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petriquors · 8 months

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POV: you gave your neighbor your spare key

a/n: gn!reader, post-timeskip, breakups, hurt/comfort, pining

You regret giving your spare key to your neighbor, Osamu.

It started with a business trip. You needed someone to water your plants, and he didn’t mind stopping at your place on his way to work. Then, you became friends, and it became an easy way to see each other. After all, it saves you the effort of getting up and opening the door when he comes over.

This time is different.

This time, your response to seeing Osamu walk through your door isn’t a smile with crinkled eyes. It’s a dejected “You should go.”

The door closes. You hear, “Like Hell I should.”

You're laying on your side, wrapped in your favorite blanket on your sofa. Your eyes sting, so you close them and will away another wave of tears. It’s been a long day: what should have been an easy day off for you started with getting dumped by the guy you’ve been seeing.

Over text.

At 5 A.M.

“Sit up,” Osamu pauses, and you hear the rustling of a plastic bag, “or you’ll choke on your own snot.”

“Aren’t you nice?” You mutter and wrinkle your nose but sit up anyway. It’s the first time you’ve moved in over an hour, so your shoulders ache in protest, and your head spins as it reacclimates to being right side up.

After just a few minutes, Osamu brings a cup of tea into your living room. It’s in your favorite mug, and from where you’re sitting, you can already smell that it’s your favorite variety. You watch him warily, unsure what he’s going to do or why he even bothered to come. You were perfectly ready to spend today crying alone, but now there’s someone else in your space.

And if the scowl he wears is anything to go by, he won't let you be alone.

He sets the teacup down on the coffee table. You watch steam slowly billow off the liquid’s surface, wafting through the air at a pace so gentle that you feel your lungs begin to relax for the first time all day.

In the corner of your eye, you see Osamu moving again, and then he fills your vision: broad shoulders, strong jaw, worried scowl. He’s kneeling right in front of you, hands on his thighs, brow deeply creased. He’s silent. Watching you.

Suddenly nervous, you open your mouth and say, “I’m sorry—”

He puts a hand on the sofa cushion, next to your thigh. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“But—”

He scoffs as if the very notion of you apologizing to him is offensive. “Would you let me apologize to you for accepting your help when I need it?”

You grumble because he’s right, and also because it’s hard to accept the fact that being dumped is a lot easier to deal with when you’re not all alone.

And yet, you can’t help but wonder, “How’d you find out?”

“Group chat,” he says, and that makes you roll your eyes. You told one of your other friends, so of course she metaphorically ran off to the group chat to tell everyone else—probably in the name of ripping off the Band-Aid so you don’t have to.

You close your eyes for a second that feels like an hour. Maybe if you open them again, this will all be a nightmare, you’ll be in your bed, it’ll still be the middle of the night, and you’ll still be seeing the guy who dumped you.

But that would also mean Osamu wouldn’t be kneeling in front of you. Why does the lack of Osamu bother you more than the lack of your ex?

You look down at your hands as if their lines and creases hold all the answers in the universe. They don’t. “I just wanted to mean something to him.”

“You mean everything to people that matter a lot more than him.”

His voice is so uncharacteristically low that your eyes snap up to his. His eyes are a little wide as if he can’t believe he just said that, his lips are parted as if he wants to say something more, and he swallows hard as if gulping down a mountain of emotions.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Why?” you venture.

Osamu thinks that’s an unfair question to ask, and he wants to tell you just as much. But when you look at him with wide eyes that haven’t been free from tears for hours, he realizes that you—strong, vibrant, wonderful you—need a gentle touch whether you like it or not.

He reaches for the steaming cup of tea, now cool enough not to burn you, and places it in your hands. Your fingers touch; his breath catches. Your hands are colder than he expected, so he says, “Drink.”

When you take a long sip of tea, he tries to find a few seconds of peace to sort through his own mess of thoughts. He didn’t account for the fact that you were going to close your eyes, which makes your lashes dust over the tops of your cheeks, which makes him think about wiping away your tears with his own hands.

He shouldn’t touch you like that. Maybe you’d think it’s just a friendly gesture, but he would know that he really means to take care of you better than the jerk who dumped you ever did.

And that means protecting your heart, even at the expense of his own.

He swears to himself that he won’t be a rebound. It’d be wrong to take advantage of you in a moment as vulnerable as this one, and he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you like that. But he’ll be damned if he lets you suffer like this alone.

“Thank you for being here,” you murmur, and your words stab him right through the heart. You have no idea what saying things like that does to him, to the longing he’s been feeling for you. That feeling has become so familiar to him that it feels like it’s a part of him now.

“Of course I’d be here,” he chokes out, forcing his voice to be gentle, gentle. His heart trembles and quakes when he sees what this other guy did to you, but rather than find out where this guy works and ask him what his problem is, Osamu wants to be right here, comforting you.

“You should be smiling,” he continues, unable to stop the words on their rapid descent from brain to mouth. His voice is so soft and raspy that even he doesn’t recognize himself. “You shouldn’t be worrying about what he thinks of you.”

He only wants you to be happy. It really is that simple. It always has been.

So, he silently promises himself and you that he’s going to wait. He’s going to be here for you while you heal from this, and he’ll help you heal from this—and when you’re ready, if you’ll have him, he’ll be yours.

"I brought ice cream," he changes the subject, afraid of how desperate he is to see you smile again. "Want some?"

He already belongs to you, anyway. Who cares if it takes you a little more time to realize it?

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu fluff #osamu headcanons #osamu comfort #my stuff #my fluff #my miya osamu stuff #my miya osamu fluff #dividers by cafekitsune

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justanothercloudinthesky · 2 years

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Bad Day

Osamu x Reader, Akaashi x Reader, Iwaizumi x Reader

Notes: sometimes you just need someone to be there after a bad day, whether at work or school or just... because it is. we all need that someone.

Hurt/Comfort

Osamu:

now, it would be silly to think that ranting to him hadn’t crossed your mind, the way his cool-toned eyes would focus in on yours, occasionally flashing to your nose to see it wrinkle just a bit when you laughed or rambled. He might not realize just how much he’s a walking breathing beacon of comfort for you.

In a perfect world you’d run into his arms in this moment, tears streaming down your face as he’d lift you up, arms toned from years of training, he’d look down and take a deep breath, content you were in his arms. as he’d cradle you, not a word needing to be spoken.

but... the world is far from perfect, so as you set foot over the threshold of the door, taking deep breathes to keep your emotions in check. not expecting the living room lamp to be on. or his eyes peeking over the couch, crinkling in a smile.

“you’re home!” his voice immediately drawing emotion closer and closer to your breaking point, as he started to stand up, picking up a plate filled with all assortments of sweets. his smile, not quite as wide as his brothers, not quite as rare as Suna’s, not quite as symmetrical as Kita’s, but perfect. more perfect than all the others combined.

you didn’t even realize that tears had been running until his warm hand came up to wipe them away, close enough so you could smell the fabric softener in his sweatshirt.

as he wraps his arms around you, shaking you out of your haze as you sob into his shoulder. maybe no words were needed. maybe it doesn’t have to be perfect, but little moments. moments of peace, moments of love, moments to simply be. moments like these, perfect moments, were good enough.

Akaashi:

the shock on your face was reflected back at you, as you stared at Him, the love of your life. his sweet blue eyes widening behind the frames of his glasses, frozen in place. both of you in shock at the interaction that had just transpired.

“I- I didn’t mean any of that, I’m so sorry, I was stressed and-” the worlds leaving your mouth before a sob escaped, your hand not fast enough to muffle it. his gaze shifting, eyes softening as he took in the scene. the clear marks of exhaustion written in your face.

his footsteps seemingly silent as he suddenly seemed to appear mere inches from you, his smooth hand cool against your skin, as he gathered the tears on his fingers, wiping them gently on his shirt, before tilting your head so you’d meet his eyes.

