OH MY GEE

A DISTANT LOVERㅤ boyfriend! nagi seishiro x gn! reader — angst + fluff [ 2.0k+ wc ] cws none ! MDNI

ㅤnagi seishiro was a distant lover, or so he thought.

nagi seishiro was a distant lover.

not because of all the reasons people were always so quick to judge him for, though.

nagi loved you — and contrary to popular belief, his love for you was way stronger than his passion for videogames or soccer or anything else he deemed worthy of his time. you were his first love, one of the few people who saw him for who he truly was and accepted him for it. he knew you didn’t fully understand him, and he couldn’t judge you because he himself didn’t fully get why he was the way he was at times, but the fact that you didn’t leave him for all the things he did but couldn’t explain and instead incentivized him to push forward to try to learn the source of all of it made his heart flutter, that compassion something not many people had shown him so far. he loved you more than he could ever put into words, more than he could understand, more than life itself even — but he was still nagi, the weird kid who got a cactus only because a plant he had to water every so often was enough company for him, and the lonely kid who had spent most of his school years all alone being treated as a weirdo — reo’s arrival in his life the only thing that stopped him from spending all of them that way. he had grown, years had passed since then and if that period could be considered his life’s rock bottom, he was now undeniably at the peak of it, having an established career in the sport he took so much enjoyment from and a partner who loved him to the moon and back — but even with all that, even with all the highs he had accomplished and all the lows he had gotten over, he was still the old nagi in many ways, and what he for a while thought were stupid habits he would eventually get over as he grew and matured, were now things that impacted his life more than ever, and those thoughts hurt him, because he wished it didn’t have to be like that, wished he could be different.

nagi seishiro was a distant lover for many reasons, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t control any of them.

he had a hard time opening up to you about his feelings; nagi loved you, he knew that, and to some degree he was sure you did too, but he was also aware that you didn’t know just how deep his feelings actually ran, and that was entirely his fault. he remembered to tell you ‘i love you’ each time he departed from you in the morning or before drifting to sleep at night, but that wasn’t enough to show just how smitten he was with you because although he always remembered to repeat those three, powerful words, he lacked in what should come after. he was never able to explain why, was never able to look at you and tell you that you made him feel like the luckiest man alive and that he would give everything he had worked so hard for up and even burn the entire world down to ashes if that meant not losing you. he loved you more than he loved himself, loved you more than the sun loved the moon, loved you more than the flowers love the rain — loved you more than anything else in the word, more than words could even begin to describe. his feelings were indescribable because words had yet to be invented for them to be able to be correctly and fully expressed, but he should still be able to try to narrate them to you, and the fact that he couldn’t hurt him. they were overwhelming — in the best way possible, obviously — and nagi could never even chose the words to begin to at least explain that to you, tell you the he loved you but that his love was so great that he wasn’t able to even measure it himself, and because of that, he felt like he lacked, felt like you would never know how he truly felt and would just stick around because you felt bad for him.

unknowing to him though, you understood your boyfriend better than he assumed you were capable of. you didn’t know how deep his love for you ran within him, that part was true, but you knew he treasured and loved you more than anything in his life, and that was more than enough for you, the struggle to express feelings one you understood all too well too, even if nagi didn’t notice it.

beyond that, though, nagi seishiro was also a distant lover because he could never find enough time to be with you; or at least he thought so. for a good chunk of the year, nagi had a packed schedule, his job one that forced him to travel more than he would like and spend more time away from you than he could handle. he missed you all too much, the weeks he had to spend away from you always feeling endless and like a punishment, the pace in which they passed torturous due to how slow it was, and the day he would finally fly back home to you always seeming unreachable. he hated having to be away even if for just a day, hated leaving you alone, hated feeling far away from you, hated being physically distant from you. he hated every part of it, and because of it, at moments where he felt hopeless, he hated his job, wished he could leave it and start doing something else that would allow him to be close to you every day — the only reason he hadn’t done so yet being your insistence on him continuing to pursue it because it would be a waste of all his hard work if he just gave up like that. still, that wasn’t enough to satiate his longing, to make him miss you any less, to make him stop despising his career path. the facetime calls, the texts, even the times you would sometimes travel to meet him — none of that was enough to him because he still felt like he was failing you, making you feel alone, and it was all his fault.

you didn’t see things that way, however, and if you knew nagi did, you would remember to tell him that you didn’t view him like some monster for having a life apart from you and your relationship more often. you missed him, missed him more than you could describe and about that you would never lie, but you also found happiness in seeing your boyfriend go after his dreams, found happiness in seeing him run so freely throughout the big, green field and found happiness in celebrating all his goals and victories with him. you hated that you had to be apart from him for weeks at a time, but the glee and anticipation you felt whenever you met again after that time separated overshadowed it, made it feel worth it, even. him having goals and aspirations only made you love him more, not hate him in any way.

and to finalize it all, nagi seishiro was a distant lover because he wasn’t as affectionate as he should; he wasn’t a touchy person, he enjoyed his personal space and didn’t crave physical touch that often. he still kissed your forehead whenever he came home from practice at night, still cuddled you every time you drifted off to sleep next to each other, and still held your hand when you were out and about together — but somehow, to nagi, that never felt like enough. he should do more, he thought, should touch you more, should kiss you more, should hold you more, should do everything more, but he just couldn’t, and he hated himself for it. other people made it seem so effortless, physical touch something expected from a relationship, something that came naturally along with it, but he couldn’t seem to give you enough of it, always feeling like he lacked in that department like he lacked in so many others. he wondered how others did it, wondered why you didn’t complain about it, wondered why you were settling for less than you could get, and all those thoughts killed him because they made him feel worthless, another reason for him to feel like he wasn’t enough, wasn’t good enough for you. he tried his best, tried to reach out for you more frequently and tried to initiate those displays of affection as often as he could — but sometimes he was unable to do so, sometimes he just wanted to be alone in his own bubble with you sitting a few inches away from him on your own world too, and that made him feel guilty, because what sort of boyfriend thinks of that as good alone time with their partner?

nagi does, and you were alright with it, because any second you could spend with him was time well spent. you enjoyed your nightly cuddle sessions, enjoyed holding his hand when you were out together, and enjoyed each kiss he pressed against your skin when he came home at night more than anything else. you always knew he wasn’t a touchy person, knew he enjoyed keeping his distance from the moment you met him, and that never stopped you from loving him or made you love him any less — if anything, it only made your heart beat faster anytime he leaned towards you because you knew he wasn’t doing it subconsciously, that he was doing it purposefully because he wanted to show you that he loved you, his thought out effort into showing his affection more meaningful than if he did it without thinking twice, you thought.

nagi seishiro was a distant lover for many reasons, and he thought about them so often that he could say them out loud from the top of his head as if they were part of a script he had spent years studying and memorizing — but that was exactly the problem, they were all inside his head, all things he had thought about and assumed you disliked him for so, when with a broken voice and heavy tears cascading down his face he opened up to you about all those demons, about all those thoughts that kept him up at night, about all his weaknesses, you hugged him close, hugged him hard and stronger than you ever held, allowing your boyfriend to open up to you while sniffling and sobbing against your neck as you kissed the top of his head, giving him space to talk at his own pace, letting him get everything off his chest that had been burdening him. you listened and tried to understand, secretly happy that he trusted you enough to confess such things, and by the end of it, when his crying had calmed down and he wasn’t holding you as tightly, already waiting for you to break up with him, you smiled faintly, and you hugged him tighter, and you kissed him one last time before you moved to cup his cheeks instead, making him face you so you could look straight into his eyes as you told him just how much you loved him, and just how much none of those things mattered to you, how you didn’t see him in any way that resembled what he had just described. you didn’t invalidate his feelings like nagi was scared you would, on the contrary, you actually made him feel seen, understood, and above all, loved for who he was in a manner that he had never felt before. you didn’t hate him for all the traits of his persona he thought of as flaws, instead, you loved him for them, and as stupid as that could be, nagi had never thought of that as being a possibility.

nagi seishiro was anything but a distant lover, you two concluded at the end — he was caring, committed, loving in his own way and more than willing to put effort into your relationship, and at the end of the day, that was what actually mattered.

