#chem is the worst shit in the universe besides me

[kythed]

“almost funny”

synopsis: suna rintarou thinks you’re out of his league, and you think he’s out of yours.

tagged: general dumbassery, fwb-to-lovers, some profanity, sexual references but nothing explicit.

commitment level: 5.6k words.

It’s almost funny, really. It’s funny how what started out as a purely physical transaction has now transformed into a one way ticket to Simpville with the name Suna Rintarou stamped on it in big red letters. Suna runs a hand through his hair in frustration as he stares down at your sleeping form, curled up in his SF Giants tee that fits you like an oversized nightgown. He loves how you look there, wearing his clothes, bed head resting on his pillows. It’s almost embarrassing how much he loves it. How much he might love you. 

He doesn’t really remember when he started seeing you as more than a good fuck. Maybe it was that time you told him he looked pretty with your lipgloss smeared across his mouth. 

“That’s a nice shade on you,” you’d laughed as he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “You should wear it more often.” 

Then, before he could respond, you’d yanked him back in by the collar, licking into his mouth, deep and dirty. He shivers now even just thinking about it, recalling the taste of that lipgloss. Strawberry lemonade, the sort that comes in little bottles at the dollar store. However “pretty” he might’ve looked in that moment, he’s sure you looked a hundred times better. You always do, and you don’t even have to try. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even in your worst moments. 

Or maybe it was the time you remembered his birthday when no one else did. January 25th; all his friends had taken off on their ski trips or tropical vacations, but you showed up to his apartment toting a cupcake and a single candle, belting a loud, out of tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ until he shut you up with an impulsive kiss on the lips. You’d been surprised, but not so surprised you couldn’t kiss him back. Suna’s pretty sure most friends-with-benefits don’t do that sort of thing. They don’t sit across from each other at the kitchen table, splitting a vanilla cupcake and laughing over matching frosting mustaches. They don’t hug each other goodbye after two hours of scrolling through YouTube and nothing else, content to linger in that air of tentative familiarity and pseudo-friendship. 

Whatever the reason, whenever it happened, all Suna knows now is you’re more than just a fuck buddy. He doesn’t even want to associate the term with you — it feels disrespectful. He wishes he could just stop pretending. Stop pretending he doesn’t want you to be his. 

“Hey.” 

Suna grins at your low, throaty morning voice. It’s cute. 

“Hey,” he responds, reaching forward to flick your shoulder. “You slept in.” 

“Did I?” You blink the sleep from your eyes and squint at Suna’s bedside clock. 9:06. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.” 

You fly out of bed, wiggling into your jeans and tossing your hair into a careless ponytail before frantically scanning the room. “Have you seen my sweater anywhere?”

Suna exhales through his nose before getting up and walking over to his closet. “I hung it up last night so it wouldn’t be wrinkled.”

You freeze in your tracks, slowly turning with a teasing grin plastered on your face. “Oh? How considerate of you.”

Suna shrugs, avoiding your gaze. He feels a flush rise to cheeks and desperately hopes it doesn’t show. “Just being polite.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a little crush on me,” you crow before taking the sweater from the hanger and slipping it over your head. 

“You wish,” he snorts, but all he can think is you’re absolutely right. 

You ignore him and begin shoveling all your things into your purse: a compact mirror, lipstick, house keys. You glance at the clock again. “I’m gonna be so late to this lecture. Damn. Maybe I can text Aiko and ask her to record the first part for me.”

Suna raises an eyebrow. He remembers your friend Aiko from a party last year, before you and he began your… arrangement. She’s outgoing, friendly, and probably the flakiest person he’s ever met. “She’s not gonna do that. Just let me drive.”

“No, it’s fine,” you automatically brush him off, heading into the bathroom to splash your face with lukewarm water. “You probably have your own shit to take care of.”

Yeah, you, he thinks, but instead he says, “Not really. Plus, you’ll probably miss the whole thing if you try to bike to campus. Let me take you in the car. I’ll strap the bike onto the back.” 

You give him a look. “Are you sure, Rin?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he says, throwing on a shirt. “Outside in five, and I’ll have you there by 9:30, easy.” 

After a few more weak protestations, you finally agree, and as he drives you to your university, he lets himself pretend you’re his girlfriend sitting there in the passenger seat. He turns on your favorite artist’s Spotify mix on the aux and smiles to himself when you hum along, watching the city fly past out the window. What he wouldn’t give for that reality, one where he can love you without all these restrictions, these tricky boundaries between friends and lovers. When you jump out of the car, calling a cheeky “I’ll text you!” over your shoulder, he pretends it’s an affectionate “I’ll see you for dinner tonight!” instead. He pretends that instead of rushing to get away from him and into the lecture hall, you kiss him on the forehead and squeeze his shoulder, reluctant to leave.

“Fuck me,” Suna says angrily before slamming his palm into the horn, scaring a few freshman walking to class. “And fuck you too!” 

He’s not sure who “you” is. Maybe the universe. 

No, Suna Rintarou doesn’t know why or how it happened, but he’s in too deep now. And he’s pretty damn sure you’ll never feel the same way. 

+

You slide into your seat beside Aiko just as the guest lecturer pulls up his power point, breathing out a sigh of relief. Aiko shoots you a grin, waggling her eyebrows. Suna? she mouths, and you roll your eyes, nodding nonetheless. Aiko can hardly wait until after the lecture to start pestering you about it. 

“So,” she says as you leave the auditorium together. “Did you tell him yet?” 

“Tell him what?” You dig in your bag for your water bottle, groaning when you remember leaving it on the edge of Suna’s sink last night. 

“Tell him that you’re in loooooove,” Aiko sings, nudging your shoulder. 

You scoff. “Okay, first of all, I don’t love him.”

“But you like him,” Aiko persists, and you hold up a finger. 

“And second of all, even if I did, I would never tell him.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes before realizing you hadn’t taken your makeup off and thus probably have awful raccoon eye bags. “He’s so out of my league it’s not even funny. It’s kind of pathetic for me to think he’d ever like me back.” 

Aiko scoffs. “If anything, you’re out of his league. You could pull any guy you wanted to. And when I say any, I mean any. Like, I bet you could even get Jake Gyllenhaal.” 

You laugh. “Why specifically Jake Gyllenhaal?”

Aiko shrugs. “Dunno. Just the first hot guy that came to mind. But forget him. My point is, Suna Rintarou is definitely yours for the taking. All you have to do is —”

“I know, I know,” you interrupt. “All I have to do is confess.” 

“Exactly,” says Aiko. Before she can open her mouth again, you cut in. 

“Okay, but listen, Aiko,” you say. “Suna’s the kind of guy who doesn’t let himself get attached. He fully admitted to me when we first hooked up that he’d never had a girlfriend. And that’s obviously not from lack of female interest. It’s because he doesn’t want one.”

“Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t found the right person yet.” Aiko starts heading towards the campus coffee shop, and you follow her. 

“Sure,” you say, getting in line. The cafe is crowded with students getting in their daily caffeination, inhaling sugary lattes and bitter espressos just to stay awake through their next class. Ah… college. “Or maybe he just. Doesn’t. Want. One.” 

Aiko keeps arguing all the way up until you reach the cash register, where you realize you haven’t even decided on what to order yet. 

