#lowkey inspired by million days by sabai and lets not fall in love by big bang

[zhowongli]

neon lights (in a world gray)

notes: tried some msby interactions but i’m bad at writing a lot of characters so they may be a little flat. some underage drinking, fwb, & drunk texting. i’m v bad at humor but i tried. song accompaniment recommendation: million days by sabai x hoang & let’s not fall in love by big bang! also posted on ao3. 

summary: sunday mornings and midnight lights turn into songs that you watch me write. AU where you share extreme feelings with your soulmate. - atsumu/oc

wc: 10.7k (v sorry)

Your body is first to know your soulmate. The way your heart beats faster in exhilaration, your muscles burn in soreness, your body demands for food and sleep even though you are not doing anything in particular, hits you on more days than others. There’s always this constant feeling before a particular day, where you feel all these things plus a sense of hunger for something, anger and frustration, and accomplishment. Sometimes, these sudden days end in a panging ache in your heart, but usually, there’s always a sense of elation after these moments.

You are often left to wonder what kind of person your soulmate is. It makes your days a little more fun from the way he feels this sense of euphoria from doing such physical activities, from the soreness of your calves and the dull ache of your hand and wrists, from the sense of successfulness after, because he always feels so passionate about it. You wonder if sharing his passion for doing whatever he’s doing, for life, feeds into your thirst for adventure.

Your life is pretty boring and at an impasse, and while you don’t particularly mind it all that much since it has served you well thus far, you always want something more. You suppose this is why you’ve always liked chasing the thrill. You like feeling the adrenaline in your blood and the accelerated thumping of your heart because it makes you feel so alive. Doing things that you aren’t supposed to be doing is a sort of fun that you like to have because there’s something just so riveting, and it keeps calling you back. 

You have a bucket list of things you’d like to try before you die because you want to involve yourself in things that bring you happiness, to do something that fills the hole in your heart, however temporary that may be. There are already some small things on there that are already checked off: skipping class, getting a belly button piercing behind your parents’ backs, trying a sip of alcohol. As you keep fulfilling the little things, you end up always adding more back onto the list. You like to turn these little gratifications into memories by weaving your emotions into words, words, words on paper, and before long, you have an accumulation of untold stories written in secret.

But there’s always one thing you have at the bottom of the list that you’re not sure if you could ever check off, ever write about: falling in love and being loved in return.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

You first feel a gnawing pain in your heart at the end of your third year of high school. At first, you think it is you who is experiencing this pain, but then a sense of fury settles in. Your soulmate is angry, you think as you put a hand over your heart, and you begin taking deep breaths as you lay down on the rooftop just to feel breezy spring winds in your hair and on your skin. You know your emotions are interconnected, so you suppose you are trying to help calm his tremulant heart in your own way. 

Breathing in the chilling air as it blows the ends of your hair and flutters the ruffles of your skirt, you find yourself feeling more at peace before, anger diminishing. You’re not sure if it helps, but at least it makes you feel like you’re being helpful. Then, a sense of sharp betrayal and waves of sadness hits you. Your soulmate feels betrayed and hurt, and it makes you feel a sense of unsettlement in your heart. Your initial thought is that you want to help to ease his pain, but you think if he feels so intensely about it, it isn’t your place to try to override his emotions. So, you close your eyes as you lay on the rooftop, hands clasped together as if you’re holding his hand, and hope he feels your presence alongside him as a sort of moral support as he goes through whatever is happening.

Before long, his emotions leave you, and you’re glad at least he isn’t feeling as sad and betrayed when his emotions first flare in your soul. You smile, and you decide to skip class for the rest of the day, mind never too far from wandering what your soulmate is like. 

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

You haven’t felt much from your soulmate since then. There are days when the exhaustion in your body hits you harder than normal, but at this point, that has become a part of your daily routine. Sometimes, you feel the occasional intense, lasting embarrassment, and you end up feeling embarrassed and heat rushes to your cheeks. You think your soulmate may be an idiot at times like these, to be honest. But you become less focused on him and more focused on you and your bucket list as time goes by because his emotions just become a part of you.

You are about to start university when you first meet your roommate at a party some upperclassman invites you to. She is a mess, you think, as she stumbles in the bathroom, tears stain on her face and alcohol in her breath. You’re probably not in much better shape. Your head is a little dazed, and you feel a little extra empty on the inside right now because you feel like you have nothing. She wails loudly when she sees you, and you open your arms to hold her. 

“I hate him!” she sobs and whimpers into your shoulder. “Why do I love him? Why doesn’t he love me?”

You can only rub small circles on her back and press soft kisses in her hair. “I’m sorry, honey. I don’t have how it feels because I don’t know how to love.”

You think you don’t want to love after seeing this poor girl. 

“But what’s the point of love if it doesn’t consume you?” she breathes out in between sobs, the scent of alcohol hitting your nose with each breath. 

You hmm in agreement because you think you’d like to lose yourself in something so passionate, so intense that it fills your soul, but you don’t say anything more.

Somehow, in between drunken conversations, you two end up becoming roommates. The two of you are more similar than you initially thought: both of you are empty on the inside, for different reasons of course, but that makes you two get along so well. 

Her words still echo sometimes in your head as you two go on in your daily lives: you with your volunteering at the animal shelter to distract yourself from reality and her with her morning runs to run away from her problems. 

What is the point of love if it doesn’t consume you?

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

Your roommate has a bad habit of going out and home with someone whenever she feels extra hung up on her soulmate. You know this because although the two of you don’t say it outright, your habits rub off on each other. Of course, this means you two have fakes and often end up hitting up parties and clubs dressing a little extra provocative to fill up the hole inside your hearts. She just wants someone to want her, to hold her like she’s not broken, like that’s her soulmate holding her; you just want someone to bring some fun and thrill in your life. 

You’re not sure how you ended up here. You remember the dim lights and the loud music; you remember dancing with your roommate and wanting someone to go home with after she leaves with some blond guy. You suppose your brain is a little buzzed from the alcohol, but you still vaguely remember feeling someone grinding against your body as you continue to dance. You turn to the stranger who moves so in tune with your stumbling beat, and you find yourself looking at blond hair and black undercut, darkened hooded eyes, and a small drunken smirk on his face. 