N-AGIZ '22ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

Reblog and tag the person you reblogged this from with what kind of magic you think they’d perform. Ex. Fire magic, ice magic, Necromancy, etc

HUHHHHHTHESE ARE SO COOL

Some Enstars fake cards I did of Nazuna/exValk for good ol’ Twitter dot com spanning about 5 years (help me)

Not in chronological order.

word count: 285.

thinking about how indifferent blade will be when you confess your feelings to him. blade doesn’t see himself as a human being. he doesn’t think he has the right to feel things, not when he has been cursed by immortality by someone who he considered as a friend.

thinking about how blade will sneer when you finished pouring out your feelings. he will call you hurtful things: “are you stupid?”, “what makes you think i’ll love someone like you?”, “the thought of me being with you makes me sick.”

thinking about how blade ignored your teary eyes and heartbroken state. he walked away, without sparing a glance at you. he knew this wasn’t the right thing to do but as long as you’re out of harm's way, then he will continue living with the guilt buried in his body.

thinking about how blade gradually misses your presence. no matter what he does or where he goes, all he can think about is you. your laughter. your soothing touch. your bright and lifeful eyes. the yearning in his heart gradually consumed him until one day, he had enough.

thinking about how blade gathers up the courage and visits your home. the man was confused with how unusually silent it was. he was about to sneak in when your neighbor saw him and gave him a solemn look; a look he knew all too well.

thinking about how blade wallowed in regret. how he wished he could turn back time. how he wished he could take back the words he said to you. how he wished he was by your side, holding your hands and kissing you whenever he could. how he wished you were still alive.

note: lmao :3

when ur mutuals all reblog the same post and u have to choose which mutual ur gonna reblog it from

I’VE BEEN SUMMONED DID I HEAR KARASU?? pls he’s so precious to me 🥺🫶 he’s such a little shit i feel it in my bones. (my fave trope with him is def academic rivals to *wink wonk* more but regardless) you totally have one of those relationships where you just playfully roast each other and purely communicate in jabs. you’d think he actually hates you, but if anyone else talks shit about you he’s quick to brutally cut them down bc “‘m the only one who gets to badmouth you, kay, my sweet little nemesis?” he’d TOTALLY call you shit like that to piss you off i wanna kick him with my mouth. “my precious headache. my loveliest irritation. my most beloved torment.” it’s never your name, only my, my, my and whatever he decided to annoy you with that day. and you’re confused, because you know him in a very specific context due to the nature of your whatever-ship, but you don’t actually know him because you’ve never once had a serious conversation with him ever. and you think it’s time you change that. “if you’re free this weekend, let’s get milkshakes. my treat.” and karasu already has that permanent smirk curving on his mouth. “what’s this, my prettiest groupie? that desperate for company?” “if you keep being an ass i’ll invite someone else on a date.” and for the first time, you’re able to knock that smirk right off his face and render him into a wide-eyed, flustered mess. because he’s like oh. oh. a date. you’re actually serious. and he’s liked you for so long he doesn’t know what to do with himself, or his arms, but he knows he’s blushing profusely and you look all smug, but for once he’ll let it pass because he’s been horrendously and painfully flirting with you for the past year and holy shit you just asked him on a date. he’s a dork underneath all that sass and brains i KNOW HE IS

DIZZY DIZZY DIZZY <3333 guhh you do not know how much i enjoy academic rivals to lovers i eat that shit up so hardd and god with karasu it's even better. when he started calling you things like "my sweetest inconvenience" it started off as a joke. he enjoyed the way your brows knitted together at the sound of his voice, the irritated twist of your lip and he loves when you quip back.

but as it carries on, he realizes that while he's been teasing you through the my, my, my game, he's started to truly desire you for himself. he wants to call you his. you're mine. he wants it. wants it more than anything. imagine a rivals to fwbs plot where after he's realized his feelings, you get heart broken by the person you love, and he makes himself available to you as a vice, to vent out your frustrations on and to help you feel good.

he can handle it, he thinks. he's smart, has control over himself. he'll be fine.

but as he cups your face in his palm, grazing your cheek with his thumb, looking into your tear-filled. discontented eyes as he says, "'m sorry 's how it turned out for ya, my sweet." he stuns himself with the fact that he didnt add any more to it. my sweet.

my sweet what? everything, he thinks later, after you're gone and he's all alone in his bed again. arms crossed behind his head, the sheets bunched up around him smelling of you. you're my sweet everything.

and he wishes so badly for you to feel the same about him. maybe he cant handle it, after all.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・.・゜

“—No thank you.” How many has it been since then? “I'm not interested.” Rejection after rejection.

You could only stare as Rin turned down another box of chocolates one of the girls prepared for him on this specific day. You watched as the expression on the girls face turned sour, nose scrunching, and forced a quivering smile out of her.

“Ah, I see.” You watched as she walked away in a solemn manner. Yeah, you watched.

That's what you've been doing all day. You watched as your best friend rejected every person that dared to offer him anything on Valentines, and each time you see another one approaching—it strikes fear within your heart.

Because you knew, had you not decided to be a wuss and hide the love letter in your bag earlier that morning—you'd probably be the one in their shoes. Rin gestured for you to follow him after a few seconds of standing in the middle of the hallways, and you reluctantly followed, a bit tired now that you've finally reached the end of the day.

You heaved a heavy sigh, “Are you tired?” Rin asked, staring while you stretched your back. You hummed, before chuckling, “A bit, I got pushed around by your fans a lot. But it was worth it, seeing them all fawn over you was hilarious.” You joked.

It was true though, no matter how painful their harsh pushes past you were—seeing them fight over one guy was funny to watch. Even if that one guy was the person you were currently unrequited with. Rin stayed quiet, one hand reaching over to unzip his bag and rummaged through it.

You stared in anticipation, not sure as to what he was looking for. “Here.” To your surprise, Rin held a box of chocolates in front of you. Your eyes widened, wondering where and when he got the chocolates, “It's from one of the people who gave it to me, I'm not sure who, I forgot.” You being the tired person you were, thought nothing of it and instead slowly held the end of the box while his fingers tightly gripped onto the other one.

“I don't really like chocolate, they taste like wax.” He murmured quietly, a small stitch to his eyebrows already said a lot about what he felt. “They're lukewarm, right?” You playfully teased, and Rin unsurprisingly nodded his head in agreement.

“Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then.” You hummed, usually the two of you go home together, so why is he in a rush now? “Aren't we gonna go home together?” You asked way too quickly, not even considering that fact that he must be tired after being the star of the whole school earlier.

“Sorry, that sounded desperate...” Your apology was immediately followed by an awkward laugh. Rin lightly shook his head, “It's fine. I'm just... Tired. Bye.” You rose a brow, he said bye a little too quickly just now. Just what is going on in his head?

Rin slowly began to walk away while you looked back down at the crimson box in your hands, lightly staring at it before it hit you.

“Wait. You never accepted any of their chocolates.” Rin paused, almost like he'd been caught. Your eyes widened, a blush immediately creeping up your cheeks when you finally realized.

“You bought me these?!” You yelled, a little too loudly. You covered your mouth and whispered a small apology to nobody in particular. Rin did not dare to turn around, instead he gave you a small wave, “I'll see you tomorrow.” He said, before continuing to walk—just a little bit faster this time.

You smiled widely and ran to his side, not letting him escape when he'd just done the sweetest thing anyone has ever did for you. “That is so sweet of you.” You lightly nudged his side. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.” Rin stayed quiet, too busy staring at the gate ahead of him, before he sighed when the silence that followed was too unbearable.

“... You're welcome.”

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜

☆ 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲 - ,, 𝘀𝗮𝗲

summary: growing up best friends with the itoshi brothers takes a turn for the worst when you end up falling for sae. once he leaves for university, you don't hear from him for a while, but it's been a few years and fate has other plans for you. warnings: gn!reader , cursing , minor angst , reader is a teenager with messy teenage feelings , absolute word vomit , kind of bad writing , not proof-read ! word count: 5.1k a/n: don't ask me what this is im obsessed with sae so. also pls look away from the cringe ass title its a lyric from a niki song guys- anyways i hope this is legible

you haven't seen sae in so long.

it's all you can think about as you loiter in front of the itoshi family home, pacing in front of the door with your hands shoved into the pockets of your hoodie. you're certain your heavy, anxious footsteps are going to leave dents in the wooden paneling of their front porch—it almost makes you feel guilty.

almost only because you really weren't planning on unearthing years of buried feelings on a random thursday afternoon. 

when you woke up this morning, muted spring sunlight greeting you with its soft touch, you had decided it was going to be a good day. spring break meant you were home for the next two weeks, with no responsibilities and a lot of friends to catch up with. 

honestly, you were planning on lounging around for most of the day, going out to meet a few people for dinner, then coming back home and binging some drama on netflix until you inevitably fell asleep. 

so when you went downstairs, greeted with the scent of sweet chocolatey brownies, you wondered what the special occasion was for your mom to be baking so early in the morning. 

