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kodaiki · 2 years
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꒰ HE STOOD YOU UP ꒱
↳ note ⨾ repost! ↳ genre ⨾ angst ↳ feat. oikawa, ushijima & atsumu ↳ parts: one :: two
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ʚ OIKAWA ɞ
“ma’am?” the waitress who’s been checking on you walks up to your table for the nth time that night. from the sympathetic smile on her face, you already know what she’s about to say. “we really need the table, so if you’re not going to order anything…” her voice trails off, averting eye contact and chooses to look at the menus sitting on the edge of the table, just where she left them when she first showed you to the table.
“i understand,” you smile politely, bringing your small purse closer to you. “sorry for the wait.”
“no, no, we’re, i’m sorry for…” she begins stammering, embarrassed – maybe more embarrassed than you are – about the ordeal.
“have a good night!” you give the nice waitress a winning smile, appearing unfazed about being stood up on. but your eyes tell all.
it doesn’t help that it’s raining out. your heels click against the damp pavement and rain patters against the top of your umbrella as you attempt to hail a cab over. after your second attempt, you smile warmly at the driver who pulls in front of you.
returning home, you’re not surprised at the dimness and silence you hear. oikawa’s been busy at long practices for weeks now. you can’r recall the last time you’ve sat and had a proper meal with him. well, tonight was supposed to be an attempt at that but… he never showed.
you slip off your heels and leave them near the entrance, padding your feet in the direction of your bedroom. stripping yourself from the gorgeous dress you’d spent hours shopping online for, you settle into your ratty pajamas and white fluffy slippers. 
at the rumble of your stomach, you frown with a sigh. 
cup noodles, it is then.
it’s meanwhile you’re picking at the styrofoam cup with a spoon that oikawa bursts through the door.
“y/n!”
“hey tooru,” you murmur a greeting, without bothering to look up at the man, knowing he’ll just make the sinking feeling in your heart worse than it already is.
“baby, i’m so sorry,” oikawa quickly rushes to you, kneeling in front of your sat figure at the kitchen table, taking your hands from the cheap meal. oikawa frowns at the sight of it. “i…i totally forgot.”
“it’s okay,” you sigh, pushing yourself from the table and standing up, making oikawa drop your hands. “how was practice?”
“y/n…” he trails off, nibbling his lip. 
this isn’t the first time oikawa’s flaked out on a date. hell, in the past few months, he’s flaked out on at least two. and those times he did, man, did he hear your wrath.
“it was humiliating!”
“why didn’t you call me?”
“everybody was staring at me!”
but now, here you were, dejected about it all. oikawa almost wants you to yell at him instead.
“y/n,” he tries again, reaching for your hands but they’re occupied holding the cup you’re walking over to the trash to throw out.
“i’m heading to bed. it’s been a long day.”
“i’m sorry!” he apologizes at your turned away figure walking toward the bedroom.
“yeah,” you hum, chuckling dryly. “aren’t you always.”
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ʚ USHIJIMA ɞ
ushijima is a hard worker in everything he sets his mind to. he was a hard worker in school, and an especially hard worker when it came to being on court. as a boyfriend, though, there are some doubts that swirl in the far back of your mind.
you love your boyfriend, you do. some would call him aloof, rarely matching your energy when you gush about something your excited about or when you tug his arm on one of your days out shopping. but there a warmth in his eyes, albeit a twinkle, that only you can see during those moments.
“can you please wait a few more minutes?” there’s optimism in your tone as you ask the waiter, who looks rather exhausted with his job. or maybe it’s just you he’s exhausted with… this is his third visit to your table, after all.
“i’m sorry miss, but it’s been thirty minutes. you need to give up the table.”
“my boyfriend is just running a little late, that’s all,” you mumble firmly as you twist the fabric napkin on your lap between your manicured fingers, maybe to convince yourself. maybe if you speak it into existence enough, it’ll make the fact true. ushijima is just running a little late. he’s racing through traffic at that moment, just to sit in the seat across yours.
“again, i’m sorry miss, but the restaurant’s policy says to give up the table exceeding thirty minutes without order.”
“oh,” you sigh glumly, shoulders drooping in defeat.
of course a fancy restaurant like this one would have that sort of policy, it only took months for you to snag the reservation at the popular establishment.
you gather your belongings and tuck them under your arm and stand from the table. couples all around stare at you with either perplexed expressions, or just plain pitiful ones. you hated being pitied for.
you leave the restaurant with a quickness, walking through the parking lot, searching for your car among fancy, expensive cars parked. only when you settle into your car, does your tight lipped facade drop.
you sigh, frown pulling your cheeks downward, as you drive in silence back to your home. when you reach your home, you head straight for the bathroom and get the bath ready.
while you bathe, you look over at your phone, in case your boyfriend happened to text you back but ti no avail.
ushijima usually silenced his phone while he was at practice so it isn’t very surprising to receive no answer from him. still, you thought he would’ve remember your date by now.
hours later, ushijima steps inside your home, dropping his keys on the hook near the door and shuffles out of his shoes, taking note of your heels at the foot of the door. his resting frown deepens further at the recollection of your planned night.
he walks swiftly to your bedroom, opening the door and his eyebrows crease in regret at the sight; you’ve already gone to bed.
you never go to bed without saying good night to him first.
