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「 CRY FOR ME 」 ♡ THE FINAL ACT

PAIRING : Suna Rintarō x Reader.

GENRE : Angst.

TAGS/WARNINGS : NSFW. Fake Dating. Unrequited Love. Profanity. Enemies (not really) to Lovers. Friends with Benefits. Not very canon compliant.

SYNOPSIS : You have been in love with your best friend Sakusa Kiyoomi for as long as you can remember. The problem? He is in love with somebody else. And for you to snag even the tiniest bit of his affections, it seems like you would willingly go through drastic measures.. Even if it means teaming up with his lifelong rival, Suna Rintarō

PS. READ THIS : Ah. I don't want to get too long here cos I'll post something separately anyways but THANK U SOOOO MUCH for the overwhelming support this series got. I hope this ending satisfies all of you. If not, well, suck it up HEKWHKQHWJ this is the first ever story I have ever managed to complete with an audience so it means a lot to me. Thank u so much for everything. I love u. WE STILL HAVE THE EPILOGUE COMING SO WAIT FOR THAT AS WELL HEHEHE

TAGLIST : CLOSED

"YOU know you're not the one getting married, right?"

A masculine voice rings in your ear, relentlessly reminding you for the nth time of the wedding that wasn't your own as you continue taking up his time of the day for dress advice. He's been complaining for hours equal to the amount of time you've spent getting frustrated at your lack of options.

It's a sunny day in London—a vast difference from the harsh blow of winter air on your skin when you first arrived two years ago. And usually, summer meant a wardrobe change. A massive collection reserved just for the season piling in boutiques and dress shops. Typically, you shouldn't be having a hard time picking something nice for a garden wedding but you are and it's pissing you off.

Rolling your eyes, you squeeze the device between your ear and shoulder, shuffling through the racks as you try to find what should be the perfect piece of dress to wear at a wedding as grand and expensive as the one you're attending. You're not a fan of the occasion, but this one is an important event. Missing it would make you seem like a lot of negative things you didn't want to be associated with.

"Shut up and be patient," is the only thing you grumble in return, stuck in your never-ending thoughts of the possibilities that await you in two weeks.

Every day since you received the invitation, you've tried your hardest to ignore whatever painful squeeze would torment your heart at the memory of something you wished you could just forget. It's been two years. At this point, it's just pathetic to keep holding on to the past. But you still smelled him everywhere, heard his songs in places you wished you visited with him. Hell, you can't even buy fruit sticks without nitpicking which flavors to get because you knew it was his favorite and the fact that with the amount of times you've eaten them with him, they've been yours too.

"I'd let you be if you weren’t dragging me into this," he deadpans at the end of the line, voice filled with so much exasperation you almost gave in and ended the call. But he owed you this. He hasn't visited you in 3 months when he was supposed to every other month, and he knows this. That's why he grumbles at you.

Sighing for what feels like the fiftieth time, you lower your voice just as another woman passes you by. "I know. I just don't want to be underdressed," you frown at your phone, pulling a silver mini dress from the selection before thrusting it back in with a heavy sigh

"At this point, you'll be overdressing. Just pick one, YN."

"I would if I could find a single cute one," you snap, moving from one side of the boutique to the other. Why do none of these stores have good dresses for weddings? First, you're sent a wedding invitation you didn’t see coming. Second, it happens in a few weeks and you're rushing to find tickets that will work. Third, you don't have a dress. If a miracle was ever going to happen to you, you'd want it to be now.

"This is the—what? Fifth? Sixth?—store you've been in. Just pick one," there's shuffling and a loud groan on the end of the line, keys tapping like he can't wait to get you out of the phone with you and carry on with his plans.

You don't rush it, though. He's clearly being dramatic. An hour is hardly any time for you to pick a dress on such short notice. The invitation arrived just two weeks before the wedding. Where does that leave you? A whole lot of panicking and not enough time. Not to mention the fact that you don't have a dress, you're stressed enough as it is trying to pick the earliest flight possible back to Japan or else you'll never make it. If he was in the situation and in need of a suit, you're pretty sure you would have waited five hours helping him pick one if he asked. Still, this is him you're dealing with. If anyone's impatient, that was him.

