Renaissance And Rebirth. Theyd Seemed So Easy For So Long, Something That Oikawa Toru Could Bask In Underneath

renaissance and rebirth. they’d seemed so easy for so long, something that oikawa toru could bask in underneath the sun, something he could hold and feel as they overtook him as easily as he could feel rain upon his open flesh.

water was meant to be rebirth, was it not? the ocean was meant to be his path to retribution, meant to swallow him whole and lap at the wounds that had trenched deep into his skin until they met his bone, and then he was meant to come out anew. he was meant to step out of the ocean as doubt washed off of him, he was meant to step into the depths of this earth and be released as an extension of this water and soil.

yet as the ocean pulls at his feet, as he watches the sand swirl beneath him, he feels no different. it’s silly now, to think that the earth would ever treat him as anything more than human, and yet he takes another step into the sea. he walks until it covers his calves, now, lets the water consume that part of his body as though it was only ever the ocean’s to have and to hold.

being human is a horribly fickle thing. he can feel the way the sun settles into his skin, he can feel the quiet breeze in his hair, the way the ocean pushes and pulls with every wave, and there is nothing more.

and yet, he is human and, despite this lack of rebirth, despite the way he is still the man he was before he wished for the ocean to overcome him, oikawa toru finds no need to beg.

he hears the way you step beside him in the water before he ever sees you settle next to him. the waves give to you, ripples moving around your joints and into the waters that crash against him.

and humanity reveals itself in moments like these, when oikawa’s chest tightens as your breath reaches his ears, as the sea salt air feels sweeter, a little more vivid in the sense that this is sure to be a memory—that as each moment passes it becomes nothing more than a suggestion in oikawa’s skull, and he will be sure to know the chill of his spine, the taste of the ocean, the twist of sunlight in your hair as well in five years as he does now.

humanity tends to reveal itself in the moments that define memories, not in the earthly waters, not in the wishes we have made for ourselves, and certainly not in the desire to let go that holds deep in the marrow of oikawa’s bones.

no, humanity is found in what tells him to stay.

“there,” you say, raising an index finger to the horizon. “a sailboat.” he follows your gaze and, sure enough, there rests what could only be described as the shadow of a sail deep in the ocean’s palm.

“good eye,” he replies, and then returns to you once more. you’ve always drawn him to you, as though you were a whisper he was desperately trying to hear—he could only wish to be close enough to you to know each of your secrets, to know the way you work as well as he knew the ground beneath his feet.

and yes, humanity is in his moments of memory, and yes, humanity is in the way he can feel the sun, the sand, the water, the breeze, but most importantly yes, his humanity is grounded in the rapture he finds in you.

“iwa would be surprised to find you so quiet, toru,” you say, and as always, he leans in closer to hear you speak.

“it’d be heartbreaking for him, i’m sure,” he muses, and he’s sure to catch the way you stifle laughter with your breath.

and this is what rapture feels like.

“for him to miss it? certainly.”

he rolls his eyes at you, and then you knock your shoulder into his, sending him off balance. he grabs onto you as he sways, watching as the water flows between the two of you, but of course you laugh while he pulls on your arm, bringing him back up to where he once stood. he doesn’t take his hand off of you, and you don’t move to release him either. instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into him with a quiet ease.

neither one dares to speak again. the ocean seems to flow around you, melding you together until you feel more like one body than two. and perhaps humanity is something like this, a silence in understanding, the moments after laughter, the soreness after a smile.

oikawa leans down and presses his lips against your bare shoulder, kissing your flesh in uneven certainty. the movement is unpracticed, unfamiliar, and, in its most delicate form, human.

and perhaps it is not perfection, a lack of doubt, a need for renaissance and rebirth from the ocean that could ever scrape the humanity from oikawa’s bones. perhaps there is nothing that could dare to remove what could be from the wounds entrenched in his skin. and perhaps, most importantly, it is you that will remind him of this piece of humanity.

[23:17] atsumu miya knows colour theory

warnings none just atsumu using a lot of nicknames

other timestamps

"atsumu."

humming, your boyfriend turns his head around towards your direction and finds peace within your presence as you sauntered your way to him.

"this is a very important question okay?" an interrogating expression beholds itself on your face, but atsumu only stares at the features upon it like it was the first time he'd seen a human. "atsumu. i need your answer."

