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imaginethathaikyuu · 1 year

Text

separating

atsumu miya x fem!reader

from this request

featuring: childhood friends to starcrossed lovers, college!au, reader wants to be a hometown teacher, atsumu wants to go pro, history major!atsumu, sports injury, angst, break ups, canon divergent, you and atsumu are lovesick fools, arguments, comfort, i dont know how injuries or college or sports work i’m a theatre kid turned college dropout, i made it up, i made all of it up,

im back baby

word count: 6854

You were six and Atsumu was seven. The sky was clear, the air had a crisp chill, and the ground underneath you was uncomfortable, but you could lay on that blanket in the grass next to him forever.

His arm came into your view, pointing up at the sky.

“Bet you can’t guess what constellation I’m pointing at.”

You closed one eye, giggling as you looked up his arm toward the end of his finger to find the stars right behind it.

“The Big Dipper?”

“Orion’s Belt,” he said. “See it? The three stars in a row?”

“No!” You were laughing and he was scolding you like a parent.

“It’s right there! It’s staring you right in the face, just look!”

“I see it! The three stars in a row, I see it.”

You didn’t see it - you looked and looked for the rest of the night and never found it. But you said you did, anyways, like it was for his sake.

“You should just make up your own constellations, since you can’t find the real ones.”

“I can find more than you!”

“In your dreams!”

“Whatever - I’ll just let you win so you’ll feel better.”

You could almost hear the boy pouting as you laughed, and you were being loud enough that the neighbors could hear, but you didn’t care. The whole world felt like yours when you were laying under the stars with him.

After that it was quiet, all but the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking and the occasional owl’s hoot - so, it wasn’t quiet at all.

“We should sleep out here every night,” Atsumu said, almost whispering.

“Every night? Forever? Even when we’re grown up with houses and big beds?”

“Well, maybe not ‘til then -”

“We could just make our ceiling a big window. That way we can still see the stars when we’re going to bed.”

“But I want my own room, I’m not sharing with you.”

“You have to share!”

He huffed a breath out loud, “are you gonna be like this forever?” and you laughed.

“If I know you forever, then, yeah. Are you gonna let me know you forever?”

“I guess.”

You lifted your arm up straight in the air, the same way he did when he pointed at the stars, with only your pinky up.

“Promise?”

“Ugh.”

“Promise, or I’ll cry.”

Even though you were laughing, and you were only trying to annoy him, a part of you was being serious. Because when you’re a kid, forever means something and so do pinky promises.

“Fine!”

And he stuck his arm out and wrapped his pinky around yours and squeezed. You looked up and saw your promise in the air surrounded by all of the stars in the sky, and thought of it as your own constellation. One only you could see.

- // -

It was so cold outside that you felt it in your fingers and your nose, with a burning in your chest to match. Walks home during December were menacing; your boots hurt your feet, your beanie made your forehead itch, and your jacket was too big.

You hated winter.

The overcast day made everything seem so muted; even if you wanted to be in a cheery mood, this weather wouldn’t let you.

But you were finally home, and when you turned up the sidewalk, Atsumu busted through your front door and came running toward you with a piece of paper in each hand. The fact that you didn’t question why he came running out of your home was a testament to your friendship.

“I got in,” he said, shoving an acceptance letter in your face. “And so did you.”

Suddenly all the dreams you had felt palpable. You didn’t have to keep whispering your goals like secrets underneath blanket forts - you could take the steps and achieve them. Atsumu could play for a college volleyball team; you could finally get a serious education.

And that felt like the first day of forever. Two matching letters from Atsumu’s university of choice, the one you’d made a compromise for, is what cemented your next four years with him.

Four years could feel like forever, if the time drags by slowly enough.

The only time you were confused about your relationship with Atsumu was when somebody else asked you about it.

“Do you know him?”

Because it was unspoken. There weren’t words or labels on it - just an invisible chain that kept you tethered to each other. And you didn’t know what to call it - you’d never called it anything.

The girl next to you gestured to the boy in the other room, who stood with a ping pong ball in his hand.

You played ignorant. “Who? The blond?”

She giggled and nodded. “Atsumu?”