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ʚ ATSUMU ɞ
“atsumu,” you seethe into the phone, trying to remain as quiet as possible in the restaurant. “where are you!?”
“‘m practicing,” he drawls through the phone, tone sounding too casual for your liking. “why?”
“what do you mean, why? we have a date!”
“oh, right,” he sighs. “i forgot about that…”
“they’re asking me to give up the table.” your lip is caught between your teeth as his words, as blunt as they came out, strike into your heart. he forgot?
“i wouldn’t make it in time,” he mumbles. you half expect an apology from him but he quickly perks up. “hey, how ‘bout you just order my usual and bring it to me as leftovers i’ll eat when i get home?”
your lips part in shock at his request. he wanted you to continue the date… all alone?”
“atsumu, you can’t be ser-”
“crap, gotta go babe. i’ll see ‘ya later!”
he has the audacity.
with a newfound pride, you sit back and call the waiter over, ready to give your order.
it’s nine o’clock when atsumu comes home and your cuddled on the couch, watching whatever rerun you could find that you found appealing.
“i’m home!”
you only avert your gaze when atsumu begins rubbing his hands together as he makes his way to the refrigerator in anticipation. opening the door, he looks at the inside expectantly, only to furrow his brows in confusion.
“y/n? where’s the food?”
“hm? oh, i didn’t have leftovers so i didn’t bring any.”
“i said to order my meal, too!” he whines, turning to you.
you let out a laugh, though it’s humorless. “i was not doing that.”
“why not?”
“you stood me up!”
he scoffs. “tch, stood you up. i had practice!”
yes, but you, you both made plans.
your roll your eyes. “yeah, yeah, it’s always practice isn’t it?”
“whats that supposed to mean?” his tone harshens and his eyes narrow down at you.
“it means what I said,” your tone is equally as firm and you stare him down as well.
something about you and atsumu’s relationship is that you matched each other’s energy. while, it could be seen as something beneficial like when the two of you work together, in place of an argument, like where this conversation is going, it’s not so helpful.
the stare-down only breaks off when he looks away, scoffing again. “s’rsly…? this is how the night’s going to go? i just got back, i’m tired, hungry-”
“you didn’t even apologize…” your voice falls to a whisper, fiery tone and eyes long gone as you recall the reason for your poor mood. “i was so embarrassed and then you told me to order something for you?”
atsumu’s own glare falls when you look down.
“shit, y/n-”
“forget it.” you shake your head, sighing. “you don’t have to say it. i’m just going to bed.”
you’re tired.
atsumu reaches his arm out, as if being feet away from you with his arm extended would be enough to grasp you. you slip out of the room, quietly closing the bedroom door behind you.
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kodaiki · 2 years
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[2:05 a.m.]
it’s two in the morning when miya atsumu calls you. your finger hovers over the decline button as you stare owlishly at the familiar contact. what once had a smiling photo was replaced with the faded look of the letter ‘a.’
you don’t get the chance to answer, your daze lasting longer than the ringtone of the call. and, just as you were about to turn over your phone and return to watching the show you were binging, your phone rings again.
you hesitate again but decide to go against what your mind screams at you to do, and press the green button.
“hello?”
“y/n,” atsumu answers as if he’s out of breath. he’s genuinely surprised you answer the phone, albeit he called twice. to be fair, you’re surprised, too. “how-how are ‘ya?”
you roll your eyes. “what do you want atsumu?” you cut to the chase, voice clipped.
on the other end of the line, atsumu reels away from the phone to wince. yeah, he should’ve expected some hostility, especially after what he’d done.
atsumu was your boyfriend of eleven months before you broke up. the thought brings a familiar bitter feeling in your chest. to think, you poured your heart into a relationship for nearly a year.
atsumu wasn’t exactly an easy person to get along with. teammates and even friends of his complained about him whenever they had the chance. but to you, he was perfectly imperfect. so, when he began being standoffish by month nine of being with you, you simply figured it was one of his moody periods. something he had to grow out of on his own.
but that just wasn’t the case was it?
all it took was a bottle of wine and it all came crashing down.
you remember how atsumu’s words were all slurred as he gushed about whatever was at the top of his head. and while you giggled at it at first, that didn’t last very long.
you and atsumu stayed at the bar long after the rest of his teammates left. you mentioned something about getting him home when you knew he wouldn’t be too fussy. if only you dragged him out of that bar earlier…
“y’looked pretty in your dress today,” atsumu had slurred, looking rather bashful as he holds his chin up with the palm of his hand and elbow rested atop the bar counter.
you furrowed your eyebrows, confused since you weren’t wearing a dress that day nor saw him until the evening. he must be thinking of some other day…
“y/n doesn’t dress up for me anymore,” he had sighed, rolling his eyes. “she doesn’t even make me feel like…well, like you do, rika. y’know?”
you blinked at him expectantly. rika had been the publicist assigned to the msby black jackals for a story to interview the new players on the roster, you boyfriend being one of them.
your face fell as did you stomach at the sound of her name. you never brought it up but you were certain you caught her stealing glances at atsumu when she thought you wouldn’t notice.
did he really believe he was talking to his publicist? when atsumu got drunk, he did lose some sense of sight (due to the dimness of his eyes as they were lidded down) and all rationality so it wasn’t too farfetched.
