"they Don't Love Me Like You Do!"

"they don't love me like you do!"

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

summary: despite the countless valentines day offers he receives, satoru will only ever accept one confession. but you're confessing... to his best friend?

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, high school! au

"please accept these chocolates, gojo!" says the girl in front of him. satoru casually pulls down his glasses enough to see the red, heart-shaped cardboard box.

"oh, uh... thank you." he awkwardly says. this girl was two year below him, judging by the colours of her indoor shoes. he didn't even know her name. "this is... a surprise."

"i've liked you ever since orientation day. i hope you like these." she says with a nervous grin. she's stiff as he takes them out of her hands, standing up straight to stare at the tall man. "thank you for always being so funny and helping everyone you can."

"ah, you're welcome." he says, tucking the chocolates and the letter taped to it under his arm. luckily, the lunch bell had rung and everyone should've been off to enjoy their break. "well, i'll... see you around."

"b—bye, gojo!" she calls, waving at him as he walks the other way. he gives a kind smile before he turns the corner, dropping it immediately.

on the way to class, multiple other students watched him as he carelessly skimmed through the letter before stuffing it in his book bag, ready to throw it (and the others) away once home. valentines day was this week and it was two days before it today. yet satoru had received tons of confession letters and date proposals, none of which he had the intention of accepting.

plopping down in his chair, he groans, hanging his head, "ugh! i hate being so loveable..."

suguru rolls his eyes, outting his book down. "here we go again." he grunts, shaking his head.

"seriously! why can't i be left alone around valentines day?" he questions out lout, pulling his lunch box from his bag.

shoko bites into her sandwich as she listens to him. as she swallows, she retorts, "maybe it's because you flirt with every living being on earth." satoru sends him a pointed look. "so how many letters today?"

"seven." satoru responds, knocking his bag.

"and?"

"none of them were from y/n." he sighs out, picking up his chopsticks.

"wait, y/n?" suguru pipes up, putting his juicebox down, "as in y/n from class d?"

the blue-eyed boy raises a brow, halting his movements. "uh, yeah? l/n y/n." he recalls to his friend, tilting his head, "what? i've been talking about 'em for the past three months—suguru, have you been listening to me at all?"

"oh!" the dark-haired boy chuckles, nodding his head, "i know y/n. we're in the same literature class."

satoru stares at him in disbelief. the other students surrounding them are in their own little world, but the three of them didn't even mind them hearing if they tried. shoko continues to eat her food while suguru shrugs at his friend.

"are you kidding me?" satoru gasps out, waving a hand in the air, "i've been trying to get with them for three months and you tell me this just now?"

"you should've been more specific, man." suguru retorts, waving it off, "anyway, you gonna' ask them to be your valentine?"

satoru sighs loudly, hanging his head back, "i don't know... we only share bio together, i bet there's a lot of people who have asked them to be their valentine. they probably won't even accept mine."

shoko purses her lips and stretches her arms. "i don't know about that." she claims, "you're a pretty guy and everyone knows you. i doubt they'd pass up the chance to revel in that popularity."

"... thanks, shoko."

soon enough, the bell rings and the day goes on.

the next day, satoru notices something in your hand during biology class.

"whatchu' got there, y/n?" he asks, peaking over your shoulder. he sat behind you, enough room to see the handwritten letter you were writing.

"satoru!" you jump a little, covering the page. he furrows his brow. "it's, uh... i'm just writng something."

"is it... for valentines day tomorrow?" he inquires, curious to who was the lucky person. but you were still hiding it from him!

"no, of course not." you were lying, he could tell by the way you look to the left. a pout falls on his lips. "it's notes. for another class."

"oh... okay." he responds, a bit disappointed. why would you lie to him? he sits back in his chair, writing down some paragraphs from the textbook mindlessly. he saw the way your elbow quickly shifted, you were writing faster. your head was down too, never looking up. you were so concentrated.

he's known you for a couple of months now. you bumped into him on the way to school, and you admitted to him that you were a bit lost since you didn't live around here. satoru, being the gentleman he is, offered to escort you. you thought he was some creep (he tried reaching to hold your hand and when you jerked away on instinct, he played it off as it being the wind).

but once realising you two shared some classes together, you grew fond of him. you knew of the countless students throwing themselves at him. both older and younger. he was the school heartthrob. it's a shame though, only your smile could make his heart race like he makes others do.

when you gave him your lucky pen when he told you he didn't study and he was freaking out, you had this kind smile that made him think 'i don't want anyone else to see this but me'.

and he noticed that you awkwardly took it back from him, looking away as he clasped your hands tightly in the filled hallway and thanked you. your reactions were just the cutest...

when the bell rings, you perk up, putting your 'notes' in a suspicious looking envelope and signing it off with something. you stand up and satoru is quick to walk by your side when a classmates holds his arm to talk.

"huh?" satoru grunts, furrowed brows.

"gojo, i... i wanted to give you this." they say, holding out a teddy-bear saying 'be my valentine!'. satoru frowned when he took it. "you don't have to answer today... just let me know tomorrow, please."

as they continue to talk, he sees you exit the classroom. the letter sits comfortably in your palm, and you look left, right, before walking off. satoru is electrified.

"okay, thanks!" he says, running out of the classroom while he clutches the bear in his hands.

weaving through the crowd, he looks for the top of your head. after more and more people pass him, staring at the teddy and whispering 'who gave that to him this time?', he spots you turning the corner, a nervous look on your face. he mutters out apologies as he bumps into people heading to their next class.

the hallway you're in now is empty. you stand in front of a classroom door, waiting. notably, suguru's math class.

satoru stands at the end of the corridor, behind the corner, as the classroom door opens to reveal his best friend, geto suguru.

"suguru!" you call, smile. your shoulders are straightened, you hold the letter in front of you. not scared to show him...

"oh, y/n, hey." he responds, grinning as well. the comfortability around you two was so strange to see. "what's up?"

satoru feels like he's buzzing out. he can't hear everything you're saying, but you look a bit excited yet anxious. he hears your sweet voice speak to his best friend with such kindness that he's jealous. sure, suguru was attactive and nice and he definitely didn't feed into the popularity like satoru did, but...

why did it have to be you who was interested in him?

"please, take this." you say, handing him the same letter you had before. except this time, satoru sees the 'g.s' on it. 'geto suguru'. and you take out a box of his favourite snacks to hand to him. "thank you for everything, again. you're the best."

suguru takes it with ease, seeing how you looked at him. his gaze softens as he takes the treat as well. "you're welcome, y/n. anything you need, i'll help with." he puts the letter in his own bag before slinging am arm around your shoulders. "now, what're your plans for after?"

he was blatantly asking you out now! right after satoru told him he had feelings for you! such betrayal!

you two walk to the other end of the hallway, in the direction of your literature class. satoru slumps against the wall, furrowed brows and lips pressed into a thin line. after a second, he pushes his glasses up and lets out a slow exhale. he could get over this...

"gojo! may i please have a moment of your time?"

"wait no! me first!"

"gojo, can i talk to you?"

"please accept these!"

or maybe he couldn't.

valentines day was today and you danced into school with such confidence. you had a bouquet of flowers in your arms, chocolates of the sweetest kinds, and a bag of new perfume that you knew your crush would like.

you were so excited.

satoru, who was walking a few people behind you, was not.

he saw the amount of passion you put into the holiday, and it made him sick to know it was foe his best friend. the guys was in such a bad mood, he ignored suguru and shoko's calls this morning to meet up and walk to school together like usual.

satoru clicked his tongue, thinking about how dramatic the whole valentines day idea was. really, who needed it all anyway?

in homeroom, he can hear your class (which is next to his, across the hall) start whooping and cheering when you walk in. and he knows it's you by the chants of your last name being heard. he sits in his chair in anguish.

"satoru, morning. finally." shoko says, sitting down as well. she grins, bitting the popsicle stick between her lips. "where are all of your valentines presents?"

"stuffed in my shoe locker and under my desk." he claimed, opening the top of it to showcase the blaring red and pink gifts. she picked at one pocky box, munching on the biscuits. "how about you?"

"i got a couple letters and cookies in my locker." she claims, shrugging her shoulders, "lots of 'em are from the badminton team. i don't know why."

satoru shrugs as well as soon as suguru sits down in front of him. the blue-eyed students scoffs, looking away.

"good morning, satoru." he says, noticing his friend's behaviour, "what's got his panties in a twist this morning? does he know we called him a hundred times?"

"i dunno'." shoko says, looking out the window to the school garden. "ask him."

"satoru, what's wrong? didn't get enough presents this year?" he teases, leaning in his chair to poke his head, "wake up late?"

but satoru angrily swats his hand away. the raven-haire boy blinks curiously before satoru glares at him. "why didn't you tell me you were interested in y/n?" he asks, hurt.

shoko looks back to the two boys, seeing suguru just as confused as she is. "you're into y/n?"

"what? no! who said that?" suguru retorts, hands up in defense, "i'm not interested in dating y/n, swear on my life."

"that's a lie!" satoru accuses, pointing a finger against his friend's nose, "shoko, i saw him and y/n all... all... familiar yesterday after period 2! he had his arm around them!"

"suguru..." shoko warns.

"wait wait, that's—you got it all wrong." suguru groans, now understanding. he digs through his bag and pulls out a piece of paper. "here. open it."

satoru pushes away the paper reading 'g.s'. "no way! i'm not reading y/n's love letter to you!"

"ugh! just open it!" suguru grunts, shoving it onto his desk.

satoru begrudgingly takes it and gently opens the letter, not wanting to rip it. once his eyes fall upon the page, he confirms that it's your handwriting.

'thank you for being the sweetest boy to me. i am truly honoured to know such a beautiful person, inside and out.'

satoru wants to barf.

'sitting near you in biology really helped me to understand you, satoru. you're not only a pretty face, but a world-class sweet tooth, a sucker for romantic cliches and a cologne-collector.'

satoru thinks this is the most beautiful thing he's ever read.

he contiues to read, expression changing, letting shoko and suguru understand his thoughts. the girl looks to the other boy, who shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes.

"i'm confused." shoko states, tilting her head.

"y/n isn't confessing to me, she's confessing—"

"y/n is confessing to me! me, satoru!" satoru exclaims, waving the letter around like a maniac. everyone else in the class was suddenly a listener, peaking at the trio. they were interested in finding out what the one confession that resulted in this reaction was. "oh my god, oh my god!"

suguru nods his head. placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "yes, yes, they are. i was meant to give you the letter this morning to read before homeroom, but someone was pissy." he scoffs, shaking his head, "so i had to go and tell y/n that plans had changed."

"you... helped y/n plan this all out?" satoru mumbles, "but you didn't even know!"

shoko chuckles, staring out the window again.

"i just said i wasn't paying attention so you didn't think i was snooping. which i was. and i only told you i knew y/n so you wouldn't get any ideas, like this." suguru circles the air with his finger, deadpanning at the clueless satoru, "you think anyone would do this without definitive proof the other person liked them?"

satoru continues to read the letter you wrote for him before his eyes land on the ending. "'please meet me at the school fountain before homeroom ends.'" he murmurs out, blinking, "suguru—"

"you were meant to go two minutes ago." his friend sings out, standing in front of shoko's desk. he points out the window, much like other students were doing in their own classrooms. "you should..."

when his friends turn around to him, satoru is already one foot out of the door. he's rushing downstairs (down three flights of stairs, actually) with your letter clutched in his hand. he almost flies into a couple teachers on the way to the garden, only for their attention to be caught by students opening the windows and pointing outside.

when he rushed through the doors to the garden, you're staring at the floor, still holding the flowers and gifts you brought to school with you. taking a moment to gather himself, satoru runs fingers through his hair and fixes his glasses. the pair you've complimented a thousand times.

satoru walks closer to you and when he catches your eye, you stand up straight and smile.

"satoru." you chime, not missing the thousand pairs of eyes that were following your every move. "good morning. happy valentines day."

you hold out the flowers to him. it's set in a nice box, and the treats are in a gift bag. when you give it to him, your smile is awkward but hopeful.

"happy valentines day, y/n." he replies, taking it from you. he sits down on the fountain edge, and you follow along. "i'm so sorry, i... i don't have anything for you."

"no, no, no." you retort, grinning, "it's fine. this was a surprise for you, anyway."

he sighs, "no, i'm sorry... please, let me make it up to you."

you laugh a little, placing a hand over his on his lap. the flowers were sat on the fountain with his gifts. "sure thing." you retort, "hey, suguru told me that this morning—"

"i'm sorry, i know, i just thought..." he begins, cutting you off. he looks embarrassed, heavy blush falling over his cheeks. "i saw you and suguru yesterday and you gave him that letter. had me thinkin' you were confessing to him instead of me."

you let out a small chuckle, making him gulp, "oh my goodness, i'm sorry, i didn't mean for you to see that. we were trying to be sneaky."

satoru's chest feels lighter, and he feels better just hearing it from you. he links his fingers with yours, facing you fully.

"ah, no it's fine." he tells you, the most purest form of adoration in his eyes that you can see from the top of his slanted down glasses. you grin softly. "listen, i have had a crush on you for months... and i was hoping that you'd go out with me. i want a chance to get to know you personally, away from any prying eyes."

you peer to the side, seeing the people watching you. they were practically hanging out the window, waving their hands and fighting to view the whole scene for themselves. cameras took photos and videos, capturing your moment with him.

"i'd love that, satoru." you say, scanning his face, "you're the best."

it only takes him a single second to reach his hand out and brush his thumb agaisnt your cheek. you don't freeze up though, only relaxing into him. he was the most inviting guy you've ever met.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, voice unwavering. his blue eyes are staring at your face with such kindness that it cannot be described.

you don't even say anything, only leaaning forward and pressing your lips to his. he's smiling against your lips, gentle hand caressing your cheek. your eyes flutter shut, holding his hand tightly.

cheers erupt from the school. screams and whoops from guys and girls alike. most students are heartbroken due to the obvious confession. nobody had even gotten that close to satoru. no one has been able to hold him hand, let alone get him to go crazy over a letter. you got him to race out of that classroom like a madman, and everyone was surely surprised.

the shouts die down as the kiss deescalates, many of the students sighing as they're forced to move on.

when you pull away, satoru chases, leaving a gentle kiss against your forehead. your smile is wide and you pinch his cheek softly.

"you're such a drama queen, satoru." you say, standing up, "i was wondering why everyone started yelling and staring at me all of a sudden."

satoru stands with his presents, rubbing the back of his neck as he holds your hand. h goes to answer when a voice is heard from the fourth floor.

"the idiot took some convincing, y/n!" suguru shouts, waving his hand, "glad to know he's got some sense in him!"

"shut up, suguru!" satoru calls back, showing his fist.

"first period is about to start, you two!" the principle says through a window on the third floor, "this is all heart-warming, but you've failed two of ms kinoshita's classes, gojo!"

"r—right!" he retorts, pacing to the school entrance as people begin to 'ooh' at him. he looks back at you, smiling the brightest. "let's go out after school today, yeah? i'll buy you as many sweets as you want."

you chuckle, kissing his cheek, "my hero."

cruel woman

roronoa zoro x reader, fluff

summary: you have the hots for zoro, but does he feel the same?

The upper deck of the Sunny was shiny and clean; clipboard in hand as you descended the stairs to the kitchen. An itemized list of supplies written in neat handwriting on a piece of paper – Nami had asked if you could go around the ship and take inventory of what was needed and any special requests for the next island stop in a couple of days. The kitchen smelled like lemons, looked clean and a smiling Sanji greeted you with a simper of smile. He asked if you wanted some coffee and you said please, setting the clipboard down to go over it on the counter. He poured fresh coffee into a blue mug with the correct amount of creamer; he knew everyone’s coffee order and he was pleased when he brought the cup over, and you gave him pinch on his cheek.

The one on his face, not his ass – you didn’t need him going into cardiac arrest.

“Do you need anything for the kitchen or perhaps a special request?”

