Kissing Reo Headcanons

Kissing Reo Headcanons

Reo x gn!reader

TW: Not really sure there are any??? No gender for reader is specified, a bit suggestive, if I missed anything plz lemme know! But just in case MDNI

A/N: dividers from @benkeibear again bc I’m obsessed af

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Someone’s not a fan 🙄

☆ 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 - ,, 𝘀𝗮𝗲

summary: two months since you've broken up—sae still sees you in everything he does. it's only because he's unwilling to let you go. you're the best thing he's ever had.

warnings: gn!reader , reader wears make-up , angst , kind of fluff towards the end , second-chance romance , sae is absolutely obsessed with you , word vomit , not proof read !! word count: 6.1k a/n: jesus this was not supposed to be this long. pls ignore the cringe ass titile its a staple of my fics tbh. wrote this instead of studying for my finals—my priorities are def in check! in a sae mood and i love this trope so here we are. pulled an all-nighter for this + i wrote this in one sitting so soz if its kind of bad T^T

he feels a bit pathetic as he presses send, watching the text bubble turn a bright green. another text that will remain unanswered. it's not like he's expecting a response anyway, at this point he's given up on that.

sae falls back on the bed and runs his hand through his slightly damp hair. it doesn't feel anything like how it used to feel, when you would do it instead. he's fresh out of the shower after a long and gruelling day. practice ran over and so he didn't get to stretch after, his manager rushing him out for the next thing on his schedule: an interview. 

an interview that went poorly since all the questions were too personal—the world had moved on from his football skills, they wanted to know about his life instead. sae's never been open like that, not even to the people closest to him, and definitely not to strangers. 

plus, he thinks to himself as he stares up at the ceiling, it's not like there's anything interesting to talk about anyway. 

there's leftovers waiting for him in the fridge: takeout because he doesn't cook. he can't remember the last time he had home cooked anything. if he thinks about it a little longer, though, it would be obvious that it would have been whenever you were last around.

before you left. before he had hurt you. before the both of you gave up on each other. 

he picks at the side of his phone case, there's a groove in the plastic where he had dropped it and he drives his nail into it. sae considers sending another text—when (if) you decide to look, you might pity him and call him. 

he knows you too well to fool himself into believing that. you're not calling him, not anytime soon, probably not ever. he holds out hope anyway. sae can be optimistic when he wants to; he's trying to make amends even if you're not here to see it. 

his bedroom is a miserable sight. not much has changed about in the last few months, but it feels different now that you're not here. everything seems more drab and, vaguely, he recalls you telling him to paint the walls a different colour. 

"ever considered like- a pastel blue or something?" you had asked him one afternoon, head against his lap while you scrolled through instagram, liking whatever was on your feed. 

"i like the white," he had responded plainly, fingers messing with the necklace he had gifted you. it was a heart-shaped locket, he hadn't intended for you to put a picture of him inside, though that's what you did. 

he wonders if you kept it. it's unlikely. 

now, as he stares at the alabaster walls and ceiling, he considers changing it to pastel blue. it might remind him of you, it'll probably only stir up the guilt residing in his chest, but he writes it into his schedule anyway.  

he drops his phone on the mattress beside him, eyes closed because he can't bear to stare at the ceiling for a moment longer. it only reminds him of how quiet it is—how the tv isn't playing some random youtube video, how his record player has been untouched for two months. how you're not there to hum quietly to yourself as you go about your business. 

his phone buzzes softly and he heaves a breath. for a moment, he thinks it might be you and his heart crawls up to his throat, lodging itself there. he checks the message with bated breath, feeling his anticipation fall through at the realisation that it's from his manager. 