"yes 'm listening, sweets."

"what's your favourite colour?"

the adoring expression atsumu wore like a badge had wore off and transforms into what you could only assume was a perplexed man sitting in front of you. he laughs.

"atsumu! i told you to answer the question this is serious." his face puffs up with a vermillion tone and he pulls you closer to his body, thick arms around your waist fitting together like jigsaw pieces.

"darling, yer so earnest about it, of course i'll laugh." your face is peppered with billions of feathery kisses, swiping him away with your hands you attempt to push him away and sulk; only to make his offense stronger and kisses you more.

"miya, answer my damn question-"

"ooh, pulling out miya are we?" teasingly, he smirks and how attractive it is to watch that stupid man in front of you lovingly mock you.

"it's not that hard of a question to answer." crossing your arms and folding your legs, you move to the other side of the couch before he scooches towards you to gift a disgustingly fat and tender kiss on your cheek.

"okay, then what's yer favourite colour my love?"

"since i'm not like you," you humph annoyedly, "green."

"then simple, mine is red."

puzzled, you unfold your arms and atsumu's cheesy smiles widens in it itself, slightly beginning to look creepy so you push your palm against his face and move him away, and he laughs before coming in to hug you once more.

"they're complementary colours, baby. it's supposed to be romantic." chuckling, his face is attached to your stomach and he lays upon your body, although the position is awkward.

"it sounds like christmas. and what are complementary colours?" disproving his point and forgetting the reason why you asked him the question in the first place, you relax your body and sit up properly for atsumu to prop his head on your legs.

"they're like colours that are opposites but they're good together. like us. and what's wrong with christmas, scrooge?" twiddling your fingers between his, he mutters and awaits your response.

"that was corny, and you only enjoy christmas because you're not the one making the christmas list for all of our friends and family." flicking his head you scold him and he winces, before bringing your fingers back and trapping them in his hands.

"now i have an excuse to hold your hand as well as provide for my own safety!" he pauses for a moment, "hey i do help with christmas shopping."

"you chose to buy fuzzy dice for samu last year."

"that was a good 1800¥ spent."

"he doesn't even own a car."

"what matters is that we spend too much money on him and last year was a cool down compared to all the rocking gifts i've got him before."

"you know what, it's fine, i'll handle the shopping but you pay for it."

"i'll accept that. now, i need to go upstairs i have super secret agent stuff to attend." he kisses the top of your head and bolts upstairs.

"miya atsumu, i know you're changing the shopping basket gifts for samu! get back down here."

a/n: my exams are ending soon thank whoever is up there

THIS IS LITERALLY SO GOOD IM CRYING

Remember Me

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader

Warnings: angst, MAJOR character death (wouldn’t be aot without it ✌🏻), not proof-read, all hurt, no comfort :) my first levi post and I broke his heart hehe but this isn’t as sad as I originally intended so ?? Ig that’s nice ??

Aun en la distancia, nunca vayas a olvidar que yo contigo siempre voy, recuérdame…  

He had never meant to fall in love, for love in this world only brought hurt and agony to a soldier such as him; love was something he had learned to equate with loss, a ruthless grip in his chest that forced him awake most nights, only to haunt him with the faces of those he once knew, ones now covered in blood; a crimson so similar to the sight that forever stained his rough, war-torn, hands, something he had become more than acquainted with throughout his years.

It was due to this world and all the loss it saw that he had promised himself, with each fallen comrade and each grieving loved one, that he would no longer devote his heart to anything other than the cause, because despite being the world’s named strongest, it was a title never self-proclaimed. Levi was merely only a pawn in the wretched game of war, and there were only so many hits a wounded soldier could take before they turned fatal; he would no longer allow himself to be compromised by any weakness in his heart, it was something the world couldn’t afford.

This was a promise he had made to himself on a cold, lonely night where he sat hunched over at his desk with discomfort shooting throughout his spine; it was a promise he made as he sat there sobbing into his hands after signing yet another daunting stack of paperwork titled K.I.A; a symbol of loss that still cut deep no matter how many lives he had witnessed coming to their end, because how can one ever truly become accustomed to such tragic sight? Because no one was strong enough to withstand the horrid end that the scouts faced in the field, no one could witness such an atrocity and return without succumbing to the same darkness that plagued the silent hallways.

He had promised this to himself, to save himself from yet another tragic heartbreak.