you shouldn't have asked—if you could go back in time, you would take the chance and stop yourself from ever asking what she was up to. you should have known she would sic it onto you.

that's precisely why you're standing in front of the itoshi home, contemplating ringing the doorbell, a small pastel blue tin full of brownies held in one hand. the other held onto the card your mother wrote to mrs. itoshi.

she's always been a sweet woman, rather sentimental in her disposition, holding onto useless trinkets from when her sons were little kids still and littering the walls of their home with so many photos.

you were up there too, chubby cheeked and missing a few teeth because that's what childhood is like. 

you grew up with the itoshi brothers, spending every moment with them because they lived right across from you and when you're kids, the people within walking distance end up your best friends.

you didn't have much in common with them—they were aloof when things were good and stoic when things were bad (as stoic as children can be) and you loved to huff and puff, dramatizing every last thing.

you like to think you grew out of your old ways, but then again, here you are losing hair and probably graying because you're too nervous to hand over some brownies. 

perhaps before university, you wouldn't have had an issue with this. 

though you lacked similar interests, you remained close friends with both rin and sae. but you were closer with rin. you were the same age and you had the same home room—and he let you copy his history homework if you let him copy your chemistry homework so there was an incentive to remain close. 

he was also a good friend when he wasn’t rolling his eyes at you, faking indifference.

plus: looking at rin didn't kick your naive teenaged heart into overdrive. 

sae, on the other hand? you avoided like the plague. 

around your first year of middle school, you realized sae made you feel...strange. it wasn't an entirely foreign feeling because it was the same way you felt while watching zuko in avatar: the last airbender. that sickening tightness in your chest while your face grew warm, palms grew clammy, until you felt like you were running out of breath. 

maybe it had something to do with the night you went camping with the itoshis. you’ve never been the biggest fan of camping, but you went anyway because they’re your best friends. it’s only right. you started regretting your decision when night arrived and all you could think about were the countless horror stories about bears destroying campsites, or crazed hatchet wielding murderers killing innocent campers. 

so you laid in the tent you shared with rin and sae, squished between the both of them, fear gripping your heart tighter than vice and making your blood run cold.

“why are you still awake?” you startle at sae’s quiet but firm tone, trying to calm your nerves just enough to respond. “how’d you even know i was awake?”

“you’re breathing way too fast for someone who’s supposed to be sleeping.”

so you begrudgingly tell him all about how you’re terrified after making him pinky promise not to make fun of you and not to tell rin. he’s silent for a moment, before climbing out of the tent, beckoning you to follow him.

and you do, though you don’t really know why. he takes you to a small clearing in the woods you’re camping out in, and you’re scared shitless, fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his hoodie but he doesn’t seem to mind.

he peers over at you, the faintest smile on his face as it points up at the sky, “the stars are easier to see here.” so you look up too, and find that he’s right—that the sky is pierced with tiny dots of sparkling light, too many to count. it’s breathtaking and you can feel your heartbeat slow down, fear melting away to make room for something more serene. sae steps closer to you and you pretend not to notice, but you do and it feels different this time, even though he’s been shoulder to shoulder with you before.

he leads you back to the tent in one piece, you both fall asleep without saying a single word to each other. the next morning, you wake up and rin seems none the wiser to your irrational fear of an untimely demise in the woods.

sae kept his promise and it makes you smile. an unfamiliar feeling sprouts to life deep inside you.

you brushed it off because sae was in high school now, sae was different now. of course you'd feel strange around him—he was older and smarter and cooler. he probably knew things you have yet to even hear about; it's fine, you told yourself, you’d get to his age and you’ll stop feeling this way about him.

but then you were going into your first year of high school and this feeling never went away. in fact, it only grew over time, like a rubber band wrapped around your heart, twisting tighter and tighter every time you looked at sae. 

every shared glance, every softly muttered greeting—they built up, growing taller and taller until it all tumbled to the ground, crashing into you without warning.

you liked sae.

suddenly having a label for these strange feelings didn't make them any more manageable or any less daunting. this label—your crush on sae—only worsened the state you were in. 

whenever you'd see sae walking down a hallway—the first two buttons of his shirt undone (despite the fact that the dress code stated they must stay buttoned), afternoon sun draped over his face, letting his long lashes cast shadows against his cheeks—you'd turn a corner, running from his sight.

you started taking a longer route around the school when you left, tired from the day's trials and tribulations, but not tired enough to walk past the field and risk seeing sae in his jersey, sweat dripping down his temple, tracing the curvature of his face before disappearing past the sharp line of his jaw.

you stopped spending so much time with the itoshis, turning down invitations to go to amusement parks and arcades and other excursions because the thought of being close to sae like you had been during that camping trip made you feel like you were drowning.

rin noticed, of course he did. there’s no way he wasn’t going to notice his best friend suddenly avoiding his home, or throwing around dumb excuses to skip hanging out with him. at first, he was certain he had upset you somehow, so he spent a while wracking his brain and trying to remember the last fight he had with you.

eventually, he realized he wasn’t the problem, but his older brother was. 

the itoshi household was a fairly calm one. until rin cornered his older brother, fire in his eyes as he asked what the hell he did to upset you. 

that’s when he realized the problem wasn’t sae either (because he had no idea what rin was even talking about—sae hadn’t seen your face in weeks), it was you. whatever was going on with you was something you were conjuring up in that overdramatic mind of yours.

so he confronted you, after school near a stairwell after catching you taking the long way home. 

“what’s wrong with you?” he asks, deadpanned and you groan, not wanting to deal with this. it’s the tail end of spring and although the flowers are blooming and the grass is a bright green, the heat of a summer to come kisses your cheeks and leaves you unbearably warm.

“there’s nothing wrong with me, rin,” you counter, rolling your eyes. “now, let me go home, i have work to do–”

“you’re avoiding me.”

“i’m literally talking to you right now.”

he clicks his tongue in annoyance and crosses his arms over his chest, “okay, then you’re avoiding sae.”

you like to think you’re something of a convincing liar, and to some degree, you are. you can get away with the occasional, ‘i forgot my homework at home, can i bring it in tomorrow?’ and ‘i don’t have my wallet on me, can you pay?’ 

unfortunately for you, none of your lies ever work on rin because he knows all your stupid tells, and right now, you stiffen at the sheer mention of sae which only goads him on. “what happened with sae? he said he hasn’t seen you–”

“you asked him?” you almost shout, incredulous at the audacity of itoshi rin. “why would you ever do that?”

“you weren’t telling me.”

“oh my god–” you groan, covering your face with your hands. if sae didn’t already notice your blatant attempts at avoiding him, he was certainly going to notice them now, thanks to fucking itoshi rin. 

rin just steps closer to you, unbothered with your deep scowl and the rage swimming in your eyes. “are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

you tell him to walk with you because it’s a long story (it’s not really—you just want to get him away from the school where sae is, and you also want him near the convenience store so you can bribe him with food before coming clean). 

rin finds out about your massively debilitating crush on sae with a pack of plain chips in his hand, standing right in front of the farthest 7-11 from school.

he takes it somewhat well (meaning: he doesn’t try to beat you into the ground), but he makes it known that he doesn’t think his brother is deserving of your attention—not like that anyway. 

“yeah well– you think i woke up one day and chose to like sae?” you grumble, stealing a few of the bribery chips from him. “it just turned out that way, okay?” 

and then rin awards you with one of his billion dollar ideas, the ones that send you into cardiac arrest from sheer idiocy alone. 

“why don’t you just…tell him?”

you turn to look at him slowly, so slowly it's menacing. if looks could kill, he’d have died as soon as your eyes met his. “give me one good reason i shouldn’t punch you for that dumb fucking idea.”

he’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s riling you up, but he also thinks your dilemma is stupid. “just confess, if he doesn’t feel the same way, then you don’t have to waste your time drooling over him.”

rin walks you home with a bruised shoulder, the bribery chips in your hands after you stole the entire bag away from him for reparations. 

by the time sae’s graduating high school, you’re head over heels for him, barely able to contain the way your heart soars at the very thought of him. it’s embarrassing and it’s horrible because sae probably sees you as some extension of his little brother—meaning sae is never going to see you the same way you see him.

so when it’s summertime and he’s packing his things up for college, you wonder if you even want to go say goodbye. as his friend, you know you should. who knows when you’d see him next? you’ve known sae for almost your whole life—you should wish him well on this new chapter of his life.

but the selfish part of you, the part of you that wants to shield yourself away from the thought of sae ever leaving, keeps you rooted to the floor of your bedroom. seeing the packed suitcases and his near empty room will only solidify the fact that he’s leaving. 

he’s not going to be around for the next year, or the year after that, and it hurts in a way you didn’t expect it to. after that, you won't be around either, most likely, so then when will you see sae again?

you don’t want to miss out on seeing sae a final time, so you push yourself to go over and say hi, trying your best not to cry because that’s lame and you’re not lame like that. 

he seems shocked to see you there, in his presence, instead of jumping through hoops to get far away from him. but after the initial shock, sae seems almost relieved to see you standing there, waiting to bid him goodbye.

