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~{🎵}~
~{🎵}~
A loud pounding echoes through the change room, seemingly amplified with the lack of bodies taking up space. Sweat slicked brown wisps crumple against the person's large hand, the gritting of his teeth so harsh it becomes fairly audible. Another hand remains clenched against the white hollow surfaces of the lockers, fist ever so slightly pulsing with the tension exerted from his overworked fingers.
His team had long left the school after packing up, but he remained, allowing for him to tackle his frustrations undisturbed. It wasn't often that he'd be able to vent like this without Iwaizumi or one of his teammates to cool him down- maybe it was just his luck today. If only it had been focused to other areas, he wished.
His fist roughly came in contact with the wall again, the red hue spreading from the sides of his palm to the stark white mounds of his knuckles. The dull ache that lingered didn't have any calming effect at all. Instead he sunk to the ground, eventually turning so his back faced the wall.
"I..."
Flashbacks of previous games with Shiratorizawa invaded his thoughts, and he soon corrected himself when the memory of his junior high after match came back. He remembers Hajime, his breakdown, that summer evening. He remembers how his bones shook when he tried to stand, throat welling up as he comes to the words that changed him.
"We lost..." The "we" seemed to lift a small shred of disappointment, but not enough for him to get up, go home, and regain himself.
The smell of his own sweat overtakes his nose, the salty scent like a bad sore that wouldn't go away and pulsed wih pain, filled with the wasted efforts he exerted onto himself. Although it had been long gone since they left the stadium, clear beads still trailed down the sides of his face, stinging with the dried liquid that remained. His face felt warm, the heat radiating from the corners of his eyes.
Upon realizing this, he gave off a small laugh at himself, covering his face with a chalky hand. He feels pathetic. Worn down. The words he speaks repeat in his head with the tepid breaths that bounced back to his lips. Just how big of a space did volleyball occupy in his heart? Enough that it was able to shatter the conglomerate of masks he wore, each possessing an emotion only when it seemed appropriate.
Every loss seemed to feel like this.
He landed another punch to the cold, hard linoleum floor beneath him, residual tears cascading with the sudden jolt of his head. The harsh contact pulsed a dull ache up through his arm, pressure surrounding his skull that made him wince in pain. Light-headedness soon followed, causing the bush of dark brown hair to tilt, letting his neck go lax.
How was it that he was able to keep so calm out there- on the court- where there were clearly less distractions to thwart him than in here? His brain was littered with petals that kept descending upon the puddle of his mind. He needs a touch- something that would ripple all of that clutter away. There was nothing else to think about, and yet there was lots to think about. A pillar could never stay standing forever. His headache worsened.
Blurred white was all he saw looking up, and his half lidded eyes nearly sunk when a timid knock re-widened his warm chocolate hues. He glanced to the clock on the wall, noting it was rather late. He shouldn't have been expecting anyone at this hour.
"Excuse me, is there anyone in here?"
That airy voice- yet firm as it rids the present sharpness in his eyes, melting it away. How long has he known that familiar treble- to see it mature, to see it slowly deepen year after year? It's been by his side for as long as he could remember through insults, greetings or words of encouragement.
"{f/n}-chan?" He croaks out, staring at the fleshy tones behind the frosted glass. For some reason he is able to stand, feet lighter than air as he feels gravitated to see you. The towel around his neck falls to the floor, not minded. He doesn't feel afraid to let himself be broken in front of you. What he needed now was...
You hear the familiar honorific spoken to you, though subdued, and strained. Impulses to figure out the uncharacteristic nature of his voice worries you, but before you laid a finger on the knob, the door opens with a steady groan.
His taller form was backlit with the descending sun from behind him, and it accentuated the way his eyes seemed to lack sparkle; the aura around his body dark like the clouds before a storm. You were taken aback with what was presented before you. You've only seen it once after his junior high match, but this was different. These were real tears.
The feeling of cold, hard defeat was present in the drooping colour from his eyes, his rivals taunting him like the sun he craved but ultimately could never reach. The way his lips quivered as he mouths incoherent words, the squeaks of his shoes as they ache to be near you- everything just happens all at once. The puddle soon became victim of pattering raindrops, ripples forming everywhere.
'We should have... We didn't... I couldn't... If only I...'
The downpour reaches it's peak as he comes almost crashing onto you, making your feet stagger backwards trying to support his weight. His minuscule sobs muffle themselves through your clothing. He doesn't care if anyone sees him.
"I'm sorry," His strained cries fade, and his arms loosen slightly around you. "I'm so sorry... I promised you that'd I-"
"Tooru." You say softly, soothingly, petting whatever sweaty hairs you came across on his head.