You vaguely remember staring at his lips and slurring some flirtatious words, and before you know it, you two are out of the club, hands on each other, and lips barely apart. The soft, loving voice of your mother briefly echoes in your head - “Don’t be with someone who doesn’t love you.” But her voice drowns out the moment your desirous eyes and eager lips meet his, and you don’t think you’ll ever regret this. You love the feeling of his lips roughly on yours, like he’s hungry for something, for more. His roaming hands leave a trail of fire with each touch, and you cannot tell if your heart is beating in exhilaration because of you or your soulmate. Whatever, you think to yourself, you don’t care right now because all you can think about is how good it feels to be held by him. 

Your back is pushed against the cold wall of the alleyway beside the club, and this coldness strikingly contrasts with the heated kisses and fiery touches of his hands and momentarily clears your mind.

“My apartment is close by,” you mutter in between kisses.

He nods, and you only remember the way back in glimpses between frantic kisses with your hands in his hair and his hands slipping under your short dress, hot breaths between your lips as you continuously find your way back to his, as if you need him, as if he is air.

You don’t even make it to your room before he hoists you up and your legs reactively wrap around his waist. Your hands are back in his hair before you begin raking your nails softly against his back. His hands are slightly colder from being outside but each touch sends a lingering, blazing shiver down your spine. Before you know it, your clothes are thrown off along the hallway to your room. 

With half-lidded eyes, you see the blinking starlight through your window blinds, almost as if it’s twinkling in disappointment. But you don’t have the heart to care when he’s leaving trails of fire along your body and your nails are digging lines of raw pink all over his back.

You hope your soulmate somewhere out there also feels the thrills, the excitement, the passion you are feeling right now.

You feel so alive.

When you wake up the next morning, he is gone. If it isn’t for your scattered clothes along the hallway and marks all over your body, it would have been like he was never here in the first place. You are not surprised, but you are not sure if the disappointment you feel in your heart is from you or your soulmate.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

Funnily enough, you see him again at the next club party you go to. You are just dancing the night away, a little drunk on alcohol and high on emotions, when your body meets his again. 

“Wanta get outta here?” he asks over the loud music as his hands are on your waist and yours are around his neck.

“Okay,” you nod and pull him out of the club, stumbling upon the same steps to your apartment, and remembering it happening in the exact same way as last time.

And exactly like last time, he is long gone by the time you wake up, leaving you to feel the same disappointment in your heart.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

It’s always a good time with him. He is fun, passionate, and it is a little thrilling that he is just some random stranger. But you’re not sure if you can still call him a stranger when this happens for the third time.

“If you just wanted to see me, you could have just called,” you laugh in his ear, hands playing with the hem of his shirt as his ghosts over your thighs. 

He looks a little dumbfounded before he joins your laughter and gives you a roguish smirk. “Sorry, my phone’s broken. It didn’t have your number in it.”

You could only stare at him blankly. His sly smile falls off under your unmoving eyes, and he begins to chuckle nervously in embarrassment. You’re not sure if you’re embarrassed because that is lowkey cringe or if your soulmate out there is in another bout of doing something embarrassing, but you laugh softly.

“That was bad,” you admit in between laughs and holds your hand out for his phone, “But here. Let me fix that.”

You see the relief on his face, and the embarrassment you feel in your heart feels subside. He’s interesting, you think, because he wears his heart on his sleeve. 

Whatever mood there was before is gone, but you still end up leaving with him after a quick kiss becomes two, three, numberless because it feels like you can’t ever get enough of him. The two of you make your way back to your apartment once again, much like your previous encounters.

However, when you wake up in the morning, you are surprised to find him still next to you. His eyes are closed, but you can tell he’s awake through his twitching eyelids and uneven breathing. He probably missed his chance to leave, you think, and you debated on whether you should spare him the awkwardness and pretend to continue sleeping or to wake up and continue from last night because you’re not quite ready to go back to feeling empty again. You’re a little selfish because you decide that your escape from reality is a little more important to you than his awkwardness.

“Hey,” you sit up slowly to not irritate your pounding head, blanket pooling around your legs, “Wanna join me in the shower?”

You don’t even have to look back as you hear the ruffles of the blanket and feel his arms around your waist. 

You are drying your hair with a towel when your eyes trail to his form. His blond hair is still a little flat from being damp and there are still droplets of water on his body when he begins putting on his discarded clothes, and you have to remind yourself to breathe because he knocks the air out of your lungs. He is attractive, and you’re not easily impressed, but there’s just something about him that makes your heart flutter and squeeze excitingly. 

But it’s also a little unsettling when you see him in your room in the daylight. Your room is a collection of books, papers and ink, and coffee mugs, and seeing him here with his blond hair, broad shoulders, and smile that’s brighter than the sun is startling because he contrasts so much from your monochrome room. This is the first time you’ve seen him when you’re both completely sober, without the haze of alcohol and the darkness of the night. It’s almost like you’re exposing a part of your life that’s previously only set to nights only. It suddenly hits you that you still don’t even know his name even though you know his body as well as your own by now.

Almost as if he feels your unsettling heart, he turns to question you, “Ya good?”

You nod only because you’re not about to open up to the guy you’ve slept with three times but still don’t know the name of. “I’m fine.”

He looks at you pointedly, but he ruffles his blond hair and doesn’t push it. “Okay, I’ll see ya later?”

You hmm in agreement and laugh, “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

Contrary to your statement, you don’t see him soon. He’s not at any of the parties you subsequently go to. He never texted you after you put your number in his phone, so you figured he was just here for a good time, not a long time. Knowing this doesn’t help the tightness in your chest when you think about him.

Somehow, you think you finally understand why your roommate only has eyes for guys with long, bleached blond hair because you find that you are naturally attracted to guys who resemble him. You almost end up going home once with a different blond guy when you don’t see him, but you don’t feel the same excitement from his touch so you just left. 