Yet, it was a promise that you had somehow made him break.

Because, Levi had never meant to fall in love, but even so, he was not ashamed to admit that absolutely nothing could’ve stopped his heart from diving straight into a uncontrolled freefall just so it could crash right beside yours; because Levi had fallen in love with you, and how could he ever regret such a feeling when you looked at him with such a tender warmth swimming in your eyes?

You had made it so easy, that loving you was now as simple as breathing to him; you had made love so easy, that it was nothing to him now but second nature.

For you had shown him what true happiness could taste like, a refreshing taste that cleansed his palette from the bile and salt that burned him with every breath; it was his new favourite dish, though he would refuse to admit, the taste of you and your love was more delectable than any fine pastry or any expensive tea, and he consumed it all greedily like a man starved.

You, always so warm like the sun on a beautiful summers day, had melted the high walls of ice that had encompassed his aching heart with just a small smile as you brought him his evening tea; he had never felt so light nor so free other than when you beamed at him with a simple yet gentle, “go to sleep soon, Captain, your health is important too.”

You had shown him that you would be contently patient, waiting for him to be ready for every next step and never being thrown off by his strong, cold exterior; you made him feel worth it at every possible corner, showing him that he was in fact a person worth staying for; and whilst he was hopeless in telling you just how thankful he was for that patient perseverance you had dedicated to him, words always seeming to fail him when it mattered most, he could tell with each adoring look that you gifted him, that you knew all along.

It was all this together with your heartbeat, which had quickly become his favourite song, a soothing lullaby on nights filled with nightmares and no sleep, had finally shown him the meaning of true peace. It was the melody of your heart that chased away the bad thoughts and haunting screams to which he knew that with your heart’s simple beat, all he would be able to hear now was the beautiful chorus of security and adoration your love had granted him.

So, with soft caresses and gentle words, Levi had slowly found himself floating in a daydream where only you and him existed, protected with the safety of your dedication to one another.

But silly little daydreams don’t last long, not if you are Levi Ackerman.

And he was a fool for thinking maybe this would be different, maybe you would be different, that he could keep you by his side until his very last breath, because nothing could ever change the fact that Levi Ackerman was a man destined to be alone; a man destined and subjected to watch all those around him perish whilst he had no choice but to sit helplessly and watch.

Levi Ackerman was a fool, a fool for thinking he could keep you safe.

He knew it as he held you in his arms and watched you bleed out in the middle of a muddy field littered with corpses.

He knew it as he harshly commanded, with sobs trapped in his throat, “Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare fucking leave me, that’s an order.”

With his choked and broken words his thumb delicately swipes across your cheeks, ridding the stray tears and dirt that tainted your skin. It was near impossible to even look at you because to see you wear any expression other than happiness, nevermind the excruciating pain your face was screaming at him, nearly made his own heart stop and his breath cease; for his heart couldn’t help but scold him in agony that this should be him laying here bleeding out, never you.

Yet, he was hopeful - or perhaps delusional - in thinking that the medics would be here soon and they would fix you and make you better. You just needed to wait.

But with a frail voice, you lifted your hand, stained with your tears and blood, to his cheek and rasped a wet, “Promise me that you’ll remember me, Levi. Even in distance, promise me that you’ll remember.”

It was with those words that Levi knew that perhaps life was something you could no longer wait for. It was with those blasphemous pleas that he was disturbed to hear the bitter sound of surrender in your voice, for you, his toughest, bravest, and most determined soldier, were resigning yourself to lose the cruel battle of life and death.

It was then that Levi had decided that if you wouldn’t fight, then he would have to do it for you, like he had been doing for all of humanity for so very long.

So, he pushed down harder on the gaping wound on your abdomen, furiously trying to halt the incessant bleeding, once again staining his hands with the blood of another comrade, “I don’t need to remember you when you will be right beside me, you hear me, brat?”

And he ignored the way you no longer winced at the pressure, ignored the way his heart jumped in panic at your body’s lack of response. Ignored it all for his delirious vision where you would be fine, where you would be ok; chanting in his mind over and over again like a holy mantra that you would be ok, that you would be fine.

You will be ok.

You will be fine.

You will be ok.

You will be fi-

With tender eyes you gazed into his, “I will always… be with you… Levi, in every… dream and in your… heart, but-”

“No, no buts. You will be fine, you hear me? Enough with this mushy crap, the medics are on their way, just hang on a little longer.”

