AU: Regular (Breakup + New boo)
Requested
Tags: GN!Reader, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of alcohol, time skip spoilers, and a lot of implied happenings so read carefully to get context
Word Count: 6k+
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
The gym was loud, constantly being filled with the screams of boys running around the meshed fabric as they sent balls flying in every direction. Maybe a crude description despite your knowledge of the sport, but you thought it was fitting as you watched from the sidelines next to the silver setter with a bruised knuckle.
The volleyball player winced, as you slowly moved the joint. You looked up to his panting figure, watching as he took back a large gulp of iced water with his head tilted back. A small bead of sweat trickled down the length of his neck, racing down to meet the collar of his white shirt, now turned a translucent grey in some spots from absorbing sweat off of his neck and face. You handed him a small towel, warmth dancing along your cheeks like pin needles, eager to hide the view from your sight.
With nimble fingers, you wrapped the swollen digit gently with medical tape, attaching it to the one next to it. "Koushi," you sighed. "You're meant to set the ball, not jab your finger into it."
"I know, I know. I just messed up," he laughed, giving his taped fingers a little wiggle as he removed them from your grip. "Have you heard anything from the universities yet?"
You shook your head, kissing your teeth to make a small tsk escape you as you packed up your small medkit. "Nothing. Those places don't deserve me anyway, I've got bigger things coming my way. I just know it." Despite your bravado, you could feel the small shake in your chest.
Koushi sent you a big grin, giving you a silent boost of confidence, before standing up. "You finished with the Med-club, right? I hope I didn't pull you out too early."
"We finished up early today, so don't worry." With a big swing of your bag, you got to your feet. "I'm gonna head home, okay?"
"(L/N)!" You heard Hinata call from the other end of the gym. "Come join us and play for a bit! Your boyfriend can teach you some more!" He bargained, desperately hoping you could stay longer in case a ball found his nose to be an attractive place to slam into. Though, he would never say that loud, too prideful and easily picked on for that.
"No can do, Hinata," you laughed, making him pout and let his shoulders fall with the weight of his arms. You turned to look at Koushi again, enjoying the practice of looking into the dark olive-green colour of his eyes.
"Do you want me to walk you? It's getting kind of late," he asked following your footsteps to the metal doors, ignoring the yells of his younger teammates calling for him to return.
You zipped up your large coat, preparing for the cold outside that would surely try to bite at any uncovered skin. Rising onto your toes, you pecked the small mole that delicately sat next to his eye. "I'll be fine, Koushi," You replied, stepping out onto the concrete stairs. "Love you."
"Love you too, get home safe."
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
Your breath wavered as you opened the email that waited in your inbox.
It was early in the morning, maybe around 6 am, the rest of your family was still asleep and you were quivering in your desk chair trying to build up the courage of opening the blasted email that waited in your inbox. Your mouth felt grimy, still sour from just waking up. You grimaced, wincing at the sunlight that decided to peek out from behind the clouds and pierce your eyes.
Weaving your fingers together, you brought the bridge of your nose, right between the brow, to rest against them. You took in a deep breath, feeling your heart trying to rip it's way out through your sternum. This moment could be the beginning or end of your career.
As you moved the cursor to sit above the email, you spared a glance at the delicately hung photo on the wall behind your monitor. The tape had held on strong for the last couple of years. Koushi told you that 'it wouldn't last' when you first stuck it up. The clear tape hasn't given up yet. Your mom thinks it's a good omen. You just think she spends too much time looking at horoscopes on Facebook. Either way, you thought it was a good sign.
Huffing out a shaky breath, you looked back at the hidden message and clicked it open.
The first line, then the next, then you skipped over the rest, not needing to see much more than that.
You pushed out of your chair, nearly falling to the floor of your bedroom because of your shaking knees. The fluid in your head seemed to splash up against the side of your skull and your stomach clenched in on itself, suddenly in need of food. The floor seemed much more welcoming now that a moment ago.