“it is okay, I promise.” he spoke as more sobs broke loose, Akaashi merely pulling you closer, kissing your forehead, knowing that you lashing out was not any attack, but merely two exhausted people trying their hardest to continue on. his hands holding your own, running a finger of your knuckles as he looked with such compassion.

“I love you.”

those words so powerful, yet so simple. giving you the strength you were unaware you were lacking. hugging him tightly as he chuckled softly. reminding you he was there, as he gently led you to the bathroom, helping you into a warm bath, hands still intertwined.

Something as simple as a break, his words distracting you from it all. nothing important being said, but the simple company of another person did wonders. no grand gestures, but something far more powerful. a simple forehead kiss, his eyes crinkling at your jokes and a simple ‘I love you.’

Iwaizumi:

his shoes sounded as he walked into the hallway, exhausted from work himself, as you’d been sitting on the couch, trying to calm down from it all. all the stress can do weird things, making you feel so absolutely alone. Not saying hello like usual, as he hung his bag on the hook, tossing his workout clothes in the washer before walking over, giving you the usual kiss on the cheek.

you stood up too, starting the routine but hollow as you continue, wanting to bring it up to him, to the just talk it out. trying to catch up, not knowing quite what you would say, but simply craving his company, he was obviously tired and while you didn’t want to burden him, you weren’t sure how long you could hold it to yourself either.

finally meeting him in the kitchen, as he chops vegetables for dinner. your mouth opening and closing many times, just looking for the words to say. the right ones finally coming to you. walking close, you tug on the hem of his shirt.

“please... just hold me?” you said softly, concern washing over his face, as he set down the knife, bending over a little to hug you tightly, lifting you into his arms, looking you in the eyes.

“it’s okay, I’ve got you.” he said, not knowing his words would bring such comfort to you, tears of relief flooding down your cheeks. his questions being quelled by the smile etching itself on your lips.

“thank you.” you breathe, finally relaxing into his arms. your face in his shoulder, his hand gentle rubbing your back as he walks you to the couch, sitting down, and simply holding on. life’s scary, and things are stressful sometimes, but sometimes you just need someone to hold you, someone who won’t let go. and... maybe that makes things okay.

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tooruswhre · 1 year

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if there is something osamu loves the most, it’s those days to completely loosen up ; reset days. days where the two of you are off and both are able to dwell around in each other’s presence. you in his embrace in the morning, his soft little breaths tickling the hairs on your neck, him snuggling closer than close to you.

at the end of every month, it became a habitual suggestion of his to have a reset day. he finds peace in every single second of it: weather you’re in the house or out enjoying yourselves, its completely worth it.

it could be as small as going grocery shopping to going home to reorganize the refrigerator for those home cooked meals you can’t get enough of. or maybe sorting out your shared closet with new clothes to match the current season, or by color the articles of clothing it unifies in.

just something you two can do together is a simple beauty.

if there is something osamu loves the most, it’s those stress free, focusing on each other and nothing else ;

reset days.

reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3.

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daebraeksan · 2 years

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Hanging out with Osamu, he comforts reader over unrequited crush , but also idk reader’s past in general or something I don’t know

a/n: what kind of title is that lol. I’ve given up on everything. I’m in my flop era. Anyway.

edit: a/n2: fixed some typos. i am SO SORRY yall, so embarrassing <3 anyway enjoy again

Genre: college au, hurt/comfort (kind of? More like a respectful distraction? idk), pre-relationship, new friendship,

Contents: Negativity, low self esteem*like horribly low, depression, overly critical of self for having a crush, Osamu cooks/bakes for you, suspicion/not trusting, implied past trauma, surprise appearance from some boys at the end :)

Wc: 4136

#*#*#*#*#*#*#

Normally, you keep a tight lid on your emotions. You don’t want to get out of control. You don’t want to feel too much pain. You try to regulate your intake and output. You try to be careful.

So when these unruly emotions emerge inside of you—jealousy, pain, others you don’t want to name, roiling, writhing, clawing, and snarling—you panic. The alarm bells clamor. You don’t want to know what could happen. You just want this to be over. You don’t want to feel these things.

You need somewhere to go.

Your brain is so well-worn on the pattern of disappointment and abandonment, that you almost forget to tell yourself not to make this a big deal. You’re almost confused why you are this upset. It’s the same old, same old. You never get what you want. So, when your crush asked someone else out, what’s the difference? You don't even know them that well. Why would they even like you? You got no vibes that they liked you back.

You wrack your brain for why you’re feeling this pain.

Aren’t you smarter than this? Haven’t you been through this before?

You find the treacherous thread of hope, snaking and coiling through your chest, wrapping your heart and squeezing. It felt like a hug, when suddenly, it was thorns unsheathed and sliced through your heart.

Reality.

You think you’re a level headed person.

And then something like this happens. The treacherous hope bursts inside of you, buzzing, fueling you. For how long? For how many days of insidious tormented fantasizing?

It's sad that the “thing” you thought “would be different this time”, for something so stupid, like—But you actually spoke to them. Shouldn’t that be enough? Like. You did something new. You got out of your comfort zone. You overcame something you used to be afraid of. (You are going to be afraid to repeat it again, now. Don't let anyone ever tell you that efforts are going to be rewarded. That’s not necessarily true.) You literally introduced yourself and exchanged numbers. And on top of that, you tried to converse with them.

You literally did so much. You wish you could be proud of that, stopping while you’re ahead. Usually, you like your crushes from a distance. Sometimes it's agony, sometimes it’s something fun to do, to occupy your time from life. You need a distraction from your problems, and thinking about a crush is fun. And then there’s always the inevitable downfall of when it stops being fun. You start to remember that no one would ever like you back. You aren’t attractive. You are weird. You are socially awkward, can’t keep up a conversation, you have nothing interesting to say. Nothing that people would want to hear. And you don’t know that many people with your common interests, anyway. There’s no way you can improve. You’re too scared to practice talking to people, so you’re never going to get better. You can’t rely on looks to draw people in. You think you are a great friend once people get to know you, but it’s the initial barrier that sucks. You can’t overcome the stress of talking to people in order for anyone to be able to get to know you in the first place.

And that’s what happened this time, too. You were right! It didn’t matter that this time, you were “ready” to try. Why? What good did it get you? You were willing to put yourself out there. You were tired of being alone, and tired of not believing in yourself.

And now, what?

You wished you could say you weren’t so arrogant to think things would work out for yourself. But you let yourself get fooled. You really thought for a second that something would work out for you! Pathetic.

You don’t exactly want to be in your room anymore and you don’t exactly want to be seen by anyone.

But it’s Thursday evening, so that means the weekend has already started, so that means everyone with friends is already out doing things. You should be safe to take a break from your depression hole and make a new temporary depression hole in the study room.

You grab your backpack and blanket and honestly debate wearing a fluffy robe over your clothes. But maybe that’s overkill. You stick your feet into fluffy slippers and triple check that you have your room key and head out to have a depressing time doing homework.

He was out of your league in every way.

What were you thinking?

You get through your pre-homework tumblr scroll and then finish re-reading the assignment. You’ve barely started on it when you hear the door swing open.

You freeze.

If the room is occupied, people would just leave.

Or they might ask if they can share. You hadn't expected this to occur. You genuinely thought everyone would already be out partying by now. Who the heck goes to college to do homework? Only people with no friends.

You think it will be fine if they take the other table and you just ignore them and stay here. What’s the rush? What’s the issue?

If you really need to leave, you can leave. Who cares? You’re too sad to do homework anyway. This is honestly overkill for the emotional state you’re in.

Everything is too much.