Yet, the words he fiercely uttered were only a reassurance to himself because he could see it in your beautiful, ruined face that you knew you wouldn’t be fine, that he was trying to convince himself of an ending that simply was never meant to be his.

It destroyed him.

And with your very own choked sob, that pushed a crimson curse past your chapped lips, you begged, “Please.. don’t cry, Levi. Though I… have to go, you… shouldn’t cry, please… don’t cry.”

But how could he not cry? How could he look down at you, as you struggled to breathe and gasped in pain, and not cry as you died a death you did not deserve?

What you were asking was unfair, it was so fucking unfair.

Your hand dropped from his cheek, flopping brokenly beside you as you drowsily muttered, “I’m so… tired… Levi, can I… just close my eyes… for a little bit?”

And as you both became stained with the scarlet puddle forming beneath you, he internally screamed profanities and chants of no.

He wouldn’t let you close your eyes for that would be the end, and even though it was so incredibly selfish of him, he decided this isn’t how you would go, not when Levi had plans of growing old with you, of opening that damn tea shop, and maybe even having a brat of your own.

No, you would die peacefully as you slept beside him many years from now, not bleeding out on the battlefield, he wouldn’t let you go like this.

And Levi was never a man to beg but he would easily get down on his hands and knees to grovel for your safety, for you to stay awake and live out the life you had both dreamed of.

Because you had to stay awake, for him.

Please, please don’t leave him alone.

Please.

Yes, Levi was never a man to beg, but for you? For you he pleaded, “No, keep them open, baby, please just keep them open a little longer for me? Let me see your eyes.”

And as he lightly tapped your face your eyes fluttered open, only to break him just a little bit more, because your beautiful eyes were devoid of the warmth he had come to love; for what Levi saw instead was the clasp of death creeping over your eyes as the back of his throat burned at its presence.

And Levi is strong, but who is he to deny the fear he feels when the reaper makes a home in those same eyes he calls his sanctuary? And as the biting hiss of desperation floods its way through his bloodstream, he becomes someone he could not even begin to recognise as he rambles to you in his frenzy because you couldn’t leave him, not now. Please.

So, he talks, franticly talks to keep you with him and talks to remind you of plans you had yet to complete. Talks to know you are still with him, heart beating and alive.

“Remember about how you wanted to go to Sina to buy this new tea you had heard about? You said you were going to buy it so we could both try it together, you can’t cancel on me now, you brat. Plus, I don’t remember what the tea was called, what was it called, love? It is probably something way too fruity for my taste, isn’t it? You hate how bitter my tea can be sometimes, but I love the way you make it, sweet like you. How do you make your tea again? Tell me, y/n.”

Yet, you remained silent with weakening, harsh breaths and as each second passed he saw your spirit fading; and as he witnessed you slowly giving in to the sweet lull of death, what had he left to do now other than pull you closer? For now he was pathetically grasping at your weak body tightly, pulling you further into his chest with trembling hands, as if it would somehow keep you grounded to him, to life, just for a little longer.

“No, no. Keep your eyes open just a little longer, the medics will be here soon. Keep your eyes open an-and I will get you that cat, you remember? The one you spotted on the training ground? We can name it Klaus, no matter what, we can call it Klaus. I lied, you brat, I like the shitty name, just keep your eyes open and I will stay up all day and night trying to catch that stupid fucking cat. Just keep your damn eyes open.”

But Levi was a fool, for death had no time for bargaining and his begging fell on deaf ears as you breathily whispered out your final plea, “Please… remember… Levi…. I love you.”

And his heart cried out with him as he lowered his head and desperately whimpered into your ear, “y/n… please, just stay for a little longer.”

But you were gone, falling limp in his arms as you had gone cold.

Why were you now so cold?

In disbelief, wide eyed, he shakes your still body, vision blurring and his face starting to sting as the salty rivers slowly mix with his open cuts. He shakes you, getting more and more desperate the longer you refuse to reply. He shakes you, shakes you harder and harder until the dam breaks and humanity’s strongest is reduced to nothing but a broken man, a grieving lover.

“No. Don’t you do this to me, you brat. I didn’t say it back, you can’t go until I say it back.”

But your heart had gone silent, no longer singing along to his with a sweet tune, no longer united in your joint serenade.