“you’re here.”

you nod softly, not meeting his eyes because you know that his emerald stare is only going to coax the tears waiting behind your lashes. “i wanted to wish you good luck…have fun…at college.”

he takes a step closer and you want to take one back, but you don’t. “i will. stay safe while i’m gone.”

it makes you laugh, like he’s been protecting you—as if. but you nod anyway just to appease him and you stare at him, taking in the way he’s styled his hair and the single hoop earring on his right ear and the thin silver chain around his neck. 

now that you’re here, so close to sae, all you can think about is how much you’ll miss him. something cracks within the cavity of your chest, narrow but deep like a fissure, and you can’t read the meaning behind his slight frown or the furrow in his brows. you can’t understand the softness in his eyes when he looks at you.

he loads up his things, everyone says goodbye and you dig your nails into your palm so that you won’t start sobbing in front of sae. everyone takes turns wishing him goodbye once more, just alone. you’re the last one to go, purposefully placing yourself last because you’re nervous about being alone with him. 

you walk over, fully prepared to repeat exactly what you had said earlier. you take one look at him, sweltering heat making his hair stick to his forehead as the setting sun makes him glow orange, and it's like the fissure cracks and breaks instantly. 

you’re pouring out your heart before you can stop yourself. 

“sae- i’m going to really miss you,” you whisper, arms wrapped around yourself as the words just keep tumbling out. “and i know you probably won’t miss me as much– or at least not in the same way, because i like you and i have liked you for so long.

“i’ve liked you since i was a cringe middle schooler and i avoided you for months once i realized because i didn’t want to look at you knowing you don’t feel the same.” you take a deep shuddering breath, it takes so much work to not cry. “and now you’re going away and i’m being so unfair because here i am telling you i’ll miss you when…you were right here.”

he’s rendered speechless. you run back into the house and sae doesn’t run after you or even say anything. he doesn’t even text you. you spend the rest of summer buried within your sheets, mouth dry and heart battered and bleeding so profusely, you have no idea how to even begin fixing it. 

it takes you one year, six months and 15 days to get over the hurt of sae’s silent rejection. you’re aware you put him in a difficult position, and you weren’t expecting him to return your feelings or anything, but you did want him to say something.

you felt like a bumbling idiot throwing up your feelings all over sae’s expensive shoes, cutting yourself open just so he could see how your heart really only beats for him, only for him to turn away. only for him to leave you in silence, with nothing but the deafening sounds of your own heartbreak.

he’s made you a bit bitter towards love—making you scoff during valentine’s day and making you wince during white day but it’s only a front to hide the fact that deep down, you’re still hurting. you might have cleaned up the blood and erased the stains, but the wounds still remain, refusing to scab over and disappear altogether. 

you told rin what you did a week after sae left. he’s shit at comforting people but he took you back to the 7-11 that’s super far from your school and bought you the same bribery chips and told you that sae really didn’t deserve you. 

you wish you could make yourself believe it but you’ve found that you’ll always hold a soft spot for sae, even if most of your memories of him are buried under the immense aching of missing him and loving him.

you wait until your final day of your final year of high school to delete sae’s number off your phone. maybe he might text, you think, maybe he might congratulate you on graduating. anything from him would soothe the soreness in your chest. 

he doesn’t text and you delete his number with the hopes of forgetting him.

you and rin go to different universities, but you keep in touch. it’s easy to do that with someone who actually wants to keep talking to you. you haven’t seen or heard from sae in a while—almost three years to be exact. 

thinking of him doesn’t send a pang of something painful piercing through your heart anymore. instead, he’s more like a dull ache that settles within your stomach, remnants of a time when the sound of his name stung and thoughts of him sliced and drew blood. 

it’s a bit pathetic that you’re still kind of in love with the same guy, someone you fell for in middle school when your taste in men is supposed to be god awful. it’s disappointing that you never went through major character development in uni (not enough to finally squash your feelings for sae). 

sae wasn’t home for winter break, so you don’t expect him around for spring break either. he probably isn’t home, so you shouldn’t make a big deal out of handing over these brownies and that card. it’s just a simple transaction.

you reason with yourself for a few seconds more, fingers crossed that mrs. itoshi won’t ask if you’re keeping in touch with sae because you can’t bear to tell her you haven’t spoken to him in three years. 

silently hoping rin opens the door, you go to knock when the stairs to the front porch creak and you spin around, careful with the tin in your hands. 

it’s sae—the itoshi sae, staring at you with his head tilted and something foreign in those emerald eyes. 

maybe if you look hard enough, you can see yourself reflected in the darkness of his pupils but you don’t want to look at him like that. not anymore, anyway.

you don’t know what to say, you ran out of things to say to him the moment you told him how you felt three years ago. there’s not much more to share, there’s not much more you want to share either. 

your heart still clenches when you remember how hard you worked to get over the hurt, to clean up the blood. they’re like phantom pains, making the muscles of your chest tighten. but they can’t exactly be phantom pains if the wounds are still alive and well.

sae shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping up onto the porch and walking closer to you. the smell of his cologne invades your senses and you fix your gaze onto the lid of your tin, not wanting to look at him.

“why were you just standing in front of our house?”

you sigh, hoping he didn’t catch you pacing. “i was going to knock just now. you startled me.”

he reaches over you to knock on the door and mrs. itoshi opens the door. you hope you can hand over the things and rush out of this awkward situation but she ushers you in, along with her son, and insists you stay for lunch. 

you have no idea how to say no to her, so you say yes and stand awkwardly in the living room while sae sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone. the atmosphere is tense—it’s painfully obvious that there are unresolved problems between you both. you don’t want to be the one to bring them up, it’s no longer your responsibility. 

you eye him carefully, studying his lidded gaze and the bored frown on his face. the angles of his face have remained basically the same, though you think he’s built more muscle over the years you haven’t seen him. you know sae’s still playing soccer, much like rin, and you know he’s pursuing a career in it. 

all this you learned from the news or your mom after she speaks with mrs. itoshi—sae is a soccer prodigy or something like that. you don’t really care about the logistics of the sport, you only care about him.

he looks up abruptly, catching your analyzing stare and it makes your breath hitch momentarily before you look away, turning your attention elsewhere. 

this goes on for a few moments more, you letting your gaze wander back to sae, letting yourself indulge in the sharp angles of his face and jaw until he catches you, and then you’re tearing away from him to pretend like you were never looking in the first place.

it’s sickening and you long for the familiarity you once had with him.

every once in a while, you find yourself wandering back to that night you went camping (the only time you’ve ever gone) and every part of you yearns to go back—to be able to stand in the middle of the woods in the dead of night, staring up at the stars with sae standing by your side. 

it always reminds you that you’re not fully over him, your love for sae pulling at your hair like an annoying kid. you wish you could swat him away.

you pull yourself from your reverie just in time to find him looking at you, his phone abandoned by his side. you fight the urge to focus on anything but him, squinting your eyes at his unrelenting stare. 

he doesn’t look away. you huff and cross your arms, but you won’t look away either. 

you don't last as long as you hoped. looking at sae hurts. 

he's 20 now, and you're 18 (almost 19 in a few months) and he's still giving you that same silence even when it's obvious he has something to say.  

simply being around him is digging up everything you worked hard to bury away, dredging up years of old feelings and memories and naive love and you wish he could see into your mind so he'd understand how much of him still lingers in the corners.

you clench your jaw, hardening your stare as you decide this staring contest is utterly pointless when sae sighs, resigned.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear but still so quiet, you wonder if you heard him right. 

"why-" you begin but he cuts you off, standing up and you follow suit. 

"i'm sorry for not saying anything to you that day," he clarifies, and his voice is somewhat raspy, slightly deeper and it makes your knees feel weak. 

"i'm sorry for never calling or texting and i'm-" he takes a breath, as if to consider his next words, "sorry."

sae isn't good with apologies. you figured that out the day he knocked you off your bike when you were nine, making you scrape your knee in the process. you wailed about it for hours and sae simply gave you a 'sorry that happened.' and that was that.

he bought you a strawberry flavored chapstick after that—a better peace offering.

you still think he's shit with apologies, but this one warms your heart a little.