You begin to wonder since when did your eyes always look for signs for a tall blond with a lazy smile and addictive kisses. You wonder since when did your body only react so intensely when it comes to his touch. You wonder since when did your soul only feel so vibrant when you are with him.

You wonder if your soulmate out there feels the same too because you’re not getting such vivid liveliness from him these days. You still feel the adrenaline in your blood, the dull aches of your arms and hands, and the usual exhilaration after certain days. However, there’s a sense of lingering mundaneness too. It’s a little funny if you think about it because it’s almost like your soulmate is here with you, feeling the exact same feelings as you. 

He’s the one who approaches you first when you see him again months later. It’s the same old story: you’re at the club with your roommate, though she’s coming with you less and less, and you’re just having fun on the dance floor when he appears. When his hand touches you again for the first time, you feel that same electricity, the same intensity that only he draws out. 

“Hey,” he smirks, “Ya look good, as always.”

“Hey yourself,” you smile flirtatiously back at him, “You look alright too, I guess.” 

His mouth drops and his eyebrows furrowed together like he’s offended at your comment, but you don’t feel that bad since his expression is rather hilarious. 

“I missed ya,” he continues, ignoring your previous comment like it doesn’t hurt his ego.

“And I missed you too,” you smile a little more genuinely now. 

It doesn’t take long before the two of you are touching, kissing, and leaving together again. It’s always more fun when he’s around, you think to yourself before you lose yourself in him. 

For the first time, you two are talking in your bed, still naked, instead of sleeping after being too spent for another round. He’s a little closed off, you think, regarding his personal life, and he’s somewhat reserved and awkward at first. When the topic of careers comes up, his eyes light up under the dim lights and he tells you he’s a volleyball player in Osaka and he’s only in Tokyo for random occasions. 

Ah, this explains the long absence. 

You listen to him as he passionately talks about the sport, his Kansai accent slipping out more and more as he talks. You can just hear how much he loves it and the silent message of how little room he has in his life for anything else. 

You tell him you don’t have anything you’re passionate about. He is confused by your statement like he’s surprised that there’s someone with no passions in life, like he’s almost offended that you have no passion in life. You only shrug and continue to tell him you volunteer at the animal shelter, and you write occasionally sometimes because it is your major. 

“Really? Ya seem to be someone with a lot of passion for life just from the way ya kiss,” he comments offhandedly as he rolls to his side towards you and props his body up on his elbows, eyes looking into yours. 

It takes you by surprise because no one has ever told you anything like that. “You think so?” you ask as your eyes meet his. You tug softly on his arm to pull him towards you, and when he lays back down and wraps an arm around you, you absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair. 

He hums in agreement as he relaxes into your touch. There’s a sense of domesticity in this situation that makes you feel both scared and comfortable. You haven’t experienced this sort of intimacy with anyone else, where you are just talking about life still naked after fucking, and it’s scary because it’s so unknown. But there’s just something about being with him that feels so at home, like he’s supposed to be relaxing in your touch as you play with his hair, like he’s supposed to believe in you and inspire you to chase your passions, like he’s supposed to be here with you. Your heart flutters as the conversations continue through the night. You try not to think about it because maybe your soulmate has suspiciously crazy good timing and is the one with the pulsing heart.

The two of you fall asleep only when dawn comes and the first rays of the sunlight hit peek through the blinds. Unlike the stars that seemingly twinkle in disappointment, the soft lights look gentle, hopeful, positive, in a way you haven’t thought of in years. When you see his sleeping face, his mouth is slightly gaped open and his limbs are taking up all the bed space, you find that it’s a little endearing. 

Your heart flutters again, and this time, you don’t fight the fact that you know it’s you and your dumb heart, not your soulmate’s, that’s animatedly beating like this. 

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

“I said sign me the fuck up, not assign me the fuck up,” you groan into your hands. The forming headache from earlier exacerbates into throbbing pains of a migraine. 

Your roommate just pitifully pats your head before she just says, “Unlucky. How’s he even a fuck up? Isn’t he like, on his way to becoming a professional volleyball player?”

“Well, okay, he’s not  really  like a fuck up. But yeah, basically, he only cares about, like, one thing and one thing only: volleyball,” you continue to whine as you bury your face in your arms. “God, I knew blond guys with poor dye jobs were a bad idea.”

“No,” your roommate rebuttals, probably because her now not-boyfriend-but-basically-boyfriend’s black roots are showing and he definitely needs a retouch on that blond soon, “Being friends with benefits was. You’ll always end up catching feels, babe.” 

Your roommate’s words from forever ago echo in your head - “What’s the point of love if it doesn’t consume you?”

“Ughhhhh,” you groan again, purposely dragging out the sound to express your exasperation. You hate that she’s right. You hate that you kind of had an idea this was going to happen. You hate that your stupid fuck buddy is so stupidly hot, and he makes you feel so  alive . 

“So what are you going to do now?” your roommate questions as she pulls your head out of your hands and into her lap, fingers softly playing with your hair and soothing the tension from your headache.

You pause for a moment as you move your arm to shield your eyes from the light before you answer truthfully, “I don’t know. It’s kinda… scary.”

She hmms in agreement. “It is. But isn’t it better to just fall? He doesn’t seem like the type to let you fall.” 

“I don’t know,” you mutter weakly again, “I never know with him. He’s driven by things he’s passionate about, and he’s always either giving his 0% or 120% into whatever he loves, like volleyball. I’m just a booty call. I’m scared to be 0%.” 

“Babe, I don’t think you’re 0% if he’s still hitting you up every single time he’s in Tokyo.”

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

He texts you first. It comes at an unexpected moment for you because your soulmate is going through a series of accelerated palpitations and a sense of hesitance that makes even your palms sweat, and when it arrives, this nervous energy doesn’t leave you. You feel a little anxious, but you’re not sure if that’s because your soulmate is so jittery right now or if you are scared to open his text. 

When you finally open it, you forget how to breathe for a moment. If you were confused about whose beating heart and jitteriness it was before, you were definitely unsure now. Your racing heart adds onto this tension right now, and you make sure to read it twice, thrice, before you exhale softly. 