You shrugged, not really knowing what to say, because you had shown up to this party with the boy and you still hadn’t gotten used to no longer having the high school reputation of being together.

“We’re friends,” you said.

Atsumu was your best friend and you always thought that was enough. To you, it was. But friends ask questions and family pushes into your business and you never have answers that satisfy, because there wasn’t an answer to give.

And you wished he was there now, because you weren’t good at sitting on couches surrounded by faces you didn’t know. For some reason at parties like these there were always separate groups - girls in the living room with their drinks and the gossip, boys in the kitchen with the beer pong and their arguments. You never knew most of the party but usually got drunk enough to tell them all you loved them by the end of the night, although the alcohol wasn’t helping how awkward you felt tonight.

You sat in silence with the girl who was on her phone, looking around the room that was casted in a purple glow. Music you didn’t like was blasting from a TV mounted on the wall and someone’s dog was sitting at your feet and your drink was getting warm in the bottle and you felt like you were all by yourself.

Red light was pouring from the kitchen and you stared at Atsumu who was bathed in it. He’d thrown and missed his shot in the time you were mulling over being alone.

“You’re all over his Instagram,” your party friend said. “Like, in every picture. Are you with him?”

“We grew up together, we’re like - friends, good friends.”

She laughed at your rehearsed response. “Are you getting it or not?”

And you laughed with her because you felt like you had to. “No, god no, stop.”

Her next question was interrupted by someone calling your name, and you snapped your head towards it and nearly ran to the one it came from.

“Let’s play,” Atsumu said when you stepped foot in the room. He took your hand and placed a ping pong ball in it. “We’re gonna smoke Aran and his girlfriend.”

“You know I hate playing with you.”

“Come on, babe, just one game.”

One game always turned into half a dozen, and Atsumu was always too competitive for it to be fun.

But you would play anyway. And Atsumu wouldn’t bother waiting for your response before getting the first round going.

“You ready to lose to my girl, Aran?”

Were you friends? Were you more than that? Were you somewhere in the middle?

The answer to all of those questions was yes and no.

It felt like a secret you were keeping. A relationship that was only yours, that confused everybody else.

Atsumu once called you his security blanket. And it made you laugh, but you understood what he meant. He was an anchor. Something strong to hold you up. That’s what he was.

Even after you started holding hands in secret, or when he became your first kiss because you were too scared to kiss anybody else, he stayed your best friend. You never thought about it any more than that.

That’s why you did everything together, because you couldn’t imagine doing anything without him. Life was easier when you weren’t doing it alone, and having him around seemed to make university life manageable.

While your first year was a lot of parties and adjustment, the second year brought talks about the future and a side to Atsumu you hadn’t seen before.

Atsumu was an achiever. He’d get whatever he wanted and he would make it look easy. And whenever he told you about all of his big dreams, you told him that you believed in him, because you did. So maybe you were stupid for thinking that college would be forever.

It was late at night, too late for someone with class in the morning to still be awake, but Atsumu kept you up.

He’d been sleeping in your bed more often. He claimed it was more comfortable than his own - you knew he was lying, but you didn’t question it. Just like you didn’t question the way his chest was pressed to your back every morning.

That’s where he was now. “I gotta start planning, babe,” he said. There was still too much space between your bodies but you didn’t move to change it.

“Planning for what?” you asked with a laugh.

“The future,” he said. “Like - I’m pretty sure I’ll make a Division 1 team, but that’s not the goal, right? I could play for the Olympics one day, if I play my cards right, but - I mean, I don’t even know how I’m gonna get there. It’s not like there’s a map to follow. The coach from the Tokyo team has been scouting, so I guess that’s a good direction to go…”

He spoke candidly, almost like nobody was listening. Like he was treating this conversation as a diary entry. It was the same way he spoke about his dreams of the future when you were kids.

He turned his head and looked over at you. “What’re you gonna do?”

You shrugged, and you tried holding back the smile that was growing on your face. “I dunno, Atsumu. I… think I wanna go back home.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Maybe I’ll teach at an elementary school at home. I think I would like that.”

He pouted a little at that, and all of his thoughts were written on his face.