"you have a shoot tomorrow morning. 6AM. please don't forget." 

he checks the date quickly, staring at his calendar blankly. sae can't do anything tomorrow---he won't. not tomorrow. he sends a text dismissing his manager and telling him to clear out his schedule tomorrow. 

he receives a flurry of messages in response, none of which he reads. none of them are from you. he wonders what you're doing right now. 

it's past dinner so you've probably eaten already. maybe, you're on the couch, laptop in front of you as you finish up some work you couldn't get to earlier today. you were always good about respecting your time and his: getting your work done early enough to get started on dinner, making sure your weekend was cleared in case he wanted to go somewhere. 

thinking back on it now, he definitely didn't deserve you. sae thinks you were too forgiving, too kind, too understanding. sae thinks you let him walk all over you for too long. you should have ended things when he forgot about a date for the second time. if you had done that, he might not have been yours for as long as he got to be—he never would have fallen as hard as he did. 

if you had, he wouldn't be thinking of you now like he does every night and every morning. 

he rolls on his side, the bed is cold beneath him. he's not tired, but he forces himself to sleep anyway. he might see you in his dreams if he hurries. 

-: ✧ :-

sae stands in front of his closet, staring at all his shirts hung up on hangers. there's a folded pile of clothes on a shelf that juts out from the left—a few hoodies, four sweaters, piled atop one another. they've stayed that way for a couple months, ever since you left. they were all your favourites. 

he stares at the pile for a moment too long, then settles for a plain brown sweater and shrugs it on. his manager had messaged him early this morning just to ask if he was serious about what he had said last night. sae was so serious about it, he was in deep sleep when the message came through. 

he shuffles into the kitchen and looks through the cupboard, finding them too empty. making a mental note to go grocery shopping, he grabs a granola bar and wanders over to the balcony. 

the view he has from his apartment in tokyo is a pretty one. sae had always preferred something quieter and greener, with more trees and less pavement. you liked the city, though, and you liked speculating about the people you'd see meandering along. 

"what do you think about her?" you'd ask, nodding at the old lady rifling through her purse. her hair is dark like a raven's feathers, not a hint of grey in sight. "do you think she's on her way to a date?"

sae would scoff, bringing his cup of tea to his lips, ignoring the way it burns his tongue because you'd laugh at him for not letting it cool like you told him to. "what makes you think that? she probably has a good-for-nothing man back home."

"are you trying to say old people can't find love?" you'd respond with a playful hum. "look at her, she looks great. maybe, it's for the love of her life."

"the love of her life should accept her as she is."

then, you'd step closer to his side, "is that what you would do?"

"yeah, i'd accept you no matter how wrinkly you are."

"aw, you're sweet. i might leave you though." and then you'd laugh at his incredulous stare. he can almost hear it as he watches the woman disappear from his view. 

sae steps back inside and drops the granola bar's wrapper on his coffee table, slipping on his shoes. he's picking at the groove on his phone again. he's thinking of you again. 

he's thinking of the soft planes of your face, the way your lips would curl as you smiled. he's thinking of how long your lashes are, how they would flutter against your cheeks when you'd close your eyes. he's thinking of how you'd say his name, warm and inviting and devoted.

and as he climbs into his car, he's thinking of how you had said it the day you left. 

"you stopped trying, and i refuse to do this alone, sae."

he turns a corner and out of his neighborhood. he thinks about how your voice broke and feels sick, knuckles turning white at how hard he's gripping the steering wheel. 

his drive is silent. sae never really plays music in his car and he doesn't touch the radio because he's sick of hearing the same song over and over again. you hated the silence so you'd always play something, humming along to it. 

sometimes, you'd just sing it yourself and those days, sae remembers well. but he remembers most things about you. 

it's been two months and that's not nearly enough time for him to unlearn the sound of your voice, the shape of your face and body, and how you used to love him. (he's not really trying—too scared to forget you because memories are all he really has left of you). 

the grocery store is quiet, typical of a wednesday morning. most people are at work and their children are at school. sae browses the aisles while pretending to take interest in the things he sees, hoping it'll ward off any employees from asking if he needs any help. 

he picks up some ramen and drops it into the red basket in his hand. it's the only thing in there and he chews on the inside of his cheek. sae never cooks but he finds himself with the produce anyway, grabbing the first thing (cabbage) he sees and dropping it into his basket. 

