Chapter Three: Lock Your Doors

Chapter three: Lock your doors

Word count: 3.8k

Category: hard angst, smut

Chapter warnings: drugs, mentions of medicine, light smut, guns 

Summary: There are three hot guys who want to be with you, however, there are a few problems along the way. One of them is a plug, another one wants to keep you all to himself and the third one - a med student who deals drugs on the side. Your main problem, though? You have a terminal illness that has a very low life expectancy. Spiraling down a dangerous path seems like a fun way to spend your last years.

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Maybe your mind-set of "you only live once" finally did you some favours, because now you have a date set with one of the hottest guys ever.

Friday comes fast and after swallowing down a bunch of medicine you’re sitting in an expensive car of none other than Kuroo Tetsuro.

The dark of the night swallows the blurry autumn sun and speckles the sky with stars. Your nerves are fried, fingers twitching and leg bouncing up and down, up and down.

"You’re nervous," Kuroo hums, but it’s not a question, merely an observation, "Your leg keeps bouncing up and down." The steering wheel is left in one of his huge hands, while the other one finds its way to your knee, gently squeezing, "Do I make you nervous?"

His hand is pleasantly warm. It reminds you of the most delightful things – early summer mornings, apple pie with ice cream and bear hugs.

And how could you not be nervous? Kuroo Tetsuro - the guy you had this dumb crush on for literal months - all 6’4 of his is sitting next to you, with that charming smile on his handsome face, navigating through the streets of busy, light-polluted Tokyo as if it’s as easy as breathing.

"I’m sitting in a car with a guy who’s basically a stranger and is refusing to tell me where we’re going. But yes, your handsome face is the problem."

The salon of his expensive car is filled with tension and the scent of sandalwood.

Kuroo lets out a laugh, "You’re trying to be snarky and shit but you still called me handsome, so thank you."

Your face burns as you scramble to make a witty come-back. Kuroo makes you way more nervous than you would like to be. It’s as if every time you see him your mind goes blurry.

"Well, you are," you finally settle on a response, "But aren’t there enough girls who tell you that?"

Kuroo gives you a look, turning back to the busy road to drive around slower drivers.

"Is that your way of asking me about girls?"

Your eyes fall to your shoes, as if they’re the most engrossing thing ever and your hands begin to mindlessly toy with your skirt.

"You sure you didn’t wanna study psychology or something?" you groan, still feeling a bit embarrassed that your intentions, expressed in a form of what you thought was the most flawless way of acquiring the answers you needed, being uncovered that easy.

He reminds you of a certain charming brunette from your past - the reason for most of your happy memories. They’re both too good at reading people.

Kuroo’s laughter is surprisingly higher in pitch than his voice, but it’s not unpleasant to listen to. You might even call it cute in a way.

"Babe, you’re just too easy to read, no need for me to study psychology," he finally says, slipping in the nickname without any further thought, a sly smirk playing at his lips when he notices the way you react to his words. His hand is still resting on your knee and he playfully squeezes it, making you almost jump up in your seat.

"You do know that I want to be here as much as you do, right? It’s not like you’re the only one nervous."

The sincerity of his words is hidden by a wide smile, but it’s reassuring. It’s hard to believe that a guy like Kuroo would go out with you and for you to refuse the urge to pinch your arm for the n-th time tonight.

"I know that, but somehow my brain," you wildly gesture to your head, raising your eyebrows, "Doesn’t connect the… dots, right?"

"What dots?" he swiftly turns into an intersection and turns right, slightly speeding up when the green light begins to blink.

"You wanting to go out with me..." you mutter, slightly awkwardly. For some reason, when you’re talking to him you’re like an open book. He has this aura around him that just makes you want to look into his golden-brown eyes and trust him.

Kuroo frowns, the corners of his lips going slightly downwards, "Why would you even say that? Who wouldn’t want to go out with you?"

Your thoughts are filled to capacity with Issei Matsukawa. That’s who wouldn’t want to go out with you. He’s like your own personal moon – only showing up when you need him the most, fucking you until you forget everything, but never letting anyone know who you two are; only a slight smirk when his friends ask if you two had fucked and a casual nod when they ask if you’re good in bed. That’s what you’ve been reduced to.

"Hey, doll, I think you’re dozing off on me, hm?"

You come back to reality; to the city lights that are now few and far in between, to how Kuroo’s hand spreads warmth through your body and to the smell of sandalwood.