“Hey there,” says the cashier, smiling sunnily. “What can I get for ya?” 

You blink. He’s attractive. Very attractive, actually. Bleach blonde, a crooked grin that screams trouble in the best sort of way. Miya, says the little name plate pinned to his shirt. “I, uhh…”

“Take your time,” he says leaning forward like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Between you and me, we have an excellent mocha latte. Not too sweet, y’know?”

You find your manners. “Oh, um, yeah. That sounds great, actually.” 

“One mocha latte, then?” he asks, picking up a cup, and you nod. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of serving today?” 

When you tell him your name, he smiles to himself and scrawls it on the cup. “Pretty.”

You flush and pay, hands shaking a little when you slide your card down the side of the machine. The cashier notices and shoots you a knowing look. Five minutes later, when you pick up your drink from the other side of the counter, you see not only your name written on the lid, but a phone number, too, along with a tiny winking face. 

“What’d I tell you?” exclaims Aiko shrily when you leave the shop. “Any. Guy. Period.” 

You shake your head in exasperation, but you can’t help but throw a final glance over your shoulder, meeting the eyes of the cute cashier one more time. Maybe Aiko does have a point. 

+

That weekend, Suna’s stretched out on his couch, dangling his feet over the armrest and staring up at the ceiling. It’s one of those lazy Saturday afternoons, and usually he’d be enjoying his alone time. Not today, though. Today there’s something — someone — on his mind, and that someone is spelled y-o-u. His phone pings, and he snatches it up with embarrassing speed, groaning when he sees it’s just Atsumu. 

“Bastard,” he mutters, not even bothering to open the message. Probably just asking for the O-chem lab answers. 

Suna rolls over onto his stomach, pulling up your contact name. What he really wants to do is see you, but how is he supposed to do that without sounding weirdly desperate? Hey, he types out. Wanna come over and watch a movie? He pauses for a moment before adding, Pizza’s on me. 

He buries his face in his hands and deletes the text. That makes it sound like he’s asking you out. Well, that’s what he does want to do, but you can’t know that. He’s fairly certain if you knew how he felt about you, you’d freak out. Girls don’t like to be tied down, he reminds himself. Suna groans again, grabbing two fistfuls of hair in irritation. 

“Why are women so complicated?” he says aloud, letting the words echo in his empty apartment. He takes a couple seconds to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and unlock his phone again, this time settling on a simple Come over. Short, sweet, and to the point. Well, not exactly. That makes it sound like all he wants to do is sleep together, when he’d really rather just… talk. Spend time with you. 

“Oh, God,” he mutters. “I’m so done for.” 

It takes what seems like forever for you to arrive, breathless from biking, hair slightly mussed. Suna grins, biting his lip. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. Even if all he can get is the sex, then he’s sure as hell going to appreciate it. You smell like lavender laundry detergent, he notices when you press yourself into him, fumbling to close the door behind you without breaking the kiss. 

“Well, hello there,” you laugh when he finally breaks away and draws in a shaking breath. “Somebody’s eager.”

Suna rolls his eyes. “As if. You just took so long to get here.” 

You cock an eyebrow. “You texted me like half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, and you’re half an hour too late.”

You snort and hurl a pillow from the sofa at him. He catches it and smiles, taking your wrist and drawing you in for another messy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Sorry that I don’t have the power of teleportation,” you quip, laughing when he pulls you into the bedroom. Suna resolves to take his time with you today, undressing you carefully, trailing his lips down your sternum and collarbones, grinning to himself whenever you gasp. He almost catches himself saying “I love you” at one point as you cling to him, mumbling his name, but he placates himself with kissing you extra hard at the end instead, pulling you into his chest and falling back into the pillows. 

Usually, you’d take a few minutes to lay in silence, tracing shapes in his skin, and he’d lean back with closed eyes, imagining what it would be like to be loved by you. Slow early morning kisses, skin on skin, whispering and giggling and everything cheesy he used to hate but now wishes he could experience with you. Today, though, you peel yourself off of him and grab your phone as soon as it buzzes, fingers flying in response to whoever had texted you.

“New boy toy?” he jokes, almost choking when you don’t immediately say no. Oh, shit. “You’re kidding.”

“Just a guy I met the other day,” you say casually. Suna stares, slack jawed. “Works at the coffee shop near the quad.” 

“Coffee shop?” He furrows his brow. Doesn’t he know someone who works there? He internally scowls, digging into the back of his brain. Aran? Osamu? 

“Mm,” you say, suppressing a smile as the nameless suitor sends another text. “His name’s Atsumu Miya.”

Suna’s heart nearly falls right out of his chest and cracks at his feet. “No.”

You look up, raising an eyebrow. “No?”

“Not him,” Suna says, forgetting himself, forgetting the nature of your relationship. 

“I didn’t realize you were in charge of who I can and cannot be interested in,” you say bitingly. 

Suna sits up. “I’m not. It’s just, Atsumu… he’s not your type.” 

“You know him?”

“Yeah,” Suna says, thinking back on his days observing the Miya twins’ antics. “He’s not your kind of guy, trust me.”

“Pray tell then,” you say. Oh, fuck. You’re irritated. “Who exactly is my kind of guy?” 

Me, he thinks. I’m your kind of guy. “I don’t know. Just trust me though, okay? Atsumu… he’s difficult.” 

“Thanks, Suna,” you say, tone tinged with sarcasm. Suna cringes. You only ever call him by his surname when you’re upset with him. “But I think I can go out with whoever I want to go out with.” 

“Fine.” The word tumbles out more harshly than he’d meant it to. 

You stare at him in disbelief. “What, are you mad at me or something?” 

Suna exhales heavily. “No, I’m not mad. It’s not like we’re dating or anything. I just wanted to give you a little guidance. As your friend.” 

“As my friend?” you repeat. “My friend?”

Now it’s Suna's turn to be confused. “Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, Suna,” you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, pulling your clothes on. “You tell me.” 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say here,” he says, watching as you struggle to pull your shorts back on. He knows what he wants to say. No, we’re not friends. We should be together. Isn’t it obvious? 

You huff, grabbing your bag and the water bottle you’d left behind the other day. “You know, I don’t really know either. Forget I ever said anything. I guess I just thought…” 

You trail off and shake your head, heading towards the door. Suna scrambles out of bed to follow you, pulling on his pants as he hops down the hall on one leg. “What’s that?” 

“I said forget it,” you call over your shoulder, trying to slam the door, but Suna catches your wrist. As you stare up at him, he thinks he sees your lip quivering, eyes shining with half-formed tears. “Let me go.” 

“I’m serious,” Suna says. “What did you think?” 

You draw in a deep breath, and for a second, Suna thinks you’re about to say the words he’s always wanted you to say. Then you look away. “Let. Me. Go.” 

Slowly, Suna releases you from his grasp, and you stumble backwards, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. 

“Don’t call me.”

“Wait, no —”

“Don’t call me, Suna!” you say loudly, before turning on your heel and speed walking down the stairs. 

Oh. Oh. Suna stares in shock at the place you were just standing on his doorstep. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

When he heads back inside, head empty but for the single thought, I’ve just lost the best thing that ever happened to me, he glances at his phone on the counter. In an instant, he’s opening up his messages, pulling up Atsumu’s. 