"you can't eat out all the time." you chastised him, dropping a few carrots into your basket that you were now sharing with him. 

sae was standing idly behind you, watching you grab things, unable to imagine what the final product could possibly be. he's never bothered learning to cook and he's kind of a danger in the kitchen, according to you. "i don't eat out all the time. i eat ramen too."

you rolled your eyes, "wow, congrats. that's not any better." 

you moved in with him a week after that, he remembers. your copy of his keys are now sitting in some drawer, seemingly forgotten about even though sae seeks them out sometimes. all your keyrings are still on it. 

sae grabs a bottle of salted kombucha and decides to conclude his trip, making his way over to the cashier. she's pretty, he thinks. she does her eyeliner in the same way you do. 

he doesn't bring a reusable bag with him, he stopped doing that once you left. you were always the more environmentally conscious one. sae doesn't think he'll live long enough to see the earth explode (which you had said was morbid). 

there's barely anything in his plastic bag: the ramen, the cabbage, and the kombucha. he wonders if the girl is thinking about what he plans on doing with the cabbage. 

"um- i'm sorry," she begins and sae drags his gaze up to her once more. staring at her eyeliner, thinking about you. "can i get your number, maybe?"

she doesn't know him, he realises. or maybe she does and she's shooting her shot anyway—she's braver than most. sae hasn't tried dating in the months you've been gone, he doesn't think there's a point to it. 

two weeks ago, at a party, he tried taking someone home with him. he would never date them, they don't seem like someone who would make him tea in the morning. (something you did without fail, even if you woke up hours after him). so, he chose to sleep with them instead, hoping it might ease some of the loneliness in his bed, even just temporarily. he never made it out the door with them, leaving them behind with some excuse because he couldn't stop thinking about you.

their hand on his shoulder, trailing down his arm, and for a split second he felt you. the slight drag of your nails, the sweet scent of your perfume. the music around him and the voices of especially loud partygoers melted away just long enough for him to hear you. sae heard you say his name the same way you always did, and he left the person he had been walking out with. 

he rushed out the door too fast for his liking. if his manager had been around, he might have advised him to fix his expression lest anyone thinks that something had gone wrong at the party. 

he didn't try pursuing anyone after that.

the girl behind the counter shifts her weight from foot to foot, wringing her hands together as sae remembers what she had asked him. 

he should tell her that he's too busy for things like that. he's not looking to date. "no, i have a partner."

he surprises himself as much as he surprises her, who looks down and mutters a quick apology for taking up his time. when sae leaves the store, there's something similar to nausea swirling in the pit of his stomach.

his granola bar from this morning might have expired, he never checks these things. or, maybe he's feeling guilty for using you like you were still his; you probably have someone new anyway. 

the thought leaves him in despair as he gets into his car, his bag of things in the passenger seat. sae tries not to think about it any longer because it shouldn't matter to him what you're doing. it shouldn't matter who you're spending time with. 

the day you left, you told him that he was the one who gave up first. that he was the one who turned your relationship sour. that he was the one who saw what you two had turned into and deemed it unworthy of being saved. 

that night, as you stood in front of him, your eyes glazed over with unshed tears, he couldn't even tell you that you were wrong. 

sae knew he gave up first. sae knew that he was the one who started coming home later and later, the one who forgot about dates repeatedly, the one who didn't remember anniversaries until you brought them up first. 

he was the one who left you behind.

you were always too good for him. he sends you another text and watches the bubble stay green, like all the ones before. then, he drives without a destination in mind. 

-: ✧ :-

he had been driving for hours. the kombucha in his bag had started to grow warm, condensation wetting the plastic. 

it's been hours. he's driven past the same stores over and over again and sae wonders if someone inside has noticed. he doesn't really want to go home, not yet. driving keeps him away from the emptiness of his apartment. 

he remembers how he wanted to paint his walls and stops by a hardware place, deciding to commit to the pastel blue walls. 

it's just as empty inside as it was in the grocery store. the work day hasn't ended yet, and there's still an hour or two before school lets out. he can't really remember though, it's been a long time since sae has been in school. and anyway, he doesn't think children are rushing to spend their time at a hardware store.

they probably have better things to do, they're not as miserable as he is. 

sae grimaces as he realises how pitiful he's been as of late, making his way over to the paint chip, struggling to spot the difference between sky blue and baby blue. both seem a bit too bright—he's looking for something even softer. 