Softly, you dropped to your knees and let your body flatten against the cool hardwood floor. You breathed deeply, letting the cold air calm your nerves and slow down the rushing blood in your veins. You smiled, pushing your nose into the plush carpet at the foot of your bed.
"I did it. I fucking did it."
In the hours it took for your parents to wake up, you were at your computer. The steps you had to follow were simple enough. Contact your guidance counsellor, fill in a few documents, and finally, say yes. Your hands shook the entire time
You were in the kitchen, chugging back a large glass of water when you told your mom. She nearly broke your glass in the process of yanking you into a bone-crushing hug that made you choke.
"(Y/N). Argentina, are you kidding? You better not be lying to me or else I'm gonna cry."
"You're already crying. Now please, I can't breathe here."
She reluctantly drops her hands, turning toward the refrigerator to pull out a small tupperware container filled with leftovers you didn't know you had. "So, what are you going to do?" she asked.
"Well, I have a few months before I leave. But I'm gonna search for an apartment, see if there are any part-time jobs I can apply for to get some extra money, apply for a Visa. I'll even do some language courses before I go. I—"
"(Y/N)," she interjected, taking a seat at the kitchen counter. "What about Koushi?"
You paused, letting the cold air run over your shoulders as the sudden realization of the situation made itself known at the front of your mind. "Oh, right. Well, I only plan to be there for a year, then I can come back and do university here right? Koushi will get it, he'll understand."
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
He did not understand.
"What do you mean you're leaving? You said you were going to go to Miyagi U."
Maybe your timing was wrong. It probably would have been better to tell him after his volleyball practice when he was tired. You bounced on your toes excitedly, letting out a tiny whine as you waited for him to slow the sound of his rattling to a stop.
"I said I would apply, and I did. But unlike you, Mr. Smarty Pants, I haven't heard from them, but I have heard from that apprenticeship in San Juan. And I want to go."
It was cold out, the late-February wind decided today would be perfect for freezing winds. You shivered in your coat, desperately wanting to join the rest of his team inside the warm gym. You kicked your feet in the dusty snow of the ground.
Koushi shut his eyes tightly, making his nose scrunch as he bit his lip. Twitching fingers moved against his arms before finding home in his elbows. He sighed. "But what's wrong with staying here?"
You jumped. "Nothing, Koushi. You know there's nothing wrong here, you must know that. It's not like I'll be gone forever. Just a year to get some experience, and then I'll be back before you know it." Your voice seemed to shake, and you desperately hoped it was from the cold.
He exhaled slowly, head down and eyes staring between the metal doors of the boy's gym. His voice was dulled, flattened, so tired. He didn't meet your gaze, letting you stare at his silver hair for a couple of unbearable seconds.
"Koushi, aren't you happy for me?"
"I am happy for you, (Y/N)," he said, continuing to stare through the doors. "I just— I'll talk to you later."
You watched silently as he walked up the concrete steps of the gym. The burning in your chest grew as he began to push the door further open, not sparing a glance over his shoulder.
"I love you, Koushi."
There was no response as the doors shut behind him.
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
"Daichi," you panted out from the gym doorway. "Is he gone?"
The following weeks until the end of the school year left radio silence between you and Koushi. You never found him in the hallways, or his classrooms before lunch, he even seemed to leave volleyball practice before club times were over. If hurt less than you thought it would, but the 'later' he referred to that day seemed to never come.
"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he replied, dropping his gaze to the wood floor.
The sad stares of the boy's volleyball team dug into your skin like dull knives. Your feet suddenly seemed a lot more interesting of a sight.
You sighed, "Don't apologize. I'll try again tomorrow."
That walk home felt worse than the last.
You wanted nothing more to slump into your bed, ignoring the final assignments that you still had neglected to hand in. Before you on the computer's monitor was one of these assignments, slowly printing out as you dug your forehead into the hardwood of your desk. With closed eyes, you listened to the whirring of the machine as the loose pieces of paper slowly poured out of the machine. Something fell onto the table. A small, stiff object that seemed to flutter before hitting the hard table.
