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nicohii · 1 year

Text

in my room.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Genre: Angst. Slice of life. Roommates to mutual pining. Timeskip.

Tags: Oikawa haves a fit but works his way through it.

Summary: you're an exchange student. he's a foreign athlete who decided he needed a roommate. 11 months with oikawa: staring at ceilings and communicating through nods and heads buried in shoulders. inspired by in my room - chance pena and that one tiktok edit of fleabag confession.

You came into his unit sometime in the last month of the year. From a different country, with her suitcases and baggage. You both didn't really pay each other so much attention. Just enough to be civil roommates. The normal exchange student and her host spiel, the common tenant finding his unit a little bit colder and lonelier that he put up a lease for a new housemate kind of thing.

You tell him your name. A distinct accent in the last syllable. Something that you both differ, since his accent made it sound like slang, considering he, himself, came from a different country. But it’s your name all the same. He called himself Oikawa Tooru.

"Whatever feels best with you works." he smiles.

"Tooru sounds nice. Can I call you that?"

"That can work too." He offers a kind smile. A comforting one to a foreigner in a different land, scared to be alone for the first time. His smile is attractive. You can tell that it’s one that makes people fall to their knees with hands clutching their hearts and heat crawling up their cheeks. But to you, at that time, it was a warm welcome associated with a new home.

Shake hands. That is that.

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The apartment's wall was cream. A cozy off-white unit, with brown carpeting. Heavy black doors that made a distinct bang and latch sound when you let them close by themselves.

His studio -- which he was mostly in half of the day when he was not training, (he was an athlete, apparently – in the national team no less), had black walls. You just saw it once, when he asked for your help to set up the wiring under his table. He was too big to fit under it. His fingers though elegant and slender yet calloused from his years of battery as a setter, were still a little bit chubbier to fit in the small spaces between the edge of his table and the wall.

Your room had the same color as the apartment itself. Cream. Off-white. Bland. It often reminded you of your room from home, it's white though. With gray sheets and golden curtains. A hole in the window screen with uneven floors. This room though-- in Tooru’s unit, is smooth. Cream walls, white blinds, fluffy floors.

His room had blue walls. With silk sheets, sometimes they were cotton when the others were on the washer— with a white and teal jacket draped on one of the chairs. Aoba Johsai.

It's funny he said, he used to have red walls back home.

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Most of the time he was funny without even trying. There was one time he bought a television set and it took him three tries to get a functioning one.

You were not so sure, and maybe Tooru was too. When you started calling him not by his name but just a soft and sweet hey, or when he started hanging out with you a little more. When the soreness of his muscles or the homesick feeling in his stomach becomes a little less when he comes home to see you rummaging through the fridge, arranging the leftovers from your cooking in chronological order so he could take some with him in training or eat it in the morning. When his usual alone walks during his day offs became linked arm slow walks with you in silence. Sometimes talking about which pubs to try next, which kind of liquor in your country fucked you up the most that you can’t wait to have him try. Or talk about the food he could not stand.

You were not sure how you found yourself in his room when he was having a fit. You learned that he had this thing when he gets frustrated, he explodes. In the times when he finds it unbearable and tiring to play the part of the loveable pretty boy and just wants to unleash all his frustrations and anger in the world, and when overworking himself isn’t enough, he just goes boom.

Yelling but not asking you to leave. He hates it, he thinks it’s an ugly part of him. Something that he had locked up for a long time even back at home. Only to be unleashed behind closed doors and shared with just his closest friends. He expects you to leave in the middle of it all. To pack your bags or to keep yourself in your side of the house.

But you look at him not with any tinge of what he expects. Not even with pity. You look at him with what looks like relief. Of what? He tries to ask. You just shrug, I would be more surprised if you didn’t, Tooru. C’mon, nobody’s that perfect. Besides, that rage deserves to be let out. And you don’t leave his side while he’s at it. You listen to all his angry musings, and you just sit there until he finally spends his energy yelling in rage, and he'll calm down. He'll curl up in bed and you'll leave, quietly with no judgment. Put the kettle on and make tea. He will drink it later when he’s feeling better. For now, you will leave him with his well-needed space. You retreat to your room.

There is a fresh pot of coffee when you come out that night. Black, no sugar – just how you make it. With your favorite mug cleaned on the side.

Thank you.