“You don’t wanna follow me to Tokyo?”

“You could follow me,” you laughed. He laughed too, and the conversation ended there when you scooted close to him. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you in.

“I gotta stop thinking so much. It’s bad for my head.”

But he picked the conversation back up a few days later, as if he had just thought of something to say in response to your made up plans for your future.

“I just think you should try to do more,” he said. You were both walking home from his volleyball practice.

“What do you mean?”

“More than going back home and being a teacher.” He pulled his backpack higher on his shoulder. “I mean, don’t you wanna move somewhere cool? Have a big life? Be a little spontaneous?”

“What made you think I wanted any of those things?��

“I don’t know.” He looked over at you and you couldn’t decipher the look he gave. “We’ve only got a couple years left. I guess, I just thought…”

You waited for him to continue, and sometime in the silence your hand latched onto his out of habit.

“I just think you’re capable of more, is all.”

You shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, I know I could do a lot of things. But maybe I want something comfortable. And I’ve become more passionate about teaching than I thought I would - I think it would make me happy. I know it will.”

“You could be a teacher anywhere, though.”

You had a feeling you understood what he meant.

But this isn’t something you could compromise on. You wouldn’t make this decision on impulse; you weren’t going to follow him to a city you didn’t want to go to.

Your goals weren’t as grand as his, but they were still yours.

You stepped closer to him, knocking your shoulders together. “I want to go home. I wanna be with my family - I want to have a classroom full of my friend’s kids one day. I don’t want something cool or spontaneous.”

Then he pulled you even closer, and your footsteps got caught up with his. It was an awkward walk but you were comfortable being pressed into him.

“Then you should do that. I was just making sure you knew what you wanted, that’s all. If that’s what you want… go for it, babe.”

For the first time you saw a life on the horizon that didn’t have Atsumu in it, and you weren’t sure how you should feel about it. Atsumu had always been in the picture - nothing ever felt right without him.

Maybe it was that familiar comfort that brought the two of you so close. But as you got older that simplicity waned and in its place grew something more; it was intimate and flirtatious and free.

And it wasn’t innocent, it wasn’t pure. It landed somewhere close to romance but not quite.

You let him flirt with you because it felt natural until you started to like it too much. Unspoken emotions rushed in all at once - ones you shouldn’t be feeling toward a friend.

But he wasn’t just a friend. Both of you knew that.

And he wasn’t yours. Both of you knew that, too.

The more you thought about it, the more you hated all the time you had wasted. If you had known that things would work out this way - that Atsumu would be taking his path and you would be taking your own - you would have done everything differently. You wouldn’t be so content with being just friends who flirt and hold hands and sleep in the same bed.

And maybe you should have realized earlier that you were never really just friends with Atsumu. Your friendship was nothing more than the foundation for every risky thought you had about the boy. And everyone but you could see it.

Maybe what you were doing was intentional, and maybe you were seeking affection from him in your own secret ways, but did either of those things give you a right to be jealous?

When you saw him at a party with his hands on someone else’s hips, were you allowed to be angry about it?

You weren’t sure, but fury didn’t ask your permission to cloud your judgment, and tears welled in your eyes before you could tell them not to.

You were coming to terms with your own feelings, having wars in your mind over how to love him in a way that felt normal, and Atsumu didn’t even know. He wasn’t technically doing anything wrong because you weren’t his to take care of.

Even if he did sleep next to you every night.

And you didn’t want to be at that party anymore. And you didn’t want anything to change between you and your best friend, but your heart had made up its mind.

But there was only one way home and it was through him. For all he knew you were in the kitchen making the party yours - he had no idea you were across the room from him boiling in your own pitiful anger.

You could walk up to him and interrupt his good time and face him with your tears and shaky hands. Or, you could go outside, sit on the stoop, and let yourself be alone until he found you.

You chose the latter.

Stray tears were wiped away and you didn’t let any more follow. It was childish to cry; it was immature to be angry. You couldn’t even be honest with him, so how could you be so jealous without being ashamed? How could you blame him when he had only gone along with your silence?

You could tell him the truth, or you could regret holding it in forever.

