed. “I know how to take care of myself.”

Morgan reached into her desk and took out some things from her cache of school supplies, the paper handouts, a journal to be graded, the first assignment, and a spare copy of the first book. “Oh, that,” she said, laughing at the teabag. “They’re just trying to...well, make up for their existence. I think they’re really coming along when it comes to respecting women, though they should probably figure out how to do it without being induced by fear.” She handed Margot the stack of assignments. “Maybe at your old school that was true, but things are different here in ways they don’t tell you in the brochures. So, take these, follow the instructions carefully, and have them in by next week, and I’ll waive the rest of what you’ve missed. And, seriously, be careful. Don’t die!”

#wr margot #wr chatzy #wr margot chatzy #white crest 101 #wickedswriting

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jimintykookies · 6 years ago

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Pairing: hoseok x female reader

Genre: phoenix!AU, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: intercourse, oral (male and female), loss of virginity (female), major character death (non-descriptive)

A/N: Here it is, my first fic on this account. I’m so excited to debut my writing on here and even more excited to do it as part of a collab full of wonderful writers (many of whom I look up to). If you would like to check out their contributions to Cryptaesthesia, the link is here. I hope you enjoy and please, please, please leave feedback. Love ya!!

“Don’t forget to remind your parents about the conferences.”

You watched fondly as your hoard of kindergartners ran off to greet their respected parent or guardian. Your smile widened, quietly observing them excitedly explaining the events of their day. You loved your job and you loved your kids. Each one was special in their own unique way: Ella built towers with anything she could get her hands on, Lucas was the master painter and Bianca and Taylor were the Double Dutch queens.

You were familiar with most of the parents as well. There was the group of ‘Mean Girl’ moms who actively shamed anyone who gave their kids so much as a cookie. Rachel and Elliot Kasper were the young, dreamy couple who were so in love it was disgusting. Mrs. Wells was the Master of the Bake Sales, who made the best chocolate chip cookies you’d ever had. And then there was Kim Taehyung: the hot single dad with eyes of honey and a heart of gold. He had moved to the states a few years ago with his daughter Jisoo, and you couldn’t exactly blame the moms who would swoon over him at PTA meetings. Between his caramel hair, puppy dog eyes and a jawline that could cut diamonds, no one could blame you for harboring a little crush on him. It didn’t help that the sound of “Miss. Y/N” rolling of his tongue was enough for your panties to become ruined. How can someone’s voice be deeper than the Pacific ocean?

Your eyes quickly found him as they ran over the school courtyard. He was crouched beside Jisoo, golden skin glistening in the early May sun, lips stretched into a large smile as he chatted with his daughter. You mentally cursed how good he looked in a plain black t-shirt, because no human should look that hot. And those arms, god those arms. You could barely breathe when his biceps flexed to pick Jisoo’s backpack.

You lingered in the courtyard until you were sure all your kids were gone before slowly dragging yourself back to your classroom. Due to school policy, you were required to stay for another hour before you could head home to your couch and a warm cup of tea. Doing your best to fill up the time, you stop by the teacher’s lounge to make yourself a cup of bland coffee, an important aid in making your way through grading thirty-two math tests. You loved to teach, but grading had to be one of the worst jobs on the planet. While your kids were wonderful, you couldn’t say the same about their handwriting. You had suffered through many a headache trying to decipher e’s from c’s and h’s from n’s.

Sure enough an hour later you were sitting at your desk rubbing your temples. Accompanying your growing headache was the familiar queasy stomach and empty chest. These phenomenons make up what you call the Feeling. The Feeling had plagued you since you were eight years old and you accidentally set your Barbie doll on fire.

For the most part, it had been a quiet Tuesday evening. Your parents had gotten into another fight, but that wasn’t exactly out of character at this point. You were alone in your room about to make Ken kiss the bride, when you heard a loud crash from the kitchen. You jumped at the sound, heart beating fast. Crashes often meant ugly fights and because of this, loud noises set off your fight or flight instincts. When you looked back at your doll, you found that your dear Barbie, along with your hand, were ablaze. Despite the fire, the burning sensation was nowhere to be found, and despite your surprise, you made no sound. Instead, you stared at the flames until your breathing and heartbeat slowed and the fire extinguished itself. The doll was a melted, black mess, but your hand was otherwise untouched.

That was the first of many times you accidentally set something on ire. Byt the time you were eleve, your pyrokinetic abilities were somewhat under control. As far as you were aware, nobody else knew about it and that was the way you wanted it to stay. However, your control over your flame had a direct relationship with the Feeling. As your control grew, the Feeling grew in tandem. You don’t know exactly how to describe the Feeling, but the closest you had ever come was it felt like you were missing the other half of your soul. At first, it was just a lonely thought it the back of your mind, but as you matured, it became more physical and more distracting. It was a dull ache most of the time and just enough distraction would make you forget about it, but some days it screamed at you, making it hard to focus on work and at its worst, leave you bedridden. You were to afraid to go to a doctor because while you didn’t know the exact cause, you were fairly certain that it was connected to your powers and you weren’t in the mood to become some lab experiment.

Today it hadn’t been too bad, but without proper distraction, it still bugged you. You had found over the years that peppermint tea eased the feeling a bit, so you found yourself once again in the teacher’s lounge, boiling a steaming cup. You were in the middle of stirring in some honey, when Kim Namjoon, the vice principal, approached you.

“Hey, Y/N.” He smiled fondly at you.

“Hey, Namjoon, what’s up?”

You liked Namjoon. Not romantically, but as a person. He was intelligent, funny and genuinely cared about both the staff and the kids. He had amazing ideas about how to make the students learning simultaneously more fun and more immersive, all while providing constant support for the teachers. He would make a much better principal then Min Jinsoo, who only liked his job for his pay.

“I got your field trip approved.”

A few weeks ago you had sent in a request for a field trip to a local dance studio that offered classes about movement for younger children. You were currently leading a unit on health and exercise and you figured this would be a great way to get the kids out of the classroom. When you had told Namjoon about your idea, he had immediately been on board. However, Jinsoo was an absolute stinge, and rarely granted field trip requests. This time, however, you seemed to have gotten lucky.

“Really? That’s great. What did you have to bribe Min with this time?”

“Bribery? Don’t you know who I am? I charmed him with my outstanding rhetoric.”

You raised an eyebrow. He sighed.

“Free coffee for a month.”

“Jesus, Joon, you didn’t have to do that!”

“A ‘thanks’ would have been sufficient.”

“Well, thank you. This will really mean a lot to the kids. We haven’t gone on a field trip since October.”

“No problem. You know the kid’s education is the most important thing to me.”

“I do, but we both know how expensive Jung’s prefered coffee is.”

“I never promised him that. If you think I am bringing anything other than that gas station shit, you are sadly mistaken.”

“Well, thanks still. Anyway, I better get going. I have a crap load of tests to grade. As much as I love these kids, their handwriting is really something else.”

“Aish, I know. Good luck. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Kim.”

An hour later, you’re finally done with checking the tests and entering the scores into the gradebook. You pack up your stuff, grab your coat and keys and head out to your car. The one positive about staying behind to grade tests, is that it means you miss rush hour. Instead of an hour, your drive home only takes thirty minutes. However, by the time you make it home, the Feeling begins to take over. You immediately make yourself another cup of peppermint tea before curling up on the couch and putting a show on Netflix. You can’t really focus on the plot though, because the Feeling is slowly taking over all of your senses. You hated when it got like this: all consuming, demanding that you pay attention to it. What you hated most is that there was no way for you to fix it. For all you knew, you would spend the rest of your life like this and if the pattern continued, it would only get worse.

You ended up giving up on watching the show and instead making yourself a light dinner before going to bed at six-thirty. You don’t fall asleep for a long time, tears streaming down your face as you longed for someone to comfort you, to tell you it was okay. When you can no longer keep your eyes open, you fall into a dreamless slumber.

HOSEOK POV

“One and two and three and four and…” Hoseok had long cutout Jimin’s counting, his only focus being his body and the music.

He loved the feeling of the solid, hardwood dance floor beneath his feet. With each step he felt more alive and he could feel a rush of energy run through him every time he breathed in. He threw his body into every leap, every step, every beat. Dance was his life and he communicated that with his movement.

He got so caught up in dancing that he hadn’t realized that Jimin had stopped moving. One second he was flying through the air and the next he was colliding with Jimin’s hard body before falling to the floor. He put his hand out to catch himself, but his weight was too much for his wrist and he cried out as sharp pain shot up his arm.

“Fuck, Hobi, are you okay?”

Jimin was immediately hovering over him, as he rolled on the floor clutching his wrist.

“Ahh, shit it hurts.”

“Do you need me to take you to the hospital? Do you need painkillers? Ice?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just help me up.”

Using his good hand, Jimin lifted him to his feet and helped him hobble to the front desk where they kept a mini-fridge with ice. He hissed when he felt the cold against his now swollen wrist.

“Are you sure your fine?” Jimin’s voice was shaking with worry.

“I’ll be alright. Go back to dancing, I’ll be in in a minute.”

Jimin cast him a worried glance, but listened to him anyway. As soon as Jimin was gone, Hoseok channeled the energy that was always bubbling in his core to spread out down to his arm. He sighed in relief as the swelling went down. He became so relaxed, that he didn’t notice that he had set fire to the towel he had wrapped around the ice.

“Fuck. Shit. Goddammit.”

He quickly beat out the flame before throwing the towel in the trash, hoping no one would notice it. It wasn’t the first time he had accidentally set something on fire and he doubted it would be the last. Ever since he was eight years old, he had been setting random things aflame. Lucky for him, the only person who had ever caught him was his school’s druggie. The kid had blabbered to everyone on campus about Hoseok’s powers but every had passed it off as an LSD induced hallucination. Despite having them for his entire life, he had no idea where his powers came from, he just knew that they were accompanied by the strangest ache he had ever felt.

He waited a couple more minutes before heading back into the dance studio. Jimin had just finished running through the song again and was brushing the sweat from his forehead.

When he saw Hoseok, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Hey, what are you doing? Shouldn’t you be icing that?”

“It’s fine, just some temporary pain. I’m good. Should we run it again?”

“Actually, we have some kids from a local school coming in in a couple days. I was hoping you could teach it because it’s my parent’s 50th anniversary and I have to help with the party.”

“Uh, sure. How old are they?”

“Around five or six. Kindergartners.”

“Aww, just little kiddos.”

Hoseok had always had a soft spot for little ones. They were always so adorable, prancing around the studio, attempting to follow his instructions.

“Yeah, it’s a field trip from the local school. I think you’ll really like the teacher. She’s hot.”

Jimin sent him a wink and he rolled his eyes in response. Over the years, Hoseok had found himself perpetually single. Don’t get him wrong, he had got his dick wet plenty of times, but every relationship he had found himself in felt suffocating. Jimin, however, was a hopeless romantic and made it his life mission to find the girl of Hoseok’s dreams. This teacher was only one of the billion that Jimin had tried to set him up with and he doubted this one would be any different from the rest. Still, there was a part of him that hoped that she might fix the hole that was becoming more and more obvious every day.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. You had never felt this good in your entire life. You had just stepped into the dance studio to meet the instructor for your class, normal procedure. However, as soon as his hand clasped yours in a friendly shake, it felt like your entire body was healed. You almost jumped in surprise at the sensation and it took you a solid minute to recuperate from the shock. Throughout the class you found yourself trying to find ways to get as close to him as possible: the nearer you were, the more euphoric you felt. The hole that had began to become unbearable the last couple days, was suddenly gone. During the lunch break, you found yourself talking to him. The conversation was easy, and while you normally felt anxious around guys, you felt completely safe around Hoseok. He was handsome, a good dancer, and the absolute sweetest around the kids. You prayed to god he was single, because you weren’t sure you would be able to handle of the pain of him having a girlfriend. You dreaded having to leave. You didn’t know if you would ever feel like this again.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. You almost wanted to cry during your departure, but instead were forced to help manage your small children. When you shook his hand in goodbye, you felt a small piece of paper being passed to you. When you glanced at it, you were elated to see the ten digits scrawled in blue ink. You couldn’t help the smile that grew across your face and when you glanced back up at him, you burst out laughing at his cheesy wink. You didn’t notice your scarf in a crumpled heap in the corner of the dance studio, but Hoseok certainly did.

You at in your desk chair, lazily swinging back and forth, while you debated whether or not you should text him. You hadn’t had much dating experience in your life (read: none at all) and the last thing you wanted was to come off as too eager. That being said, you were eager to see him again. You longed to feel the comfortable ease that came with being around him and his gorgeous smile. You began to swirl into an anxious spiral, mind switching back and forth to the point that you felt a headache begin to form. You were so deep in your thoughts, that you didn’t hear the knock on the door or see Hoseok walk in.

You glanced up in surprise, “Oh...what are you doing here?”

He broke into a gentle smile as your tongue tripped over itself, which in turn made you smile as well. Just him being in the room made your mind calm and your anxiety quell. That all disappeared when you noticed the scarf, your scarf, in his hand. You come to the fast and disappointing realisation that he is not there for you, but simply to return your belonging.

“I’m here to return this...”

His voice was soft and unsteady, breath quick. He almost seemed nervous.

“...andtoaskyouonadate.”

He spit the words out so fast, it took you a moment to comprehend what he had just said. When the realisation did hit you, you opened your mouth before closing it in complete disbelief.

“I..well..um..you wanna go on a date? With me?” You couldn’t keep the disbelief out of your voice.

“Well..uh..yeah. Ya know..if that is something you would like?”

It was a good thing no one else was there to see you because you were both a blushing mess. Hoseok hadn’t actually gone a date with a girl in years (he was pretty sure casual one night stands didn’t count as dates) and you had never been on a date at all. You hadn’t even had your first kiss.

“I would like that...a date..that...we should do.”

Your nervousness seemed to cure him of his, as he burst out in the cutest giggle you had ever heard (keep in mind you work with five year olds).

“Thank god, if you had said no, I swear I would’ve died.”

You smile, the butterflies in your stomach still fluttering, but no longer preventing you from being a coherent human being.

“I’m just happy you’re not just here to return the scarf.”

“I’m happy you left it so I had an excuse to see you again.”

You giggled.

“So how does dinner and a movie next Saturday sound?”

“It sounds just perfect.”

“Well I should probably go, it’s Jimin’s birthday and if I don’t pick up the alcohol for his party, I don’t know if you will ever see me again.”

“Well then you better go, I don’t want a missing man as my date. Text me the details?”

“Sounds good.”

Time goes by slower than you would like, but now Hoseok texts you daily and that keeps your impatience at bay. By the time Saturday evening rolls around, you are a chaotic mess, trying to figure out what to wear. You always thought it was stupid how much time and effort put into getting ready for these kinds of things, but now you fully understood the pressure of trying not to look like you tried too hard, but also like you tried a little. Society is stupid like that. By the time you were walking out the door, you had spent nearly three hours on your hair, makeup and outfit, and you swore to god if the date went well, Hoseok was going to have to deal with you being a mess from now on.

You meet him at a new Mexican restaurant equidistant from both of your houses. You almost choked when you saw him, his usual attire consisting of sweatpants and loose tees replaced with a leather jacket and black skin-tight jeans. He looked god-level good and you wondered how soon you could get water because, goddamn, if you were going to get through this night you were going to need a lot of it.

As it turns out, despite his “bad boy” outfit, Hoseok was the perfect gentlemen. He held the door open, offered to take your jacket, and pulled out your chair for you. Just like the other day at the dance studio, conversation with him was as easy as it had ever been. You felt completely relaxed, and despite your generally closed off ways, you were willing to be completely vulnerable. It was simple and easy and you didn’t have to think about anything.

Everything was going great until you left the restaurant to walk to the nearby movie theater. You were halfway there when you ran into the one person you would pay money to never have to speak to again: Jeon Jungkook, your high school crush.

You and Jungkook had been in the same friend group in high school and were actually fairly close. You had spent many a night helping his piss drunk ass home and sobering him up so his father wouldn’t get mad and beat him again. You grew closer as more and more of your friends either graduated or became self-righteous jerks and by the end of your junior year, you considered him to be your best friend.

But then something changed. Jungkook grew distant within a matter of weeks, only talking to you when absolutely necessary. You were left heartbroken and confused, but when you tried confront him on the matter, he left you with more questions, then he answered. You later learned that he had found out about your little crush on him and instead of handling it like a mature human being, he ditched you out of embarrassment for your “pitiful ass” (his words apparently).

“Oh hey.”

Hey. Those were the first word to you in ten years, after abandoning you when he was all you had left. You glared at him, hand tightening around Hoseok’s.

“Hey.”

Your voice was quiet. You didn’t know what Jungkook wanted, but that didn’t stop you from being terrified that he would say something to make Hoseok never want to talk to you again. You were so happy for the first time in your life, and here was the one person who might just ruin it for you.

“Who’s this?”

Hoseok looked back and forth between you, clearly confused.

“This is my..uh..ex-friend, Jungkook.”

“Now that’s no way to introduce your best friend from high school.”

You hated that he looked so happy. That he was confident. You had wanted the world to rip him apart for what he did to you, but instead it seemed to only have built him up more.

“What do you want Jungkook?”

Despite your attempts to control it, you were sure both men could here the anger laced in your tone.

“Gosh, Y/N, I was just trying to be nice.”

“Oh, now you’re being nice? Maybe you should’ve tried that a couple years ago.”

This seemed to tick Jungkook off, his brows furrowing and his lips curling in a spiteful frown.

“Well sorry I didn’t want your pathetic ass trailing around behind me like a lost puppy.”

He turned to Hoseok.

“Let me give you some advice man, get out while you still can. She’s just an attention seeker and a clingy bitch. God, I can’t believe I was ever friends with you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and before Hoseok can say anything in response, you were bolting down the street in the direction of your home, not looking behind you once.

Over the next few weeks you ignore Hoseok’s calls and texts, too embarrassed to talk to him. Over the course of the next month, you flirt with Taehyung and he ends up asking you out. You agree. He was much more confident than Hoseok and even though you didn’t feel the same relief as you did when Hobi was around, you thought that maybe getting out into the dating world would help fill up the hole that had gotten worse since you stopped hanging out with Hoseok.

Taehyung picked you up at your apartment before driving you to mini-golf. Like Hoseok, he was a perfect gentleman and the conversation was easy, but you didn’t feel the connection you had before. After letting you beat him (even though he denied it ferociously), he took you to a quiet cafe near your home. You were talking quietly about various teaching methods when you saw him.

Hoseok look tired and distraught as he dodged the barista’s attempts to flirt with him. You tried to focus on your conversation, but your eyes kept wandering back to where he was standing, waiting for his coffee. He hadn’t seemed to notice you yet and it was a fact you were thankful for. Despite the fact that you weren’t interested in Taehyung romantically, you didn’t need yet another date ruined by a ghost from your past. However, you’re luck seemed to runout when his eyes glanced over you. You could see the exact moment he understood what he was looking at.

