delude || oikawa.t x reader

|16| please hold me

"I'm watching you from here, just so you know,"

"So you're gonna watch us kiss, hm?"

"As if she wants to kiss you!"

"Ouch, that's mean..."

Tooru sulks, gripping his chest pretending that he's hurt by Semi's words. In reality, it really does hurt. He, for once, is not sure if (F/n) will even accept his feelings, yet alone to let him kiss her without the probability of her pushing him off of her, and to run away once more. 

The room has a faint smell of lemon, must it's mostly paint. Is it acrylic paint? Smells like it. Tooru's eyes falls onto the pile of canvas, beside them were a bunch of paint. Each stroke of her brush that's painted on the canvas is so beautiful, yet it's so devastating at the same time. As if she's painfully letting her emotions gush out by the tip of her brush.

Then, he shifts to her peaceful sleeping figure.

He misses her so dearly, and if she even knows she could never write it down with words. Her skin is pasty and her lips are dry. Tooru winces by the sight, no matter how breathtaking she is, there's no doubt that (F/n)'s condition isn't the best, and it's all because of his damned confession.

Tooru stares at her with such dreamy eyes, gently tucking in her hair behind her ear as he leans closer to her on the bed. 

It turmoils him how someone so wondrous like (F/n) is a person who holds so much negativity.

She's Pluto, and he's Saturn.
But in the end, they're just another star for each others' lives. 

Then, his studious gaze wanders to a certain diary, a diary that's the sole reason of the existence of 'Boring'. A leather covered book that's visibly sordid by the dust that's covered by every inch of the cover. "What book is this?" Tooru asks Semi, still looking at the book placed on her desk beside the bed, reaching after it curiously.

"It's a diary," Semi answers honestly, which piques Tooru's interest even more.

"You're letting me read your sweet (L/n)'s diary?" he smirks, linking his finger on the cover devilishly. The ash blonde haired boy frustratingly taps his foot in a displeased manner. Then, he sighs from his nose to wind up with the most eerie and satisfied smile.

"I think you'll understand if you read that book carefully,"

Tooru could almost taste the evoking smell of lavender in his tongue. Skimming through each pages, it differs each colors into dust. The diary belongs to someone else, and (F/n) (L/n) was firm about creating a book out of it, despite the writer's obvious toxic reasons. Some part of the diary goes;

'my mom told me that i'm her favorite punching bag, but her cuddling is too painful. my dad told me i should go out and buy him some special potions for him to drink, i wonder if i can try them out too one day?'

'they stopped bothering me. i was no longer mom's punching bag, she doesn't cuddle me anymore, my dad doesn't want me to buy his drinks anymore. did i irritate them? did they stopped loving me? what did i do wrong?'

'i almost forgot about this diary. it reminds me how pathetic i am now and before, i wish i could go back in time and kill the younger version of myself so he doesn't have to witness his dull future.' 

'everything was going fine, until i meet (f/n). she's so carefree, she's the total opposite of me. i hated everything about her, i wish i can strangle her to death due to that pitiful look she gives to me everyday. stop looking at me like that.'