By the time he found you out in the cold, you still hadn’t made up your mind, but you decided you still had time.

It was one of the last volleyball games of Atsumu’s sophomore season.

You watched from the stands, eyes trained on the only person on the court who mattered to you, as Atsumu fell onto the glossy gym floor and didn’t get back up.

It happened so fast that you missed it, and when more than a few seconds passed you stood up and yelled his name along with the shouting crowd.

His team crowded him, the coach rushed in, and all you could do was watch. Someone rolled him onto his back. He was holding his right arm to his chest and you swore his hand shouldn’t be bending in that direction when medics ran over and blocked your view.

Your heart was in your throat for the rest of the night. Doctors and x-rays and casts; silence from Atsumu, pestering questions from you, and calls to family. You didn’t relax until you got him back to your apartment.

When he breathed another deep sigh, you finally asked if he was okay.

“Just want to shower,” he said. His words sounded clipped.

“I’ll have to put your arm in a grocery bag or something.”

“I can do it myself.”

“Just let me help.” You were as insistent as you always were. “But I’m not giving you a bath, so you have to fend for yourself in there.”

He didn’t laugh at your joke. You weren’t expecting him to.

“You’ll be fine, Atsumu, you heard the doctors,” you called from the kitchen, “in six weeks you’ll be in physical therapy. It was the end of the season, anyway. You’ll be playing again in a couple of months.”

You caught him rolling his eyes. “You don’t understand how much every game and practice matters. You aren’t under the same pressure as me. You don’t get it.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s always a bedroom back home for you. Could use that degree you're getting, History Major.”

He didn’t like hearing that.

“Right. That’s what everyone expects, that nothing will work out for me - is that what you think, too?”

You shrugged, “Would that really be so bad?” You didn’t know you were walking on thin ice, but you should’ve.

He sat a little bit straighter and looked at you hard. “Yes. It would.”

“I just think you’d be fine if you didn’t end up going pro -”

“That’s what you think,” he said, almost calm before his voice raised, “but I’m not like you. I don’t have to settle for that fucking town. I don’t want to go back there and do nothing with my life like everyone else - don’t tell me what I’d be fine doing. You don’t get it.”

And you didn’t know what to say to that. You wanted to bite back - you had venom on the tip of your tongue. You knew the right words, how to dig deep enough to scar.

This is the first time it had really sunk in that all of Atsumu’s goals weren’t just pipedreams. He wanted something and he didn’t need your help getting it.

That, maybe, he thought less of you for your hometown goals. For not striving for more.

All the spoonfuls of sugar in the world wouldn’t help you swallow that.

You could hurt him back by saying something you didn’t mean, and maybe it would make you feel better, but it wouldn’t take away the truth. It wouldn’t make Atsumu stay with you after graduation. It wouldn’t make everything he said a lie.

You held it in because you had to. Even though you knew how to hurt him, even though you had a selfish need to hit him back, even though you wanted to lash out. You held it in.

“Just - fucking… put your arm in the bag and go shower.”

You wrapped his cast with the plastic bag and lots of tape in edgy silence. Then he went into the bathroom, and you sat outside of the door in case he called out for help. He didn’t.

His wrist ended up being fine. But you weren’t; months later, you were still reeling over that argument you had with him.

It was the proof you needed to pull yourself out of your head.

In two years, when you and Atsumu graduate, he’s going to Tokyo. And you aren’t.

You wondered what it would be like to follow him into succeeding his goals. Even though you thought it would be hard to say no, it was an easy decision to make.

You had a life you wanted to live, and so did he. But those lives weren’t the same - they were nearly opposites.

And you’d do anything he’d ask like it was doing yourself a favor. He knew it, too. But you wouldn’t drop your map to follow his. Even if all you wanted was a small life in comparison, it was still yours.

But you still had time to let yourself answer to his call.

Tonight, though, you were drinking because you wanted to. And you’d roped him into opening a bottle because you didn’t want to drink alone, because it was the weekend and the third year of university was busting your asses.

So you sat on the floor in your small apartment kitchen and drank from the same bottle of the corner store’s cheapest wine. When your hand fell into his it was an accident; when your legs became tangled it was on purpose.