In hindsight, it’s not even a special message, but when you think about how this could complicate things, how this will change from being just whatever you guys are right now to being something more, your heart flutters a little more. 

“wanna come to my volleyball game?”

You force yourself to take a deep breath, repeating the words inhale and exhale in your mind like a mantra before you respond with a simple “sure.” 

The instant relief you feel in your heart comes quicker than a ray of light. Once again, you are unsure whether that relief is coming from your soulmate or you, but either way, you are just glad you can breathe again. 

You try to not think about the giddiness in your heart and the matching smile on your face.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

 “Bro, what the fuck do I wear to a volleyball game?” you cry out in frustration as all you look through all the clothes you dug out from your closet.

Your roommate walks through your door, “Dude, what the fuck?” She makes a disgusted face as she walks into your room, picking up pieces of clothing along the way, “You’re just going to a volleyball game, just wear something comfy and cute.” 

You let out a strange noise before you plant your face into the small mountain of clothing you accumulated. Your roommate sighs before you hear some ruffling and feel a light tap on your head. 

“Here, wear this,” she offers. “You’re thinking too hard about it. Just have fun!” 

You take the clothes out of her hand and let out another noise. Your roommate only laughs at you before she pats your head, “Okay, go on. Don’t want you to be late for your date!”

A feral noise comes out of your mouth as you try to hide your embarrassment. “It’s not a date!” 

She laughs again and before you can yell at her, your phone lights up. Your eyes naturally trail to the blue light of your phone, and you see a text message from him. You quickly open the text, and your face heats up a bit when you see a picture of him in his black jersey, flashing a peace sign with a lazy smirk. He is almost handsome enough to distract you from the cringe caption that comes along the picture. 

“hope ur ready to see me smack that ball like i smack ur ass ;)” 

You snicker because oh my god he’s so  embarrassing . Your fingers automatically type a quick response. 

“yikes. hope you smack it harder than you smack my ass bc it ain’t going over the net otherwise :p”

In milliseconds, you receive a short “what!!!! :(“ in return, and you burst out laughing. 

All the worries of what to wear and the tension in your body dissipates as the sound of your laughter rings in the room. From the corner of your eye, you see the small journal you kept in high school with the list of things you’d like to accomplish in life. Remembering the last item of the list to check off, to fall in love and be loved in return, you scoff softly to yourself. There’s a sense of acceptance and sereneness as you admit that you can check off the first part now because you are undeniably falling in love with this idiot.

However, minutes later, your face heats up because you feel so embarrassed. It almost feels like your soul is leaving your body because you just wanted to be swallowed up by the earth. You could only hope your soulmate is okay.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

To be honest, you’ve never gone to a volleyball game before, but the rush of emotions and energy in the area fills you up. It brings you a sense of passion, intensity, and you take in this moment and capture it in your mind. You mentally make a note to incorporate this feeling into the new piece you’re writing.

The actual game goes by in a blur, partially because you don’t know what’s going on but also because the heat, the rush just draws you into the moment and you are hyper-aware of all the movements in the court. As Atsumu goes up to serve, you see his brown eyes scan the crowd, and when he spots you, he smirks and points a finger at you as if he’s saying this serve is for you. 

The crowd goes wild by his gesture, and the teenage girls sitting in front of you, the middle-aged man sitting behind you, and the grandma next to you all squeal and argue half-heartedly who he is pointing to. You only laugh, hoping he is too far away to spot your heated cheeks, before you flash him a quick thumbs-up, hoping he’ll catch it before he focuses on the game again. 

He puts too much power into his spike and misses his serve, and his face is comically dejected so you laugh quietly under your breath because he just missed the serve he dedicated for you. You see his teammates go up to him, the one with the black and white hair slapping his back with a hearty laugh and the one with orange hair bouncing to him to make a joke. Only then, you feel a pang of embarrassment in your heart, and you wonder if this is what Atsumu feels at the moment. You are beginning to craft up a ludicrous theory that he’s your soulmate because somehow, your soulmate always has impeccable timing attune to your emotions and what’s happening around you.

The rest of the game goes by in a swoosh. There is a combination of bam, whoosh, and wham, and there is a boing here and there. It becomes more BAM and sploosh after the player with the black and white hair keeps scoring points, and this seems to fire up the orange-colored hair player and Atsumu even more. The colored hair trio continues to score points, almost as if they are feeding off each other’s energy and trying to one-up one another. Though the latter is more like Atsumu trying not to be outshined by his teammates, you laugh to yourself. 

They end up playing three sets and win the game. You are honestly amazed because you can barely keep up watching. Now, you have a newfound admiration for Atsumu. The cheers in the stadium are loud, deafening, but all that drowns out when you see Atsumu’s genuine smile. He looks so excited, happy, and your heart beats in exhilaration. Your eyes meet, and you flash him a bright smile because you cannot contain the energy in this arena, his happiness, and the exhilaration in your heart within you. For a moment, his smile drops and he only gawks at you before his two teammates from earlier slap his back again, causing him to bend over from the force. His eyes only leave yours then, but it seems like his two teammates are curious about what he is looking at. Following his gaze, you now find yourself looking at 2 additional pairs of eyes, and suddenly you feel a little shy. You give a small wave, and they wave back boisterously before they begin to exclaim something to Atsumu before you feel a new sense of embarrassment in your heart again.  

The crowd thins out as Atsumu and his teammates make their way towards you. You suspect that this is more so because you’re next to the exit than anything, but they all stop to greet you with knowing smiles on their faces. You try to take it at face value and not think too much into the meaning behind their smiles. The two that introduce themselves as Tomas Adriah and Barnes Oriver leave after a wave. Shortly after a pleasant conversation, the ones named Meian Shuugo and Inunaki Shion follow suit. This leaves you with the colored hair trio, who is currently arguing and strangely reminds you of the three stooges, and a player with wavy black hair and two moles on the right side of his forehead. He’s beautiful even with his mask on if you’re honest, and his calmness feels like a breath of fresh air here. 

