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em1e · 1 year

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⠀ ⠀ ༝ i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. take me back to the night we met.

⠀ ⠀バジ // THE NIGHT WE MET ⠀ ༝ ༝ baji keisuke ⠀ ༝ ༝ 3.5k words ⠀ ༝ ༝ angst xp things were looking a little to happy here ⠀ — baji hasn’t changed. won’t. not for you, not for anyone else.

༝ march 16, 2011

moving his stuff into boxes shouldn’t sting as much as it does.

old t-shirts, framed pictures, small gifts exchanged for anniversaries . . . a stupid necklace that took weeks for you to take off after you initiated the no-contact.

it all goes into cardboard boxes, taped shut and shoved into the farthest corner of your apartment waiting to be picked up. you leave a text to the now unsaved number saying everything was packed, and sit on your couch anxiously waiting for a reply.

the ding of your phone makes you jump, realizing your apartment was much quieter than you thought. you pull your lip between your teeth, unsure if it’s worth it to actually check it. it’s been over a month, your previous message ingrained in your memory.

please don’t message me again. read 2/10/11

you hold your breath and quickly flip your phone face-up. like ripping off a band-aid, you remind yourself, though your eyes are screwed shut. it’s not like the message would even be marked as read through your homescreen, but the anxiety coursing through your veins is relentless.

forcing yourself to exhale, you tap the screen twice to wake it up, and read the message as quickly as your eyes allow. it’s easy, given all it reads is an “Okay.” followed by a thumbs up.

that itself leaves you with a pit in your stomach, bunching your shirt in your fists and taking a minute to just sit and breath. nothing bad would come out of this, right? no arguments, no reviving the flame, nothing that shouldn’t be allowed. he’ll grab the boxes, pile them some way onto his bike, and leave without a word.

you’re trying to convince yourself baji could have changed, in some way, in the last month. that he’d finally learned when to shut his big mouth and keep it that way.

a small part of you nags yourself. it’s a stupid thing to think. baji hasn’t changed. won’t. not for you, not for anyone else. but that part of you still hopes, prays that maybe he has.

the knock that follows a few hours later startles you, well aware he was coming at some point, but not when. you wipe your hands on your sweats, pausing your prep for dinner to go unlock the door. you close your eyes for a second, take in a small breath and exhale. like ripping off a band-aid. you twist the knob and pull the door open.

a mop of black hair fills your vision, and the sight of him leaves your chest twisting with an ache. you stare at each other for a second, before you’re taking a step back wordlessly, suddenly very awkward in your own home.

he comes in and looks around, eyes scanning over the little changes he can notice - the framed pictures you guys took are missing from your walls and it makes the room look so much emptier. they snap to you when you reach to anxiously play with the necklace he gave, very aware of any movement your figure seems to make, and a ghost of a frown falls onto his lips when your fingers find nothing to grab. you try to play it off as scratching at your chest, but he knows just as well as you do.

he’s always been good at reading you.

you clear your throat, nodding to the corner where three boxes sit neatly stacked together, “everything’s over there.”

your own voice sounds foreign to you. so soft, quiet, as if you breaking the silence would be the end of anything and everything you’ve been building back up since things ended.

he’s almost surprised, seeing that he left so much behind when he thought he’d packed everything he had. part of him supposes it’s other miscellaneous things the two of you have gathered over the years, and he’s glad chifuyu at the very least let him bring the van from the pet shop so he wouldn’t have to make multiple trips back on his bike.

he grabs two of the boxes, stacking them on top of one another, and looks to the third, then to you, as a silent request for assistance. you pull your lip between your teeth, ultimately deciding the quicker they’re out of your apartment, the quicker he will be, too. the quicker you can go back to trying to forget about him.

with one box in hand, you pull open the door and shut it behind you while he leads the way down your apartment’s steps and out to the parking lot. he opens the vans door by himself, pushing the boxes into the floorboard, then takes the one in your hands. his fingers brush against yours when he does it, and the action has you pulling your hand back faster than intended, leaving him to readjust his grip quickly or risk the box falling completely out of his grasp.

the look he sends you has you shrinking in on yourself, despite there being no hostility in it. just disappointment, followed by sadness from the way his lip turns down. he shoves that box on top of the other two, and turns to face you.