“Some time with you would be sufficient.”

“Very funny.” He had to try but then he got serious and read out a few things he needed for the kitchen. It took about ten minutes for the cook to go over everything but in the end, he was satisfied. Leaving the kitchen with your coffee, you stopped by Chopper’s office and visited the doctor for a bit. Adding more items to the list. Then it off to Ussop’s factory then Franky’s workshop. Finally, you reached the fella’s dorm and knocked, hoping to find Luffy but when you walked in – you got Zoro.

Shirtless in black sweats, damp hair, and a towel around his neck; it was obvious he had just got back from the bath, but you pretended not to care about his near perfect physique. Biceps, abs, triceps…all the ceps of his body…

“Like what you see, huh?”

He teased but you shrugged, holding up the clipboard. “Not really. Too broad. I like the leaner athletic type – like Sanji. So, do you need to put anything on the supply list?”

Zoro frowned. “Uh, no – I don’t think so.”

Staring at him, dull in the eyes, you took a long sip of coffee and inhaled contently. “Well, if you change your mind, still have a few days before we dock. See ya later.”

The man looked dumbstruck, but you left him to ease his ego; leaving quickly back up to the kitchen. Your entire face felt on fire and all you wanted to do was go to your bed and relieve yourself of a sick desire. Zoro had been flaunting himself a lot lately but maybe he wasn’t and your sudden interest in him was due to the lack of companionship. There was the option to share a bed with the cook, but he was too friendly with all the ladies, and you were a jealous fool most times. That endeavor would end up with a knife in some poor girl’s heart Sanji had made eyes at – it was best to leave that all alone. Even if you wanted to…you couldn’t look past Zoro.

Something about that broad shoulder idiot.

“Come for more coffee?”

“I’m all done, thank you.”

Sanji beckoned you over to the sink and you watched as he rinsed out the mug, handing it over for you to dry. He stood quietly for a moment until he asked if you had everything for the list and then he asked if Zoro needed anything. “He never needs anything or anyone.”

The comment slipped out of your mouth, and you winced. Sanji chuckled. “We really need to get you on land. If you’re starting to lust after Zoro, God, help us all.”

Nudging him in the ribs, you scolded him for making fun of your woes. “It’s getting serious, I walked in on him shirtless…”

“Oh, god, please stop.”

You laughed and handed over the clean mug. Sanji plucked it from your hands and returned it back to the cabinet it belonged in, turning to lean against the counter. He lit a cigarette and asked if you were really down that bad. His sincerity threw you into a laughing fit and he joined, until you reached over and touched his shoulder to hold you up. He laughed harder and tears were forming in your eyes just as the kitchen door swung open. Zoro walked in, with a shirt on, and a look of confusion when the two of you stared at him before bursting into a louder laugh.

“Idiots.”

He left the kitchen in a huff and eventually the laugher died down. Sanji wiped tears from his eyes and patted the top of your head. “You guys will figure it out, if not, my bed is always open to.”

“See that’s the problem, Mr. Prince,” you touched his tie and straightened it up before pushing him away. “I’m a jealous son of a bitch. I would have to pluck your eyes out from stopping you from staring at another woman.”

The cook smirked. “Point taken.”

….

The rest of the evening was uneventful; Sanji served dinner, everyone drank and went to bed with warm bellies. Nami slept right away but Robin was still up reading when you left the room for fresh air; a warm jacket because the sea was usually freezing during the night. Up on the deck, the ship was quiet sans for the sounds of waves gently lulling the vessel forward. Yawning, you walked over to the railing and leaned forward to stare down at the ocean. Eyes glued to the waves you didn’t notice someone moving to your side and when you finally stood straight – you jumped at the sight of Zoro. He grinned at your yelp and asked what you were doing out so late.

“I’m waiting for Sanji to finish up cleaning the kitchen so we can cuddle in his bunk.”

You were so wrong for that but the look of discontent on the swordman’s face brought on a gloating smile. He rolled his eyes and mentioned how bony Sanji was. “Have fun trying to keep warm.”

Retorting with a quip that noted all the ways to warm up one’s body, Zoro gripped the edge of the ship’s railing and glared out into the ocean. Cruel woman, that’s what he called you and you agreed. Finally realizing you were teasing him the entire time, Zoro loosened up and asked if you wanted to come back to his bunk. “I can keep you warm.”

Adjusting to the moonlight, you gave Zoro a once over and asked him why he wanted you in his bunk. The question perplexed the man, and you watched as the gears turned in his eyes, he seemed lost in thought for what felt ages but then he finally confessed that he just wanted you to. “Don’t have more of a reason than that…unless you really do want to sleep in the cook’s bed. Can’t stop you. But I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me lately, I’m not blind.”

“How have I been looking at you.” You challenge the man and his eyes narrowed, grabbing you light by the elbow. He grinned, body lingering close to yours. “Like you’re in heat.”

Pulling from him, you practically snarled at him. “You’re a real son of bitch, you know that?”

He let out a low chuckle, apologizing as he pulled you back. Words were never his forte, but he managed to tell you to stay, that he had always been driven by his dream, the crew, Luffy, but you had disrupted his life. “I’m not that damn Prince, I never cared about this kinda of thing.”  He held your hand carefully, as if you’d burn him. “I probably can’t give you everything you deserve…”

“What do you know about what I deserve?”

Zoro grew serious. “I’ll always have your back; I can guarantee that.”

Pretending to contemplate what he was saying, your finger tapped the edge of your chin and Zoro sighed. “Cruel woman.”

Laughing, you slipped both arms around his neck and he smiled, hands on your waist. The two of you stood silent, allowing yourselves time to devour the moment under the stars above the ocean – and the sound of the waves, pushing against the ship. Zoro let out rasped breath when your fingers massaged the back of his head, his entire body practically went into relaxation mode, and you laughed. “I’m not so cruel, am I?”

He roughly pulled you against his body and the two of you stared at each other, secret smiles on your faces. Hands on each other’s faces, your lips crashed just as the waves did and your heart skipped harder than you ever thought possible. You hoped he was feeling the same and by the way Zoro leaned in for another kiss – you knew he did. Breathless, he finally pulled away; cheeks red, lips bruised. He looked like a shy schoolboy and not the fierce man he was, it was endearing. He asked again if you wanted to come back to his bunk and the thought of being with him in the same room as the others made you uneasy and Zoro laughed. “Not like that, not with that cook in there too. Just sleep. I need sleep.”

Relieved, you agreed, and he took your hand – leading you to the men’s quarters. Quiet snores filled the room, drastic from the silence in the woman’s quarters every night. Zoro led you to his bottom bunk, got in first and moved over for you. Slipping down next to him, he immediately engulfed you in his arms – every muscle in his body surrounded you with ease and warmth. No blanket was needed, he was enough. With your back pressed against his chest, arms around your waist and his nose nuzzled against your hair – the two of you fell asleep instantly. Neither of you cared what the others would think when they woke up, completely unaware that Sanji would be the one to find you first. He would roll his eyes at the sight of you cradled in Zoro’s arms and the way you both drooled as if having the best sleep of your lives. Idiots, he would think but he knew better than most, the heart wanted what it wanted.

.....

tagging

@posessedbytheinternet @smolracoon25 @notthemainblog

@xentaipriest @xitara666 @rouzuchan @southside-otaku

@dimplewonie @stuckinthewrongworld @yourmomsgirl

@zoroshispanicwife @reneeprika @themossiestchick

@cyberneticsmoker @starrlovet

⌕ MY LOVE MIX UP | h. iwaizumi

PRECIS. the chances of you confessing to your crush sums to zero when you realise you have to pretend to have a crush on iwaizumi, just to help your friend hide her feelings for him. ( 22.1k )

GENRE. fluff, humour, minor angst

WARNINGS. satirical mentions of dying and killing i'm sorry, one ( 1 ) break up but it isn't even real tbvh, reader is insecure, iwaizumi ( he deserves his own warning ) very cute at some point like you'd want to close the app ig, iwa is too good to be real ( he isn't real ) they're all second years. tatsuya and hayato are some random guys, kyoka is reader's best friend

NOTE. hi 😭 i originally wrote this for another fandom but had iwa in mind all the time so here's to him. ( if you've read the og pls ignore this i am not creative ) oikawa im sorry ( fr this was so hard to write as an oikawa kisser lawl ) happy reading. ps. very slightly inspired from kieta hatsukoi

“hey, pass me your eraser.” you whisper to kyoka, who was busy having her head in hands because of the maths practice question paper lying in front of her. 

she deadpans, fetching a spare eraser from her pencil pouch. “you haven’t returned me the pen i lent you, yet,” but when have you ever returned her stuff you borrow, except a few times. she’s your best friend and there’s an unspoken rule that everything that belongs to her is yours, and vice-versa; even though she strongly disagrees. 

you expect her to help you either way. call it the payments for all the times she has borrowed mangas and books from you, and never returned. it’s normal, the give and take in your friendship is astronomical. what you don’t expect is for the eraser to have a name written on it and wait— it’s someone from your class? because as far as you remember, the only ‘ih’ you and kyoka are familiar with, is iwaizumi hajime. 

a sense of superiority floods your head as your lips curl into a menacing smirk. finally, some good news, and good enough for you to blackmail your best friend for a couple of months, at least. she’s not the type to confess without prior stressful, crying sessions, which takes quite some time. you’re so busy in your thoughts, you don’t notice falling down when iwaizumi turns around, passing you the question paper. moreover, you also fail to notice when iwaizumi picks it up and places it on your desk, until he turns back again with a surprised grimace. 

“huh?”

you stare back in confusion. “what?” 

“that eraser,” iwaizumi gulps, eyes fluctuating between you and the eraser in your hand, with visible panic evident on his face. “it had my name.” 

“no, it doesn’t.” that’s a lie. “you’re mistaken.” he’s not. 

no one wants to lie at nine in the morning, right before a practice test, especially to someone who you’ve never talked to in your whole life; unless people are crazy enough to lie pathologically as a passion. you, however, happen to do the same, in hopes he would believe you. 

but iwaizumi is sure he saw his name on your eraser. not only his name, but a heart as well. ‘ih ♡’ that’s what it said, and he’s certainly assured that it’s for him. 

“i’m not. i’m sure i saw my name,” at this point, none of you care about the practice test. he’s trying to prove his point while your mind is lost amongst the field of excuses, looking for the right one. 

“no, you didn’t. you’re mistaken!” gaslighting is definitely not the right excuse but, that’s the best you came up with, in seconds. the look on his face tells you that he isn’t buying your words. you slowly feel the situation grip out of your hand, every second burdening on your shoulders as you hope for iwaizumi to give up and move on like nothing ever happened. 

“then, show me the eraser,” iwaizumi demands, eyes fixed on you for a response. he trusts his instincts, he should, he isn’t lying. you don’t know him at all, but you know that if he wants something, he gets it, no matter that. “if i’m mistaken, then show it to me. i’ll check myself.”

and so he does, snatching the eraser from your fist as he looks at you with a knowing gaze. there’s amusement in his eyes, a glint of pink resting on his cheeks, but that’s from the winter cold.

“no way, yn, you like iwaizumi?” that’s tatsuya, and this shouldn’t be happening. you whip your head around, looking at him as he seizes the eraser from iwaizumi’s grip, taking a better look at it. “who would’ve expected?” 

no one, exactly. you don’t even know iwaizumi. he’s just a classmate, someone who’s popular in the whole school but not in your eyes. you respect him for his grades and talent, but you’ve never paid him any attention. instead, your mind has always revolved around tatsuya, forever looking at him in a room full of angels, to put it in better words. 

“listen, it’s not mine.” yeah, it’s better to not lie; not in front of tatsuya. why is he here in the first place? tatsuya sleeps through his days at school, no matter how important the classes are, and somehow still manages to score good marks. he’s a miracle, a work of art, epitome of intelligence and beauty, a true angel. your heart overflows with love for him. 

“who does it belong to?” iwaizumi counters, and you don’t want to answer. honestly, you could do way better if tatsuya left but like a curious cat, his eyes hover over you for a response. 

“it’s—” a pause. you can’t possibly disclose your friend’s feelings, that’d be unfair to her. and you, well, you have no option but to lie and save yourself a good friendship. “mine.”  

you don’t look at iwaizumi’s face. you simply don’t have the courage to do that. so, you get to the practice question paper lying on your desk, reading through algebraic equations while your brain is enmeshed between maths, your friend, and the person you’re pretending to have a crush on; all in the presence of your actual crush. 

.

.

.

you’re pretty sure you bombed the test royally. 

there’s no way you’d score in double digits, for your brain was ( and still is ) busy distressing over the two biggest problems of your life. first, the boy you never talked to in the two years you spent as a highschool student, believes you have a crush on him; and second, your actual crush also believes you have a crush on iwaizumi. 

great, things couldn’t have been any better. moreso, out of all the people, it’s iwaizumi. you don’t hate him; god, you don’t think you can ever. he’s too nice, almost as a saint. probably the nicest person you’ve met till. he treats every girl he rejects, as an ‘apology’. which may be a good thing since he doesn’t seem to like you, so it’s a free treat for you, but that’s besides the point. 

he’s so nice, you feel bad for lying to him. confessions may not surprise him anymore but the look in his eyes explained that he took every word you said to his heart. see, that’s the problem with excessively good people. you can’t lie to them, and if you do then the guilt corrupts your head, constantly making you feel bad about yourself. 

he’s warm, friendly, enthusiastic, outgoing, easy to please. he’s quick to show appreciation, yet accepts without judgement or criticism, the human weakness of others. that’s iwaizumi to everyone in the school, including teachers and staff. 

“hey,” you greet awkwardly, eyeing the students in the hallway to make sure no one is gossiping. mayhaps, you’re overthinking but iwaizumi is pretty popular and you’d rather not get involved with him. “let’s talk.” 

now, iwaizumi doesn’t know why he needs to follow you to the terrace. you can talk right here, in class, or near the volleyball gym for the lack of better space. anywhere, but terrace. though, iwaizumi doesn’t refute. he follows you closely, as if you’ve casted a spell on him. iwaizumi doesn’t harbour romantic feelings for you, he’s sure, and had it been someone else, he would’ve already turned them down. no ‘let’s talk,’ and no ‘following them to terrace,’— but you, for some reason, make it harder for him to be his typical self and follow his classic rules. 

you shut the door, looking around to check for unwanted presence on the terrace. this is easy, it has to be easy, you have a plan. it’s simple; you’ll tell him that this whole situation is nothing but a massive misunderstanding. you don’t have feelings for him, the ‘ih’ with heart on the eraser is actually izumi hashima— and you don’t know who izumi hashima is but you’re going to lie again, and say she’s your best friend’s older sister who you had taken a liking to as an elementary school student. it sounds perfect in your head, dodging all pits of failure. 

“so, about the eraser—”

“i don’t like you,” iwaizumi blurts out, interrupting you in between while you stare at him wide eyed because this was not in the plan. “i mean, i do like you but not in that way. you seem like a good person, we can get to know each other and. . .”

rest all is a blur. you don’t focus on his words, for you’re too busy admiring him, platonically. not only has he got a handsome face and smart, wrinkly brain, but he’s painfully kind. if kindness was a crime, he’d get a death penalty. no wonder, the students in your school treat him like a god, and would make him their new religion at any given moment, if offered the opportunity to. “ah, so this is why it’s so easy to fall for you,”

you can’t believe you just mumbled that out loud; and even if you did, you’d like you believe you didn’t, until you saw his flabbergasted grimace. “it’s not how it sounds!” right, you think he’d believe you after your silly little confession. you sigh, giving up before you make it harder for you to sort this out. “just— forget any of this happened, okay?” 

“are you sure?” iwaizumi counters. 