And what else had Levi to do other than to cry?

Because he had fought, he had killed, and he had remained strong, but where had that gotten him? How well had this facade worked out for him in the end? He had exhausted every possible option to take and now he had no choice left other than to crumble and fall like a bird shot out of the sky.

So he sobbed, grieved for you, screamed for you, let his heart rage at the cruelty of this world when in reality, he had no one else to blame other than himself, for everyone close to Levi Ackerman is doomed to die and he was a fool to think you would be any different.

And with the rest of the remaining scouts now gathered on this bloodied field, a second too late, gaping at his harrowing display of broken grief, he could no longer find it in himself to care for the world around him; not as he held his only semblance of hope dead in his arms; not as his tears fell onto your lifeless face and mixed with your own; not as he gently closed your empty eyes, void of the warmth he had all but memorised, and laid you to rest; not as he slowly came to terms with the fact that he had unknowingly condemned you to such a tragic fate.

For Levi Ackerman had killed you, all for the sake of a happy ending he was never meant to live.

And Levi Ackerman would remember you, for you would be a ghostly reminder of all he was never supposed to have.

A/N: :)

[01:21] atsumu miya has a big crush on you

warnings none!

you weren't surprised that he stared at her; her features so delicate, yet sharp, gentle yet so bold. envy couldn't help but knock at your door as you notice that every class you catch him staring at her: your seatmate. much like all the other girls, you'd taken a liking to atsumu miya, the setter of the volleyball club.

you shared a few classes with him, but most of the time you sat apart in far distances from the room, your existence barely noticeable to his schedule. despite having a friendship with him several years back, he'd changed and drifted from you as a result of conflict in interest. blissful and short lived was the friendship, yet quality over quantity had truly reigned over that highlighted phrase, and you had come to terms with it yourself.

even though you had been friends with atsumu for two years as early teenagers; he made life feel like rainfall on a drought, sunshine in blistering winters. he'd provided you with chunks of happiness no other person could gift to you. losing him was a defeat on your behalf as you realised you weren't as important to him as you had thought.

sitting pretty your seatmate, emiko, sighed tirelessly at your cluelessness as you quietly groan at the reminder of atsumu never looking your way, when in reality it was the polar opposite.

watching you dejectedly sit every lesson beside her was a killjoy, and she'd wish you could notice that in reality atsumu had been burning holes into your face every class, and not her. although the chase was interesting to witness, it had taken far too long and she couldn't help but feel as if she'd become a wedge in the (yet to bloom) relationship.

"that ends this lesson, please make sure that all the people's names i've written on the board have handed in their assignment by tomorrow. you may all leave." like the speed of light, you pack up your books and are the first to leave the class, sparing no glance to the innocent setter waiting to grab your attention.

"miya-san," emiko calls out, "if you're going to stare at l/n-san all throughout the class, do it so they know that you're staring at them, not me."

atsumu's face burns red with embarrassment and he nods in accordance, before running towards the direction he assumed you headed. sighing yet again, emiko slowly packs her bags up and hopes that things between you and atsumu are cleared up.

a/n: this is kind of a whole like mutual pining thing but both love interests are dense and cant pick up hints ?? its really short though rip

[03:10] gojou satoru is a loving stranger

warnings none

taking a deep breath, you recognise the man before you and everything comes rushing back; the memories, the jokes, the dates, all down to the last moment until you had broken up. yet that tingly feeling in your chest no longer lingered as it had done so in the past, but rather a sense of relief rested carefully against your lungs and you smile.

"...satoru." his ears perk up at the familar notes of your voice, and it's almost as if he's met you all over again. the memories flood back to him, euphoria flowing through his veins as he examines your features and how you've changed.

"y/n."

"it's been a while right?" soft spoken and gentle, nothing like how you were before; loud and outgoing, ready to hand over your opinion against someone who you thought was wrong.

"yeah, six or seven years. you look great." tapping his foot awkwardly, he's unsure as to how to fulfill the conversation, maybe it was because it had been so long, and seeing you now looked like it was the last time you would ever interact.