You hold out a hand to introduce yourself, but before you can say anything, you see him squeeze some hand sanitizer into your palms. You blink twice before you mutter a soft thank you and rub your hands together. A little peculiar, but you appreciate the value of cleanliness. After your hands are clean, you try the introductions again. This time, he introduces himself as Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Your hands are still connected when Atsumu swings an arm around Sakusa, breaking off your handshake. You see the disgruntled look on Sakusa’s face as you catch Atsumu’s eyes fleetingly before he turns to talk to Sakusa loudly about something. Just then, you see orange hair bouncing to you, and within seconds, you find sparkling brown eyes staring at you. 

“Hi!! I’m Hinata!!” He greets you eagerly.

Before you could reply, the taller player with black and white hair pushes Hinata down, his sparkling golden eyes that match Hinata’s in excitement, and he loudly introduces himself. “Hey hey hey!! I’m Bokuto!!”

You could only introduce yourself briefly before they start talking again.

“You must be the girl Tsumtsum talks about!! Did you know he tripped before the game started today, and he was soooo embarrassed??” Bokuto starts playfully as he leans closer. He is so tall and muscular, and you feel so small in comparison.

“Yeah!! You must be the reason why he tried so hard to look cool serving today!” Hinata merrily adds as he leans in closer too, laughing at the expense of Atsumu.

Atsumu’s “Hey!! Shut up!!” could be heard softly in the background as they continue. Your mouth only drops a little bit. You try to chalk your shock up to the fact that they still have so much energy despite just playing three sets of a difficult game, and not because they are telling you things you’re not sure if you’re supposed to know. After all, this gives you a sense of hope that you may not be 0%.

“Well, too bad he still missed those serves…” you inject teasingly. 

At that, Hinata and Bokuto burst out laughing, and you join in their contagious laughter before Atsumu leaves Sakusa and whacks his teammates softly before the three of them begin bickering lightheartedly.

“You guys are both terrible and embarrassing. Goodbye,” Sakusa sighs as he makes his way out of the stadium. 

You meet Sakusa’s eyes as he leaves, and you nod in agreement. He gives you a nod in return, and you think you discover a newfound sense of comradery with Sakusa. 

The trio waves goodbye to Sakusa before going back to bickering. You can hardly keep up with the energy, but it’s so fun. You catch Hinata saying something about how Atsumu is failing at all his attempts to be cool and how Atsumu is furiously denying it because he’s naturally born cool. When you guys finally part ways, you pretend not to see Bokuto and Hinata’s attempt at wiggling their eyebrows and flashing conspicuous smiles at Atsumu. 

“Ignore them” is the first thing he says after he flips them off and turns to you. You only hum in acknowledgment, laughter bubbling up. 

“They’re fun,” you offer with a small laugh.

“They’re scrubs, but I guess they’re kind of okay sometimes,” he huffs. 

“You guys are cute,” you coo teasingly, “Are you what they call… a tsundere?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles with flushed cheeks.

You pat his arm softly as you laugh. “You did great today, by the way. It was all bam and whoosh and wham!! I can see why you like volleyball so much now.”

His face scrunches up at your description of the match, but his brown eyes light up nevertheless. He begins to zealously talk about the game. While you are listening to him, all you can think about is how he outshines the twinkling stars and how beautiful he looks in his messy hair and sweaty jersey. 

“Are you listening to me?” he pouts when he finds you not very responsive.

“I am,” you reply half-heartedly, still a little too taken with him.

“Then, what did I just say?” he questions dubiously, one eyebrow raised. 

“How you missed your first serve and definitely did not smack that ball as hard as you smack my ass,” you poke fun at him.

His face falls almost comically, but you can’t help yourself from laughing because he’s just so fun to tease. 

“I’ll show you how hard I can smack that ass alright,” he grins with a smug look on his face as he pretends that your last comment didn’t hurt.

You tug on the collar of his jacket before you pull him into a kiss. “I suppose I can indulge my winner tonight,” you mutter with a sly smile.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

Pillow talk becomes something that’s happening more and more often between the two of you, and you’re not sure what to make of it. He is the type of person who is independent, and you kind of get the idea that he is a little awkward around his feelings despite his front. It’s nice, you think, because he is opening up more and more to you. He is still relatively drawn back, but he is slowly letting you in, and it makes your heart flutter in hope.

Much like the nth times before, you two are talking about such mundane things that shouldn’t make your heart wild, but it does. He tells you about his twin brother and how they used to play volleyball together, how betrayed and hurt he felt at the end of high school when his twin decided to pursue a different career than volleyball. Your mind briefly wanders back to laying on the rooftop, feeling the wind in your hair, and holding your hand like you’re trying to hold your soulmate’s as he falls apart. He tells you about his previous teammates and how they still keep in touch and try to schedule yearly hangouts. He tells you about his dreams and how he will play for the Japanese national team one day.

His speech is always so animated and passionate, and you look at him with admiration in your eyes. You share bits and pieces about your life because it’s only fair he gets to know you when you know so much about him. There’s not much to say about yourself because you feel so boring, so you opt to talk about the stories inside your head.

You scrunch your eyebrows together, trying to condense the storyline to not spoil him, as you tell him about the historical fantasy piece you’re writing. You tell him about the characters, their backstories, and the worlds you’ve crafted for them, explaining each one and their feelings with wild gestures of your hands. You tell him about the short and arguably bad poems you write sometimes for a change of pace and will never show anyone because it’s so embarrassing. You tell him quietly about the unfinished story of a girl who checks things off a to-do list because she feels like she has nothing and is on a journey to find something, anything. 

“How does that one end?” he asks eagerly. 

When you look at him after you describe your life, your heart thumps loudly and wildly and you almost forget how to breathe because out of all the stories he takes interest in, he picks the one about you. He’s looking at you with so much curiosity and affection in his eyes. There’s something more there, but you’re scared to think it is what you think it is.

You wonder if that’s how you look at him.

“I don’t know,” you finally breathe out, “I’ll let you know one day when I know.”

He hmph softly, like a child who doesn’t get the answer he wants. “Will ya read it to me then?”

You pause because this implies that he’ll be around, he’ll be here to find out how your story unfolds. You want that so, so badly, but you settle for a quiet, “Maybe.”

