[ 11.25 pm ]
"seriously y/n, what happened to you that made you want to drink this much?" miya osamu queried as he cleaned up the mess of onigiris you made. "you always refuse whenever we go to parties."
"i got fired." you weeped, rotating your head from where it layed on your cheek to bury your nose into the table.
osamu squinted his eyes and scrunched his face up.
"nah, there's no way those idiots would fire someone as competent as you," he poked your forehead. "tell me what really happened."
abruptly lifting your head, you gave the man in front of you a pout. "can't a girl have fun for once!"
he scoffed at your childishness, yet a smile grew on his face nonetheless. "wouldn't take ya as the type to go drinkin alone though."
"no, but you're here with me, so technically i'm not alone." a serious expression showed itself as you stared at him dead in the eyes.
osamu's breathing stifled, but he tried to act unphased and conceal the flush that began to spread over his face.
because he swore he was over you.
the two of you sat in silence for a few seconds, until you burst out in laughter, making the male confused.
you smacked the table you were sitting at as you giggled uncontrollably. it was clear you had too much to drink.
osamu figured that he couldn't even begin to fathom what was going on in your mind and stayed silent, waiting for you to finish your fit of laughter.
you wiped the corners of your eyes despite no tears coming out, and sighed as you eventually calmed down.
"sorry, sorry!" you smiled. "i was just reminiscing about some stuff, that's all."
"care to share what got you laughing so hard?" he snickered, walking over to open a cabinet near the back.
"i was just thinking about how i used to have a fat crush on you back in highschool."
osamu's whole body stiffened.
he freezes, unable to control his body as he wants, causing him to drop the cup of water he wanted to give you.
thank god he wasn't facing you, because he could feel his face overheating to the point where one could mistake that he had a fever.
"'samu? is everything alright over there?"
your voice became muffled, barely audible as osamu breathed heavily, subconsciously tuning out his surroundings as he did so.
the fact that you could admit something so casually was enough to shatter his heart into a thousand pieces.
and to make it worse, it felt like you stepped on those thousand pieces of his heart as he recalled how hard you had laughed from it aswell. it didn't help that you were drunk.
it was obvious that you moved on.
no, of course it was.
so why— why was osamu holding on to that tiny spark of hope that you actually felt something towards him?
it was wrong. it was so wrong.
since you had a boyfriend, and he was just a close friend.
and maybe it wasn't until you admitted to liking him in the past tense that his mind finally pieced together that information.
perhaps the realization just hit him too hard.
the ring of the bell that then came from the door felt like a big punch to the face.
"y/n— y/n! i've been looking all over for you!" a painfully familiar voice called, subtly panting as a sign of exhaustion.
both you and osamu turned your heads over to the source of the sound, but two different reactions adorned your faces as the person approached closer.
your eyes lit up, endearment enveloping your features as you stopped slouching and sat up in your seat. whereas osamu felt his breathing become even more unstable and narrowed his shoulders, attempting to hide his prescence by shrinking his body.
"tsumie!" you squealed at the sight of the blonde.
the perfect fuel to the fire that was burning inside of osamu.
the person who had shown up was miya atsumu.
osamu's twin brother, who just happened to be,
your boyfriend.
it may be that the reason behind why osamu held onto that aspiration was because you were dating someone who looked just like him. it was rude to assume that you were just into someone's looks, but was it really a coincidence that you went from liking him to liking his brother?
what he never will know is what went on behind the scenes between you two, as he never bothered to ask how the two of you got together to save himself the heartache.
osamu decided not to dwell on this matter.
for it was already too late to change anything.
sighing quietly to himself, he picked up the cup that he had dropped earlier and turned back around to face the two of you.
you were resting your head on the shoulder of a pouting atsumu.
"c'mon 'tsumuuu," you dragged the ending of his childhood nickname. "don't be mad, i just went out drinking once! plus, 'samu is here, so it's not like i would get myself into anything dangerous!"
atsumu acknowledged your argument, but felt as though he couldn't back down just yet. he scoffed and turned his head away. "who wouldn't be mad when their girlfriend runs away from practice without notice, and won't pick up their phone either!"
a matching pout grew on your face as you snuggled your face further into his shoulder. "well," you hummed. "you said 'samu was lonely! so i thought i'd come visit him and do something funny to make him laugh a bit, since he's always helping us."
cautiously taking a glance over at you, atsumu found himself giving into your puppy eyes as he did every other day. he took his arms out of the crossed position they were in, pinched both your cheeks and started playing around with them. no words were spoken, yet the message he was trying to convey was clearer than day.
it was like you and him were in your own world. anyone could see that, and it was no different for osamu, who was the one who always got the front row seat. but he couldn't bring himself to dislike his brother, especially not over a girl.
osamu found himself smiling bitterly as he heard that you came here to keep him company after atsumu told you that he was lonely, though he refuses to admit that what his brother said was right.
proven by the unfortunate timing in highschool, the ones who were meant to be were not you and him, but rather you and atsumu.
osamu was fine with sacrificing his own feelings for the two most important people in his life to be happy. truly.
he could only hope that in another universe, in another timeline, in another life, maybe, just maybe, he could've had a happy ending with you.
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On a cursory level, Ephidel has understood what birthdays are. A celebration of the anniversary of one's birth, but the morph has never thoroughly experienced one. The date of his creation unknown, and the passage of time insignificant. Even to Lord Nergal, time had come to lose meaning. But here, now, it was far more important to gain the good graces of the morph's new liege. Gifts were often given, he found, and he watched the Archbishop closely to learn more than just what to offer her. Her gaze was often turned skyward, and a hairbrush was one of the few personal artifacts that even Ephidel possessed. "Your Grace," He speaks softly, the gift offered up to her. A hairbrush of dark ebony, dotted with stars of gold. "On the day of your birth, from your humble servant."
The archbishop of the Church of Seiros is a being made for exaltation, for while she is not Seiros - the Goddess's Sword and Proclaimer, Founder of Empires and Preserver of Bloodlines - she is the closest modern Fódlan has to a saint. She is a link to the furthest reaches of the continent's history and there is little more nobles love than to be remembered in such annals.
(Rhea smiles, because it is true; she remembers all, she remembers and does not forgive. Neither, however, does she pass judgement. It is not her place.)
The words and affirmations that come to her now could so easily be swept aside with the rest of the day's detritus, but something in this gift and its presentation makes Rhea pause; no, as lovely as the hairbrush is, it is the presenter that catches her off guard.
The display is thoughtful, not in the way one would usually use the word in regards to gifts but methodical – dark eyes briefly regard Rhea's deep green ones and she can tell today was only of many times this one has watched her.
Perhaps, that should upset her more, but as their hands briefly touch upon Rhea's accepting of the gift she cannot help but think there is something she recognizes in the newly appointed deacon.
(–their hands are cold, as are Rhea's most often. But the familiarity is not that. It is in the tone of voice, the unpracticed or sometimes too practiced lilt there, that she has come to associate with her own creations.)
"I thank you," she says, "for your generosity. And for remembering the date as that of my birth. Did you know it also the anniversary of Saint Seiros's appearance in Enbarr? I would be happy to tell you more of the legend if you are so interested."
A question asked, but not the one in her heart. Who formed you, she wants to know and the long healed burns of dark magic upon her palms sting, through what means; and furthermore, who, is the one who will take you apart?
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