"Oh my God," you shriek into the phone quietly, earning the eyes of the ladies in the shop as you pull out a flowy beige choker maxi dress. The low cut on the side and the lack of material on the back create just enough flair and elegance to the plain design of the dress. A line of crystals goes along the edge of the cloth on the neck while the belt cinches your waist to further accentuate the flow of the fabric. It was perfect. "Oh my fucking God."

"What? What is it? What now?"

"I found it," you breathe almost dreamily, arms hugging the dress to your chest as you walk your way towards the fitting room. "It's so perfect."

"Thank God," he sounds just as happy as you do, both for the fact that this whole thing he's forced to come along with is over and the revelation that you finally found a dress you loved. He knows you've been stressing over it. He knows there's an invisible pressure that tells you you should look your best or else everyone would think you led a miserable life.

It wasn’t like you didn’t maintain contact with the guys. You did, and it was almost inevitable with how they all trained for the Olympics or were under the same League. A conversation with one of them was a conversation with all of them. But it wasn't the type of contact that tells them what's happening with your life recently. They knew you didn't want to talk about it.

Easy to say, you dreaded having to go home. Of having to look at the faces you tried to escape for a reason. Of going back just to see everything has changed. Of going home and seeing your dress had been too below the standards of such a beautiful and upscale wedding. And you weren’t escaping them because your heart was broken. You were escaping them because it was embarrassing to look back. To remember the state you'd been in two years ago and how it ruined your winters. To have been so broken once that you had to leave all of them by themselves without notice. It wasn’t a past you were proud of. While the cracks of your heart have finished mending, there was a dark fear wrapping itself around you.

The fear of seeing everyone again and seeing how the look on their faces has changed. The fear of seeing the places you've been hurt in and them bringing back all you've tried to escape. The fear of the unknowns and how you would deal with them.

Two years was both short and long at the same time. While there probably wasn't much going on for you, you couldn't say the same for the others. There was the Olympics, more matches than you can count with your fingers, relationships, weddings, children. Your story, however, is easy to follow: You left Japan at 24, boarded the plane to London, lived with a small sweets shop you opened on a whim while continuing work at home in the Engineering company you worked for back in Japan, met and dated a few guys, broke up and canceled meetups too many times, refused visits but you couldn't refuse them for one person who was too persistent, and got wedding invitations

All of that, you remember to repeat in your head for the next two weeks until you've boarded the plane and started driving to your house. Across from it, the same lightless bedroom window blinks at you. On his driveway, the same sleek, black sedan rests even though the owner is nowhere to be found.

You tried hard not to look for him everywhere but you couldn't help it. You saw him in your running shoes, a reminder of when you used to run laps around the park together. You remember him in your duvets—his scent gone with the two years that went but it hardly felt like it when his presence still fills your senses. Back home, every flower, every sun seemed a bit duller than it was in London. You wonder if it's because this place is filled with darkness and pain—your one salvation and light in all of it someplace not beside you.

The dress you bought itches in all the wrong places. Too tight on your breasts, too loose on your waist. Yet all of those could just be an imagination too. Nothing feels right today. The beautiful weather makes you feel clammy. There's an unspoken anxiety bubbling in your stomach as you approach the venue. You're trying hard to be happy about this wedding. But there was absolutely nothing for you to smile about. It's not a happy event even if you try. It brings back everything you've avoided.

"Thought you'd never show up," a manly voice deadpans when you reach the gate, dressed in sleek black suit as he offers an arm to you—one you take with a smile as you lean on it.