Met a cute girl LOL. Gonna bring her to that party on Friday. 

Then, in a separate bubble — Btw: chem answers? 

+

“And then he called me his friend,” you say angrily, handing Aiko the box of Oreos. The two of you are sprawled on the floor of her dorm room. “Just like we were two bros who got together to play XBox every once in a while, instead of two people who had literally just banged.” 

Aiko takes a cookie before handing them back to you. “Asshole.”

“I mean, I know technically we were ‘friends with benefits,’” you say, stuffing an Oreo in your mouth. “But I guess I thought we could be something more. I thought there was no way he could kiss me like that, look at me like that without feeling something. Guess I was wrong.” 

“Screw him,” Aiko says. “You’ve got boys lined up around the block, and he thinks he can treat you like rubbish? Absolute bullshit.”

“I don’t have boys ‘lined up around the block,’” you remind her, smiling regardless. “Just one.”

“And that one is hella cute!” Aiko says. “You’re way too cool to pine over some guy who thinks you’ll just answer his every beck and call without even committing to a relationship.” 

You sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… ack. I don’t know. Am I jumping to conclusions? He seemed like he wanted to talk to me more, but I kind of stormed off without saying anything.” 

“Seems like he was pretty clear,” Aiko says with a shrug. “Your call, though. If I were you, I’d forget about him. Plus, you have Atsumu now. That’s a promising route.” 

You smile down at the Oreos, thinking about the cheery bottle blonde. “Yeah… he invited me to a party this coming Friday.” 

Aiko gives you a look and nudges your knee with her own. “You’d better wear that black dress.”

“You think?” you laugh, momentarily forgetting about Suna. 

“Oh, definitely. Gotta look your best on the first date.” 

“Right, and then after that I can just dress like a bum,” you joke. You purse your lips. “Rin might be there. Apparently he and Atsumu are pretty close.” 

“Even better,” insists Aiko. “Make him suffer a little bit. He won’t like seeing you all dolled up on Atsumu Miya’s arm.” 

“I’m not gonna try to make him jealous, Aiko,” you say, and Aiko shakes her head.

“No, I just think he needs to understand what he lost,” she says. “You don’t even have to pay attention to him at all, though. You should try and get to know Atsumu a little better.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, before reaching down for another cookie. “Oh. We’re out.”

“Gas station run?”

“Gas station run.” 

+

When Friday rolls around, you’ve successfully managed to avoid thinking about Suna the entire day. You have a calculus exam in the morning, and then a club meeting in the afternoon, and by the time you get done with everything it’s already time to get ready to leave for the party. It’s across town at someone’s loft apartment, so Atsumu offers to give you a ride, rolling up in a shiny Lexus, a sharp contrast from Suna’s old Chevy. 

“Hey,” he says, getting out to open the door for you. “You look great.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you say. “Although, I might prefer the work uniform.”

“Oh, please,” Atsumu says with a grin. “That apron does nothing to flatter my figure.” 

“Mhm.” The ride there is a slightly awkward one, but that’s normal, you tell yourself. You’ve gotten so used to the easy, teasing camaraderie you and Suna have that you’re rusty in regards to flirting. Atsumu has a different sense of humor, too, nothing like the dry sarcasm Suna’s such an expert in. You shake your head. Stop thinking about him. 

Even sitting next to a new guy, you can’t help but run last weekend’s drama over in your head. The past few months have been a jumble of mixed signals, and last Saturday was no different. How he tenderly brushed your hair from your face as he hovered over you, how he pulled you into his arms afterwards … how he seemed almost jealous when you mentioned Atsumu. Was it really jealousy? Exactly how much does Suna Rintarou care for you? You roll the numbers inside your head, trying to quantify the soft touches and lingering stares. He’s not easy to read; trying to understand Suna is like trying to decipher Greek without ever taking a single class. 

Even trying to get a measure on how much you care for him is difficult. You definitely like him as more than a friend. The only reason you agreed to the whole friends-with-benefits thing in the first place was because of a little crush that grew, that fed on that intimacy… but you’re not so sure now. 

“Here we are,” says Atsumu, jolting you from your contemplation as he pulls up alongside the curb. When you climb out of the car, he takes you by the hand, flashing you a quick smile. Your heart trips over itself, and you smile back. “Let’s do this.” 

+

Suna doesn’t show up to the party. He spends most of Friday busying himself at home, paying off a couple electricity bills, cleaning out the fridge. He even does a load of laundry. That’s how bored he is. By the time the clock strikes eight, he feels as though he’s Swiffered every single kitchen tile, folded every shirt, and wiped down every counter in the entire apartment, all to avoid stewing over you and him and all the ways he keeps messing up. But after doing everything on his to-do list and watching a movie and cooking his own dinner (unheard of!) he finds himself pacing around the living room, biting at his nails and thinking about you. More specifically, you and Atsumu. He hopes you’re not wearing that little dress you wore to the club with him a couple months ago. Not that you don’t look great in it — you do, and that’s the issue. The better you look, the more likely Suna will never get a chance to be with you again. 

To be fair, he’s not entirely sure how much of a chance he’s ever had with you. You’re incredible, plain and simple. Gorgeous, intelligent, the best player two on every video game he’s ever played with you. You’re not especially adept at the games themselves; no, there’s just something about you. There’s always just been something about you he can’t seem to find anywhere else. 

“Damn it,” Suna grunts aloud, flopping down on the couch. It’s nearing half past eleven now. He wonders what you’re doing. Dancing to some shitty music in some crowded living room. Sipping a can of cheap liquor. Letting Atsumu touch your waist, his hand dipping lower and lower until — 

Suna buries his face in the couch cushion. He’s usually not one to let his imagination run away with him, but tonight seems to be one of many recent exceptions. If only there was a way to know where he stands with you, or at least where you stand with Atsumu…

Well, there is a way, actually. Almost of its own accord, his hand inches towards his phone, sliding it open and somehow finding its way into his Snapchat. Fingers shaking, Suna clicks on Osamu’s story. It’s dimly lit, a mass of bodies, loud, drunk guys and scantily clad girls. The music is too loud, even through the phone. Suna squints at the screen — there’s Aran, even Kita’s there, quietly sitting in the corner, but no sight of — Suna’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Because there you are, and you’re not alone. You’re sitting on Atsumu’s lap, but he can’t see your expression because Atsumu is kissing you sloppily, and — oh, God — it looks like you’re kissing him back. 

And you’re wearing the fucking dress. 

“Damn,” Osamu says in the background. “Looks like he’s getting some tonight.”

Suna throws his phone across the room like it’s a grenade, staring down at his empty hands in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Not to him. Not to you. 

For the first time, Suna Rintarou thinks he understands what it really means to want someone. Not in a sexual way, but in the deepest sense of the word. Want. He wants you, and he’s pretty sure he’s never wanted anyone or anything quite so much in his life. 

All of a sudden, before his brain even has a chance to catch up, Suna finds himself shrugging on a jacket and snatching his keys from the table, dashing out the door like he’s being chased. If he leaves now, he thinks, starting the car and nearly slamming the door on his foot, he can get to the party before you leave. And then, well, then he’s not quite sure what he’ll do, but he’ll do something. 