You take a deep breath and keep looking down. You really don’t want to acknowledge whoever came in first.

They probably won’t acknowledge you either, because no one does. You’re practically invisible.

And then you hear your name.

Tension shoots up your spine.

You don’t even want to look up.

But you have to, because it’s Osamu, and he’s really been nothing but nice to you since you met him.

Shockingly.

For someone who definitely has a girlfriend, or at least has no shortage of people to date or hook up with, he sure has a lot of kindness to go around.

Him having time to be nice to you is weird.

It doesn’t make sense.

“Hey,” you say. You blink at him. He’s looking particularly cozy in a cream cable knit sweater, sweatpants, and slippers.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says.

You smile humorously and shrug.

“What are you up to?”

“Homework,” you say, boringly.

“Ah,” he says. “Have a busy night ahead of you?”

“If I can manage. But probably not. I feel like I’ll give up soon and just go back to my room.”

“Oh. So you might be free this evening?” Osamu asks.

You look at him in confusion. “I guess I’m free basically every evening,” is a horrible way to out yourself as a loser. Not that Osamu wouldn't already know that. “What are you up to?” you ask him, eyeing him critically that he has entered the study room with no study materials.

“Oh,” he says, taking a quick look around as if he lost his excuse somewhere in the room. He looks back at you and grins. “I was on my way back to my room, and I saw you in here, so I wanted to say hi.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you say, trying not to actually take his actions to heart. Why would you want literally another repeat of what happened thirty minutes ago—believing that just simply talking to a boy meant you had “a chance” with him—to be special and valued, liked, admired, thought to be pretty? No. “What are you up to this evening?” you ask, not because you actually want to know—it’s different knowing in a vague sense that everyone has friends that they can hang out with and you don’t, you really don’t need details and specifics, but also you’re nothing if not full of boring small talk.

“Probably hanging out with the boys,” Osamu says. “You want to come?”

You blink at him. Social anxiety and fear of abandonment keep you frozen. Why even try to make friends if you’re just not going to be enough, and they are just going to be disappointed in you and not want to invite you ever again? You don't want a pity invite.

“Aw, thanks,” you say. “I can’t impose, though.”

“It’s not an imposition, I’m inviting you! Or we could hang out. Just us,” he says.

You really wonder if he and his girlfriend are so mature and chill that they are okay with this. Seems pretty unusual for someone seemingly as normal as him and potentially (though you really shouldn't assume) cishet as him.

“Oh,” you say

“I don’t want to impose,” Osamu says.

You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you.

“You’d have more fun with your friends. I don't want to interrupt your plans.”

“They’d be fine without me for one night,” Osamu says hopefully.

You send a wobbly smile his way. Why is he fighting you on this? You’re giving him every out. Are you his new charity case or something? He’s extended far more than the courtesy kindness you would have needed to receive. Basic human decency and respect, check. What is he still doing here? “They might not be,” you say, in a dull, but faux-warning tone. “They need you.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a second, almost in confusion, and then smirks at you. “You're funny.”

It’s your turn to look at him thoughtfully, critically, appraisingly, and try to figure out his game plan. What the fuck is he doing? You are funny, it’s true, but sometimes people can say something true on accident, without realizing it. You're funny, but you haven’t said anything funny tonight, to him. So you don’t know why he would say that. What could he possibly mean by that? He’s probably saying that you’re awkward and stupid and why are you still talking to him? Ugh.

“I don’t think I’ll be much fun to hang out with tonight,” you say, deciding that being pathetic and honest might get you the result you need—to be left alone. You don’t want him to see you that way, but you’re panicking and you need an out. “I’m not in the best mood.”

“Oh,” he says, faltering for the first time in the conversation.

You feel like a sick horrible person for feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride at that—and success. You’ve successfully alienated him enough to where he probably will never want to talk to you again! Because you’re too much of a burden, your emotions are a burden and inconvenient, you’re stupid, you’re not normal, you’re too difficult to have around. Yeah.

All of that.

“I. I am so sorry if I was overstepping and bothering you,” he says.

You shake your head. “You had no way of knowing. Don’t worry about it. Good night.”

He looks at you with some kind of urgency in his eyes. “Oh. Okay. Good night. I—Well. If you ever wanted to talk about something like this one day, I might not look it, but I’m actually a pretty good listener.”

Actually, in his little cable knit sweater, he looks more like a goodie two shoes good listener than he ever has looked. Normally he looks like a rascal and a trouble maker and his mischievous face can hardly hide his intentions.

You tell yourself to shut up. You tell yourself to stop getting carried away. It’s not his fault that he’s unfairly cute and attractive. And you wish you could say it’s not your fault that you’re attracted to him.

But you should know better.

“Oh,” you say. “I couldn't possibly—it’s stupid. And embarrassing.”

“Your emotions aren’t stupid and emabrassing!” he exclaims.

You sigh. Actually, the urge to overshare is really strong. But you have to remain calm. You can’t dump all your issues on this practically-stranger.

“I know we’re not that close, but we’ll never get close if we don't talk about some serious stuff eventually,” he says.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don't’ think that’s how it exactly works.”

Osamu cocks his head. “Isn’t it?”

You don’t answer.

He nods with finality. “I really don’t want to push the issue,” he says. “I do want to hang out with you. But I understand if it’s a no, and maybe I can ask you a different time. But. Could I tempt you with a sweet treat and then we could talk about it?”

You blush, thinking of him feeding you your favorite dessert.

No! No. Stop it. STOP THIS!

“Or,” he says. “I’ll just make it for you. We don’t even have to hang out today. But I'll drop it off at your room later. As a treat. To cheer you up.”

“No, no, it’s okay—”

“Okay, I’m going to leave you alone now,” he says. “Have a good night. I will be by later with your snack.”

He scuttles away before you can protest.

You look down at your homework.

You suppose you might as well work until he’s done with his kitchen excursion.

#*#*#*#

True to your word, you for the most part, diligently get ahead on your assignments. Osamu swings by the study room again, this time with treats in tow.

“Oh, wow, you really are still here,” he says.

You nod.

“I checked your room first,” he said. “Maybe I should grab your number? So it will be easier next time.”

You’re unfairly excited and then subsequently embarrassed about how little it takes for you to be over the moon.

Getting someone’s number.

An attractive person’s number.

But it’s platonic. 99% likely.

So.

Whatever.

Shut up.

He sets the treats down in front of you and sits across from you. He hands you his phone and you put your number in.

“Great!” he said, texting you immediately.

It’s a good thing that you would never want to give this man a fake number. Who would?

He looks at you in alarm. “Oh. Sorry. I just sat down like I own the place. I said I would drop the treats off and leave you alone.”

You sigh inwardly. “It’s fine. You went through all the trouble of making these, so why don't we share them?”

“They’re for you,” he says.

“And since they’re mine, I’m allowed to offer to share them with whoever I want.”

He smiles and acquiesces.

You small talk with him about baking and his friends and classes.

He rests his cheek on his palm, elbow propped on the table. “I wasn’t joking you know,” he said. “About being a good listener.”

“That’s kind of you,” you say.

“You’re kind of a closed book, aren’t you.”

“No,” you say. (You are.)

“You can’t just lie. I’m telling you what I’ve observed.”

“What, am I gaslighting you,” you joke.

“And gatekeeping and girlbossing,” he says.

You pump your fist in the air mildly.

“What if I told you something first?” he says.

“Why do you want to know something so badly?” you say. “And no, don’t rope me into a negotiation I didn’t agree to.”

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. You're really on your guard though, aren’t you?”

You shrug.

“I would like to earn your trust at the pace you are comfortable with,” he says. “I would like to get to know you more.”