"would you like some help, sir?" someone asks from beside him. they're wearing a vest with the store's logo—a young boy with a squeaky voice. he stares at him for a second and sae watches recognition flash in his eyes.

"you're- you're itoshi sae!" he says loudly, and his voice pitches a bit higher. it's grating, sae thinks, as he nods slowly in response to the boy's excitement. 

"i'm such a big fan!" 

he tells sae how he's been following his career since he came back from spain. that was 4 years ago now, back when he met you for the first time. 

the boy seems to realise that he's being somewhat disruptive and quiets down, gathering his composure and asking sae if he needed help once again. sae waves him off and settles on 'moonlight blue', grabbing the paint and checking out.  

by the time he makes it out, it's early evening and the sky is starting to take on a pinkish hue. you liked sunsets more than sunrises because you were never much of an early riser. 

he remembers when you had pretended to be, trying to catch him meditating in the mornings. it lasted for about a week before you gave up and sae told you to simply sleep in, a hand brushing over your cheek as he placed a kiss on your forehead. 

he drives around some more, the paint rattling in the trunk, his kombucha gone completely warm in the passenger seat. his manager has sent him a few more texts but he looks past those notifications and opens up his messages with you instead. 

it's not good for him, reading your old conversations, but he does so anyway. before the texts turned green and before he stopped existing in your world. he always scrolls a bit faster when he hits the months that preceded the break-up—the ones where you'd send him text after text and he would respond with a single word. 

the guilt eats him up like a starving animal, jaw nearly unhinged as it sinks its teeth into him and rips, leaving him to bleed. his heart aches and sae can hardly stand it; he doesn't know what to do with himself when he thinks about how things had ended with you.

time is meant to heal all wounds, but with every passing day, it seems like his cuts only grow deeper. still, he hopes one day that they'll scab over until all that remains are a few memories with you he cherishes too much to let go. when that day comes, he hopes he can think about you with ease. he hopes he can allow himself to remember you fondly. 

sae scrolls until he sees you calling him ‘love’ and ‘darling’ and slows to a stop to read over the messages for the nth time since you left. they’re all rather mundane, but that’s expected. sae liked it—the normalcy you brought was unlike anything else in his life. staring at these messages, he wonders how he let himself treat you like an obligation instead of someone he loved and wanted to be with. 

you’ve always deserved better than him. it’s unfortunate, then, that itoshi sae is quite selfish. 

-: ✧ :-

he takes himself to a ramen place on the outskirts of the city, where greenery is less sparse and neighbourhoods lay quiet in the distance. it’s a quaint shop, one that isn’t too familiar to sae—he can’t remember the last time he went anywhere outside of the city. it was where you liked to stay, so it’s where he stayed too. 

none of your planned vacations ever worked out thanks to his unpredictable schedule. sae used to tell you that it was out of his control, and he used to ignore the way the sparkle in your eye would dim when he’d let you know he wouldn’t be able to make it. 

it wasn’t right, they way he treated you. he would encourage you to make the trip by yourself but you never did, mumbling that there was always next time. he reminds himself that he never deserved you, never deserved all that you gave him. 

as he drives down this dimly lit road, he thinks about his own hometown. about his childhood home and his bedroom that he hasn’t gone into since he first arrived back from spain. his mother asks him every once in a while to visit and he did go, once. when he left, his mother asked him to bring his partner around next time—she’s heard so much about them to never meet them. 

sae hasn’t told her that the two of you broke-up. he doesn’t know how, he’s never been good at this kind of thing. he keeps his thoughts to himself and he never lets his emotions linger on his face. perhaps if he had learned to be kinder, understood what it might have been like to be you, he might still be with you now.