"you don't have to apologize for that," you reply, laughing to ease the awkwardness. "you don't feel the same, and that's fine. i bombarded you the day you left—it wasn't fair to you."

you hope he doesn't dwell on the fact that you said 'don't feel the same' as opposed to 'didn't feel the same' because you do still like him (as pathetic as that may be).

but this is itoshi sae and he notices everything. at least, he notices everything about you.

when you first started avoiding him in the halls, he noticed, but he didn't say anything. when you started taking the long way to leave the school, he noticed, but he kept his mouth shut because he figured there was a good reason for it. 

when you stopped coming around as often, declining invitations to hang out, he noticed. sae didn't know what he did but he didn't like it and he missed you then, missed your face and your voice and the way you used to roll your eyes at his dry remarks. 

the day he was leaving for university, he was so surprised to find you in front of him, he almost didn't notice the nerves lighting up your eyes and making your hands shake.

then came your confession—a mess of words and feelings and so very genuine—it knocked the air out of his lungs. he didn't know what to say, couldn't come up with something good enough so he resorted to silence.

he started regretting that the moment you turned away from him. 

he didn't think he'd miss you like he did—didn't think he'd still hold onto whatever memories he had of you stored away in his mind. but now he's 20 and he's seated on the couch that you and him grew up watching TV on and he doesn't think there's anyone else in this world that could make him feel the way you do. 

sae has a lot of regrets about the way things went with you. mainly, regrets about how he handled it, about how he didn't text you or call you. you deserve better and he knows rin has probably hammered that into you but he hopes you haven't fully come around to believing it yet.

it's selfish of him, and he knows that, but he wants you more than he's ever wanted you. 

he’s been silent for so long, you start to wonder if this is the end of this conversation, but then he’s stepping forward, hand grasping your wrist. “do you still feel the same way?”

out of all questions, this was the last one you were expecting. his touch burns, smoldering against your skin and you really don’t know if you want to be honest with him—not when there’s so much uncertainty surrounding him. 

sae drags you closer, chest pressed flush against his own, emerald peering into your own wavering stare. for a moment he seems just like you: full of yearning and desire and the fact that his heavy gaze is settled on you makes something stir in the pit of your stomach. 

something twists around your heart, tighter and tighter, until you can’t help but be honest. “i do. i feel the same way.” admitting it feels like an immense weight lifted off your shoulders, even if he doesn’t feel the same.

sae doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t do anything but stare for a few seconds. 

“i always returned your feelings,” he replies, voice just a hitch above a whisper, only meant for you to hear. 

“then, why didn’t you tell me that?”

he shakes his head then, “wouldn’t have been fair to you. i was leaving and we’d be so far apart–”

“you didn’t even call me,” you remind him, frowning, suddenly wanting to twist out of his embrace. “not even during graduation.”

“i know, i’m sorry,” he says again, so soft with you like that time you went camping. you almost wish you were under the stars once more, instead of standing in his living room. “i made some fucked up decisions.

“but the way i feel about you has never changed.”

you let out a shuddering breath. sae brings your hand to his face, pressing a chaste kiss to your palm, staring at you through the fan of lashes. “i’ll take whatever you give, as long as you’ll have me—if you still want me, that is.’

you wrench your hand away from his and he falters, but you step forward and grab that thin silver chain he’s still wearing and you close the distance between you both, pressing your lips to his because it’s the only thing on your mind. 

you take him in like he’s oxygen, his hands firmly planted on your waist, sliding down to your hips; he takes your breath away. sae has this impossible need to have you closer, close enough so that it becomes impossible to tell where he ends and where you begin. he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, teeth nipping at your bottom lip but he turns soft immediately after as if to soothe the slight sting. 

you taste like strawberry—like that chapstick he bought you years ago. sae feels electric and warm and the feeling of him bursts like fireworks within your chest. sae feels like years and years of loving in silence, like shared moments hidden away from prying eyes, like staring up at the stars in the middle of the woods in the dead of night. 

you pull away and hide your face in the crook of his neck, feeling his chest vibrate as he laughs softly. sae places a hand against the small of your back.

“i really missed you,” he says, his breath warm against your ear. 

sae feels like reuniting with your other half—destined in the stars. “i missed you too.”

what even was this i just stopped studying for finals + decided i HAD to write for sae like....

Hearbreak Anniversary with Zayne

Summary: It was your anniversary with Zayne. One year of togetherness. But what if he does not show up when you expect him to? What if he was spending it with MC? Pairing: Non MC! Reader x Zayne Note: MC in this fic goes by the name Lina (my name... so if you are angry, you can be angry at me :3). This oneshot was based on this request. I will write this for the other LADS men too. Also I don't think any of these men would ever be the type to actually willlingly forget it. Especially Zayne. So I had to adapt the request a bit. Content Warning: injuries, panic, insecurities, self worth issues, Zayne POV

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version

Zayne’s apartment smelled like him—clean, crisp, and faintly of the eucalyptus-scented candles he kept on the shelves. You sat on the edge of his couch, smoothing the fabric of your dress down your thighs, nerves making your fingers tremble slightly. The dim light of the chandelier cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the carefully planned surprise you had for him —flowers, his favorite treats, elegant scarves, and jackets you had spent weeks picking out. The final touch was the flexible weekend getaway tickets, somewhere warm and far from the sterility of hospital walls. A place where he could finally rest.

You had gone all out for tonight. The garden-themed restaurant was supposed to be the perfect setting—a quiet, intimate place where vines curled around twinkling fairy lights, and the soft scent of fresh blooms would fill the air. And you had dressed accordingly with something elegant, something that made you feel beautiful for him. The deep navy-blue dress you wore clung to your form just right, the intricate lace details at the sleeves soft against your skin. You had taken your time getting ready, styling your hair to perfection, slipping on a pair of delicate earrings he once admired absentmindedly. A spritz of white jasmine perfume, the one he once said reminded him of spring mornings. You wanted to look like someone worthy of being by his side. You wanted to be beautiful for him, for the man who had somehow, impossibly, fallen for you.

Because, truth be told, there were times you weren’t sure you were.

you still didn’t understand how this happened—how Zayne, the prodigy, the man who could save lives with his hands and mind, had chosen you. He was brilliant, disciplined, and deeply compassionate. And you? You were just… you. Ordinary in comparison. He never made you feel small, never belittled you, but standing beside him you felt you were just lucky to be there. His world was one of brilliance, filled with extraordinary people—Lina, the fearless Deepspace Hunter; his late friend Caleb, a DAA pilot whose loss still lingered in hushed conversations; his esteemed mentors and fellow doctors who spoke in a language you could only ever grasp at the edges. Compared to them, compared to him, you felt so small.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, was supposed to be about the two of you.

You had fallen for him in the quietest of ways—through the gentle cadence of his voice, through the moments he noticed things others didn’t. How he’d pull a chair out for you before you could do it yourself, how he’d check the temperature of your tea so you wouldn’t burn your tongue, how he’d listen, really listen, to your ramblings even after a 48-hour shift. He had nestled himself into your heart without you even realizing it.

And tonight, he had insisted he wanted to be with you, even with the chaos of the hospital weighing on his shoulders.

The call came two hours before your reservation. You already knew what he was going to say the moment you saw his name flash on your screen.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Zayne’s voice was warm, familiar, but there was an edge of exhaustion to it. “I’m so sorry. I can’t make it tonight.”

Your heart sank, but you swallowed it down, forcing your voice to remain even. “It’s okay, Zayne. I know you’re busy.”

“It's been a long shift, and the surgeries…”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll cancel the reservation. Take some breaks and rest, okay? You sound tired…”

“I am fine, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “I swear.”

"It’s fine, Zayne." you whispered, even if it wasn’t. “We’ll just celebrate it another day. No big deal.” Even though it felt like one at the moment.

Still, you weren’t upset. Not really. You understood. You always understood.

You hung up and exhaled slowly, pressing your palms against your lap. It wasn’t his fault. He was working back-to-back shifts, saving lives, doing what he was meant to do. And yet, you couldn’t quite keep the disappointment from settling in your chest.

You exhaled slowly, stripping away the dress you had so eagerly put on just hours ago. You slip into into one of Zayne’s oversized sweaters instead, the one that still smelled like him, the sleeves swallowing your hands. You wear leggings underneath and slip on your shoes. You took your time packing the gifts back into the car, moving slowly, as if dragging out the moment would make it hurt less. Maybe when he was finally done, you could pick him up from the hospital. At least you’d get to see him and surprise him. This was what occupied your time for the next three to four hours.