“listen,-” he starts, but you're quick to stop whatever rabbit hole he plans to go down.

“don’t. please don’t.”

“you don’t even know what i'm gonna say.”

“i don’t need to.” your arms curl in around yourself, not looking at him. like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. trying to disappear on him. he frowns at the thought.

“don’t do that.” he says quietly, nails digging into the palm of his hand.

you shouldn’t ask. you know how it’ll end, but you can’t help but want some form of interaction with him for the last time, even if it means it ends with you far more hurt than before. “do what?”

“act like you don’t give a fuck, or like you don’t want to try and fix this or like you don’t-” he stops when you push him back by his shoulders, shaking your head, and despite it barely moving him, it has his teeth clenching and eyes narrowing. he grabs your wrists when you go in for a second shove, ignoring the way you try to pull yourself away.

“i’m not the one who didn’t give a fuck, keisuke,” you snap, lip quivering, “and i’m not the one who didn’t try to fix everything. don’t you dare put this on me when it was you who made it so clear how much i meant to you.”

the reply is enough to leave his grip wavering, and you take the opportunity to pull yourself from his grasp, cradling your arms to yourself as if you’re afraid he’ll go for a second grab.

he opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he can’t seem to find the proper words to mend this, and that itself is enough to leave you turning on your heel, ignoring the way calls you to come back, ignoring the way him saying your name makes your chest ache, and when you stumble back into your apartment with tears welling in your eyes, you’re left with that sick bitter reminder.

baji hasn’t changed. won’t. not for you, not for anyone else.

༝ december 23, 2010

you check the time for the fifth time of the night, tapping your foot anxiously as if that could somehow make him appear in front of you.

by some miracle, it seems to work, the lock to your shared apartment turning. it’s followed by the door pushing open, and your disheveled boyfriend stumbling in, clumsily closing it behind him while he kicks off his shoes.

two hours. that’s what you’d waited for him to show up. two hours, and he comes in drunk, with the smell of alcohol wafting off of him in waves.

“hey baby,” he grins when he sees you, coming towards the couch to give you a kiss, but frowning when you stand and step away from him, “s’wrong?”

“you are unbelievable,” you can’t help but scoff, and he has the audacity to look surprised.

“what’re you talkin’ about?” he moves to pull you towards him, but you’re all too aware of this, taking a step away to keep your distance.

“our anniversary!” it’s then baji takes in the way you're dressed- hair done neatly, your favorite going-out attire hugging your figure nicely, with the necklace he gave you last year sitting pretty around your neck.

by the time he’s fully processed it, you’re moving past him to your shared bedroom.

“whatever, fucking forget it.” you’re undoing all your work while walking down the hall, already in the process of discarding all your clothes in favor of pajamas when he stumbles behind you into the room.

“hang on a sec,” he hiccups, “we can still go out, s’not too late.” he’s pulling the shirt you’re trying to change into out of your hands and trying to give you back the one you’d previously had, but you pull the former back with a glare.

“i waited two hours, keisuke! i texted you all day about it, i left reminders on the fridge, and at the pet shop! and you’re already too drunk to go do anything.” you add the last part with a whisper, bitter taste coming up from your stomach and settling in your mouth, “there’s no point.”

three years. three years you’d been with him, and still the importance of one fucking day is lost on him.

“‘m sorry baby,” he frowns, reaching for you. the frown grows when you pull away, tugging on shorts, “‘fuyu and i jus’ had a good day in sales today, kazutora said we should drink to celebrate and i lost track of time.”

more like forgot altogether.

“whatever.” you say dismissively, dejected, and part of you wishes you’d gone out with hina like she invited you to. at least then, you’d be drunk too and could laugh it off.