he thinks about his mother once more as he continues to drive, eyes dragging over to a clay cat figurine left on his dashboard. it’s stuck in place and it was a gift from you after your second date. he remembers your sweet laugh when you found out he still kept it after all these years; you’re sentimental, just like his mother. the two of you would have gotten along, sae realises, with a pang in his chest.

it’s far too late to reminisce about what could have been and what has yet to be. you’ve slipped out of his grasp because he was never holding on tight enough to begin with. not that you’re something to be kept, but you are someone to be held, to be cherished, to be loved. 

the ramen shop is full of bright laughter. dim yellow lighting spills over wooden tables and chairs, he can pick out the sound of chopsticks tapping against the bottom of their respective bowls, glasses clinking together as people toast. it's the kind of place that would lead his entire PR team to lecture him about his public appearances because it’s chock full of patrons—it only takes one person to recognize him before things go haywire. sae doesn't care, he never did, he just needed somewhere new. 

somewhere that isn't the hole-in-the-wall izakaya he likes, sandwiched between a pharmacy and a bike shop. it reminds him of you and how your tolerance is so low, you'd become giggly after about twenty minutes of sipping on your beer. 

you never liked beer, you liked the drinks that tasted more like juice than anything. it was something sae used to pick on you for: nearly twenty-two and yet your palate hasn’t matured past a high-schooler’s. 

he still has a picture of you both from a night out left in his camera roll, too attached to delete it. you're holding the phone too high up, the picture only really shows the top of his head but he doesn't matter that much anyway. it's you that he always looks at. 

you've craned your head up to stare at the camera, eyes shaped into half-moons as your cheeks bunch up from your grin. his hand is resting on your lower back—a precaution in case you end up falling. 

you were happy in that picture, so full of love it was practically spilling from you. he can tell because you were leaning into him, your hand was in his. and he was happy too. he always was whenever you were, sae is simple like that. 

he finds a table in the back and takes a seat, tracing his index finger over the rings in the wooden table. makes his order with his head hung low. he hopes no one recognizes him—the kid at the hardware store was more than enough for today. his sweater is a bit too warm for the shop and he’s starting to sweat but it might just be because he’s not used to being out like this. when was the last time he was surrounded by so many people?

probably the party he rushed out of two weeks ago. he doesn’t feel contrite when he thinks about who he left behind. but he does when your face comes into view just behind his eyes, and it shouldn’t matter because he’s not yours anymore. he’s just pretending to be, like a stupid little kid. 

there’s a chime that comes from the door as someone walks in. he hears remnants of laughter from a joke shared just moments before and decides that it must be a group of people. sae doesn’t look up from the table, eyes straying over to the empty seat across from him. the chill of loneliness settles in his bones quickly and without mercy, yet he still feels hot under his clothes. 

embarrassment. 

here he is, itoshi sae, seated at a table meant for two, utterly miserable. 

his food arrives after some time, a glass of beer along with it. the server smiles at him (smiles at the back of his head because sae refuses to look up) and walks away. sae simply eyes his bowl of ramen with a frown. he thought he might enjoy the chatter, which is why he’s here, but he’s regretting his decision more and more with every second that passes. 

there’s a group of people seated behind him. he catches glimpses of their office attire, blazers and pressed trousers. simple jewellery that catches the light but isn’t too distracting. he figures they’re celebrating, or simply spending a night out after a hard day at work. sae picks at his ramen and thinks about how he’s wasted his day. sae takes a sip of his beer and wonders if you’re out celebrating like these people are. 

you must be happier now, you have to be. you must be with someone who gives you the time of day, holds you in their arms and tells you they love you every night. all things sae took too long to learn how to do because the depths of your love had him terrified. 

you used to look at him like it would pain you to look anywhere else, like he was worthy of being up amongst the stars that dot the sky. he never felt like he deserved your adoration, he thought he had a long way to go before he earned it. 

chairs scrape behind him, someone stands up and makes a toast to the future. in his head, sae toasts with them, wearing a sardonic smile. he hears someone laugh and it sounds so inexplicably like you that, for a moment, he wonders if fate has led him to you like he'd been praying for it to. 

it takes everything in him to not whip around and stare. he digs his fingers into his knee, bunching up the fabric of his jeans. 

he must be going crazy, he decides instead. 

sae doesn’t finish his food, or his beer. he leaves with his hands shoved in his pockets, hands curled into fists as the light sound of your laughter rings in his head. it couldn’t have been you—he hasn’t seen you in months. why would you turn up now out of all times? out of tokyo? it’s unlike you. 