Atsumu played a playlist you made for him while you were still in highschool, and it was quiet all but the music. It looked like a sad picture, but it wasn’t - it was comfortable. It was fun and simple and secure, and you’d love it if you never had to leave.

“What’s got you in this mood tonight?” he finally asked, with his head thrown back against the cabinet behind him and the wine bottle in his lap.

“Nothing,” you replied, honest. “Just want to be here with you.”

“Yeah?” He looked down at you, his face much closer than you remembered it being. You nodded and he tilted his chin up towards you, and you watched a smile grow on his face. “I wanna be here with you too.”

You couldn’t look at him for too long without getting a strain in your throat, and you blamed the wine for it.

But there were thoughts you couldn’t shake, that you needed to get out.

“Do you really think,” you started, laying your head on his shoulder as you cleared your throat and tried again, “Do you really think I’m… doing nothing with my life, by going back home?”

His posture straightened a bit at that.

“No,” he said. “Of course I don’t think that. About everyone else there, maybe, but not you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, babe.” He squeezed your hand, shook it a bit. “I just want you to be happy, baby, that’s it.”

You decided you liked his answer. It didn’t wash away any of your self doubt but it was good enough to drop the conversation in favor of taking another drink.

You sat like that for what could have been too long until you moved closer. Maybe it was the wine, or the simmering envy you never could shake, or the ticking fear of regret - it was probably all three that had you leaning in close and waiting to see what he would do.

Your noses brushed. You were breathing the same air, nervous shallow breaths that didn’t fill your lungs, blinking slow because you could hardly keep your eyes open. You wanted to keep looking at him but your eyes closed on instinct.

He said your name then nothing else. For just a second, he hesitated, kept you waiting, and then he fell slow into a crashing kiss. One that tasted bittersweet, like the alcohol in the wine.

He pulled away and asked, “You okay?” and instead of answering you kissed him again. You put your hand on his jaw and held him there so you could kiss him slow and soft for as long as you wanted because he was letting you.

You had kissed him before, but never like this. It was always a dare - it was never spontaneous. Despite years of flirting, touching, and pining, neither of you had ever made a move like this.

You let yourself mumble truths against his lips, things you’d only ever said in your head now falling onto his ears. And he said his own right back.

Emotion flooded in and washed away any tension. “I just want to be with you,” you said. You had his shirt in your fist, you had tears in your eyes.

“You’re with me,” he said with a bit of a laugh. “I’m all yours.”

“For now.”

You hoped he understood what you meant; he did.

“Yeah. We’ll make the most of it, then. Don’t think about anything else.” He took your hand and pulled it from its grip on his shirt, bringing it to his lips. “You just have to think about now.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It could be,” he said. “I’ll keep you distracted.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you close.

“I should’ve told you.”

“I already knew.”

He kissed you again, quick, just because he could. You shook your head as if it would make the way you felt go away.

“This is never going to work, is it?”

Atsumu didn’t reply.

“Because you’re going to Tokyo, and I’m not.” Your words had an unintentional bite. “It would be stupid to… to start dating now.”

“Yeah.”

His eyes held yours inside of them; neither of you moved to separate, both of you stayed trying to forget the words you’d said.

It was easier to forget. Because you still had time.

When you kissed again it was like two magnets attaching to each other. You kissed him and drank the wine until it was gone, until he pulled you onto your feet and into your room, and he slept next to you the same as always.

The next morning, you asked him to kiss you again. He did.

You had failed to make any relationship official with Atsumu - the two of you always favored unspoken rules.

But you had taken a liking to where you were now. A place where you could do anything you wanted with him, where he was yours and you were his and that was all that mattered.

You knew it wouldn’t be this way forever and that’s why you savored it so much.

It was hard not to get lost when seemingly everyone you knew was living a life you couldn’t - not currently, at least. All of your friends were engaged or pregnant or both, marking their futures before they could even see graduation, and jealousy settled deep in your stomach.

You didn’t want to be married. And you definitely didn’t want to have a child. But watching blooming relationships made you all too aware that what you had in your future was a break up. A broken heart. What you had now was fleeting.