Again, though, it seems as if the universe might be against him, because there’s an accident on the highway and it takes twice as long to get across town as it should. Suna cusses loudly over the incessant honking and chews on the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. When the traffic lets up and he finally pulls up to the apartment complex, parallel parking in a spot that’s probably illegal, he races up the stairs and into the loft, grabbing the first partygoer he sees. The poor kid’s plastered beyond belief and stares at Suna like he’s an extraterrestrial, eyes glassy.

“You see a girl leave here? ‘Bout this tall, probably left with some douchey looking blonde dude?” 

The kid blinks, hard and slow, before nodding. “Yeah, man, you just missed her. That your chick or somethin’? Because she was sucking face with —” 

Suna spins on his heel before the kid gets a chance to finish his sentence. He’s lucky Suna doesn’t deck him the head, he’s so irritated. 

“Sucking face,” he mumbles, climbing back into the car. He has the route to your house memorized (although he’s not sure how), and he’s pretty sure he breaks about twenty traffic laws trying to get there, so it takes significantly less time to arrive, but to Suna, it feels like an eternity. How did he ever sleep soundly at night knowing other guys had a shot at you before this? He doesn’t know, and he hopes he never has to worry about it again. Not after tonight. 

He gets there just as Atsumu’s pulling out of the driveway. Suna flashes him a mental middle finger and resolves to kick his ass later. No time for that right now. You’re still standing on the front porch, and when Suna stumbles out of the car, you turn towards him, mouth agape. 

“Rin? What are you—”

“Give me a chance.” He’s breathless, eyes wide and hair whipping around his face in the cool breeze. His heartbeat pounds in his ears like it’s about to burst blood vessels.

“Huh?”

“Give me a chance,” he repeats, reaching forward to take your hand. Your palm is cold against his. “I can do so much better, I promise.” 

You furrow your brows. “What in the world are you talking about, Rin?”

The dam breaks. The dam breaks, and everything — the longing, the frustration, everything — comes pouring out in a waterfall of rushing words he doesn’t even have time to think over before they splash at your feet.

“I can do so much better than Atsumu. He doesn’t know you. I know you, and I, well, I’ve liked you since forever, okay? I know your favorite color and your birthday and which Chinese place you like to get takeout from on Saturday nights.” Suna clears his throat. “I know that you like to be hugged from behind and that you hate it when people see you cry. I know so many things about you, and I want to know more.” 

“Rin—”

He holds up a hand. “Just listen. I know we’re just fuck buddies, or friends with benefits, or whatever the hell you want to call it, but I want to change that. You mean so much more to me than the sex. God, even if we never slept together again, I would still love you.” 

You stare at him. “Love?”

Suna swallows hard. “Yeah, fuck it. Love. I love you. Whatever that means to you, it means to me. I love your stupid jokes and your stupid laugh. To be honest, I’m so in love it feels like I’ll never love anyone else.”

He stops to take a deep breath and a shaky laugh. “Pathetic, right? I know it is. I can’t help it. I’m well aware that Atsumu is way more charming and outgoing, and I was probably wrong when I said he wasn’t your type… but I just need to know if I have even the smallest chance of winning you over.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Then another one. You’re gazing at him, head cocked, and the seconds tick by. He still has your hand in his, growing warmer via body heat. Suna feels himself grow increasingly nervous at your expression, curious and almost apathetic — until a wide smile breaks across your face. You laugh, and he thinks it must be the best sound he’s ever heard. 

“You weren’t wrong.”

“What?”

“He’s not my type,” you say. “We didn’t click.” 

“But — I saw, uh — Osamu’s story,” Suna stammers. “Sucking face.”

“Sucking face?” You squint in confusion before chuckling again. “Ah. Yeah, I kissed him. It was part of some stupid game. He’s kind of bad at it.” 

“Atsumu’s a bad kisser?” 

“Well,” you say, drawing the word out. “I wouldn’t say bad. It’s just… you’re better.” 

Suna’s silent for a second, letting the words ricochet around his brain. He’s better. He’s a better kisser. It was just a game. You’re not into Atsumu. “So… does that mean…?” 

“I love you, too.” You smile, and it’s not like your usual cocky grin. It’s sweet and almost… shy. 

“You love me, too?” Suna repeats in utter shock. He hadn’t expected to get this far.

“That’s what I just said,” you say. “What are you, a parrot? Speaking of which, though, I think that whole speech was the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” 

Suna doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step closer and pulls you in for a hug. A real hug, not like the hesitant embrace you’d given him on his birthday, or the side hug he gave you after running into you at the grocery market a few weeks ago. No, this is a true, bona fide hug, and he translates everything he’s ever wanted to tell you but couldn’t into his arms wrapping around your waist. 

“So… wanna come in and watch a movie?” 

+

A little while later, Suna’s stretched out on your mattress with you between his legs, chin resting on the top of your head. You’ve changed out of your dress and wiped the makeup from your face, and Suna catches you yawning in the corner of his eye. There’s a trashy romcom droning on your laptop at the foot of the bed. To any outside onlooker, the scene is mundane, just a typical couple enjoying each other’s company. To Suna, though, this is paradise. 

It’s almost funny. It’s funny how, a week ago, Suna was a boy pining for a girl he thought he had no chance with. He looked at you and saw something unattainable, someone who would only ever want him temporarily. (And, unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way.) He experienced an overwhelming amount of want, heart knotting in on itself and twisting and turning until it pushed him over the edge, forcing him to confront his own desires. His own inadequacies. 

It’s funny how love is what everyone longs for, but it’s also the hardest reward to earn. It’s the most uncomfortable, heart-wrenching, nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing pathway to happiness Suna’s ever seen. But still… he’d do it all over again if he had to. The months of headaches, the overthinking. It’s worth it. You’re worth it. 

Oh, well. What can he say? Suna leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your temples, and you tilt your head up to smile at him. Love’s a funny thing. 

Fortunately, Suna’s always down for a good joke.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #suna #suna rintarō #suna rintarō x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna imagines #suna rintarō imagines #suna headcanons #suna rintarō headcanons #suna fluff #suna rintarō fluff #suna rintarou fluff #friends to lovers #f2l #fwb to lovers

[revasserium]

what lies beyond forever with oikawa

hq!!reqs temporarily: closed ; all other reqs: open

send me a number a character and i’ll write you a drabble ;

82. what lies beyond forever oikawa ; college!au ; 1,653 words

he’d never believed in forever, not really -- the thought of some eternal plane stretching into the neverending distance, somewhere across the horizon -- it never found purchase in the vast winding tributaries of his mind. he never thought about the eventual heat-death of the universe, or the possibility of impending doom lurking across the cornflower sky, beyond the atmosphere where time and space became one and the same, where the very fabrics of reality, his reality, to be clear, might tear and be resewn into a different patchwork of truths. 

he never thought he’d yearn for forever. 

until he met you. 

you blow through his life like the summer wind, sweet and warm and a little unexpected but never unwelcomed. you smiled like sunsets and laughed like thunderstorms in the middle of july, the lightening around your shoulders striking through him, setting his very bones a-chatter. iwaizumii tells him he’s in love to his face, and still, oikawa refuses to believe him. 