"thank you, uh you haven't aged since college." a new wrinkle line has formed beneath your nose, and above your lips; maybe an indication that you've been happier these days. your eyes are more genuine, and there's more life shining through it compared to the stress inducing days of your young adulthood.

maybe five years with each other wasn't enough, because satoru couldn't seem to recognise the person before him. you were so mature now, your fashion was so much more trim instead of the surplus oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that you'd sport in the light of day. there was a cup of black coffee in your hands too, a beverage you'd told him so many times you despised because of the overbearing scent and the bitter flavour. even your hair was longer, with your roots a different colour to the tips. the silence between you two was perplexing, since the mood was always bright or cacophonous, but in a sense that there were two people in their youth simply basking in the events of romance before adulthood would come whisking them away.

seven years away from satoru had most definitely transformed you, from a vociferous 20 something year old coming home at the crack of dawn with their partner after a night out to an adult in their early 30s, wondering when work is over so they have time to take a nap at home and possibly slip in the time to watch some tv. the priorities you had once fixed for yourself had changed once you and satoru had broken up, and you were more in order, administrative. seven years ago, you would've loathed the person you became, you would've mocked this new person, with satoru alongside you probably fiddling with your hair. but now you remember how immature you were seven years ago, and that this change was good for you, and that silence can be comforting rather than awkward.

"so what are you doing here, i thought you hated libraries?" as excruciatingly pesky satoru had found small talk, it seemed there was no other method to communicate with you.

"ah, i'm here to meet a friend. but i could say the same about you, what are you doing here?"

"oh, just finding some books to recommend to my students." he holds up a philosophy book, by some german philosopher whose name you couldn't pronounce.

"you used to hate students."

"and you used to hate the library."

you both chuckle internally, and before you head in different directions, you quickly turn around and say:

"sato- gojou san?" the sudden realisation that you hadn't seen him in years had taken away your rights to address him by his first name.

"yeah?" his stare is unfamiliar, like he's looking at a stranger, someone he was never on an emotional journey with, someone who never helped him grow.

"it was nice seeing you." 26 muscles and your lips are pulled to an angle that used to bring joy into satoru's life, but are now only given for courtesy.

"yeah, it was nice seeing you too."

a/n: there's nothing special ab this, i think i just wanted to show how two people who used to adore the existence of one another can turn into old strangers that you would seldom speak to

.when you were mine - sakusa kiyoomi

.pairings sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader

.genre break up

.ongoing | completed

.tw cursing(?)

.wc 2.4k

SUMMARY

Leaving Sakusa Kiyoomi was hard, but staying with him was harder.

Keep me in your arms again, I pine for the warm feeling of home where our limbs laid restlessly in our bed. I long for the touch of your fingertips and the ghost of your breath. I yearn for the mixed laundry in our room, and how you tried your best to keep the colours from mixing. Your efforts were far from being in vain, rather it was my fault for never trying hard enough for you. Trying hard enough for us.

I awaken alone now, with your side of the bed empty, and cold. A naked pillow with no head to call its own. The nights are darker, where the winter season couldn't hold a candle to the hiemal desolation that hibernated in my heart.

The coffee is bitter; dark and too acerbic for my own liking. The taste lingers too. It's pungent, and the scent wafts around the house until I leave it.

It's practically embarrassing to walk the streets without your hand intertwined in mine, I feel discomfited at the fact that I can no longer grab a hold of your hand in order to find sanctuary, the same hand I would grip onto afraid that I would lose you in broad daylight, the same hand that embraced your body every night that we slept, and the same hand that would wipe away your tears in the evening.

Yet it was twilight when you left me. I felt your presence begin to dissipate within the air as I slept for longer, so when the chill of a human's existence or lack thereof, had held me in the night, I woke up: to see nothing on your side.

And it all came flashing back to me, why you had left. Why you had packed your bags, why you cried as you removed most of your belongings into one suitcase.

ー

"You're late home today."

"Yeah."

Pure silence grows in the atmosphere and neither of us speak. You seemed expectant that I would answer you, but I couldn't tell at the time.

"...Do you want to tell me why?"

"Do I have to? I'm tired today."

"Okay. There's food in the fridge if you ever get hungry."

ー

The awkwardness that grew in our relationship may have driven you more and more to leave, and it's my fault for not trying. The effort that I lacked for our relationship had been made up for by you, and it had taken all of your energy alongside it, and quite possibly, your love for me.

I drained you by loving you languidly, I emptied your void by not filling it the way you had wanted me to. I expected you to make all of the first moves, and that you would do all the work for me in this relationship, and that I had to do nothing.