Lifting your head you looked up to your wall. Right there. You held your breath as you looked at the lonely piece of tape that stuck to the wall. Quickly rising to your feet, your eye darted to the surface of your desk below the offending tack on the wall. Facedown, in a pile of wires that trailed to your computer, was the photograph. You delicately picked up the polaroid, inspecting the bent corner.
Sighing, you ran to your closet, pulling out an old brown box from the top shelf and throwing it onto your bed.
The next couple of hours were filled with frustrated groans and rustling of clothes as they were torn off their racks and into the dusty box. Various photos and decorations were torn off your walls and added to the sad pile with one last sigh. You ripped the necklace that sat at the collar bone of your neck, wrapping it around the small polaroid and setting it on top of the boxed pile.
You could feel your throat clamp closed as you tried to breathe in slowly. The sleeves of your sweater felt ruff against your puffy eyes. You choked.
"(Y/N), is something wrong?" Your mom peaked in through the crack in the doors opening, brows pinching together.
A cold breath escaped your tired lungs as you turned to face her. "Ya, everything's fine. Hey, could you maybe help me book my flight?"
The corners of her lips were still pulled downwards, concern evident, but she tried her best to give you a happy smile. It just couldn't reach her eyes. "Of course."
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
Cloaked in black, you watched your graduating class poor out of the school doors in waves, each one happily carrying their protected diplomas in the palm of their hands. You gave them smiles as they walked by. From the driver's seat, your mom watched you through an open window, occasionally looking back to read the diploma in her hands.
"Are you sure you want to do this, (Y/N)?" She asked, poking her head out.
You gripped the sides of the box tighter. "I may not want to, but I haven't been given a choice in the matter."
She let out a sad sigh, "There's always a choice."
"Not this time. Sugawara hasn't given me the luxury."
For him to walk out of the school doors with a bright smile of his face was a punch to the face, breaking your nose. The trio of boys laughed happily as they swung their diploma filled hands in the air. Your knees shook as you waited for them to come closer to the exit.
You don't know who saw you first, but within a matter of seconds, your mother pulled the car up the road and you were face to face with the silver-haired boy.
Swallowing the frog in your throat, you pushed the heavy old box into his chest, smudging a bit of dust onto his black uniform.
"What's all this?" he asked, raising a brow teasingly.
You tried not to scoff, "It's not a present if that's what you're thinking."
Propping it onto his knee, Sugawara flipped up the lid of the box, peering inside. His brow changed, pushing to meet in the center of his face. Dropping the lid, he continued to hold the fuddled expression as he looked at you. "Are you breaking up with me?"
"More like finalizing what you started," you pushed out quietly.
"(Y/N), please, you can't just—"
"Just what?" you asked, pushing yourself to speak louder as you met his eyes. "Just cut you off after not seeing you for weeks? I didn't even know if your injury healed!" you stopped, breathing slowly as you tried your best to calm the vibrating nerves in your body. "I don't know what you were expecting, but if it wasn't this, you're an imbecile."
He tipped the box open again, taking hold of something from the top. "I didn't think—"
"Obviously," you huffed hastily. "Look, I've got to go. I have somewhere to be." You stepped back slowly, suddenly finding the view of your mom's car much more interesting.
The space between you felt larger than it has been in weeks despite being only an arm's reach away. You breathed in deeply. You spun on your heel, turning to the old car, only to be stopped by the dusty box pressing into your stomach as Sugawara rushed to block off your path.
"Where are you going? We still need to talk about this."
"There's nothing more to say. Now please, I need to go." You tried to walk around, but he quickly sidestepped in your way.
"Where?"
You let out an annoyed huff. "I have a plane to catch."
He pushed forward, head falling over the box as he tried to get closer. "A plane? Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"
"How was I supposed to, huh?" you screeched. "I saw no hide nor hair from you for weeks, and you expect me to tell you I'm leaving when you're the one that was purposefully avoiding me?!"