A look of determination came over him as he grabbed his drink before beelining straight towards your table.

“Why the fuck are you ignoring me?”

You flinched at his sudden harsh words and you would’ve paid a million dollars to get swallowed up by a giant hole right then and there. Tae looked at you, obviously confused. You gulped audibly before opening your mouth.

“Hi, Hoseok.” You heard your voice shake and your will to live shrunk even smaller.

“Just answer my goddamn question, Y/N.”

You looked apologetically at Taehyung, “Can you excuse us for a moment?”

He nods, still confused.

You grabbed Hoseok’s hand and drag him outside of the coffee shop before turning to really look at him for the first time since your date. You could now clearly see how unwell he was. His lips were chapped and the dark circles under his eyes made him look almost dead. Edward looked more alive than him.

“Well?”

His voice wasn’t annoyed, just exasperated.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him from under your eyelashes.

“That’s it?”

“No. I am really sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you, I was just embarrassed. Jungkook, the guy we ran into, I used to have a thing for him and he found out and he thought I was pathetic because of it so he stopped hanging out with me. I just didn’t want you to think about me the same way he did. I..I really like you, Hoseok and I didn’t want you to hurt me like he had.”

Hoseok stared at you blankly and you felt the butterflies in your stomach begin to swarm with anxiety.

“Please say something.”

He looked at you in the eyes and you see his facial features begin to soften.

“I would never think of you as pathetic, Y/N. I’m sorry if I ever made it seem like it was even possible for me to think that. I really like you too, if you haven’t noticed and I haven’t felt this way about someone for a really long time. I just thought I had screwed up somehow, which, admittedly wouldn’t have been the first time. I just…”

You cut off his rambling by attaching your lips to his. He stood frozen in shock for a few moments before his brain registers what’s happening. He then begins to his move his mouth against yours. You felt a wave of warmth wash over you and your entire body relaxed into him. You don’t notice the heat at first, you are so consumed by the feeling of Hoseok’s lips on yours. The light is what drew your attention away from his mouth and to your arms, both of which were on fire.

You draw back in a panic, a yelp released from your mouth.

“Oh my god.”

You had set Hoseok on fire. You knew your powers would be a burden, but you had never imagined something like this would ever happen. By now, of course, Hoseok had noticed the flames too and was also in a state of panic.

“Oh shit. Oh my god, I set you on fire. Fuck, fuck fuck.”

“Wait, what?”

You pulled back.

“You set me on fire?”

Hoseok looked at you confused. It then came to both of your realisation that neither of you were screaming in pain, as one who was on fire would.

“Wait, can you…?” You looked up at Hoseok with bright eyes, “Can you light things on fire?”

Hoseok nodded slowly like he was afraid for the truth to come out. He looked down at the ground almost embarrassed.

“I can too.”

At that, his head snapped up and looked you straight in the eye.

“You’re lying.” His voice was rough, but you could hear a glimmer of hope in his undertone.

“I’m not. See.”

You lifted your hand and produced a small flame from your palm. As if in a trance, Hoseok’s own hand came out to brush the tip of the fire. When he deemed it harmless, he grasped your hand in his own and pulled you in for a hug.

“I’m not alone,” he whispers shakely.

His arms were tight around you and you once again were overwhelmed with feelings of comfort and belonging. After a long minute, he pulled away again, eyes glassy and lips curved into a shaky smile.

“Look, Y/N, I know that we haven’t known each other that long, but for the first time in my entire life, I feel like I belong somewhere and that somewhere is with you. So would you be willing to do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

You looked up at him, eyes wide and heart open before nodding as tears began to trickle down your cheeks.

“Yes, Hoseok, I would love to.”

With that he pulled you in for a kiss, this one a bit more reckless and messy. You got caught up in how safe his arms felt and how euphoric your entire being was just because his lips were on yours. You never wanted the moment to end.

Eventually you pulled back when someone clears their throat. You find Taehyung standing outside the cafe door, looking a bit awkward.

“Uh, I’m gonna head out.”

“Oh god, Taehyung, I’m so sorry. This isn’t anything against you, I swear. You’re a really great guy-”

“It’s fine. Seriously. Look, I think your cute and I would have loved to date you, but just from looking at the two of you together, I can tell that he’s the one you should be with.”

A small smile graces your mouth at the comment.

“Thanks for being so understanding. I’m sure you’ll find the perfect girl out there somewhere.”

“Thanks. Have a great night, Y/N.”

“You too, Tae.”

With that he walks away, leaving you to sink into your new boyfriend’s arms.

You had never believed in fairytales and had a general distaste toward rom-coms. With your life being so bitter and lonely, you found it hard to believe anything close to the semblance of true love could be real. Hoseok completely flipped your world view. With him, everything was easier, lighter. If you were having troubles with work, he would be there to rant to and then take you to get a cup of coffee.

You had discussed your powers and found your experiences to remarkably similar: you both set things on fire at a young age, before gradually gaining control of it. You both had also experienced the missing feeling in your soul which had only grown with time, but most importantly, you both knew that that hole was gone as long as you were with each other.

Despite his disclaimer of not having a girlfriend since his junior year of high school, Hoseok went above and beyond in your relationship in ways that made you feel like you might be an inadequate girlfriend. The dates he planned were always fun and interesting but he also had an interesting knack for knowing when you just needed to stay in for the evening and watch movies while cuddling.

Somewhere along the line, the question of sex came in. You had barely kissed anyone before Hoseok, much less ever had sex and you were very embarrassed to admit this to him. He, however, was very understanding, and was willing to wait as long as you wanted.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he had said, “I would love to fuck you into high heavens right now, but I know that losing your virginity is scary and I don’t want you to feel any pressure whatsoever.”

You had felt much better after that and neither of you had touched the subject since. Before you knew it, you had almost been dating for a year. Your life had become the life you could only have dreamed of twelve months ago. Even Namjoon had mentioned how much happier you seemed.

You had gotten to know Hoseok’s friends as well and you often hung out as a group. You had grown especially close to Jimin, who was constantly trying to woo Hoseok’s other close friend, Yoongi.

“I just don’t understand,” he would complain to you, “I know he likes me, so why does he give me the cold shoulder all the time. We literally slept together. He had his dick inside me for fucks sake!”

“Maybe he’s just scared of commitment.”

“Scared of commitment my ass, what more could you need when you have my peach butt on demand 24/7.”

For your one year anniversary, Hoseok planned a picnic on the beach. You ate chinese takeout since neither of you could cook for shit and talked while watching the sun set over the ocean. After eating, you strolled along together, barefoot in the sand, hand in hand. You would playfully splash him with your foot and he would threaten to throw you into the chilly water. Your conversation was careless and free and your heart felt light. You wouldn’t have changed a thing, even for a million dollars. Eventually he stopped walking and pulled you to face him.

You looked up at him and giggled, but your smile dropped when you saw how serious he looked.

“What’s up?”

You felt your stomach sinking.

“I just wanted to take a moment to say how much you mean to me, Y/N. Before I met you, I didn’t even realise how shitty my life was. It was all grey and boring and sure there were times where I was happy but for the most part I was lonely and tired. And then you came in and you lit the entire thing up. The past year with you has by far been the best in my entire life. I feel so happy and free and like there isn’t a thing in the world that could change that. I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much and I just wanted you to know that.”

You felt the tears as they poured down your cheek. You were breathless, barely able to comprehend what he was saying.

“I love you too, Jung Hoseok.”

With that, he pulled you in for a kiss, his hands grasping your cheeks. His kissed you with such a ferocity that it felt like he was trying to transfer his soul into you. You were faintly aware of the fact that you were in public and that your bodies were probably catching on fire from the intensity, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. You just wanted to be consumed by Jung Hoseok.

You pulled away first when your lungs began to burn from the lack of air. Hoseok looked down with you and you would have to be blind not to see the pure adoration that filled his eyes.

“I have one more thing to ask.”

“Anything.”

“Will you move in with me?”

You don’t even think before nodding. And then you are kissing again. That’s when you realise you want him. All of him. You loved him and he loved you and there was no one else on the planet you would ever want to be with.

“Hoseok...I want to do it. Tonight.”

His gaze felt intense as his brown eyes met yours.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel bad about it.”

“We’ve been together for a year and I love you so fucking much Jung Hoseok. There’s no one else in the entire world I would rather do it with.”

Once he realized that you were really serious about having sex with him, his entire demeanor changed. His eyes darkened and you giggled as he grabbed your hand dragging you back to the car.

“Eager much?”

“Look, I love you, but I haven’t had sex in like a year and a half. Forgive me if I am a bit excited to finally fuck the love of my life.”

You giggled again.

Despite his eagerness before, Hoseok insisted on taking it slow. Instead of pushing you up against the wall as soon as he closed the door like you had wished, he made you sit on the couch while he “got ready”. You let him, wondering what in the world he would possibly need to change in order to have sex. Maybe he was cleaning his dick. You giggled at the thought.

However, all traces of humor were erased when Hoseok guided you by the waist to his bedroom, only for you to find the room lit up with candle light.

“Sorry that there aren’t any rose petals, but I didn’t exactly have any forewarning so I hope this works.”

“Hoseok, this is perfect. You’re perfect. I love you so much.”

With that, his lips are once again on yours and you’re being pushed back until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto the plush mattress. Hoseok’s hand found your breast and he softly groped it, enticing a soft sigh from you. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Lewd smacking noises fill the room. Yearning to be closer to Hoseok’s solid body you wrapped your arms tight around his neck, and pulled him as close to you as possible.

Hoseok’s hand moved from your tit, and traveled to the hem of your sundress, where he began to draw small, teasing circles. You arched your back into him, a small moan slipping out of your mouth. His erection is pressed against your thigh, and you feel a small bubble of pride swell up in you. You had spent so much of your life doubting how you look and how you act, but here you were with a man who found you overwhelmingly attractive and on top of it, loved you with the depths of his soul.

You soon pulled away from the soft comforts of his mouth, only to tug at the hem his t-shirt before he gets the hint and removes the offensive fabric. You had seen Hoseok shirtless many times before, when he was swimming or dancing or during one of your many make-out sessions, but his broad shoulders and tight abs never failed to make you clench your thighs to together.

Hoseok noticed your stare and chuckled.

“As much as I appreciate you appreciating me, I think it’s only fair that you remove a little something too, princess.”

You felt your core tighten at the pet name, and you found yourself eagerly shrugging the dress over your head before you threw it off the bed to join Hoseok’s shirt. Your simple lace bralette and lavender cotton underwear weren’t exactly the sexiest lingerie one could wear, but the dark look in Hoseok’s eyes could have fooled you.

Then he was crawling back over you, lips attached to the side of your neck as he helplessly rutted down on your thigh. Your threw your head back in a moan when he bit down on a particular sensitive spot near the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Expletives fell from your lips as pleasure clouded your mind and you felt the wetness in your panties soak through the flimsy material.

One of Hoseok’s callused hands managed to make its way down your side before it resumed its place on the inside of your thigh. This time he moved them slowly upwards until you could swear you could feel the heat of his fingertips through your underwear. He lightly pressed on your clit, testing the waters before your soft gasp led him to add more pressure, rubbing in gentle circles. You whined at the motion, the unfamiliar feeling of someone else touching you there sent you into a heated frenzy.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

The low timbre of Hoseok’s voice rendered you speechless and you could only whine in response. He pushed the cotton aside before he continued his previous motions. The direct contact almost felt too much, your nerve endings on fire. Your fingernails dug into the bare skin of Hoseok’s back and he let out a low growl in response. He removed his fingers from your core, leaving you a whimpering mess in his wake. His fingers found their way to the clasp of your bra before swiftly undoing it. The moment the garment left your body, insecurity flowed through you. You resisted the urge to cover up your exposed chest with your arms. Hoseok seemed to notice the doubt in your eyes and in response, smiled down at you.

“It’s okay, princess. You’re fucking perfect. There’s nothing you need to worry about.”

His words soothed you and you relaxed as his palm slowly grazed against the side of your breast. You felt his lips slowly kiss down your chest before wrapping around your nipple. The sensation was completely foreign to you and your brain completely blanked as his warm tongue delivered soft licks. His fingers came to pinch the other nipple and you let out a high pitched moan in surprise.

He soon abandoned you breasts in favor of kissing down your abdomen. Your skin tingle and his touch only served to further electrify you. Upon reaching the hem of your panties, he kissed around the edge of the band before he grasped it with his teeth. Your lustful gaze followed him as he drug the fabric down your legs at an infuriating pace. Once the underwear had joined the ever growing pile of clothes, his lips attached themselves to the inside of your thighs, leaving small, deliberate bites that you were sure would become purple marks by morning. He moved himself to comfortably sit between your legs before glancing up at you with dark eyes.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You whine.

“Yes, it’s fine, just please touch me.”

Permission granted, he dove in, taking a tentative lick, before the soft lips that you loved so much wrapped around your clit. He moaned at the taste and you threw your head back, unable to comprehend how you got so lucky as to have this beautiful man, laying before you, eating you out like there wasn’t a finer meal in the world.

“Princess, you taste like honey. I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me all these months.”

Words failed you and you responded by clenching your thighs around his head, trying to bring him closer to you. Your eyes shot open when you felt the tip of his finger gently prod at your entrance, before he slowly slipped inside. You looked down to find him gazing at you intently, trying to gage your reaction. You gave a small nod of encouragement before leaning back into the pillow. Hoseok’s finger grazed your walls just the right way and you began to feel the start of a knot forming in your lower belly.

When he deemed you ready, he slipped in a second finger to join the first and this time the stretch was a bit more painful. Once you adjusted, pleasure sang through your body and the knot began to tighten.

“Hoseok,” you eked out, “I think I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah, baby? Well then go ahead, let it go.”

It took only a couple more well aimed thrusts of his fingers, before your core tightened around him and white hot euphoria blinded you. If you were anymore coherent, you might have been worried about his neighbors hearing your scream, but your mind is instead a foggy mess and the only thing you could think about is how much you want him inside your pussy.

After you recovered, you dragged Hoseok up to meet his lips with your own, while your hands traveled down to his belt, quickly undoing the buckle. You reached your hand into his boxers to give him a few encouraging strokes, to find him nearly fully hard. He eagerly pushed down his tight jeans and taking his underwear off with them.

“Are you one hundred percent sure about this?”

“A thousand.”

With that, he reached up to grab a condom from his bedside drawer and quickly rolled it on. You felt him line up with you and you began to feel a little nervous. Would it hurt? How much and for how long? Hoseok catched your apprehension, and reached up to gently caress your cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay love. I’ll go slow and if it hurts just let me know. It’s all about communication.”

You nodded, your nerves calmed a little. True to his word, he pushed in slowly. The stretch was indeed painful and you winced slightly at the sting. Hoseok’s hand never left your cheek, wiping away the couple tears that fell. Once he was fully seated inside you, he stopped.

“Let me know when I can move. Take all the time in the world.”

“Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you and you stay like that for a few minutes: his lips on yours, his cock connecting you in the most intimate way possible. There was a magical feeling to it, like all the stars in the heavens had aligned in just the right way. Everything felt perfect and you never wanted to leave his bed ever again.

Eventually, the painful stretch turned into a dull burn and you gave him the go ahead to move. He started slowly, thrusts steady and strong. You let out little moans as the rest of the ache fades into a delicious pleasure. The feeling seems to be catching up to Hoseok too, because he began to lose his rhythm, releasing little groans along the way.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good. I never wanna leave your pussy, baby.”

“Hoseok, shit, keep going. Faster, baby, faster.”

He heeded your demand and his thrusts speed up, leaving you a mess underneath him. All you could do was moan, nails digging into his back. Your feet locked around his waist in an a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you. Your cries were getting louder and his grunts had turned into moans. The knot once again began to form in your abdomen.

“Fuck, Hoseok, I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Me too, princess, me too. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Neither of you noticed the fire beginning to burn, too caught up in your embrace. It started in your hands and moved up your arms and to your chest. The heat from the flames only fueled your pleasure, your sea of euphoria drawing back to form the tsunami that is your approaching orgasm. Hoseok’s thrusts began to stutter, balls tightening, moans reaching their peak crescendo.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Come with me, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…”

With that your both reach your peak, your pussy clamped down on him while he filled the condom. The flames intensified, as if your climax was their own personal brand of fuel. The euphoria that washed through both of your minds is so intense that you can’t even remember your own names. As the waves begin to calm, all you can think of is Hoseok before your mind faded to black.

You blink awake only to be greeted with harsh white light. You couldn’t remember much, other than passing out after having the best orgasm of your life. You quickly come to the realization that you are no longer in Hoseok’s bed or even his apartment. Instead, you are sitting in a plush chair, that is not entirely unlike a throne. The floral sundress you were wearing at the beach is replaced with what you can only describe as the most luxurious sheet you have ever felt forming a makeshift toga of sorts.

What the hell? you think.

As your eyes finally adjust more fully to light, you find that Hoseok is sitting next you in a chair and donning a toga similar to your own. The chairs are placed at a grand marble table which is in the center of grand marble room. The roof seems to be made of glass and behind it, the source of the blinding light shines through. Across from you sits a being, who seems not to ascribe to gender but rather transcends it to become (objectively) the most beautiful human being you have ever seen.

Hobi is the first to speak, as you are too lost to form words.

“Where the fuck are we?”

The being across from you chuckles at his question, mouth opening to show glowing white teeth.

“Ah, such harsh words. I forget how crass the human mind is. You are in what I like to call a transitional space.”

“A what?”

This time it is you who asks the question.

“A transitional space.”

“Transition between what?”

Despite your question, you’re beginning to feel a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Between this life and the next. This room exists only for us to talk and once you leave, it will never exist again.”

“Wait, go back. What were you saying about our lives?”

Judging by the look on his face, Hoseok is slowly coming to the same conclusion that you have.

“You, my loves, are dead. During the final moments of your consummation of your love, the fire that burned quietly in your soul for the duration of your life finally consumed you and left you as nothing but ashes on white sheets.”

And there it was. You were dead. You had no idea why and you had no idea who this person or thing was, but something told you that this was part of something much bigger than you would’ve ever imagined.

“And who are you?”

Hoseok looks surprisingly resigned. During the course of your relationship, you had noticed that Hoseok didn’t take well to drastic change, yet here in this room, facing the most drastic change of all, he didn’t even bother to frown.

“I am Fatum, better know to you English speakers as Fate. And you are my children.”

Both of your eyes go wide. Fate looks calmly back at you and you become faintly aware that their irises slowly change color like the colorful LED lights on Hoseok’s car stereo.

“You and your deaths are part of a saga that has been drawn out over many eons. Once long ago, I had a lover, Ordo. They were my single purpose in life, the focus of all my energy. But sadly, good things rarely last forever in this universe, and they ended up betraying me. I had no choice but to destroy them. Instead of getting rid of them completely, I took their soul, combined it with a part of mine and split it in two. Those two new souls are you.