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Most of the time, you wear black. Regardless of the fucking Argentinean heat. It is cold. Compared to your hometown’s heat--and even then, you drink piping hot coffee. It is a story that somehow comes and goes in his mind. It’s random, but somehow, he keeps on remembering that.

It is rare that you find yourself like this, in an outdoor café in the middle of the town square. Pouring rain, with Oikawa Tooru silent in the seat in front of you. Something is wrong you can tell. He likes telling you stories. Likes telling stories about this show he's watching, this new game plays the team is trying, upcoming games, crazy fan stories, his mom, his dad, and his friends –not today though. But it is fine, you'll wait until he is ready. For now, you'll settle with observing that he also likes wearing gray.

A gray sweater, in a gray café, in gray weather.

He moves to sit next to you, before the both of you decide to leave. It’s your umbrella, your sure. You can tell by the color. The heat from his arm seeps into you, you can feel it despite the layers of your coat. He does not want to talk, but he wants to stay close.

It's fine we can stay this way, you try to tell him as you nudge him with your arm. You doubt he knows what it meant, much less even feeling it in the first place. Given the size difference.

There is a light smile on his lips, and he nods.

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Most of the time, Oikawa Tooru is horny. A little bit oversexualized, but normal nonetheless. He makes sex jokes, and shares his experiences and you can only listen in shock, wonder, intrigue and sometimes in amusement.

But there are times... there are times you can tell when he's trying to pretend everything's fine. Because Tooru is your friend, and you know that you are far from what gets him going-- what gets him hard.

So, you know that something is wrong when the silent walk ends up with you in his room, his sheets in disarray. And the both of you sit together on the edge of his mattress. He is silent, in deep thought. He can't even look at her before he makes a move to take off his shirt and you grab his arm.

His shirt is never taken off, his lips never kissed, but his eyes teary.

"You know you can talk to me, Tooru Whatever it is, I can listen."

And you are reminded that the ceilings as well are colored cream. Cream with a light bulb and white cornice. You recount the details as you let him sob on your shoulder. Wrapping both of his long arms around one of yours.

Right. Right arm. So small compared to his.

You can't help but think how at this moment, he feels so small. You can't help but think that not even when she can feel his tears on her shirt. When it's bleeding into her skin. When he sobs, his deep voice in broken hiccups. Saliva almost mixes with snot. But it's fine.

The tears in his eyes become prominent against the collar of your shirt, cloth wet that it sticks to your skin. You just stay there and let him sob his heart out against your shoulders. He wonders how in the world did that happen, to find this deep level of trust to share this level of vulnerability between two beings coming from different ends of the world, meeting in the middle.

We can just stay like this, you try to tell him again...with a nudge.

The hug on your arms grows tighter; a nod against your shoulder.

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You are in the same town square as the café, on a bright day. When it's not too hot, not too cold. Not too sunny, not cloudy either.

And Tooru is doing better. You can tell. He smiles better now. And you know that even if he may have his fit every now and then, his smile tells you he can handle it now. Alone.

And maybe that is it.

Maybe that is why as you approach him, with snacks in your hand that you bought from a store that sold snacks from your country, ones you wanted him to try... you can't bring yourself to look at his eyes.

Even if he looks so happy and at peace now.

How can 11 months feel like a decade? How can you know someone for a while and feel like you've been with them for a lifetime?

It's a shame, really. Could have been a year. You scoff at your idea. You deny it. It’s easier than telling him that what would happen next is hard for you too. Even more than him.

There is a suitcase beside the bench. He keeps looking at it the way you look at him. A forced smile, but understanding knowing.

Ah. We both can't look at each other's eyes.

"Want to go for a short walk?" You try to ease the silence. Try to start a light conversation between two friends, praying out there that he does not hear the crack in your voice.

We can just stay like this, he tells you through a nod. Like those silent nudges before. No words. Both of you just seem to know.

He wears black now too. Similar to the ones you wore all those other times. A black coat, a black shirt, black jeans, and black boots. Well, would you look at that? This is the first time you saw him wear black... at a party... he was also saying goodbye. Was it a teammate who was switching teams? A retiring coach? You couldn’t remember. All you know is that he asked you to come with him because he didn’t want to be alone and he didn’t want to go with some random partner either. So, he brought you.

...and it finally makes sense.

Whose suitcase is it.