You could feel the stares of your school mates as they slowly walked past like traffic around a car accident. The anger that was bubbling in your stomach was overflowing so much that you thought you were going to puke. Despite everything in your body telling you not to, you continued.
"You just ghosted me, even worse, you cut me off. Not once did you try to reach out, or talk to me, you never told me your qualms or worries. I would've listened." The tears that poured down your face only stung the wound more. "But, you didn't tell me anything. So I'm leaving. You have no say in that anymore, not now."
"(Y/N), I—"
"Bye, Sugawara."
This time, as you bent your body around his to continue down the sidewalk, he didn't stop you.
Once in the passenger seat of your mom's car, you pushed your head back into the plush seat and closed your eyes, letting all the air in your lungs slowly roll off your tongue. The blood in your head throbbed loudly, making your ears hurt. You pushed back the seat, lying as flat as you could with the suitcases that were propped behind it. A sniffle escaped.
Foot pressing on the gas, your mom gave you a pitiful look from the corner of her eye, before shooting her gaze back to the road as she has been for the past number of stifling minutes. Reaching over, she knocked your arm off of your eyes. "I know, I know. But you can sleep on the plane," she paused for a moment, "How are you feeling?"
You swallowed harshly, "Like a demon decided to make home in my brain and eats its way to my heart." Turning your head you gave your mom a sad grin, "I'm naming it Baloo."
She laughed.
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
Economy seating, though often cramped, wasn't so bad if you weren't in front of a crying kid, or next to someone who's body odour overpowered the strength altitude had on your senses. Luckily, you got neither of them. Instead next to you sat a boy who didn't pack his headset in his carryon.
You desperately wanted to sleep off all the sourness and pain in your eyes, but the gentle sound coming out of his computer kept you awake. Through narrowed eyes, you shifted your head to watch his frozen profile stare into the bright screen in front of him and the video that played quietly among the silent passengers.
His sweater was a dull, soft yellow, colour faded after years of being worn casually. His fingers held the ends of the sleeves, covering the palms of his hands. He didn't blink, eyes shot frozen in a wide position, letting in as much light as possible
"I hate to interrupt, but don't you think you should sleep at some point?" you whispered near his shoulder.
His warm brown eyes turned to meet your suspicious gaze with a shocked expression pulling at the edges, his lips pursed together. "If I sleep now, I'll be sleeping throughout the day in Argentina. Did I wake you? I can turn it down if you'd like."
You shook your head, arching off the plush chair to let your elbow push into the armrest between you, accidentally bumping shoulders along the way. "It's alright," you said, rubbing the long since dried tears from your eyes, "couldn't sleep anyway. Is that the San Juan team?" You asked, nodding your head in the direction of the video playing on his laptop.
"Oh, ya. It is," he replied, keeping his voice low. "Do you know anything about volleyball?" he asked, brushing a bit of hair off his forehead.
You nodded keeping your eyes trained on the setters that stood in the center of the plays. "I know more than I'd like to admit."
"Really?" his voice picked up, excitement pouring through his words. "Well, I'm trying out for their team, so I want to see how they play a bit more before the tryout." He turned to face you. "You look surprised."
"Huh, oh," you laughed, trying not to bite your lip. "It's just an unlikely coincidence."
He gave you a teasing smirk, pushing his elbow to rest behind yours on the plastic armrest. "How so?"
You gulped, tempted to lean away from his curious posture. The words escaped you in a hesitant but excited nature, "I just so happen to have an apprenticeship with their medical team."
A large smile broke out onto his cheeks, nearly letting his words fall out in a tumbling yell. "Really? Then we'll be seeing each other a lot more then. That's awesome."
"If you get on the team."
He scoffed, "Oh, I'll get on. Just watch me."
"Then you'll be getting injured a lot, I presume."
The 24-hour plane ride continued smoothly. Filled with small, excited conversations in between and slightly awkward awakens on the other's shoulder after short naps. All while suspended in the air over a large body of water.