“yes, very sure.” infact, you haven’t been sure-er about anything else till date. “and, don’t tell anyone either.”  

that’s a peculiar request. well, for someone who gave closures to rejection using meals, iwaizumi doesn’t know what is right in this situation. his plan was to treat you this evening as an apology, but you rather possess a different request. you want him to pretend like this never happened, and iwaizumi wonders if it’s so much easier to discard your feelings. “why do i feel like you’re going to cry when you get home?”

“i won’t, and even i do, that's my problem. just, don’t bring this up ever again,” you didn’t mean to lash out, but frustration gets the best of you, and you don’t want to spend another minute apologising or rather, striking a conversation with him. “if you have nothing more to say, i’ll leave first.” 

you simply walk out, without giving him any opportunity to speak. today has been crazy. iwaizumi still hasn’t processed the entirety of the prior events. how did you even fall for him? he knows he has quite an attractive face and a very intricately built physique. however, looks are secondary to interactions, and you’ve never really talked to him until today. 

perhaps, it was when he lent you his umbrella, or when he lent you his notes, or when he thanked you for helping him in art class. it has to be one of those because none of you have ever talked besides those three times. 

he doesn’t get it, is it easy for people to fall for someone just because of looks? or to put it in your words, is it really easy to fall for him? most importantly, do you not mind disregarding your feelings and asking him to forget it? it’s strange, and while he would eventually end up forgetting it, he doesn’t understand why you’re so . . . unbothered. 

iwaizumi has met all sorts of people. the ones who follow him around to get attention, ones who confess and guilt trip when rejected, ones who deliberately throw themselves at him, ones who understand and move on, but you don’t fit any of those categories. you don’t fit his definition of admirers and even though it may seem like he’s overthinking, he’s not. iwaizumi doesn’t know why he cares so much. in fact, you’ve made it easier for him to handle this ordeal. he doesn’t need to spend his money on you to shut your mouth and not talk about anything related to their confession to anyone. ( you see, that’s the reason why no one ever hears a news about iwaizumi being confessed to again, unless someone is brave enough to give a public confession )

he kicks the stray stone lying around on his way back home, hands in his pockets while the thought of you keeps bothering him constantly. he has way too many questions and absolutely no time to waste, however, upon much consideration, a conclusion lands on the palm of his hands — it feels like you’re rejecting iwaizumi, despite being the one to confess first, and god, you don’t know how much that irks him. 

.

.

.

“yn, you’ll be late if you spend another minute fixing your hair!” your mother shouts from the kitchen and honestly, that’s the plan: getting late and skipping school. you don’t have a reason, well you do, but it lacks the logical aspects. 

the reason— iwaizumi. did he turn you down? yes. did you tell him to forget it? yes. do you trust him? no. despite being one of the nicest guys to ever walk on earth, iwaizumi doesn’t look trustable. you’re afraid he would’ve spread the news to everyone, his friends, your friends, you’re scared so much that you haven’t opened group chats ever since you woke up. besides, there’s tatsuya. he practically lives for drama. tatsuya is a soul of honesty, but unfortunately, he has a sneaky, thievish, sinister look— making it harder for you to trust him entirely.

despite your subtle attempts, your mother ends up kicking you out of the house before you delay even more. for a brief second, you consider skipping school and spending the whole day watching movies or something. you’re down, almost, until you hear a familiar voice chanting your name from a distance. 

“you’ve been avoiding me since yesterday,” kyoka pants, hands on your shoulder to prevent you from running away again. 

“uh, i have?” you shoot her a crooked smile, trying to think of a convincing excuse. you’ve been so busy amongst your thoughts that you forgot about her. “by the way, your eraser—”

“oh, you saw it, didn’t you?” she mumbles, averting her gaze to a cat passing by as you both enter the school premises. “i like him so much but i’m scared to confess.”

“it’s okay, you have my support,” you should be scared, you want to say. while, that’s not how a supportive friend must react, considering iwaizumi’s history with confessions, everyone should be scared of confessing to him. talking about iwaizumi, you don’t spot him anywhere, which is actually a good thing. maybe he called in sick, or even better, changed schools, even though it makes no sense. 

the first class goes just fine and you thank the higher deities for it. unfortunately, or fortunately enough, tatsuya didn’t come to school as well. maybe, both him and iwaizumi met up and shat on you but it’s fine, as long as others don’t know about it. maybe, it’s not as fine as it seems since your eyes are burning to see tatsuya. 

god must really be on your side because you haven’t seen iwaizumi all day, and neither have you come across even a speck of gossip about yesterday’s events. his seat remained empty in front of you as you unknowingly spent the whole day thinking about him. perhaps, you’re worried; is he the one crying at home? that’s unlikely. you decide to skip your last class and move to the terrace, enjoying the cold breeze from last night’s showers. 

standing here, by the edge of the terrace, makes you feel like a main character; as if you have a perfect life, and a perfect lover, and a perfect future to grasp, it’s premeditated, yet interesting. even though none of it is true, a person can dream. it seems way to perfect until you’re pulled back by a hand around your arm, almost stumbling. before you’re framed against the wall beside you. 

“what do you think you’re doing?!” fantastic. suddenly, you don’t want to be the main character anymore because there’s iwaizumi, and you’re standing close to him, very close, so close that you can feel his breath fan over your face. “are you crazy? do you really plan to end your life over something so trivial?!” 

you panic because of the close proximity, stomping on his foot as he yells, stepping away from you. “what are you talking about because i don’t plan on dying anytime soon, iwaizumi hajime!”

a pause, everything goes silent. you hear the breeze, you have one of the prettiest boys of your school crouching in front of you because you stepped on his foot deliberately. this seems like the perfect setup for a marriage and a murder, and you’re heavily considering the latter. 

“wait you aren’t—” 

“no, i’m not dying and why are you even here? i thought you called in sick or something.”  

“we had a game. i thought tatsuya told you,” he clarifies, standing up while shooting you a sour look. as for tatsuya, he happens to be the manager for the men’s volleyball team. it’s funny because oikawa picked him over fifteen other girls who applied, all because of two reasons: first, he’s on good terms with tatsuya and second, it’s better to have a guy try to get on your nerves rather than a girl fangirling over the crew. besides, it’s a win for tatsuya too, who does nothing but sleep at school. “i always come to the terrace after a game.”

he adds, and you wonder if it’s a good thing to have in common with him. again, you don’t trust him because you’ve never seen him on the terrace; and you happen to be the official resident of your highschool terrace, so notorious that you’ve also received detention for invading prohibited boundaries. 

“i also come here, sometimes,” you mean multiple times, everyday. why you’re here talking with iwaizumi is beyond your comprehension, but for some reason, you’re not against it. it doesn’t feel forced or frustrating. in fact, his presence is rather calm, and you think it’s because he’s tired from his match. “so, did you win?” 

“by 3-2, yes. i’m starting to hate metre spikes, though, for some reason.” that sounds awfully familiar. you’re not accustomed with volleyball terminologies, however tatsuya happens to vent to you about the same every now and then. it’s funny for iwaizumi to hate dinks, despite being a spiker himself. besides, you’ve heard a few people talk about how iwaizumi apparently loves metre spikes.

“that’s—” he proceeds to speak, interjected by footsteps approaching the rooftop. 

“iwaizumi—” oh, no. you knew things were going too well to be true. “ooh, okay, i’m sorry for interrupting you two love birds but cap’ needs you downstairs, ‘iwa. be quick.” tatsuya has awful timing. he could’ve been the person to think you’re planning to jump and save you but no, he had to arrive much later, right when you and iwaizumi are standing next to each other, looking like decent friends or rather, like ‘love birds’ in tatsuya’s eyes. 

he winks at your ‘boyfriend’ and you die a little on the inside. tatsuya is more excited about you and iwaizumi than the two of you. honestly, excited isn’t even the right word for you both. you just want to stay away from him and iwaizumi, well, whatever the hell he has going on with him. 

“you should go,” that’s the best you can come up with, to end the conversation. you don’t need him around, that was the original plan. to ignore him, and have him ignore you. you know iwaizumi isn’t responsible for this misunderstanding between you and tatsuya. however, you can’t help but criticise him in the back of your mind. 

“yn,” he calls out, though slightly quieter than usual with a hint of hesitation in his voice. “about your confession, i think rejecting you was unfair. so, let’s get to know each other first, and then i’ll give a final response.” 

what. just what in the world— okay, you’re calm, you’re trying to be calm. you hear his footsteps fade away as he bids you goodbye with a soft ‘see you around’ and no, you strongly disagree. you don’t want to see him anywhere near you, not when tatsuya is convinced that you’re dating iwaizumi and you’re trying to come up with ways to break the truth to him. 

you see, you have abilities to do miracles, like creating more problems for yourself while trying to solve one. it’s funny how you arrived to school delightfully, knowing the two boys who can possibly fuck up your life are absent, only to go back home with a fake ‘boyfriend’ thanks to yourself. 

YOU'RE CONSIDERING changing schools, really. 

ignoring iwaizumi doesn’t help. he’s too hashtag deep into getting to know you better that he accompanies you almost everywhere. your mornings for the past three days have been commencing with iwaizumi and ending with him as well. moreso, you have people looking at you while you commute through school as if you’re on a red carpet. you wake up and greet your a couple hundred new followers on instagram who have you added in a group called ‘iwaizumi shrine.’ it makes sense. the school's most popular boy, who has never shown interest in anyone, suddenly started talking to you and acting like you’re his top priority. it makes completely, hundred percent sense. you’d be curious too if your favourite celebrity suddenly started hanging out with some random person. 

it’s like a revolution and you don’t want to be a part of it. 

“tired?” kyoka asks, sitting next to you by the track field. “looks like you’ve gotten busier.” 

yeah, you have, and the pain is visible on your face. you want to get back to the days when people paid you no mind and continued with their life. waking up to a bunch of notifications and post-it notes on your locker, asking for iwaizumi’s number or one of his exclusive pictures is draining you out; and surprisingly, you don’t have iwaizumi’s number in the first place. “kyoka, help me,” you whine, leaning onto her shoulders as she shoves you away. 

“i’m sure the gossip will die down in a few days,” enjoy the fame while you can, yes. you know she was going to add that too. however, this isn’t fun. as much as you’re enjoying this special treatment from iwaizumi, it feels as if you’re walking on eggshells; like your life resonates between the flight of bumblebee and hall of mountain king as your theme songs. 

besides, kyoka likes iwaizumi and you’re practically deceiving her. even though she knows you and iwaizumi as just friends, that’s simply what you wanted her to know. she doesn’t know he’s trying to get to know you better for the sake of a relationship, or that iwaizumi knows about the eraser but he thinks you have a crush on him instead of kyoka. 

it’s a mess, and it’s hard trying not to break someone’s heart. she doesn’t know the truth. she doesn’t even know you have a date with iwaizumi after school. 

“whatever, are you going to audition for that cinderella play?” oh, right. you forgot about it. you don’t have a picturesque memory either way and iwaizumi is simply making it harder for you to focus on things that are not him. you’re sure kyoka would say something along the lines of ‘you’re down bad,’ if you ever told her about your dilemma, and honestly, you are. you are down bad to escape iwaizumi, get out of his life or just get him out of yours; whichever is faster and easier. 

“are you?” you counter as a football rolls near your legs, your eyes following the player following it shortly. it’s iwaizumi, and he— wait, he plays volleyball, so why is he on the field playing in the football team? whatever, it’s none of your business anyway. you pass the ball, a soft thank you slips off his lips as he runs away. a pause, you are getting ideas and maybe, maybe iwaizumi is about to become your business if you put enough effort into it. “do you think iwaizumi will audition for prince charming?” 

you see her smirk as he nudges your shoulders. “why, are you planning to be his cinderella?” 

“what? ew, no,” okay, maybe the ew was an exaggeration. though, the thought of you being cinderella when he’s prince charming makes you want to puke. “i’m just asking because he’s the most suitable candidate. besides, you can audition for cinderella.”

oh, you feel so smart for coming up with the plan : have them casted, they kiss and fall in love. probably the smartest you’ve ever been. cupid has a competition and it’s you. 

“why would i audition for cinderella if—” she pauses, lips curling into a smile as her eyes set on something behind you. kyoka doesn’t waste another moment, proceeding to stand up and pat the dust off her uniform. “senior,” 

you feel the air around you shift. 

“hope i’m not interrupting something,” she’s quick to shake her head in denial, the smile never leaving her lips while you witness the whole scene from the sidelines. “i was hoping you’d audition for cinderella in the play. no pressure, just that your performance was great in last year’s play,” 

“ah, of course, i would. are you audi—” 

a frown sets on her face as the supposed ‘senior’s’ phone rings. you feel the air shift, yet again. “i have to answer this. see you in the club room later!” 

“see you!” you’re not sure what you saw. kyoka, your friend, the kyoka who’s known for decking people in her first year switched personalities like it was her favourite colour. “turns out, i’m auditioning,” 

yeah no, you couldn’t care less about the senior or the personality shift. at least, he made your job a tad bit easier. now, all you need to do is convince iwaizumi. 

.

.

.

“do you need something?” iwaizumi asks, grabbing his earphones from the locker. now, how do you explain that you need him to audition for prince charming’s role so that you can set him and your friend up? 

“oh, nothing? i was just curious about what you were doing,” and iwaizumi hajime is actually gullible enough to buy that. honestly, your excuse is not baseless, considering how you both are in the ‘talking stage’ of the relationship. “have you heard about the auditions for the cinderella play?” 

he nods, closing his locker. “yes, matsukawa is one of the hosts. why do you ask?” 

“uhh, i was wondering if you’d like to audition for prince charming?” you could’ve voice it better. you know, more confident, making it sound less like you’re plotting something. you’re in no state to answer any questions, if he ever asks. 

he blinks, and then blinks again. a few seconds bask in silence and you’re ready to apologise but iwaizumi beats you to it. “will you audition for cinderella?” 

as proven, you’re in no state to answer questions, especially that one. why would you even audition for cinderella? first of all, you can’t act to save your life. second of all, even if you could, you wouldn’t audition when iwaizumi is the most probable candidate for the main lead. “why do you ask?” 

“i’ll register if you audition for cinderella,” nah, ain’t no way iwaizumi hajime just did that and walked away like he didn’t just flip your head upside-down. you turn around, watching him waltz through the hallways like king louis xvi or something. at this point, you’re simply resisting the urge to yell at him. 

you almost give up. almost. 

you’ll get a number of opportunities to set him and kyoka up together, maybe the luck isn’t on your side. moreover, iwaizumi is the only suitable candidate for prince charming in your eyes. there’s no way the theatre club is accepting someone else if a man like him is breathing among the peasants. so, in the end, they will cast him no matter what. yes, you’re right, they will. 

but what if they don’t? you hate your mind for holding onto that question and making it your living crisis but truthfully, you have this situation under your control. all you have to do is audition and surprise, iwaizumi’s already casted. besides, you do feel bad for backing off when you can literally save everyone some time and help them for your greater good. 

all you have to do is audition, it’s easy, like a cakewalk, taking a lollipop from a kid. maybe not the last one since, kids these days are animalistic ( you’ve heard a few barking on streets ) it’s still easy, very easy. 

you can do it. 

.

.

.

yes, you can do it. 

you have another plan. all you have to do is go to the stage and give the most mind-rotting, heart-stopping, life-ruining audition ever. you have to unleash the unskilled actor inside you, make it look like you can do anything but act. you have to drag the cinderella role around and make it seem like even the one playing as the tree in the backdrop is a better actor than you. 

yes, it’ll leave you embarrassed. you’ll actually have to switch schools, probably; but it’s fine, as long as iwaizumi gets the prince charming role. 

“alright, next.” one of the club heads announce and surprisingly, the senior from earlier today is present as well. you watch the participant walk up the stage and god, everyone auditioning for cinderella looks drop dead gorgeous. “kim tatsuya, you’re auditioning for cinderella?” 

“yes.” he replies. 

“why?”

