EARLY PROMISE
gn!reader | 1.3k words, you see the ring iwaizumi wants to propose with a little (very) early
there’s a box behind shirts that iwaizumi no longer wears in his closet.
maybe that’s why you’ve never seen it before. you never would have, were you not given permission to look for clothes to donate while he went on a run.
it’s small, velvet, and inside there’s a ring that, any other day, you would have lingered to watch for as long as possible at a jewelry store.
but you’re not at the mall, nor are you currently being proposed to. you’re at home, standing alone while your stomach churn, and fingers tremble as you stare at the box in your palm where, right now, it decisively should not be. “fuck.”
“babe?”
the sound of the door and his keys accompany hajime’s voice from the entryway. if you listen closely, above your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you can hear him kick off his shoes—them hitting the step that he’s tripped on a few times after long nights with friends and drinks.
he shouldn’t be home yet.
you will your voice to work. “yeah?”
“you looking through the closet already?”
“...yeah?” there’s a questioning lilt at the end as your eyes scan around, his engagement ring—your engagement ring?—still in your hands.
and you know the pattern of hajime’s walk. you know his usual pace, how the floorboards creak as he walks down the hall toward your bedroom. he’s steady—slippers sometimes dragging across the wood if he’s tired, quiet in the morning when he thinks you’re still asleep.
today his footsteps come closer, a little faster, a little heavier than usual.
you assume it’s from the same nerves as yours.
“i forgot, there’s, uh, some shirts i’m keeping that i don’t want—”
hajime opens the door and spots you easily, standing in the middle of the closet as if you were the worst criminal alive, caught stealing in broad daylight.
you to see.
“to throw away,” he finishes, shoulders dropping. his voice quiets to a whisper, “shit.”
silence circles the both of you.
the velvet feels warm in your palm—much heavier than it was a moment ago. you wish you had an analogue clock in your room instead of hajime’s digital. maybe its ticking could take off some of the weight you feel at the sight of him standing a few feet away. maybe you could stare down its hands, listen to its rhythm, let it guide your breathing instead of standing with bated breath, chest unmoving while hajime’s rises as he catches his own.
seconds pass and you flounder, mouth opening and closing while you stand across from each other, neither sure who should speak first.
you don’t think this is how proposals are supposed to go.
your eyes flicker to the still open drawer to your right.
and you walk over, crouch to put the box where it was, pat the old obscure band t-shirt at the top of the pile in front of it, close the drawer, and go back to stand where you were, hands clenched into fists on your sides.
hajime blinks.
“did you really just put it back?” he asks, a little breathy as if he wants to laugh.
you look to the wall beside him then back at his face, as if you could be confused about his question. “...put what back?”
and this time, hajime really does laugh. and then he shakes his head, the way he does when you ask a silly question. “hon—”
“no, no, i’m not—you—that was—” you shake your head and frown. you wish his laughter would comfort you the way it always does, but you think you need to let guilt stay, gnaw for a little while longer. “this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”
he tilts his head and smiles, just a little. “you’re telling me.”
“hajime.” you purse your lips. “i’m sorry. i feel like i just ruined whatever you were planning.”
hajime huffs and walks toward you, arms reaching out to hold yours. his hands are cool from the morning air, and goosebumps cover your skin as his touch runs from your elbows to your hands, where his fingers find their place in between yours. he’s looking down at them as he speaks—the ones that had held the box, to be specific. “it’s okay, it’s not your fault i forgot. plus i decided to run back a block instead of just texting or calling.”
“you panicked.”
“obviously.”
letting go of one hand, you lightly push his chest. but his hand follows, this time holding you to his heart. you give him a look. “i would’ve done the same thing if i was as fast as you. and i don’t know, i could’ve checked somewhere else. or closed my eyes. or wiped my memory.”
“you would’ve checked eventually, and closing your eyes is not effective for what you’re doing.”
“mind wipe would’ve been okay?”
“how would i have known?”
“...the mind wipe-y gun in my hand.”
he snorts. “what? it keeps a little history of your memory wipes?”
“i don’t know, maybe they have those. do you have one?”
“we’re getting off topic,” hajime chides, though there’s no real anger behind his lopsided smile and tilt of his head.
you sigh. there’s no average way of dealing with the topic of exposed proposal plans, so the best you can offer is a small, closed mouth smile of your own. “...you really wanna marry me?”
he reaches to squish your cheeks. “no, that’s for the other person i’ve been dating since high school and live with while you’re asleep.” you roll your eyes and clasp your hand over his.
“of course i wanna marry you. i’ve wanted to marry you for years,” he says with ease, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“well,”—you fidget—“that’s good to know.” your reply is soft, and you will yourself to ignore the warmth that creeps up your neck and face. your eyes fall to where hajime’s thumb rubs the back of your hand, if only to avoid his gaze. “i...can i ask how you were thinking of proposing or is that weird? or maybe you shouldn’t tell me so you can still do it.”
he pauses.
you look at him. “hajime?”
he tenses at his name, sucking in his bottom lip before answering. “well, i was kind of leaving that part of the plan for later—”
“i didn’t even let you plan the proposal?”
“—but if you think about it,” he continues, already aware of how you’d react, “you just saved me a bunch of anxiety by implying you’d say yes.”
your mouth falls open, hands moving away from his. “i already knew i fucked up our engagement, but i really did fuck up our engagement.”
“you didn’t fuck up our engagement,” hajime breathes out your name as he moves to hold your shoulders.
your head falls forward, landing against his shoulder. “i fucked up our engagement so bad.”
your boyfriend, your sweet boyfriend who always seems to come out of situations calmer than you, snickers, and you hit his chest half-heartedly.
“why are you laughing, oh my god—”
“i’m not laughing—”
“shut the fuck up, you’re laughing—”
“i’m sorry—you just, you didn’t fuck anything up, okay?” his laughter quiets as his arms wrap around you. “i can still propose and keep it a surprise, and i’m pretty sure it’s better you found out while i wasn’t in the middle of the plan, yeah? we just…know your answer already which, seriously, is a relief, so stop beating yourself up for something that wasn’t your fault.”
silence wraps around the both of you again—softer this time. an extra comfort intertwined with hajime’s voice and arms holding you.
moving away to look at him, you let out a deep breath. “okay, but i still feel bad.”
“babe—”
“as if you wouldn’t feel bad,” you retort, which your boyfriend responds to with nothing but a look that says you’re right. “is there anything i can do to make up for it?’
he hums and taps your hips, thumbs fitting perfectly against you. “promise to say yes when i actually propose?”
and this time it’s your turn to laugh, though it’s more a puff of air followed by rolling eyes and a kiss to his cheek. “i can probably promise that.”
little nia luvring comeback Bc my brain Sounds Like a garbage disposal + nails on a chalkboard And only these fictional characters r keeping me going. Hope u all thought of me for a moment the past 2/3 months
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