You sit on the other end of the bench, a space between. Just a suitcase in between. The gray cobble road, the black lamp post, and an alleyway in front between two establishment walls. The both of you just stare ahead.

Oikawa Tooru makes no attempt to move and touch you, you don't either.

"You can make it now." You say staring at the floor. Apparently cobbled stones look like their bursting, their convex tops embossing themselves.

"Yeah." Oikawa Tooru responds. Staring at the wall in the alleyway. He remembers this is where he took a picture and used it on his profile on a specific social networking site.

"I think...I loved you." You whisper. You almost don’t want to say it. Don’t want to admit it. But that's the thing, isn’t it? You don’t get to heal from something without first admitting that you're sick in the first place. You don't get to let go without admitting you had it.

You finally try to look at his eyes. Their brown. With thick brows and almost like a scar in between. His stubble and mustache are starting to grow again, not that thick but enough to make a silhouette of where they were before. But you— you know where they are even if they aren’t there, he let you shave them in the first place. There's a faint smile on his lips.

"It'll pass," he says so softly. And you want to fool yourself if he's tearing up too, but you know that truthfully, you don’t know.

Because by the time he told you it'll pass, it's a blur. He is right.

You take the suite case.

The ceiling is white.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #hq oikawa #timeskip oikawa #timeskip oikawa angst #oikawa tooru #oikawa angst #oikawa tooru angst

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nicohii · 2 years

Text

overdue.

Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Genre: Angst. Hurt/Comfort: Childhood friends to lovers to exes to friends.

Tags: cheating (Bokuto cheats I’m sorry, however it’s important to know that both of you go to therapy), heartbreak, moving on.

Summary: you and me against the world." until both of you realize that perfect can only last for too long before it all falls apart and pinky promises are not enough to heal both of you. or in which you are Kuroo’s older twin and Bokuto’s bestfriend turned lover, until you’re not.

You always meet new friends through your twin brother, as much as it’s true that between him and you, he is the quiet one, still it’s still Tetsu who’s good at making new friends. Like the next-door neighbor kid who liked to play games, who once hid behind his mom’s legs like the both of you, now scammed into playing volleyball.

Between ages 6 and 7, it’s still through Tetsuro that you meet your would-then-be best friend.

He was almost as tall as you with a wide smile and a missing canine tooth. The first time you saw Bokuto, you straight up told him his hair reminded you of snow. Like Mount Fuji, you tell him, as your chubby fingers run through them. He lets you, after all he finds the act comforting, like when his sisters play with his hair.

It's between pinky promises and missing teeth, and between conversations through tin cans connected by a thin string that his dad made him specifically for the both of you, that an unspoken vow is exchanged. Me and you against the world. And suddenly, watching volleyball games in the backyards doesn’t seem boring anymore.

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You’re 12 and in a different middle school when you learn that there are times that Bokuto jogs alone even if its still club time, not because he wants to but because no one wants to join him when he runs the extra mile. Tetsuro had to physically hold you back before you could wreak havoc and give his middle school teammates a piece of your mind.

Bokuto believes it when you told him you just had the random urge to jog the next day when you catch up to him. He doesn’t ask you why you chose this specific route considering your school is in the opposite direction. He does ask though, why you were carrying two water bottles. It’s the same night that his sisters and his parents tease him about you and him ending up together in the nearest future.

“We’re best friends.” He retorts, mouth still full.

“Oh Kou, we were too. And here we are.” His mom smiles at him before grabbing his dad’s hand.

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The both of you are 17 when you have the courage to admit to yourself that his eyes remind you of stars. Two shiny suns enough to pull entire universes in them, and the first thing it pulled was you. In the quiet moments where his pinky finger finds yours, you are reminded of snowy mountain tops and the thought of first love. No one dares to state the obvious, but it’s there. It starts as a prickly feeling in the chest before it turns into a slow burn. Til' the snow melts into a flood that drowns you in your thoughts in the moments where all you can ever think about is the way he laughs, the way he smiles, how he somehow manages to curl up to himself in a small ball under the table or between pieces of furniture when he's not in the mood. Little pieces or him that falls in place with little pieces of you.

Because he's there. He always have been.

There when there's too much going on in your plate, so much so that everything spills over, dripping into little shards that wound the soles of your feet: Trying to act tough because heaven knows Tetsuro had enough of drowning out the sounds with pillows on his head, because if you break, he breaks too. He's there when the silence is drowning and everything feels cold, with his animated story telling and warm voice.