“do you think there’s anyone else who fits the role more than me?” you almost scoffed out loud. the confidence? the charm? the smirk on his face? he fits the role of evil step mother more than cinderella. while waiting for your turn, you search for kyoka, remembering you haven’t seen her in the club room at all. a part of you wonders if she dipped— even though she isn’t like this— you couldn’t help but worry about your whole plan going down the drain. 

you excuse yourself out of the club room, halting by the neighbouring classroom when you see a familiar figure sitting by the teacher’s desk. “kyoka?” turns out it’s actually her, and you release the breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding in for a while now. “what’s wrong?” 

despite doing everything for your own good, you couldn’t help but worry about her. kyoka is perhaps the most self-righteous person you’ve ever met, in a good way. she’s confident in herself, she knows what she’s capable of and what not. she’s not afraid to try, even if she thinks it’s beyond her limits. so, seeing her all alone like this, it felt just like failing a test of a subject you’ve mastered. 

she looks into your eyes, a hint of hesitation settling on her face. “yn, i’m scared. everyone here is so good.” you want to laugh, not the right timing, but you want to. 

“no, stop. you’re better. you received the best female lead award last year, you can do it.” you assure, and it’s really funny coming from someone who’s probably the best candidate for cinderella’s role, saying that she’s scared. you wouldn’t say other participants auditioning are unskilled, neither do you know if there’s anyone out there who’s better than her. however, little do you know that your performance is definitely going to make her confidence fall back at her feet for kyoka to pick it up. 

“yn, they’re calling you inside.” one of the club members informs you. a sigh spins into the air as you look at your friend, nodding as she shoots you an assuring smile. you can do it. you’re going to give your worst.

“yn— oh, you’re kyoka’s friend!” the club president exclaims as soon as you step in front of perform and ironically, it’s the senior; something hayato, as his jacket says. “i’m looking forward to your performance.”

yeah, no don’t. you don’t want anyone to look forward to anything you’re going to do for the next five minutes or so. this is about your reputation, your dignity, your highschool life, and everything else. and, how you had dreamt of a highschool life like in those movies, peaceful like quilts falling on glistening water; but, after all, movies are just movies. real life is much different, because right now you’re going to embarrass yourself in front of everyone for your best friend and the guy she likes. 

“i’ll start,” you shook an awkward smile, a deep breath, it’s now or never. “here . . . kitty kitty kitty kitty . . . c’mon kitty . . .” a pause, your voice dies of shame and regrets. “Lucifer! come here—” that was so loud, you practically see a few people flinch. 

“wait, wait,” one of the judges interjects, shuffling through their script. “which scene are you enacting?” 

you cock your face to your left, awkwardly. “the opening scene?” 

hayato sighs. he’s probably regretting looking forward to your performance. “no no, do that one. the one with the prince, where cinderella runs away.” 

you get in stance, clearing your throat for another life-threatening performance. “oh . . . but i must go—” 

“stop,” the judges interrupt again and this time, you’re fueling with anger. maybe if they didn’t want you to perform, they shouldn’t have added your name in the first place. “yn, there’s the passion?” 

“i’m giving my everything, tatsuya.” what a liar. 

“you aren’t giving shit.” tatsuya deadpans, rolling his eyes as you stand with your hands on your hips as if you’ve just served an oscar worthy performance. “you sound dead inside, as if you didn’t want to go to the ball in the first place.” no he’s right, you didn’t want to. you’re the only cinderella in the whole world who wants to avoid the ball and the prince, at all cost. you are, in fact, dead inside. 

“alright, let’s try again—”

“no, thank you.” you refuse, or more like, take your time and try your shot at getting out of this place right now. “that’s all i had. i hope i get selected.” funny, very funny. only fools would select someone as talented as you for a play that’s supposed to be streamed live on the school's youtube account.

you rush your way outside the club room, ignoring the giggles and murmurs that followed. it’s fine, you anticipated this and brought this upon yourself. you don’t know why you feel bad, though. maybe because everyone is making fun of you, or perhaps, it’s kyoka and how she’s finally going to get the role; happy tears, for sure. or maybe, it’s because of iwaizumi. maybe you expected him to be there, no matter how ugly and unclassy your performance was. after all, you did it for him. he asked you to audition, and for someone who wants him out of their life, you sure are more upset than you should be. 

“i was looking for you,” you look up in the direction of the voice, eyes residing upon iwaizumi as he hands you a bottle of water before standing next to you, by the classroom window. “i thought you wanted to watch kyoka’s performance.” 

you chuckle. you don’t need to be there to know she’d do great. you just know it. she has always been the ideal student and it’s for a reason. “i know she’ll do amazing, as always.” 

“are you jealous?” it’s a question that catches you off guard. you don’t know where it came from, or what made him think you’re jealous of kyoka. she has a lot of qualities, and honestly, you have wished for wanting to be like her; but jealousy is not the right word. “sorry, that didn’t sound right. but, you did your best, too. it was good.” 

you laugh, and it’s probably the only genuine one so far today. ‘doing your best,’ it’s funny. you know you could’ve done better, you are better, but you did it for your friend, for him. you don’t know if iwaizumi means his word. you’re not sure if he actually found your performance good or if he’s consoling you just for the sake of it. it’s probably the latter, however, you’re thankful for it, even if it’s just fake comfort. 

“thanks?” yeah, it’s just fake. after all, everything so far is fake. the confession, the rejection, it sounds scripted. maybe, this is the most you and iwaizumi have talked till date. you do want to stay away from him, you still do, but today can be an exception. “are we still down for today?” 

you didn’t mean to ask that. you don’t know why you asked that, but when you notice the corner of his lips curl up, you realise that it was the right move. “the date? of course.” 

thinking about it now, you haven’t seen iwaizumi smile. well, you have, but not with you. not like you are a reason for him to smile, but you’d be lying if you say you don’t find his smile pretty. it’s adorable, especially the way his nose scrunches up and the way his eyes close completely when he grins. it’s cute, you think, and then find yourself too stunned to think further when you realise you just called him cute inside your head. 

“uh, i’ll go.” yeah, it’s better to leave. you’re losing your mind after talking to him. god knows what made you think staying around iwaizumi was a good idea. 

“yn,” he calls your name, having you turn around to look at him. “see you later.” and lord, your heart might’ve just done something unspeakable.

.

.

.

it’s arrhythmia. 

you’re sure it’s arrhythmia because ain’t know why you’re experiencing increased heartbeats all of a sudden. you’re glad you had only half the classes or you would’ve fainted. to be honest, your current stance isn’t any better. you’re here outside school, waiting for iwaizumi to come so that you can go to the cafe together for your silly little ‘date.’ you can’t believe you had to lie to kyoka about it. 

on another note, he’s late. you’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes. you didn’t know school’s heartthrob has no punctuality. you wonder if the teachers would get upset if they know that their favourite boy makes his date wait for over fifteen minutes. you’re about to give him a call when your phone rings inside your pocket and coincidently, it’s a call from him. 

“hi yn, i’m sorry for being la—”

“hello to you too mr. iwaizumi hajime.” you cut him off, slight mockery evident in your tone as you feel him hesitate on the other side. “if i may remind you, we have a date.”  

you hear him sigh through the phone. “i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t know the coach would hold us back for extra practice. if you want, i can try asking to leave early.” 

“no, please. i’m joking. you don’t have to skip practice for me,” you smile, pacing around the school exit. well, normally you would’ve been feral but logically, it would be a waste for him to skip practice for a date that isn’t even real. “i’ll go home. we can go out some other day,” 

“no wait, yn. at least let me walk you home,” that’s completely, totally, certainly, unasked for. you don’t know whether you should be happy or sad, or going crazy and dancing in the middle of the road. “we had to cancel our date so let me make it up to you. do you mind waiting for another fifteen minutes?” 

“no.” it’s a quick response, one that leaves you surprised at yourself. you do mind waiting. it’s getting dark, you don’t know why you said you didn’t, and that too fifteen minutes. even so, you can’t bring yourself to say the truth. 

“great. i’ll be there soon,” you feel him smile through his words, reciprocating a smile back without your knowledge. “wait for me.” 

and so you do. you could’ve waited in the library or some nearby cafe or the volleyball gym itself. however, you stayed where you were : by the exit. of course, you’ve had a fair share of students and passers-by shoot you with varied looks of concern, but you successfully fooled them by pretending to be on a call, or so you think. it’s crazy how you’re here wasting time on a boy you want out of your life. you hate how you’ve only known iwaizumi for a little over four days and discovered parts of you that you never knew existed before. 

you wouldn’t say you like him, but he’s not a bad guy either. iwaizumi was never the wrong option in your eyes, honestly. he’s simply not the right one for you. there are differences that you can’t ignore, and certain things about him that you loathe. for example, how time seems to pass slowly when he’s not around. 

“yn!” finally. an involuntary smile makes its way to your lips as you hear a familiar voice approaching you from a distance. “did i make you wait for too long?” 

you chuckle, looking at iwaizumi, who’s panting for air. his hair is in a mess, the chains on his bag aren't fully done, and from looking at the bottle in his hands, you realise he didn’t even drink water after practice. “i don’t know, you tell me.” 

“i’m sorry,” your smile grows bigger at his soft apology. 

you pat his shoulders, navigating through the streets illuminated by dim street lamps. “it’s okay, i was joking.”

“by the way, i got selected for prince charming’s role.” suddenly, your smile vanishes into thin air. you don’t know why that happened. in fact, you should be happy. kyoka and iwaizumi acting together in the play, it’s what you’ve wished for the whole day. this is what you sacrificed your reputation for and yet for some reason, you find yourself forcing a smile at him. “and kyoka as cinderella.” 

 “isn’t that amazing? she’s good at what she does,” it’s not a lie and sungoon knows that. if there’s something you’ve learnt about her over the years, it’s her sheer determination. you snicker, thinking about the morning when kyoka said she was ‘scared’ to audition. looking back at it now, maybe that was just a prank to mock you, even though she would never do that. it truly is amazing, watching the prince charming and cinderella come together. “you both look really good together.” 

on other days, you would have regretted saying that. however, today you don’t have any plans on taking it back. what’s true is true, and there’s no point denying it. “i wouldn’t be surprised if you both receive the best actor and actress this year,” another forced smile, another wave of suspicion passes over iwaizumi. “you know, for the couple event at the school festival, you should participate with her. she’s really good at games, just like you. besides, she thinks you’re cool so—” 

“what about you?” the question leaves you speechless, fiddling with your fingers as you bite your inner cheeks while thinking of a response. “what do you think about me?” 

god, it’s back, the arrhythmia. 

at this point, you don’t even care about the question. you’re worried that if iwaizumi kept staring at you like this, you’d pass out. “me, uh, why does it matter?” 

“it does. it matters to me.” you can’t defend yourself anymore. iwaizumi knows his way around with words. he doesn’t talk much, but he says a lot in the way his eyes look at you. though, unable to interpret his gaze, you find yourself experiencing a funny feeling in your chest as your face heats up alarmingly. “why do you keep recommending kyoka to me? you don’t like me anymore?” 

once again, you’re taken aback. you can’t tell the truth, and you don’t want to lie. so, you simply recite the facts. “i mean, i do but, isn’t kyoka better? she has good grades, she’s pretty, she’s good in extracurricular activities, she's everything that i’m not. why do you even bother going out with someone like me?” maybe, that’s a lot of facts in one. it hurts for you to say those words, but at the end of the day, it’s true. being with iwaizumi wouldn’t change the fact that kyoka deserves him more than anyone else in the whole world. 

“she’s not you,” he gulps and for the first time, you sense fear in his voice. you don’t know why, you just do. “she gets good grades, she’s good in extracurricular activities but she’s not you. and i like you, not her. so, don’t even use the ‘someone like me’ phrase for yourself ever again.” 

before you realise, you’re already in front of your house. actually, you’ve been standing here for around ten minutes, just too lost in each other to even notice. you’re not sure if you process his words completely or correctly. all you know is that you’ve made a mistake, and now his words are stuck inside your head. he mutters a faint goodbye before proceeding to walk away, leaving you with all the uneasy feelings intoxicating your heart. 

“by the way,” he says, making you flinch a little as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt while awaiting his words. “you are beautiful.” and then all you can recall is falling for the boy who never belonged to you in the first place.

AFTER MUCH consideration, you’ve reached the conclusion that you haven’t fallen for iwaizumi. your heart is skipping beats because of arrhythmia and you’re persuading your mom to get you an appointment. 

you simply can’t fall for iwaizumi. he’s way out of your league ( see, you’re not shy to admit that ) besides, you don’t know each other. you don’t know about him but to you, iwaizumi is just an ideal classmate, or a close acquaintance, at most. moreover, here comes the best friend’s code : you can’t crush on your best friend’s crush, let alone date. you sleep with your guilt plagued mind everyday, knowing you and iwaizumi are in ‘love’ behind your best friend's back. 

“yn,” you feel a push towards your shoulders, driving you out of your thoughts to find tatsuya looking at you with concern written all over his face. “what are you thinking?” 

you shake your head. “nothing,” another lie. well, you’ve been lying a lot recently. you don’t remember creating high walls of lies around you in just a few days, with only iwaizumi knowing the way in, but again he’s looking at another lie you’ve made him believe. 

“take a break if you need to. the play will start in a few minutes,” right, the play. you’re excited to see iwaizumi and kyoka steal the show. you’re dying to see them receive best actors award for the night. you’re dying to have the annual school magazine print their picture on the front page. you’re excited for them, or so you tell yourself. 

it’s embarrassing to know that somewhere inside, you feel a little bitter about the whole crew picking iwaizumi without any recrutionary procedure. you don’t think he’s a bad actor, god, you can never. you haven’t seen him act but there’s nothing that boy can’t do. there’s a rumour spinning about how his mother was one of the best actors in Tokyo's best theatre crew. though, you don’t know how much of it is true. 

but, that’s beyond the point. you don’t need to find his family history to know that he’s talented in all aspects. it’s crazy how similar iwaizumi and kyoka are. you’re about to discard all those thoughts and continue with the procedure until you hear the commotion in the hallway. 

“we have— oh my god, yn, thank god you’re here.” matsukawa takes a breath of relief, walking towards you with a hopeful stare. “iwaizumi has sprained his leg, we need a replacement.”  

now, that isn’t the issue you want to deal with around ten minutes before the play. “what am i supposed to do about it?” 

“do you know someone who can fit the role?” he questions further.

you’d be lying if you say you’re actually thinking of someone as a replacement, for your brain is too busy worrying about iwaizumi as his injury. call it the godsent timing, because just then, your eyes fall upon the boy standing across the room. “how about hayato?” 

“what? who, me? no,” he declines with an awkward laugh. “i have terrible stage fear. i’m sure no one wants to see a prince charming with overflowing anxiety.” yeah no, he’s right. besides, kyoka will be upset to know that not only is she working with a substitute prince charming, but also, he has chronic anxiety. 

“but they want a handsome prince charming.” matsukawa isn’t half wrong either. they never held auditions for prince charming, proceeding to pick iwaizumi as if the rest of the population is a joke. hence, the audience doesn’t care about skills, but rather, the looks. “just practise your scenes. we’ll pre-record your lines and schedule the play as the closing show.” 

matsukawa turns to look at you. “yn, can you please—” 

“i’m sorry, do you know where iwaizumi is?” the question falls off your lips almost immediately, without giving him any chance to speak. you hear something along the lines of ‘school backyard’ as a response and sprint as if it’s the race for your life. 

it’s basic human decency, you presume. had it been someone else, someone you haven’t even seen, you would still run, almost tripping and bumping into people. you would still grab a bunch of bandages and relief sprays from the medkit in the staff room if this were about someone else. it’s not just iwaizumi, you tell yourself. he’s not special, especially to you. 

“geez, did you forget to walk to something?” you snicker as soon as you spot him sitting by the stairs, browsing through what looked like twitter at the slight glance you managed to steal. 

iwaizumi chuckles. “you look tired.” 