You wanted permanence more than you had ever wanted anything.

And Atsumu had to remind you often that despite all of that, what you had now was real and it was worth it. It was hard to see it but he showed you; with his words and his lips and his heart.

“You’ll have me forever,” he told you, one morning when you decided to blow off class to stay with him. He had pressed you into the bed and had every intention of keeping you there. “I’d pull my heart out of my chest and give it to you if I could.”

“Normal boyfriends give rings, you know.”

He grinned wild, because you had never used that word before - never called him your boyfriend. You could tell he liked it.

“I’m not a normal boyfriend, I guess.”

You had never been this nervous walking into a room of people you didn’t know.

Atsumu had invited you to a sports banquet, because he couldn’t be the only one without a date on his hip. He wore all black and insisted you dressed to match; you felt good until you stepped into a stuffy conference room in your university’s sports building - a room you didn’t even know existed.

Atsumu stood tall. You tried your best to do the same, even though you were tripping on your high heels and pulling your hair out of your lip gloss every five minutes.

This celebration marked the end of Atsumu’s final college season, one that he led as team captain. And it was obvious that he was the man of the hour when he walked in.

Every conversation was interrupted by cheers, starting from his teammates then spreading to everyone else in the room. Claps and shouts and whistles all for the man at your side, and you couldn’t help cheering along when you saw the blush on his cheeks.

You let yourself forget about your nerves just long enough to feel proud of him. He smiled in a way he couldn’t hold back - in a way that told you he was proud of himself.

When he became surrounded by a group of his friends and teammates you found yourself being pushed away - not by him, but by the atmosphere itself. You didn’t know how to share a spotlight that was all his, and you didn’t want to.

You were on the outside looking in. Looking at this man who used to be a boy in your backyard, who you knew to be clever and loud and sparkling. You always knew he was the life of the party but you had never seen him so… polished. Shaking hands and sharing polite compliments as if it was his job, even with ones who were his friends.

There were important people here tonight. People he was putting on a mask for.

And you felt selfish all of a sudden, because you knew him better than any of these people here. You loved him more than all of them combined. Atsumu didn’t have to hide any part of himself from you. Why would he choose this life over you? Did he love this sport more than he could ever love you?

Maybe you were selfish. And maybe you should stop being so greedy and give up a part of yourself so you could be with him, the same as Aran’s fiance had done. Maybe you should be his cheerleader and nothing else.

But you didn’t belong in this room. The men in suits who were lined up to offer Atsumu contracts, money, fame - would laugh if they saw you standing next to him. Because your dress didn’t fit right, and you didn’t have a ring on your finger, and you weren’t Atsumu’s cheerleader.

And everything you had come to terms with was bubbling back up, threatening to poison your entire mind. That’s how you knew you could cry about this forever and still not be over it. And every selfish part of you hoped that he would feel the same way.

You were pulled out of your own thoughts when an arm came around your waist like a hook. Atsumu pulled you into his chest, the infectious remnants of a smile left on his face, looking at you like he knew every thought in your head.

“Told you not to go too far,” he said. That’s when you remembered why he had brought you. “I’m sweating bullets over here, you know.”

You took a deep breath. His smile rubbed off on you. Your emotions seemed to melt away on their own.

Another deep breath, then, “Did you forget deodorant?” A joke you knew he’d believe.

“Did you let me -”

“Kidding.” You straightened his tie and laughed a bit too loud at the look on his face. He rolled his eyes. “You smell like a star athlete to me.”

“I told you to be normal, too.”

You shrugged, “You get what you pay for, babe.”

He took your hand and began pulling you toward the dinner tables, until the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him made him spin on his heels. He knew who it was just from the sound, and squeezed your hand hard enough to hurt.

You busied yourself trying to loosen his fingers from their grip, and you didn’t look up at the person until they coughed again.

It was his head coach. You had never met the man officially - you only knew what you had heard about him. He was an old man of few words. The kind of person who didn’t have to raise their voice to be intimidating; his players could see the disappointment written on his face, could feel his anger in the sound of his footsteps. And he was someone Atsumu would do anything to impress - he was responsible for all the growth he’s had as a player.