"It's going to be alright", he says. "You have Tetsuroo.... you have me."

“We are protagonists of the world.” He tells his team mates. You wonder if he knows that he is the protagonist of yours too.

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Bokuto is 18 when you find him alone, just before summer training camp ends, caught up in his own thought. It's one of those rare moments that he finds himself in needing a moment away from everyone else. His brows furrowed and mouth on a straight line. He doesn't even need to look up to know from the sound of footsteps that it's you, accustomed to the sound of it along the years.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't like myself..." he starts, pulling out pieces of grass beside the soles of his shoes. You sit next to him, you do nothing but listen.

“ I hear things too, you know. I keep thinking that maybe if I was better- smarter, then maybe I wouldn't get so coddled up all the time, I'm a captain... they can depend on me too..." the creases on his brows grows deeper.

"Who told you you aren't smart?" you play aimlessly along the seams of your school logo. Nekoma.

"First of all, I failed math, by the way. I forget how to spell words, I don't understand how some thins work... I even forget how to do cross shots..." I mean- I can go on..." he chuckles a little and a soft grin.

You take his nearest hand. It's big, calloused, with soft shades of red and blue. Thick, sturdy fingers, strong. Like they can take anything on and spike the dangers of the world off onto the other side of the court. But they grow tired too, in need of rest, and a little more confidence and trust, someone to share the weight from time to time.

"If numbers, knowing and remembering everything is what makes someone enough, then I don't think the smartest person in the world would be enough." you tell him.

"You're one of the most emotionally gifted person, I know. Kind, observant, strong, genius...." you poke his side, one of his ticklish spots and he flinches, laughing with a grin. He tries to stop you, but he cant, until his laughing out loud and the tips of his ears grow red. Until he tells you that you're right, that he's gifted in his own ways.

“You are enough, Kou."

He nods with an appreciative smile. "Thank you."

"Always welcome. Now, go and steal barbecue from Tetsuro."

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You are 19 and Bokuto finally takes your first kiss after you confessed to him that you have deep feelings for him. The palms of his hands carefully gathering the softness of your cheeks, its both gruff and soft at the same time, the perfect balance only Bokuto Koutarou is capable of. You can almost feel his lashes as he rests his forehead against yours. He grins when you tell him that you want to take the “you and me against the world” oath and make it forever.

You make a mental note to give Akaashi a thank you present later since it's him who assured you that your man does feel the same and that you shouldn’t be nervous. So you did: took your heart and finally held it out on a silver platter for him.

He takes it.

His mom gives you a knowing smile when he took you home with him for dinner that very same day.

“I told you so.”, her eyes seem to tell the both of you. Your twin brother takes pride in telling the story how both of you came to be, claiming that he was the great match maker and that maybe he should start a business in it. You laugh at that, and the pinky locked with yours becomes a whole palm that envelopes your hand.

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Bokuto Koutarou is 21 when he became an official member of MSBY Black Jackals and he feels like he’s on top of the world. A true protagonist of the world. He finally gets the career he always dreamt of, the career he worked so hard for, a great set of friends, a family who is proud of him, and a loving relationship. He’s the luckiest man alive and he calls you first.

It’s that same year that he asks you to move in with him. His apartment is a walking distance from your university, you can live with him for free while you study. Both of you can make your dreams and be together, it’s destiny he tells you. And you believe him. Because as much as happy-ever-afters are rare, they still exist. That both of you can watch the years of youth pass side by side, comfortably, together. Because that’s all that matters.

So, you move in with him.

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He is 24 when he starts to feel like something is missing. He’s in the starting line-up now and your own business is expanding. He’s often on away games and you’re often on business trips. But you make it work. He still smiles when he catches you slow dancing in the soft morning light, just a little after dawn as you make coffee and breakfast for two, in his shirt, in the rare days that both of your schedules line up. You still smile at him the exact same way you did all those years, it’s still you, he reminds himself.

But he does notice the missing butterflies in his stomach. He tries to shrug off the absence of that exciting hammering feeling in his chest that he feels with you before and covers it with a smile. He hopes you don’t notice.

You do.

