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OMIOMIOMIOMIOMIOMIOMIOMIOMIOMIOMIOMIOMIOMI

GOD THIS IS LITERALLY ME WITH HIM SHUT UPPPP

He knows you’re excited for the trip too, but god the way you’re literally bouncing off the walls and running around like a dog about to go on a walk is so bizarre to him.

“You know I’m just a dude, right?” He asks when you bite his jawline while he folds his underwear. “Like. I’m just a guy.”

“You’re my guy,” you assure. “You’re my dude. I want to be next to you forever. And now we’re gonna get to sit next to each other for at least six hours.” You beam up at him so intently he thinks you’re gonna pull a muscle. “How are you not excited!”

“I am, I just find it endearing that you’re more excited for the plane ride to the trip, rather than the trip.”

“Because I love you.”

You went to bed before Kiyoomi.

You never do that. Ever since you’ve moved in with him, your nights end with a massive pile of cuddling limbs and sweet words of sticky nothings that have you cocooned and ready for a peaceful night.

But tonight, he snapped at you. Something about being too “irate” over “something small.”

He missed dinner. And normally, that wouldn’t be a massive issue for you. But he was with asshole of a PR member who’s been trying to get with him for months, calling themselves his “work babe.” Who were you to think nothing funny wasn’t going down?

It's not a lack of trust from Kiyoomi that has you choked up. It's a lack of trust with them.

You know more than anyone when kindness turns to love, it's the same thing that happened between you both, and it kills you to think they could preform the same spell and potentially take your man from you.

You tell yourself that if they can take him, they can have him.

But the idea hurts none the less.

It hurts enough where you're curled up on your side of the bed, far from Kiyoomi's, where his smell lingers and the coldness on your body isn't offset by his warmth like it usually is. You whimper and bury your face in the meat of your pillow when you hear the front door open, and a soft call of your name follows. You didn't even know he left, to be frank, but you don't say anything as he stalks into the bedroom with another call of your name.

"Are you awake?"

"Am now," you murmur.

"Can we please talk about things?" He sounds desperate, like he knows this is killing you, weighing you down like a sac of bricks and keeping you from him.

"You talk," you say, nodding into your pillow. "I have nothing to say."

"Okay. I understand."

A muscular arm reaches over your frame to reach for your hand, and when you don't put up a fight to keep his hand away, he sighs shakily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, linking his pinkie finger with yours. You screw your eyes shut and sniffle, and you hear him swallow thickly. “I was just so upset to know that you were right to worry-“

“What?”

“Wait- No!” He says quickly, panic in his voice. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” He’s never been good with his words. You let him continue, your heart sinking into your stomach all the same. He sighs shakily, “I meant that you were right about me being here. I should’ve been. We haven’t had dinner together in weeks, and I just… I got so caught up in new sponsorships and gigs that I wanted more, and I thought they had more to give.”

“They want you, Kiyoomi,” you mumble. “I see it. It’s the same way I bugged you when we first started dating, just to show how much I liked you. They’re doing that.”

“I know,” he sighs. Then, he pauses, squeezing your pinky, “I went to talk to them. Told them if they couldn't keep it professional and cut the shit, they can search for other clients. Because I don't want them making either of us uncomfortable anymore. And even if they did want me, I don't care.” He crawls over to you and bends slightly to have his head dangling in front of you, curls flipping upside down at the action. “Because I want you.”

You snort at the sight.

“So can we please cuddle, and you grab my teeth or sniff me or whatever feral thing you usually do?” He asks, leaning forward to kiss you on the nose. “Miss your stupid affections.”

“I miss giving them to you,” you say, moving a finger up slowly to try and pick his nose, just to make him squirm, a sign of a truce. He grunts and whips his head back, letting your laughter fill the room, rather than your tears. When you feel him sit back on his side of the bed, you take your time in flipping over, finally meeting his dark eyes again, filled with hope and adoration that has you falling in love with him all over again.

"You are irresistible," you say, reaching for his hand again.

"Don't care. I don't want anyone looking at me if it means you and I never fight again."

You laugh and gently kiss his hand, flicking your gaze up at him, "we'll go look at paper bags for you to wear this weekend."

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking over the swells lovingly.

"It's a date."

[22:36] sakusa (trying to) move on

warnings mentions of death

other timestamps

he gazed on her side of the bed, tightening his grip on the duvet, reaching out his free hand as if the ghost of her would appear into the tips of his calloused fingers.

the night would haunt his consciousness and he spent days sleepless, slowly going into a frenzy as if there were no hope. the gravitational force of a being that kept him on his toes had vanished into an unexpected collision with his last memories of her being a voicemail in which she apologises for her mistakes.

truly, he wish he didn't argue with her the night before, he wish he didn't pin the blame on her, he wish he had apologised and made up for his mistakes as she crumbled on her side of the bed, unbeknownst of tomorrow's events.

a part of his body felt like it was rotting away, decomposing as his beloved had done so six feet underground. payback for what he had done. no remorse in the world could ever bring her back and the vacant right side of the bed had constantly reminded him so.

yet the next morning he arrived into practice, as if the days never changed, like she had never left his side. avoiding the leering eyes of his teammates, he sat down on the bench and began to unpack the necessities for today's practice.

“omi, it hasn't been a month yet, we told you to take a break. go home, yeah?” atsumu plops himself a good distance from sakusa, but close enough so that no one else can hear their conversation.

“i know, but she's not there.”

a/n: stream folklore <3

.when you were mine - sakusa kiyoomi

.pairings sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader

.genre angst, break up, lovers to exes, hurt no comfort

.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