"Can't have you looking like a loner," you tease in return, butterflies flooding your stomach at the sweet smile he gave you. Kiyoomi is just as handsome as he's ever been and even if the phone call two weeks ago sounded like he was tired of you, the longing on his face shows just how happy he really is to see you

Sometimes you can't help but wish you were still in love with him. Maybe this time would give both of you more chances. Since you knew him as he knew you, has been the only one to ever feel the same pain you did, and stuck by your side through it all, it makes you think this time would be different. Except, you've stopped feeling that way about him since a long time ago. Maybe in another life. In another universe, a whole different timeline, you’d be happy with him. Perhaps you’d both get past that time in your lives when you couldn’t admit how you felt for each other and just go into it and fall in love at the right place at the right time. But all that is wishful thinking. And you can tell with the way your eyes involuntarily glance around trying to catch a glimpse of someone you’d identify in the blink of an eye.

Still, who were you kidding?

You wouldn’t see him until the ceremony begins.

It’s impossible to catch a glimpse anywhere that isn’t at the end of the aisle.

Not when he plays a role big enough for you to fail avoiding. It blinked at you in bold on the invitation. You’d see him one way or another and you weren’t sure if you’d ever be ready for the image of him with another woman on his side. Someone who isn’t you. Someone who would probably never be you as two years is a time long enough for both of you to start acting like strangers. Like nothing ever happened. Like your hearts didn’t rip apart trying to love each other in a world and in a time where it was practically both wrong and impossible.

The decorations are beautiful. Camellias and daisies couldn't escape your vision even if you tried. The faint glow of the sun on the silky ribbons lining the columns is soft and fitting. There is a sweet scent in the air, perfumes mixed with hair sprays as relatives and people you didn’t recognize flock the grounds. Their hairs pinned to place, makeup dewy against their picture-perfect skins.

There is a bubble of envy that threatens to choke you and you almost cursed yourself loudly for having such unacceptable thoughts in such important celebrations. A couple is about to be tied together for eternity and all you can think about is how bitter you felt about the fact that this wedding wasn't yours. Twenty-six years is hardly an age for someone to be sulking at the fact that she's not married yet. But somehow, after everything that happened, your chances at true love seem even further than they used to be. You wonder how long you'll be hung up on the same guy and if you're ever gonna stop being petty enough to keep wishing ill on every happy couple you see.

Upon stepping into the most condensed part of the place, you could immediately see the mop of blonde hair whose eyes find yours with a quick sweep of his eyes—almost as if he could feel you staring at him. Nudging Omi with your elbows, he looks down at you before following your line of sight, chuckling to himself as he watches the interaction between you and the mad a couple of steps away. You had to bite your cheeks to stop smiling, the joy and amusement tugging a grin on your face as you watch the blonde raise eyebrows at you in suspicion before breaking out into a toothed grin and running towards both of you—crushing you into his arms before spinning you around.

"Fucking finally," he breathes against your neck, steadying you as laughter shakes your whole body. "Never thought I'd see ya again, disappeared on all 'o us."

Poking Atsumu's sides, he lets go of you while you look up at him with a huge grin. "I know. Sorry. I'm here now though, yeah?"

"Yeah? Omi wouldn't tell us when yer arriving, thought you'd never come at all," He shakes his head as he steps away to clasp hands with Omi, getting closer and patting each other's backs in a bro hug.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," you exhale, linking your arms with him as he leads both you and Omi to a more secluded place—far from the commotion so you could talk better.

He looks good in his Brioni suit. Hair slicked back and leaning a lot more on the dirty blonde side than the one he had two years ago when he'd always be made fun of for sporting a brighter shade. You're pretty sure he looks a lot bigger and buff this time too, his hard chest visible through the thin material of his dress shirt. Nothing's changed at all with his whole personality, though. He still feels like he would do something stupid to mess the whole ceremony up out of boredom and his arm on your shoulder still feels as playful and brotherly.

"How's London?"

"Busy," you shrug mindlessly, smiling at one of the Inarizaki team players you recognized in greeting as he passes you by with his girlfriend on his arm. Is every single one of the people here happy and taken? "And cold, wet. You're not missing much."

"Still sucks ya didn’t let us come visit, though," Atsumu whines, crossing his arms to lean on a wall while giving Kiyoomi a glare—something the latter ignored. "What, ya hidin'  some secret husband and kid in there?"