“i don’t sing but if i did, it’d be that one song from the stupid disney movie you like about that dude with the weird hair and chin.” 

oikawa sputters, “first of all, i’ve heard you sing -- if you actually tried, you might not be half bad, not as great as me, obviously,” he ducks to avoid a narrow swipe for his head, “and second, hercules is a classic disney masterpiece and his hair and chin are iconic.” 

iwaizumi grunts, flipping through another page of the most recent issue of jump. 

“right, but that whole -- bitch, why you lyin’ song from there. that one -- that’s you right now.” 

oikawa heaves a stage-worthy sigh as he slumps down next to iwaizumi on their dorm couch. 

“iwa, i know i’ve taught you better than this -- you know that song’s from the why you always lyin’ meme, and not hercules.” and people have the gall to call him impatient. ignorant fools. but, he supposes that iwaizumi isn’t wrong (the fact that he usually never is pisses oikawa off more than he’d ever admit out loud), and that well, he is, technically, kind of sort of really actually, pretty deeply, in love. 

with you. 

“whatever. point is. you’ve got the shits. now what do you do about it?” 

oikawa grimaces, “could you not make my love life sound like irritable bowel syndrome? thanks.” 

“too bad your love life is actually like ibs. you think i’d be here otherwise?” 

oikawa blinks, “you’re only here cause i’m suffering from emotional diarrhea?” 

“isn’t there a saying about best friends being there to laugh at you in jail before bailing you out?” iwaizumi glances up from the comic. oikawa pouts. 

“that’s not how the saying goes -- it doesn’t even make any sense!” 

iwaizumi flaps a nonchalant hand at him, “whatever. point is. you’re deep in this shit, and somethin’s gotta be done.” 

oikawa heaves another sigh. what is it with iwaizumi and making shit-analogies. he was like this in highschool too, with all the shit-based nicknames. oikawa shudders as he remembers some of iwaizumi’s more creative names and decides there are better things to mope about. like you, and the fact that he’s still yet to make any moves towards this relationship he’d like to be in with you. 

“i mean,” oikawa mutters, huffing as he curls his arms around his knees on the sofa, “i know what i have to do. i just gotta grow another pair of balls and ask her out.” 

iwaizumi chuckles, “that’s assuming you already have a pair. and from where i’m sitting, that ain’t true. so let’s focus on just growing one pair, mkay?” 

this time, it’s iwaizumi who ducks barely in time to miss the couch cushion swung wide in his direction. 

“you’re the fucking worst.” 

iwaizumi grunts, grinning, “ain’t that what best friends are for?” 

when he sees you the next day, he wonders if iwaizumi was right -- if this is what love feels like. and it’s so much more than butterflies -- it had seemed so much easier in his head, and it’s not like he hasn’t dated before. but all those times, he was the one being confessed to. now that he’s on the other side of the equation, he starts to feel a little sorry for all the girls he's rejected across the span of his dating career -- if you say no, right now, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to recover. 

“tooru-san, are you okay?” 

oikawa clears his throat, casts his eyes about, wincing as he accidentally looks right into the light of the afternoon sun. it’s too damn hot. summer’s never really been his season, but sweet heavens, does it look good on you. or maybe it’s just the sundress. yeah, that oughtta be it. 

“i... i want you to go out with me.” 

you blink, before the corners of your lips lift and you breaking into a torrent of laughter. oikawa stares at you, dumbfounded. of all the way’s he expected this to go -- this was not one of them. 

“ah, right -- hajime-sempai did say you were going to confess today.” 

oikawa’s eyes go wide, he gapes at you for a few moments, his mouth working silently over all the words he doesn’t know how to say. 

“iwa told you? and since when were you guys on first-name terms?” 

“we’re in the same chem lab together.” 

oikawa scoffs, “right, i forgot that you’re both trying to be rocket scientists in the future.” 

you smile, “says the pre-med student.” 

oikawa flushes, “that’s besides the point.” 

you quirk an eyebrow, “ah, right. you were confessing, sorry -- please do continue.” 

oikawa scowls, knitting his arms across his chest, resisting the urge to stomp his feet like a petulant child. 

“well that’s not fair. you pre-empted me. you --!” he fights for a word, any word that might encompass some of what he’s feeling right now, but he comes up blank. finally, he simply settles for another huff, shoulders scrunched up in frustration. 

you grin, “would a date make it better?” 

“no -- it wouldn’t -- wait, what?” he does a double-take, all anger and embarrassment and irritability leaving him at your words and all they could entail. a date? with him? and you? does that mean -- 

you nod, “yeah, to make up for ruining your confession.” 

he narrows his eyes, “did iwa put you up to this too, because if he did, i swear to god i’ll kick his ass so hard it goes concave --” 

you’re laughing again, and the sound punches him in the stomach, hard, leaving him winded and unsteady. he’s always loved the way you laugh, but somehow, it lands differently on this side of the almost-confession. 

“he didn’t! i promise, and even if he did, that doesn’t change the fact that i’d still want to go with you.” 

“you... want to go... with me.” oikawa repeats the words as if trying to remember what each of them means. and then, his eyes brighten up like a cascade of bursting stars. 

“like on date?” he asks, hopeful, childish, wonderous. 

you roll your eyes, “didn’t i just say that?” but there’s no malice in your voice, and the smile on your lips is sweeter than anything oikawa’s ever seen in his entire life. 

“yeah -- ha -- guess you did,” he scratches at the back of his head, unsure of how to proceed from here. in his head, he’d only ever planned out the speech, the grandiose way in which he’d declare his love for you, how you’d hopefully accept, and then you’d somehow end up walking hand in hand into the blistering summer sunset, but this -- this fast-forward of events catches him off guard. 

it’s not in his nature of think about things like forevers. and he’s still not quite used to it. but with you, he thinks that he might have to reconsider. 

“so...? where should we go?” you ask, rocking on the balls of your feet. 

oikawa lets out a helpless laugh and shakes his head. 

“dunno. but uhm... let’s go find somewhere to go. together, maybe.” 

it’s not in his nature of falter either. but then again, he supposes that this is what love does to a person. scramble up their entire lives, upend it over a cliff till all the bits that used to make sense are sunk somewhere at the bottom of the ocean. 

you nod once, grinning wide and reach out to take his hand. he lets you lace your fingers. he lets you swing your arms. 

he lets you lead him towards the little bakery around the corner of the street, still a little dumbstruck by the turn of events but as the summer sun blows out over the vast horizon, he can’t help but wonder at all the impossible things that may lie beyond it. 

he smiles. three seconds into this relationship thing, and he’s already turning into a sap. 

but maybe iwaizumi really was right, and maybe this is just what love does to a person -- reshape the foundations of their world, make them wonder about the future, the one that no one can ever see, the one where the universe might die in a boom or a fizzle, where forever isn’t just a thought but a concept, tangible and achievable. dark -- terrifying. lonely.

he holds your hand a little bit tighter, smiles to himself, tells himself that he’s being stupid. but then he thinks that that’s part of love too -- being stupid enough to think about all those things, about all that might lay on the other side of forever, and then decide that well, he’s perfectly happy with everything on his side of forever, just the way it is. 

#oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu imagines #oikawa #floofy floof floof #yo this turned out to be more of an iwaoi friendship fic than proper romance but lol i liked it #just kidding it has a good amount of actual romance #its cute #and oikawa is such a lovable jackass i couldn't resist #making him stutter and calling him on his bullshit #u__u #haiCUTIES

[ac-ars]

Oh my, my, my

it’s been 84 years, or even longer, my laptop kept being freezing bitch and didn’t want to work so i had to backup all shit, but it doesn’t matter, im close to failing physics, and idc as well, because this is finally done lol

thanks to people who were telling me i am not shit while writing this ily all

also!!!! pedro used here isn’t the pedro from rollerband please remember this

anyway have fun with physics teacher asshole Matteo here

Oh my, my, my

If you ask Luna Valente what she likes the most in the guy who is teaching her physics, she will not be able to answer. There is no full, logical answer for this question, because Luna simply can’t tell what about Matteo Balsano is the hottest, or more like, hotter than the rest.

She had thought that her college experience was going to be filled with parties her friends make her to go when she wants to stay home, hangovers and headaches, sleeping during boring, morning lectures and a fuck ton of studying. All those things above have been happening so far, ever since she stepped into the building of her faculty, but damn, it’s been three years and now he happened, changing whole studies imagine to the worst and the best thing Luna could have ever made up in her mind.

She has been dreading physics classes for quite long time; in highschool she wasn’t the best when it came to science, but here she is on engineering faculty and physics is kind of inevitable on engineering faculties, isn’t it? So she had to take it anyway.

It was expected that physics is going to kill her in every possible way: tire her, confuse and ruin her, turn her brain into the jelly, yet Luna would never think that the problem wouldn’t be in physics itself.

Currently she is having troubles in physics class because of her ta, who makes her the least and the most focused when he talks. And suddenly his class became Luna’s favorite class ever.

The thing is that he chose her. They have group president, yet he wanted someone who doesn’t talk much, still knows everyone and has no kind of responsibilities on their shoulders, and that’s how Luna turned into his private group post pigeon to share any stuff that needs to be shared.

She has his email in case he is stuck in morning traffic and can’t get to class on time. He uses it to give them notes after any topic and exercises to solve before the tests. It’s mostly because his lazy ass is too lazy to create mail group, but whatever. Why would Luna complain about any extra time or contact with him? She doesn’t have his phone number, and hopes he is never gonna give it to her; it wouldn’t be any good idea, because she would end up texting him something weird and lame like your shirt would look great on the floor in my bedroom after alcohol.

Still, she is doing better than all her friends who are crushing on him, trying to find some ways to seduce him or some shit, yet Luna is really above this all mentality, since she is very self conscious, enough to chill and stop believing in some crazy, hot fantasies, focusing more on what she can see instead. Not on what could someday happen, what she could do to him or with him. Her imagination is all she needs at this point. Besides, Matteo doesn’t seem to be the one to make any move towards any of the students anyway.

Hands. His hands are currently roaming her back with softness, yet quickly because he can’t get enough of her. His eyes are closed finally; he decided to learn her without any help of his sight, using other senses instead and looks like he is going to memorize all of her. His lips. His lips are moving on hers urgently, trying to get as much as possible from her, as if the whole universe is depending on this very kiss they share, but Luna doesn’t mind; she is willing to give him as much as possible.

He is pressing her to his desk with his hips, like he is scared that she is going to run away, but cursed the one who would ever say something like this, because Luna Valente isn’t the one to avoid any chance of getting at least a tiny bit of Matteo Balsano. She pulls away for a second to take single breath, since he doesn’t let her take another, needing more and more. His teeth close on her lower lip making her hiss softly, but he only smirks and moves away before letting her go. His eyes are dark, dark, black, even though she has always been sure of their sweet brown color, and are making her crazier than all of his touches.

Her fingers slide up his arms slowly, trying to feel the shape of his muscles moving when he tries to unclasp her bra from under her blouse. Shivers keep going down her spine since his hands are cold, almost sobering her, yet not quite and every of his movements makes her wake up from this crazy moment, but takes her back at the same time. She reaches his shoulders and his neck before tangling her fingers in his soft, soft hair which she has always wanted to touch, checking if it’s like she imagined all those times before.

He still demands more; his mouth gets hungrier and more careful so Luna just kinda slows down playing with buttons of his shirt. He smiles against her lips, letting her know how much he wants her to keep going and all she can do now is starting to undo the buttons slowly while his mouth ends up on her neck, kissing her skin as properly as he kissed her lips. Her heart is beating too hard for him not to feel it, but nobody here seems to care about it as long as the moment isn’t interrupted by anything. She is letting out small, soft sighs as his lips tickle her skin, his tongue is teasing from time to time and his fingers try to sneak their way under her skirt.

This is all she needs from the world, so, dear stars, if someone is going to ruin this-

“Jesus Christ, Luna, could you please stop eyefucking him finally?” She feels an elbow in her ribs, which makes her jump and very gracefully push her hardcover notebook off the desk to the floor. Obviously, it does make loud thump and now everyone is staring at her, while Pedro is giggling under his breath and she is so going to murder him one day. She just looks at the notebook, not sure what to do something; if do something at all, but of course he has to get into the whole moment.

“Luna, is everything okay?” Matteo asks with his soft, smooth voice that has her shivering in many fantasies and she already feels like melting into small paddle of blushing mess.

But she doesn’t. She gives him small nod, obviously, she has to keep it cool no matter what, despite the fact that she can’t move. Her brain isn’t really helping her in those moments; daydreaming is very, very bad, especially in class when he is real in front of her eyes and all she can do is try to keep her heart beating in any rhythm. He is looking at her with raised eyebrows, kind of amused eyes and small smile. When she doesn’t do any move, hearing Pedro’s snickers obviously, Matteo moves away from his desk and walks slowly towards her, frowning after few steps, and she just wants to disappear in the very moment he picks up her notebook and places it on her desk.

“Are you sure you are fine?” He asks once more and Luna’s head is blank. “Yes, I’m just-”

“She was studying whole night and she is super slow today, so don’t mind her.” Pedro jumps in, grinning completely casually and Matteo sighs. Luna keeps nodding continuously and notices how her friend kicks the chair of girl sitting in front of them and she jumps, exclaiming loudly. “Yes! We were studying together on skype, but I manage lack of sleep better.”

Honestly Luna is kinda thankful for this and she is definitely gonna buy them some alcohol they want, because she had no explanation on her tongue except ‘could you please just stop kissing me in my head?’ and this one doesn’t seem like good idea at all.

“Fine.” The Balsano shrugs. “Just make sure you have notes from today, and start studying earlier, right?”

He winks at her, she dies, Pedro laughs too much and the whatsapp conversation of entire group doesn’t get a break.

This day is basically a mess. Luna managed to oversleep and didn’t have time to brush her hair, so here she is trying to sip the shitty hot chocolate from coffee machine as her high ponytail is tickling her nape. Glasses on her nose are barely keeping in one place and as always she is fixing them with her finger and small growl.

It’s kinda cold today, the sweater is sliding off her shoulder all the time because of her hurrying and putting it too quickly, so it ended up too stretched, but who cares? Is it socially acceptable to not wear a bra? If it’s not that’s a boomer, but she was too much in hurry to care. The only good thing about this morning was the fact that her phone was fully charged and it’s not dying like she is.