“yeah, i ran here from the other side of the school and almost tripped thrice on my way here.” you feel him snicker at the irritation in your voice while you take a look at his ankles and start dressing— by the way, you notice that he has pretty toenails; and after recalling how pretty his fingers look, it makes you wonder if he gets his mani-pedi done every week or so. “gosh, do teachers know that their favourite student can’t even walk to save his life?” 

“are you worri—”

“of course, i am!” and then a pause; iwaizumi flaunts a taunting smirk in your direction and you realise how punchable his face looks. “i mean, anyone would be worried. what if it's a fracture instead? they treat you like a national treasure, everyone will go crazy.”

you’re not wrong. 

everyone in the school, or even outside the institutional premises if possible, treasures iwaizumi more than their lives. you still remember the day minhee took the blame on her after iwaizumi accidently broke the principal’s bonsai, only for him to thank her by saying that she’s like his younger sister. long story short, there are numerous tales about people vouching for him and what not— it’s exhausting. the point is how big of a breaking news it would be when his ‘fans’ will know that iwaizumi hurt himself and won’t be attending school for the next couple of days, probably. you wonder if people will still watch the play once they know that their beloved iwaizumi isn’t the male lead anymore. 

“how long do you think it’ll take to heal?” it’s an attempt to strike a conversation and you’re glad iwaizumi took the initiative. you were starting to feel embarrassed with his ankles in your hand. 

“hm, three days? or four? maybe a weak? depends on how well you’re taking care of yourself.” 

“four days,” another pause, he tends to think before tapping on your shoulder, making you look up at him. “do you want to go on a date with me?” 

it’s like you’ve experienced culture shock. “what?”

“what? we have one due from the last time,” he smirks again, and you realise that he has been smirking a lot late. it’s beyond extents and makes you want to wipe that smirk off his face. “so, do you want to, you know, four days later?” 

it’s back, the arrhythmia. you seriously need to get yourself checked before cardiac arrest knocks on your door. oh, and you’d love to punch his good for nothing handsome face but you don’t, maybe because he’s injured. after all, how is a man supposed to live with a broken leg and nose? 

“looks like you’ve hit your head too.” you stand up, handing him the remaining bandages before storming off the venue. little did you know that your cheek started heating up the moment you looked into his eyes.

“hey, you didn’t give me an answer!” and you don’t want to either. you walk away, assuming someone would come and assist him to the main building because if you stay next to him for another second, you’ll go crazy. you absolutely hate coming to terms with your feelings but maybe, maybe you do have slight infatuation with iwaizumi; and maybe, you need to get onto it with kyoka before it’s too late. 

.

.

.

“and the last scene? i was screaming internally—” 

“can we talk?”  you interrupt kyoka, partly because your ears will bleed if you heard another word about how ecstatic acting with hayato was and partly because you actually want to talk. 

she stops, slight nervousness settling on her face. “yeah, sure.” 

“about your crush,” it’s just three words and you’re already willing to leave the conversation taking place on your own accord. “okay, all i’m saying is that i like him too. i’m sorry, please don’t be mad.” 

 and then you hear her laugh, out of everything. a part of you wants to scream because you just disclosed an important info, something you don’t even want to acknowledge yourself, and she’s laughing. moreover, it’s about the love of her life. your friendship is at stake and she’s laughing. perhaps you have a broken humour for not getting the joke. 

“why would i be mad?” you blink, wondering if you heard her right. not like you were expecting her to go off and beat you in the middle of the street at 9 pm, but there’s always a chance. “i don’t think i have a chance with him either way. so, i’ll just root for you.” 

this is why you think iwaizumi and kyoka are perfect for each other. they both are nice, literal saints, embodiments of kindness, not a vile cell inside of them. as for you, you had your sibling’s snack last evening and stepped on your mom’s foot while running away across the household. you don’t think iwaizumi has even stepped on an ant. instead, he seems the type to help them navigate or something. 

“i feel bad now that you’re giving up,” you confess, and it’s true. probably the truest truth you’ve said so far. you feel frustration pent up inside you, threatening to overflow any second. “Why did i have to fall for iwaizumi out of all the people?!” 

“wait, iwaizumi?” kyoka asks, dumbfounded, or rather, confused. 

“yes, we’re talking about iwaizumi, right?” okay, you don’t have a good feeling about the direction this conversation is heading towards. 

“no?” she clarifies and the look on your face morphs into visible panic. “i don’t like iwaizumi.” 

“what?” you yell, turning a few passing heads towards you. however, you pay them no mind. “i thought you liked iwaizumi because of the name on your eraser. i-h, iwaizumi hajime, it makes sense!”

kyoka shakes her head in denial. “no, it’s i-h, hayato ito. i like hayato and not iwaizumi!” 

an awkward pause follows. it’s a mess inside your head. you abso-fucking-lutely can’t believe the way you misunderstood the whole situation, and got yourself into a problem with seemingly no way out. you could’ve asked her about the eraser but you didn’t, proceeding to make your own assumptions and ending up in an even bigger issue. 

kyoka gasps, pulling you out of your thoughts. “oh my god, then you have a crush on iwaizumi?” that phrase doesn’t surprise you anymore. “i thought you liked tatsuya.” 

maybe, that surprises you a bit. you remember fawning over tatsuya, thinking about him all day, reading and re-reading your conversations with him. being with tatsuya has always been the highlight of your day, yet you don’t recall thinking about him ever since iwaizumi walked into your life. you didn’t seem to mind when tatsuya hung out with other people but you feel as if you have a knife by your neck whenever you spot iwaizumi with others. 

you simply don’t know what’s happening to you. “yeah, uh, surprise?” and this isn’t the time to laugh but you do, trying to lighten the burden on your shoulders. “i’m not really sure if i like iwaizumi yet.” liar, you are. you may deny it till the end of the time but you know you’re falling for iwaizumi; slowly and gradually, but you are. 

“didn’t you just say you like iwaizumi, though?” she smirks as if she can see through the lies you tell yourself. “well, whatever. at least, we don’t have to be love rivals.” yeah, maybe there’s one good thing about this whole situation. imagine having a crush on your best friend’s crush, embarrassing. but again, being in this situation built over misunderstandings is even more embarrassing, it’s eating you out. 

at this point, you don’t even care about you, or your so-called reputation if someone discloses this whole thing to the public. you don’t care about tatsuya, nor do you give two flying fucks to your seemingly dead feelings for him. you only have one thing on your mind : iwaizumi hajime. 

it isn’t about how you feel towards him. you’re still in the maybe stage. perhaps, you don’t like iwaizumi and this is just your fatigued brain coming up with bizzare conclusions. you remember falling for iwaizumi the day he walked you home. however, the next day, you were back to normal. you didn’t remember shit about butterflies and zoos. perhaps, it’s the same this time as well. so, you don’t care about your feelings, but you can’t seem to ignore how he feels towards you. 

to iwaizumi, who doesn’t have any idea about the truth lying within, every second of this is true. every moment, every step, every word, every touch, every gaze, every smile, everything. he thinks you like him. no, actually, he’s convinced that you like him. and iwaizumi being the kindest person on earth is trying his best to like you back, to know you beyond everyone else’s perception of who you are. he greets you every morning over texts and bids you good night. he asks if you’re doing okay, if you need help with assignments, if you’re down for an evening stroll— he’s giving his everything; and you always turn his advances down, never daring to cross the wall you’ve created between you and him. 

iwaizumi takes one step towards you, and you take four away from him. 

kyoka bids her goodbyes at the intersection from where you both have opposite ways home. you had planned to spend the night at her place, only for your mother to refuse, saying she has a few things she needs to talk to you about. you halt at the intersection, staring and sighing at the night sky, contemplating how mess of a life you have as if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions. 

“yn?” you close your eyes. now is not the time. tatsuya is like the last person you want to see tonight. “what are you looking at?” he chuckles, mirroring your actions as he follows your gaze and looks up at the empty night sky as well. 

“your mom,” he frowns at your reply, especially since his mom passed away when he was just seven, sending a sour stare your way. tatsuya isn’t the biggest supporter of your mom jokes, actually, for all the valid reasons. “what are you doing here? didn’t you leave for home long ago?” 

“yes but,” he pulls out what seems like your scarf from his bag, handing it out to you. “you forgot this. iwaizumi said he would’ve given it to you himself but his leg . . . you know. don’t be sad that your boyfriend couldn’t make it, though. he said he’d be at school tomorrow.” 

boyfriend, right. it feels odd hearing it from tatsuya. would he still be able to say with ease if he knew you have a crush on him, or rather, used to? overthinking apart, you’re glad tatsuya came to return your scarf or your mother wouldn’t have let you inside tonight. it doesn’t take you realise that iwaizumi and tatsuya are actually close, and they have gotten even closer over the past few days thanks to you and your crush on iwaizumi. 

maybe, tatsuya is the only one who can help you out. “can i ask you about something?” he nods, and you narrate your whole story about how you borrowed the eraser from kyoka, iwaizumi misunderstanding the setting, the person kyoka actually has a crush on and everything else, all the things except the fact that you like tatsuya— used to.  

“can you get more stupid?” that’s the first thing tatsuya comes up with after you update him on your dilemma. 

“how am i stupid when iwaizumi assumed everything in the first place?” you slap his arm playfully, earning an exaggerated response. “what should i do?” 

tatsuya scoffs. “tell him the truth.” god, no, asking him was the wrong-est move you’ve ever made. “don’t look at me like that! i hope you know you’re basically playing with that poor boy’s feelings.” that’s right. that’s the phrase; playing with his feelings. you didn’t want to accept it initially, you’re not the type to play with anyone’s feelings and what’s happening right now is a big misunderstanding. 

however, hearing it from tatsuya makes it sound even worse. not to mention, you feel awful. you try to imagine iwaizumi’s reaction after you tell him the truth. you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. what would you do if you were in his shoes? how would you react? maybe you’d end up actually hating him, scream and shout, act like a dramatic bitch, and whatnot; but iwaizumi doesn’t seem the type to do that. he doesn’t come off as someone who’d shout at you. maybe, he’ll say it’s okay, and thank you for coming clean, and move on as if nothing happened. 

the problem is, even if he’s heartbroken, he wouldn’t let you know; and you, being yourself, would believe it and stamp him as just another passerby in your life. 

“how do i bring it up to him?” you mumble, looking at tatsuya. you’re thinking of another excuse in the back of your head. something along the lines of ‘hey, i don’t think you have to force yourself to like me yada yada—’ it sounds hella generous. you don’t want to turn this in your favour. even if iwaizumi claims he’s not forcing himself to like you, you will convince him otherwise. that’s your thought process, your silly way out of this situation. 

“just be straightforward.” tatsuya interrupts your trail of thoughts. “you know, he lives just a street behind yours so if we hurry, we can make it before ten.” you take a look at your phone screen : 9:50pm. tatsuya’s hand slips into yours as he sprints towards iwaizumi’s house. you don’t know what time has to do with any of these. sure, ten at night is probably not the right timing to go visit someone but still, you have had your friends stand out of your window at two in the morning for impromptu midnight escapades. 

maybe, iwaizumi is one of those ‘good boys’ who goes to bed at ten sharp, without excuses. to be honest, it sounds very iwaizumi-like. dinner at seven, studies following, and then to bed at ten, seems like something the one and only iwaizumi hajime would do. 

before you realise, you find yourself standing in front of what is supposed to be iwaizumi’s house. it’s nice, beautiful, even. the garden is well maintained and you wonder if he’s into gardening. tatsuya shoots a call to iwaizumi, who peeks down at the street through his window just a few seconds later, waving at you before disappearing behind the grey curtains. 

it’s cute, you think, and then decide that you’re crazy. no way, you just called iwaizumi hajime cute. sure, you find him a bit interesting but not like you have a passionate crush on him. you can be one of those fans, nothing more. 

a girl opens the door and you recall that she could be his sister. he talks about her every time you both complain about siblings. iwaizumi helps himself down the stairs, using wall as support while his sister aids him shortly. you wonder if this is a wrong time to meet him. his ankle doesn’t look bad, not like you can actually see it, but back at school, he wasn’t even able to move it. 

“how’s your leg?” the question falls off your lips instinctively, without giving him or tatsuya, a chance to even breath in each other’s direction. 

iwaizumi smiles, looking down at his ankles before setting his eyes back on you. “quite better.” involuntarily, you reciprocate his smile, nodding before waving at his sister as well, who excuses herself shortly. “would you like to come in?” 

“no, actually,” tatsuya cuts in, giving you a look of assurance. “we want to talk about something. she wants to, actually.” and tatsuya steps aside, leaving you and iwaizumi alone to talk everything out and clear all the misunderstandings. 

“so, the eraser,” you begin, hesitatingly, looking at tatsuya who shoots you thumbs up from a distance. “it actually belongs to kyoka. i borrowed it for a test since i didn’t bring mine. the name too, the ih on it stands for hayato ito, and not iwaizumi hajime.” you want to dig a hole and die because first, this is so embarrassing. iwaizumi looks at you unfazed as if he’s too stunned to speak; and second, your voice practically dies towards the end of your sentence, making it more terrible than it already is. 

iwaizumi doesn’t speak for next thirty seconds. he simply looks at you, blinking occasionally, making you wonder if your confession traumatised him so much that he lost his verbal abilities. you won’t blame him. this whole thing is hurtful enough to give anyone a trauma. furthermore, as you’re about to speak more, he lets out a dry chuckle, almost convincing you that he has gone crazy. “that’s it?” 

that’s it? that’s it? that’s all he has to say? you’re about to lose your mind. 

“i mean, i’m sorry for not bringing it up earlier,” you kind of want to scream in the middle of the road because you went through all this trouble, beating your mental health to death, only for him to chuckle and say that’s it? then you ponder if it’s sarcasm, or if iwaizumi wants a written apology from you, one that you will post on the school's forum and recite in front of the whole school at morning assembly. you’re marginally close from ripping your hair out, strand by strand. 

“it’s okay. you couldn’t tell me before because i took it so seriously. it’s my fault for jumping to conclusions.” you’re almost in tears once again. had it been someone else, or let alone someone else, had it been you in his shoes, you would’ve made a scene; and iwaizumi is here, in front of you, taking the blame for something that isn’t his fault in the first place. 

“no, iwa—” 

“i said it’s okay. i’m glad you brought it up. you don’t have to worry about it anymore.” he cuts you off, reassuring you again and again. all this time, you’ve been thinking about yourself, never really considering him and when you finally give him a chance to call you out, he turns the situation in your favour. “honestly, i’m relieved.” 

“iwaizumi, what are you doing outside?” an unfamiliar voice breaks in before you could respond to his words. you run your eyes around, who iwaizumi seems to have forgotten about, only to realise he has already left. turns out, the voice belonged to iwaizumi’s mother and godbless, she’s just as pretty as him, or even more. “and you should invite your friend inside. it’s cold out here.” 

“yn’s not a friend. they’re more of a,” ain’t no way. if iwaizumi’s planning to say what you’re thinking then there’s no way he hasn’t gone crazy. “classmate. they were about to leave.” his mother nods, smiling at you as she walks inside, leaving you and iwaizumi basking in silence. suddenly, all the words inside your mouth die down, leaving a taste of speechlessness as you mutter a silent goodbye to him. 

“you good? why do you look pale all of a sudden?” iwaizumi asks, stepping forward to check your temperature, only for you to step back as an empty frown settles on his face. 

“i know i lied but i always thought we were at least friends,” you say it with a chuckle, having iwaizumi retreat his hand as you turn around, proceeding on your way back home. “take care of yourself.” 

it’s funny because all this time, you’ve been stepping away from iwaizumi, never letting him approach you, taking multiple steps away from him; but just watching him step away from you feels like the life inside you has been knocked out. but it’s fine, this is what you’ve wanted. 

and just like that, you and iwaizumi get all the way back to step one, being what you initially were : classmates.