But you said to me that you were fine with getting hurt, so long as it were for me. So why are you leaving now, when you were the one who promised that you would do everything to make me happy, are you tired of me? Have you had enough?

Our solicitous tête-à-têtes had soon enough squandered from the depths of our hearts and eventually reshaped themselves into a mandatory chore made from the top of our heads, maybe to remind one another that there could've been a spark, that maybe our love was salvageable; even though you knew full well I could not respond in the healthy ways we knew I should have.

I've grown to detest the very sight of bookstores, or gardens. They were your favourite date idea and we hadn't been to either one of them together in months. But to my dismay, your favourite library had sent me an email, notifying there was a book yet to be returned, and we had to pay a small fine.

The nostalgia seemed to creep back up into my memory as I took steps closer to return the book Essays of Love that had been contained carefully in the tote bag which you bought me from our uni days.

ー

"I know it's not much, but we're starving students, and I thought this would suit your coat that your mom bought you." You shot a tender smile towards me, as you handed the off white bag with intricate black brushes against the material, that unexpectedly did suit the coat my mother had purchased for me.

"You didn't need to do this." I remember that I had pressed a small kiss against the pads of your knuckles as we stepped closer in proximity in the blistering winters of Tokyo; the neon lights of the building illuminating the features on your face in which I grew accustomed to.

"I know. But I love you."

"Thanks."

ー

"That'll be ¥1000." The local librarian speaks, aggressively typing against the keys of her board, and simultaneously writing swiftly against the yellow pad paper which had notes we both knew would be futile in the future.

Handing her the money, I gave a quick thank you before making my way back home in the dark afternoon of December. Meandering around the town wasted too much time, and the solitude which had consumed my being after your departure soon became an obligation in my life, and there could be no other way to regurgitate these feelings of drab emptiness and neglect. But I finally had time to think to myself for a bit though. As calamitous my mind was, the inhospitable temper of the winter night kept me company and I was numbed to the glacier like climate during my promenade.

I treated you with a manner that seemed perfectly fine to me, but neglectful to you and I became too expectant of your actions, anticipating for you to ask to hold my hand, or to request that I hug you in the night, and that I could pass you the box of tissues beside me; and I thought as though it was enough for you.

It's strenuous to walk around our home when everything is painted with you, when your hairbrush still abides on the edge of the vanity of our my room. When your mismatched socks still dawdle in the hallways and into my vision as I walk up the stairs every passing day after you left, or when your old shirt still situates on your side of the bed just as I had positioned it so.

Once again I yearn for you, just like those nights ago, and the pain comes washing back like a tide, exposing my most vulnerable aspects. The curtains close and I can finally let my bottled up ardour burst, chest heaving, lips trembling with an audible quiver every few seconds. Lachrymose eyes and a runny nose could only be a brief description of the inexpressible emotions bubbling up within my soul.

Sheer agony engulfs itself within me and I lose all senses of sanity as I think of how I've lost you, how you've left me, and how I can never get you back.

ー

"Kiyoomi?" His head had never turned so fast towards the reverberation of your voice. There you stood in your glory, wearing what he knew you would consider "indoor clothes", holding a bag in your arms as well as your keys to the house.

"What are you doing here?" Flicking the tears away and regaining his posture, he looms over you, observing your current state.

You didn't look any better, skin pale, lips chapped and hair disheveled, if anything, you seemed worse than he did, yet you had too much pride in your personality to admit that.

"I've come to collect the rest of my belongings." Sharp and clean was the cut. Enough to slice through Kiyoomi's heart, and you could hear it if you listened closely.

The impending outcome of your relationship had come to its destination, and he deemed it unacceptable, as he tried to grasp you in his clutches whilst you pack away the rest of your belongings, taking Kiyoomi's heart with you.

His countless cries echoed in your shared bedroom, as he attempted to take your clothes back out of the bag you had brought alongside you.

"Just one more day, please, stay with me. And I'll let you go." As heartbreaking as it would be to him, you scoffed, taking his words like a joke, like it was offensive of him to even step near you.

"Stop trying. I'm sick of this, I'm sick of you. Where was all of this six months ago? Why are you acting up now? Stop being selfish and let me go." Yanking your wrist away from him, you zip up the bag bringing the rest of your belongings, ignoring the clenching sensation going wild in your chest.