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He is also 24, just fresh off from the Olympics that he feels those butterflies back, the same thrilling feeling, same hammering chest…but with a different person. He tries to tell himself that it’s the first and last time. Just a taste of forbidden waters to warm the bed. He cries as he tries to rid himself of whatever evidence that might hurt you the morning after, because the thought of your tear stained face pains him.

You welcome him that same morning with the same view of making breakfast for two and he tears up again. There is a falter in your smile, a little loose when you hug him, a little distance when you kiss him on the mouth. He knows that you know. But you don’t say a thing. Opting for the same smile but a whole new color of pain.

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You are 24 when you realize that the relationship is too perfect that it’s bound to fall apart. Because as much as the rose-colored lenses keeps sliding down your nose, you are quick enough to push them back up. He is his own person after all, so you settle to give him some space. Space to explore the world on his own, to enjoy his side of life, and to paint his side of the picture. Together doesn’t always mean in each other’s space after all. He deserves that too, you suppose. So, you let him.

You understand, you tell him. You have your own shortcomings too, always away, always in meetings, too focused on keeping your career afloat that maybe you have neglected him too. It takes two to tango so you keep your silence.

You keep your rose lenses on so the purple marks on his skin, that looks far from anything caused by a ball and more of lips, blend in the background so you can tell yourself that you don’t see them. You keep them so that you can mask the pitied looks of his and your friends whenever you show up alone in gatherings, and when he tends to forget telling you about his games. Even Akaashi asks you what happened, where it all went wrong…are you okay? All of which you answered with a well calculated answer. You are okay.

You’re not. It hurts like hell.

It takes you more than a few months and almost a year, even, to accept that fact that you need help. That giving him space isn’t enough. That somehow along the line you have become a glass ceiling, keeping him from the freedom he deserves but is too afraid of asking you for. And that kills you a little more. Because now you feel like it’s not love that’s making him stay. And you decide to pick yourself up piece by piece, start healing even before the final wound.

Maybe me and you against the world is coming to an end.

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The overdue conversation comes after the day Kenma proposed to his now fiancée. For some reason, Bokuto remembers it very clearly for someone who claims that he is, in all intents and purposes, 100% okay with it. He remembers you, still clad in your dress from last night sans the shoes, lost in thought as you nurse the now cold coffee in your hands, staring at the purple hues of the skyline in the early mornings.

He just came home. Even though the both of you went together, you insisted you weren’t feeling well. It's a win-win situation really. He loved parties. It's a space to expand social circles, as you called it. The purple bruises underneath his hips though, is something you need to know nothing about.

"Hey..." He calls out, it's hushed. It's soft. And sweet.

"Hey, hey, heyyyyy" you tease back, also a whisper, a small smile in your lips. For someone who seemed to be up early---or up all night---- you seemed to be in good spirits.

Bokuto takes a seat beside you, it's comforting he admits. Like falling in place at the right time or coming home after a long day. It surprises him, how he seems to be super observant today, specifically right now. He supposes it's from the remnants of last night’s mushy and romantic atmosphere.

"Coffee??? It's kinda cold though" you offer him your cup, eyes still fixed on the horizon. You try to gather your strength, to still your beating heart because after this, who knows when you'll get this close to him again.

Bokuto takes a sip, glancing over you before frowning a little. "Is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything right?"

You nod before looking at him with a deep breath. "Kou, I've been seeing a therapist lately."

The gray-haired man blinks, unsure. Before nodding. "And what did your therapist say?"

"Well, she said it's hard to get out of cycle that you find it comforting for a long time even if it's hurting you."

"Uhuh."

"Kou, you know that I love you right? But I want to ask you something and be honest about it."

"Okay." He straightens up, and turns to your frame.

"Kou, do you know that I know you're cheating? You know that it hurts right?" He doesn't miss the quiver in your lips and the search in your eyes, it's vulnerable, and this time he can't bring himself to lie. He owes you the truth, he knows that. You deserve that. He nods with closed eyes, lower lip chewed and hitched breath. This is it.

"Then why are you still with me?" He reaches for you small hands. They're thinner than he remembered. Frail. Still you, but different.

"Because I feel at home and safe around you."

"Not because you love me unconditionally?" your voice breaks a little, it's subtle and he wonders how he managed to pick it up.