He seems to be pleased enough with your answer. His hand is playing with yours, and you find that he is gradually becoming more and more touchy as time goes on. There’s a crease in his brows that makes you wonder what he’s thinking so hard about. There is an unspoken tension between the two of you, and you’re not sure if you want to break it. What you guys have right now is fragile, and you’re scared that if you say anything it will shatter. You don’t think he wants to address this either because he just doesn’t seem to have the time or will to commit to anything with you. You are okay with this, you think, because it is what you expected, but it still sends a pang to your heart. 

Surprisingly, he does address this though. He always wears his emotions on his sleeve and his every reaction is always on his face, and it makes you appreciate him because he is always surprisingly honest, albeit blunt sometimes. 

“I like ya, but let’s not fall in love.” 

The statement comes out straightforward, and it almost catches you by surprise. 

“What do you mean?” you ask softly, head tilted to the side and hand tugging slightly at his because sometimes his intentions don’t come across well with his blunt words.

He looks at you with that same something in his eyes that you’re scared to identify. His eyebrows scrunch together as if he’s trying to formulate the words to express his feelings. “The word love feels too constricting,” he eventually mutters. 

“Should we stop this then?” you ask quietly, retracting your hand hesitantly.

He stares at you like he’s confused, and you find it a little difficult to look him back in the eye. Well, honesty is always the best policy, so if he’s honest with you, you might as well be honest with him.

“Because I like you,” you admit softly. 

His mouth drops into a small ‘o’, and you think this is an awful moment for your soulmate to have such a rapidly beating heart because you almost think it’s your own, almost hope that it’s Atsumu and it’s his heart that’s beating like this. 

“What we have now is fun, but I don’t think it’s fair if I’m the only one falling,” you add on quietly. 

“I like ya,” he repeats as he grabs your hand, a glint of desperation in his eyes, “But I just can’t promise a tomorrow.” 

You hum in acknowledgment before you meet his eyes again, and there are flashes of too many emotions. You pull back your hand slowly, “I understand.” 

You really do because there’s something so scary about falling, about the unknown, about not knowing the ending. You know he can’t promise tomorrow because he lives for now, but when you are living in now, you can’t help but think about tomorrow. You can’t help but want him to be there for tomorrow, for the days after, for as long as you can foresee. Maybe you are also holding back to prevent yourself from falling deeper too, you think, so you just settle for leaving this in more than friends with benefits and less than lovers as it is now. Just as those words leave your mouth, his brown eyes dull in defeat and he gets up to leave. 

“It was fun,” he tells you on his way out.

“It was,” you agree.

He looks back, but you’re too afraid to meet his eyes, so you settle for an awkward smile as you pull the blanket around you, desperately trying to cling onto the warmth he’s leaving behind. 

You’re unsure if your heartache and tears are from your soulmate or you, but all you can do is muffle the sound of your sobs into your blanket as you breathe in the last of him. 

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

You end up taking up more hours at the animal shelter, and you begin writing out the thoughts inside your head. It’s kind of therapeutic because you can weave together a world, a reality that’s not yours. Sometimes, you are just staring at a blank page on the screen because you don’t have it in you to write, but you just end up trying to type out your incoherent thoughts anyways because it feels like it’s a way to get it off your chest, because it feels like you can live somewhere else as someone whose heart isn’t constantly in pain. 

And, if your mind and fingers are preoccupied with creating, typing out a story then there are fewer chances that you end up thinking about brown eyes and dyed blond hair and smile brighter than the sun, fewer chances you end up texting him the thoughts inside your head and the feelings inside your heart. 

It doesn’t work though because you find that all your stories have some parts of him in there. The protagonist that you unconsciously modeled after him, the love interest with his passion for life, the best friend with his embarrassing tendencies, the villain with his hunger for more, everything comes back to him. 

You try not to think about the constant dull heartache and mild confusion that resides in your heart. You try to not mind the fact that there’s a constant hope somewhere in the back of your mind that whenever your phone lights up, it’s a message from him, and the tightness of your heart when it isn’t.

You wonder if he feels the same way.

It’s a Saturday night, and usually, you’d ask if your roommate wants to hit the club with you. Then you realize Atsumu just had a game in Tokyo, and you always somehow end up bumping into him at clubs. You only wrap yourself in your blanket once again as you curl up in a ball. You feel a little woozy like you’ve had too much alcohol, and your head is throbbing. Your soulmate has been drinking a lot in the past month, you think, and it’s a little crazy because this past month without Atsumu has been a little bit of a new low for you too. You almost hope that your theory about Atsumu being your soulmate is wrong because you’re a little concerned if he’s drinking so much recently. 

When your phone lights up and vibrates, signaling a text message, you mindlessly grab it because you are expecting a text from your roommate.

But it is from Atsumu, and all the air in your lungs leaves you when you read his message.

“i miss u” 

You’re hesitant in responding. You want it to mean something, mean he actually misses you and cares about you, but you’re scared to get your hopes up. What if it isn’t even meant for you?

You only respond with a short, “are you drunk?” 

“maybr but i miss u all the samne” 

You don’t know how to respond, but he continues to send you texts before you can think of a response.

“i miss sseein u in my ned and dryin u hair aftet hsowers”

“i hera ur laugh wjen i makr a joke anf ur all i think fo when i ssemll books and inkk”

“i c u efvrywhere i go”

“i thik im in luv w u”

Your heart is drumming instantaneously to an irregular rhythm, and you exhale forcibly when you read his last message. The message becomes blurry on your screen as your tears drop. Your mind is feeling a million things and your heart cannot keep up with his confessions. He’s drunk right now, you think to yourself, so don’t take this to heart. Don’t think too much into it. Don’t.

“you’re drunk tsumu” 

You are about to type more when you see him send another message.

“can i cone c u”

“pls”

You see the three dots at the bottom of your screen before it stops. Shortly after, you see the three dots again and you wait in anticipation, subconsciously holding your breath as you bite your lip.