YOUR DAYS without iwaizumi have been like a monochrome film. you haven’t talked to him after that night, neither did he try to strike a conversation. the homeroom teacher changed the seating arrangement, with you and iwaizumi ending up on opposite corners of the classroom. it was a perfect excuse to not being able to talk; but now, four days later, you’re sitting on the last seat, watching iwaizumi as he jots down notes from the board. you notice the way he spins the pen between his fingers as he re-reads what he wrote, or the way frantically flips to the very last page and do some calculations. you don’t know when you started noticing so much about him. you find him in the hallways, standing with his friends and still isolated, you realise something must be wrong. maybe his dog is sick, maybe he didn’t score well, maybe this, maybe that— and your head would be full of iwaizumi all over again.  

“you’re zoning out again,” kyoka mutters, poking your arms with her pen. one good thing about the new seating arrangement is that kyoka is your deskmate, and you honestly need her next to you for the next few months, at least. “is it iwaizumi again?” 

and you need her because she always seems to know what you’re thinking. you don’t even need to say a word, or wear an expression. all she needs is just one look at you and that’ll lead her to your mind. you don’t respond to her question; you choose not to, and the two of you get back to writing once the teacher looks in your direction with a heavy gaze. 

“you never told me what happened that day,” you pause again, contemplating your choices. you don’t know why you never told her. you don’t hide anything from her unless it’s your credit card number, but jokes apart, you don’t know what was stopping you from telling her the truth all this time. 

“i told him everything.” you mumble, it’s more like a whisper, maybe even quieter. “the whole misunderstanding, and— yeah. everything. we haven’t talked since then.” 

you feel her nod with a soft hum. “and you miss him?” 

“no.” a pause. kyoka’s eyes travel to you at your quick reply while yours stay fixed on your notebook before you start writing again. “i don’t.” 

the truth is, you don’t know the answer to that question. do you miss him? do you not? it’s a question for later. you don’t know who you miss— the iwaizumi that was your friend, or the part of him that used to be your boyfriend. honestly, you wish he’d talk to you, like he used to. like the way you wouldn’t text him one day and he’d spam you with missed calls, like the way he’d pester you at school asking why you didn’t respond to his texts. you want him to reach you out again because you can’t do it now that he knows the truth; and if he chose that he’s better off without you, you’re no one to intervene. 

till then, you’ll wait, because that’s all you can do. 

“you’re lyin—”

you cut her off. “i’m not.”  

“yn—”

“we’re in class, kyoka. get back to writing.”

“no— yn  look at me.” and you do as silence intoxicates the air between the two of you. there’s a knowing glint in her eyes, as if she has already known the truth and is asking for your confirmation, waiting to hear it from your mouth. she takes a deep breath, looking at you with stern eyes. “do you like iwaizumi?” 

you don’t know the answer to that question either. falling for someone is complicated. you don’t know when exactly you start falling, or when you have fallen all the way in and too deep to return, or when you start falling beyond the rock bottom. you don’t know whether you’re falling for iwaizumi or not. you like being with him, really, and you’ve learnt to tolerate his all perfect attitude that used to irritate you initially. you find yourself thinking about the things the two of you would’ve done if you ever went on that date, or the time when you almost asked him to teach you volleyball even though you have a single athletic bone in your body.

when it comes to him, you think about things you’ve never thought about. you listen to him as if he’s a synchrony of a melody and melancholy. with him, you do things you would’ve never done otherwise. you find yourself breaking your own rules for him, but are you falling for him— that’s a question you don’t know the answer to. you don’t know how to find an answer to that one.  

kyoka doesn’t wait for your response. she probably knows it anyway. it’s almost as if she’s waiting for you to catch up to your feelings. but it doesn’t make sense to you. even if you give her an answer, even if you say that you like him, it wouldn’t change how you feel about him. you can tell the world that you love iwaizumi hajime but it wouldn’t change a thing about your feelings for him, because saying as always been easier than actually coming in terms with your words, and you know you’re lost in your way towards or away from iwaizumi, and no words of saccharine confessions could ever change that. 

the bells, lesson ends, and you stay in the class until all the students walk out. it’s break and you haven’t had an appetite ever since you woke up this morning. just as expected, kyoka leaves to see hayato ito, they’ve gotten closer over the last few days and you’re expecting a dating announcement from her soon. she’s like that, kyoka likes to show off, but in a good way. when you win an award, she posts your picture with the caption ‘everyone be jealous because i’m yn’s best friend and you’re not,’— it’s adorable, and then you never see the end of it because she never stops telling everyone how she’s your best friend, your closest friend, and the friend who’d always be the most suitable candidate for your lover because no one knows you better than kyoka; and the last part is very much a joke, by the way. 

when sitting alone in the classroom doesn’t help you calm down your racing mind, you make your way towards the terrace. for some reason, standing under the vast skyline brings you to ease. although, coming to the school terrace is prohibited and you’ve already received multiple detentions for it, you don’t mind spending another day cleaning the classroom if it means you can spend a few minutes at the terrace everyday. however, today turns out to be different. you wanted to spend the whole break on the terrace, now you don’t, because you see the one person you’ve been avoiding for four days— iwaizumi hajime.  

your first thought is to leave, to pretend that you never saw him standing there; but then you realise— you never did anything wrong. well, except the whole misunderstanding part, you never did anything wrong. you owned up to your mistakes, you’ve apologised and iwaizumi even accepted it. in any case, it’s his fault because he considers you a classmate and nothing more, even after everything you’ve been through. so, you walk to your usual spot, feeling iwaizumi’s eyes following you as you exhibit your walk of pride. you kind of want to run away but it’s too late now. 

a minute passes, and then another, followed by another and you’re starting to think this was a bad decision. you should’ve left when you had the chance because silence is even more suffocating. and the fact that both of you are socially incompetent isn’t helping your case. but someone has to break the ice and soon enough, you realise that in this situation, you have to take the lead. 

“um, you don’t have practice today?” you ask, fingers crossed that he doesn’t find you weird or shameless for showing up after four days and acting as if nothing’s wrong. 

“wednesdays are off,” right, tatsuya told you once. another trail of silence follows. you don’t know what to say and judging from his face, it seems like he doesn’t know either. you won’t like, you have your questions and you believe he does too, but you don’t know where to start. “i’m sorry about that day.” 

iwaizumi blurts out, leaving you surprised. you feel your heart beat relentlessly, knowing that he’s finally addressing the topic you’ve been running away for days now. “i haven’t told my mother that i’m dating and introducing you as my partner would’ve been, i don’t know, too early? since we’re still in the trial stage. and, you’re definitely more than a friend so,” you notice the soft tint of red climb up his cheeks as your lips curl into a smile. you couldn’t help but find it cute, one doesn’t always get to see iwaizumi hajime struggling with his words. “just— you get it, right? i would’ve told this to you that day but you had already left.”  

and once again, his words leave you speechless, sending your heart in a spiral and giving you butterflies. you think it’s one of his charms. he has a way with words, a luxury you never had. “why didn’t you tell me the next day, or the day after that, or just one of these days?” 

“i figured you were mad so i kinda wanted to do something for you,” there's a slight hesitation in his voice. you don’t know where it comes from. you notice the way he scratches his nape, avoiding your eyes actively while letting those words fall off his lips. you wouldn’t say you actually know him, but you think you’re a step closer to knowing the iwaizumi hajime behind the notion of a straight-A student that the school has created. 

you think you can talk to him now without worrying about the past misunderstandings. “iwaizumi, do you even know what i like?” 

he takes a second to think. “uh, mint chocolate?”

“no way, i hate mint chocolate—” and from that point on, it’s just a cycle of whats and hows. iwaizumi says that tatsuya told him you like mint chocolate. he gasps in disbelief when he realises that tatsuya had lied. you are so busy laughing about the whole situation that you don’t notice the way iwaizumi’s eyes rest upon you. you fail to notice the way his lips curl up as your honey dripping laughter fills the air around, and he’s glad because iwaizumi believes that he’s absolutely smitten, and there’s no way you can know unless he tells you himself. 

there’s not a moment when iwaizumi isn’t looking at you. all the four days when you weren’t in contact with each other, he looked through your texts and the pictures that you had taken in his phone just because his camera is amazing. he steals glances at you in class when you aren’t looking. iwaizumi doodles your face at the back of his notebook and one can see your name written all over the last few pages, along with ways to apologise. iwaizumi can’t stop looking at you because you’re just too pretty that nothing else pleases his eyes. 

so when you finally stop laughing, assuring him that you’d tell tatsuya to not lie to him about your likes and dislikes ever again, iwaizumi realises that he doesn’t ever want to stop looking at you. he wants you to be there every day, next to him, and he wants to be able to admire your face for all the days to come.

“yn, would you like to go on a date with me?” he proposes, and everything goes silent when you look at him with your eyes wide open, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. “we can get to know each other better.” 

at that moment, you realise that you don’t know much about iwaizumi either. you know him as the smart and talented guy, or someone who plays for the school volleyball team, or as someone so good at art that he can apply for international competitions if he wanted to. even after being his ‘girlfriend’ or something along those lines, you learn that you don’t know him any better than everyone else. 

“yes.” you reply, because you discern that perhaps, you’re a step closer to the real iwaizumi, even though you may be a hundred miles apart. you realise that iwaizumi hajime is enchanting and it’s a luxury to know the iwaizumi beyond the limits that apply to everyone else but you. 

.

.

.

the rest of your day goes by in a blink. you don’t realise when time passed and now, you’re sitting in for the last lesson of the day. the iwaizumi effect, you may call it, because when iwaizumi is around, time seems to go faster and when he’s not, the world stops and everything makes you feel like you’re running out of breath. 

"you look happy," kyoka comments but you pay her words no mind. instead, your eyes are fixed on iwaizumi, and you shoot him a sweet smile when he turns out to face the student sitting behind him, getting one as a response as well. just then, you realise that iwaizumi has a really cute smile. you never really noticed it until now, and you don't want him to lose that smile ever again. 

he points his fingers towards your textbook, gesturing you to focus on your lesson, and you do the same until he turns away from you, scribbling on his notebook before shipping towards you once again, holding it upright for you to decipher the words, which continue to remain a secret between iwaizumi and the pages of his notebook since they weren't clear enough for you to read. 

you don't remember the last time you felt this way. all these unspeakable feelings that you're unable to identify, it wasn't until iwaizumi came into your life that you started thinking about anything along the lines of romance. you pull out your phone, texting him something before beckoning him to check his phone, and just then kyoka's voice interrupts your main character moment. 

"yn— geez, i've called your name like thrice already!" she slaps your shoulder playfully, making you snicker in response. 

you shoot her an annoyed expression. "what?"

"well, i wanted to ask about chemistry but when the fuck did this happen like—" and then he paused, looking around before leaning closer, speaking with a low voice. "didn't you and iwaizumi fight?"

"we talked it out," she deadpans, because that simply isn't enough as an answer for the way you've been asking for the past four days. "we're all good now, i suppose." you feel her looking at you in disbelief while the teacher dismisses the class, and you know she’s probably thinking about how you should’ve sorted it out four days ago if talking was all that you both needed to get back to how you used to be. 

but you like to think that she doesn’t understand. kyoka has been in more relationships than you and she understands its aspects better than anyone else that you’ve known. but she has never been in your shoes. she didn’t find herself getting over her crush in just a few days and started getting butterflies she didn’t like until weeks ago. she doesn’t get butterflies when she thinks about this one person and gets losts wondering if she actually likes him or if she’s only in love with the idea of him. she doesn’t go on dates with the person and she isn’t spending nights and days wondering if they’re dating or if they’re just friends. she has never been in your shoes, and you have never experienced these feelings before iwaizumi. 

"you're in love with him." she snickers, slinging her bag up her shoulders while you pack your belongings, completely overlooking iwaizumi who’s standing by the door, waiting for you. 

"i'm not in love with him," you’re quick to decline, you can’t help but smile at the thought of it. were you in love with iwaizumi? you don’t know. maybe it’s not love, because love is a heavy word. it’s not just something you can say out of the blues. you don’t think you’re in love with iwaizumi, yet. 

she rolls her eyes at your stance of denial. “you were literally flirting with him, yn.” 

“we were talking, kyoka.” and she shakes her head, surrendering to your thought process because kyoka knows she can never understand your logic. “by the way, i’m walking home with iwaizumi so you can leave.” 

all you notice is the way she nods, mumbling what you think was ‘and you say you aren’t in love with him,’ before walking out of the class. you decide not to refute her words— it was pointless. you can only decline something to a point and after that, you have to fall for acceptance. maybe that’s why you feel like you wouldn’t mind it anymore if someone asks you whether you’re in love with iwaizumi, because you do feel some type of way about him. you don’t know if it’s love— god— you don’t even know if you like him, but you know what you want him near you. you’ve spent four days without iwaizumi and you sure you wouldn’t want to go through that ever again. all you know is that you like being with iwaizumi, and you hope that rest will fall into place over time. you’ve spent weeks in a no-label relationship with him, not knowing what the two of you are, and you don’t mind spending the next few weeks lost and wondering about what you both can be. 

you’re so busy drowning in the ocean of your thoughts that you fail to notice when iwaizumi left the classroom. you’re sure you saw him around when kyoka was still in the classroom. you rush downstairs, assuming that he must be waiting by the exit. 

“yn,” you stop at the sound of your name resonating through the hallway, noticing a girl from junior year if you recall correctly, running in your direction. “i heard you and iwaizumi broke up. is it true?” 

and yet again, you find yourself wondering how to answer that question. did you break up? you don’t think so, because you weren’t dating him in the first place; but again, everyone in the school believes that you’ve been dating him and iwaizumi never tried to decline those baseless assumptions. however, her question is what you’re worried about the most. just thinking about what follows after pushes your heart towards the edge. you can’t help but picture them together, her and iwaizumi, and quite frankly, they’d make a good pair. are you ready to see them together? not that you know; but, are you ready for iwaizumi to leave you for someone else? you don’t think you can imagine that, or even want to think about it. 

“er— where did you hear that from?” you question back in an attempt to avoid answering the question. on the other hand, you couldn’t help but think how the first time, iwaizumi was last and this time, it’s you who’s making him wait. 

“a few seniors were talking about it,” she replies, getting impatient as seconds pass. “just tell me, are you still dating him or not?” 

“they are,” that’s iwaizumi, and you turn around to face him, taking a sigh of relief since iwaizumi is congenitally better at answering tricky questions than you. “i don’t know who told you that we broke up, but it’s not true. we’re still dating, and i don’t plan to break up soon.” 

you don’t remember since you’ve started feeling nervous around him. maybe it was after the night he walked you home, or the night you told him everything; or maybe you’ve always been nervous around him, just failing to notice it because you were too busy running away from him. but you know it now— you’re nervous around him. iwaizumi makes you nervous, and it’s only because he’s too good at pretending. he puts his hand around your shoulder to make her think how much he loves you, he talks about you to his friends to put on a show about your relationship. iwaizumi is too good at pretending, and you’re afraid that you’re falling for his empty words of admiration. 

when she left after offering an apology, in that moment, you look at iwaizumi and it suddenly occurs to you how beautiful his eyes are. you don’t think you’ve ever been in such close vicinity with him, and now that you’re standing next to him with his arms around your shoulders, you feel like it’s the safest place to be in. his words felt like intricately written verses of poetry and you forgot how to look away from him. you notice iwaizumi’s eyes settle on you and you don’t turn away, you can’t, because you feel as if your feet have forgotten how to walk. he asks you why you have that look on your face, as though a shadow has fallen across its sun-drenched landscape, heavy with premonition, you tell yourself that it’s just a phase. 

but then iwaizumi flicks your forehead, sliding his hands into yours, leading you towards the exit— a smile makes its way to your lips. it’s amusing; the second you tried to tell yourself that you weren’t in love was the moment you realised you were, and you’ve always been. 

.

.

.