Once everything was back in the car, you plopped yourself on his plush but ergonomic couch. You scrolled through your phone while waiting, mindlessly tapping through social media, until one post stopped you cold.

Lina’s story.

A picture of her sitting across from Zayne in a small restaurant outside Akso hospital, the caption lighthearted:

When you have to drag out your doctor because he won’t follow his own advice about resting. (-_-)

Zayne looked amused in the photo, tired but still composed, his lips slightly curved in a small, rare smile. He looked… content. His gaze focused on her as if she had just said something ridiculous.

Your fingers trembled as you stared at the screen.

It was stupid. It was so stupid to feel like this. Lina was his childhood best friend. She had never given you a reason to be insecure, and yet, the sting of it hit you like a slow, creeping ache. He had time to go out for a meal with her. He had time to smile like that, even after canceling on you. You knew you were being irrational, that he had only stepped out for a quick bite in his busy shift, yet you felt betrayed.

Tears pricked at your eyes before you could stop them. You wiped them away quickly, but they kept falling, silent at first, then turning into quiet, shuddering sobs. You felt pathetic. Childish. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. You knew he wasn’t. But it hurt anyway. Because you would have taken anything—just a few moments, even just a simple meal at that tiny restaurant, if it meant spending time with him today.

It hurt in a way that made your chest feel tight, made the lump in your throat impossible to swallow. The sting of it crept under your skin like a wound you hadn’t realized was open, raw and aching. The disappointment bled into something uglier, something heavier. Why, after everything, did it feel like you were always on the sidelines of his life? No, Zayne never made you feel that way. It was your own spiraling thoughts.

A loud sob choked its way out, your hands gripping the fabric of his sweater as if that would somehow ground you. You wanted to hate yourself for crying over something so petty. He was saving lives. He was exhausted. He didn’t mean to hurt you.

But it hurt.

You needed to go home. You needed to collect yourself before the ugly thoughts swallowed you whole. You stood up, tears streaming down your face, as the weight of it all seemed too much to bear. You didn’t want to sit here anymore. You didn’t want to wait. You needed to go home, to clear your head, to get away from the overwhelming sense of inadequacy.

You sniffled, grabbing your keys and heading out. The highway would be the fastest route home—less traffic, a straight shot. You rerouted, pressing your foot on the accelerator, trying to breathe through the tightness in your chest. You wiped at your tears quickly, trying to focus on the road.

The road stretched out before you, a wide expanse of concrete and asphalt that felt like it would swallow you whole. The tears wouldn’t stop, and you wiped them away, trying to steady your hands on the wheel, trying to focus on the road ahead. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that you understood, that you were rational about his work. The reality of it, the empty seat next to you, the disappointment of seeing Zayne happy in a photo with someone else, it all felt too much.

And then—

Headlights. Too close. Too fast.

A car jumped the signal, trying to merge into the highway.

You slammed the breaks, the scream of tires against pavement rang in your ears.

The impact was instant. A violent, sickening jolt that sent your body forward, the seatbelt snapping against your chest, the airbag exploding in front of you. The windshield cracked, splintering into a spiderweb of broken glass. Your vision blurred, the world spinning.

Pain.

Your chest burned, lungs straining to catch a breath. Your limbs felt heavy. You reached for the seatbelt, your fingers fumbling, but it was jammed.

Fuck.

Your head lulled forward, resting against the deflated airbag. Your head was heavy, your thoughts slipping away like sand through your fingers. The distant wail of sirens reached your ears, but they felt so far away.

Your vision swam, the edges darkening.

I hope the other person is alright.

The thought barely had time to settle before everything faded into black.

ZAYNE'S POV

The fluorescent lights of the hospital buzzed faintly, casting an artificial glow over the chaos of the emergency room. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the undercurrent of blood—familiar, almost routine, yet tonight it gnawed at Zayne's nerves in a way he couldn't quite shake. He hadn’t left since he stepped through those doors, yet somehow, the guilt weighing on him had nothing to do with the lives he saved today. It was you.

He was tired. God, was he tired. His body screamed for rest, his temples throbbed from the strain of back-to-back shifts, but the hospital was understaffed, and there was no room for exhaustion when lives were at stake. As a cardiologist, his expertise lay in the intricate mechanics of the human heart, but duty demanded flexibility—especially in the ER. Cardiologists weren’t meant to be dealing with blunt force trauma and lacerations, but tonight, none of that mattered. They needed doctors. He was a doctor. So, he worked.

Even through the fatigue, his mind kept drifting back to you. He could still hear your voice from the call earlier, soft and understanding despite the disappointment laced beneath it. You didn’t deserve this. You had every right to be upset, to be frustrated that he had broken his promise, yet you didn’t even complain. That hurt more than if you had yelled at him

God, he loved you. And he hated himself for testing that patience again and again.

His hand tightened around the pen he was holding. He had plans—plans to make it up to you. The necklace in his office drawer, nestled in a velvet box, had been meant for tonight. Something small, perhaps, compared to everything you did, but a token of his devotion nonetheless. He could still salvage this. Maybe he could call you later, ask if you were still awake—

His device beeped, pulling him back to the present.

MVA on the highway. ETA: 5 minutes.

Multi-vehicle accident. Paramedics on site, victims en route.

Zayne exhaled sharply, shifting into work mode. He stepped into the ER just as the first stretcher was wheeled in. The radio chatter from their comms filled the space.

"Female, mid-to-late twenties, restrained driver, T-bone collision from a vehicle that ran a red light. Airbag deployment, but impact trauma to the chest from seatbelt. BP slightly low, likely from pain response. Tachycardic at 112. GCS is 14. Possible wrist fracture, mild concussion. No signs of internal bleeding from the ultrasound, but needs further imaging to rule out any complications."

He nodded briskly, slipping into the detached, clinical efficiency that had been drilled into him for years. It was only as he stepped forward, pulling the curtain aside, that his breath caught in his throat.

His world stopped.

There, on the hospital bed, was you.

Lying on the hospital bed, your hair disheveled, your skin pale against the stark white sheets. His breath lodged in his throat, the world narrowing to a pinpoint focus on the rise and fall of your chest. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. There was dried blood at your temple, your lower lip swollen where you must have bitten down upon impact. The sight of the IV line in your arm, the faint bruises forming along your collarbone—he couldn’t breathe.

No. No. No. No. No.

"Dr. Zayne…" Yvonne’s voice cut in, sharp and urgent. A warning. He was frozen. This wasn't just a patient. This was you.

He blinked, his hands suddenly trembling as he reached for his gloves. Breathe. He had to focus. Had to push past the sheer, gut-wrenching fear threatening to paralyze him.

This is her. She was waiting for me. She—

"Dr. Zayne!!" Yvonne pressed, handing him the updated chart. "She needs you."

That snapped him out of it.

The moment his hands touched you, they were steady again. His voice was even as he examined you, the motions automatic, controlled. He checked your pupils, gently palpated your ribs to assess for fractures. He was a doctor. He was your doctor right now. He had to move. Focusing, he reached for his stethoscope, pressing it against your chest to listen for abnormalities. The rhythm of your heart was steady, but your breathing was just slightly labored—likely from the seatbelt trauma.

"You’re going to be fine." he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

You were stable.

"Her left shoulder—check for AC joint separation," he murmured, voice steadier than he felt. "Get a CT to rule out any internal injuries. And…" He swallowed. “Get me images from the crash site.” He needed to see how bad the collison was. He had to.

The hours blurred. He monitored your scans, adjusted your IV, checked your vitals more times than necessary. Each time his eyes drifted to you; his chest ached. He had seen the accident reports—your car, your windshield shattered, the crumpled hood. And the contents scattered across the scene…

You had planned everything.

For him.

And he wasn’t there.

Zayne clenched his jaw. Flowers were scattered, crushed against the upholstery. The pastries you must have picked out for him were ruined; their boxes torn open from the force of the crash. And gifts. There were so many gifts. He hadn’t even known you had planned all this.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

You had so much waiting for him. And where had he been? At a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, eating with Lina because she forced him to take a break. He had been smiling in that photo while you were—

God.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling shakily as he sat by your bedside. He should have been with you. If he had just—

The monitor beeped steadily, a quiet reminder that you were alive.

Now, he sat beside you, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, fingers curled into his palms to keep them from shaking.

"Wake up, sweetheart." he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just wake up."

And for once, Zayne—brilliant, composed, always in control—felt utterly powerless.

The beep of the heart monitor was steady, rhythmic, but Zayne found himself gripping the edge of his chair every time you stirred, waiting for that moment when your eyes would finally open. His body was stiff from staying in the same position for hours, but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to miss it.