Dry amusement fills you, laughing humorlessly at the statement. You are the loneliest person at this wedding. A husband and a kid is something quite impossible to achieve in such little time. But still, "I wish," you tell him with a sigh.

"Don't. Weddings suck."

"You're only saying that 'cause you're not best man," you throw your head back, eyes looking around to take in the full view of the house. It's a beautiful house. Big and Mediterranean style. You guess they make that much money as professional players of the league but still, it's incredible to think he could afford this. Just like that, it's as if what you said just dawned on you. "Wait, why aren't you best man?"

You've been meaning to ask the question since you've landed but it seems you're too preoccupied thinking about other things, it completely slipped your mind. The letters blinking at you when you opened the invitation, the huge name of the couple with their bridesmaids, maid of honor, and best man in bold was enough to throw you off—seeing his name and realizing you couldn't escape not looking at him. But after that is the confusion and curiosity as to why the twin of the groom isn't the best man.

Atsumu looks like he'd rather be doing anything, anywhere than answer that question. Apparently, it's a touchy subject. You doubt it's because of some major conflict they couldn't resolve—especially not when he's attending the wedding. It probably has more to do with him pissing the groom off at the last minute. That or Osamu has just set his eyes on his best friend being his best man. After all, you think it'd be a bit weird for the groom and best man to look alike

"You could ask that ass Su—"

"Miya," Omi warns in a tone that immediately makes the blonde twin shut his mouth, eyes quickly founding yours in apology while you pinch Kiyoomi's arm. You get he's just looking out for you. He's seen you at your worst. But at the same time, you felt embarrassed having to be thought of as someone who holds grudges. One who can't move on.

For God's sake, this is a wedding!

A wedding and you're ruining everything by refusing to talk about that man like he's Voldemort. Like one mention of his name would send you collapsing

Before Atsumu could open his mouth in apology, you shut him down with a heavy sigh. "Don't. It's okay."

He stays silent for a few seconds, evaluating the look on your face before deciding it's for a matter of fact he's no longer stepping into the land mine called Sakusa Kiyoomi. "Yeah, well, what kind of brother doesn't choose his brother as the best man?" He scoffs unbelievingly. "Can ya imagine that? I'm his twin too!"

"Exactly for that reason, Miya," Kiyoomi retorts, cracking his knuckles. "You're too loud."

"Absolutely."

Atsumu turns his head in astonishment, "I thought ya two were on my side?"

♡

You don't remember the ceremony at all.

People walked the aisle. Little girls throw little flowers. A golden retriever gains wholesome laughter from everyone as it twirls around with a flower crown on its head.

You sat near the very back. Despite Atsumu's protest since, according to him, it was too humiliating to sit in front and not be the best man. You see the hairs of the boys on the front row but you don't let your eyes wander any further than that.

As much as possible, your eyes will not fall on the six-foot-four man donning an Armani suit with half of his hair gelled back while the other half falls on his perfectly sculpted cheekbones. No matter what, you wouldn't let your eyes stay on his long enough to see if he's looking at another woman in the crowd—the last straw to break you apart. You couldn't stand to see him happy. Moving on be damned, you don't even care anymore

Arriving at the air-conditioned tent for the afterparty, Omi squeezing the life out of your hands as an attempt for comfort, you immediately spot a waving Bokuto—all teeth and grin as he sits beside a very fine-looking Akaashi. Hinata and Atsumu are talking among themselves while Kageyama drinks his wine, politely shaking his head to women who whisper in his ear.

"Glad to see you back," Tobio hugs you to his side with one arm in greeting when you approach the table—the others following suit.

Like you didn’t disappear on them for two years, none of them mention it or the fact that they definitely knew the reasons why. There's a tickle in your brain wondering where he is but you suppose he had better things to do as the best man...  Or maybe someone else to do. You didn’t miss the way the bridesmaids all blink lovingly at him in his position up front. He practically had the whole crowd to choose from. You were just another fish in the sea.