Talks about your schools and friends ran smoothly until he brought up the discoloured skin around your eyes. But, despite your apprehension, he safely maneuvered around the topic, not letting your conversation slip into an uneasy, awkward, silence. The food was tasteless, but filling, giving you both a laugh and another conversation starter, which he listened to intently, watching you ramble over how the altitude changes your ability to smell and taste. And you reciprocated when the topic of family came up and he took the opportunity to gush over his young nephew. It was nice. Very nice.
"Do you have an apartment set up near the sports centre?" he asked with a loud yawn, as you stood next to each other in the crowd, waiting for your luggage to slowly slide onto the conveyor belt. He brushed his gently swooping hair back.
You blinked slowly, desperately trying to not rub your tired eye sockets as you pulled one of your suitcases off the moving machine before it ran away. "I, ugh, was sort of in a rush to get out of Miyagi. I sort of overlooked finding a place to live," you let out a sad, self-deprecating chortle. "I fucked up, I'm a fuck up. Fuck. I'll just live on a park bench."
Your new friend let out a sharp and heavy laugh, relying on his blue suitcase to carry his weight.
"You can stop laughing, I'm being serious."
"No, you're not. Come on, I already have an apartment waiting to accommodate my tired ass. You can stay with me. We can live more frugally. You only plan on being here for a year right?"
You sighed, giving in and using the back of your wrist to rub your eyes. "That was the plan. But," you paused, looking at the contact information on our suitcase for a moment. "I'm not sure if I have much to go back to now."
You could feel the combination of heartache and exhaustion weighing down on our shoulder after hours not being able to cope with your new relationship status. A yawn tore its way out of you.
"Well," He began. "Maybe, you'll find something to stay for. Now come on," He said, offering you a cluttered elbow to hook your bag covered arm into, "We've got an apartment to fill."
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
Sugawara sat in the center of his small on-campus residence flipping through the various textbooks that stacked on top of each other across his small desk. His head pounded at the temples as he searched for a key sticky note he had left somewhere in the many pages. The old box laid untouched at the end of his dorm bed next to Sawamura, who for once, seemed uncaring of his friend's personal space.
"What are you gonna do with all this stuff anyway?" he asked, lifting one of Sugawara's worn out sweaters from the pile.
"Well, half of it was originally mine, so I guess I need to keep it. But can you not go through that stuff, I can't stand to look at it," the leaner, stressed man snapped over his shoulder at his friend who worked on folding the wrinkled clothes that he pulled from the offending box.
Sawamura sighed, "Dude. I hate to say it, but it's been months. You're going to have to face it eventually, and the best way to start is to go through this box." With a satisfied huff, he dropped it onto the floor.
"Daichi," Sugawara drawled, spinning in his chair, swinging an arm over the back, to look at the cardboard on the floor. "(Y/N)'s going to be stuck here with me forever, I can't change that. How am I supposed to just toss it away? I can't bring myself to do it."
Sawamura dragged his fingernails over his scalp, looking up at his long time friend from his haunched position. He wanted to look away as soon as the words came out of his mouth, not bearing the sight of his torn friend's expression. "Koushi," he said. "You already have."
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
"Oikawa, one of these days you're going to get a knee replacement I swear."
The setter rested along the length of the black faux-leather couch that was pushed against the wall of your living room, leg propped up on a large pillow as he scrolled through the various cable networks that played Spanish soap operas more often than the news. He let out a childish whine, followed by a laugh.
"It won't ever come to that, (Y/N). After all," he sent you a flirtatious smile. "You're my personal doctor."
You scoffed, dropping a fresh ice pack onto his knee, making him yelp at the sudden temperature change. "I'm not your personal anything dumbass."
"Are you sure about that?" he dropped the remote onto the short table next to him, finally settling on a show that had English subtitles running along the bottom of the large screen attached to the wall.
"You're right. I'm your babysitter," you teased, hopping away from the couch toward the kitchen.
"Hey!" he shouted, trying to follow you toward the marble counters.
"No Moving, Oikawa!"