"Yeah, just got lost in thought, sorry,"

"No worries," he nods, expression radiating relief and the usual self-assured smirk returning once again coming back to the black-haired man’s face, "Y/N, do you want to play 10 questions?"

You’re watching the lights of the bustling city fade away, melting away your tension. You feel safe with Kuroo, however dumb and naive it may sound. The fact that he didn’t push you to answer his question just a moment before only proves you right.

"Isn’t that for teenagers?" you lift up your eyes, finding Kuroo already looking at you and instantly ending the eye-contact, suddenly finding your shoes outstandingly interesting.

"It is… But I need an excuse to ask all the questions I want without seeming intrusive," 

"Okay, Mr. Thoughtful, ask away then," Kuroo chuckles at your attempts to tease him, but he knows. He knows that he’s got you wrapped around his finger. Not like he’s gonna use that. Not for now, at least.

"Okay. How many boyfriends have you had?" It seems like he had the question ready a while ago and you’re puzzled. He says most things so casually that you can only be envious of his confidence.

You’re lost in thought for a while. Well, Issei checked all the boxes a boyfriend should’ve; yet he didn’t want to be anything more, so that left you with-

"Just one, back in high school."

"What high school did you go to?" Kuroo shoots the question instantly, one finger bouncing up and down alongside the radio music, sending tingles through your body.

"Isn’t it my turn to ask?"

"Ah. Yes, I suppose." He gives you a half-assed apologetic smirk and suddenly turns right, his car tires squeaking in protest.

"How many girlfriends have you had?" you ask the same question, just reversed, but Kuroo doesn’t question it. He doesn’t even have to think before answering.

"Not gonna ask how many boyfriends I’ve had? Okay, ah, about five girlfriends."

"About-" you’re ready to find out more, curiosity getting the best of you but Kuroo squeezes your knee, like a subtle warning.

"Ah ah, my turn."

"What high school did you go to?" he asks, once again surprising you in how quick he is at making them.

"Aoba Johsai."

"Was this boy Iwaizumi Hajime?" he raises an eyebrow and seems quite satisfied with himself – like he’s got it all figured out.

"What? No! And it’s not even your turn to ask!" you couldn’t ever imagine yourself with Iwa. He was a good friend and a very handsome man, but way too serious for your taste.

"This game is stupid," Kuroo pauses for a moment. You know he’s got his next question already figured out, but he doesn’t ask straight away, "why not Iwaizumi?"

"Not my type, per say."

"Seems like your type. We have a similar face, no?"

You think for a moment. Not even a bit. Iwa’s eyes were slanted whereas Kuroo’s were lazily hooded, Iwa always carried a scowl on his face, while the man sitting beside you, favoured a confident smirk. The only similar thing about them was their height, and even then – Kuroo was more lean and with a straighter posture, "You do not," you finally come to the conclusion and Kuroo’s smiling. God, how he loves watching the wheels in your head turn, thoughts spinning and mouth opening and closing as you’re unable to make a believable argument.

"Strong eyebrows and jawline, a scowl. Don’t wanna rethink your answer?" Once again, he’s fast, pointing at his features with slender fingers, instead of looking at the empty road.

The scenery has changed and now you’re driving through empty fields, huge houses with giant fences popping up here and there.

"No, Iwa looks just like Mattsun but in italics," Kuroo searches his mind till he finds the face of Matsukawa Issei, who you so sweetly called "Mattsun" and then laughs. Holy shit, you’re right. Although, that’s got him thinking more. You two must be pretty close, if you’re calling the man by a nickname. Perhaps a former classmate? He was gonna have to look into it more, but for now, he’s got more important answers to provoke out of you, "Ok, right. Right. But who was it then?"

"Tooru."

"Oikawa Tooru?!" Kuroo almost slams on the brakes, shock apparent on his face. The resident pretty boy captain is a well-known person to him – always a beautiful fangirl hanging off his arm and a saccharine smile adorning his lips. He doesn’t seem like your type at all. Too sophisticated and fake. 

"You seem surprised."

“I am.” Kuroo nods, collecting his composure, putting his usual smirk back on, “Are pretty boys your type?”

“Didn’t you tell me my type was Iwaizumi and you, a moment ago?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo hums, nonchalantly, “That was before I knew Oikawa fucking Tooru was your ex,” he shakes his head, as if it’s hard to connect dots in his head, “Was he good in bed?”

You almost choke on your saliva and his hand pats your knee calmly. Oh, how he enjoys making you embarrassed.

“Interested in sleeping with Tooru?” you retort, but it’s way too late to have any real bite. 