“Hello, this is Meian. Sorry about Atsumu. He’s drunk, but he is true in his feelings. I think he (and the rest of the team) would appreciate it if you could spare some time to talk to him. You don’t have to if you don’t want to or feel uncomfortable though.”

You don’t know what to think, but you are reluctant to see him. “What is the point of love if it doesn’t consume you?” echoes in your mind. You remember wanting to be absorbed in love, to find passion that makes you feel alive, and you find that in Atsumu. You realize you can’t keep holding back like this if you want to live, and you’ve always wanted an adventure and he is your greatest one. He is someone you are willing to fall for, even if you aren’t his 120%, because he makes you feel like you are 120%. You take a deep breath and begin typing.

“okay. where are you guys?”

Meian drops you a pin, and you realize it’s the park you two always pass by on the way back from the club. You fight the slight dizziness in your head as you get up to put on your black coat with gold trims that oddly reminds you of his jersey and head out. Your heart is running at a million miles per hour, but the burn in your lungs as you breathe in the cold air oddly gives you a sense of calmness and clears your head. 

You are not sure what you want from this - you do, but you don’t want to say it aloud because  what if you jinxed it. You are trying to calm your raging heart as you near his location. Your head is getting clearer and clearer, and you wonder if your soulmate is finally sobering up. 

You arrive at a park shortly after. You see Atsumu slump on a bench, arm over his eyes as if he’s contemplating his life. You see some of his teammates around him, Meian and Bokuto sitting on either side of him, Hinata crouching in front of him, and Sakusa standing close by but not in their proximity, saying something you cannot make out. When Bokuto spots you, his golden eyes light up under the lamplight and wave you over vigorously. The rest of the team follows, but all you can focus on is Atsumu raising his arm slightly to peek at you. 

Sakusa is the first to approach you, and he nods as a greeting. You nod back, and his voice is even, albeit frustrated, you think, as he says, “Please talk some sense into this idiot.” 

Your throat dries, but you nod again nevertheless. “I’m not sure if anyone can talk anything into him,” you offer with a dry chuckle. 

He sighs in agreement before he looks at you with something akin to sympathy in his eyes. “Good luck.” 

Bokuto comes up as Sakusa leaves. His good-natured eyes and energetic smile energizes you, and it momentarily brings a small smile to your face.

“Hey!! Thank goodness you’re here! Tsumtsum’s been in a slump ever since you stopped hanging around. He’s a good guy!” 

“Yeah!” Hinata’s voice chirps in, eyes bright and smile even brighter, “He’s a little troublesome, but he’s a good guy.” 

The two of them look like they are about to continue saying more when Meian comes and places a hand on both of their heads and ruffles their hair a little to stop their tracks. It’s kind of sweet, and it warms your heart a little bit because it looks like a dad calming down his children. 

“Good to see you here. As they said, Atsumu is a good kid, but I’m sure you already know that,” Meian says with a small knowing smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“I do,” you admit softly and return his smile. 

“Alright, well we were just here to make sure he got here okay. Here are our numbers if you don’t want to deal with him anymore,” Meian laughs softly.

You whisper a soft thank you before your eyes flicker to where Atsumu is sitting. He is still slumped over, though you can see the red in his cheeks and the tip of his ears. It’s kind of adorable, and it makes you smile, but your feet feel glued to the ground when you want to step forward. You know you told yourself it’s okay to embrace these feelings, to fall, but it doesn’t make you any less afraid. Your brain is prepared but your heart is still scared. 

As if the trio senses your uncertainty, Hinata starts, “Tsumtsum’s an honest guy, so he wouldn’t say anything he doesn’t mean!” 

Bokuto nods his head vigorously and cheers you on. “Yeah!! Go for it!!” 

Meian just pats your shoulder and ushers the two with him as he walks forward. “Go.”

You inhale a deep breath and nod, feeling like they just gave you wings to move forward. “Thank you.” 

They laugh it off before they walk off, and you can still make out some of their conversations - something about making Atsumu treat them some A1 wagyu steaks and “oooh, what about all you can eat BBQ!” next time. 

With newfound confidence, you walk towards the bench where Atsumu is sitting. He peeks at you from under his arm again but doesn’t say anything otherwise. You take a seat next to him, leaving some space in between despite the cold weather enveloping you. The two of you sit in silence for a minute, and it’s so quiet that you feel like you can hear your pulsing heart. You stare at the evening sky and take in the stars that no longer seem like they twinkling in disappointment. 

He tugs the end of your sleeve, and this pulls you out of your reverie. “I wasn’t lyin’,” he says softly. You can smell the alcohol in his breath and hear the slight slur in his voice, but he sounds genuine and exposed. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you silently admit. 

His fingers on the ends of your sleeve make their way into your cold hand, instantly starting a fire on your hands and burning into your heart. “I just want ya.” 

Your head snaps to look at him, and for the first time in a month, you’re really looking at him. You see his honest and hopeful brown eyes, face red from the winds or the alcohol or from being so raw, and form tense, almost as if he’s scared to hear the answer. You miss seeing him, being next to him, being with him. 

“I thought you didn’t want to fall in love,” you respond faintly, almost inaudibly because he is holding your hand and it sets your soul ablaze in a way that you only feel when you’re with him. You’ve wanted to hear those words for so long because you’re absolutely in love with him and you’re scared to get your hopes up only to have them crushed again. 

“I didn’t,” he admits honestly, “But it was too late. I see traces of ya everywhere even when ya aren’t there - in the crowds, at coffee shops and bookstores, at home when I’m back after a long day. Even when I close my eyes, I can see yer dumb smile and hear yer cute laugh, and it drives me insane.” 

You smile as you whack him lightly with your other hand. “My smile isn’t dumb!”

“It makes me dumb, so it’s dumb,” he argues with a pout, but his pout fades into a smile that matches your own. 

“That makes no sense, dummy,” you whack him softly again. You are almost afraid to process the latter of his statements because your heart is pounding so hard you can’t focus. You don’t miss the softness in his eyes or the affectionate smile when he’s looking at you, the gentleness and warmth of his hands as he’s holding yours. 

“I think I was already in love with ya,” he confesses softly and squeezes your hand. 

