What Happened In That Place || OikawaXReader

What happened in that place.

The Present.

'I wanted to tell him that day, that I loved him. But, it would have only made it worse.....I was terrified that he might not say it back.'

It has been eight years since Oikawa left for Argentina.

At first, he would text you every day telling you how much he missed you and how he wished you were here, then his texts started slowing down until they stopped coming in completely.

You tried reaching out to him instead but his number was out of service, and he answered none of your mails.

He was gone. Like he was never there. And there was nothing you could do about it.

His face was now starting to fade away from your memories and you hated it. You didn't want to let him go, not yet, when you were still so much in love with him.

You walked down the empty street behind the school, tomorrow you would be going away to New York forever.

You had got a job there as a co-operate lawyer. You were already earning more than enough here in Tokyo. Living a high-class life like that of celebrities.

You came back from Tokyo to the Miyagi District to bid goodbye to your school, where it all happened, your friends and your parents.

It has been eight years since you have been living in Tokyo alone.

Nothing much has changed around here, everything is pretty much the same.

It's like a wind tunnel, here, in this street. You had to hold the top of your jacket together. You walked steadily, head down, towards the windows by the door.

We were never going to last. You knew that.

He was excited about leaving under the perception of his advancing performance in volleyball.

He wouldn't have wanted you to be sad when he left, you knew that but that wasn't his choice to decide, he had always known everything you were thinking.

It's so rare for others to know everything we are thinking. Even those we are close to, or seemingly closest to. Maybe it's impossible. Maybe even in the longest, closest, most successful relationships, the one partner doesn't always know what the other is thinking.

We are never inside someone else's head. We can never really know someone else's thoughts. And it's thoughts that count. Thought is reality. Actions can be faked.

You get up to the window to look in. A long hall. You can't see all the way to the end. It's dark. You knock on the glass. You don't know why you want to yell but know it won't do anything.

Something moves at the far end of the hall, or maybe you have just imagined it.

"Y/n?"

You turn around to find a woman standing a few steps behind you. Average height, with long blonde hair and soft curls in the end.

She was wearing a pink gown, her hair falling perfectly down her shoulders. She was carrying a bouquet of yellow tulips and a small box of chocolate.

You ducked down away from the window to face her.

Her face was quite familiar, you remember always seeing that beautiful face.

It took only a few seconds for you to recognise her but you were still not sure if it was really her.

"Aika?"

She gave you a teary smile running to hug you.

She pulled back away from you, her eyes filled with tears.