“You became my pride and joy and slowly the pain I felt about Ordo’s loss was replaced with my abundance of love for you. In fact, I became so attached to you that I made it impossible for your souls to ever be destroyed, even by me. But then you grew older. You became wary of me and began to act out. In the end, you followed in Ordo’s footsteps betraying me and my work for the good of the universe.

“This time, however, I could not destroy you like I had with Ordo. My blind adoration for you prevented that and so I cursed you instead. For the past several eons, you have been cast onto Earth in the form of humans. Since you are technically the same soul split into two bodies, separation for long periods of time is quite emotionally draining. Lucky for you, I cursed you so that you would eventually find each other and in the presence of your other half, find the most euphoric happiness ever known.”

“Excuse me if I don’t understand how that would be considered a curse?”

Fatum turns to face you and you shiver as his eyes seem to bore through your soul, the very one he supposedly created.

“Well, you see my love, your happiness has a...let’s call it an expiration date. Humans, the silly things, always seem to succumb to intercourse when they discover who they believe to be the love of their lives. You two are certainly no exception. Your curse comes in the form of death during the...uh...climax of your first time together. You then come back here to meet me, where I have explained this story to you a thousand times over.”

“And then what?”

“And then, Hoseok, I send you back to Earth to reborn yet again as another human only to live out the same fate.”

Fatum chuckles at their own joke.

“What about the fire?”

“The fire, my dear, is the only part of your former form that you retain. Before taking the form of an infinite number of humans, you were what you people call phoenixes. Your fire resides in your soul, which you know I cannot touch. In fact, that is where I got the inspiration for your curse. You know, the whole bursting into flames before being reborn schtick.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know. What now?”

Hoseok seemed to be getting impatient with Fatum’s long story. He wasn’t good at sitting still for long periods of time and you had been sitting here for, well, you didn’t exactly know, time was somewhat elusive in this interdimensional space, but it seemed like very long.

“You get reborn obviously.”

The smile Fatum offered looked like an attempt offer a kind reprieve to the crazy story that had been forced down your throat, but it came off as chilling and a shiver was sent down your spine as a result. And then the world faded to black once more.

The fall air was chilly and you were forever grateful for warmed air of the local cafe. It was mid-October and the weather had just begun to cool off from the intense heat leftover from summer, but the mornings were just nippy enough to make you reach for an extra jacket and scarf.

Despite being seven-thirty on a Saturday morning, there was still a bit of line, and you distracted yourself by looking around the quiet cafe you had come to love. Now in your second year of college, you found that the atmosphere provided the peace you needed to study, unlike the library near your dorm. Despite strict rules to keep the noise down, there was always someone breaking them.

You finally made it to the front of the line, only to be greeted by an unfamiliar face. You frequented the place enough to know all the staff, yet before you stood a boyishly, handsome man with the brightest smile you had ever scene. Something about him struck you as familiar, but you brushed off the feeling, dismissing it as your intuition going crazy from lack of sleep.

“Hi,” he greeted you, “I’m Hoseok, what can I get for ya?”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. Please feel free to leave feedback. My inbox is always open to anyone. If you would like to help me determine where I head from here in terms of writing, here's a link to a survey. Thanks for reading.

#bts #hoseok #smut #angst #fanfic #oneshot #jhope #jung hoseok #hobi

55 notes · View notes

theeeveetamer · 6 years ago

Note

Helloo! Hm, if you don't mind, I have a request for some more of the modern omegaverse? Particularly how Leo and Takumi met, or the scene with good ol protective Ryoma :)

Alright here we go. I know nothing about this is specific to high school, but in my modern Omegaverse I always envisioned Leo and Takumi being high school sweethearts.

I had a lot of fun writing this, so it ended up being really damn long. Like, almost 40 pages. Couple of notes: I know Mikoto isn’t their canon mother but since she has an established relationship with all of the Hoshidan sibs I think she’s easier to write and makes more sense in Omegaverse. I based this on my high school’s class scheduling, which was four classes a semester, 90 minutes per class. We called them blocks but most places have ‘periods’ so they’re referred to as such for simplicity sake. Finally, I’ve arbitrarily decided that America’s drinking age is 18 in this fic because it should be.

Tags: Omegaverse, High School AU, Omega!Takumi, Alpha!Leo, falling in love, Lower Middle Class Leokumis, Mentions of child abuse/alcoholism

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282396

“Alright are we ready?”

“Yep! On three!”

Takumi slid his finger under the lip of the envelope, and his friends followed suit.

“One… Two… Three!”

They all tore the glue seal, some more elegantly than others. Hinata got impatient half way through and just ripped the envelope down the middle. Oboro’s wasn’t much better, but at least she’d managed to tear it lengthwise like she was supposed to.

They all pulled out their class schedules at the same time and compared.

“Alright I have geometry first thing… Ugh.” He groaned. He liked math as much as the next guy, but that early in the morning?

“Damn, I have it third.” Oboro pointed out. “But we have the same teacher, so we can at least do the homework together.”

“Wait, I thought we were taking that next semester!”

They tried to schedule their class preferences so that they matched up, but that still didn’t guarantee they would get classes together. Hinata always mixed up at least one class and took it in the wrong semester.

“No, Hinata. We were going to take art next semester, remember?”

“Well shit.” He laughed. “You guys’ll still help me, right?”

Takumi rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“C’mon Takumi, what do you have next?”

It didn’t take them long to hash out the schedules. He was on his own first period, but he and Oboro had gym together fourth period. He and Hinata shared American History during third period, which also meant they had lunch together. They were all taking different language courses anyways, so he knew he’d have at least one class by himself.

With that settled he was scanning his schedule again just to ensure they shared the same teachers.

“Fuck…” He muttered under his breath.

“What is it?”

“I just realized that we have Izana for history.”

“So?”

Hinata was the oldest in his family and Oboro was an only child, so they didn’t have the ‘benefit’ of having older siblings go before them. Sometimes it was nice because he knew which teachers were good, and sometimes it was awful. If he had a quarter for every time a teacher said ‘Oh, Shirasagi? Are you Ryoma’s little brother? Well he was a joy to have in class!’ he’d be loaded.

“Ryoma and Hinoka both had him! They say he likes to play matchmaker with the Omegas in the class. Plus, he assigns a lot of group projects.”

“Ugh, great! You’ll be my partner right?”

“Obviously, dude.” Even though working with Hinata usually resulted in both of them getting distracted and goofing off until last minute, he wouldn’t have it any other way. As long as he got his A he didn’t really care how the project got done.

Though, he was concerned about a little more than just the group projects. There were definitely more Alphas in their school than Omegas, and ever since he’d presented he’d been dealing with dumb ‘matchmaking’ teachers. Heck, they were doing it before he’d even presented! And pretty much every time it happened the Alpha fell head over heels for him, and he absolutely did not reciprocate.

He couldn’t even count the number of calls Mama needed to make to the school about it on both hands. And whatever number that was, he’d probably have to double it to even get close to the number of overstepping Alphas Ryoma beat the shit out of on his behalf. In fact, most Alphas were beginning to treat being seated next to him as a death sentence, which wasn’t exactly doing wonders for his romantic life. The only Alphas in their grade willing to go within fifteen feet of him were Hinata and Oboro.

He tugged anxiously at his collar. Oboro seemed to notice because she finally changed the subject.

“Well, we only have a few weeks left of summer! Let’s not waste it thinking about school!”

“Damn straight!” Hinata agreed.

“Come on, Mama said dinner would be done around six. And hey, she bought a ton of popcorn for movie night!”

_________________

The first day back was always the worst. Farewell to staying up until four am and waking up at noon, hello dragging his ass out of bed at seven am. At least Ryoma was a senior this year, so Mama let him take the car to school. Hinoka took shotgun and he sat in the back with Sakura. She was fiddling with the strap of her messenger bag and biting her lip nervously.

“You look cute today, baby sister.” She really did. He could tell she’d woken up early to do her hair and makeup, and she’d picked out one of her favorite dresses. It was a far cry from his ratty old jeans and tshirt or Hinoka’s athletic shorts and tank top. He hadn’t even bothered to comb his hair out when he woke up, he’d just thrown it in it’s regular ponytail. He almost envied his sisters’ shorter hair.

“T-Thanks! I’m just so n-nervous, you know?”

“You’ll see! High school isn’t so scary!” Hinoka threw over her shoulder from the passenger seat. “Heck, you’ll be sick of it before long!”

“Come on Hinoka. Let her have one day before you make her jaded.” Ryoma chuckled.

“You’ll do great.” He patted her hand. “Let me know if you get lost okay? I can help you walk to class.”

“A-Alright.”

______________

The day went pretty quickly. It was the first day, so most of the teachers were just going over their syllabi and doing some dumb icebreakers so the class could get to know each other. It was mind numbing, but at least he could doodle in his notebooks and just pretend to be paying attention.

He’d been silently dreading third period all day, and all was well until then. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. It would be nice to sit next to Hinata, but if Izana really was a matchmaker then that could make things awkward. Then again, he’d rather things be a little awkward with his best friend than get harassed by some Alpha that needed to learn the definition of ‘boundaries’.

Hinata was already inside the classroom. He waved at Takumi from around the middle of the classroom and motioned to the empty seat beside him. The desks were laid out very strangely: Each row had six desks, and three columns consisting of two desks pushed together.

“No alphabetical order?”

Hinata shrugged. “He just told us to sit wherever.”

The man in question was currently behind his computer at the front of the room. The bell rang, but he still seemed intent on whatever he was working on. A few minutes of idle chatting later he stood up and stepped to the center of the room.

“Good afternoon everyone. I’ve created a randomized seating chart for you all. Please come sit in your new seat when I call your name.”

They were about ten desks in when the pattern became obvious. Of course every Omega just so happened to be paired with an alpha, despite the sizable portion of Betas in the class. Randomized. Sure.

“… Shirasagi, Takumi!” He squinted his eyes at the paper for a moment. “Weird, I think I had your brother. Or was it a sister?”

“It was both…” He mumbled dejectedly as he took his seat.

“Alright then let’s see… Windmire, Leo!”

Oh gods. Anyone but him.

Their brothers had been feuding since Ryoma’s freshman year, he couldn’t even remember what about. Something about a failed science project that both of them insisted wasn’t their fault. After that it was pretty much silently agreed upon that the Shirasagis would avoid the Windmires, and they would do the same. He’d never personally met Leo, but he’d heard stories. Mainly about how he was a stuck up pretty boy.

And yeah, just looking at him walk across the room he’d believe those rumors. He had a way about him that was hard to miss. He never slouched or shuffled; He strode along like he was above it all. And he was tall. At least six foot or so. Which, Takumi supposed wasn’t all that impressive for Alphas in general, but at fifteen or sixteen most of them were still growing and stood at around five foot eight to five foot ten. That meant he was constantly looking down his nose at everyone else. It was a little intimidating, at five foot six he’d pretty much stopped growing, and he was considered tall for an Omega. Sakura was only five foot two.

The blonde dropped his newly acquired textbook and notebooks down on the desk next to him. They didn’t say a word to each other as Izana finished assigning seats. It seemed like his siblings hadn’t exaggerated: Every Omega in the class was paired off with an Alpha. When that was done he handed out the syllabi and moved back to the front of the class to go over it.

“In this class I believe in learning the value of teamwork! So, you’ll have four group projects. Three due throughout the semester and one final project. Your project partners will be the person you’re sitting next to. No exceptions. These are big projects and will require outside work, so be sure to get your partner’s contact information.”

He heard the Alpha beside him audibly groan. He was, quite frankly, a little offended. Sure he and Hinata goofed off, but he was still a straight A student damn it! Where did this asshole get off?

They suffered silently through the remaining eighty minutes of class until lunch. When the bell rang he reluctantly turned to his seatmate.

“So…” He was loathe to do it, but unfortunately he had to. “We should probably exchange numbers.”

The Alpha rolled his eyes as he pulled out his phone.

“I’m sorry, do you have a problem with me?”

“Just don’t tank my grade. It’s bad enough that I have to associate with a Shirasagi, but an Omega?”

Ah, there it was. The old stereotype that an Omega couldn’t be smart, too. Boy, was this asshole in for a rude awakening.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either.” He growled as he typed his number in. “But I’m not about to get a B just because I’m stuck with you as a partner.”

With the exchange done he collected up his backpack and met up with Hinata, who was waiting by the door for him.

________

“Ugh, can you believe that guy!” He groused, shoving his sandwich into his mouth. Hinata was similarly scarfing down his food, but they were sitting on their own because Oboro had a different lunch.

Between complaining he was also scanning the room for Sakura. She’d texted him that they had the same lunch and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t sitting on her own. He finally caught sight of her – she was kind of hard to miss with the pink hair – sitting a few tables away with her friend Hana and some blonde girl he’d never met. Reasonably assured she was in good hands, he continued his complaining about Leo.

“I mean, the nerve of the guy! Implying that I can’t do work just because I’m an Omega!”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it either.” Hinata added through a mouthful of chips. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I would have failed algebra if it wasn’t for you.”

“Exactly! I mean–” He realized quickly that he probably shouldn’t be insulting his friend’s intelligence just to prove a point. “Sorry, Hinata.”

His friend just waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s talk about something else.”

He tried to keep his attention off of the blonde Alpha, but he kept catching him out of the corner of his eye and getting infuriated all over again.

__________

The rest of the day was, thankfully, pretty uneventful. He’d almost forgotten all about Leo and his prissy attitude until he got home and he and Sakura were helping Mama with dinner. He and Sakura were chopping up vegetables while she prepared the meats. Hinoka was still at baseball practice and Ryoma was in his room working on his college essays.

“So how was school?”

“Great!” Sakura started excitedly chattering. “Hana and I have a lot of classes together s-so that was good! And I met a r-really nice girl named Elise in first period!”

“That’s great, sweetie! What about you Takumi, did you have fun? Make any new friends?”

He shrugged. “Not really. But there was this one guy in my history class…”

“Oh? You met a boy?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Mama! It’s not like that! He’s… He’s completely insufferable!” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Mister Izana paired us up for every class project, and this dumb Alpha thinks I’m stupid just because I’m an Omega!”

“Oh dear… Well I’m sure it won’t be so bad. Once he gets to know you I’m sure he’ll warm up.”

“I dunno, he’s a Windmire. They’re, like, predisposed to hate us or something!”

“I’m sure he can’t be that bad. You know what I always say, never judge a book by its cover!”

“Yes, Mama.” He rolled his eyes. Of course she didn’t get it. She hadn’t even met Leo, she had no idea how rude he’d been!

He finished up slicing the vegetables and Mama shooed them both out of the kitchen so she could finish cooking. He didn’t have much to do since there wasn’t any homework, so he decided to bum around on his laptop until dinner.

He hadn’t really intended to start cyberstalking Leo, it had just kind of happened. It started when he tried looking up the Alpha’s social media, but the guy was a ghost. None of the Windmires seemed to have any online presence, and the only pictures he found were from what he was guessing were Leo’s friends. He’d just wanted to get a general idea of the guy, but after an hour of coming up blank finding anything became an obsession. How could he not have anything online? It was just so weird!

He finally stopped when Mama called them all down to dinner, and he realized how ridiculous he was being. So what if he couldn’t find any information? Why should he care about this asshole anyways? He shut the laptop and hurried to the dining room.

____________

The first month or so went by without too many problems. He and Leo mostly just ignored each other during class, and once it was over he made a quick escape to lunch with Hinata. They didn’t get the details about their first project until late September. It wasn’t much, just a paper. It was about three pages and due in two weeks, so he wasn’t too worried about it just yet.

He stuck the project requirements into his folder and headed down to lunch. The second he left the room his phone buzzed in his pocket.

We should get started on this project today.

He glanced over his shoulder. Leo was literally standing ten feet away from him. Was he for real?

He pulled his phone back out to respond.

Dude, you’re literally standing right there. You couldn’t talk to me?

He watched as the blonde’s phone buzzed and he typed his response. This was ridiculous, was he really so conceited that he couldn’t even talk to him?

Look who’s talking.

“Ugh!” He stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “Come on Hinata, let’s go.”

All of lunch was a back and forth.

The project isn’t even due until two weeks from now.

I’m not going to fail this class because you wanted to wait until last minute.

Fine! We can start working on it tonight then! Your house or mine?

Better do yours.

Alright, meet me by the exit after school. My brother will drive us.

Gods, what an arrogant asshole! As if waiting a week would kill them! If he were working alone he could get it done in two days! Not to mention the fact that he wanted to start working on it on a Friday night! Sure, Takumi had just planned to stay in and watch movies, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have had plans!

Sakura was already waiting by the door, along with her blonde friend. She waved at him as he approached. “B-Big brother! This is my friend, Elise.”

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you.” Now that he was closer he could see that she was an Omega as well. The heat suppressants could make it hard to tell sometimes, but only Omegas wore collars like that. Hers was made of dyed black leather and it was studded with little purple rhinestones to match her black and purple dress.

“Ta-ku-mi,” She enunciated every syllable in his name carefully. “Did I say it right?”

“Y-Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you too, Takumi!” She beamed up at him. Geez when Sakura said Elise was friendly she wasn’t kidding. They hadn’t known each other five minutes and she was already chattering away like they’d been friends for decades.

Leo turned up a few minutes later. Takumi caught sight of him down the hall, and he seemed confused as he approached.

“Elise? What are you doing here?”

Did they know each other?

“Aw, Leo! Did you make friends too?”

The Alpha side-eyed him and then shook his head. “Absolutely not. We’re just working on a project together. What are you doing?”

“Xander said I could stay over at Sakura’s tonight! We’re gonna get together with Hana and Effie to do girl stuff!”

“Did you ask father too?”

She pouted. “You know how he is.”

“… Alright, but you need to finish your homework beforehand.”

“Yeah, yeah. Camilla already gave me the lecture. Sakura and I are gonna get it all done before dinner.”

So, Elise was Leo’s little sister? He hadn’t really considered the possibility that Sakura’s new friend was a Windmire, but he supposed it made sense. He’d forgotten about the youngest sibling since she was the grade below him and they’d never had classes together or anything.

It was almost cute watching them; It reminded him a lot of his relationship with Sakura. That didn’t mean Leo wasn’t still a complete asshole, but he supposed even assholes had their moments.

Ryoma finally came down the hall, backpack slung over one shoulder and spinning his keys around his finger.

“Who are your friends?”

“We aren’t friends.” He and Leo said it in unison. Ryoma raised and eyebrow, and Sakura giggled.

“W-We’re just working on a project.” He finished lamely.

His brother shrugged his shoulders, but he was glaring daggers at Leo already. It wasn’t angry, more like don’t you dare fuck with my little brother, asshole. Leo shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Alright, well let’s get home.”