Pushing away the thoughts of him is nearly impossible when you know he's just here somewhere. Mentioning his name felt like a dangerous territory everyone at the table is avoiding. Yet all it does is remind you of him. Like a stupid itch that couldn't be scratched, it nags at you. The wine is doing nothing to keep the thoughts of him at bay. You hoped engaging in conversations with the others will serve as some type of catalyst to keep you distracted—but that's futile too.

You like to believe you're way stronger than your urges and you're better than someone who looks for a man she hasn't talked to in years. So, instead of going crazy mulling over it, you convince yourself that everything will be okay. That it's just the memories of this country bringing back things you wished you could forget.

However, like some type of twisted fate has been cast upon you who has been begging for peace of mind, someone called his name and it was like everything you've built started crumbling down. Like you were suddenly exposed and cold and weak. You've avoided his name very well so far like it was the plague. Your friends are kind enough not to mention it to you. There was a weight between those syllables that could drag you down—even if you didn't want to admit it.

Right now, with his name being shouted across the tent in laughter while they call him over from where he is, the invisible pull had you make the mistake of glancing over to see where he is. Crushing every expectation you had for yourself to pieces. There's no point hiding it anymore. Everyone knew you loved him as you did two years ago. There's no saving face now because you could feel the thump in your chest growing louder. The sting in your eyes only possible because you ache to lift your eyes and find him before whoever it was calling him does.

You didn't even have to look long at all.

Your eyes snap to where he is almost as if you knew he'd be there—without a doubt. If the people on your table noticed it, they didn't say anything. Or maybe they did. But your ears are ringing and you didn't have it in you to comprehend anything else at the moment. Thing is, he's there. Right at the bar, long legs touching the ground while he holds the glass from the top—golden-colored liquid going down his throat as he throws his head back.

When he brings it down, your gaze connects

Like he knew you'd be there too.

You dread the heat that spreads in your stomach. You didn’t want to still be in love with him. It scares you how much he's made a place in your heart. It's terrifying how two years seem like two days with him. Your skin still flutters where he touched you.

You hated it.

But at the same time, a wave of relief flows through you.

You can still feel.

The issue didn't lie in your inability to ever love again.

The issue was with everyone else because they weren't him.

They would never be him.

What scared you most before seeing him was the fact that maybe the experience took away your ability to love. Maybe you couldn't feel as much as you wanted to again because two heartbreaks in a row gave love a bad meaning to you. You hated the idea that maybe he meant so little to you, two years would be enough time to forget all about it. The thought of the best love of your life not making you feel the way you feel right now as you look at him is unwelcomed—because you knew you loved him with everything you had, it was the type of love impossible to ever not make you feel.

The lump in your throat forces you to bite your lip, his eyes immediately following the movement. And just as soon as it happened, he's looking at you in the eyes again. With an expression you couldn't decipher, you wonder if a girl he's with is holding him back from acting like you knew each other. If he told her about you and seeing you with him is going to cause the same complications your relationship suffered. After all, how easy would it be to walk the twenty steps separating you?

At the same time, as you wonder about that, you can't help but ask yourself if you are ready for it. If you could handle being so close to him, you could smell his cologne. If hugging him in greeting would make you wish he would hold you tight again. Were you ready to hear his voice again if he would tell you he's happily in a relationship again? Could you find it in you to be happy that he's happy while you miserably pine for him?

Unable to take everything going on both in your head and surroundings, you press your palms flat on the table—pushing yourself up and offering no excuse as you make your way out of the tent.

The fountain in the front yard, far away from the tents and commotion with only a few pairs of people taking pictures and wandering around, you take a seat on the space around it. Your back suffers from the cold evening air blowing into your damp skin as water splashes lightly on the bare area.

Just a few minutes later, you feel him before you see or hear him. His presence commands the ten-foot radius around him so it wasn't a surprise.

That and the force pulling you to him.

Like you still belong to him and he belongs to you.

"YN."

Your name fell from his lips so easily, it sent shivers all over your skin. The heat of his body makes you forget the cold you've been complaining about just a while ago. He still smells exactly like two years ago. He sat so closely next to you—a single move of his pinky and he'd be touching your skin.