“really am sorry.” he’s reaching for you again, and you can’t find it in yourself to pull away, “make it up to you tomorrow.”

he presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you towards the bed, discarding his own clothes until he’s in just his boxers, and clambers under the blankets, patting the spot beside him. you follow without complaint, and he’s out cold in less than ten minutes.

you find yourself unable to sleep like that, gently shimmying out from the covers and grabbing the blanket on the back of the couch before deciding to settle there for the night. left alone with your thoughts swarming, your sadness soon being replaced by anger. you fall asleep there with fire on your tongue.

when baji wakes up, he has a killer headache. you aren’t beside him, he notes dully, and one glance to the alarm clock by the bed tells him it should be too early for you to be awake.

the smell of coffee hits his nose, and he finds himself pulling on sweatpants and following the smell. you’re in the kitchen, blanket usually on the couch draped around your shoulders, and you don’t acknowledge him while you sip on your cup.

he’s grabbing some tylenol from the cabinet when you finally open your mouth.

“have fun last night?”

he doesn’t miss the way the words fall bitterly from your lips, or the way your fingers absentmindedly grip your mug a little tighter.

“we’ll go out today,” he says instead of answering, “just need to shower and-” he’s cut off by you slamming the cup down, surprised it doesn’t shatter in your grasp from the force.

“i don’t want to go out today, keisuke. today isn’t our anniversary.”

his lips twitch to a scowl. no way you’re still bitter, right?

“well yesterday is already over. so you have today or next year.”

he doesn’t miss the way you scoff, or the way your hands clench the blanket around your shoulders.

“what was so important?” you find yourself asking, unable to look at him.

“the hell are you talking about?” he chugs a glass of water with the pills he previously grabbed.

“what could’ve been so important you get shitfaced two hours after your shift knowing we had plans?” you clarify, and his jaw clenches at what you could be implicating. his head just seems to throb more, and the thought of an argument does not help.

“i told you last night, we had good sales and the boys wanted to celebrate-”

“we had these plans for three weeks,” you ration desperately, “three!.” you hold up that number of fingers as if it will help emphasize, and baji shoves your hand from his face with his brow twitching.

“stop talking to me like i’m an idiot.” and the fact that he’s derailing the issue to that makes you angrier.

“it’s like you don’t even care,” you scoff, retreating from the kitchen and to the living room. he notes the displacement of some pillows as he follows you, how the cushions aren’t exactly how they should be.

“you sleep out here last night?”

“does it matter?” you sit on the couch, exhausted from the conversation and from being treated so poorly, but the idea of mentioning it brings more pain than you’d like to think about.

“yes,” he sits beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him with little resistance. he presses a kiss to your hair, whispering apology after apology, “‘m sorry for being such a shitty boyfriend,” he starts, “and ‘m sorry for not taking things as seriously as i should. i’ll be better, i promise.”

you’re fine with that, you think. despite knowing his promises are empty, you’re fine with thinking right now they aren’t. if it means the tension will leave your body, you’ll believe anything he’d say.

༝ july 07, 2009

the air is warm around you, humid, when baji picks you up from your apartment for your date.

he grins when he sees you come down the steps, two at a time to throw yourself into his arms, and almost loses his balance if not for him leaning against his bike for support.

“you look cute,” his grin widens when you flush, pinching his cheek with a smile, “miss me?”

“always.” you hum, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. he accepts it greedily, hands finding your waist to pull you closer to him and keep you there, but you’re pulling away before he can get too carried away.

“we’re gonna be late for the movie,” you laugh, offering him a quick peck when he pouts.

“just the previews,” he argues, chasing you when you pull away from him, “maybe the opening credits too,” his lips press against yours, “and the beginning scenes.” another kiss.

“no way,” you break away from the curse he has on you with a smile, “i’ve been wanting to see this since i read the book.” just one more kiss, then you’re pushing him to climb onto the bike, following behind him once he’s settled.

in hindsight, you could’ve skipped the movie altogether. the book was far better, and they didn’t even film your favorite part! but you’re happy you still decided to come out with baji, elated to spend whatever time you can with him.

though things haven’t been super busy at his shop, chifuyu has been running him ragged to get things in top shape, and most of your own time has been taken by exams and work. it’s a nice break, when you’re with him, and the comfort he brings you spreads warmth from your chest and into the deepest parts of your bones.

darkness came a while ago, but neither of you can find it in yourself to care when in the deepest parts of roppongi. the cool night air nips at your skin while on baji’s bike, and you find yourself tucking your hands under his shirt in an effort to keep warm while he drives aimlessly through the streets.

soon you find yourselves on a bridge, and baji stops at the very top and helps you off of the bike when your legs are too shaky with adrenaline to step off on your own. you giggle when he pulls you towards the railing, pushing your back into the cool bars with him standing in front of you.