He’d never really felt self-conscious about his house before. It wasn’t the biggest, and it certainly wasn’t the nicest. He’d known Hinata and Oboro for so long that none of it mattered because… Well it never had before. He didn’t know much about Leo, but this stuck up pretty boy was probably used to nicer stuff.

Mama couldn’t work because she didn’t have an Alpha to sign off on it. Papa made pretty good money, but after he died they had to cut back and make do on the insurance money. They only owned one car since Mama only left to do errands, and she could do those once they got home from school.

Their house was a standard split-level with three bedrooms and a basement. He and Sakura actually shared a room, and Ryoma and Hinoka did the same. Mama took the smallest room and his older siblings had the master bedroom. The basement was a general family room, with a nice but old flat screen TV, an old Nintendo that he’d found for twenty bucks at a neighbor’s garage sale, and a big sectional couch. The upstairs had a much smaller TV and couch that Mama mainly used to watch the news. Or to stop arguments when everyone wanted to watch something at the same time.

The nicest piece of furniture they owned was probably their dining table. Mama had been saving up for a new one for years because the old one was too small for a family of five, and she liked it when they all ate together. Plus, one or more of their friends usually came over for dinner more often than not and she liked entertaining company. It made the small space a little cramped but Mama always made sure it was clean and overall it was pretty cozy.

They all kicked their shoes off, and Takumi tried not to look at their guests faces when they stepped inside. He wasn’t sure if he could stop himself from punching Leo in the face if he got condescending about it.

“Come on. We can work on our project in my room. Sakura, are you and Elise okay in the living room?”

“Y-Yeah no problem!”

It would be a little too cramped in their small space with four people in there. Usually when they did homework they all set up on the dining room table and did it together. But he didn’t want to disturb Ryoma and Sakura since he and Leo would probably be pretty distracting with their talking.

Mama greeted them at the top of the stairs.

“Perfect timing. Ryoma dear can you give me the keys? I need to go grocery shopping.”

“They’re in the key bowl by the door.”

“Great!” She looked over their two guests. “Are you two going to be staying for dinner?”

“Oh, right! Mama this is Leo, and that’s Sakura’s friend Elise.”

“Nice to meet you Missus Shirasagi.” Leo extended a hand for her to shake.

“Please, you can just call me Mikoto.”

“I don’t know how long Leo and I will be working on our project, but Elise will definitely be here for dinner.”

“Alright I’ll buy a little extra then!” That went without saying, though. Mama always bought extra for guests. She grabbed the keys and headed out, and Takumi led Leo down the hall to his room.

“Takumi!” Ryoma called out to him from the living room.

“What?”

“Leave the door open!”

“Ryoma!” He could feel his face heating up. Gods, like he would ever do anything with this guy!

He left the door open anyways, mostly because it was better than having Ryoma randomly barge in and “need something” like he always did if Takumi shut the door.

There wasn’t a whole lot of room to spread out. Most of the space was taken up by two twin beds. Their room was about ten feet wide, and there was about four feet of open space between the beds. They each had their own nightstand, and there was a dresser shoved in the closet. It was a pretty wide closet, but they had to share. Three of the four dresser drawers belonged to him, but two thirds of the closet belonged to Sakura because she owned so many dresses.

All in all, it was pretty obvious what belonged to whom in the room. Sakura had a lot of decor of her namesake: Her lampshade and bedspread both featured cherry blossom patterns, and she had a variety of little bobbles including a little glass cherry blossom tree that Mama made for her by hand. She also had a few canvasses hanging from the walls with several different designs, one of which featured cherry blossoms once again. Most of it wasn’t her choice, it was just what people bought her for birthdays and Christmas. It was a good thing she liked pink.

His side was a little plainer decor-wise. In addition to his bed and nightstand he also had a bookshelf that was overflowing with books on history and philosophy. There were so many that he’d begun stacking them on top of the shelf as well. On top of those books an old Shogi board was perched, just in case any of his siblings ever wanted to play with him again. They had a few other board games on the top shelf of the closet. Sometimes they had game nights on the weekend, but for the most part they went untouched. His bow and a quiverfull of arrows were currently leaning in the space between the nightstands. He didn’t really have anywhere else for it, since his kendo equipment was underneath the bed and there was no more room in the closet.

“Sorry it’s not very big.” He dropped his backpack on his bed and pulled out his laptop. Mama bought them all the same cheap little chromebook one year for Christmas when they were on sale. It wasn’t the best, but it got the job done.

Leo just shrugged and followed suit. His laptop was bigger, but it also looked pretty old. He brought out the charger as well.

“Got an outlet somewhere? The battery on this damn thing is burnt out.”

Once they were finally set up on the floor he pulled the assignment sheet back out of his folder.

“Alright, looks like we have to discuss the fallout after the civil war. Three pages, double spaced, yadda yadda. And a presentation to the class.”

“You haven’t even read the assignment yet?”

“When was I supposed to read it? Izana gave it to us at the end of class, and I wasn’t going to read it over during gym class!”

“Gods I’m going to fail.” The Alpha muttered under his breath.

“Hey!” Takumi growled. “Would you stop treating me like I’m some ditz! I’m trying to get an A too, you know! So just start the damn powerpoint and I’ll start the paper.”

He flipped his textbook open to the relevant chapter and started scanning for information.

The Alpha sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just used to my partners slacking.”

Well of all the things he’d been expecting, he certainly hadn’t seen an apology coming.

“I-It’s fine. Let’s just get this done so I can actually enjoy this weekend.”

They worked for a solid hour, only talking to ensure that their points matched up. He was probably a third of the way done with the rough draft of their paper, and Leo was about half done with the powerpoint when they were interrupted by Elise entering the room.

“Leeeeooo!” She called from the door.

“What is it, Elise?”

“Can you help me with math?”

“Have you done all of the problems you can solve?”

“Yep! And Sakura helped me with some, but there are a couple we can’t get.”

“And you finished your other subjects?”

“Uh huh! We did those first.”

“Alright, I’ll come help you in a few minutes.”

“Okay!” She skipped back down the hall and sat down with Sakura at the dining room table.

Leo shut his laptop and shoved his books back into his backpack.

“I thought you wanted to get this project done?”

The blonde rolled his eyes. He was just now noticing, but had they always been that color? Or was the dim light in his room playing tricks on his eyes? He hadn’t really been paying attention, but he swore he would have remembered such vivid red eyes.

“This is exactly why I start projects when they’re assigned. We don’t have to do it all today.”

He left all of his things on the floor of Takumi’s room and headed back out into the main living area.

Takumi had managed to get all of his homework done in class today. He was pretty bored in geometry, so he usually did the homework as he was taking notes. Plus with ninety minute classes their teacher usually gave them half of that time for homework. His language class usually made it a point not to assign any homework, and their history class assigned the project in lieu of any real homework. So he decided to take his laptop into the living room and start picking out a movie for tonight. Ryoma had disappeared to somewhere, probably over to Saizo’s house to hang out.

He was actually currently stealing his good friend’s netflix, and with October on the horizon most of the queue was horror movies. It was just easier to stay logged in since they usually hung out at his house. Hinata didn’t usually mind, as long as he didn’t hog it or remove things from his list.

Elise and Sakura really only had two math problems they couldn’t get on their own, and once Leo walked them through the first one they didn’t even need help on the second. He got the sense that this was something Leo did a lot, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed by it. Maybe he wasn’t as stuck up as everyone seemed to imply.

“So,” The Alpha finally spoke directly to him. He’d been so focused on his computer that it startled him. “You like horror movies?”

He shuddered at the thought. Horror movies always made his nightmares so much worse. “No, actually. This is my friend’s account. I take it you do?”

“Mhmm. That’s too bad, I know a few good ones you might enjoy.”

“… Nothing too scary?”

“I suppose that depends on your definition of scary.”

“Hmm… Well I don’t do paranormal. Hard no on anything paranormal. I also don’t really like monsters or ghouls or anything like that.”

“Home invasion?”

“Yeah I think I could do that.” If he were being honest he would have said not in a million years, but he also didn’t want to seem like a complete wuss.

He grinned. “I have the perfect movie. Do you want to watch it on my laptop?”

“W-What? You mean, right now?”

He shrugged. “I’m here, and obviously we’ve both already checked out of this project for today. Besides, I don’t want to leave in case Elise needs me for something else.”

Just then he was saved by the bell – or rather, his mother.

“Takumi! Come help me get the groceries in!”

He hopped up and ran to the car, thankful to get out of that conversation. Maybe he wouldn’t have to watch a horror movie after all.

“Would you like some help with those?” Leo asked, indicating the bags she was carrying. She handed them off to him gratefully and he finished getting them into the kitchen. Then Leo helped him bring in the few bags from the car, and they were done in one trip. He tried to help put things away, but Mama shooed him back out into the living room.

Leo was standing by, waiting for him to get done.

“So, how about it?”

“I don’t know if we have time for a movie. Mama when is dinner?”

“Oh don’t worry about it sweetie. There’s plenty of time for a movie.”

Fuck. Looks like he was doing this.

“Alright, sure. Sakura will probably want the basement so she can get ready for her sleepover, so we can watch it in my room.”

With Ryoma out he could finally shut his door. It wasn’t that he wanted to do anything, he just liked having the privacy. Leo set his laptop up on the bed.

“Turn off the lights.”

“W-What?”

“Come on, it’s a horror movie. You have to set the mood!”

He flicked the lights off and sat down. He tried to keep a respectable distance, but it was hard when they were watching on a laptop. They had three or four inches between their shoulders at best.

It was a little weird, if he was being honest. He’d never had an Alpha on his bed unless it was Hinata or Oboro. He hadn’t realized how weirdly intimate it was until he was sitting with the blonde. His heart was racing, though that was probably just from the movie. Though, by the end of it he was actually clinging to Leo’s arm and hiding his face in the sleeve of the blonde’s hoodie.

They were nearing the end of the movie. By now there had been a few tense moments of this woman trying to escape her would-be killer, and a few jump scares to set his nerves on edge. She was trying to crawl back in her window while the killer chased her, and he had to stop himself from shouting go, go, go, go!

The door to his room slammed open and he screamed. Not a yelp or a cry of surprise, he actually yelled out in terror and hid his face behind the Alpha’s shoulder.

“Takumi?” It was just Ryoma. Apparently he hadn’t been as gone as Takumi thought him.

“Gods, Ryoma! You scared the shit out of me!”

“My apologies. I just wanted to know if you needed anything.”

“Yeah! A new damn pair of underwear! Geez Ryoma, can’t I have the door closed for five minutes without you barging in!”

His brother put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Finish your movie, mother said that dinner will be ready soon.

As soon as he backed out Leo chuckled. “I didn’t think you would be that scared by this movie!”

“I-I wasn’t scared! He just surprised me is all!” He scooted away from Leo and drew his knees up to his chest.

“Of course, obviously.” Leo nodded. “Alright pay attention. We’re almost at the end.”

They very end of the movie was more action packed and didn’t have as many jump scares, so it was a little easier to get through. She managed to fight off her attacker and call the police in the end. And hey, the cat didn’t even die. When the credits started rolling Leo shut his laptop.

“So, what did you think?”

“The entire plot of this movie could have been avoided if this woman just owned a landline.”

“That’s… Exactly what I always say.”

There was an awkward lull in the conversation. After a moment he finally responded again.

“W-We should get to the dining room. Mama is probably waiting for us.”

He reached for the light, but in the dark he didn’t see the stack of books hanging a few inches over the edge of his bookshelf. He accidentally bumped them and brought the entire pile down.

“Shit!” He muttered. He managed to flick the light on. Only five or six books ended up on the ground, and he quickly picked them up and re-stacked them on the shelf.

“The Stranger?” Leo picked the top paperback off the stack and flipped it over.

“Well aren’t you nosy!” He shot back, defensively. Most people that saw his book collection automatically labelled him a huge nerd, including his older siblings.

“I’ve been trying my hardest not to snoop, but it’s kind of hard not to notice when you’re a complete klutz and knock over piles of books. Besides, it’s one of my favorites, I couldn’t help bringing it up.”

“I actually haven’t finished it yet.” He admitted. “Nihilism isn’t really my thing, and I can’t stand the main character!”

“Really? I think it leans more absurdist myself. How far did you get?”

“Uh, I think I was about half way through part one.”

“You should try again. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

He took the book from the Alpha and tossed it on his nightstand.

“You know, for a pretty boy you’re kind of a dork.”

He was into philosophy and history? What was next? Would Leo tell him that he’s on the school’s chess team?

“I could say the same of you, Takumi.”

Wait, did Leo just call him pretty? Did he just call Leo pretty? To his face? Oh gods, like he needed another reason to go red as a tomato. He hurried past the Alpha and took his seat at the table with the rest of his family and Elise. There were seven places set at the table. Ryoma was sitting on one end, Mama on the other, and Elise, Sakura, and Hinoka on one side. That left two places on the other for he and Leo to sit. He took his usual seat nearest Mama, but Leo hung back a moment. He checked his watch.

“Actually I think it’s time I headed home.”

He wasn’t about to stop Leo, though he was a little disappointed. He’d just found out that they had so much in common, and he’d been kind of hoping that they could chat more.

“Please stay for dinner at least! Sakura was just telling me about how helpful you’ve been, it’s the least I can do.”

He looked conflicted, but he ultimately sat down.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Mama smiled at him, then leaned over and whispered conspiratorially in his ear.

“Is this the boy you’ve been complaining about? He’s so polite!”

“Mama please!” His face was already red enough from that earlier pretty boy comment.

“So, Leo.” Oh gods. Ryoma was going to do this to him? Tonight? “You’re working on a project with Takumi?”

“That’s right.”

“Uh huh. How’s your GPA?”

“Ryoma…” He muttered under his breath.

“I have a perfect GPA, actually.”

“Good, good… Because, you know, my brother doesn’t waste his time with stupid men.”

“Ryoma!” He growled. Mama patted him on the arm.

“Now come on Ryoma, he’s our guest. There’s no need for this.” Yet. He could hear it in her voice. Gods, had his entire family gone crazy?

The rest of dinner went pretty normally, aside from Ryoma’s incessant what-are-your-intentions-with-my-brother grilling. When it was over he helped Mama clear the table, and Leo excused himself.

“I really must get going.”

“Do you live far? I can drive you home, if you’d like?” Mama called out from the kitchen. She was in the middle of doing the dishes, and Ryoma was helping her dry.

“It’s not far.” He answered quickly. “Really, I’d prefer to walk.”

“Alright. It was nice meeting you!”

Ryoma was just glaring daggers at him over her shoulder. Takumi pushed him toward the stairs and followed him into the entryway.

“Uh, sorry about him.”

Leo just shrugged. “Believe me, I’ve seen worse. Why don’t we get together on Sunday to finish the project?”

“Y-Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“I’ll text you.”

He headed out and Takumi shut the door behind him. It was still pretty warm out, but he hoped Leo didn’t have to walk too far. It was starting to get dark, and it looked like it might rain later that night.

All in all he was no longer absolutely dreading seeing Leo again. Hell, he was a completely different person than he usually was in school! He’d even called Mama ‘ma’am’!

He headed back upstairs to see if any more help was needed. Sakura and Elise had long since retreated into the basement to get things set up, and Hana and Effie would probably be there soon.

“Your friend seemed nice.” Mama was just finishing up the dishes and wiping her hands on a nearby towel.

“I don’t like him.” Ryoma slammed a plate down in the cupboard a little harder than usual.

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to like him, Ryoma. We’re just doing a class project together. Besides, he hates me anyways.”

It was true. Just because he was polite didn’t mean he liked Takumi. He was probably just minding his manners for once.

“Oh I don’t know about that, sweetie. The two of you seemed to get on just fine.” She had this glint in her eye.

“I told you, Mama, it’s not like that.”

“Good.” Ryoma muttered under his breath.

Gods, what a pain! He loved his brother, but he could be too overprotective sometimes. Heck, he still glared daggers at Hinata, and they’d been friends since they were five!

“I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

He spent the rest of the night watching dumb youtube videos to try and shake the horror movie from his mind.

_____________

Saturday went by pretty uneventfully. He and Hinata went to kendo practice in the morning and then they spent the rest of the day bumming around the park while the weather was still warm. Then later that night Oboro came over for their regular movie night.

Hinata hooked his laptop into the TV and started flicking through the movies. He and Oboro were already sitting on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn between them.

“So how did working on your project with Mister Prissy-pants go yesterday?”

“Actually, not terribly. It was, uh, actually kind of fun.”

Both of his friends stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

“Woah, hold the phone. You had fun. With Leo?”

“I mean… Look, he was still kind of a dick but I don’t know. We have a lot in common, and he was actually really sweet with Mama and his sister.”

Hinata whistled. “Well looks like it’s the end of the world everybody. Oboro, do you still have that zombie invasion action plan we wrote up?”

She shoved him. “Who said it was going to be a zombie invasion?”

“Who said it wasn’t?”

He was thankful that they didn’t push the subject, at least. Mama had been giving him that look ever since and Ryoma kept pulling him aside to have the talk. Just the memory of it made him shudder, and he was glad that Hinoka needed him for something before he could really get into it.

“I know you don’t like them, but can we please watch a horror movie? I know of a really good zombie flick now that you mention it!” Hinata urged.

Zombie movies, strangely enough, didn’t really bother him. Maybe because he knew how unlikely a zombie apocalypse was, and most of the movies were pretty bad anyways.

“Fine. But no more until Halloween!”

He started playing the movie and sat down on the couch next to Oboro. They were only about ten minutes in when he got distracted by a text from Leo.

Hey, sorry but I’m not going to be able to meet tomorrow.

What? Why?

Some family stuff came up. Sorry, we can talk about it more on Monday?

Alright, just don’t go tanking my grade with your slacking.

“Hey!” Oboro snapped her fingers. “Eyes on the screen!”

“Sorry, sorry!” He shut his phone off and set it aside.

He was a little disappointed. Maybe Leo got scared off by his family after all? But still, they could have met up at the library or something. He just hoped his overbearing brother wasn’t about to be the reason he failed a class.

______________

After awhile he started wondering what exactly came up to stop Leo from working on their project. Just three days ago he’d been so insistent that they get the project done immediately, but now he was delaying?

Though, it didn’t take him long to figure out what had happened. He walked into third period, and the first thing he noticed was the blonde in the second row. His left eye was swollen and bruised up. Takumi took his seat and set his backpack down.

“Geez, what happened?”

“Oh this? It’s nothing.” He brushed it off. He didn’t seem interested in talking about it, so he dropped it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant.

“… Did you want to get the rest of this project done today? I was thinking we could go to the library after school.”

“Yeah, sure. Sound’s good.”

He couldn’t pay attention for the rest of class. He knew it wasn’t any of his business, but he couldn’t help speculating. What the hell happened? Heck, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Ryoma hunted him down after he left their house. Not that it’d happened, he could think of plenty of people that would want to punch Leo in the face.