Kuroo doesn’t acknowledge it, only noting that you still call Oikawa by his first name.

“Nah… Nah, just wanna know what I’m competing with.” 

Your head spins from the idea of what he’s implying, mind travelling to what his touches and kisses would feel like on your heated skin. 

But before you spiral out, Kuroo moves his hand from your knee and does a sharp turn, suddenly stopping and turning off the car, stretching in his car seat. You instantly miss the comforting warmth of his hand.

“We’re here.” 

Your eyes widen, trying to get used to the dark. Little by little, details come into your vision – you’re parked near a huge field of lavenders, surrounded by giant oak trees. It looks like a scene straight from a Studio Ghibli movie. 

“Are you going to murder me and hide my body in a lavender field?” 

Kuroo steps out of his car, instantly coming to open yours, it’s like an instinct for him, “Yeah. Gonna give you to a cult. ‘Children of the Corn’ and shit.” 

You chuckle as you step out of the car, following him without any question. Kuroo feels safe – like getting to sleep in your bed after a party, a ring that fits perfectly around your finger and holding hands when it’s cold. 

He leads you through a path in the field, the smell of lavender filling your senses. Kuroo reaches out for you and you grab his hand without thinking, which brings a smile to his face.

“When I was younger, uh, in my first year of high school, my dad died and it was just me and my grandparents left. They couldn’t afford a house in the city, dad left a lot of debt, so we moved away to the outskirts of Tokyo. When I felt like it was just me against the world… I used to come here.” 

The story Kuroo tells flows freely into the night air as he leads you through the small paths, to the biggest oak tree in the field. You don’t say you’re sorry for his loss. Traumas like that never heal and adding a band-aid to a gaping wound only adds insult to the injury. 

“So this is your safe place. I get it.” you give his hand a gentle squeeze and look up at him. The confident smirk is exchanged for a more gentler, genuine one, “I appreciate you taking me here.” 

Kuroo stops, if only for a moment, gazing down at you, “I know it’s corny and shit, since it’s our first date, but ah, I’ve treated girls shitty in the past. Don’t want to treat you like that, I want this to work. Even if it’s only a few dates.” 

“O-oh.” 

Kuroo laughs and spins you by your shoulders. You’re staring at a wooden ladder, attached to a blue treehouse. The paint is chipping away.

“I love the fact that I make you so nervous,” the words are spoken right into your ear, as he gives it a little peck and then gently pushes you towards the ladder.

“Are you letting me go first cause you want to stare at my butt?” you turn to him with judgemental eyes before you take the first step. 

“That, and the serial killers up there. Wouldn’t want them to kill me first!” 

You roll your eyes as you start climbing up and up, until you reach the opening to the treehouse, crawling in. 

It’s not like you imagined at all – the walls are painted, there’s a rug and a big mattress with pillows and thick blankets,

“Don’t tell me you used to sleep here, too.” 

“No, it was an old mattress my grandparents wanted to throw out. Figured it would make the place more cozy,” Kuroo pauses for a second and then sits down, encouraging you to do so too. He instantly pulls you close, “Easier than having to wait until my grandparents went somewhere, too.” 

You stare up at Kuroo, shaking your head, “You said you didn’t sleep here!” Kuroo chuckles and kisses your forehead, sending warmth all over your body. 

“Yeah, that’s right. I never slept here, just used to fuck girls here.” 

He’s so crude and straight-forward, but you can’t help but laugh.

“So we’re probably sitting on old cum stains?”

“Nah, probably not,” Kuroo grabs your waist and lays you down. He’s on top now and you turn your head to the side. 

“Look at me, y/n,” Kuroo gently grabs your chin and turns your face to look at him, you could explore his amber eyes for hours upon hours, trying to find out all the secrets within, “Can I kiss you?” 

You nod, giving him the permission, which he immediately uses. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours and his kiss bleeds desperation. One of his hands is still on your face, while the other finds its place in your hair. 

You try to lift yourself up, to get even closer to him, but he pushes you down by your hip, forbidding you from doing so. 

“Don’t move, baby,” he stops you with another kiss, this time biting your upper lip and dragging until it snaps back. He laughs and then kisses you again, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

You pull back and kiss him all over the face – he has little tiny freckles all over his nose. It has the most adorable little bump, encouraging you to kiss his nose once more. 

“You just gonna kiss me all over my face?” Kuroo raises one of his eyebrows and you reward him with another one. Then you reach for his jawline, then neck, making his breath hitch. 