Huffing, he crossed his arms and fell back onto the couch, pouting up to the tv. You watched his childish tantrum fizzle out as you filled up two glasses with water. It was hot out. The both of you were in loose shorts and t-shirts, desperate to get as much heat off your bodies as possible. Oikawa waited for you to come back with the cold peace offering before speaking again.
"When are you gonna call me 'Tooru'? I want to hear you say it before you leave Argentina and go back to Japan. Can't you grant me that wish?" he pleaded, nursing his cold glass in the palms of his hands, before setting it on the table next to yours.
You settled into the open space his feet left at the end of the plush couch, trying not to shift his injured leg too much. He responded to your silence by kicking his other leg over your lap, making you look at him, unamused. He prodded for an answer.
A sigh escaped you involuntarily as you stared off into the white wall of your shared apartment. "What if," you pondered, breathing in slowly with a quiet voice. "What if I don't leave? What would you want then?"
Months turned nearly a year of living together and working in close quarters had somehow turned the most wretched day of your life into a jumble of colours you could never begin to describe. Months of thinking about your next steps, reflecting over past mistakes, and dreaming of the possibilities of what could lay open, uncovered in the white wall of this apartment. You didn't know what you were going to do come the date of your planned return to Japan, but you did know what you wanted here.
You slowly turned your dazed eyes over to the injured setter that sat next to you, the earnest emotion in his eyes rolled into you, not letting you look away or blink.
His hand came to wrap around your arm as he shifted as close as he could without bending his knee. The hand then slowly trailed down to hold yours. He never broke eye contact for even a second. Your free hand came to grip the hem of his shirt tightly, knuckles brushing over the taut skin above his hip bone.
"If you decided to stay, would you let me be a little selfish?" His voice was barely over a whisper, breath smoothly mingling with your own. So gentle that it would have been difficult to hear over the tv if you were even an inch farther away.
"Tooru—"
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
"What?!" the younger man screamed, grabbing the attention of the other diners that were eating in the small bar/restaurant. Making them all glare at his copperhead for interrupting their meals.
"Four years and you're as loud as ever. Would you calm down for once? Yes, okay? I am, we are," Oikawa huffed, waving the younger man down as he desperately tried the more than spiteful looks that were sent their way.
"I haven't seen (L/N) in forever. I didn't think I'd see them again."
The two men sat in a small seaside restaurant with a view of the beach right outside the large open windows, both tired from a day of playing in the sand with a couple of competitive strangers. The city was still alive hours after the sun had set. People were out at parties, drinking wine in fancy restaurants, or dancing to music that blared over the loudspeakers in the more populated streets.
Hinata slowly lowered himself back into the wooden chair, hopping slightly to get it tucked underneath the table again. With raised brows and pinched lips, the carrot top shifted his elbows onto either side of his near-empty plate, watching with wrapped attention as Oikawa took a bite from the large steak that sat on the porcelain platter.
"Well, since you're in Brazil, why don't you join? We can probably even sneak in a game at the beach afterwards," he said with a hand over his mouth as he chewed away at the juicy slab of meat. "We just can't let (Y/N) know."
"Are you sure you want me there?" Hinata asked as he set his glass of water down. "I don't want to intrude or anything."
"It's gonna be a small event and reception, so there won't be a lot of people, and you'll meet my teammates. Besides," Oikawa gave the eager volleyball player a gentle smile. "I think it would be nice for both of us to have another old friend around."
"Everyone's gonna be speaking Spanish and English though," Hinata slumped into his chair, grimace pulling at the edge of his lips. "I can understand some English, sure, but who would I talk to? The two of you will be busy the whole time."
Oikawa spun the last bit of water in his glass slowly. "Don't worry about that, our families are flying in and so is Iwaizumi. So there will be more than a few Japanese speakers there."
Hinata sat straighter in his seat, shoulder pushing up to his ears as a large smile pulled at tanned cheeks. "Ooh? Really!" his voice rose, grabbing the attention of the irked customers around them. He lowered his voice, immediately noticing the glares sent his way. "I'd love to play a game with him too." He paused briefly. "But Oikawa."