______________

They decided to head to the library separately after school. Takumi arrived first. It was a pretty big library, and they’d agreed to meet near the back. There was a section specifically designed for teens to hang around in. There were a few tables, some computers, and a couple of board games, TVs, and even a game console. He didn’t usually come back to this section, but it was the most recognizable one so he’d picked it on a whim.

He was currently sitting at the chess table they had back there. He didn’t really have anything to do until Leo got there, and his phone was running low on battery so he was absentmindedly moving the pieces around.

There wasn’t really anyone else around, so he perked up immediately once Leo came in.

The Alpha nodded at the board. “You play?”

“Oh gods, you are a chess nerd. I knew it.”

Leo shrugged and dropped his backpack on the ground next to his chair. “My father used to play with me when I was a kid.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah, it was… Do you want to play a game?”

“Sure, but I’m not that good. I prefer shogi.”

“Show-gee? Is that like chess?”

“Yeah, a bit.”

As it turned out, Leo was quite good. He won pretty easily, and as much as he wanted to let his competitive spirit out he pushed his chair out and moved to one of the tables.

“You don’t want to play another game?”

“Oh believe me, I’m going to kick your ass in the future. But Mama wants me home for dinner so we should probably work on the project.”

They managed to finish up their project over the next two hours of working. He finished the paper, Leo finished the powerpoint, and then they swapped to proof read. He was pretty happy with the work overall, but he did veto some of Leo’s color choices for the slides.

When they were done he packed up his things, and Leo did the same.

“Would you like me to walk you home?”

He didn’t live too far from the library. It was about half way between their high school and his house. All together it would be about a fifteen minute walk from there to his house, but Mama and Ryoma wouldn’t usually let him walk anywhere by himself. They lived in an okay neighborhood, but they definitely bordered on a bad part of town. Another fifteen minutes of walking past his house and there was nothing but ramshackle ranch houses and trailers. He’d originally planned to call up Ryoma or Hinoka to get a ride, but it was a nice day, and if he had Leo with him…

“Are you sure? I can get a ride?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on my way.”

“Y-Yeah, sure.”

It would be nice to get some time to talk without his family or school projects getting in the way. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was actually starting to like Leo. But hey, how couldn’t he? It was like someone reached into his head, pulled out all of his favorite things, and stuffed them into the body of a tall, pretty Alpha. And those eyes? Gods, those piercing, red eyes. It almost wasn’t fair.

He found out that they had even more in common on the walk home. His favorite food was beef stew, which was kind of like a soup. Though it was second only in his heart to tomatoes. Takumi had brought up the subject accidentally, and Leo had begun rambling on about them.

“… And when you bite into them! Gods it’s divine!”

“Woah, hold up. You eat raw tomatoes?”

“Yes, don’t you?”

“No. Actually, I don’t think anyone does.”

“You’re missing out.”

He scrunched up his nose. “Gross.”

Leo gently nudged him as they walked. “Hey, don’t make fun. Someday I’m going to have a garden full of just tomato plants. Then you’ll see.”

Takumi pushed him back, just a little harder. “Don’t be such a weirdo, then!”

Those fifteen minutes almost went by too fast, and before he knew it they were standing at his front door. He didn’t really want to say goodbye, but Ryoma would probably just embarrass the hell out of him, and if he didn’t come home for dinner Mama would be upset.

“So I’ll uh, see you in class tomorrow?”

“Couldn’t miss it if I wanted to.” He answered dryly. It was one of those jokes that wasn’t really a joke, the kind Takumi couldn’t help laughing at.

Leo waited for him to get inside the house before he left.

“Takumi? I thought you were going to call for a ride? You didn’t walk home alone, did you?”

“No Mama, Leo walked with me.”

“Really, he did?”

He rolled his eyes. “He was just being polite. He said it was on his way anyways.”

“Is it?”

He shrugged. He’d just taken Leo’s word for it but he didn’t check to see if the Alpha had turned back the way they came or not.

“I’m going to finish up the rest of my homework. Do you need anything?”

“No I’m fine dear. Dinner in an hour.”

Ryoma and Sakura had long since finished their homework, but Hinoka was still sitting at the dining room table when he put his backpack down. She’d probably just walked home from practice and taken a shower – Mama always made her take a shower before dinner so she didn’t stink up the place.

He loved Hinoka, but he didn’t really get to spend that much time with her. Once she got to high school most of her free time was spent either at practice or hanging out with her teammates. That, and she and Ryoma were quite close. Pretty much anything he shared with her got passed on to his brother, whether he wanted it to be or not. He supposed it made sense, he was far closer to Sakura and they were far closer to each other, but it made it much harder to relate to her.

“So…” She opened up the conversation. “Leo?”

“Oh gods, not you too!”

“Hey, I’m not judging! I think it’s great that you’re getting along! He’s a good kid.”

“He’s sixteen, he’s not a kid. And how would you know what he’s like?”

She shrugged. “Just the impression I got from him at dinner. And sometimes his sister helps out at bake sales and things for the team. She talks about him a lot.”

He did vaguely recall a busty, purple haired Alpha coming by a few times in the past to see Hinoka. She hadn’t been around long enough for him to register the connection, but now that he thought about it he did hear quite a bit about Camilla. Mostly jealous rumors from the girls in his grade, or the guys bemoaning how she only ever seemed to flirt with other girls.

“Well you don’t have to go running to Ryoma. Like I told him, we’re just doing our class projects together.”

“Alright little brother. I believe you.”

_______________

The due date for their first project came and went. They got an A, obviously, and strangely enough Takumi couldn’t wait for the next one. He and Leo worked well together, and it was nice having a project partner that didn’t distract the hell out of him for once.

In the meantime, they started spending more and more time together. In addition to his Saturday movie nights with Hinata and Oboro, he and Leo had a Friday movie night now too. Sometimes they watched them in his room, sometimes the basement. They’d begun switching off between B horror movies and terrible sci-fi flicks. Sometimes they didn’t watch a movie at all, they just played video games or a board game or just talked.

It was a few days before Thanksgiving, so they’d decided to have their movie night after school on that Tuesday instead. Though they’d never gotten around to picking a movie. His computer was lying a few feet away, HDMI cable plugged in and idling on the Netflix home screen.

He was lying down on one end of the couch, knees bent, and Leo was on the other. Their legs were just barely close enough to touch.

“What do you guys do for Thanksgiving?”

“Nothing really.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Father hates holidays.”

“Your father sounds like a dick.”

The Alpha snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

He’d been wondering for awhile. Leo never talked about his family, or at least he didn’t talk about his dad. Over the past few months he’d been slowly piecing some things together, but the picture was still frustratingly incomplete.

“… Hey Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“You remember that black eye you had a few months ago?”

“What about it?”

“… How did you get it?”

He immediately regretted asking. Leo sat up, and Takumi mirrored him.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Leo just shrugged. “Why bother hiding it? My father isn’t exactly the most even tempered guy. He kind of flipped his lid when Elise came home that Saturday morning. Kept ranting about how she was whoring around with Alphas – I guess he smelled your siblings on her. I tried to stop him from throwing her out.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It is what it is.”

Takumi scooted closer to him. He didn’t really know what to say, so he did what he always did when one of his siblings was upset. He hugged him. The Alpha seemed surprised, but he didn’t pull away.

Leo smelled nice. Like a forest on a sunny, warm day. Like dirt and grass and… honeysuckle? It was a lot to take in at once. And he was so warm and his skin was so soft…

Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and he pushed the Alpha away quickly just before Ryoma could see them. Leo scooted back quickly and he turned to his computer screen so Ryoma wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Are you two doing okay down here?”

“Get out of here, Ryoma! Mama told you not to bug us!”

He was trying to hide his blushing face from his brother, but it was a losing battle. He might have been mistaken, but he thought he saw a small tint to Leo’s cheeks too.

“As long as the two of you are… getting along.” He gave Leo the I hope you aren’t fucking around down here look before he went back upstairs. Gods, he was only fifteen, why did Ryoma not trust him to keep his hormones in check?

“A-Anyways… Do you want to spend Thanksgiving here? I’m sure Mama won’t mind, she always makes too much food.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me just because of my father.”

“It’s not because of that! I would have invited you, anyways. Geez, who doesn’t have a holiday celebration?”

“… I’ll think about it. And thanks for the offer.”

______________

He’d been friends with Hinata and Oboro for a long time. They were both Alphas, but he’d never felt anything special for them. He’d never gotten butterflies in his stomach thinking about them, and he’d never spent hours going through his closet to find the right outfit before he saw them. But here he was, Thanksgiving morning, doing exactly that.

He tried to justify it. Well we’ve never had guests before. At least, no guests that weren’t Hinata, Oboro, or one of his siblings’ friends.

But then wasn’t Leo just one of his friends, too?

Mama was okay with him coming over, just like he knew she would be. Ryoma was less than thrilled, something about how he was “too young to be dating”. Whatever, he’d get over it. He and Leo weren’t even dating. He wasn’t even sure if the Alpha liked him.

He pulled at least five things out of the closet and laid them over the bed. He was staring at them hopelessly when Sakura came into the room. She was already dressed for the day in an oversized orange sweater-dress and some plain black leggings. She even had a pair of matching orange slippers and a matching headband and gods he’d never envied girls for having so many cute clothing options, but he was right now.

“A-Are you trying to look good for Leo?”

“Help.”

He’d never in a million years admit to crushing on someone to his older siblings, but Sakura was different.

“J-Just be yourself! I’m s-sure he likes you just the way you are!”

“Yeah, but I still want to look nice! But I also don’t want to look like I’m trying to look nice, you know?” He’d been wearing sweatpants and plain v-neck t-shirts the last couple of times they’d hung out. He couldn’t help himself, it’d been Friday! That was his comfy day!

“A-Alright, let me see what I can do.” She giggled.

It wasn’t too far off what he’d normally wear, in the end. She pulled out one of his usual black v-necks and a pair of jeans, but she also managed to dig out an old button down that he was pretty sure he’d gotten as a hand-me-down from Ryoma. The sleeves were a little long, so he just rolled them up to the elbows and left the front unbuttoned.

The only accessory he really owned an extensive collection of was hair ribbons. Mama usually bought him the same thing for every birthday or Christmas: A book and a hair ribbon. He loved both, so he wasn’t complaining. Sakura found a plain orange one to match the Thanksgiving theme and he quickly tied his hair up with it.

With that all sorted, they spent most of the rest of the day cooking with Mama while Ryoma and Hinoka cleaned up. They didn’t really do the traditional American thanksgiving, instead Mama tried to cook everyone’s favorite foods. There was almost always miso soup for him, salmon for Ryoma, and pickled vegetables for Hinoka along with rice, duck, a salad, and some stir-fried vegetables. She also made tea, and Sakura’s favorite mochi for dessert.

It was a pretty big task to cook it all, and they always had a ton of leftovers. Mama joked that she was glad they were finally old enough to help her out, since she used to do all of it by herself.

Hinoka popped her head in around four o’clock.

“How many places should we set?”

“Hmm… I think we’ll be having nine?”

“Nine? Who all is coming?”

“Well there’s the five of us, Leo and Elise makes seven… And since they’re coming I told them to just invite their whole family, so Xander and Camilla makes nine.”

He heard Ryoma groan from the living room. “You invited Xander?”

“Well I wasn’t going to invite everyone but Xander! That would be rude, Ryoma!” She yelled back.

He’d considered inviting Oboro and Hinata as well, but Oboro was travelling to visit family this year and Hinata’s parents were inviting over some relatives so he had to be at home. Plus, he’d avoided having Leo meet his friends thus far. Not that he was embarrassed of them or anything, he just wasn’t sure how well they’d all get along.

Everyone arrived around five, and he ran down to get the door before Ryoma could jump at it. Only Camilla, Leo, and Elise were at the door, and the eldest was holding a bottle of something. It was lightly snowing outside, so he ushered them in quickly.

“Thank you so much for inviting us, dear!” She handed over the bottle.

“Yeah, no problem. Make yourselves at home.” He hung their coats up on the nearby coat rack. Camilla and Elise ran upstairs, but Leo hung back with him.

He pulled the bottle out of the bag to get a better look at it.

“Sake? Where did you guys even get this?” As far as he knew, none of them were of age. Well, Xander might be eighteen, but he wasn’t there.

“Father won’t miss one bottle. He doesn’t even like sake, it’s just been sitting around the house.”

He shrugged. Mama sometimes drank sake, and usually she would let them have a taste around the holidays. He just put it on the kitchen counter and started getting down the serving dishes for the food. Camilla wandered in a few minutes later.

“Is there anything at all I can help with?”

He’d never seen an Alpha offer to help with kitchen stuff, but there was a first time for everything. Ryoma and Hinoka would usually help out, but only if directly asked.

“Oh don’t worry about it. You’re a guest! Besides, we’re almost done here. Just go take a seat, dinner will be in a few minutes.”

He caught a few snippets of conversation as he and Sakura carried dishes out to the table. Mainly Hinoka and Camilla discussing what the baseball season would look like come spring. Ryoma occasionally added to the conversation, but overall it was nothing he was too interested in. Elise must have been in the bathroom, and Leo was boredly sitting at the table. It didn’t take long to get everything on the table, so when it was all ready he took his usual seat next to Leo.

“Won’t Xander be joining us?”

“I’m afraid he had to work, actually.” Camilla answered. Mama took the empty plate away and he, Leo, and Hinoka all shifted over a little to make things even. He ended up sitting directly across from Sakura, Leo was in front of Elise, and Hinoka was facing Camilla.

“This all looks wonderful ma’am! I hope you had some help!” Camilla added as they began passing things around the table.

“Yes, Takumi and Sakura are quite the little chefs now!” She laughed. “I remember when they were little they tried to help cook and they nearly burnt the house down! Little Takumi came sprinting down the hall, hair singed to drag me out of bed… And what do I find in the kitchen? Ryoma and Hinoka standing over a smoking pan and Sakura crying in the corner!”

They all laughed about it now, but he remembered that year all too well. That was the year Papa died. He was maybe five? Mama didn’t get out of bed for weeks unless it was to take care of them, and little seven year old Ryoma thought it might help cheer her up if they cooked for her. Of course they were kids so none of them knew how to cook. It got her out of bed, though. It was easy to laugh at in retrospect, but at the time it had probably shocked her back into being alive and a mother.

But it wasn’t really the time for such discussions, so he laughed along.

“Mama kept the knives out of reach and I wanted to make soup. So I just dumped whole vegetables into a pot of water. Didn’t even turn the stove on. I thought her head was going to explode!”

“Kids just do the strangest things, don’t they?” Camilla added. Though, wasn’t she still a kid herself? “When we were little Elise wanted to play princesses, and unfortunately poor Leo was the only one around at the time. Elise dressed them both up in mother’s clothes and used up every last bit of her makeup! By the end they both looked like something straight out of a clown horror movie!”

“Oh? Is that where the love of headbands stems from?” He teased, nudging Leo’s foot under the table. The Alpha scoffed.

“Coming from the guy with a collection of hair ribbons.”

“Hey, don’t knock ‘em. Do you even know how hard it is to use scrunchies when you have all of this hair?”

“Why not just cut it?”

He mock-gasped. “Blasphemy.”

Leo kicked him playfully under the table, and he laughed.

Thankfully, it ended up being a very bearable holiday. Ryoma didn’t spend half of dinner re-grilling Leo like he usually did when the Alpha came over, and his brother even seemed to get along with Camilla. Plus, after dinner they all went down to the basement to watch dumb holiday movies. It was a pretty big couch, but with eight people was still a squeeze. So, naturally in the interest of making space he had to get as close to Leo as possible.

He wasn’t on top of him or anything, but he was practically glued to his side. They also didn’t have too many blankets in the basement, so he and Leo had to share. About half way through the movie the overwhelming scent of honeysuckle and grass and Leo was starting to get to his head, and he was getting antsy. They didn’t normally sit this close when they were alone, and his Alpha scent was doing very weird things to his hormones.

He started fidgeting with his hands, scratching his nails down the leg of his jeans or tapping his fingers. Leo tapped the back of his hand with his knuckles. He froze, and once he was still the Alpha grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together under the blanket.

He was at a complete loss for words. At no point did Leo’s eyes leave the screen, but he did squeeze his hand when Takumi looked over at him from the corner of his eye. He felt like he was about to explode. Leo was holding his hand. He could have died happy then and there.

When they left he was on top of the moon. Maybe Leo did like him back. He was so giddy he could barely get to sleep.

________________

He was hopeful when he returned to school the following week, but the Alpha didn’t seem keen on acknowledging that anything had happened. He didn’t bring it up, and it certainly didn’t happen again. Even when they were completely alone in his basement.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to happen after Thanksgiving, but it certainly wasn’t nothing. They finished their last two projects together, and they kept their regular Friday night hangouts, but nothing happened.

Tomorrow was their last day before the end of the semester. He and Sakura were already in their pajamas and ready for bed, but they weren’t sleeping just yet. He was lying face down with his head buried in the pillow, and she was sitting on the end of his bed with him.

“I don’t know Sakura, maybe I’m an idiot. I thought he liked me.”

“Maybe he does? I m-mean, he did hold your hand.”

“But that was a month ago! Why hasn’t he done anything else? I thought he’d ask me out or try to kiss me or something, but he’s acting like nothing happened!”

“W-Why don’t you ask him out then?”

“Are you crazy? What if he said no? Gods it’d be so embarrassing!”

“Maybe he’s j-just waiting until the end of the semester?”

He looked up from his pillow. She had a look to her that immediately set something off in his head.

“Sakura… Do you know something?”

She giggled. It wouldn’t be unusual… She was friends with Leo’s little sister, and Elise was becoming notorious for being a bit of a blabber mouth. Sakura got up and scurried back to her bed.

“C-Come on, it’s late. Worry about it t-tomorrow.”

It didn’t make him feel better, but it did give him a little hope.

___________

He waited anxiously for third period. It was the last day of classes before winter break, so most teachers didn’t have anything for them to do. He had his Geometry final in the morning, but that was about it. He hadn’t even bothered studying because even if he completely failed he’d still be getting an A in the class. Third period they were just doing presentations for their final projects, and he and Leo had already presented theirs.

Leo leaned over to him when he sat down in class.

“Hey… Can you wait for me after school? I want to ask you something.”

His heart was already pounding, but now it was doing double time.

“O-Okay.”

The rest of the day couldn’t go by fast enough. He barely even touched his lunch, and Hinata spent the entire time teasing him about his “future boyfriend”. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too high. For all he knew Leo wanted to talk about something completely unrelated.

When the end of the day came he anxiously waited by the exit for Leo. Ryoma still had to drive them home, but he hoped that his brother wouldn’t show up and kill the moment until after Leo had asked him whatever he was going to ask him.

The Alpha was with one of his friends, the white-haired one with the eyepatch. They looked like they were debating something, and eventually Leo gave an exasperated sigh. His friend apparently got his way, at least if his giddy look was any indication. The other Alpha sniggered and pushed the blonde his way.