“I want to undress you,” Kuroo says and you nip at his neck, giggling. 

“Then do so, don’t fucking ask me for permission,” you mumble into his skin and inhale more of the enticing sandalwood scent. Your mind is spinning. You’re about to fuck a man you’ve crushed on for months. Will it be different from having sex with Issei and all those random hookups? Is it too soon? Will you seem too easy?-

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Kuroo chuckles and then he’s undressing you – your skirt and shirt are flying off, shoes too and you’re left before him only in your bra in your panties, “Aw, you put on a matching set for me. How sweet of you. You’re so sweet… I almost feel bad for what I’m going to do with you.” 

Your breath hitches. Issei was never gentle, he took and took and took. You had a feeling Kuroo would be different. He admires the set for a short moment, before tearing it off. You yelp, but Kuroo instantly silences it with a hungry kiss. He takes but it’s so different. 

“You’ve got nice tits,” he smiles and then he’s kissing all over them, making your words stuck in your throat when he bites. Hard, “Am I being a red flag if I want to give you hickeys and bite marks,” he kisses lower and lower, “all over your body?” 

“Might-“ your voice gets a pitch higher when Kuroo finally reaches your pussy, giving it a gentle kiss and separating the folds. There’s an unreadable emotion swimming in his eyes, “Might not have enough turtlenecks to hide them all.” 

“Oh, baby,” Kuroo laughs and gives an experimental lick to your clit, making your back arch, “I plan on letting everyone see.” 

And then he’s eating you out like it’s his last meal. One of his hands finds your hip again, squeezing hard and preventing you from lifting yourself up, “You just can’t stay still, yeah?” His words cause vibrations, making you let out a loud whine. 

“You sound pretty. Real pretty,” with that, you finally let out a loud, angelic moan. And that’s enough to get Kuroo going. Oh, how he craves to hear more and more and more.

Two of his slender fingers slide inside you and you keen at the stretch. It’s been a while since you’ve last had sex so every calculated touch of nimble fingers feels euphoric against your skin, pleasure coursing through the slight pain. 

“More,” you ask. No, you beg. You look at Kuroo like he’s your god, ever so loving and forgiving to grant you one wish. One wish for not being sinful. One wish because he gets to be the one to make you sin. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby,” Kuroo grunts and then, suddenly, adds another finger. You yelp, trying to grab at his wrist, but his hand stops yours, “Be a good girl. Don’tcha wanna be a good girl for me, mm?” 

“Want to! Wanna be a good girl for you, daddy!” 

Kuroo tilts his head back, groaning, “You don’t know what you’re starting, fuck-. You just squeezed my fingers so fucking hard,” a smirk plays on his stupidly handsome face, “Want me to get rough? Baby wants me to get rough with her soft, perfect body?” 

You nod, and with that, Kuroo gets all the confirmation he’s ever needed from you. His fingers find the spot inside you, the one many guys would’ve struggled to find and with a few curls of his long fingers, you’re coming undone, juices spreading all over Kuroo’s fingers. 

He’s smiling in blissful delight, sticking the fingers into your mouth as you eagerly lick them clean, tasting yourself. Kuroo pats your heated cheek in approval and then quickly removes his sweater and shirt, revealing a silver chain that has a small black cat charm hanging on it. You chuckle and Kuroo tilts his head, until he catches where your stare landed. 

“Don’t make fun of me, princess, yeah? You’re about to learn what happens to good, perfect girls like you,” he smiles and it makes you burn. You want him to touch you, kiss you, ruin you until the only things you remember in this world are his name and face. 

However, as soon as his soft, warm lips land on your neck, there’s a noise outside. A car engine coming closer and closer with each passing moment. 

Kuroo stands up instantly, pulling you up as you stumble to get onto your unsteady feet. The floor of the treehouse is cold, and so are you. 

“Get your shoes on, quickly”, his voice is laced with concern and hints of confusion so you don’t hesitate - doing as you’re told as quickly as possible. He dresses you in his sweater - the material soft and comfortable against your skin, pulls his own shirt on and gathers other clothing left. You see it in his eyes - no time to put on your clothes, you have to go.

He climbs off the ladder and almost pulls you off of it, when he deems your speed unsatisfying. 

“No one is supposed to know this place, except a few people, fuck!” Kuroo pulls you with him and you only ease his worries by not stumbling, which requires huge effort, actually, “I am almost sure of who that is though, what bad timing… Fuck, I really just wanted to take you on a date where no one could find us,” he’s seething, grabbing your hand in a grip that tightens with each passing moment. 