You really want to ask why, but that’s such a pathetic question. Normal people with normal self esteem just take at face value that sometimes, others are going to be interested in getting to know them. But you? How could you ever delude yourself into thinking that? Especially about Osamu. You’ve never been worth anyone’s time or interest.

You look down at the treats, and something stirs in your heart.

You have to admit that food is one of your love languages.

And maybe you do need to practice trusting people more.

You don't know what’s the point, since all you've been is hurt before. But .

Living in isolation isn’t good, either.

You laugh at yourself. “It’s just about some guy.”

Osamu twitches and you look at him closer to see what happened, but there was no trace of the reaction on his face anymore. “Oh. You. Someone you were seeing?”

You grin wryly. “Not even. I’m much too pathetic for that. No, I just. Had a crush on him, I guess. But he started dating someone else.”

“Ooh,” Osamu winces in sympathy. “That’s never fun.”

You shrug. “It always happens to me.”

“Not always,” he says.

You glare at him. “I’m telling you, always,” you say. “You don’t know me.”

Osamu raises his hands. “I’m sorry. I just—I should have believed you, for sure. That’s my bad. But. I just thought maybe you were exaggerating.”

You shake your head. “My face is in the dictionary under unrequited, and stuff, blah blah blah.”

“That could mean guys like you and you never like them back,” Osamu says.

You snort.

“What.” he asks.

“Nothing, that’s funny,” you say.

“I didn’t mean that as a joke,” he says.

You press your lips together thinly.

“So yeah, I don’t know. Whatever. That’s why I was feeling down. Not a big deal,” you say.

“It is a big deal, if you say it is,” he says. “Do you want to talk about it more?”

You shrug. “It’s sad and pathetic.”

“Why do you say that?” he says. “I don't think you’re pathetic.”

“That’s because you don’t know me.”

“I would never think that,” he says.

You shake your head, wanting to drop the situation. You don’t know how to explain to him that you know better than him. But he has to come to his own conclusions after all. And he for sure will.

“Can I…?” he trails off.

You look at him, wondering if he’s being uncharacteristically shy.

“What?” you ask.

“Were you trying to drop the subject, or could I say one more thing?” he asks.

You shrug. “Go for it, if you want,” you say.

He looks at you and then looks down. “Now I’m embarrassed to say it. It’s kind of stupid to say something like “That guy doesn’t know what he’s missing,” huh?”

You smile. “Well. Maybe. It’s still a nice platitude though, so like. I’ll take it. Thanks for the effort.”

Osamu looks at you, torn. “I feel like I’m not. I feel like I’m doing a bad job.”

You look at him in alarm. You didn’t mean to upset him. “Of what?”

“I feel like nothing I’m saying is coming across right.”

You shrug. “I wouldn't blame yourself for that. I don’t really get things. I’m difficult. Set in my ways. Things went wrong for me a really long time ago.”

He opens his mouth.

“Don't ask me about them,” you say. “It’s definitely not something I should share lightly. It's just. It’s too much for most people.”

Osamu nods. “Okay. I trust you that you’ve had bad experiences sharing things in the past. Or maybe you just are used to not sharing about yourself at all. But yeah, I just wanted to say again, that I hope that as we get to know each other, at your own pace, you will one day feel like you can trust me with some of this stuff. If you ever want to.”

You nod, even though you won’t take him up on his offer. Most people would not be willing to stick around that long for you to be able to vet and trust them.

“Do you want any support about that guy?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. I don't know. Do you want me to say anything in support of you during these trying times?”

You look at him in amusement and a bit of awe, that he’s still trying. “You don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I guess now I’m curious about what you are thinking about,” you say, a bit worried about what you’re asking for.

“Just like. I don’t know. I hope that you’ll like, let yourself be sad about him for however long, but also like not for too long. Because he doesn’t deserve it. And also there’s plenty of other guys around.”

You want to argue with him on that. There are not plenty of other guys around. You have never had plenty of guys around. But you get where he’s coming from. You’d probably say something similar to that if someone you knew was going through this kind of thing.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He looks at you in shock. “Really? No argument?”

“I decided to cut you some slack,” you say.

He grins, a little openly and awe-struck, at you.

You’re embarrassed by the genuineness of his expression.

Is he being for real?

“So?” he grins. “Did you like the treats?”

“Yes, they are so good. Thank you so much.”

He preens. “There’s more where that came from, you know. You got any other requests?” he asks.

“I couldn't possibly—”

“You can! You can ask and you should. I’m asking you to ask.”

You look at him shyly. You can’t say anything.

“We could make something together one day, if you wanted,” he said.

You nod.

“And actually, you don’t need to hang out with my friends,” he blurts. “They are stupid.”

“What?” you blink. “You’re uninviting me?” you try for a joking tone.

“It’s going to be way more fun if we hang out just the two of us,” he says.

The malicious voice in your head says, oh he’s ashamed of you, he thinks you’re boring. Gross. Ew. Who cares.

“Yo, Samu, what the fuck?”

A gaggle of boys bursts into the study room and you freeze in embarrassment. You’re still in your fluffiest clothes and slippers and—

Ah, fuck it. Who cares?

You look at them quickly, and then look down.

“Are these the friends you don’t want me to hang out with?” you ask.

Every single boy in the room gapes at you.

“Okay, wait, what?” Atsumu gapes. (Okay, so you realize you remember some of Osamu’s friends a bit more than you first thought. Also, it’s kind of hard to forget his literal twin. With them having the same face and all.)

“Why are we being uninvited?” Hinata whines.

“This makes a lot more sense why you ditched us, but you still suck,” Suna says.

You look at Osamu, pleadingly. “Help!” your look says. You can barely talk to him one on one. Not with an audience, your brain can’t run all the simulations to help you say the exact right thing to not be weird.

There’s too many variables.

“You guys are stupid, get out of here,” Osamu snaps.

“Oh, what’s this?” Suna slides by the table, and puts his arm on the back of your seat, and leans down next to you to inspect the treats. You and Osamu stiffen and still in your respective seats for different (or is it the same?) reasons. “Can I have one?”

“Sure,” you say, at the same time Osamu snaps, “no!”

“Why, Samu?” Hinata croons. “I want one, too!”

“Me, too,” Atsumu says.

“All of you are useless,” Osamu growls.

“Yay, snacks!” Atsumu cheers, grabbing one for himself, after Suna swipes one first.

“Snacks, snacks, snacks,” Hinata sings and dances over, grabbing one for himself.

“Okay, it’s time to go,” Osamu says.

You look at him and wave.

“I meant us,” Osamu says pleadingly.

“As if you can get rid of us that easily,” Atsumu snorts.

“Do you want help carrying your things?” Suna asks, already picking up your backpack.

“No, it’s fine,” you say flustered, and Osamu growls, “I’ll do it!” and yanks the backpack from him.

“No, Osamu, it’s really fine—”

“No, I have to,” Osamu glares at the boys, “otherwise they’ll get their grubby little paws all over your stuff.”

“Okay, I’ll carry the food then,” Suna says.

“No,” Osamu says, and turns to you. “You grab it. Don't let them eat anymore.”

“It’s fine, isn’t it? You said we were going to make more anyway.”

“You’re making more?” Hinata says, eyes sparkling.

How can anyone say no to that face?

“Not. For. You!” Osamu snaps.

Apparently one person can.

Everyone bickers around you and you feel swept away in it all. For someone who never has plans on a Thursday night, you can’t say you’ve hated this evening.

You surprise yourself at that. It really did turn out much better than you were expecting.

You look at Osamu and are too embarrassed to thank him in front of his friends. But you will have to let him know how appreciative you are.

You let the boys escort you out of the study room and down the hall. You let yourself get invited to some upcoming stuff with them.

You let out a deep breath. You can try again.

What could possibly go wrong?