You can only stare at him. You feel a sudden rush of heat and excitement, of longing finally answered, of magic and love that sparkles and fills your heart and down to the depths of your soul. The words you never thought you would hear from him, the feelings you never thought would be returned, is right here. He is right here. Your heart is on fire, and you’re so hot it feels like you’re melting despite the cold weather. You feel like you’re on top of the world.

“I love you,” you whisper hesitantly as you search his eyes, not wanting to scare him off. You know he is a free spirit, and he doesn’t want and shouldn’t be tied to anything he doesn’t want to. When you only find the same look he gave you in his eyes, you can now finally put a name to the emotion: love. It gives you more confidence to squeeze his hand back and continue. “I love you with all my soul, with everything I have in me, from the beginning until the end of everything.”

Your heart beats madly and irrevocably, and for a moment you’re not sure if that’s your soulmate’s heartbeat or your own. You can only disorientedly stare at him, and he takes this moment to take your shaking hand and place it on his heart. You feel the rapid pace of his heart, and your accelerated heartbeats sync together in beats. His thumb gently brushes against your knuckles, and you find that this is a reality you don’t want to escape.

“It’s the same,” he affirms, easily and unquestionably. 

“It’s the same,” you repeat slowly, words breathe out airily, and you are still a little in disbelief. “Looks like I stole your heart, huh?” you laugh softly. 

“It was yer’s for the taking,” he replies honestly with a grin. 

The distance between the two of you is gone, and you bask in his warmth. Your heart feels absolutely at peace and in love, and you’re wondering if your soulmate is feeling the same thing. 

“You know,” you start, voicing out a theory you’ve had for a while, “Sometimes I think you’re my soulmate.” 

He stares at you dumbly. “Huh, ya know, I’ve been thinking the same thing for a while too. I just wanta sleep sometimes after a long day, but then I suddenly feel excited and caffeinated and then want to cry in the middle of the night. There’s no one else I know who’s like this except for ya because I know ya do this when ya write the stories inside yer head.” 

You stare at him. You don’t realize that he notices these small things about you, that he watches the way your face contours into a smile or falls into tears when you invest yourself in your stories. You can only smile wholeheartedly. “No one else has so many embarrassing moments that it makes  me  embarrassed and want to hide in a hole.” 

“What!” he exclaims and adamantly insists, “I’m always cool and suave!” 

“Uh, yeah, that ain’t it chief,” you retort with a grin. “You’re kinda embarrassing.” 

He puffs his cheeks and pouts. You smile as you poke his cheek. He’s so cute. When his eyes meet yours again, your world stills. He is handsome, you think, as he leans closer to you. There’s something magical about this moment, and when he finally kisses you this time, delicately and hesitantly almost like he’s afraid and uncertain to, it feels different from the lustful, passionate kisses at night. It feels softer, indulgent, and it sparks a fire in your soul, like neon lights in a world gray, like summer in December, like you’ve been consumed wholly by love. When you finally separate for air, all you can do is mutter an airy, “Again.”

He swiftly kisses you again, and you kiss once, twice, until all you can think about in this moment is him.

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

You are writing your graduation project when you hear loud footsteps behind you. The scent of spices and soft cinnamon hits your nose before strong arms wrap around your torso. Blond hair tickles the side of your face as Atsumu rests his chin on your shoulders. 

“Good morning,” you greet softly. It’s still early in the morning, and you’re a little surprised he is awake before his first alarm for his morning run.

“Mornin’, love. Whatcha doing?” he asks as he stifles a yawn, voice still groggy. 

“Finishing a long-overdue story,” you hum out in response, your eyes never leaving your computer and fingers still on the keyboard. 

You continue to work as Atsumu holds you, and for a moment, you think he must have fallen back asleep because he’s so quiet. That idea quickly disappears as he kisses your cheek, his stubble tickling your skin. When you laugh lightly and swat him away, he groans out in frustration from the lack of attention and buries his head in the crook of your neck. 

You only laugh again, “I’m almost done, Tsumu.”

He whines in response before he lifts his head and settles his chin on your shoulder again. He quiets, and you can feel his eyes following the movement of your fingers as you type. 

“Whatcha writing about?” he asks curiously, eyes now glancing at the words on the screen.

“The girl who felt like she had nothing,” you hum softly, a little distracted. “Then a dumb idiot came and made her realize she had everything all along.”

“Does it have a happy ending?” he asks, curiously, playfully, and almost shyly. He remembers you telling him about this story, about you from days long ago.

You stop typing momentarily and turn to meet his brown eyes and a soft smile. In moments like these, you wonder how you are so lucky. Your heartbeats sync together, and in his eyes, you find the passion you’ve always dreamed of, the 120% you’ve never thought you could be, and the love you’ve always wanted that consumes your heart and soul.

“I love you,” you breathe out. 

His enthusiastic smile and loving eyes already answer you silently before he says it, but when he whispers “I love ya too”, it feels exciting yet peaceful, full of contradictions, but it feels so soft, whole, complete, and you want to live in this moment forever.

“A love like ours doesn’t have an ending, dummy.” The corners of your eyes crinkle in joy as you lean your forehead against his.

“Good,” he responds, hand tucking the loose strands of your hair from your bun behind your ear, “That means I get to keep ya forever.”

You hum in agreement. The thought of your bucket list from high school that you started to find fun briefly flashes in your mind, and you are glad to know that you don’t need things to check off to find fulfillment because you already have all that you want right here. But, you admit, you are glad you can finally cross out the final item of falling in love and being loved in return because you find that in Atsumu. He pushes you to find your passions, to fulfill your dreams, and he is your home regardless of whether you succeed or not. Whatever it is, whenever it is, you know he loves you all the same because he always looks at you like  this , like he can see the stars in your eyes, like you hang the moon up every night, like you’re brighter than the sun.

“Yeah, forever sounds good.”

.✫彡.✫彡.✫彡.

stole your heart, and I got lucky. stole your heart, and it was mine in a million ways, for a million days.

end notes: pls don’t ask me how this soulmate au works. i don’t know either.