You don’t dare question Kuroo. Everything - from his words to his seething need to get you somewhere safe - screams danger. 

When you’re about a few meters from his car, Kuroo pulls you closer and takes a long inhale.

“Please, sit in the car, don’t make a noise and don’t open the door for anyone besides me,” the words take a few short moments to register in your scared mind, which makes Kuroo grab you tighter, “Say you understand, y/n.” 

“I-I understand,” the words leave your mouth as another car pulls into the side of the beautiful fields, that gave you such calmness and serenity just a while ago. No more of that today. The calmness and coldness of Kuroo’s voice make shivers run down your spine. 

There’s a flash of recognition in Kuroo’s eyes as he observes the car that’s pulled over. His brows furrow and he ushers you quickly towards his own car, hand tightly wrapped around yours. 

“I’ll be back as quickly as possible, okay?” with that, you’re sitting in the passenger seat, your knees pulled to your chest, mind spinning. You watch his tall silhouette disappear into the darkness and then close your eyes. You would appreciate some pain medicine right now. If only you had some on you. Hopefully, Kuroo is back soon and you’ll get away with an excuse of a headache. 

You’re still only in your shoes and Kuroo’s sweater when someone taps on the car window. Your skin raises in goosebumps, heart about to jump out of your chest. Slowly, you look up and are met with a barrel of a gun and an icy stare looking straight into your soul. Only one thought runs through your head – Kuroo hasn’t locked his car.

Sorry for the long wait, been super busy!

Taglist: @heizenka​ @icelyn20​ @strawbberyys @creepykawass​

bokuto is the type to ask u how much you weigh only because he wants to put that weight onto a barbell and send u a video of him hip thrusting it at the gym

prompt: post-apocalypse ghost/reader fic where ghost and the rest of his team come across the feral, blood-soaked reader who stabs first and asks questions later. (on ao3 here)

-

The world ends on a Monday.

Abysmal timing; they’re on leave by chance, the whole lot of them. Soap and Gaz are playing cards in the barracks when they get the call. Price is still in his office when a phone in the corner of the room that never rings suddenly does (he stares at it for a time before picking it up). Ghost is someplace, no one knows for sure; what they do know is that when he does finally answer their calls, he’s out of breath and there’s a thread of panic in his voice that makes the blood in Soap’s veins run cold. 

He’s never heard him sound like that. He never will again.

The virus rages across the country, hopping borders like they melt away into the ether. Country after country toppelling to this unnamed virus that demolishes society so completely that there was never a chance for the military to contain it. That chance evaporates before even the faintest spark of hope is lit. 

Soap is used to killing, but what he never gets used to is the sight of those things that take human shape. Calling them zombies is easy at first, but even that name comes with a sense of distance; it evokes things seen in films and tv shows, not the real flesh-and-blood of it all, not sitting in a caravan speeding down the motorway with bodies torn apart and scattered across the road. He learns to bite his teeth and hold his bile down at the sight of one of those creatures hunched over the masticated remains of a person. 

Then suddenly it’s seven months later. The core unit of them make their way across the continent, taking back roads where they’re less likely to encounter the hoards of infected. They’ve had too many close calls for them to take chances anymore—even armed to the gills and strapped in body armor (the remnants of the military efforts that collapsed within days), Gaz’s shoulder pad has crumpled beneath too sharp teeth and Roach has had his legs swept out from under him, his throat nearly exposed, nearly torn open.

Ghost’s hands are still wet with gore from taking that infected apart. If any of them make it, it will likely be him.

A part of Soap worries about Ghost. Even he feels the tender edges of his own humanity bristle at the day-in and day-out struggle that is now a luxury rather than a hardship. Just being able to survive is a miracle. Ghost just goes dark. From the little Soap knows of Ghost (which is still more than most; he’s confident enough to say that of their group, he’s the one that Ghost shows himself to the most), he knows that Ghost has already endured enough suffering for an army. Never mind a single man. 

There’s a flatness behind his eyes these days and it scares Soap, just a bit. He no longer looks like a person behind a mask but rather the sun-baked skull itself. 

His worry only fades when they come across the girl.

She’s a feral little thing, half-starved and out of her mind. They see her slip in and out of abandoned houses when they make their way through a small village in the French countryside (or what Soap thinks is France), hair matted with sweat and blood. 