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salsakiyoomi · 2 years

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"good morning,"

it's sometime around eleven o' three on a nice friday morning when the door bells of the onigiri miya restaurant jiggle — the place being littered with more than a few people having breakfast at the tables.

osamu's eyes glance at your figure as you head over to the counter, a small smile on his face before his eyes settle back on the costumer in front of him, handing them their meal while muttering a soft 'have a nice day' to them, they quickly thank him and leave, the door bells once again jiggling behind them.

osamu makes his way over to you, still that small smile on his lips, as he leans on the counter, "morning,"

"i see mr. fancy restruant is out behind the counter again, huh?" you say, raising your eyebrows at him.

"just getting along with my people," he shrugs, "i see you're up early today,"

you slap his arm, quickly shushing him as he laughs, "shut up,"

he asks, "where are you going?"

you pout at him, "i just came to say hi,"

osamu raises an eyebrow at you, "just 'hi'?"

his tone is a little bit interrogating as he questions you, yet that menacing smirk on his face and you know he's teasing you.

"fine," you give in, rolling your eyes, "i came here to have breakfast, so?"

perks of dating miya osamu : free meals at onigiri miya, and you made it your ultimate goal to have free meals there for the remainder of your relationship.

he smiles at you, "that's what i thought," after all, you were a little too dressed up for coming in just to say hi, and no way were you going somewhere to run errands or something on a firday morning — you have new clothes that you bought just last week, and your perfume scent is overwhelming but osamu recognizes it as your favourite perfume, your eyes hold a faint evidence of sleep as they're just a little bit droopy with mascara on your eyelashes, but what catches his attention most is your lips.

because, unlike the usual shiny red of your strawberry lipbalm that you wear more often than not, there is a light shiny brown smudged across your lips.

he frowns and leans over the counter, closer to you, "come closer,"

you lean over the counter, and before you even ask what's the matter, his lips capture yours, savouring the taste of them.

but only for a mere few seconds — you yelp, surprised at his sudden action but before you could even protest or comply, he pulls away.

"what was that about," you pull away off the counter, frowning in confusion at him.

"caramel," he says, a smug smirk on his face, "you have caramel lip balm on,"

at that, your face heats up, as you brush your fingertips on your lips, "you're the absolute worst,"

"oh, come on," he laughs, "i give you free meals, i think i deserve a taste of you once in a while too,"

"'samu!"

but his laughter is the only response you get as you feel more flustered by the second, and you're trying to fight a smile off your lips by replacing it with a pout instead.

and finally, when osamu's amused laughter at your flustered self calms down, a permanent smile on his face as he motions for you to join him behind the counter.

"come on, let's have breakfast,"

#will be offering no context whatsoever for this bcz its 5am #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#miya osamu #osamu headcanons #osamu drabbles #osamu scenarios #osamu imagine #osamu fluff #osamu comfort #osamu x reader

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honeystwiggypeach · 2 years

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hi there!!:) i’ve read a few of your fics and i love them!!

i was wondering if you could write one about osamu helping out the reader who got kicked out by their mom??

i was recently kicked out (ish? confusing situation) and it’s been difficult (luckily my aunt took me in)

but yeah! i just need that comfort,,,

Soft comfort

Osamu x reader

Of course I can!! I’m so sorry that happened to you I hope it gets better for you! I’m sorry if this is short or not what you wanted if there’s anything you dislike about this let me know and I can try to fix it!!

⚠️tw⚠️: being kicked out of the house, crying(there is a touch of eating but it’s like cooking food and talking about eating!)

It hadn’t been your fault that had been repeated to you hundreds of times by your loving boyfriend, Osamu, his brother Atsumu and their mother who was happy to clean up the spare bedroom and let you stay with them.

When you called Osamu crying because you weren’t sure what you should do he told you to come over and that he would help you figure out what to do. It had been raining when your mom had kicked you out thankfully the Miya’s house wasn’t to far but by the time you got there you felt like a wet dog as you stood on their porch cold rain dripping off your back as Osamu quickly took you into their warm and welcoming house hugging you tight whispering that it was going to be ok.

On your way to his house he had asked his mom what he should do to help you and just as panicked as him his mom began dragging Atsumu with her to the spare bedroom to quickly tidy it up for you. The two of them absolutely adored you so much and they knew that with the way Osamu treated you and you had treated Osamu that the two of you adored each other.

Upon hearing how distressed you were on the phone Osamu began to cook something in the kitchen to which his mom suggested soup because it was raining and that was always a good option for nasty weather. So when he carefully walked with you to the kitchen guiding you to sit on one of his moms tall island stools the kitchen smelt like comfort and warm and it felt safe.

While the soup cooked down Osamu sat next to you and just waited, he wasn’t sure exactly what he should say, he knows that it’s likely a sensitive topic so he did what he knew best to offer comfort as he opened his arms allowing you to drown yourself in his comfort without forcing to talk about it.

Soon enough the soup was finished and Atsumu and his mom appeared from the spare bedroom chattering on about how Osamu should have began cooking earlier so you could have eaten as soon as you got in and if you could describe the atmosphere in a few words it would be warm like a comforting hug from the one person you need a hug from the most.

#reader insert #haikyuu #x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu comfort #osamu comfort #hq osamu #osamu x reader #osamu miya

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sutaro-min · 2 years

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badlywrittenfics pt. 5 [procrastination]

[.roommate!osamu x reader]

warnings. long-ish? bad grammar

you didn't mean to. you meant to finish your work, eat a proper dinner, and go to bed in a timely manner. that's what you meant to do. what you didn't mean to do was to fall asleep in the middle of your room while trying to finish the essay you had procrastinated all day.

It all started as you sat down at your desk with a plate of snacks to fuel your essay-writing. The day had been so long already with back-to-back classes, and you were physically exhausted from standing for an 8-hour shift at your part-time job. So it made sense that you accidentally opened YouTube instead of your essay document. Just one video, you told yourself, just to destress and relax before getting into my school work. But of course, one video turned into another which turned into binging a new tv show and a movie. This was not good. Heaving a sigh, you shook your head and mentally prepared yourself as you finally pulled up your essay. But alas, sleep started to overtake you and your eyes were drooping so much that the words in front of you looked like a pile of mush.

You knew that if you lay down for a quick nap, you wouldn't wake up until the next morning. But, you were just so tired. Then you had an epiphany. You had just recently bought a new rug, and it was turning out to be one of the best decisions of your life. If you couldn't sleep on your bed, then the rug would be the next best thing! Thinking about it logically, taking a nap on the floor would be perfect because it would be comfortable enough to have a good sleep, but uncomfortable enough that you wouldn't sleep for too long. Right?

-----

It is no surprise to Miya Osamu to come back home and find his roommate fast asleep on the rug at 2am. He would always find you napping in random places around your shared apartment, but the floor was a first. He had originally come into your room to see if you wanted a snack and ended up finding you curled up on your rug with your laptop quietly humming.

"yn?" he said as he gently started to shake you awake, "yn? do you want to move to your bed?"

"hmggh... essayyy..." you responded

he chuckled and shook his head, before pulling you into his arms. Osamu scooped you up, strode over to your bed, and gently placed you on your covers. He then shut the lights off in your room before heading back over to pull your blanket over you.

"s-samu.." you garbled

"hm?"

"hakckjeoj" you sighed, still very much half-asleep

"that means nothing to me, yn."

seemingly giving up on speaking, you lazily waved your arm in his general direction and tried to grab at his arm. "cmere please."

Osamu raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile at your ridiculous movements. He crouched down to your level to wrap his hand around your waving wrist, then slid his fingers up until they were laced between yours. "is this what you wanted?"

this time you sighed in contentment, the warmth of his hand comforting you and lulling you into a soft sleep.