They all are waiting in front of chem class, which is gonna start in like 20 minutes, so her friends are talking mostly about random stuff, while Luna only tries to minimize the amount of yawns for an hour to thirty-two. She is scrolling through insta feed, but there is nothing there except kittens and food videos, but this is all she needs at this very moment.

Her ears catch the name Matteo in between the songs and she just looks up at the girls with a smile, reaching for one earphone and taking it away, to listen what they are saying. At first it’s just safe topic, talking about upcoming physics test and Luna is very fine, very comfy with this, so she half gets into the conversation, half focuses on the song played in her other earphone.

Pedro texts her something, asking if she is gonna move her ass to uni and she just snorts texting him to turn around, because he is dumb and blind. Few seconds later she can hear his lame laugh and feel his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

“You are very funny today, tiny you. Tell me, what got you so happy? We aren’t having physics today after all.” He grins and Luna lowkey feels like punching him. Giggles of the girls tell her that they heard that, which means no chill for the Valente today.

Whatever.

“I am not in funny mood. You are the funny one here, Pierre.”

Pedro laughs probably too loud at this version of his name, but no one seems to care. “Are you gonna speak the language of love to me now? Will you finally accept to go out with me, Luna Valente?” He says dramatically, pressing his hands to his chest, over the heart.

Luna opens her mouth to reply, but one of the girls just laughs and shakes her head. “You aren’t half as hot as Matteo, so stop your high hopes here.”

Everyone bursts into laugh, even Luna when Pedro just rests back of his hand on his forehead with dramatic, dramatic sigh. She would focus on the second more, but her phone vibrates with text message. Her brain can manage to handle only one thing at once, so all people are turned off when she answers Simón’s message.

“…Luna, what do you think?” Someone asks and she wakes up, nudged by Pedro once again. “He is hot as hell, right?”

“Who?” She raises her eyebrows, not sure which guy is judged here.

Jazmín rolls her eyes, probably completely done. “Matteo, you silly.”

Luna shakes her head, taking deep breath and ignoring Pedro’s tapping on her shoulder quickly. Despite that she shrugs. “Obviously, people like Matteo, who are so attractive should be kept away from teaching others, because it’s very not helping.” She answers, turning her attention back to her phone and feels how everyone is staring at her weirdly. Their eyes are pointed at behind Luna and her blood suddenly freezes.

“Please don’t tell me he heard that. In any possible way.” She mumbles to herself and turns around, feeling like she got into hell.

Matteo himself looks very amused, and very, very smug. He gives her a small stare before turning to Pedro and giving him a nod. “Good job, buddy. You tried to stop her at least. You are the true friend here.”

Her knees get weak and she feels like falling down, but at the same time she can’t make any of her muscles move and this is the shittiest moment ever, ever.

Matteo crosses his arms, his eyes back to Luna as he sighs. “Looking at your grades I don’t think you should complain that much. Unless, of course, you have someone else to explain what I can’t.” He smiles raising his hands up, as if he is giving up.

“If anyone else has any advice here, just send me an email, I’m always open for new suggestions.” Someone snorts and Matteo laughs fixing his tie. “Anyway-“ he looks at Luna again. “I hope you all have a nice day.” After that he winks at her and leaves, walking through the hallway casually and not looking back.

They look back at her and Luna can’t tell who, but someone pulls her to the chair and gives her water.

Few seconds pass until she manages to speak. “Jesus, fuck, I’m fucked.” Her heart keeps beating too fast as Pedro laughs. “You wish you were, tiny, you wish.”

It’s Friday night and Luna is definitely good at making people think she is drinking as much alcohol as they are. Or maybe they are already drunk. She needs to be drunk. Pedro made her wear pretty dress and go out with them to this one club to chill, forget about the science for once and get some proper hook up, because she has been ridiculous recently. Especially after how she exclaimed loudly that Matteo is probably too hot for her liking. At least her group decided to let her have few days chill and didn’t mention this situation while she was around.

Now she is only sipping slowly her mojito through two straws, playing with the ice in her glass and nodding softly, since her hairstyle is a mess and she’s not the one to fix it right now.

Her lipstick is leaving stains at the straws and Luna sighs deeply, fuck you Kylie Jenner for all your lies. It’s not like she cares about that, but lie is a lie, and it did cost money, so Luna is going to very complain about this, even more after alcohol, so here we are.

Someone tells a joke and everyone laughs, Luna does too, not even knowing what it’s about, though it would be weird if she just stared at them with confused eyes, because she was more concentrated on asking herself what is wrong with her. She should definitely focus on getting drunk with her friends and maybe hit on some hot guy, yet the point is that Luna doesn’t want that. Or more like she does, very much, but not at all at the same time and she is a big mess here, trying to figure what the fuck she should do and how many mojitos to drink. As many as possible; students get discount today.

Pedro rests his elbow on her knee as they all lean towards Jazmín, who seems to be jumping excitedly about something.

“Hey, tiny you, look what she has for you.” Pedro says, poking her and Luna wakes up from all of her thoughts, pressing her lips together to make sure her lipstick isn’t looking like she just made out with a frog.

“What do you want, Peter Pan?” She asks with a sigh, leaning more against him. He only grins. “Our fabulous queen of stalking has news for you.” Luna rolls her eyes and turns to Jazmín who is drinking her margarita with big smile, and all the brunette can notice is the fact that there’s no lipstick stain on her glass and, dear stars, Luna needs it.

“Lu-na, listen, but carefully, okay? Carefully.” No one is sure if that’s the right way to say it, but no one says anything either, so Jazmín jumps on her seat, fixing herself and her eyes are shining showing how tipsy she already is. “I have a friend, she told me that she knows the guy, who knows the guy, who is kinda dating a friend of Matteo and this source told me they like to come here to hang out, so who knows, maybe you will get lucky tonight!”

Everyone laughs and Luna only growls trying to not cover her face with hands, because God protect her from smudged makeup and looking like a very rich badger. She sighs dramatically, and ignoring the straws, empties her glass in completely not ladylike way, because their physics ta is the last thing she needs here.

Pedro laughs at her but gets up pulling her with him and leads towards the bar with intention of getting her another drink. “You know, for a person who fucked him in every possible way in your head, you are pretty embarrassed when someone mentions him.” He snorts softly and Luna sighs dramatically. “It’s because this is, despite everything, very ridiculous idea and you all should stop.”

“But you are so into him!” He exclaims loudly, changing his voice in the half and making Luna laugh. “And he is into you, I’m super sure of this.”

“I don’t care!” She loud-whispers to him. “Just shut up and buy me a drink, please.”

Pedro shakes his head with disapproval. “This mojito is like cheating on normal people who drink normal alcohol, not some fancy wannabe glasses filled with grass and ice. But I guess I won’t win here.”

Luna grins, flicking his nose. “Someone has to know what is happening when you don’t anymore.”

“I hate you.”

She sends him a wink. “That you do.”

He is about to say something, but they both hear someone calling Luna’s name in this very specific way, that just spills who wants her attention.