"Is this the part where you choose yourself over me?" He asks, chewing his bottom lip, fingers unconsciously growing tighter around your smaller ones. You don’t miss the fact that he doesn’t answer your question. Because you know. In all those years that you have learned to memorize him, his heart and his soul, you know. Some words are better left unsaid.

"I'm sorry, Kou." You move in to hug him and he engulfs your small quivering form. It molds perfectly against him. Yet perfect can only last so much.

"Don't be, baby. It's about time." He kisses your forehead. Cheek mushed against the top of your head.

It's a clean break up, he tells himself. He helped you pack your things, helped you decide which ones to get. Helped you load your bags in your car. He remembers your sad smile and that one last wave before you drove away. Taking almost two decades of his life with you.

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It takes Bokuto a little more than 3 months to get the strength to accept the realization that he needs help too.

So, he goes to therapy. If you braved to do it, he can too. You'd be happy for him. It's the healthy thing to do and he is changing. It's good for him. He supposes this too, is long overdue.

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It takes him over 9 months to call you. It's for closure he tells himself. For rekindling of treasured relationships.

You pick up the phone after two rings.

"Hello?" He wonders what it means, the nostalgia in your voice seemed to have woken up in him.

"Hey hey hey..." He answers softly.

"Hey hey hey...." You answer back.

"How have you been?" He tries to break the ice.

"I'm good, Kou. What about you? Oh! Congratulations on your win this season by the way! Toshi said they had a hard time!"

Toshi. Right. How could I forget. That sends a pang across his chest. The thought of you with someone else. It's been a year and a part of him wants to feel betrayed, wants to ask you how? It's love that spent almost a lifetime in the making, two decades worth of building pillars of what was supposed to be home. But then again it's not your fault. It wasn't you who drove a wrecking ball in it. That of all people, it's you who deserved to be loved. It's a clean break up, he reminds himself of his own words.

"I'm good. (y/n)?"

"Hmmm?"

"I went to therapy too."

"That's great, Kou! I'm so proud of you!!!!"

He doesn't even realize his crying until he finds himself biting his lip. Tear drops on his kitchen counter. It hurts because you mean it. You're proud of him always have been. Not tinge of disdain in your voice, just genuine happiness for him and what he has become. No apprehension, no blame. You have moved on. And he knows he should too, it's been so long. He resigns to the fact that he misses you.

A lot.

"I want to see you. Are you coming to the reunion this Sunday?"

There is a thick silence in the other end, it takes him a while to figure out that you were talking to someone on the other line.

"I can't Kou. I have a thing coming up. But maybe we can arrange something?"

"Yeah sure! Of course, of course! If you don't mind me asking,... Where are you going this Sunday?"

"I'm flying to California."

"Business meeting?"

"No. Toshi's going to introduce me to his dad."

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The next time he sees you is almost a year and a half after you flew to California. When Tetsuro asked the two of you to help him to plan his proposal for his girlfriend and soon-to-be fiancé. And as ironic as it sounds, it’s his sister.

Tetsuro settles on choosing your suggestion- a family heirloom. It's an antique ring from Grandma Kuroo that he had cleaned. Bokuto has a growing suspicion that this is the younger twin's form of help to get the both of you to talk together again. He can never be thankful enough. It's working at the very least.

You sit along the riverside bench alone, waiting for your damned brother to make reservations for the 15th on the restaurant from across the street when Bokuto approaches you with two cups of coffee.

"You know, I can never thank your sister enough for the light she brought back in Tetsu's eyes." You start, smiling at him as you take the cup from him.

"Heh. For some reason, I can't imagine anyone else for him either besides him. You think they'll have twins too?"

You purse your lips in amusement before sipping your coffee. "Triplets."

"Really?!"

"Yeah. Bet." you laugh. Slapping your knee.

There's a thick silence. Before Kou glances at you. You have both grown old through the time both of you were apart, but a there is a lot more lighter air around you. Floating. Happier.

Without him.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t say he was hurt. Because he is. The weight of you and me against the world feels heavy against his chest now more than ever that you’re here. He's lost count of the countless times he reminds himself that it's the both of you who decided that oath wasn't enough, that it's the two of you who decided to have a fresh start, a clean slate, but part of him hates that his feels heavier...because he's the first to let go.

"Did you ever thought about it? When we were together? Kids?" The words escape his mouth faster than he had thought about it. But the idea of small children with his eyes and your laugh has been haunting him lately. Chubby little toddlers with your smile and missing front teeth with snowy mountaintops of hair.