-----

groggily, you slowly opened your eyes as the sun streamed through your curtains. you were wrapped up completely in your blankets, which did not make sense for many reasons.

you were supposed to be taking a quick nap so how is the sun out

you were supposed to be on your floor so why were you in your be-

oh.

You sat up to see Osamu sitting on your floor, his right arm carefully tucked under his head. His Onigiri Miya uniform shirt was completely ruffled up, and his hair stuck up in multiple directions. What caught your attention, however, was his left arm that was reached out towards you. still intertwined with your hand.

#badlywrittenfics #haikyuu #anime #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #miya osamu #haikyuu x reader #onigiri miya #osamu x y/n #osamu scenarios #osamu x you #osamu fluff #osamu comfort

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originalartblog · 6 months

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enough debate on the subject. everyone wants to be the little spoon.

#somebody force them to cuddle so they can get into a comfortable routine and switch who holds who when #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanart #skk #soukoku #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #nawy's doodles

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sexyandcringe · 2 years

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Osamu meeting your strict brown family

Content/warning: fluff, brown parents thingz

A/n: part two of this "series", so the notes are the same: i won't add any details of the night cause my culture might be different than others' and i want to be as inclusive as possible in the limits i have.

We all know that Osamu is the perfect husband material

So i don't think it would be difficult to make your parents like him hihi

He was so excited when he found out that he is getting to know your parents/family 🥺 bless his soul

As Atsumu, when you tell him that he will have to control his carnal desires for you while you are at your brown parents home, he is very sad and disappointed, but!!

He will do anything to make your parents like him!

He got a pretty nice control over himself too, but he can't help but want to have sneaky kisses here and there when no ones looking 🙈

We all know that he completly WINS over your fam through their stomach

They are genuienly surprised like, a MALE SPECIES being ABLE TO COOK well?? Never saw that in their patriarchal mysoginistic country 🙄❗

He also flaunts his biceps by picking up heavy stuff

PLUS we all know how brown parents are when someone owns a business 💀💀 he is handsome, built like a god, knows how to cook AND owns a business? They are sold.

Ofc they won't outwardly show it, but they start to appreciate him

They see how happy he makes you, how respectful he is, clean, well mannered etc etc.

🥺🥺🥺 im going soft, but if you have younger siblings (like under 12) he would get along w them because he is just that good w kids 🥺

I already said this in the indian marriage hc but kids love him! So if not parents or uncle/aunties, rest assures that your little cousins/brothers/sisters love him!

He also tries to learn some words from your language (if not the whole language) because he wants to be able to communicate with your family without your help

So this also makes your parents happy because he is open to their culture etc etc.

Is not afraid of protectove big brothers ✔

Kindly smiles and tells them he wants to make you the happiest

Just 100% husband material, marry him right now please.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

#haikyuu x reader #osamu miya #Osamu x reader #Haikyuu x brown reader #Haikyuu x desi reader #Osamu x brown reader #Osamu x desi reader #Osamu comfort #Osamu fluff #Haikyuu comfort #Haikyuu fluff #Osamu x strict parents reader #Haikyuu x strict parents reader #Osamu x indian reader #Haikyuu x indian reader

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lotus-pear · 4 months

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my entry for @seukorei 's dtiys!! congrats on 2k soy <3

#this was like the biggest step out of my comfort zone since i only use warm colors💀#but yk what it helped me expand my horizons #seukorei2kdtiys #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #lotus draws

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satorisoup · 1 month

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PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER .ᐟ

ft. hq boys and their acts of intimacy <3

cw : fluff + sfw. timeskip! setting. mentions of bathing together.

ᰔ BOKUTO + BUBBLE BATHS

even though he may be a little too burly to fit comfortably with you in the tub, and it takes a couple minutes to get situated without getting squashed, bokuto loves to bathe with you. he enjoys running the warm water, not too hot, not too cold, but just right. he’ll mix in a nice scented soap that makes bubbles rise high in the bathtub, lavender and citrus you can smell in the mist of your bathroom. he’ll hold your hands under the water, and maybe splash you a couple times, but he shows he cares with the delicate touches he leaves on your skin as he washes away the worries of the world with a sponge of suds. he’ll lather your hair in your favorite shampoo, careful to not snag any knots, and rinse the strands with such gentleness you can barely even feel it. and when you’re all done, he’ll wrap you in a warm towel, snug and clean while he kisses your damp cheeks with a huge smile.

ᰔ KITA + FLOWERS

kita vowed that when he started dating you, he would never allow a week to go by without your vase being filled with a new bouquet. he’ll come home to you, new flowers wrapped in the palm of his hands as he kisses you hello. he loves the the way you get excited, eyes twinkling at the delicate petals and floral scent as you thank him over and over. he’ll watch you with a fond smile as you carefully take them in your grasp, setting them into a pretty vase that makes your home light up with color. he won’t let you see the flowers die, always keeping one for himself so he knows when it’s time to replace them. he’ll always tell you the meaning of the bouquet he got, or leave a pretty note tied around the stems. he buys a different type of flower every time, because he knows you’ll enjoy the variety. he adores you just as much as you adore the beautiful flowers.

ᰔ ATSUMU + MASSAGING YOU

atsumu has talented hands from years of playing volleyball, and he puts them to good use when you complain that you’re sore. he’ll knead at the expanse of your skin, smiling to himself as you sigh in content. he’ll rub away the tiredness of your muscles, gentle but calculated touches everywhere you could need. he likes to hold your hands in his, massaging from your fingers all the way up to your arms, and back down to your hands again. he’ll lay your sock-clad feet in his lap, squeezing and rubbing the ache away with his fingers. he’ll sit you on his lap, massaging the discomfort of your cramping shoulders until your melting into his touch. he won’t be rough, making sure his touch is tender and soft while he works the knots out. he kindly kisses your skin when he’s done, and feels that it’s a mission accomplished when you tell him you feel much better.

ᰔ OSAMU + FEEDING YOU

as long as osamu is around, you will always have a full plate. he’s always in the kitchen, a small and sacred book of his ma’s recipes standing proud on an easel. you don’t remember the last time you’ve heard your stomach grumble, because he’s already sliding a bowl your way. he loves how domestic it feels, to use the recipes he once enjoyed as a kid and serve them to you on a silver platter. he likes that you’re his personal taste tester, giving him a thumbs up with full cheeks as you chew. when your sick, he’ll insist on feeding you, hot spoon of soup between his fingers, his hand cusped at the bottom to catch any that falls. he’ll wake you up in the early mornings to tell you the food is ready, and sometimes surprise you with breakfast in bed. he’ll kiss your chubbed cheeks as you munch on one of his special onigiris, and ask you if you want another until your belly is full.

ᰔ AKAASHI + READING TO YOU

akaashi enjoys reading to you every chance he gets. a book held in the palms of his hands, licking his thumb every time he turns the page. he’ll have you curled up to his side, or sat between his legs, as he reads aloud the words imprinted on the page. he’ll add emotion to his voice at the important parts, and he’ll glance at your face to see your reaction. his voice is soft and soothing as he reads, occasionally moving his hand towards your hair to gently caress the top of your head. when it’s nighttime, he reads to you almost as if it’s a bedtime story, bedside lamp warming the room with it’s light as he flips through the pages. chapter after chapter he brings you closer to sleep, pages like a lullaby of prompts and fiction. he’ll pause when he notices your reactions have gone silent, breathing evened out as you lulled into a quiet slumber. he’ll smile as he puts a bookmark between the spine, already anticipating tomorrow when he can continue to read you the next chapter.