You respond with a small and quick nod, not trusting your words to deliver what you wanted to say. Besides, maybe not speaking would be the ideal course to take right now. You didn’t want to say anything you'd regret.

He waits for you to say something. Anything. But when you don't, he decides he'll continue the one-sided conversation. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," you quietly mumble, unable to help the blush spreading through your cheeks. "You too. You look really great."

He laughs at that, head throwing back from what you can see at the corner of your eyes before he brings it back down to slightly angle his body to your side. "You won't even look at me," there's humor in his tone when he says that but it disappears just as quickly as it came when he continues, "Are you afraid of what you'll see?"

That puts your bouncing knee to a stop. Not even the amount of nerves could have stopped you from going still at what he said. Did he think you didn't want to see him? That it was going to bring back the painful memories and that's why you couldn't stand to look at him so closely?

"Not at all," you shake your head, tongue darting out to wet your drying lips. "Quite the opposite actually. I'm afraid of what I wouldn't see."

That you didn’t love me anymore. That you didn’t have the heart to wait for me when I left you alone. That the beautiful, blonde maid of honor is actually your girlfriend now and you're just here to say hi was what you actually wanted to say. But you stop yourself. No point telling him you love him still and getting no response.. again. He couldn't even say he loved you to your face then. And while you understood where he was coming from, you didn’t think you could handle another rejection.

"Look at me," he commands, voice soft and clear. You don't know what it is about his voice that made you abandon all the reason you were building in your head just a moment ago that made you turn your head to him—but you did. And from the first glance you took at his golden-green eyes, you could already tell everything was different.

He looks way happier. Better. Like he's not tied by a past that wouldn't let him move. There's a beautiful gleam you don't think you've ever seen from him even in your happiest moments together. You don't even know how you've been able to tell. Maybe you spent too much time looking at his eyes without realizing it. Apparently, it was possible for the color of his eyes to look a lot more beautiful than what you remember from it. You almost feel a rough kick of disappointment in your stomach with the way he looks to be in a much better place, dealing with all of this way better than you did in those two years.

But all of those weren't the only thing you could see in his eyes and as his next words knocked all the air out of you, you know you weren’t wrong in your assumptions.

"YN," he whispers, holding your eyes as a ghost of a small smile threatens the corner of his lips. "I love you."

Shit.

He just said he loves you.

In your face.

"Rin," you breathe out in an attempt to speak, nothing but a whisper escaping you. "I can't be hallucinating right now from the amount of champagne I drank, right?"

"I love you, YN," he completely ignores your question with another throw of those three words as fast as he could. Like he couldn't wait for you to hear the words already. "I loved you so much from the moment I saw you at National's cheering for the team against mine. I loved you when you sat at that park looking at another man longingly because he didn't fucking love you. I loved you when you said we should team-up. I loved you every other day that came after that and before this  YN. And I still love you more today than any other day that has come before it."

Your tears spill over before you could even register the amount of times he said I and love and you. His fingers wrap themselves around your wrist, pulling you to his chest where you melt in contentment. He pressed a kiss to your temples, arms snaking around your waist as he held you to him as close as he possibly could.

"Listen to me," he begins, arms tightening around you. "I'm not sure if you're in my arms tonight because you wanted to see me as much as I did or if this is some kind of final goodbye you're letting me have but I don't regret this, YN. I regretted a lot of things from two years ago but I don't regret telling you I waited for this wedding because I was hoping you'd still want to be mine. Hell, I'm not even sorry to say I fucking bought this suit, not because of 'Samu but because I knew I'd see you."

You listen to him mesmerized. At the beat of his heart on your ears, at his honesty, at the way he's holding you while he tells you he waited for this moment just as much as you did. You knew he had much more things to say but the urge overwhelms you, making you pull away from his embrace to press a kiss to his lips. Genuine, passionate, emotional. Your fingers finding his hair and running a finger to it. His hold on you gets firmer than it was before—like he's getting a reward he'd wanted for the longest time.

It was two years worth of the love you've saved up for each other.