Then, a small shift in your breathing. A twitch of your fingers.

Zayne leaned forward just as your lashes fluttered, your eyes cracking open, only to squeeze shut again at the harsh fluorescent lights. You groaned softly, shifting against the sheets. Instinctively, you tried to sit up.

"Hey—stay put," Zayne said immediately, pressing a hand against your shoulder to keep you down. His touch was gentle but firm, his fingers warm even against the hospital gown. "Don’t move too much yet."

Your body resisted for a moment, muscles tensing as if you wanted to argue, but the disorientation dulled your fight. Your gaze finally settled on him, hazy with the remnants of sleep and confusion.

Then you frowned.

“…You look tired,” you murmured, your voice soft, still groggy. “How long have you been here?”

Zayne’s heart clenched so tightly it hurt. Even now, even when you were the one lying in a hospital bed, barely recovered from an accident, your first thoughts were about him.

His throat felt tight, but he exhaled sharply, forcing himself to speak. “You should look at yourself first, sweetheart.”

Your gaze flickered down, taking in the IV in your arm, the bruises along your wrist, the faint soreness that no doubt ached across your body. Zayne exhaled sharply and reached out, his fingertips tracing the side of your face before cupping your cheek fully. His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, as if grounding himself with the warmth of you. His eyes were moist, though no tears fell.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low, raw in a way that stripped away every layer of his usual composure.

You parted your lips, breath hitching as if you were about to reassure him—to do what you always did, to let him off the hook, to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But he didn’t let you.

“No,” he cut in firmly, shaking his head. “Not this time. This is the one time you shouldn’t be so understanding.” His jaw clenched, something bitter twisting in his expression. “I should have been there. We should have been celebrating our relationship. End of discussion.”

Silence settled between you.

After a beat, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair before looking at you again. “Why didn’t you demand my time?” His voice was quieter now, tinged with regret. “You had every right to.”

You hesitated, glancing away. “…I didn’t want to bother you.” Your fingers twisted into the hospital blanket, grip tightening slightly. “You’re important, Zayne. You save lives. I didn’t want to pull you away from that.”

Something in him snapped.

He let out a sharp breath, then reached for your hand, gently prying your fingers from the blanket. His grip was warm, grounding.

“Shh… And you think you’re not?” he murmured, shaking his head. “Don’t ever say that again.” His gaze bore into yours, unwavering. “You are important to me.”

"You’re important to me," he repeated, voice steady but almost desperate. "Just like my work makes demands of me, you are more than entitled to make demands of me, too."

Your eyes searched his, uncertainty flickering beneath the lingering haze of exhaustion. But Zayne’s gaze didn’t waver.

"I know I should have been there," he said again, quieter this time. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before brushing a thumb over the edge of your jaw, tilting your face slightly. “When I saw you on this bed when I entered the ER… pale, unconscious… I haven’t felt fear like that before," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not in all my years of doing this. Not like that."

You didn’t say anything, but your hand came up slowly, resting over his.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling.

This—this was what he almost lost.

His jaw clenched, then loosened as he exhaled. “I don’t want to ever feel it again.”

Another pause.

Zayne inhaled deeply, steadying himself. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin, as if reassuring himself that you were still here. That you were warm. That he hadn’t lost you.

“I know I say I’m sorry a lot… and it probably has lost meaning to you.” he murmured; his voice rough with emotion. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if struggling to put his feelings into something more tangible. “I should have been there. And I will be. Every step of the way until you’re fully recovered and after....”

His eyes flickered downward, scanning you like the doctor he was, but this was different. This wasn’t just clinical analysis—this was personal. "You got lucky," he admitted, exhaling through his nose. "Blunt force trauma to the ribs, a mild concussion, and a broken wrist. Some lacerations on your arm and leg, but nothing deep enough to require surgical intervention. The worst was the head trauma, but the scans came back clear. No bleeding, no swelling. That’s the only reason I’m not having a complete breakdown right now…" His fingers ghosted over your arm, careful not to apply pressure. "Nothing life-threatening or with lasting consequences. But still… you shouldn’t have had to go through that alone." His jaw tensed. "Not when you have me."

You gave him a small, tired smile at that, and something inside him twisted.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to reach into his pocket, his fingers closing around the small velvet box. He’d gone to his office to clock off for the day to be beside you when he picked it up from his drawer. The very box he wanted to give you today. The one that was supposed to be given in a far more joyful setting. This was supposed to be today. A night spent celebrating the two of you—not this. Not hospital beds and IV drips and the hollow fear that had nearly swallowed him whole.

But none of that mattered now.

What mattered was that you were here. And this… this was still yours.

His throat felt thick as he flipped it open, revealing the necklace inside—a delicate silver chain holding a white jasmine pendant, smooth and polished, its petals carved with intricate detail. And behind it, barely visible, were his initials.

His fingers trembled just slightly as he took it out.

"I was supposed to give this to you today," he admitted, voice lower now, almost guilty. "Before all of this. Before I let my own priorities get in the way of what really mattered." He glanced up at you, and for the first time in a long time, he looked vulnerable. "I don’t want you to ever think that you come second. Because you don’t. You never have."

Gently, he reached around your neck, his touch featherlight as he fastened the clasp. The cool metal of the pendant settled just above your collarbone, resting against your skin. His fingertips lingered there, just briefly.

Then he let out a slow breath, tilting your chin up just slightly with his knuckles. His mind still reeled with everything that had happened, with everything he should have done differently.

"I love you," he said, and this time there was no hesitation, no wry smirk to mask his emotions, no half-hearted deflection. Just honesty, raw and unguarded. "Even when I do a crappy job at showing it." He didn’t need you to say it back—he just needed you to know.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Then, his lips quirked, just slightly, into something softer. "And since I’m apparently on mandatory bedside duty, I hope you’re ready to be completely spoiled. I’m talking fresh coffee, extra pillows, a ridiculous number of medical advices—"

A small, breathy laugh escaped you, and Zayne felt something in his chest loosen at the sound. Then, slowly, you lifted a hand, brushing your fingertips over the pendant before reaching up to cup his cheek.

Zayne leaned into your touch instinctively, exhaling softly. He smiled, finally, pressing his forehead lightly against yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "We’ll be just fine. I've got you sweetheart... I'll always be here for you."

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

-;, gloves ; itoshi rin > you can’t stand rin. he abhors you right back- at least, you're pretty sure he does, anyways.

## author's note: surprise! this was meant to be a drabble! shout out to mai for the awesome feedback i <3 u

there is no sound more grating than itoshi rin’s voice. it’s like nails on a chalkboard, a premonition of bad things to come.

his ego is insufferable. the way he looks down on everyone else is embarrassing and cruel. and he’s mean, with the way shuns anyone who tries to speak to him with his brutal words.

you, however, are lucky enough to be the top name on his hit list. he never holds back with you, his words his weapon and you his enemy. with others, he'd be content with ignoring them if they stayed out of his way. but with you? he's always hated your guts. you're not too sure why, but you're not complaining.

long before you realized who he was- (a lunatic, a loser, an egotist)- you were rather impartial to him. it was rin, first, who'd burned the barely-there bridge that lay between you. his sharp looks and uncalled-for comments had blistered your nerves and frayed your patience like it was fine thread.

he never passes on an opportunity to take a dig at you- your looks, your personality, your humor- whatever he can get, he takes. so yeah, itoshi rin hates you, and by proxy, the feeling is very much mutual.

so when he shows up in your clinic 5 minutes before closing, you are beyond annoyed.

well, it's not exactly your clinic- though, it might as well be. it's on the blue lock site, and run by an older woman who's never really there. on the rare occasions she actually showed up to work, she could usually be found in a deep slumber on one of the beds, snoozing peacefully as if there weren't injured athletes coming in every hour.

you basically ran the thing, even though you were only meant to be an apprentice. it was never a bother, though- the players of blue lock were generally not weird and not too annoying. actually, you had been having a pretty lovely day- some of the contestants you'd befriended had visited you and hung around for an hour or so, keeping you company as you tidied the small space.

it's safe to say your good mood was soured the instant a certain individual walked through the doors. the bell jingles and you snap upright from where you were sweeping debris from the floor, eyes narrowing as you saw who it was.

rin looked less than happy to be there. his arms were crossed over his chest, and his expression was flat and annoyed. his figure contrasted the blank, dark sky. past him, you could see snowdrifts lining the floor outside the clinic. you'd forgotten how cold it had been recently. if rin felt the bitter chill, he didn't show it.

he's wearing his practice attire with a navy crewneck thrown over top, and a pair of thin gloves. and he doesn't seem the slightest bit cold. you wonder if he's used to the snow- was it common where he was from?