He stood stiff, almost nervous, like he was in a lineup, waiting for his coach to speak - waiting to see if he even would.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

You heard Atsumu’s deep breathing go quiet. He bowed his head at the man and didn’t look back up until he walked away.

You didn’t know for sure, but you had a feeling Atsumu had been waiting a long time to hear those words.

Atsumu was graduating early.

He needed to in order to join the professional team he’d gotten drafted into - they wanted him in practices as soon as possible.

It was hard to be anything but proud of him despite your time together dwindling down to only a couple more weeks. And you let yourself get lost in celebrating him, lost in watching him live a dream, until your head hit the pillow every night and you were burying reality.

You were pretending to be asleep now, suppressing every negative thought that crept in. But Atsumu knew you were awake.

He scooted up real close, pressing his chest tight against your back and tucking his chin on your shoulder.

“Got my schedule today,” he mumbled. You didn’t want to hear what he’d say next. “First practice is the first of the month. I’ll be moving into the new place a week before.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wondered what you would say if this didn’t mark the end of your relationship - no words came to you.

He dropped a kiss on your shoulder. “We could… try long distance.”

You rolled over to face him. A tight throat and watery eyes gave away how you felt about his offer.

“I know,” he whispered, a sarcastic huff following his voice. “I know, it’s just… just an idea.”

“Atsumu.”

“Isn’t it - isn’t it worth trying? Shouldn’t we, at least?”

“What if it only makes it hurt more?”

He sighed, “What if it doesn’t?”

And you had to shake your head and pull away from him just enough to put your thoughts together. “I don’t want to end this hating you, Atsumu, I - I want it to stay good.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he said after too long. You hoped he would say more, something to make everything easier, but you knew he couldn’t. It wouldn’t get any easier - only harder, only worse.

Maybe you would have had a better time swallowing the long-brewed regret. If you wouldn’t have taken the leap you wouldn’t have to crash into the ground below. You could have moved on, gotten over what was once a crush but is now a burning love.

You moved into him until he fell onto his back and you laid on his chest. And you pushed your tears back and swallowed the lump in your throat and said the only thing you knew was true.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

It hurt to say it, because those words brought a separation that both of you would heal from, even if you didn’t want to.

“I know.”

You tried to joke, “You’ll forget all about me when you’re big and famous. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, “that’s not true.”

You cuddled into his neck, “I know.”

“We’ll still be friends. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”

“I know.”

“It’s not like I’m dying.”

“I know.”

“It’ll be alright.”

You let his words hang in the air, simmering, ringing in your mind until you believed them. Until the silence was comfortable. Then you lifted your head and looked at him; he looked back at you.

“I’m proud of you, Atsumu.”

He smiled. “I’m proud of you, too.” His thumb traced your bottom lip. “As long as you make it to graduation.”

“As long as you aren’t warming the bench,” you said before snapping to bite his finger; he laughed and pulled it away.

“Take that back,” he pouted, shaking your shoulder and squinting his eyes.

“I meant it!”

“You’re mean. We’re breaking up and you’re being mean!”

You shouldn’t have laughed, not when his words hit like a truck, but you couldn’t help it. “It’s out of love, baby.”

“So you love me?” He was teasing.

“Yeah.”

“I love you too.” He meant it, and you could have cried, and he would have said it again just to tease you for being so emotional.

You squeezed his shoulder as if that was enough of a response, and for him it was.

Then, he said, “Thank you for getting me here. And for being proud. And for going back home even though I want you to come with me. I’m proud of you, I love you.”

And you knew, despite this mutual heartbreak and the longing for him that would never go away, that regret would have been worse. You would have chosen this path a hundred times if given the chance, because you loved him and you were loved by him, and you could never regret the jump you took. The fall before the end was worth it.

#i hope i didnt forget anything in the tags or anything someone pls remind me if i did :D #IM NERVOUS TO POST OMG!!!!!#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu one shot #i forget the tags im supposed to use</3 #fluff #angst #i am looking directly at u. read this fanfiction about a pixelated bastard. pixleated pixalated pixal pixel pixelated #i cant spell it.

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