“sae?” someone calls out to him. not someone, it’s you. he recognizes your voice with ease, he could pick you apart from a sea of people in a half-second. your voice is the one he dreams of, the one he years to hear once more. 

sae turns around and it’s you standing in front of him, in office attire like the group that was sitting behind him. you have a large coat on you, the collar popped and hiding some of your chin. the sleeves are far too long for the length of your arms so they bunch up around your elbows as you cross your arms over your chest. 

he must not know you as well as he thought he did, if you’re here instead of being in the city. 

you’re wearing a soft sort of smile, the kind that one might show strangers who pass by them on the street. it’s nothing like the smiles you used to share with him, and only him. you’re looking at him the same way you look at everyone else. 

he watches you wilt and realises that his silence might come across as rejection. he fixes it with an awkward wave, like he’s only just learning to use his hand in tandem with his arm. it makes you huff in amusement and sae latches onto the sound like it’s sacred. 

“what’re you doing…here?” you gesture towards the shop, waving an arm at the door. the sleeve of your coat slides down and hides your hand. 

sae doesn’t have an answer for you, so he just shakes his head. he says the first thing that comes to mind instead. “you look good.” 

you tense, then, eyes flickering to the floor. “um- thank you. you do too.” your voice is so quiet, it’s obvious you’re uncomfortable. sae reminds himself that this is natural—you both broke-up on bad terms. even if you’re here now to say a few words to him, there’s a wedge that has been shoved between you both that keeps you apart. 

and it’s his own doing. 

he watches as you turn back and he knows you’re contemplating ending this conversation. there’s a panicked stutter in his heart as he considers what to do to keep you here a moment longer, just enough so he could memorise your face once more. 

“would you like to take a walk? with me?” he asks rather abruptly. it catches you off guard and you blink a few times in disbelief. sae prays silently like he has never done before.

you take one last lingering look into the ramen shop and sigh. “alright, let’s walk. it’s too loud in there for me anyway.”

“i thought you liked the noise,” he hums, turning on his heel as you fall into place beside him. your arm brushes against his own and heartbeat quickens. you shake your head with a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. 

“only sometimes. wasn’t feeling it today.”

it’s gets quiet between you rather quickly, nothing to talk about on his side. he figures you don’t want to share what you’ve been up to. irritation builds in the cavity of his chest quickly, but he keeps it down and doesn’t let it show. what right did he have to know?

the silence is grating and he needs to fill it. “your coat is alarmingly big,” he mutters, nodding at the way it’s slipping off your shoulders. you don’t seem to have been expecting this from him, seeing as he manages to draw a laugh out of you. pride swells within him, replacing his precious irritation.

“yeah, well, it’s not mine. haruto lent it to me because he noticed i was cold.”

haruto. who is haruto? 

the irritation is back once more, like flames licking at his lungs and heart. his head feels hot and his cheeks are warm and he’s beyond irritated now. there’s a tight unpleasant feeling that wraps itself around him, squeezing until his breathing turns shallow. sae is jealous. 

and he has no right to be, but he is anyway. 

the night is cool but his hands feel clammy and he’s sweating through his jumper, the hair at his nape sticking to his skin. 

“are you dating him?” he snaps before he can stop himself, staring at you with narrow eyes and a sweltering gaze. you pick up on his spiteful tone and you furrow your brows, picking at your bottom lip with your teeth before you face him.

the frigid stare you give him in response is one that chills him straight to the bone. “what’s it to you? we’re not together, remember?”

he wonders if you know that you’re driving the knife further into the wound, twisting it until it hurts him to even look at you because your eyes only remind him of all the times he messed up with you.

sae doesn’t apologise, he just looks down. from beside him, you scoff and stop walking.