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tooruswhre · 2 years

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the boyfriend who loves those quiet mornings, rustling of the wind brushing against the window that’s just feet from the bed. feeling his grasp on your frame give you a little squeeze when he pulls you closer.

the one who always checks up on your eating habits to make sure you’re getting a healthy meal or snack. he’d even airplane the food that rests atop of the cutlery that he pressed to your glazed lips.

he’ll wear an apron and a cute little chef hat that flops at the left and decorative pins at the band. he sways slightly to the music in the background that plays through his phone, humming to the beat. he’s the boyfriend that always has you taste the dish to get your rating, like your a judge and he’s the chef.

the boyfriend who loves those little moments and things you do for one another. random words of affirmations, little dates and adventures you go on every once and a while.

osamu is the boyfriend that reminds you of how you make him enjoy the life he has with you being involved.

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daebraeksan · 2 years

Text

Osamu comforts, when scared about failing to make friends in your new era of life

Genre: comfort, friends, high school to college, but principles apply for any new era of life tbh imo <3,

Contents: anxiety, social anxiety, processing grief and loss, abandonment issues, reader doesn’t have a regular workout schedule (lol), some anticapitalism,

Wc: 3385

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

First of all, everyone should stop going to college. What if we all just took a year and all decided we weren’t going? What would happen to society? (positive) It’s something to consider.

But in this world where many people are “expected” to go to college for capitalistic reasons, and that too, there are a lot of people who are excited for it, who would probably thrive there, but you can’t help the dread building in your chest when you look at Bokuto in his living room and think, that’s a college student.

Not yet.

But one that’s going to be very soon.

The summer before college is the freest you are ever going to be in your whole life ever again (capitalism) (derogatory). You don’t want to waste it.

But here you are, wasting it, being absolutely frayed with nerves, and your body coiling in on itself trying to expunge the anxiety, but there’s an infinite supply.

Maybe if you worked out, the nerves would go away, but why did you even have that thought? You’re going to go to a gym? Or running? No.

You sit (abnormally) silently on the couch while Osamu is on his phone. The latest episode just ended, and neither of you clicked play on the next episode yet.

He glances at you. “You okay?”

You look at him with what you hope is a neutral expression (which would say a lot with very little) but it was probably plaintive (which was saying a lot with too much).

“What are you thinking about?”

As if you don’t have enough to worry about in the future, without also having to worry about the present.

Not only are you worried about making friends, you are worried about keeping them, too.

“Being alone.”

You see him hold back an alarmed expression because he wants to withhold judgment until he hears the whole story. “When?” he asks. “And why?” He blinks at you. “And how?”

You look at him expectantly.

He looks at you expectantly back.

“You done?” you ask (harshly in a joking way.)

He gives you a look that would pair perfectly with pushing up glasses like an intellectual. “I’m trying to get accurate information,” he says. “Because you know you leave shit out sometimes.”

You look at him an acute look, but say nothing because the odds are not in your favor for contesting that statement. Because yes sometimes you tend to look on the negative side and not remember the good times when you’re down. Which is normal and fine. But sometimes it helps meter things out when you can remember the good times and not paint everything as bad (catastrophizing) (overgeneralization) (mental filter) (discounting the positive) (etc).

But you can’t tell him he’s right so you have to lie by omission. (He knows he’s right. About this. About this one thing. You don’t have to add fuel to the fire.)

“When I move.”

He nods. “That’s an understandable concern. It sucks in that in-between-period when you first move somewhere and in between when you actually meet some people you feel good about.”

You have an argument ready to go but you haven’t decided whether you are ready to argue with Osamu at this point. You’re going to lose, you know this. But you haven’t yet decided if you are okay with willingly entering an argument that you are going to lose.

You know he’s not going to let you win this one. It’s going to be super important that you at least entertain the idea that you are wrong/he is right. Maybe partly in an annoying way but mostly in a good friend way who cares about you.

Ugh.

You aren’t sure if you are ready for that.

“What?” he asks.

Hm. He’s not going to let you get away that easily.

“What?”

“I know you have something to say. You look like chili peppers are dancing around in your mouth.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

“I was going to say: bold of you to assume I will actually meet some people I will feel good about.”

You expected his unimpressed stare so you think you are affected by it a little bit less since you were expecting it.

A little.

“Why don’t you think you will meet some people you will feel good about?”

You shrug. “I’m bad at meeting people.”

“Since when?”

You scowl. “I’m shy!”

“You are not shy.”

“Yes I am!”

“They should make you feel comfortable to be yourself! That’s their fault.”

Hm. Interesting perspective, but that’s not going to work. The world is not going to bend over backwards to accommodate you. You have to be stronger and better.

You can’t. You don’t know how. But you have to. You have to figure it out, otherwise, why are you just here on this planet to suffer? What’s the point?

You’ve lost a lot of friends throughout your school career, and you’ve taken it pretty hard. And you’ve taken it personally. You want to cling to the ones you have left. It was so hard to make friends here, and you honestly don’t know how it even happened, the few you have left. But how can you when you’re going away? People want to make new friends in their new stages of life. You’re going to be on the backburners if you even get a spot on the stove. You might not. You might be left behind and forgotten.

And you just have to be okay with that since that’s how life goes.

That sucks. You don’t want to be okay with being sad and hurting.

You don’t want to leave things up to chance. You have no control over what’s going to happen when you get there. And you don’t want to be alone. Why would you assume that you can show up somewhere and meet the people right for you?

But this is the way (American) society has been defined. You grow up in a community for a certain number of years and then you leave to go to a different community. There’s not always geographic closeness between people who are emotionally close.

The first few months of university are tough for a lot of people. But that’s not on the forefront of your mind. What you compare yourself to is who you think arrives on campus, and runs with it. People who post big group pictures the first week on campus, their Snapchat stories filled with different events every night.

That’s not going to be you.

While there’s no certainty in life, you feel safe creating certainties within your own world view. You have a lot of rules, explanations, that make sense in your head. Who’s going to tell you they don’t make sense? It might not be fair for you to characterize things in that way. It’s not 100% accurate. You leave out certain bits and pieces to make these overarching rules “fit.” But the world isn’t fair to you either, so why do you need to be fair?

You are grateful for the friends you have had throughout your life, but you have not been able to explain the losses. You haven’t been able to let those go. You still feel pain from them. And there’s no reason to expect that the friends you have now are going to give you the same time and energy that they do now when they go to college. In fact, that’s physically impossible. They are going to add more people into their lives and the time they have for you is going to be less. And people always spend the most time on what is directly in front of them.

You are used to long distance friendships, internet friendships. It’s easier for you, with social anxiety, to talk online, where people can’t see you, where you can take time to respond. Because you are so “relaxed” behind a screen, you can actually think of stuff to say. In the moment, with people staring you down, you never have anything to say.

You aren’t going to thrive in an in person environment. And you haven’t been able to develop the social skills that would help you create a safe and fun environment for you. But, since you didn't have these experiences as a child, how are you going to recreate them as an adult in adult settings? You don't have the confidence to approach people or make friends. You aren’t confident in your ability to surround yourself with the “right” people for you. You’ve never had that experience of feeling like you could find or attract people who liked you for you.

You’ve waited for so long and you don’t know why anything will be different now.

You don’t want to be alone. And you don’t know how to create an environment where you won’t be alone. No matter how hard you try, you are always sad and alone. You can’t escape it.

You are afraid of people hurting you on purpose. You feel dispensable. You feel like someone who people won’t care about genuinely or fully.

Part of you want to have hope that all of this can change. Part of you wants to have hope that you can be a different better person when you go to college.

Even though you’re ready for change and you want to hope for something better, you’re also not ready for things to change.

You don’t want to leave your friends, even if they aren’t right for you. Even if they aren’t the ones you’d “hoped” for. You’re still grateful for them and you still had fun sometimes.

Things are going to be different. It’s scary.

You want things to be different and better, but you don’t think they can be.