“here, your ice cream.” iwaizumi holds out his hand towards you, waiting for you to take it from your hand. and then a second passes, followed by a couple more; then he calls your name, only to receive silence in return. you don’t respond until he grabs your hand, passing you the ice-cream cone himself before chuckling at your antics. “you zone out a lot, don’t you?” 

“why did you lie?” you ask, taking the cone from his hand, although your favourite ice cream didn’t look appetising anymore. “you could’ve told her that we’re not dating.”

“do you want me to tell that to her?" you don’t know what made him ask that question, but little do you know that somewhere inside, you don’t want this rumour to come to an end. 

you’ve lost him one and you know you want to lose him again. truthfully, the four days without iwaizumi were the hardest for you. your hand felt emptier than before you had met him— your heart felt heavier. you kept denying your feelings because you were scared, and even now, you feel as if you’re hanging by the edge of a cliff. you didn’t know how important he became to you until you watched him stray further, but now you do; at least a part of you does. in some strange mysterious way, you knew there was something special about him the day iwaizumi asked you on a date for a very first time. in his eyes, you caught a glimpse of yourself. despite being polar opposites, you noticed the minor similarities between him and you. there were times when you wished to go back to the day where he stood next to you, stunned by your confession, and you’d tell him the truth instead of lying and running away like the coward you are. 

but then, there are days when you find yourself thanking the higher deities for putting you and iwaizumi on the same path, though it was supported by lies and misunderstandings. you don’t think you would’ve ever tried to enter iwaizumi’s world if none of this would’ve happened, neither would you have let him enter yours. you want to run away, wipe the slate clean, start all over again and see where it would take you. 

because you aren’t sure what you’re doing. you don’t know anything about love. you find it scary, you think you’re too young to claim the word ‘love’ for the way you feel towards iwaizumi. you don’t know what love is, but if it means jumping in an endless pit, eyes closed, and waiting for iwaizumi to catch you, then you don’t ever want to climb back up.

"iwaizumi," his eyes travel to yours, a gaze that throws your heart in an endless spiral. "i know the eraser was a misunderstanding but, i think i actually like you."

you look at him, he looks at you, a few seconds pass and when he doesn’t reply, you feel regret conquer your mind. maybe, expecting a positive response is far-fetched. if you put yourself in his shoes, you wouldn't like him back either. liking him wouldn’t even be an option, you don’t know if you’d be able to trust him all over again. so, if you can’t imagine yourself falling for someone who has done everything that you did to iwaizumi, then how can you expect iwaizumi to do the same? 

there are moments when you think iwaizumi hajime is too good for you, and maybe, this is one of those. he’s too honest, too good to be true, he doesn’t know how to cut people out of his life; and probably that’s why, he continues to be with you because he doesn’t want to break your heart. it's an unwanted pity, albeit one that you’re grateful for, perhaps. 

“just reject me already. you don’t need to waste your time,” you say, because iwaizumi hajime being the kind soul he is, isn’t capable of saying no. so, you decide to create distances from your end, hoping he wouldn’t chase you this time ‘round. 

iwaizumi still doesn’t say a word. he simply looks at you, perhaps trying to read your expression, or maybe thinking of ways to say no; but it’s what you think he’s doing. you were never able to perceive what actually goes inside his head. maybe that’s why, when he steps closer to you, you forget how to breathe. "would you like to date me?"

and his question takes you out, really. iwaizumi? you? dating? you like the sound of that, but if you put all the events together, no one of it makes sense. "did you hit your head again?"

"you're being rude." he frowns. 

"and i think you're making fun of me."

"i'm not," iwaizumi sighs and that’s the first time you sense annoyance in his words. you’ve never seen him annoyed or irritated, not as much as he looks right now, at you. "i don’t know why you’re acting like you committed a crime. it was a misunderstanding, a mistake, and we solved it. we both were at fault and we apologised, that’s it. leave it be. i’ll say this again; i like you, yn, and i don’t care what happened in the past. would you like to go on a date with me?"

this time, you make silence reign the air around the two of you. once again, you don’t know what to say. are you supposed to nod? say yes? run away? or are you supposed to kiss him like those actors do in the movies? you’d never know.

“i’ll take that as a yes.” turns out he’s in a silly, goofy mood, because iwaizumi is acting as if he didn’t just present a heart-fluttering confession. well, everything he does flutters your heart, but hearing him say those words, it made you fall for him all over again; and you’d have to agree that iwaizumi hajime looks really hot when he’s annoyed. “where do you want to go for our date?” 

“movie on saturday?” you suggest. “or whatever you want, actually.” 

“not saturday. me and kyoka are planning to meet to wrap up the council work.” ah, kyoka. you don’t know the last time you envied her, maybe never until this moment. it’s new, really, because you’re being envious of your best friend just because your potential boyfriend is picking her over your date; and it’s equally illogical because you know kyoka likes someone else. “can i come over tomorrow?” 

“what? no. it hasn’t even been a minute since we started dating,” truthfully, you’re not exactly against the thought of iwaizumi coming over to your place. it sounds wonderful, actually, but you have a pride to maintain. “besides, i didn’t say yes, yet.” 

“that’s why, i’ll be coming over tomorrow, to ask you out again.” he says, looking at you as if you are his whole world. “and i hope you say yes.” this is why you think you hate iwaizumi more than you like him. he has his way with words, and knows what to say, and each and every sentence leaves you speechless, unable to process your own thoughts. you hate how he excels in all the fields because just when you thought you could maybe something equally heart-fluttering, iwaizumi leans in closer, planting a soft kiss on your cheeks before intertwining his hands in yours, kissing the back of your palm. “please, say yes.”

and you think you will, because you don’t know what it means to like someone, but it feels like that for you. like you and iwaizumi exist in a time before love— as though you were waiting for the word to catch up to the feeling.

THE THOUGHT of dating iwaizumi is ambiguous. 

you aren’t even close to it. iwaizumi said he would ask you out again, but you decided to assist him and kyoka in their council work, which was rescheduled on the day you and iwaizumi were supposed to have your ‘date.’ you didn’t plan to spend the day with him, honestly. despite his multiple requests to come over to his place with kyoka, you refused to agree until ten minutes before they planned to meet. you don’t know what convinced you to agree. perhaps, it’s the stagnant picture of the two of them in your head, maybe it’s the fact that you had nothing to do and going over to iwaizumi seemed better than sleeping throughout the noon. 

after arriving at his place, you realised that it was jealousy that drove you to his house; or rather, an utter sense of diffidence that plagued your mind. something about watching kyoka and iwaizumi work together pulled you away from the thought that you and iwaizumi can be something more than friends. however, despite being aware of iwaizumi’s feelings for you, you can’t help but believe in the possibility of him and kyoka. 

“how’s council work going?” you ask as the two of you stroll down to your house since iwaizumi insisted on walking you back even though you said it wasn’t necessary. these are the times when you think he pays you a lot more attention than necessary, more than you deserve, even. you notice the way your steps are in sync before he stops to take a look at a stray cat sneaking into someone’s garden, and the next step he takes doesn’t match yours anymore. 

“it’s good.” he replies, and although you can’t see his face now that he’s walking a step in front of you, you could hear the smile in his voice. “kyoka is good at what she does. i’m assuming we can wrap it up by tomorrow.” 

your grasp around his hand tightens, fingers interlaced and yet you could feel the distance in between. his words leave a sour taste in your mouth. however, in any case, you can't deny how capable your friend is. it’s only normal for people to compliment her, and in iwaizumi’s case, you presume that he can relate after meeting someone on the same spectrum as him. “right, she’s efficient.”

“i thought she would be, i don’t know, cold? she looks indifferent but is actually really fun to—” and you stop, causing him to do the same as he halts in the middle of his sentence, lowering his head to get a better look at your expression. “is something wrong?” 

“no?,” you shoot him a forced smile. “i’m just thinking how you two would make a good couple,” you say, because dating iwaizumi is ambiguous. it’s almost as if every second with him reminds you that you don’t belong here.

“you’re back at this again,” there’s annoyance laced in his voice and you wonder if your actions have finally broken his shell. after all, there’s only so much a person can put up against your sheer persistence. “i don’t care about kyoka, or how good or bad we look together. i like you—”  

“why?” your voice shoots up a few octaves, loud enough to turn a few heads in your direction as the passersby assume it to be just another lover’s quarrel. “iwaizumi, everything reminds me of how different we are. i try to not overthink but then i look at you and kyoka and realise how i came between the two of you.” 

you see everything come down falling. it feels nice, for some reason. now that he’s in front of you, standing with an expression that ranges between anger and disappointment while you’re finally able to voice your thoughts, you don’t feel like this is bad enough. after all, communication is the key, and unsaid words only give rise to unwanted strains in a relationship. even though you knew nothing could be made out of whatever you and iwaizumi have, you want to end it on a good note for the sake of both of you. 

for the next few minutes, you talked and he listened. you aren’t sure if you were making sense. you didn’t know if you were processing your own words, it all sounded like an information dump— just like when you’re assigned a task and when asked about it, your supervisor drops each and every thing about it on you like an explosive, and you’re left to find the starting point. looking at his face, you discern that iwaizumi must be feeling the same way. 

it pains you to see him like this— limbs on side as if they’re lifeless, an ocean of dejection in his eyes; as if the words are on the tip of his tongue but he doesn’t know what to say, you can see it on his face. you wish you didn’t have to see him like this, not when you are the reason behind the lack of delight on his face. you know you should’ve stopped this earlier, you wish you could, and you were a step away from having him out of your life, but he looks at you once and you gravitate towards him like a moon does to its planet.   

“yn, listen to me.” he cups your face in his hands, conquering your line of sight to the point he’s the only thing you could see. however, your vision had blurred from the tears dwelling in your eyes. “i like you. i wouldn’t even have talked to her if it wasn’t for the student council—”

“i don’t deserve you,” another interjection, another pang to his heart, your voice cracks— another line of conversation.  

“when you say that, it makes me want to show you how much you deserve me and the other things you wish,” he holds your face even closer, as if you’re going to disappear the next moment. 

it’s as if you both were cursed or just plain unlucky. you have your ideas about love, and he has his; and as much as you tried, none of you could make it work. you don’t think it’s the lack of feeling or intention that’s tearing you both apart— it’s one small seed of doubt planted in your head, and it’s doing its job. you brush his hands off your face, looking him in the eyes for one last time. “let’s stop,” 

.

.

.

“you look as if the life inside of you has been sucked out, and it’s only nine,” kyoka comments as soon as the class is dismissed. you don’t pay attention to her words, letting a sigh roll off your lips to suffice as a response. “fight with iwaizumi?” 

“no,” it’s a quick response and you don’t care if she believes you or not, even though the chances are that she most likely doesn’t. as much as you wish you could talk to her, you don’t think you can bring yourself to tell her your concerns regarding her and iwaizumi. having her by your side was a little nicer than being alone, but you decide to push her away this once, now that your worries can potentially cost you an invaluable friendship. 

her gaze rests upon you for a brief second before she shakes her head in hopelessness— disappointment, at most— mumbling a faint ‘whatever’ which is carried away by the winds as soon as the word escapes his mouth. you don’t care, if you put it quite frankly. the lingering whispers of students in the hallways that talk about you and iwaizumi, or how they haven’t seen you with him for over a week now, don’t bother you anymore. you’ve learnt to ignore then and this time, the stars seemed to have aligned in your favour. 

iwaizumi had to leave for inter-prefectural volleyball league the day you turned him down, albeit indirectly. you wanted to see him— still want to— and you almost strolled down to his place when he returned, which was two days prior from today. you’ve learnt to hold yourself back, accepting that there’s no point aiming for something out of your reach. you and iwaizumi are like stars in the distant sky. they attract, and when they get closer than they should’ve, it results in an explosion, consequently destroying everything within the close radius. even after iwaizumi returned to school, you’ve held yourself away from him, avoiding places he frequently visits. you even stopped going to the terrace in case he looks for you there. 

you take a step away from iwaizumi and you notice iwaizumi’s world is beautiful as always; with or without you, it doesn’t matter. 

“kyoka, what do you think of iwaizumi?” it’s an impromptu question, one that leaves her staring at you with perplexed eyes; but you’re too lost in your thoughts to even reconsider your words. 

kyoka furrows her eyebrows and you wonder if she got a hint of what’s going inside your head. it wouldn’t be surprising if she does, honestly. kyoka has a good perception, and perhaps that’s the only reason why you’ve been avoiding her eyes for almost a week now. “and why are you asking that?” 

“just answer the question.”  

“i think of him . . . as your boyfriend.” the hint of playfulness is evident in her words, yet her eyes tell you otherwise.   

“can you be serious for one second?” you counter with annoyance as you shut your notebook close, putting the pens back in your pencil case. after the argument with iwaizumi, hearing someone address him as your boyfriend puts you off. not that the two of you ever dated, but the thought of it was good while it lasted.

“serious about what, iwaizumi?” she chuckles and at this point, you’re convinced that she’s using your dilemma as a way of comedic relief. “yn, i don’t even think about him unless it’s regarding council stuff.” 

perhaps, the last part is supposed to comfort you, though it mingles with the chatters and soon enough, slips out of your mind as if you never heard it. timing is irrelevant for two people who are meant for each other, that is what you once believed. but you and iwaizumi met during a time when you were such a mess, and had so much to figure out. you were busy getting a hold of your life while living a lie you told to save your friend, although it got you entangled deeper in the mess; and now just days later iwaizumi is claiming to have fallen for you. it sounds euphoric, but how could you believe it when everything around you reminds you of the possibility that you and iwaizumi were, maybe, always meant to meet, yet not meant to be? 

“by the way, tell him i won’t be able to make it tomorrow since i’m busy,” kyoka’s voice pull your out of your thoughts. 

a heavy feeling settles inside of you. “make it to where—” 

“just tell him, he knows,” she runs out of the class as she always does, probably to hayato’s class because lately, her priorities have shifted towards the senior in question, now that they’ve gotten closer after the play. however, you don’t fail to notice how both iwaizumi and kyoka have been keeping things from you, like just now. you don’t pay it no mind, you really try to, but a part of your mind comes up with the chances that they could’ve been meeting without your knowledge. 

you find yourself on the way to the terrace once again, after avoiding the location like a plague for days on repeat now. turns out, you couldn’t keep yourself away from it, for that’s the only place you feel like you’ll be able to breathe in when every other corner feels suffocating. a part of the reasons for your ventures to the rooftop is to get rid of all the baseless thoughts you’ve been coming up with. putting everything aside, doubting your best friend is the last thing you want to do. you don’t want to believe them, but you don’t have to hold onto a false hope either. 

somewhere inside the back of your mind, you’re reminded to get back to class, though you don’t pay attention to that voice. you don’t want to go back inside the four walls and sit with the two people who are the reason behind all your worries, albeit you feel guilty for thinking of them this way. to put it in better words, you wouldn’t be able to focus either, for your mind is too busy thinking about everything else. and so, you let the soft winds soothe your mind as you lean against the railing, the cold metal against your cheeks as you close your eyes in an attempt to think about anything but the boy you wish to hear from the most at the moment. 

“i looked for you all ‘round the school, y’know?” iwaizumi’s voice pop up from the entrance, making you flinch at his sudden arrival. it frightens you how you didn’t hear his footsteps approaching as you always do. however, those feelings wash away with the waves of cold breeze brushing against your nape, sending shivers down your spine. 

it reminds you of the day you had confessed to him, and you had dragged him to the rooftop, same location in the exact same weather, where he had rejected you before frankly asking you to give him a chance at getting to know you better. the day, all you could think about were the points about how iwaizumi is so likeably unlikeable. you had always thought of him as a foreign creation, something made so intricately with extreme focus so as to avoid all chances of faults and mistakes. iwaizumi, to you, wasn’t someone who you despised because of your differences or rather, how perfect he is. dislike would be a strong word to summarise the emotions you initially had towards him, indifference would be a better term. 

albeit, you find it humorous how your feelings towards the said boy have changed over the span of just a few weeks. you wouldn’t say it’s because you ‘fell’ for iwaizumi, but rather because you got a chance to look at him without filters. it’s as if you got a chance to meet him backstage, away from all the roles he has to play about being an ideal student and an ideal child for every parent out there. yeah, maybe his kindness and captivating personality played a role in changing your opinions towards him but, most of it has been because you were able to notice the puddles of similarities between him and above, above the impression that iwaizumi and you belonged to different worlds. 