"Maybe, once."

"Triplets too?

"I can't handle three of you, Kou." You laugh. It's funny he thinks, how in the span of your years together, he never brought up the thought of raising a family with you, until now.

"(y/n)?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to raise a family?" He wonders if you can sense where this is going. If this is still one of those things where you forgive, where you give another chance and he takes it and promise to do better. Only this time he promises to deliver.

"Of my own? Of course."

"With me?" He asks and you freeze before his eyes. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion before you straighten up and look at him. Brows furrowed in worry.

"I take it it's not with me then?" He tries to laugh it off.

"I used to. But not anymore." You answer truthfully.

"Face your fear", his therapist tells him. "Be honest but also accept the truth that there are things in life beyond our control and we need to accept that."

"Not with me." He repeats.

"(Y/n), d-do you think that if I didn't....do the things I did to you in the past....do you think we could have been---" his voice breaks and that breaks your heart too. It's him after all. And Bokuto Koutaro will always have a special place in your heart.

"Kou, stop. Don’t do this. To yourself. To me. This is unfair." You desperately try to blink away the tears. Because even after all these years, you can’t bear to see him hurt. Because even though you have moved on, you still care. Maybe not as much as before, but you still care. He’s still the same Koutaro you grew up with, the same best friend you exchanged secrets through tin-can telephones with, the same pinkies you linked with.

"You're right. I'm sorry. For everything." He smiles, it soft, it's sad but the apology, is way overdue.

"I've long forgiven you, Kou. I'm sorry too." You pat his back.

"I heard he asked you to marry him."

"He did Kou. There's no ring yet, but he uh, he asked me. My grandparents too. He's a good man, Kou."

"Did he give you an antique family heirloom for a ring too? You know, you're a hopeless romantic that way, like your brother." He jokes. You laugh along with him.

"No. His mother insists on giving her ring to me, though. But he is too insistent to buy me a new one. Mind you, I told him I’m okay with no rings at all…but what can I say, it’s his paycheck and as long as he buys it from my store.” Bokuto figures that this must be an inside joke between you and Ushijima considering your heartfelt snort and laugh hard enough that it brought tears. The sight makes him smile.

"He really loves you huh?"

"He does.”

"You love him too?"

"Very much."

Kou swallows. Licking his lips before nodding, chewing his lower lip and thinks about the things he wishes he could say.

'(y/n), I don't know what to do sometimes. I know that I should be happy...even if there are days that I wish that was me. Even if there are nights when I think about how that could've been me.' Love and comfort are two different things, that’s true. But he wished he realized that he didn’t have to choose earlier. That the absence of the thrill and butterflies and adrenaline, that the routine and the stillness of it all didn’t mean the love was gone, after all, still waters run deep. He just wished he understood sooner, the depth of your love, he wished he could’ve made you feel his.

Could have.

Because he was a protagonist of a chapter that has already ended. And now you’re happy with a new adventure and he can never bring himself to blame you because of all people, you deserve your happy ending.

He looks over at the older Kuroo again. There was a time where he teased and called you his mom, because you take care of him the same way. There was a time that you, yourself, even joked that maybe you looked like his grandma. And maybe you do, because Grandma Bokuto was happy, 82 years old and still living with the man she loved, the man she married. Contented. Warm. Happy.

And maybe that's the closure he needed. That this isn't one of those times where you give him a chance and he takes it. The chance was in his hand and before he knew it was there it was gone. That's life, he guesses. Filled with late realizations and what -could- have-been’s. Was this what you felt like before? But maybe that's what love is after all, to make amends and to make peace with the happiness each person finds. Maybe he'll get there too, someday.

"(y/n)?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm happy that you're happy."

You smile at him, it’s the soft ones that he used to see in quiet hours of the day. When time is slow and the weather is perfect and you both feel safe. The one you offered him the very first time when your twin brother introduced you to him. You offer him your pinky… one last time.

A goodbye that is too, long overdue.

Life and truth has finally caught up to the both of you, and he can finally breath. He thanks you. He thanks the universe that it’s you.

I’m happy that there was you and me against the world, even if it was just for a while.

Notes:

#bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto #haikyuu angst #angst #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto angst #ushijima x reader #cheating #heartbreak #moving on

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