Oikawa swears that an ocean breeze rings in his ears, your arms silencing the waves still crashing over the glassy amber-brown hues, like the overcast moving away to allow the kiss of your warmth to calm his waters.
"When did you ever promise me anything?"
Ah, so that's it.
He was so wrapped up in everything that he doesn't realize he had just confessed in the most subtle of ways.
"..."
"I know about... today." You say painfully slow, Oikawa's stomach lurching with the weight of those words. He's waiting for you to yell at him. He waits for you to respond negatively his unpleasant news. But somewhere in the back of his head, he's expecting the same old praise that did nothing but make him wish that it wasn't necessary.
"You need to stop being such a baby..." You say unexpectedly, nearly laughing.
Then his heart aches some more, trying to recollect the bits of his pride that were scattered all over the place. He wishes not to be held by you, proving he can stand on his own, but he's overcome by an intolerable pain only another presence can lift. His subconscious schemes this in his mind. He secretly wanted to you comfort him- to tell him it's okay. But you didn't.
And somehow, the lack of sympathy disintegrates those pesky petals away, de-cluttering the serene puddle once bombarded by useless noise. His mind regains clarity, just a little at a time, and takes the moment to gaze into your pools of {e/c}. They seemed to drag him towards you, his desires melting with the heartstrings that encircled his being when you smiled lovingly at him.
"You can't let that stop you. You can't let anyone stop you- Oikawa Tooru, you're bound to go places. So what if they stole that chance from you? You're still alive- that means your journey isn't over."
It hits him hard whenever anyone talks to him without sugarcoating anything. It doesn't just fade way like with Iwaizumi- it sticks with him- becomes a part of him- and he finds himself to be unable to leave you.
"You can still stand... see?"
The pads of your fingers massage the tenseness in his cheekbones. He feels a final ray of your sunshine cast upon him, settling into the warmth of your palm. Grasping it into his own, he presses a small kiss to your forehead, eyes half-lidded as the distance between your bodies recedes in a rich mix of gratitude and affection. He almost smiles back.
"I know," He whispers, the warmth permeating your beings translating into the sincerity of his words.
"Good."
In to life some rain must fall
But I see the sun
Behind the clouds...
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A Breath Of Fresh Air|Oikawa Tooru [Reader-Insert]
Anxiety.
That was the one simple word which summarized his entire condition. Albeit it being a simple single word, it came with many things: causes, symptoms, unexplainable consequences, erratic emotions, and lastly, levels.
“How bad was it?”
“Rate it from 1-10. 1 being the lowest as if someone pinched you, and 10 being an unbearable amount of pain.”
What did that even mean?
How was he suppose to determine his pain? His head was already a filthy mess of suffocating thoughts and the big ‘what ifs’ that it felt like if he thought about anything else, he would just break. He did not want to think about t
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[Him not Me] Akaashi Keiji x Reader
Autumn
You stood nervously near the gym carrying a small bag in your tender hands. The bouncing volleyballs echoed in your ears, mimicking the quick beating of your heart.
“[L/N]? What are you doing out here?”
He walked over to you, still slicked with sweat from hours of practice, which only increased his attractiveness. Your heart rate increased with each closing step he took and you felt faint from nervousness.
“Uhm. Uh… Here!” you shoved the bag in his direction, and he gave you a bemused look.
“I thought you would be hungry after practice… That’s all.”
“Oh? Thank you [L/N]!
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Strangers
Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader
Soulmate AU: Once you meet your soulmate, it's impossible for you to tell anyone else that you romantically love them.
"There he is!"
"There's Oikawa!"
You immediately turn your head to the other end of the hallway. Screams and squeals can be heard. A crowd gathers around a tall figure who you knew all too well.
He was the resident hearthrob: Oikawa Tooru. Of course you knew who he was, you had quite the admiration for him as well. But you never gathered with his fanclub. They intimidated you. Each girl in there acted like they owned Oikawa so they were all very rude when you tried to butt in and talk to their id
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kumo= clouds
i don't know if I can write properly anymore haha
its oikawa he's turning my stories to trash
also that OST track is literally my life. I want it to last longer. I want the sadness to tear me up like he did. and I miss him. all the memories I shared. the smiles he put on my face. the first time I saw him cry.
//coughs//um...
comments are welcomed and appreciated <3
Oikawa Tooru (c) Haruichi Furudate
I do not own you or the original picture.
© 2015 - 2024 erianna3707
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This is really wonderful