His countless tries to win you back into his arms for the night had failed to his dismay, and you had vanished into the twilight to a destination he would never figure out. Your relationship together had begun deteriorating the moment you'd granted him anything he wished without wanting something in return, or in this case, his love.

The neglect he'd provided you had only driven you to do more for him, maybe to please him, to make him look your way; but to no avail would he send an ounce of his undivided attention towards you, the love of his life for who knows how long. It was an ongoing cycle, and it wasn't until six months later you'd realise you wasted all of your time and energy on a man who wouldn't exert the same impression just to remind you that he did love you back.

Yet somehow, you knew that no matter how little he had shown you that he'd loved you too, there was a voice in the back of your head that would try to reassure that maybe, truly, he did love you the same way you loved him, but it was just that he struggled. But you'd gotten rid of the voice in that part of your head, you knew it would only hurt you to keep defending Kiyoomi in this empty relationship. Pretending to yourself that some day he'd say those three words back and not just some half assed "Me too" or "Thanks" was ruining you more than staying with him, so maybe leaving was for the better.

Although it was true that Kiyoomi was never an affectionate person in the first place, you'd assumed that he'd changed for the ones that he loves, as any normal person would do, but he would never budge out of his shell, only breaking what was left of your heart. His introversion seemed to keep up for three or more years, or however long it was the two of you dated, he'd never keep track as he deemed anniversaries to be "unnecessarily difficult to plan".

So moving on from him would be the best decision, even though you'd loved him since you were 17, and you had known no better, than to love Sakusa Kiyoomi, Itachiyama's Ace Spiker. Even though it was going to hurt, and the process would be long and hard, you knew it'd be for the better and the both of you would grow up to be happier people. After all, you're only 23.

"Goodbye, Kiyoomi. I-" It was a growing habit to always say 'I love you' before departing from him, maybe to encourage him to say it back. Although looking at where you are right now, you knew it'd be best not to say anything at all, just to save yourselves the pain.

He's fumbling through his words, before he finally stammers. "I lo-love you."

It was enough to make you stop in your tracks, but it could not fully equate to the agonising memories where you'd wait hours and hours every day just to make sure he got home safe. It could not amount to the times you had wasted to put an effort into the relationship only for him to hand back a yawn alongside a wave of his hand saying, 'Not today.' None of it could measure to the countless dates, movies, dinners he had missed, using the excuse of his practice.

You were never an important priority of his in the first place, and it finally came to be that you would never be a priority of his in the future. Staying with him for longer would only be a constant reminder of how little he tried between the two of you, and it would just be a shot to your ego at this point.

"Please say something." His voice is quiet and hoarse, barely trembling out the syllables that you could only jusy decipher. He attempts to close thr gap between the two of you, stepping closer with his hands reached out to grab yours, and you walk further back, shaking your head, shattering his heart on impact.

"No." You firmly reply. "I'm sick of waiting, I'm tired of having to lie to myself and everybody else about how you're doing when the last time I've been able to check, you would only wave me off and say 'night'. What the hell is that, Kiyoomi?" Your words shoot towards him like a shot of a new venom, and his body freezes, unprepared for your next response. "I don't want this anymore."

He shakes his head in refusal, not ready to face the facts. "Don't say it," he hushes you, "please, don't say anything. Just stay with me, I'll be better. I know I will."

The newfound urge to suddenly plead you back into his life almost convinces you to retract your statement, and just go back to him. Go back to staying in the quiet, lonely home, where you would spend most days wondering if Kiyoomi was even going to be back today. However, you shake your head again, and give him a pitiful smile, ready to crush his heart with your bare hands and let the remnants crumble for him to clean up.

"I don't want you, Kiyoomi. So just let me leave." You try your hardest to ignore the collapse in his expression as he finally hears your farewell. Taking the bag you had filled with the rest of your stuff, you walk away from Kiyoomi, with his cracked sobs in the background begging you to stay.

It's hard to miss the wails of the man you once loved when it's thrown right at your face, and you no longer have an obligation to wipe his tears away. The sobs get fainter and fainter, and you take a breath of relief as you finally feel free from the shackles that love had kept you under.

a/n hi lol this was kinda sitting in my drafts so i just like did what i could im sorry for the half assed ending im so tired these days :(( and its been like months since ive been on this account