“got you somethin’.” he leans down, lips ghosting over your own.

“oh yeah?” you hum, standing on your toes to meet him halfway, but missing when he pulls back. he grins at the way you pout, arms wrapping around his shoulders as if it would help keep him in place.

“yeah.” he confirms, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. you eye him, then the box warily, before he’s gesturing for you to take it.

you do so gently, nimble fingers opening the box and gasping when you see the pretty necklace inside. a silver chain, with a small B at the center.

“for me?” you can’t help but tease, and baji’s smile widens when he sees you like it.

“only you,” he kisses your forehead and plucks the box from your grasp, in the process of removing the necklace from it when you open your mouth to complain, “let me put it on ya.”

you turn, holding your hair out of the way so he can easily clasp it, and he presses a kiss at the nape of your neck once he’s done. it falls nicely at the center of your chest, and baji spins you around with either hand on your shoulders to fully take it in.

“pretty.”

you wrap your arms around his torso to pull him closer to you, kissing his nose, “thank you.”

and the night is settled in each other’s embrace, coming back to your apartment much later than either of you could have anticipated.

༝ april 19, 2008

you’re almost certain you’re at the wrong place.

the address should be correct, based on what you looked up on google, but the noise from inside the garage has you hesitating from continuing forward.

with a bit of hyping yourself up, you're stepping past the door and into the garage. inside are three boys, making much more noise than you expected them to be. not one of them notices you as their argument grows heated.

“-just saying that if she wanted to be with you, she would’ve made a move by now!” argues one with long dark hair, narrowly dodging a wrench that gets thrown his way.

“and i’m saying she’s shy!” the wrench thrower argues, notably oldest of the three and brushing his shorter black hair out of his face, “it’s been a month! i’m just giving it time to work itself out.”

“more like losing it altogether,” smallest of the three, the blond hums out, “you’ve never been good with romance shinichiro.”

‘shinichiro’ visibly deflates, “would it kill you to support me for once mikey?”

“mikey’s just a realist,” the long-haired boy grins, all teeth, “and what kind of friendship would this be if it was built on lies?”

“a happy one.” shinichiro grumbles, turning to grab something and finally taking you in. “oh . . . um, hi, can i help you?”

“hi,” you breath out, very aware of the three pairs of eyes now on you, “i um . . . i’m looking for a baji? baji keisuke?”

two sets of eyes move from you to the boy with long hair, and his own eyes widen for a second before that toothy grin returns.

“s’me, what can i help you with?”

“left your bag in class,” you offer it when he walks towards you, “i didn’t want it to get stolen or anything. . .” you look away from him, and his head tilts slightly, before he snaps and points at you.

“you’re in my english class! thought i recognized you.” he opens the bag, digging through it for a second, then pauses, “how’d you know to come here?”

you flush, bowing your head, “i went through the bag to see if your wallet was it in it -” then straighten yourself, “-for your address! but there was like a bajillion cards for this place in the bottom of the bag and honestly you should probably clean it out because it’s very messy-” you’re talking far quicker than necessary, anxiety increasing when he just smiles at you.

“you’re cute.”

you feel your face heat further, turning away from him, “t-that’s all i came for! see you in class!” before you’re walking out of the garage all too quickly and cursing yourself when you’re about a block down the street at how fucking awkward you are.

“see shinichiro, that’s how you flirt with someone.”

mikey does not dodge the wrench thrown his way, whining about how mean his big brother is and how he can’t be mean and not know how to flirt, while baji smiles dumbly at the number left on his english notebook.

#salmon rowe #keisuke baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji x reader #keisuke x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #x reader #tokyo revengers

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