“if you’ve noticed, i always come to the rooftop if i don’t feel well,” you mumble above the sound of wind howling around with slight disappointment evident in your voice. perhaps, after all this time, you had at least expected him to look for you on the rooftop everyday, knowing that the only place you’d ever choose to hide yourself is under the vast expanse of sky, in front of the cityscape. 

“is that your test paper?” he asks, pointing his index finger towards your hand, and that’s the moment you realise you’ve been holding onto it for a while now. iwaizumi takes it from your hand with slight hesitation in his actions as if he’s taking all the measures to not provoke you. however, the words that leave his mouth suffice of all the incitement his actions could’ve offered. “geez, you’re getting scores in single digits.” 

a chuckle rolls off his tongue as he goes through your answers, making you groan before you snatch the paper from his hands. “it’s my first time,” 

there’s an undertone of solicited jealousy in your voice, a glint of anger seeping through because even if your scores have always been a few levels before iwaizumi’s, they never hit the single digits until now. you wonder if he would believe you if you said you always received perfect scores up until second year of middle school. call it a change in air or whatever, but switching schools in the middle of your elementary school years turned out to be an awful choice since your grades fell down by a few percent; and despite being able to recover them to the point where you could maintain a reputable position in your grade, they never reached the same height again as they used to. 

much to your and your parents’ disappointment, your grades declined further in highschool. while the reason could be the extreme curriculum that high schoolers have to follow, you like to blame iwaizumi for that. you’ve been in the same class as him for two years now and every time he receives an award, something inside of you dies. you aren’t jealous of his achievements, nor do you think he doesn’t deserves the compliments and honours he gets. you spent two years looking for the reason behind your indifference towards the campus crush, only to realise that you’ve been maintaining your distance because he reminds you of everything you could’ve been if things didn’t go the wrong way. 

iwaizumi sighs, pressing more of his weight against the railings, leaning towards the as in an attempt to look further down. “you should get a tutor before finals. i mean, i’m always down to—”   

“can you stop acting like nothing happened?” you cut him off, half-annoyed, half-impatient. originally, you wanted to stop talking about academics; but then it occurs to you how normal iwaizumi is, as if you didn’t have an argument and haven’t been talking for almost a week now. while you admire him for his ability to strike a conversation in all situations, even under heavy circumstances, something about it this time didn’t sit right with you. 

“what happened?” he asks, but it’s almost as if he has been expecting you to ask you this question. 

and at the same time, you hope he doesn’t find you weird for bringing this up after you’ve told him to call it quits on you. “i broke up with y—” 

“we weren’t even dating in the first place,” ouch, you think, and it didn’t occur to you how hurtful it sounds until you heard it from iwaizumi himself. “and if you think i’m giving up just because you think i look better with kyoka, then you’re wrong.” 

“do you ever just look at me and wonder why you fell for me?” you let your words replace the silence looming above you and iwaizumi, allowing your eyes to meet his’ as if they’re having a conversation of their own. “because i do,” 

“i’m not as good as you— not even close to being as good as you. i was an average student and now i’m getting scores in single digits, i’m neither good at art, nor at sports. i’m not as kind as you, i get into fights, get detentions, i can’t help you with council works, i can’t help you with anything because you already know how to do everything.” there’s a smile dancing on your face for some reason. perhaps, you’re hoping for him to realise his worth, finally accepting that he deserves someone better thank you. “don’t you think you deserve someone who is almost, if not as, perfect as you?” 

another trail of silence follows as you attempt to decipher the look on his face. you take a step back, running your mind all over the mess you’ve created, and you end up wondering— what’s the point of this? you’ve been selfish for so long, it shouldn’t hurt to stay that way for a tad bit longer. even before you had realised your feelings for iwaizumi, you were aware of the impossibility of the two of you; so being selfish in this case was a luxury you never had the chance to choose. it was a game of push and pull from the start. you spent days playing with his heart, making him believe that you were desperately in love with him, and when you tell him the truth, iwaizumi accepts it like just another as-a-matter-of-fact about life. that’s when you realised you didn’t deserve iwaizumi, not by a long shot. 

perhaps, you don’t deserve iwaizumi at all, not even the small parts of him you’ve been able to experience over the past few weeks. you don’t know if you’d be able to continue living your life the same way without iwaizumi, watching him pursue someone else— someone better— but it’s everything you wish for him. while iwaizumi is everything you’ll ever need, you can’t have him settle for someone less. after all, nothing in the world could compensate for the shortfall.    

“is that how you think of me?” he chuckles as if you cracked a joke. iwaizumi doesn’t spare you a glance for the next few seconds, letting his eyes linger over the invisible patterns he’s creating with his fingers, on the railing. there’s a desist but you don’t think he’s waiting for an answer to his question. it’s like a verbal punctuation, like a semicolon before he exhales heavily, turning his gaze back to you.

“yn, did you know i failed in english in middle school?” he begins just like any one another as a matter-of-fact conversation he would initiate during lessons. “i’m good at sketching but not at painting, i do even the simplest of calculations on paper, can’t spell assassination without autocorrect—” 

“no way,” you interject, letting your eyebrows crease as you look at him in disbelief. well, of course, you wouldn’t think iwaizumi hajime would have trouble spelling assassination, if anything. 

“yes way, i really can’t.” he clarifies, emphasising the ‘really’ to make sure it sounds believable. “i once burned coffee, i have terrible sleeping habits, i’m lazy, i fight with my sister all the time, was almost suspended in primary school for beating a kid and—” another impromptu pause and he takes a step towards you, leaning closer than you already were, resting his forehead against yours. “— i’m in love with you.”   

it sounds like a heavenly confession in the way his eyes look into yours as if you’re the only thing worth looking at. his hands slip into yours at the right moment, giving your heart the push it needed to pace relentlessly as if it knew no boundaries. his lips curl into a lovesick smile as he interlocks his fingers with yours. “i think we make a perfect match.” 

you slide your hand out of his’, “you sure do know how to shut me up,” 

“and i know of many ways to do that,” you notice his lips curl into his signature smirk, one that makes you smile involuntarily as well.

the two of you bask in silence as it blankets you under the comfort it’s offering. you hate being in situations where there’s no absolute answer and your mind keeps oscillating between two choices that you can’t bring yourself to choose from. it’s humorous and equally irritating how one moment, you think you’d be just fine without iwaizumi and the next, you feel like drowning when he’s not next to you. perhaps, it’s the mood of time, the feeling of forever. the belief that you both could live and die by your word and never regret a thing. from what you could decipher, iwaizumi has always been in love with everything around him when he waltzed into your life as if it’s his own; and now that you’re taking your steps into his, slowly and gradually, all you want is to be a part of that. you would wake up thinking about how iwaizumi and you are like parallel lines— always close, but never together, but then you’d go to bed with the belief that somewhere, in some timeline, perhaps your paths were meant to intersect. you wouldn’t say it is love, but you couldn’t say it isn’t either.  

at times, you wonder why iwaizumi chose you, and it’s beyond your insecurities about academics and things that separate him from you. it’s rather a rhetorical question, one that iwaizumi, probably, has already answered, but you couldn’t help but ask again— why me. you have always been a nuisance to those who know you. despite receiving unconditional love from your parents and relatives, one would always hear them complain about how much of a bother you could be. however, you’ve never heard iwaizumi complain about it. it’s as if he knows you can be handful, but then again, his hands are always empty when it comes to you. you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t pursue yourself if you were in iwaizumi’s shoes. you’re too busy being lost in your own worries and concerns that you can’t see the person who adores you to death; and if somehow you do, then it’s impossible for you to believe you could be of so much important to someone that they’re willing to embrace single piece of you as if it belongs to the museum. 

“yn, get that you’re scared. you might feel that we won’t make it and that’s okay. i’m not asking you to disregard your worries. i respect them, and in return, i’m asking you to respect me.” iwaizumi says out of the blue, replacing the silence with his melodic voice. “you don’t have to give an answer now. we can stay the way we’ve been, no labels, i won’t force anything upon you. in other words, i’m asking you to let me like you—” 

“and then one day when i suddenly feel up to it, i’ll accept you then,” you cut him off, there’s a smile on your face before you playfully hit his arm. “seriously, iwaizumi? quoting a dialogue right now?” 

“i mean it, though.” he pulls you into a hug, chin resting above your head as he draws circles on your back, and you give in as if there’s no better place in the world than his arms. you may not be sure about him, or your feelings for him, but if it means you can spend a few more seconds in his arms, then you don’t mind reconsidering your decisions. 

“i love you,” his voice is no louder than a whisper and, you’re sure it wouldn’t have been audible if you weren’t next to him, with his arms around you. “i apologise for taking so much time to say this, and it’s fine if you think it’s rushed. take your time and sort your feelings. all i know is that i love you, i always have, and all i’m asking you is to let me love you.” 

his last four words ring in your head like an alarm. you look up, his grip loosens around your waist but never lets you out of his hands— there’s a puddle of emotion in his eyes. you see love, you see sadness, and fear, it’s a given. a smile rests on his lips but you could feel the hesitation in his fingertips soak through your shirt and exude through your skin. his words are the same, but it’s the first time you think of the possibility that maybe, he’s scared too. the future is predetermined and nothing could refute fate’s design. but if, even for a brief second, you can have the opulence of stars aligning in your favour, then you’d want to welcome it with arms wide open and a heart ready to walk into the storm. 

“can i kiss you?” albeit not the words you wanted to say at the moment, you don’t mind the intent. however, your doubts cave in when his hands ghost up your waist, feet taking a step away from you without a second thought. 

“no,” it feels like your heart has stopped. “you’re scoring in single digits. i think you should focus on academics instead of wanting to kiss a guy,” 

“gosh, iwa. that’s brutal.” and the very next second, it comes back to life as your lips curl into a smile. “are you going to tutor me?” 

“yes,” you chuckle at the cheery smile on his face as he takes your hand in his, planting a soft kiss on your palms. “and we can kiss after your studies.” well, it’s unlikely that you’d be able to get a good score in just three months, especially now that you have iwaizumi to serve as the main source of distraction; but the unlikelihood of falling in love with him? zero, because you realise that he has always been in love with you and you just caught up to him. 

NOTE. if u made it till here im gna kiss u and wish that you only have good days from now

the promised knight

knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader

♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you

word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)

genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be

content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!

Your happiest years were when everyone was together.

Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.

Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.

“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground. 

Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”

You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”

Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.

But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.

Everything changed when Kuina died.

She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident. 

More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.

The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more. 

A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.

“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”

Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”

Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.

“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”

“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”

The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.

There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.

“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair. 

It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.

Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.

You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.

On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child. 

Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?

You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.

The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is stopped, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.

“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”

Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute. 

Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.

So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.

“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”

Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.

“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”

“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.

“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”

“Join my knights.”

Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”

At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”

“Obviously.”

“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”

“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”

Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.

It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—

“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”

When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.

“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”

Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk. 

This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.

You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to? 

Who is he kidding? He doesn’t. 

And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?

After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.

“What do I need to do?”

Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.

“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”

“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?

A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.

“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”

Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”

Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”

“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”

You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”

Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.” 

That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?

All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room. 

The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.

You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.

But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.

“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed. 

Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.

She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.

Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.

“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”

The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.

“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.

Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.

You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.

When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.

But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.

A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.

Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.

You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?

Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.” 

How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.

It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”

When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.

“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.

“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.

Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.

You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.

“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.

“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”

You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.

Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head. 

Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.

“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.

After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.

Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start. 

Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better. 

You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically. 

“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.

Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.

You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”

“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink. 

After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”

“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”

In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.

Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of. 

But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?

“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him. 

“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.

“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.

Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.

That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.

The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime. 

He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were. 

All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.

Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.

“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.

“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.

Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.

The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative. 

Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.

Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills? 

If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.

Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.

You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.

“Took you long enough!” Or not.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face. 

“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”

Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know. 

After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.

It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.

Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.

The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges. 

You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.

The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.

“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.

Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.

Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.

When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.

No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.

You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.

“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway. 

“You too, Zoro.”

In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.

“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”

“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”

“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”

“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.

“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.” 

“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response. 

‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.

“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.

But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.

“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.

“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”

“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”

“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.

“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”

“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”

“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”

Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.

It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.

A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open. 

You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”

However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age. 

“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.

“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.

“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”

“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.

“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?

A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.

“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor. 

“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.

“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”

“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way. 

“...Forget I said anything.”

Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet. 

Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”

You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”

“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”

“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.

The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.

Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously. 

It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.

Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—

…accident?

“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”

“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”

“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”

“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.” 

He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—” 

Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.” 

You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”

“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.” 

You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”

“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”

“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.

“How did your mother die?” 

“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”

“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.” 

“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”

It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same. 

“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”

“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.

“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”

His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”

Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.

“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.

He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.

Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.

“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—

Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.

“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”

“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”

“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”

You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”

“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”

“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”

“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”

“Selma!”

If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone. 

“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods. 

“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”

But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.

The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon. 

Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.

“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”

“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?

“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?” 

Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.

“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”

Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”

The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.

“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”

“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.

Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him. 

“...But of course, we won’t do that.”

Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.

“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze. 

“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.

“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”

Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”

“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?

“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”

“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.

After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”

“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”

Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.

“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”

The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.

But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.

An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.

And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.

The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.

You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.

“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”

Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.

“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.

“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”

There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?

She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail. 

Well, fuck.

Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.

You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.

And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.

It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.

“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.

“You will never be queen!” You roar back.

Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.

As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.

While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy. 

“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”

The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.

He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords. 

No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.

Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.

Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again. 

You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.

Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage. 

As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.

Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.

It’s done.

Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.

“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”

On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.

“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”

“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”

“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”

“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”

“Goodbye, Mihawk.”

Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you. 

Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around. 

Like right now. What’s taking you so long?

The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water. 

“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”

“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”

Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell. 

He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.

Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”

Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“You’re okay.” You murmur.

“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.

“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.

Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.

“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”

He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.

But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now. 

You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”

Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”

The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.

Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.

When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.

The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.

Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.

Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.

You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.

“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”

What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.

As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space. 

Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.

“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.

“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."

“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”

“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring. 

“...Take care of her, Zoro.”

“Of course. I promise.”

As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”

The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”

When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here. 

“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”

“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”

Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”

That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.

Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.

“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.

“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”

“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”

“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.

There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.

“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.

“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”

Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.

The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.

Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.

“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.

“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”

Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”

“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”

Many years ago…

The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue. 

After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.

Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”

Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”

“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”

Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.

“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”

“Kuina! Get back here!”

read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna

┊.˚🪩 ༘┊͙ 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ; ↳ as a rising star in the tumultuous world of hollywood, you're handed a golden opportunity to boost your career – a fake relationship. what your manager forgot to mention? your leading man is none other than satoru gojo, hollywood's notorious fuckboy. easy? well, not exactly.

pairing: fem!reader x satoru gojo tags: smau/partially written; actor/actress!au, fuckboy!gojo, jjk is a live-action show in this au, fluff/angst/humor/eventual smut length: 1/?? note: AAAAAAAAA im a sucker for fake dating, actor au trope. enjoy besties! <3

[disclaimer: the way the reader is portrayed is just for the reason of style/posing! this is not what the reader looks like (she should look like however you’d like her to!) just wanted to clarify!! <3]

PROFILES ↳ y/n's besties ↳ gojo's group ↳ others

ONE – hold on, i'm dating who?

TWO – the deal

THREE – he will be a pain in the ass

FOUR – satoru, don’t be a whore

FIVE – act like you like her

SIX – meeting and matching hoodies

SEVEN – exclusive! satoru gojo’s party

EIGHT – interrupted movie night

NINE – angus disapproves

TEN – the interview