He stops the kiss, pulling away from you to take in the look of your tear-stricken face. Reaching up to your cheeks, his fingers wipe the wetness on your face—pressing a forehead to you as he digs in his breast pocket to retrieve two small pieces of jewelry which he slips on your finger after his.

A silver ring just like the one he had two years ago with a line coloring the edges.

Except this time the color was a beautiful deep red that upon looking closely, wasn't a simple stripe of color. It was a smooth line of red gems going around the ring.

Garnet.

His birthstone.

A thought passes through your head, making you flinch as you don't realize you've said the words out loud before it's too late, "Is it anything like the meaning of the last ring you had?"

When the words slip past your mouth, you immediately regret you've ruined the moment. You knew what their ring meant and you were jealous, to this day, to think about them sharing something like that. You hated thinking about her but it wasn't a secret she meant a lot to him, even if it was born of her psychotic and obsessive tendencies. You wonder if this ring meant he treasured you as much as he did her. You hope he does. That's why you're asking. But now, after realizing how it may sound, there's suddenly a creeping fear in your chest that tells you you shouldn't have said that.

Looking up from the ring on your finger to Rin, the smile on his face tells you everything you needed to know. You didn’t ruin everything. And her name or the memories of her would no longer ever be enough to come in between you.

"Her rings are nothing like ours," he shakes his head, clasping your hands together to see the rings pressing against one another when your fingers are intertwined. The fact that he said her rings and not theirs made you squeeze his fingers, an action that made him smile. "Her ring is a constant reminder of the past I kept trying to escape. A past I was fucking tied to and hated. Our ring is a promise I'd love you through whatever future it leads us. It's for a future I'd want to seal with you. Don't compare it to something as fucking cheap as those rings, baby."

You laugh at his tone through the tears, his own lips quirking up at the sight of your smiling face. The past few weeks since the last time he saw you, he'd never been able to see you smile as beautifully as you do now. Suddenly, Suna's thankful for the two years you left him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have seen how beautiful you looked tonight. You're just as stunning as he remembered you to be.

"I'm sorry it took me all those years," he begins, voice heavy like he's recounting every bad memory. "I hurt you so much. Made you cry. Couldn't even tell you I love you in your face then, yeah? Talk about a pussy."

"Yeah, you were."

"Well, fuck," he exhales like he couldn't believe you just insulted him before laughing and pulling you to his lap—startling you with a small squeal before he noses your jaw. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Rin," and when you say it back to him, finally, after he's able to say it to your face, Suna feels like he could do just about anything. Just then, while riding from the high of hearing you love him from your lips, a thought crosses his mind—making him smile against your skin as his fingers trace your waist.

"You love me," he says as a matter-of-fact, like he's confirming it with you again just after two seconds of you saying it. You didn’t really see the purpose of it but still, you nodded. Perhaps he wanted to hear it over and over again after missing it for two years.

"I do," you confirm.

Just where is this going?

Then, it all clicks to you.

"How about we work together and get what we both want?" The playful glint on his eyes when you pull away reminds you of the whole thing that started it two years ago. Of how you walked up to him in that café, accused him of loving Omi's girl, and laying the plan on his table. He'd said the exact same words back at you.

You smile sheepishly back at him.

This asshole played an Uno reverse card on you.

"Isn't that dangerous?" You bite back, throwing his words back at him—the night after that party when he'd first had you in his bed and let you drive his car to the convenience store. He watches your face, nothing but love seeps through his pores with every change in your expression. He feels so much for you it hurts his whole body.

"Not when I'd give you the whole fucking world if you asked," he shakes his head, fingers poking your sides and laughing before his face turns serious again—trying to convey the emotions overflowing in his chest. "I really fucking would. Anything you ask of me."

"I know," you tell him, eyes stinging for what's probably the fifth time tonight before you tease him with a smile, "Start with not making me cry. You're ruining my makeup."

"Oh, baby," he scoffs, shaking his head before throwing you a smile just as charming as the one you're giving him. "You'd never have to cry for me again."

The End.

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