“i see you haven’t changed,” you mutter, picking at your nails. you’ve painted them red and you’re chipping away at the polish. 

you don’t give him a chance to say anything before you’re speaking again, looking up at him with that same cold stare. only this time, he thinks he can see something akin to pity in your gaze. “a simple ‘sorry’ would have sufficed.” 

he gets the impression that you’re referring to a lot more than his little outburst just now. sae can’t stop the waves of guilt from washing over him even if he tried you. he had done a good job ignoring it to the best of his abilities in the two months since you both broke-up, but seeing you in front of you is dredging up weeks of repressed hurt and remorse. he doesn’t know what to do with it all.

“my apology won’t change anything,” he replies, trying to keep his voice even. sae never cries but his voice does crack from time to time. “not now.”

you let out a bitter laugh, the sound makes sae flinch. “and here you are giving up without even trying.”

never knowing how to apologise for all the times he’s hurt you, deciding that he would rather not try at all instead of trying and failing—these were his flaws. you put up with it for the better part of four years before you decided you couldn’t keep things together all by yourself. 

sae had you stretched thin, resolve worn down to just a few strings. at that point in your relationship, one fight was all it took to make the cracks split and break. 

“you stopped trying, and i refuse to do this alone, sae.”

he thinks about you here now, the way that you’re still standing before him instead of turning away the minute he had overstepped. the minute he had acted like he was privileged to anything going on in your life, like he was still allowed to be yours. 

he thinks about the paint in his trunk and the cabbage in the plastic bag in the passenger seat. he thinks about the messages he sent to you, all unread because you blocked him two months ago. 

“i’m- i’m sorry.” the words feel foreign as they settle into the space between you, just a few steps because sae can’t stray too far from you. 

you stay silent and he continues. “i’m sorry i never tried as hard as you did. i’m sorry i never acknowledged all my mistakes until it was too late.” sae looks up at you and how the moonlight highlights all the soft curves of your face—you look breathtaking. 

“i’m sorry that i never loved you the way you deserved.”

you only nod, taking a shaky breath with glossy eyes and it only makes sae nervous. but you don’t cry so he hopes he didn’t hurt you for the nth time in your time together. when you take a few steps forward, sae grows ridgid, his posture utterly perfect. you place a hesitant hand on his cheek and he leans into the touch more than he would have liked, but he suspends his inhibitions for now. 

he’s too delighted to have you back, even for just a few fleeting moments. 

your hand is as soft as it always is, your touch as familiar as it once was. 

“let’s try again, sae,” you whisper and his name sounds sweeter than normal when you say it now. “i think we can do it right this time.”

sae doesn’t think he deserves your softness, how gentle you are with him despite the way he’s been so cruel to you over the years. but here you are giving him the chance to retrace his steps and fix the mistakes he’s made in the past. and he’s more than willing, in fact, it’s all he’s wanted, realises. 

his thumb strokes the apple of your cheek. “i want to try again.”

when you smile, it reminds him of the picture stored away in his phone. your eyes shaped into half-moons, cheeks bunching up. he catches a glint of something gold sitting against your collarbone and doesn’t resist the smile that tugs at his mouth upon figuring out that it’s the locket.

heart-shaped; he wonders if you still have a picture of him inside. 

the two of you walk back to the ramen shop. you tell him about haruto, you’re kind co-worker, and about the cat you’ve adopted a week ago. sae tells you that he’s going to paint the walls of his bedroom pastel blue. 

“call me when you do,” you say, standing in front of his car. “i’ll help you.”

sae merely nods in response, you’re going to unblock him now. he’s only mildly embarrassed about the slew of messages you’ll receive from him. 

he’s never deserved you. but itoshi sae is selfish and this time, he’s determined to do things right.

the way i dont even remember anything i wrote ..... LMFAO anyway THIS TITLE GUYS ITS FROM COLLISION BY SKZ OKAY PLS

redraw anime Aizawa panels