“and how do i make you feel?” you had asked, voice just above a whisper. your eyes stayed trained on the front of atsumu’s button up, too fearful at looking into his eyes as you heard the following words he had to say.
“like i’m on top of the world.”
his words are blunt and cut through your heart effortlessly. your eyes brim with tears as your breath hitches in your throat.
“but,” he sighed, as if disappointed, “i’m with y/n.”
atsumu never noticed your tears. not when he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you helped him home, nor when he slept beside you soundly. the following morning, atsumu awoke in your shared apartment to half of your belongings missing from your room.
your breakup was curt and to the point, just like his drunken words. the guilt on his face as he remembered that he revealed his true feelings was enough to make you laugh pitifully. you cut ties with him, without so much of any angry words from you. atsumu wishes you yelled at him, that sort of reaction would’ve been much more bearable that that icy layer you had on then.
so why now was miya atsumu calling you?
“i uh, i miss you.”
you blink at that, rubbing at your eyes to make sure you weren’t having a dream, or better worded, a nightmare.
“you miss me,” you deadpan.
“i really do. i know i fucked up all those months ago when i said those things but i don’t mean ‘em! not…not anymore.”
you laugh at that. “i’m assuming you and rika didn’t work out?”
“well, yeah, but that’s not the point!” he sounds desperate, urging you to hear him out.
“it is though,” you sigh. “as soon as you realized it didn’t work out with her, here you are calling me because you lost something good. but atsumu, you’re just going to have to face that you can’t win everything back you lose just because you came to a new revelation.”
“y/n,” he pleads. “no one else can replace you!”
you stay silent for a moment but then you nod. “you’re right. goodbye atsumu.”
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kodaiki · 2 years
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[12:30 A.M.]
kagami taiga is awful at watching movies.
you could never say it to his face though because — my god, your kagami being bad at something? impossible.
but there he is, lounging on the couch with one leg up resting against the arm rest and and arm behind his head, propping himself in a comfortable position facing the t.v., softly snoring as not even the halfway point of the movie plays in front of you.
not even the glare from the t.v. during scenes of drastic lighting change affect the man who doesn’t even budge.
“i saw that coming,” you muse quietly, reaching over to rake your fingers through the redhead’s hair. you smile at the fact that unconsciously, he leans up into your hand slightly, though makes no move to open his eyes.
“you’re the one who wanted to watch this,” you continue softly. to who? maybe kagami if he’s half awake, or otherwise, the t.v. screen playing something that may be important to the plot of the movie. but you don’t mind not paying attention.
not when you’re looking at a relaxed kagami.
the man’s eyebrows seemed to be always furrowed until the moment he falls asleep (or look at you as his team likes to tease) where all the muscles in his face relax, leaving him look rather peaceful.
you're sitting cross legged with a blanket laying over you - you were always the cold one while kagami was always warm. let's just say, cuddling sessions were equally beneficial.
you scoot closer to him, moving your hand from atop his head, in his red locks, onto his face. with delicacy, you trace along his sculpted bones, lighting passing his brows, down his nose, to his cheek bones, and then to his jaw.
he hums groggily when you reach the ticklish spot on his jaw below his ear. you retract your hand away, worried that you might've woke him up. you wait for a few seconds for him to stir or mumble something but he never does. he continues to lightly snore, occasionally twitching his nose.
you place your hand back in your lap and return your attention back to the t.v. with a slightly confused expression, you attempt to guess what happened prior when you weren't paying attention, using context clues.
well, at least i'll finish the movie, you think with a knowing smirk, briefly glancing over at your boyfriend.
after a few moments, you find yourself lost in the plot, staring blankly at the screen.
with a huff, you turn to the sleeping man. "i blame you for me being confused."
when you turn back to the t.v., you don't expect a response.
"'s not my fault you'd much rather stare at me than the movie."
you laugh out a gasp, swatting your supposedly sleeping boyfriend's arm. "i thought you were sleeping!"
"i was- ow! don't swat me," kagami opens his eyes, gripping your wrist gently. at your smile, he can't help but mirror your expression, pulling you closer.
"what are you doing-!" your question gets caught in your throat, when you pressed flush against his chest and his arms snake around your mid-back.
"going back to bed," he murmurs against your hair, closing his eyes once more.
"but the movie, tai," you mumble, glancing at the t.v. still on. the heaviness of your eyelids tell you you shouldn't really protest much.
"we'll try again tomorrow night," he hums before pecking your head. "go to bed."
and who were you to refuse when you were wrapped in the heater that was kagami taiga? the most relaxed man whenever he was around you.
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