“Lunita! I see you! Turn around and stop pretending you don’t know who I am.” With every word the voice gets louder and her cousin is either very drunk, or is approaching her and Luna can be never sure which of above is worse.

She decides to turn away from Pedro and not roll her eyes at Ámbar walking towards her on those extra high heels the brunette almost killed herself because of the other day. “Ámbar, it’s such a nice surprise to see you.” She mumbles, kinda lying, kinda not.

It’s actually soothing that someone here is able to kill a person with the spiky heel of a shoe without a blink, no matter of amount of alcohol they drank before. And they are nice to each other since Luna went to college and they can hang out or some shit, even if she is sure her cousin gave her this shitty Kylie lipstick mostly because it sucks.

“Any chance of seeing me is great, obviously.”  The blonde flips her hair, spreading around soft scent of her expensive perfume. “You look pretty, tonight, I would be surprised if not the fact I made you buy this dress.” Ámbar smiles a little proudly and wraps her arm around Luna’s waist.

“Take your drink and come with me to the table over there. I wanted to text you tomorrow anyway. Do you want to meet my friends? They are assholes, but I guess they will be nice when they see you in this dress. And I will promise them death if they are mean.” Luna frowns, not sure  what to say, but Pedro pushes the glass in her hand and winks at her. “Maybe you will catch some hot one there, just be nice, tiny you.”

Ámbar snorts. “Obviously they are hot. I am not friends with ugly people.” Saying that with huge disgust, she pulls lost Luna away from there, talking something about doing well by drinking classy things in the club and that she should start doing this herself, but vodka is stronger than any of her safety reflexes.

Luna just keeps nodding at her, sipping her drink, since the temperature keeps being high as hell, until they get to the blonde’s table. She looks around forcing her brain to memorize faces until she stops on one and chokes.

What the actual fuck is he doing here out of all people in Buenos Aires and how the hell is he friends with Ámbar?

Luna has bo idea so she just stares at him as he is talking to other guy with curly hair and she has no idea what to do now, because if she thought he was hot in class, now this is breaking all his records at once in this black shirt with few first buttons undone, what obviously sticks her eyes to his skin. She is such a mess because of some guy, and she would feel ridiculous if not the fact her brain is fried.

“Hey, idiots, you wanted to meet Luna and now you act like the least classy guys in the city.” Ámbar growls, resting her hands on her hips and suddenly all stares are on Luna. Matteo’s look catches her eyes.

She drops the glass.

The other guy chuckles getting up immediately while Matteo seems to be as lost as Luna herself, but only for few seconds.

The blonde girl shakes her head dramatically. “Since neither of you all is able to think at this very moment, you-” she points at guy with curly hair, “-will get Luna new drink while we all just sit down and try to make you all speak, because r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s.”

The guy smirks widely at Matteo. “No, no blondie, he will go, he was supposed to get new vodka after all so it won’t make a difference.”

Luna is just trying to not faint, because here she is in short dress, wearing high heels, very tipsy and apparently the one and only Matteo Balsano is gonna get her something to drink.

He acts completely casually as Ámbar sits down saying whatever, and approaches her as if he has never seen her again - despite the smirk of the other guy, who probably knows, but Ámbar doesn’t.

“What was in the glass you dropped?” He smirks and she pouts, before opening her mouth to answer, but he interrupts leaning closer. “It’s too loud here, just come with me for it to the bar, is it okay?”

Luna can only nod, wondering if she shouldn’t go for clear vodka today, because any sober, any tipsy, any anything will not help her survive this. She is sure of it when he smiles at her and rests his hand on her lower back in order to lead her out of people dancing around. Someone bumps into her and she almost trips over her own leg which goes unfortunately behind the other, yet Matteo manages to catch her with another hand on her waist. He chuckles softly, but says nothing, pulling her behind a little faster and all Luna can do is follow him as if he is her own icebreaker.

She is praying for neither of her friends to see them; she would end up photographed from every angle and definitely interviewed later, hit by questions like did you finally get laid and are ready to move on with your life? Yeah, not gonna happen. Hopefully. For now Matteo is talking to the bartender casually, leaning his elbows on the counter and smiling widely, since the girl is making his drink with dreamy eyes and Luna feels like dropping another mojito.

That’s totally her luck, though it’s not like she had any expectations; the hottest ones are usually assholes and apparently this one ain’t no exception.

She is ready to leave when he pays, but after he does he just turns to her, completely ignoring the bartender. Luna frowns, yet takes the arm he offers her, they walk away and he leans closer to her. “You don’t seem to be glad that I flirted us half price discount.”

She blinks surprised, not sure if to curse at him again in her head, or just ask what, so she nods softly, making him laugh.

“Looks like that’s a thing you should teach me as well.” She mumbles not really stopping herself from throwing this and Matteo laughs. “Am I not too hot for teaching people anything?”

Luna almost chokes, but keeps herself cool to not spill the drink probably either on her dress or on his shirt.

“Okay, okay, it was just a joke,” he says but it doesn’t feel like a joke at all. His hand is suddenly in front of her and she gives him surprised look. “Are we going to the table?” He asks, offering her his hand.

Luna sighs and looks around. If no one comes from the future to stop her from doing it, then how bad this decision can be? She just smiles and laces their fingers surely, seeing him smile.

“I need help.” Luna says, throwing papers on Matteo’s desk. He looks up at her from above his laptop, his glasses sliding softly off the bridge of his nose. She sighs dramatically, trying to focus, because she drank vodka with this guy few days ago, so no big deal. Not at all.

“Help with what?” He asks raising his eyebrows and lacing his fingers on the desk.

Luna pouts and pushes this little annoying strand of her hair behind her ear. “With physics, obviously. I don’t get a shit here, and I want you to explain it to me.” She says super quickly and guesses she should be nice, so she adds soft: “Please, Matteo.”

He takes deep breath, looking around before he reaches for her papers. The brunette keeps her breathing still for a moment, hoping that he is gonna chill his ass and help her or at least tell her where to start.

“Let me think about this.” He hums softly, looking around as if he is deep in thoughts. “When?” The question falls between them and Luna bites on her lower lip.

“I don’t know, but somewhere before Thursday I guess.”

“I have extra time on Fridays as always, can’t you come to me then?”

Luna crosses her arms with dramatic sigh, not sure how to get out of this. “I can’t on Friday. If I could I wouldn’t bother you the here and now.”

He stands up, brushing the chair against the floor loudly and she scrunches her nose as he gets closer to her and leans back against the desk. “Well then why didn’t you come to me last Friday?” He takes the pencil from his desk and starts playing with it. The tone of his voice breaks a little and shows hints of teasing, but Luna is hopeless here; no one really from her friends gets this shit so Matteo was it, yet he seems to make fun of her.

“Because I was busy, listen, I need this and I need you here.”

“Oh so now you need me? We reached this stage faster than I thought we would.” Luna chokes seeing his smirk when he rolls his sleeves up. “I guess I can give you some hints here and explain this or that, but under one condition here.”

Her shoulders fall with relief, because she knows he wouldn’t pull any weird shit here. “Okay, what is it. Tell me.”

Matteo crosses his arms, as always when he feels that he has the advantage. “You will go out with me, okay?”

#soy luna #lutteo #luna valente #matteo balsano #my writing #ta au