“Hey, Leo!” He tried to be casual, but his excitement was bleeding through in his voice.

“Hey, uh… Look this is going to sound stupid, but Niles wanted me to ask…”

“Uh huh?”

“I was just wondering…”

“Yeah?” He tried not to get his hopes up, but damn were his hopes up.

Leo sighed.

“How much would it be?”

“For what?”

“For you to blow me in the bathroom.”

He had no words. He just gaped at the Alpha for a minute, and finally stuttered out an “Excuse me?”

Ryoma was less calm about it. He’d apparently been coming down the hall behind Leo, and unfortunately for the blonde Alpha he’d heard the whole thing. His backpack thunked to the ground behind him. Leo’s eyes widened as Ryoma grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around.

“What makes you think that you can talk to my brother like that?”

“W-Woah, hey hold on-”

But he didn’t get to finish his sentence. Ryoma punched him straight in the mouth. Leo recoiled, then bolted in the opposite direction. His brother tried to run after him, but Takumi grabbed him by the arm.

“Ryoma no!”

“You’re just going to let him disrespect you like that? I know you like him, but come on Takumi!”

“He’s not worth it. You only have one semester left until graduation, do you really want to get suspended or worse?”

That seemed to level his head. He took a deep breath, then picked his backpack up off of the floor.

“Come on. We’d better get home before I change my mind.”

The drive home was a quiet one. As soon as they were home he dropped his backpack in the entryway.

“Hey how was school?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He called over his shoulder and ran up to his room. Mama tried to follow him, but he slammed the door and curled up in bed.

What an asshole! Just when he’d started actually liking Leo, he goes and acts like every other Alpha! Was that all he was to these people? A set of fucking holes? They had so much in common, they’d had so much fun together over the past few months, but all he cared about was getting his knot swallowed? Fuck it, he was never talking to another Alpha ever again. They could all shove it, for what he cared. He’d just die alone.

He’d just resigned himself to wallowing in self-pity when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Not now, Mama.”

She came in anyways and sat down on the end of his bed.

“Ryoma told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

He sat up and let her wrap an arm around his shoulders. He buried his face in her shirt and just let the tears loose.

“I thought he r-really liked me! I’m s-such an idiot!”

“Shh, it’s okay baby. There’ll be other Alphas.”

“They’re all the same! They’re just looking for somewhere to stick their dicks!”

“You’re still young. There’ll be other Alphas. I didn’t meet your father until I was in my twenties.”

“Yeah, but Papa wasn’t awful!”

She let him cry it out, until his chest hurt and his eyes were dry and he was sniffling and hiccuping. It probably took a good three hours, but she didn’t leave his side. She just held him and waited. Only once he’d cried himself dry did she speak up again.

“Why don’t I take you all out for dinner?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Consider it a reward for your good grades?”

“We haven’t even gotten our report cards back.”

“But I know you all did wonderfully. Come on, it’ll be fun. You can have all the miso soup you want!”

“… Alright. Thanks, Mama.”

He blew his nose and washed his face off. His eyes were still a little red and puffy still, but he grabbed his coat anyways.

Everyone else was already ready to go. Ryoma must have filled them in too because Sakura ran over and gave him a hug as soon as he got to the living room.

They almost always went to the same restaurant when they went out for dinner. It was a little Japanese place on the other side of town. Mama liked to go there sometimes because that was where she and Papa met when she used to waitress there. The food was pretty good, and they ran special all-you-can-eat sushi deals so they could get a lot for pretty cheap. Plus, Mama got a discount.

Everyone tried their best to keep it light. He ate about five bowls of miso soup, and by the end of it he was feeling a lot better. He even managed to smile at a few of Hinoka’s dumb jokes.

By the time they were done it was snowing pretty hard outside, and it took them awhile to get home in the blizzard. It was already pitch black outside, but when they pulled up to the house there was someone sitting clearly on their front stoop. He caught a flash of blonde hair as their lights went past, and he heard Ryoma swear from the front seat.

“That bastard!”

Mama pushed him inside the house as soon as they were in the garage. Takumi tried to follow her, but she stopped him.

“Just go talk to him, sweetheart.”

“But Mama–”

“I understand, just ask if he wants a ride home. I’d send your brother to do it but…”

He rolled his eyes and pulled his scarf over his nose. Leo stood up when he saw him come out of the garage. His lip was busted and bloody, and he was shivering but otherwise he seemed fine. He brushed off a fine dusting of snow from his shoulders.

“Takumi I–”

“Don’t.”

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, and after I say this I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“Fine. What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why would you say that to me in the first place?”

“It was just a stupid dare. I was going to apologize afterwards, but your brother kind of decked me and I wanted to avoid being beaten to a bloody pulp.”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it! It isn’t funny! Do you know how many times I’ve had Alphas seriously say that kind of stuff to me?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you would be so hurt by it, I thought it would just be a dumb, harmless joke. There’s no excuse, and all I can do is apologize.”

He was shivering like crazy now, and his cheeks and nose were bright red. He must have been standing out there for awhile if he was in such a shape. He knew Alphas ran a little warmer, but Leo’s coat wasn’t very thick to begin with and he didn’t have a hat, gloves, or scarf.

He let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed the Alpha by the wrist.

“You’re going to freeze to death out here, come on.”

He dragged him into the house. Ryoma was already waiting for them in the foyer.

“What is he doing here?”

“Don’t start, Ryoma.”

Takumi pulled him into his room and swapped Leo’s coat out for one of his thick wool blankets. He tossed his own coat and scarf aside and sat down next to the Alpha on the bed.

“… Thank you.”

“You looked so pathetic out there.”

Leo chuckled. “I must have just missed you, I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

An hour? It must have been ten below out there!

He bumped him with his shoulder. “You’re an idiot. Why didn’t you just text me?”

“Because I felt like an ass, and my father took my phone away when he saw the split lip.”

“Still, it could have waited until tomorrow. You could have frozen to death.”

“But I didn’t.”

“No, I guess you didn’t.”

Leo shivered under the blanket. He pulled one half of the oversized blanket over his shoulder and scooted closer. Leo’s skin was cold to the touch, and now that they were in the light he could see his lips had been turning a bit blue. His blonde hair was dripping as the snow melted off of it, but he rested his head on Leo’s wet shoulder anyways.

“Takumi?”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask you something, too. I mean, I meant to ask you something after I completed Niles’s stupid dare.”

His heart was beating out of his chest. “What was it?”

“I wanted to know if you would go out with me? I mean, the theater is doing some showings of old documentaries and I thought you might want to go with me… But I understand if you don’t want to, after all of this.”

“Y-You mean like… On a date?”

“Well… Yes, that was the intention?”

He’d been waiting for this for months now. And, in spite of the events of the day he was still ecstatic.

“… Swear you’ll never talk to me like that again?”

“For as long as I live.”

Leo didn’t hesitate in his response. So, neither did he.

“Alright, but you’re on probation. And you’re buying the popcorn to make it up to me.”

“Of course, I am a gentleman after all.”

“A gentleman that asks Omegas to choke on his dick?”

“Not all Omegas, just the ones I like.”

He laughed in spite of himself.

“Well, good luck getting Ryoma to like you after that one.”

“Baby steps, Takumi. Baby steps.”

#Leokumi #fanfiction #Omegaverse #High School AU #Alpha!Leo #Omega!Takumi

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sleeplessinsiswati · 6 years ago

Text

Toxic Masculinity—A Contagious Kind of Pollution

Yeah, yeah, yeah. My bad, I know I’m late.

*grumble and murmuring*

My bad. Look, i said my bad.

*lower murmuring*

Look, in my defense, I had the post locked and loaded on the queue and then my internet went out. Boom. Now can we get on with what we came here for?

_________________________________________________

As you may know about me, bell hooks is one of my favorite authors. She has inspired me, moment after moment and time after time, to grow and love myself and others more wholly and fully. In her writing she uses a combination of autobiographical, common-sensical language and academic, theoretical research to shed light to the various topics. Here, I will attempt to scratch at the masterpieces of her work, and use both theory and my experience to shed the light of truth concerning what I know about what the world has come to refer to as toxic masculinity.

Your story may be different than mine, but toxic masculinity is something that affects each and every one of us. Let me state again, masculinity is not the issue here; there is nothing wrong with “being a man” or being strong or having power. The issue comes in when notions or ideals of manhood force boys and men to be emotionally unavailable, makes us believe we are not enough as human beings, or encourages us to exploit and take advantage of others in an ultimate quest for power. There’s no way around the reality that this is no way to live, and there is the crux of the argument—living. Most of the things that we come to know and associate with being a “man” and “manhood” have to do with survival. Hunting, fishing, fighting, scanning a room and sizing people up, sports, fitness, taking a hit and not complaining, the list goes on and on. Most of these are guys grasping at straws, trying to get a piece, a bit more power than they had before, in order to survive. But this is not living.

This is why the first step to growth, and leading a healthier life absent of toxic masculinity, is reflection. You must look over your life, your experiences and genuinely ask are you living or are you surviving. Patriarchy, being a system where men and masculine energy dominate spaces of power or with power and women, children, and weaker men are seen as inferior and vessels willing to be dominated or controlled, makes us believe that survival is the ultimate resource and that there are constant, looming threats to us accomplishing this goal. Though at times this may be true, it is not always true, and if we walk through life always scanning rooms with balled up fists we doom ourselves to early graves filled with bitterness, emotions we’ve never experienced, and a life devoid of love. There is more to life than reliving childhood traumas day in and day out, but that more does not come without being able to reflect and to heal.

I don’t remember at what point in my childhood I started hating my dad; I know that it was not always that way. There’s a distinctly fond memory I have with him—wrestling my older brother and I, both of us no older than seven at the time, he pinned us down and stood on our chests saying, “ Who’s the man? Who’s the Man?” Gerald and I were half hysterical laughing, half having an asthma attack, and shouting, “ You’re the man! You’re the man!” He laughed saying, “ No, God’s the Man. Say, God’s the Man.” We giggle between gasps, “Okay, God’s the Man!” Mom came on to the scene from the back room of our duplex and looked at Dad with that look that only Black mommas can deliver; we were sorry that we got dad in trouble, but to this day I love that time in my life, I love that memory.

Perhaps it was the pressures of two lives, two similar personalities, and an age difference spanning over three decades that caused there to be so much friction between us; don’t ask me what the first argument was even about, because I couldn’t tell you. I think that it was the silence that ultimately led to it all. Questions not asked by a son out of fear, and questions left unanswered by a father unaware of the shadow his figure casted. What I do know is that early on in my adolescence I became disillusioned with childhood, with being looked down upon and thought to be foolish, and I know it had a lot to do with Dad and things he said, or how he said them. Something as simple as walking into the room that Gerald and I shared, looking around and making an expression, and finally looking at us and shaking his head was all Dad needed to do to express his disappointment. Honestly I appreciated the silent expressions a lot more than the verbal ones, which seemed to have a back-breakingly painful bite to them. Gerald grew to be calloused and joke about it, but I was raw to it; words more than belts and punishments are what would break my spirit. Around fifth grade I realized that love didn’t really matter, or at least it didn’t mean anything—I loved my dad and he kept smoking cigarettes even after my brother and I begged him to stop; I loved my mom but I couldn’t tell her what I felt about the world because she couldn’t protect me from it; I loved my brother but I felt he constantly belittled me, silenced me, and made me feel like I was stupid (I’m sure he took a few pages from Dad’s book, in this way); I loved myself, or I thought I did, and yet I constantly belittled myself, telling myself that in this world I would have to be stronger. Love could not change anything about life, it just made you feel like you couldn’t even more.

Eventually I gave in to this belief system—years passed and I graduated to full blown “I don’t give a fuck about anything”. I was afraid, powerless and with those tools as weapons I was ready for anything at any time because I felt I had nothing to lose; I felt I had lost so much of my soul already, it wouldn’t matter even if I lost my life. Hotheaded athlete, I knew how to mask my shrewd and heartless demeanor with cool, chauvinistic locker-room thuggery. I acted chill, I wanted to be chill, but in my mind, at any moment I was a shoulder bump away from a full blown “nigga moment”, as so accurately defined in The Boondocks. I was a ticking time bomb, an emotionally unavailable mess all throughout high school, and college was more the same with less of the guard rails.

But before we keep going forward, let’s go back. Black Baton Rouge has become well-known in modern society (before the Alton Sterling murder) for one reason in particular, as far as I am concerned, —Lil Boosie. Now, I’m not talking about “Zoom” or “Wipe Me Down” Lil Boosie, that’s mainstream Boosie. I’m talking “Set It Off”, “Murder Was the Case” Lil Boosie; Boosie that I met that one time at the Mall of Cortana and he said, “Wassup, lil niggas” Lil Boosie. That one. The Boosie BR natives knew growing up was trap before trap was cool. Street, gutta, whatever you want to call it, Black BR loved it and they had to have it. Hell the whole world came to love it, but Baton Rouge had to have it so much that they had to mimic it; kids, even, began to walk with certain swaggers, talking lingos picked up from lyrics. It was a damn masterpiece from a mastermind, and there was no escaping it. The problem though, is what this success for one man meant for many boys (like me and unlike me) growing up in that era. Is being a man being that kind of man? The kind of man in these songs? Why do these boys think less of me because I’m not a “man” like they think they are? Do they know they’re faking?

These were the type of thoughts that got me chin-checked on more than one occasion, questioning what someone saw as their manhood, or them thinking I was calling them soft. I was a huge fan of Dr. King in my younger days, nonviolence and all, but I made up in my mind after one good fight that Dr. King must have never been to Scotlandville, Baton Rouge, a day in his life, and that was that for nonviolence as a way of life in my mind. In a classic case of if-you-can’t-beat-them-join-them, I entered the wade pool of cool poses and posturizing. If a scrap came I didn’t think twice about it, and I was willing to take whatever bruises and lumps came with it from the school or the fight. Not like I was built or raise for all’lat, but didn’t seem like there was much other option.

Now let’s press play, back at the start of my university academic career. I had finally made it to the platform where I wanted to be—college freshman, class president, track team, chapel assistant, so on and so forth. And the shit felt as plastic as a maxed out credit card. The aggression, the fight that I had come to know and hate and love—for all its pain and all its suffering, I missed it; it was home, my home. Not much more than a self-righteous leader already, I quickly threw off the mask of who people wanted me to be as the smart, politically correct leader after freshman year, and allowed my passions to roam freely. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, for no reason other than I wanted to.

It wasn’t until I nearly lost my opportunities to continue my studies and was threatened with the potential for never finishing undergrad, that I sat down and contemplated what went wrong, and why. It was then that I had to take a journey through my mind, into my past and confront the decisions I made, the reasons I made them, and the consequences of those actions. It was here that I discovered and acknowledged the pain in my past. The memories of desperately wanting the approval of my father, and simultaneously being pained by not living up to his seemingly impossible expectations; Times where he seemed to be emotionally unavailable hurt me more than any belt whooping ever could; fleeting thoughts of being silenced or crying inconsolably from feelings of inferiority or brokenness. From these starting points I came to resent the presentation of manhood before me in my father, and the power that came with it, with hoping to one day overcome (or overpower) it by whatever means necessary. That bitterness spilled over into other systems of power and I came to resent almost all, if not all, forms of leadership. Being on the lower rungs of the power dynamic at home and the frustration that came with it did not get any better in the world beyond those four wals; I was short, readily referred to as “nappy-headed”, and emotionally vulnerable. The ego bruises and self-esteem damage I received from early on in my public school career led me to believe that I had to become someone powerful, or to have power, in order to not be disrespected. This belief would haunt me from the moment of its beginning up to this very day.

Once I realized this, and I was able to accept that for the vast majority of my life I had been living in my past burdened by unforgivness, that I had not been the person I really wanted to be, I began a journey of learning to become for the first time. It was exciting being able to unlearn ways in which I had limited my own humanity for fear of not being perceived as manly or displaying some form of power, but it has also been very painful at times. Admitting to yourself the damage that you have done to others, the damage you have done to yourself, and the damage that has been done to you is not easy. There are people who to this day I feel I owe apologies to, for things that I said or ways that I treated them, Black women in particular; for the sake of recovering acknowledgement I didn’t receive in my youth but desperately wanted, I took advantage emotionally of women who otherwise loved me, cared for me, and wanted to see the both of us to succeed. Some people, most people, are afraid to look into their pasts and examine the truth of their actions because they do not want to face that there may be consequences to their actions; even towards themselves there is unforgivness and bitterness. The truth is, without confronting our past we are bound by them and they have power over us. Only by being able to non-judgementally examine our actions, accept that they were wrong, and pay whatever toll to move forward, can we begin our journey of healing.

Even I was afraid to begin my journey of unlearning toxic masculinity thinking that I may be vulnerable to the world and it’s threats, but I have come to find my wife and best friend, a life of love and laughter and carefree living, and wholeness through this adventure of learning. Yes, I am now more likely to cry in public and yes I share my feelings more with others, but I now see that instead of living a life silencing parts of who I am and distorting other parts of me to seem more angry or more threatening than I feel, I can just…be.

And that, for me, is enough.

Pain is universal: we all experience it, feel it, and suffer. But the only thing equally as universal, and infinitely more powerful is the healing from that pain; that healing is love. I challenge you to ask what ways has toxic masculinity been a part of your life, and then challenge your self to live a more whole, more alive life. Only by ending this vicious cycle can we stop the pollution of toxic masculinity, and breathe the fresh air of self-acceptance, self-love, and truly show our love for others.

Peace.

#growth

1 note · View note

jestdrabbles · 7 years ago

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Every Hurdle, Every Chasm - Chapter 05

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Warnings: canon-typical violence Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya, Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, Todoroki Shouto Relationships: Dekusquad friendship | Pining Tododeku & Tsuchako Other info: Dekusquad Roadtrip AU ; Fun times ahead but also some emotional times so I should definitely warn about that!; MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS.

Words: ~8,300 | Chapter: 05/? | Language: English

This was a busy month, so sorry for the delay! Because it’s been so hectic, my editing may have suffered a bit so I’m sorry for any confusion. If anything needs clarification, I’ll gladly go back and tweak it!

Also on AO3!

Day 05: Glass [December 28]

They rise well-rested enough to only nudge Shouto’s blanket bundle a couple times before he stretches and follows their lead to get ready. Tenya opens the window with relief when a clear sky greets them as opposed to yesterday’s overcast. The day’s plans consist mostly of indoor activity with evening reserved for Otaru’s Snow Story display, and Tsuyu decides to lessen her layers accordingly. Ochako stuffs an extra jacket of her own into Izuku’s bag under the guise of just-in-case, but he sees right through her strategy despite playing along.

He isn’t entirely without some attention to himself, however. Shouto packs up his medical kit to leave in the car because he knows some of them have a tendency to get injured without intention, and Tsuyu laughs when he forfeits defending himself and accepts the truth. With all precautions accounted for, they begin the day after a quick breakfast and hit the road toward the university for a morning with the indoor botanical garden.