It’s Ghost that pauses, Ghost that makes them stop and detours long enough to creep up on her, holding a big hand to her mouth when she howls and tries to tear his whole arm off. It takes over an hour to calm her down long enough to reassure her that they mean her no harm. She tries to take off no less than six times.

Soap has never seen Ghost look smitten, but there’s no other word for it. 

When Price tentatively suggests leaving the girl behind—not a terrible suggestion after she tries to stab Ghost—the look Ghost levels him with brooks no further arguments. They’re keeping the girl. 

She’s his problem, as far as Soap and the rest of them are concerned. No name, unless it’s Soap yelling “Girl” or “Hey, you!” when she does something stupid like actively seeking out infected to kill. Ghost chuckles all deep baritone when he sees her hack away at an infected man’s neck. It’s enough to make a man hurl. Love in a time of zombies. 

He hears them murmuring to each other sometimes, late at night when the team is holed up in a house or a barn they’ve commandeered. Doors always reinforced, someone standing guard on the roof. The low rasp of Ghost’s voice, almost susurrous, almost intimate. Her voice like a chittering wolf. 

Hovering between sleep and wakefulness, Soap doesn’t look away from the wall in front of him. He knows if he does, if he turns over from where he’s supposed to be sleeping, he’ll see Ghost hovering over the girl roughly half his size, her face blocked only by the way his arms frame either side of her head. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach the sight of his friend’s hips bucking into the girl.

He hears him mutter something like, “You needed to be found. I needed to find you.” and then it’s enough. He lets his brain shut off. 

If it keeps Ghost sane and with them, so be it. 

Thinking about how big Jason is. 6’4 and just made of muscle. Thick thighs and a big chest with strong arms. Large hands that love to grip your thighs, lifting and tossing you with ease. And he knows what he does to you - little smirks and teasing touches give him away. And he is a tease, giving you only a little taste of him before pulling away, cooing at you in that mocking voice, asking if you’re gonna be a good girl and play nice.

Iwaizumi x f!reader; cheater!Oikawa x f!reader

Word count: 6,4k

Category: Angst, Smut

Warnings: Cheating, cursing, sex, some choking, slapping and mentions of violence (reader basically asks to be hurt), daddy kink (not ddlg), scummy Oikawa being an asshole, kind of toxic Iwaizumi, uh, that’s about it? Dm me if I missed anything.

Summary: Having your heart broken by Oikawa Tooru is unexpectedly hard, but it’s even harder to let yourself fall for someone new.

Songs that inspired this: “Sparks” by Coldplay, “Song for a guilty sadist” by Crywank and “Skinny love” by Bon Iver 

Huge thanks to @velvet-kissesss for editing this and always being the first to read my stories! <3

Oikawa Tooru is like the sun. His smile is as bright as a summer day, his gaze as cold as ice, but he‘s still your sun. Or he used to be. Clouds of doubt that came in the form of suspicious text messages and excuses clouded his brightness and warmth that never really cleared away. 

He‘s busy busy busy. You‘re always wasting his time, you‘re always annoying him with your silly messages, asking- no, begging for his time; which you know you won‘t get. Your eyes and heart are completely filled with Tooru, your sun.

Even his friends notice the odd behaviour of their former captain yet they mask their concerns for your wellbeing with jokes and laughs once you stop showing up to their weekly dinners. 

The storm started when you overheard the conversation you weren‘t supposed to hear. It‘s a rare occasion to be home at the same time as Tooru, even in your shared apartment, your boyfriend so kindly paid for (You offered to pay rent, but even if he would‘ve accepted your offer, a broke college student would never be able to afford it). His voice sounded slightly annoyed, the notes barely there, but from the time you spent together you could clearly tell he was having an argument. 

“I’m not fooling around. I don’t know what to do,” 

You couldn’t tell what the argument was about, but you pressed yourself against the living room wall that divided the two rooms. Eavesdropping wasn’t good, but you were worried for Tooru. He was never home, never shared his worries and now he was getting into arguments. Your anxiety was rising. What if something was going on? 

“I’m not leading her on, you don’t know what you’re talking about! The only girl you’ve ever dated left you before college started. Adult relationships are so much harder,” 

There was only silence for a moment that seemed to stretch out into infinity. 

“I’m thinking about ending things. I think… I’m almost sure I’m falling out of love with her,”

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eighteen PATHETIC MEN in your AREA with the WETTEST SADDEST EYES youve ever seen want to TALK ABOUT THE WORST MUSIC YOUVE EVER HEARD with YOU!