You don’t really know how to grieve the loss of relationships. You’ve never learned how. You’ve been hurt over and over and had to “move on,” but not really process. You didn’t know how to “process” it. You didn't know how to authentically integrate that truth about your life into your conscience. “Moving on” for you meant hiding your emotions from others, and hiding from your emotions yourself.

It’s a spiral of self-blame and pain you don't know how to get out of. There’s so much you don’t know. You feel helpless in trying to create the life you want.

“I believe in you,” he says. “You’ll do a good job.”

“No I won’t.”

He whines your name, sing-songing and chastising.

He nudges you after your silence. “We made friends.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You’re so awesome.”

“I don’t think most people think that.”

“They will when you meet them!”

“I am bad at first impressions.”

“First impressions aren’t everything.”

“No one has ever said that.”

“That’s just fake capitalist business mumbojumbo. That only applies to job interviews.”

He is proud of himself for making you quirk a smile. He’s usually very attentive so he doesn’t miss your quiet and quick exhale-laugh.

“Making friends is a really mysterious process, but you will figure it out.”

“Nothing ever gets magically figured out for me,” you say. You don’t say “life isn’t that simple” because that’s a little too dark and depressing. Even though that’s how you feel. Not that Osamu ever insinuates that you shouldn't express your full and true feelings to him. But you get lost in your own thoughts and fears and worries, that you will eventually one day be too much for him and he will leave. You wish you could be toned down in real life. But well. You’re like this.

“I don’t think you need to worry about this now since you haven’t gone there and tried yet,” Osamu says. “But there’s really no pressure to make anything happen that you aren't ready for or that you don't want or that you aren't comfortable with. So I’m just going to put this out there: some people don’t find their best friends until the end of college. And some people don’t find best friends in college at all. No matter what, it’s okay.”

You conveniently don’t register the first part of his sentence in your brain. So what you receive is: he is preparing you for failure, because of course you are a failure and can’t do anything right and you aren’t normal so you aren’t going to have a normal experience like normal people will.

Logically, Osamu can’t actually read your mind. Because in real life you have to communicate your thoughts to other people if you want them to know (tragic). But you look at him curiously, in case he does somehow know exactly what you are thinking.

“Right?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say.

“Did I say anything unreasonable?”

“Hm.”

“If I’m right just say that I’m right,” he grins.

You blink at him slowly. “Anyway,” you say, turning around.

He squawks indignantly. “Why?” he pleads.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Yeah, I’m right?”

You stare at the wall like a movie is playing on it.

“Fine,” he says. “But anyway—you won’t know unless you try. And there’s no reason to hold yourself back from success. You’re going to do great.”

“I’m going to crash and burn. I’m not going to be able to handle it.”

His eyebrows crease in concern. He squeezes your shoulder. “You will be able to handle it.”

“I’ll never make friends without someone holding my hand, and basically doing it for me,” you say.

“What does that mean?”

“Like, you’re going to tell me everyone you know who’s going to my college, right?” you ask. “If I don’t have an outgoing friend who knows everyone, where would I start?”

“Isn’t that normal?” he asks.

“What?”

“For people to meet through mutual friends.”

“Yeah.”

“So it’s okay, right?”

You don’t answer. .

“Is it okay to accept help?”

“Why are you asking me?”

He sighs. “You don’t have to do everything yourself. It’s not more valid because you did it yourself. You don’t have to be less proud of yourself because you need help to do something.” He pauses in case you are going to respond.

You don’t.

“And it’s not even help. I’m just connecting you guys. Give yourself some credit.”

“But I would never be able to meet up with them without this. I might never have met them.” How do you explain to him that not being able to do it yourself is terrifying? That things being out of your control is terrifying?

“Maybe so. Life works in mysterious ways.”

You suppose maybe he’s not missing the point, but rather, regular people are just somehow okay with all of this, and well adjusted to life being random and chaotic. As opposed to life being controllable. Control is an illusion, and even if you think you’ve been able to control life, you honestly haven’t even anyway. And if you could control life, why wouldn't you have given yourself a better life?

Confusion.

“It will be fine,” he says. “It’s all an experience. You can always try new things to meet new people and you can get over social anxiety. Or you can find some way to make sure that you can work around it to have the life you want. And there’s so many people at college, so you don’t have to worry about messing up because you can always go meet new people.”

You can’t believe you have revealed so much information to him that he knows exactly which aspects of fear you have going on right now.

“And it’s not personal. It’s not always about you.”

“It feels that way.” That also doesn’t click at all. It must be about you. Even if you can perceive other reasons (other than you) why someone might have to stop being your friend, there still feels something personal about it. Why were you the dead weight that couldn't come along? Why were you incompatible with the new life change? You look at Osamu, and you hope he doesn’t see the appraising look in your eyes, scouring, analyzing, detecting for the reason in the future he will leave.

He knows you, though. So maybe he knows what you’re thinking.

He pats your head. “I’m sorry. I know once you believe in yourself more, you’ll understand what I mean. But you’ll have to trust me for now.”

That’s the whole problem, though, is you can’t trust anyone.

You don’t say that now, because you know he’s trying to help. And you are grateful for the time and attention. Your brain wildly speculates whether you only get time and attention if you are in crisis. That sounds exhausting and not healthy. But you are pretty sure that you hang out with people even when you are happy and fine. You don’t remember anything right now, but you’re also not trying very hard to prove yourself wrong.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing, continue,” you say.

“And even if some people don’t like you, there will be people who do. And it’s their loss anyway.”

“Yeah.” You can’t comprehend how it would be a loss to not have you. But it’s because you really don’t fully comprehend why your friends give you the time of day anyway. It’s something you will have to accept for now because you have friends who aren’t going to leave you. The friends who aren’t in your life anymore don’t have to set a template for how your current friends or future friends will act. And people may leave for different reasons, and it doesn’t have to be about you. And you are slowly learning and growing into a person who can take care of their own needs and emotions, who can be a better person to themselves, and a better friend to others.

He grabs your hand and puts it in both of his. “It will be okay and you will always have me.”

“People pay most attention to what’s right in front of them.”

“Are you saying we won’t be friends when we go to college?” he asks.

You shrug.

“I take offense to that, you know,” he says. “Why are you trying to dump me?”

“I’m not going to dump you. I can’t afford to do that. I need you.”

“I need you, too.”

“You don’t.”

“How can you say that? Do you know me at all?”

“You have so many other friends. You would be okay without me. I don’t have that.”

“I would not be okay without you,” he says. “I am so grateful to have you in my life.”

You look at him sadly.

“Have you been thinking that this whole time?” he asks. “That I don’t value you?”

You can’t answer that without hurting him.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“Better to clear that up now rather than later. You better not ghost me when you get to campus.”

“I won’t,” you say.

“Promise?” he demands.

“I promise,” you say.

“Good,” he says. “And even if we find people that fulfill other needs in different ways, it doesn't mean there doesn't have to be room in our lives for each other.”

You want to believe that. You didn’t realize that was what you wanted to hear. You wish you could believe it, but you don’t want to believe it.

“You’re going to do a great job,” he says. He grabs your shoulders and brings you to him in an awkward hug.

“Thank you,” you say, cheek smashed into his chest and nose squished against his arm. You wriggle out of his tangle of an embrace and hug him properly.

“You always have to have the final word, huh?” he asks.

“No, I think that’s you,” you say.

He flicks an eyebrow up and you grin at him. He takes that as a sign of a successful conversation. Nothing is going to be magically fixed, as you said, but there is hope, still. The future is not certain, and you can try your hardest, and be forgiving and gentle and loving towards yourself.

You are enough. You are enough to be loved unconditionally, and you are enough as you are. You don’t have to change anything about yourself to be loved. You’re okay, and things will be okay.

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