“I’d love to see all of it someday,” Tsuyu says as they bypass the leafless trees, traversing across the snowy path on their way to the greenhouse. She glances around at others still enjoying the gardens in their most dead season, and she taps her finger to her cheek. “Have any of you ever thought about university after graduation?”

“I’ve considered it, but at this point, I would have to wait until next year to begin the application process,” Tenya answers, hand at his chin. “I want to work and see if I’d be able to balance both heroics and academics, since I wouldn’t ever want to risk falling short on either.”

“That’s true! I never really thought about it since I want to start working as soon as I can.” Ochako folds her arms behind her head, lacing her fingers at her neck as she walks. Her lips purse as she side-eyes the rest of them. “Besides, I’m not the studious type like the rest of you.”

“I don’t really consider myself studious either,” Shouto says with his hands in his pockets.

“You say that, but you’re still in the top five,” she pouts.

“That’s because I pay attention in class.”

“Hey! Are you implying I don’t?”

“Ochako’s notes are cute,” Tsuyu interjects, and her arms abandon their relaxed position as she straightens out in her fluster. “Besides, I don’t think grades have much to do with your capabilities as a hero so long as you know how to apply it.”

“I agree with that.” Izuku points with his face turned back slightly toward them. “Togata-senpai was at the bottom of his class, but he was still in the top three. And as Lemillion, he’s considered one of the best out there right now!” He almost mentions how he wishes Lemillion had been a hero when he was young; maybe then he could have had more confidence in his abilities as a quirkless kid with heroic aspirations. The secret settles in the back of his mind, alongside the memories. “But going back to what we were talking about… I didn’t think I’d get into U.A., so I thought I’d have to consider other occupations. So who knows, maybe I would have been a university student.”

“True, your quirk wasn’t… polished at that point,” Tenya speaks on the exam as politely as he can, “but I’m sure you would have been able to get into General Studies with your grades.” Shouto casts his eyes down, checks his phone, and walks ahead at his own pace. Tsuyu notices his avoidance of the conversation, and she decides to catch up with him to ask about it underneath a whisper.

“Maybe, but I didn’t consider that an option,” he says in earnest. “For me, it was heroics or nothing, you know?”

“Thank goodness for that! Can you imagine Deku as a pencil-pusher with a quirk like that?” Ochako jokes and pats his back, his own chuckle mingling with hers. She looks up and notices how Shouto and Tsuyu have created more distance, and she calls out to the two of them, dragging both Izuku and Tenya by their arms. “Hey, you two! Wait up!”

It’s then that Izuku notices the residue of Shouto’s solemn expression, already working itself away from distaste. Whatever nerve they’d struck, he tries his best to avoid any possible repetitions as they approach the greenhouse. He holds the door open for the rest to shuffle inside, pleased with the scarce crowd scattered about. Tsuyu exhales with her arms out, warm air cradling her face as she nuzzles into it. Ochako readies her camera for a shot, quietly cursing for it to load quicker so she won’t miss her chance, and Tsuyu catches on just as she zooms in a bit closer.

“Are you filming this?”

“Maybe,” she snickers, and Tsuyu aims her tongue at the camera’s lense to blacken the screen as Ochako declares a louder-than-intended holy shit. She clamps her mouth shut behind her gloved hands, and Tenya gestures profusely in apology to anyone disturbed by their antics. While Ochako’s focus is consumed entirely by her clear favoritism, the others take in the lavish greenery within its glass cage as they adjust to the seasonal change. Vines hatch through the lattice fences leading them through the west wall of the garden, and Tsuyu notes how it used to be far less intricate.

They bypass various plants, some far more interesting than others, but Izuku catches the girls snickering to themselves over by the shrubs. Ochako waves him over, and they extend their hands as if framing the hedge to inspire something within him. Clearly confused, he thinks of something to say.

“It’s… a nice bush?”

“No, look! It’s totally you!” she points to the dark coloration of the mock-orange’s leaves to its lighter underside, then to Izuku’s own bushy hair. He steps back at the comparison unsure how to feel about it. “Small and durable, like you! Plus it’s salt tolerant.”

“Wait, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You were friends with Bakugou,” Tsuyu explains, “so you’re pretty tolerant of salt.”

Shouto turns to look at the maple with his hand masking his own amusement, and Izuku pulls back his hair as he laughs. How can he argue with that? Part of him worries about the name in his contacts shooting across his screen in scorn at them talking about him, but he knows it’s impossible. Tenya attempts to correct them on speaking ill about those who cannot be present to defend themselves, but his case closes soon as they shrug and claim it as less insulting and more speaking the obvious.

“Iida’s gotta be a tree,” Ochako looks around the garden trying to pinpoint him, “but you’re the type that’s too big to be in an indoor garden like this. One with a sturdy trunk and totally upright!”

“I can’t say I disagree, but why?” he asks, and she smiles wide.

“I mean, obviously because you’re an upstanding citizen!” She places her hands on her hips proudly in her proclamation, and he is visibly moved by her compliment with his hand at his heart. “But also! You’re reliable and protective, so you have to be big enough to give people shelter.”

“When they cut you down, I bet they’ll print a rulebook,” Shouto comments, and Tenya waves his hand down, passionately at the ready to defend his tree’s legacy.

“One that I hope you’ll read thoroughly!”

“Oh, oh! Let’s see, what would Todoroki be,” Ochako says and taps her finger to her chin as she devises appropriate revenge for Tenya’s sake, but he speaks up before she has a chance.

“I’ve already been through this. I’m the fertilizer.” Shouto provides the answer himself, and she spits in her laughter because she would have never thought of that on her own.

“Wouldn’t you rather be mulch in that case?” Izuku leans over and asks, nose scrunched in amused disgust at the comparison. “At least be plant still!”

“Technically, I could still be a plant even as--”

“Please, I’m begging you not to elaborate on this.” Tenya pinches his eyes beneath his glasses, and Ochako agrees for different reasons: she prefers all of this without context. Still, she offers up her own sentiment to his new floral identity alongside the others by saying they have a greater chance at survival thanks to his help, and he distracts himself elsewhere without knowing how to react.

While they could easily circle the whole garden twice over with the amount of time they have, they decide to take it at a leisurely pace and allow Tsuyu to soak up as much of the warm, pocketed spring as she can. For a moment, they forget about the bitter cold waiting for them beyond the windows. Izuku and Ochako shed themselves of their coats and tie them around their waists with the latter at an absolute loss how the others aren’t sweating in their sleeves.

They stare down the entrance, confrontational as a final boss, and brace themselves for the cold by huddling together and moving as a single unit. They shuffle back to the car with muffled yelling toward the harsh breezes, some truly combatting the cold, others for the sake of playing along.

Locals listening in steer clear of the ten-legged monster screaming at snow.

A little over an hour on the road has them arriving in Otaru past noon, and with all the outdoor exhibits closed for the winter, the interior remains fairly empty thanks to most tourists favoring a full experience over partial. The group appreciate the elbow-room to venture around the aquarium as they please, and Izuku marvels at a fish passing overhead while they walk through the glass tunnel toward the darker room.

“This is making me miss the beach back home.”

“The beach or the morning jogs?”

“A little bit of both,” he says and stretches. “I’m not used to slacking like this. Maybe tonight we should use the gym back at the hotel before bed.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I doubt we could get away with more impromptu sparring,” Tenya recounts the previous occurrence. “In that case, should we try to head back earlier so we still get plenty of rest?”

“I say we just take our time,” Ochako recommends with her hands raised. “If we finish early, then I’m down, but we can always squeeze it into our morning routine if we want.”

“That’s true. I wonder if they have an indoor pool, too.” Tsuyu watches the fish swim about, and they can tell part of her looks ready to hop into the waters and join them. Izuku imagines for a moment that she’ll dive headfirst into the hotsprings once they reach them, but he quickly shoves it aside since he would rather not spend his thoughts on the girls’ half.

They carry on in conversation while looking through the various tanks at all the different types of fish and creatures they don’t have back at their own aquarium. Ochako tries to quiz herself on a few that she recognizes, and she cheers for herself triumphantly when she guesses correctly, crediting all her success to spending the car ride on her phone with Animal Crossing.

Tsuyu had been looking forward to all the aquatic life, but she finds it hard to tear her eyes away from Ochako’s enthusiastic chestnut gaze as she smiles brightly toward the back-lit glass. Tsuyu watches as her mouth moves over her words, how she can hear heart in each sound, and how nicely cool colors compliment her despite the fact that she usually dresses in warmer tones.

She must have been staring a little too intently because the usual petals of Ochako’s cheeks bloom broader, spreading up to her ears.

“A-Am I being too loud?” she asks bashfully, and Tsuyu hurriedly shakes her head.

“I was just thinking that…” you looked cute, but she can’t bring herself to finish it this time as opposed to other times she’s offered the same compliment. Without a means of finishing her thought, she turns to the others for possible back up only to find that they’ve journeyed further along to discreetly give the girls some time to themselves. She ribbits and lowers her face on her finger, hoping the dimly lit room hides her own blush. “I was thinking that I’m lucky.”

“Huh? Why’s that?” She smiles, hoping that Tsuyu isn’t dwelling on a worrisome mindset given the tone, but she’s grateful for the space apart from the others in case.

“Ochako, do you like fish?”

“I like eating them, yeah!”

Tsuyu snorts and loses herself in her own laughter, shaking loose the previous embarrassment. The other doesn’t understand what’s so funny, but she tries to figure it out with escalating scenarios: I wouldn’t eat a pet fish or anything! And I’m not getting hungry being here! Do you think I’m seeing them all cut up on a board? Her own imagination tumbles out her mouth with rising distress, and Tsuyu quells her easily with her hand on her arm.

“Even if you’re not all that interested in coming to a place like this, you still enjoy yourself. That’s why I’m lucky,” Tsuyu explains, and Ochako’s lips freeze in a smile as she listens to the compliment. “I guess I got a little lost in thought watching you, Ochako. Sorry for making you think you did anything weird.”

Ochako giggles, shaking her head. “I guess it’s like this… if I took you to a planetarium, rambled about constellations and all that, would you still have fun?”

“Well, yeah. With you, even boring classes are fun.”

She smiles wide, teeth shining sweetly. “See? It’s the same for me.”

“Hey, we’re going on ahead to the next room,” Shouto stays behind Tenya and Izuku to call out to them, and they quickly catch up without paying the last few tanks much mind. He looks to Tsuyu for a brief moment as silent apology, having only wanted to tell them where they went, but she shakes her head.

Tsuyu knows that if she wants to spend time alone with Ochako, everyone will respect that; however, she doesn’t want either of them to miss out on enjoying time as a group. That’s something she values in her balanced affection, and she’s comfortable knowing that Ochako never seems disappointed when their time together comes to close. It gives her hope that together, they have stability in each other and those around them.

Of course, Shouto cannot read her mind, and he walks on ahead with the other two in case. Both girls share a glance and smile, bumping arms and catching up quickly to cluster together again since they’re the only ones in this area of the aquarium. Without having to worry about disturbing anyone else, they resume sharing their observations with each other in excited bursts. After a few exclamations, Tenya has to shout his own concerns about disturbing the fish or employees, but they tease that he’s being louder than both Izuku and Ochako together.

He offers his sincerest apologies to the sectioned seas and their inhabitants.

Tenya parks a few blocks away from the Music Box Museum, and he jots down the street sign and obvious landmarks in a note on his phone so they could find it easier past sundown. With temperatures dropping again, Shouto offers his arm to Tsuyu, and she takes the opportunity to chain both herself and Ochako to him. While the others don’t necessarily need the extra warmth, they can’t help but envy how comfortable she looks pressed against his sleeve.

Wooden floorboards creak beneath their feet when the bell chimes to welcome them inside the old, brick building. Dangling ornaments decorate the spacious interior, various trinkets lining shelves on display amidst the vast collection of music boxes attracting them further inside. Had they come just a few days sooner, they wouldn’t be surprised to find gingerbread houses accompanying other decorations atop the tables.

“It’s so cozy in here,” Tsuyu says as she rubs her gloves together. An employee brings their attention to the complimentary hot cocoa, and she takes it upon herself to pass the paper cups down to her friends for them all to enjoy. Now that they have a better view of the place, they notice it more akin to a specialty shop than a museum, but some antique items still qualify well enough. “So… do you think any of them are haunted?”

“Why would you even say that?” Ochako shudders, and Tsuyu pats her.

“With this many, I suppose at least one has to have that sort of history linked to it.” Tenya entertains the idea with his own speculation, and Ochako shifts her pouting toward him. “Can you not handle ghost stories, Uraraka?”

“I mean, I’ve gotten better,” she grumbles, “but only because Tooru found out and started pulling pranks on me.”

“Hagakure can be pretty dangerous like that. Hang in there, Uraraka.” Izuku offers her his condolences while she nods her head in feigned hurt. They keep in a line the best they can as to not crowd the aisles while they work their way around each display. With so many music boxes chiming together, they have to hold up one to their ears to really listen in on the melody, but recognizable songs have them humming along in nostalgia.

They wrap up the first floor quick enough without much interest to the duplicated displays, but the second floor shows them a new perspective with antiques from across the world. Phonographs and photographs call back to times before quirks, and Izuku’s namesake tugs him toward faces he’s never known, time he’s never seen, but can relate to. He holds one by its metal frame, peering into the grainy texture toward a familiar landmark until he nearly drops it from the sound of an old record filtering in.

“Incredible,” Tenya interjects as an employee tests the phonograph from his request, but they shut it off soon enough as to not disturb the others listening to quieter tunes. Out of the three stationed, only one still operates consistently while the others either need a bit of extra love or have long since died. Izuku can see in his eyes how he’d love to tinker with the mechanics, but Tenya knows how to keep his curiosity in check.

They wander further and find the other three admiring some antique music boxes with an employee seated nearby to make sure they’re handled with the utmost care. He has to practically sit on his hands when he watches Ochako raise one of them to her ear, but he breathes a sigh of relief when she holds it still without shaking it. Izuku can tell he’s seen some shit.

“Is it just me, or do music boxes seem melancholic?” Ochako sets one down after listening to it closely, careful of her fingertips.

“I always thought they were creepy, especially when one starts playing in an empty room.”

“Maybe you’ve seen too many horror movies.”

“Hey! I thought we moved on from that topic!” Ochako shushes them before they can conjure up the ghosts listening in, and they make sure to filter their thoughts better. “But really… listening to music box versions of songs can make me cry. I wonder why that is.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Izuku finishes off his cocoa, and she answers him in a sardonic grin.

“That’s because you cry over everything.”

“That’s not true!”

“It’s pretty true,” Shouto adds without turning around from where he’s listening to other boxes, his empty cup atop the counter. Izuku’s face descends in its dramatics, his soul mimicking et tu Brute?, but even he can’t deny that they’re right. Rather than linger on teasing Izuku, he returns the toy to the table and rotates around to face them. “Do you really think they’re sad and creepy?”

Something about the way he asks has them searching for a way to reconsider their initial reactions, but Tsuyu speaks up first. “What do you think about them?”

“I like them.” He takes another from the shelf, this one a wooden jewelry box with a glass cover. He opens the lid and closes it soon after hearing the first few notes, setting it down again as if it already failed some sort of test he’s given it. “I think we used to have one, but I don’t know what happened to it.”

“And you think you’ll be able to find a similar model here?” Tenya asks, and Shouto shakes his head.

“I can’t even remember what it looked or sounded like. I didn’t even really remember it until we got here, so I doubt that I’d even recognize it.”

“Well, maybe you don’t have to visualize it! If hearing other boxes reminded you that you had one, then there’s still a chance something else can jog more of your memory. Why don’t we try looking around?” Izuku offers as a suggestion, and Ochako pumps her fist at the mission plan.

“If it’s here, then we’ll definitely find it!”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“What else are we going to do here, Shouto?” Tsuyu sticks out her tongue. “Besides, the longer we’re in here, the longer I get to avoid the cold. Let us know if you remember anything else about it.” She smiles and takes his empty cup, then accepts anyone else’s as she takes the opportunity to toss them into a small trash can and returns with both her hands ready to work through other boxes.

Over the course of their travels through the second floor, Shouto surmises that the box they had was an actual box and not a wind-up music statue, so they narrow their search further. Tenya offers his advice that judging by Shouto’s room and what he’s shared about his house, the style was most likely eastern rather than western. They continue trying to narrow their searches down until he stops at a dark, cloisonne case with simple flowers decorating the walls and a more intricate tree adorning the top. He lifts it with his fingers searching for a dent-- no, a scratch along its side-- but he only feels a smooth surface. Judging by how long he’s held it compared to the others before it, Izuku leans over.

“Closer?”

“This one,” he begins, inspecting the back for its wind-up key, “might be the same kind. Or at least close, yeah.” He turns the key and opens the top, and they shuffle closer to listen in on its melody, gentle and calming. Shouto closes his eyes to try and recall the sound filling his and his mother’s room, but no matter how hard he concentrates, nothing solid arises. That may be the nature of it, he supposes. It isn’t like metal box could float anyway.

“So what do you think?” Tenya asks a moment after the song finishes, and he closes the lid.

“Even if it isn’t the same exact one, she might still like it.” Shouto lifts the tag accompanying it and taps his finger against the edge as he contemplates his funds. Ochako glances at the price and keeps her worry to herself, but she takes it upon herself to grab the attention of an employee once he’s made the final decision to purchase it.

Once he’s taken care of the packaging, he tucks it safely into his bag, adjusts his strap, and looks to the rest of them with a word at the tip of his tongue. He lets himself soften at the hypothetical look on his mother’s face when he tells her about the team effort, all for something that may or may not resemble a piece of their past. She knows their names, their faces for the most part, but he knows the day he can introduce them all at once is still far beyond.

“Thanks. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that you all helped me find it.”

With the cold, nightly winds slapping them sharp in their departure, Ochako promptly reaches her entire arm down into Izuku’s bag to retrieve her extra hoodie and passes it to Tsuyu with little fuss. She tugs it over her sweater and tugs the sleeves over her palms as she keeps her hands huddled to her chest. Thankfully, they adapt to the cold after its initial greeting and find themselves amongst the foot traffic leading over toward the canal.

Deciding that they would rather have less crowding on the way, they slip into a side street and gravitate toward a quieter path even if it takes longer to reach their destination. Tsuyu takes to Tenya’s side rather than Shouto’s, perhaps to give the latter a break, but Tenya takes his responsibility very seriously as he offers to encase her in his arms should she need their protection. She laughs it off with gratitude, and she presses her sleeved palms to her cheeks as she lets him know that she’s warm enough like this.

Tenya can’t help but smile down at her. They carry on until Ochako joins at her other side with her phone ready for pictures with street lights offering just enough lighting to take passable shots, even if they don’t hold the same quality. Tsuyu and Tenya pose accordingly for the frontal camera, and once she’s content with one, she thanks them and slips back.

