Haikyuu x Reader

Miya Atsumu - Missing Pieces

You just shrugged. "I guess not." Yes.

"Then don't worry about it." Atsumu tugs his jeans up and takes a look at himself in the mirror. He ruffles his hand through his hair in a poor attempt to give it some extra volume. You watch him make a few dumb facial expressions at himself. Satisfied, he pulls his hat over his head. With wallet and phone in hand, he finally turns to look at you. "Okay. I'll see you later," he states plainly, walking past you and out the bedroom door.

"Do you have your keys?" The only answer you receive is an annoyed jingle of his keyring from the other room.

The thud of front door closing is the sole sign that he had left. There were no final shouts of "Bye, princess! I love you!" "I love you more, 'mu!" "I love you most!" Those days have long since past. They had been replaced with eerie silences and quick exits from both parties. Life in the current household was far from what it had been a year ago. There were no soft shared kisses just because. No gentle teases as the evening news played in the background. No long cuddle sessions on the couch because both of you were too lazy to get up to go to bed. There was no smacking his hands out of the mixing bowl while you tried to make dinner.

Atsumu wasn't home long enough for those things anymore. He'd come running in from practice, quickly shower and change out of his sweaty clothes. And as fast as he came, he would be gone, maybe shouting "I'm going out with the guys!" but usually, he would just leave, the slam of the door echoing through the house.

You kept telling yourself that this would pass. He was just excited to finally be achieving his dreams. Of course he would want to hang out with his new teammates and friends. There was a level of trust there that he needed to build with them as their setter and if crowding around Hinata's television, playing video games was how they bonded, then so be it. Who were you to tell his team how they should and shouldn't spend their time? But this had been going on for months.

Months of no hellos and no good mornings. Months of Atsumu coming home late, the faint smell of alcohol on his breath as he tucked into bed an arm's length away from you. He returned affection with the minimum amount of effort, maybe a short apology as he broke away from a kiss, explaining that the guys were waiting for him. It felt like a wedge had been shoved between the two of you, the rest of the Black Jackals jamming you further and further away from him.

Part of you kept hoping that you would wake up, secured in his arms, a gruff "Good morning" whispered in your ear only followed by a soft whine as you tried to get out of his grasp, causing him to just pull you tighter into his chest. You kept hoping that whatever switch flipped in his head to cause this would flip back and the Atsumu that you fell in love with would come back to you, but it never happened. He just kept straying away, not even bothering to look back at how far he had drifted.

You had hoped today would be different. It wasn't every day that the two of you accomplished four years of putting up with each other's bullshit. But, when his alarm sounded and he just got up like nothing was different, that slight bubble of hope that was buried in your chest popped. Maybe- maybe he just wanted to focus before practice. Yeah, that's all this was. Surely, he hadn't forgotten, right? Atsumu could be a jerk, but he wasn't that much of an asshole. He wouldn't have forgotten your anniversary.

"What's this for?" he had asked as he took the neatly wrapped package from you as he sat down at the table, his bowl of cereal nearly empty.

So, he did forget.

"I'll open it later. I'm going to try to get a run in before practice." You didn't even have the chance to wish him a happy anniversary before he got up to put his bowl in the sink, headed out of the room to slip on his sneakers for his jog.

So, now, as you sat in your shared bed, it felt like the unopened package was staring intently into your soul, mocking you for your failing relationship. Four years of laughter, excitement, and love seemed to mean nothing to him and you couldn't figure out what you did to make him choose volleyball. It was his dream and you understood that. You would never keep him from being the man he always dreamed of being.

It tore you apart inside, this feeling of absolute failure. It had been bugging you for a while now, but this- that stupid box sitting on his side of the bed, was your breaking point. You didn't understand what you did. Why was he pushing you away? Did you not support him enough? Did he think that you didn't care for him? As the questions weighed heavily on your mind, you felt that all-too-familiar sting of salty tears forming in your eyes.

You shook your head, silently begging for the tears to just go away. I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. He wasn't upset, so you shouldn't be either, right? But, you were. You were devastated that no matter how hard you tried to put everything back together, the pieces just kept slipping out from between your fingertips and just as soon as everything felt like it was all coming back together, Atsumu would be holding the final pieces to puzzle, refusing to snap them into their place. In his hands, he held the most important pieces. Those gorgeous center parts that brought the entire picture into focus, showing off the breath-taking beauty of it. But, as of now, it was just the background, the few random bits and bobs, scattered around the scene, each beautiful in their own way, but meaning nothing without the center point of the image.

The worst part? You didn't know when the pieces of your relationship went scattering all over the place, leaving you to scramble, picking everything up on your own while Atsumu was at practice or hanging out with the guys. You just know that it's felt like ages since everything was put together in perfect harmony.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to pull your hair from your head so you could feel something, anything, other than this complete and utter worthlessness and despair that had been swelling within your chest, waiting to be let out.

The hot tears rushed down your face in torrents, but apart from your gentle sniffs, there was silence. There were no sounds of pitiful weeping. It was an art that you had learned to perfect after many nights where these feelings washed over you, not wanting to wake Atsumu, not wanting him to stare at you with blank eyes and tell you to, "Stop crying and go to bed."

But, right now- right now, you didn't care. You wanted to hear his voice in your ear, shushing you, reassuring you that everything was fine, just like it used to. The line rings, rings, rings -

"You've reached Miya Atsumu. Sorry that I missed your call, but if you leave me a message, I'll get back to you!"

The beep that signals you to leave your message is what urges you to just hang up. You toss your phone to the side, hoping that, just maybe, he'll notice your missed call and give you a call back or even just a text message would be good enough for you.

But, there never was. There was no soft ting at the sound of an incoming message. You never heard the ringtone that had been set to Atsumu's contact, signifying that he had called you. You waited hours, your eyes being dry for a long while at this point, leaving just the shell of a broken person in your place. Your gaze never left that stupid box. You were entranced, staring at the black and gold paper, watching it sheen as it would catch the light slipping in from the window.

Not even the sound of the swinging open could pull you out of your emotionless gaze. Miya Atsumu just stared into your face, eyes red and puffy, streaks in your make-up where the tears removed your foundation. Somewhere deep within his chest, there was a soft pang of sadness. There was nothing that he hated more than seeing you so distraught that you completely shut down. Yet, he said nothing. He simply pulled a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his drawer, pulling his clothes off his body to change into something that he could sleep in. His shirt came off and your gaze became fixated on his toned chest.

But, even your empty eyes knew the bright red lines of scratches and the harsh purple bruises of a hickey when you saw them.

"'Mu?"

Me, writing and posting consistently for Tumblr: yeah this is swell

Also me, forgetting to post the fics here too: *has like 6 pieces that need to be uploaded*

N E WAYYYY.  Do not fret, my darlings.  Part two to this piece (Broken Pieces) and part two to Drunken Words (Sober Thoughts) are already in the works :)