"Hmmm, What's wrong?"
"I don't have a suit."
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
The screams of the hundreds of people in the stadium poured over everyone's heads into the lower floor where the game would take place. It was wild. People from around the globe sat in the rows of plastic chairs, yelling over each other as they tried to make their words heard. From the main halls, Sugawara stood with his long time friends, sipping away at a customary plastic cup of beer, listening to the roars of opposing fans scream their chants at each other.
"This is so crazy, isn't it? People we knew and played with, are going to be on the big stage for the whole world to see," Sawamura let out in a large breath of air. "We played with some insane kids."
Sugawara laughed, dropping his cup toward his waist. "We sure did."
"I can't imagine being on that court. The thought alone gives me shivers," Asahi chipped in with a shudder.
The three slowly began to make their way through the large crowds towards their designated seats near Japan's cheer squad. Daichi shifted his shoulders as he walked past an unwavering group that wouldn't move. "We're all going to the meetup later, right?"
The meetup. Sugawara was excited to see his old teammates and rivals again, though he was certain that the night would more than likely be filled with incoherent shouting matches over a hefty dinner made of mostly protein. He was right of course. About the large meals and loud yelling with a side of alcohol.
But he didn't expect to see you waltz in, arm in arm with the infamous Oikawa Tooru, with an Argentine officials uniform pulled fittingly onto your arms.
He spent the whole night trying to get your attention to turn his way, but you seemed to be enraptured with the conversation you held with his previous underclassmen. Hinata especially seemed to be excited to talk to you.
So he settled with watching from afar. Letting the sight of the warmly lit environment make your skin let off a healthy glow. Those hours away from you, out of reach but in his sights, made that old wound reopen in his chest. Letting his spine curl into the wooden backrest of the chair he occupied.
"(L/N)," he said, finally able to pull you away from the brunet's side and brush off Sawamura's pestering. "How— how have you been? I haven't seen you since..." his voice tapered off, suddenly realizing the situation that the little bit of liquid courage has put him into.
You gave him a large smile, maybe a bit guilty, but large nonetheless. "Ya. It sure has been. That's my fault though, I ended up staying in Argentina. Not my original plan, but it just sort of happened." Your voice raised at the end, almost as if you sounded embarrassed. The glass of water in your hand was quickly held up to your mouth.
"Well, it's nice to have you back. Maybe we can—"
"Eh, look who it is. Karasuno's designated pretty setter." Oikawa, the man that had been glued to your side all night, rarely ever lifting the arm that once again was attached to the length of your shoulders. "How have you been, Mr. Refreshing?"
"I've been good. I started working at an elementary school."
"Really?" you piped. A smile pulled your features as if you had just seen the more endearing thing. "That's amazing, Sugawara, you've always liked kids."
"Ya, I'm—"
"Oikawas!" The younger, redheaded man was at it again, yelling over the bustling crowd that filled the restaurant as he tried to run over.
Sugawara sighed, shaking his head at Hinata's antics to grab the other player's attention. He was about to yell at him to settle down before it occurred to him, successfully being the third person to cut himself off within the five-minute conversation. His brow furrowed and cheeks flushed, turning his head to look at the muscular arm that draped across your shoulders. He gulped.
"Oikawas?" he emphasized, successfully pulling your attention back to his confused gaze.
Biting your lip, you gave him a nervous smile.
In a single moment, the sound of the people around him washed away into a throbbing silence. His smile dropped and his eyes began to widen. The sight of the two people before him began to wash away all other distractions like tunnel vision. Whether it was the alcohol in his system, or his social battery running low, it didn't matter. The image was unmistakable and the recognition in his eyes told you that.
Delicately wrapped around the fourth finger of your hand, on the hands of the two people before him, were perfectly polished gold bands.
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I'll be honest. This was like 2 sentences off from including smut.... I don't write smut sooooo. Sorry buds - Bacon
Posted: 28/08/2020