Ochako sidles up beside Shouto’s right and sneaks a photo of herself pointing toward him, then she slips behind again to remain inconspicuous. So far so good; she captions the picture and prepares herself for round two, much to Tsuyu’s gentle knock against her forearm to play nice when she passes her. She lifts her finger to her grin and waits a moment until she’s ready to catch his left, and as she snaps the picture, he glances back at her and finally speaks up.

“Can I help you?”

“Busted,” Tsuyu ribbits, and Ochako adds the caption and considers her mission successful. She shows the set to him, and he cracks a fleeting grin: He can be your angle… or yuor devil. He snatches her phone and sends both to his own.

“You actually want to keep those?” Ochako snorts, and he shrugs.

“My mom asked for pictures of me.” he pockets his phone and keeps his hands snug inside. She shakes his arm in exaggerated panic, Tenya and Izuku chuckling behind.

“Do not!” she gasps. “Don’t you dare show those to your mother! Let me take real pictures!”

“Things like this are fine. Besides, she’d agree.”

“Todoroki, that’s,” Izuku stammers on how to address the comment when he says it so casually, but the guiding blue lights bordering the canal summon their attention forward. Quickening their pace, they reach the border of the canal to see how the surface glows under gentle brightness, reflecting off their eyes and skin. The lights stretch down the canal, decorating posts and boats, even glittering across the Asakusa bridge.

“It’s beautiful.” Tenya follows the path upstream, wistful in its whisper. Groups and couples pass them, chattering on their way through private conversations and shared smiles. He can see why the simple serenity would attract this sort of crowd when he adjusts the bracelet on his wrist. “Shall we?”

“Wait, I want to get a real picture of us all on the bridge!” Ochako smiles excitedly, flitting around each of them until they surrender to her whims. She drags them further south the canal to the bridge and takes it upon herself to set them all in place. However, when she tests it out and adds herself, she notices how Izuku loses himself behind her and Tsuyu.

“I can stand off to the side in front of Iida?” he offers while she compromises her initial vision. It hits her suddenly, and she snaps with a wink.

“How ‘bout this? I can make you float so you fit perfectly between us!”

“Oh, yeah that works!”

She raises her hand, and he meets her in a high-five, immediately weightless and grabbing onto her shoulder for anchorage. They let Tsuyu grab the attention of passerby to take it for them, and Tenya keeps Izuku upright by placing a hand on the small of his back. Once everyone’s in place with Ochako wrapping her arm around Tsuyu, they all attempt to smile perfect on the first try as to not take up more of this stranger’s time.

Even so, when she retrieves her phone to see the results, she finds four versions. One catches her attention in particular, and she quickly swipes past it when Izuku looks over her shoulder to see for himself. As much as she would love to uncover him, she doesn’t think Shouto would appreciate how they managed to catch him eyeing Izuku on camera. She shares her favorite with everyone and allows them to actually start the walk now that her very important task has been checked off the list.

They cross the bridge to the other side of the canal and carry on toward the center plaza. Tsuyu twitches when a breeze blows past their legs, sending the chill up her spine and bringing her hands to her arms. Izuku starts to offer his jacket for yet another layer, but she takes both his and Ochako’s arms and keeps herself linked in the toasty center.

“Don’t they set up candles at some point?” Izuku asks, keeping his attention toward the canal after accidentally locking eyes with a couple passing them.

“I’ve heard about that,” Tenya adds as he tries to recall when exactly, “but unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll be able to see it.”

“Sounds romantic.” Ochako sways in her steps, and Shouto lifts his finger to set a tiny flame at its tip. While she understands his gesture after the fact, she squawks at the imagery of a canal decorated in finger-flesh candles and fans the flame until its out. “Nevermind! Not romantic at all!” He slips his hand back into his pocket and turns his head toward the canal where Izuku’s study still lingers. Either there’s something on his mind, or he’s fixated on the twinkling over the water; Shouto drifts closer to the stone fencing lining the canal and peeks over the edge.

Thanks to the lights, his reflection vaguely stares back at him in the dark water, obscured by the blues and golds from the lamps. He sweeps some of the piled snow aside, pieces toppling over into the water and rippling him out of watery existence. Shouto readies to catch up with the others, but when he looks back, Izuku is standing just a lamp post away with the others having gone ahead. He thinks back to the aquarium and worries about separating from the others.

“Sorry, I got distracted,” he carries on, but Izuku doesn’t try to rush them.

“That’s okay! I was getting caught up in it, too.” He takes Shouto’s idea of brushing the snow aside and uses the exposed stone to rest his arms. “I told them that we could meet up later.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well no, but I kind of wanted to talk to you,” he confesses, and Shouto’s chest tightens. “I never got a chance to ask you about what you wanted to say last night. I thought maybe you forgot or didn’t want to say it in front of everyone.” Izuku watches as he confirms it with the puzzled face Shouto wears in return, and he chuckles. “Did you really forget?”

“I just didn’t expect it to come up again.” He sets himself beside Izuku against the stone, thankful to tune out the other people walking onward behind them.

“You know me,” Izuku speaks with a mocking tone at his own habits, “I can’t just ignore stuff like that.”

“That’s true.” His lips crack a natural semi-smile, and Izuku worries about it shattering if he’s prolonging the talk like this. He finds it unusual given how the past two years haven’t left Shouto as a mysterious person to him; the only thing he hasn’t touched on again is detail in his upbringing, and Izuku knows better than to force it out of him. “But to be honest, this might be better than what I had in mind.”

“What do you mean?”

Shouto’s hands find one another, draped over the stone, and he tears his eyes away from Izuku beside him to watch down into the water below, stilled since dropping the snow earlier. He thinks back to his conversation with Tenya, how he knows what his words and actions weigh. “I wanted to ask if we could do something,” Shouto says as he focuses all his excess energy on cooling his face to hide how it heats, “apart from everyone else. Maybe go looking for souvenirs for All Might and your mom. Something like that.”

Oh. Relief washes over Izuku as his nerves loosen from having to worry. That’s all. From the way he’s been keeping on his phone, how he knows who the majority of the news is following, he’d assumed there was something more to the story. He relaxes and readies himself to respond, but it suddenly slams into him like a swinging hammer.

Oh.

He should be grateful he’d never inherited his father’s quirk or else Shouto may have to deal with a face full of flames caught up in his own fluster. Izuku winds himself down the best he can, but when he looks back to Shouto, his face is turned away and his shoulders bounce. The puffs of foggy breath give away his snickering, and Izuku drags his hand down the back of his head.

“Listen, I thought you were about to unload something serious!” His voice wavers as he speaks, embarrassed but recovering.

“I am serious.”

“You know, I really can’t tell what you’re thinking sometimes.” He leans back from the barrier, balancing on the heels of his sneakers. “But I guess if you ever need to talk to me or ask about something like that, you can text me, and we can make up some excuse to break off. I don’t think anyone would notice since I’m on my phone a lot anyway.” And so are you, he thinks but holds his tongue.

“You’ve been keeping in touch with All Might?”

“As much as I can without bothering him,” Izuku says and brushes his nose with the back of his glove, “but I’ve also had to text my mom since she worries if I don’t. I actually called her when we were on the ferry, but otherwise just in the morning or at night. I made sure not to tell her about Yutapa though.” He knocks lightly on Shouto’s arm, content with friendly exchanges despite how his heart buzzes in his chest. “I don’t know if you’d get off without a scolding.”

Shouto doesn’t mirror his grin; if anything, his lips tug taut between his teeth. He wonders if he’s said something wrong, reminded him of a shortcoming he’d rather move past, and he thinks to reassure him that his mother is overprotective and wouldn’t hate him or anything, but Shouto places his hand on his shoulder. Izuku really should know better than to trust himself to the silence, and he apologizes.

Shouto hates that he has to take his hand back, hates that he’s waiting for any natural chance to touch in the first place. He can see Inko Midoriya’s worried eyes reflected in the way Izuku stares back at him, something at the tip of his tongue but unable to say, even after one of his muttering spells. If he were anyone else, Shouto would shrug it off and take the opportunity to start walking back toward the others. Instead, he finds himself at the cliff of his resolve, another reflection over the canal just waiting to be seen. He parts his lips, name waiting in his mouth, but the noise falls victim to flashes and roars ahead.

Shrieks resound as the night sky bursts in smoke and violet flame.

The calm atmosphere surrenders itself to the frantic rush of civilians evacuating the area, running past the two frozen in their feet. Both Shouto and Izuku abandon their conversation without remorse, eye one another, and sprint toward the plaza. Where they’d promise to gather at the ukidama tree, the glass shines and shatters across the pavement in the chaos. Izuku’s gaze darts across the fleeing crowd, searching for anyone responsible for the destruction, but Tenya tugs him by the shoulder before he can act on impulse with Shouto having gone through.

“We’re getting to the van. Now.” Ochako and Tsuyu are at his sides, unable to ignore their rescue instinct to search for anyone in need even with Tenya’s tone harsh in their ears.

“But--”

Another explosion bursts from the bridge, wind skidding their lighter bodies as arms shield them from possible debris. Tenya raises his voice to repeat himself above the screaming, but Tsuyu acts quicker than any of them when she spots a civilian caught between one of the brick warehouses and blazing fire, blood soaking his knee where he lay.

Without restraint, she darts toward him and slips through the crowd, low to the ground in her movements as she braves the heat and extends her tongue to capture the young man paralyzed in his fear before further wreckage can reach him. Just as she pulls him back, another surge of fire strikes and threatens to blast through where he’s tugged, and she quickly leaps to finish closing the space between them.

Her smaller frame wraps around him and protects him from the oncoming blow, sacrificing her left side to the flames’ touch before they tumble out of its terrain. Beneath her, his breath hitches on its gratitude, even as he writhes in pain from burns and blood. She pulls back swiftly, still shielding him the best she can.

“You’re going to be all right,” she reassures, “was there anyone else with you?”

“N-No, they never showed up,” he strains in his speech, and she nods.

“Tsuyu!” Tenya calls out, rushing to her side in an effort to remove them both from the crossfire. She raises her head, cheek red from the concrete’s scuff, and props the young man up with a hand on his back. He clutches his leg in her hold, teeth dry in his hiss.

“I don’t think he can walk,” she tells him, fast and on the lookout for another array of the villain’s quirk. No sign of him, especially through the dark smog he’s created. “Tenya, we can’t leave him.” He grits his teeth and turns toward the others, only spotting Izuku and Ochako through the smoke with their backs against one another on alert while they wait for their plan. “Tenya!”

“I know.” He struggles to mask his frustration as he contemplates his actions and repeats, “I know! But we can’t get involved any more than we are.” Tenya whips around to Izuku and Ochako, voice louder as he yells over the noise. “You two! Where is Todoroki?”

“I’m right here!” he shouts when he comes barreling out the smoke and lowers himself to both Tsuyu and the injured civilian. “I can create a barrier so we can--”

“No! We’re getting out of here, now,” he snaps back with everyone now near enough to hear. He reaches into his pocket and tosses the keys to Shouto. “You four, head back toward the van. I’ll rendezvous once I’ve brought him to the hospital.” Tsuyu assists in easing him onto Tenya’s back, and she does her best to reassure him that he’ll be safe soon with the engine hero-to-be. They instruct him to hold on as tight, and Tenya takes off without threat of immediate acceleration. Even with his usual running, he would be faster than the rest of them.

A whistle splits through their ears, another bout of purple embers scattering the cracks in the cement. Izuku’s eyes glare off in its direction, rage building in his blood where he has to fight himself more than the villain to stick to the plan. “Let’s go. Now!” he roars over the embers’ howl, and Tsuyu staggers as she returns to her feet, left leg limp. She winces, ready to force her leap, but Shouto quickly bends before her.

“Get on! We gotta go,” he states without giving her a choice, and she obeys as the three sprint from the plaza and back down the canal, passing a team of pros on their way to handle the turmoil. She squeezes her eyes shut at the sounds still booming in her ears, arms tightening around his neck while her body tenses. It isn’t that the attacks frighten or even surprise her; the opposite spits a truth they all know by now:

There is no such thing as a day off.

“Uraraka! Are you all right?” Izuku calls after her, noticing her distance from the two of them still running on ahead.

“I’m not as fast as you two!” she yells, trying her best to keep up with them. Izuku turns on his heel and darts back toward her, concentrating on his Full Cowl to make lifting her and sprinting far easier than without. She yelps from his sudden grasp, but she thanks him while clutching on close.

They always say the journey back is quicker than the arrival, but Shouto and Izuku cut it down by half. Charging past the newly lifted blockades, they ease off the urgent speed so Izuku can set Ochako back down, and they continue through the streets until finally reaching the museum landmark. Just another block, and they spot the van alone and parked right where they’d left it. They could be grateful for that, at least. Had they taken the train into Otaru, this would have been even more of a nightmare.

Shouto unlocks the car and prioritizes Tsuyu by setting her down in the back seat with her legs facing out, getting a better look at her leg under the car’s light. “I don’t think it’s that bad,” she says and starts to pull at the fabric where the flames had burnt through to free more of her skin, but he grabs her wrist to stop her.

The sky still carries with it thick clouds of smoke and a thunderous echo of eruption.

“Uraraka or Midoriya, can you get my bag?” he asks without facing either of them, still concentrating on the problem at hand by releasing hers. “You’re right, it’s not as bad as it could have been, but we still need to treat this,” he insists and notes her shivering, “fast. Sorry. It’s best if you don’t try to pull the fabric from it.”

“Here.” Ochako holds his bag for him, carrying it in a way that he could open it without worrying about anything spilling out. From it, he fumbles his hand around, feeling for a specific item until he pulls out a plain wash cloth.

“Hold this for a second,” he places it in Tsuyu’s hand, then goes back to his bag for a small set of scissors from his medical kit. She has to will her eyes away from the process while he carefully cuts the fabric loose from her burn, catching Ochako’s worry as she visibly fidgets in her footing. Izuku offers to take the bag-holding duty, but she shakes her head.

Shouto steps back from her for a moment to ice the towel, then holds it away from himself as his fire melts the ice without evaporating all its moisture. Once it’s doused, he wrings it damp and brings it back to her, cool without the intensity of ice. “We can rinse it when we get back. Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“No,” she croaks, holding the damp cloth to her leg and resisting the chattering in her teeth, “this is the worst of it. I should have been more careful.”

“You did the right thing.” He blinks up to her face, earnest despite his frozen expression. She can see how he takes a longer look at her cheek, and he retrieves a cotton swab and disinfectant from the bag to dab at her scrape, just to be safe.

“Here, Deku,” Ochako finally takes him up on his offer and passes Shouto’s bag to him while she carries herself to the other side of the car and lets herself inside. Scooting down the seats, she sets herself in the middle, “We should have her raise her leg, right?” She looks across to Shouto for approval, and he nods. “Okay, then here, Tsu. Go ahead and prop it over mine.” She crosses her legs, grabs a pillow from the back, and creates more elevation.

“Are you done with this?” Izuku asks, and Shouto answers by zipping it shut and taking it from him. “Iida should be back any second. Let’s start the car so we can leave as soon as he gets here.” Otherwise, I might not be able to stop myself from running back. He doesn’t want to imagine any possible casualties caught up in the crossfire.

“Yeah.” He tosses his bag in the trunk and shuts it, walking around the right toward the front seat where he finds Izuku already occupying the passenger. They shut all the doors to keep the wind away, start the car, and soon enough, Tenya comes into sight. Hurriedly, he shifts out of park, and Tenya swings the door open to hop into the back seat, slamming the door shut and prompting Shouto to start heading back toward Sapporo.

Instinctually, Shouto switches on the radio to fill the silence, but all local stations prioritize the outbreak at Otaru Canal. The only immediate knowledge he holds onto is that the roads toward Sapporo are closing in order to deter any villain activity from spreading to the major city. He leaves it be as he asks Izuku to reroute his mobile map, halfway listening and eyes tunneling down the road as he squints through the layer of fog on the windshield. He eventually has to lean forward in his seat to rub at the glass with his sleeve, and Izuku takes it upon himself to set the heater on the front window and shut off the radio.

As much as he wants to know what’s happening, to hear that the pros have it under control, the reporters’ voices continuously add layers to the air until it crowds his lungs.

The road expands as Izuku swallows back the rush of words threatening to lunge from his throat, and he turns around to face his friends silent in the back seat. Ochako has her hands pressed against Tsuyu’s thigh as she holds the damp towel in place and whispers apologies to the other girl’s shivering reassurances. Izuku’s eyes trail to the other end of the backseat to Tenya staring out the window with his glances darting behind them and an obvious unrest pestering him in his jittering leg.

A conversation no one wants to confront, not yet.

Green eyes linger on them a moment more, wanting so badly to upturn his tightened lip and offer them peace of mind. Be their Symbol of Peace. Yet here he is, trapped in quiet with his fingers digging into the seat until he turns to face the front of the road again.

Shouto’s silence doesn’t warrant his concern, not initially. Mismatched eyes blink to snatch glances from the rearview mirror, ears keen on the shivering and knowing full well he should focus on warming the car. Instead, nothing leaves the vents, nothing breaks the domain of shuddering breath and sighs until Izuku’s attention finally surrenders to the thin layer of ice dusting over their driver’s right hand. Following up his arm slowly, Izuku watches the chill form on his neck and bring his breath visible in a light display of shivery smoke.

His voice finally finds him.

“Pull over.”

“We can’t,” he answers, tone level and low as always, but there’s a distance to it that summons the others’ eyes. Tenya’s hand reaches for the seat in front of him, and he leans over to inspect their driver.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“I’m not the one who got hurt.” He glances back through the mirror to their injured companion, reminding everyone of the urgency of their situation. His grip on the wheel tightens as he tries to keep collected and focus on putting more distance between them and the danger possibly following suit.

“You’re shaking, Todoroki,” Izuku whispers despite the fact that everyone can hear, and he can see Shouto’s jaw clench down as another puff of smoke leaves his nose. Visible frustration, but he doesn’t let it sway his resolve when he repeats himself with steadiness, this time stern. “I’m not asking. Pull over.”

“He’s right, Todoroki,” Ochako echoes softly with her hands loosening her hold on Tsuyu before they could potentially argue. “We’re all shaken up and need to take a break. What about the next exit?”

Shouto knows better than to try and cling to stubbornness with multiple people ready to dispute, so he bites without another word and keeps his eyes out for the next available lodging while trying to balance his nerves. He knows he’s only worsening the cold in the car the longer he drives even with the heater running, and he chooses to ignore the stare accompanying his left.

Even with this much distance between them, Shouto sees the smoke in his peripheral.

It almost clouds the exit, but he catches it in time to merge off the highway, toward the mountains.

#long post /#it's nearly 2AM I'M SORRY FOR THE WEIRD POSTING TIME

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