"what're you here for?" you sound unfriendly and you don't think you'd have it any other way. his nostrils flare and he shuts the door behind him.

(as he moved, you notice a slight, strange shifting in his steps- a limp.)

"it’s not by choice, trust me,” he mutters. unceremoniously, he plops onto one of the open beds and kicks up his feet. his shoes are still on. you think he does this just to spite you.

you check the time. 5 minutes until 9 pm, until you’d finally be free to take the bus back to your apartment. you sigh and make a mental note to look up when the next bus would come.

“your leg?”

“yeah.”

you’re a bit surprised he hasn’t had anything bitter to say yet, as you examine his injury- a dark bruise forming above an undeniably sprained ankle. your fingers flutter over the darkened skin- an expanse that surpasses the main injury, spreading past his knee to his outer thigh.

you put on a poker face to hide your grimace- this must’ve hurt. and you notice that rin, too, stills under your touch. his skin burns hot and you’re not even touching him.

“do you.. have a fever?”

rin scoffs and jerks his head away so he’s not looking at you. “are you stupid? you’re the medical professional here.”

his words drip with venom and your brow furrows. you reach across him to place the back of your palm against his warm face. “you’re burning up.”

he swats your hand away with a scowl. you don’t miss the slight pink tinge to his cheeks, and your eyes widen in surprise. a smile tugs at your lips.

“looks like a nasty sprain.” you’re already back behind your desk, leaving rin alone. you busy yourself with continuing to tidy up and the force of his gaze burns into you like fire.

“okay? what do you want me to do with that information, you piece of shit pediatrician?”

your head pops out from behind the desk. “i’m not a pediatrician.”

“you seem like the kind of person who can only get along with children and not people your own age.”

a huff of air escapes you. “i get along fine with people who aren't... y'know."

he swings his legs off the bed and you give him a look. "you've gotta rest. keep that leg elevated, and put ice or pressure on it. that might hurt, though, with the bruising."

your words brought rin back to the memory of your hands ghosting his skin and he loses the steel tone to his voice. "am i free to go?"

you shrug. you would like to be meaner but you're too tired at the moment. "sure. just come back in like, a week, so i can check on you."

"you're a horrible doctor."

"i'm not a doctor."

"then you're just horrible."

something tells you that rin is too tired to argue, as well, because he's all bark and no bite. his attempts make you laugh and you think you're either going crazy or can see a ghost of a smile creasing his face. you blink and it's gone- but he's still there.

"are you gonna go?"

"i will," he starts defensively, "just waiting for you."

he blinks like his words surprised even himself. you tilt your head. "how very polite."

"of course. wouldn't want anyone to catch a glimpse of your face and then wither away and die."

"oh. nevermind."

he stands up and tries to hide how he winces when his injured leg hits the floor. you watch him slide on his gloves warily. "you done cleaning or what?"

"i'm done."

"come on, then."

you're not sure what changed. maybe the snow that had been falling earlier that day had gotten inhaled and stuck in between his neurons. he hadn't stopped staring at you since he'd entered the clinic, either. he's never been so normal around you. you glance at him as he opens the door for you and there's a heaviness under his eyes- he's tired.

oh. that explains it. itoshi rin does hate you- he's just too exhausted to be bitchy about it. something in you wilts, but you hate him too so you pay it no mind.

the both of you walk in silence until you're about halfway through the property, your negativity brewing like tea in a kettle. it's close to indescribable, how you feel. you want to talk to rin. but he wouldn't want to talk to you. and you shouldn't, you really shouldn't want to like this annoying, insufferable, arrogant piece of human garbage.

"where's your apartment?" he asks.

(your kettle boils over.)

"not far. 10 minutes out."

he nods. you expect the walk to continue in silence until he speaks again. (you hate to admit that you are so, so happy it doesn't.)

"i didn't mean to make you miss your bus."

you snort a laugh and he glances over at you. "is that an apology?"

and suddenly, he can't meet your eyes. oh. it was. you shift your gaze and he suddenly looks very small and uncomfortable, walking next to you. "i'd rather you see me than just go home for that. it's my job. i don't mind."

"i thought you said you weren't a doctor."

"i'm definitely not."

an air of tension shattered with that brief conversation. the ice in the air had melted, and you weren't too sure what to make of it. you pretended to not see the way rin's eyes never left your figure as he continued walking in silence beside you.

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

the bus station is quiet and empty. the whisper of the wind forces a shiver out of you as the icy air licks your skin. rin's gaze flits over you the way it has so many times that day, as you take a seat on the bench.

checking the time on your phone, you see that it's a good 10 minutes until the bus' arrival. you bite the inside of your cheek. "thank you for walking me."

"mhm."

rin remains standing, arms crossed.

"especially with your fucked up leg."

"it's not fucked up."

at this, you laugh again. he half-glares at you but there's something softer lingering in his expression- something you don't recognize. "i'm a doctor. you can't lie to me about these things."

"so now you're a doctor?"

"i'm more of one than you."

his brow furrows and he sits on your left. "that doesn't make any sense. of course you are."

"my point exactly."

he sighs but you think he might be fighting a smile. and you're hit with a strange feeling because there's no way that this is the same boy that you've held a grudge against since the day you met him.

he's easy to talk to, even if he doesn't have the most creative replies. he'd caring, even if he doesn't outright show it. you wonder what else you could learn about the enigma that is itoshi rin tonight.

and then you feel even stranger, because he hates you. there's no way around it. he glares at you at any given chance, he calls you demeaning things, he hasn't said a kind word to you, he's never even spared you a glance until tonight.

you wonder what changed, as you look at him. he turns his gaze to you and electricity sparks as your eyes meet. he opens his mouth. he closes it. and then he speaks.

"are you cold?"

you blink in surprise, because you were cold, to the bone, shivering like a leaf in the wind. you're fully dressed and wearing the warmest sweater you could find, but your hands are still reddened with frost. you're kind of impressed by how rin seems unaffected.

"a little," you lie. he sighs and you watch in silence as he peels off his right glove and hands it to you.

"here."

you blink down at the worn, black glove before sliding it onto your right hand. "thanks."

and your heart stutters, and then stops, because he reaches down without looking and holds your bare hand with his. his skin is warm to the touch and you swear you can hear his heartbeat lurch in his wrist. you look at him and he keeps staring straight ahead.

he runs hot, you realize, which is probably why he was able to bear the temperatures outside. did he even need gloves? why was he wearing this?

and then, it hits you: did he plan this?

you hate itoshi rin, but you let him hold your hand as you walk through the snow-covered paths. you hate itoshi rin, but you're holding hands and wearing his glove, alone together as you wait for your bus.

you hate itoshi rin and he hates you, but he shifts closer to you and you feel the fight leaving your body.

you bite your lip before you speak, hesitantly addressing the situation: "you're holding my hand."

as soon as the words leave your mouth you want to hit yourself. rin raises an eyebrow. "yeah."

"why?"

you see how rin's face flushes pink in the night and how his ears are practically emitting smoke. he doesn't reply, but you feel his grip loosening in yours- you tighten your hold. he doesn't pull away.

"i thought you hated me."

at this, rin blanches. "what?"

you shrug. "yeah."

he blinks at you, and then he looks away. "no."

"you don't hate me?"

"no."

you purse your lips. "you suck at talking to people."

he glares at you. "i don't hate you."

the eye contact makes you shiver. "then why are you... like that?"

"like what?"

"you're... like, mean."

at this, your companion looks away. embarrassment colours his features and you're upset because he looks cute. "i don't mean to be."

"oh?"

it's silent for a beat until he continues. "you're just.. i dunno."

a sly smile crosses your face as you try to ease the tension. "what, don't tell me i make you nervous, rin!"

but he doesn't reply, opting to stare straight into the distance. oh.

oh.

"you don't hate me," you say slowly, like you're contemplating it, before grinning. "wonderful. i was getting sick of disliking you back."

he's still holding your hand, and you give it a squeeze. rin's eyes widen and you could almost laugh at how out of character all this was.

"cool."

"yep. awesome."

a bright light appears, and your bus is here. the both of you stand, neither willing to disconnect your hands. you eventually pull out of his grasp, and he looks a bit like a lost dog.

with a short laugh, you plant your hands on his jaw and place a short, sweet kiss on the apple of his cheek, leaving him redder than he was to begin with.

he opens his mouth for a few seconds before finally finding his words as you step towards the open bus doors. "text me when you're home?"

"yeah. yeah, i will. goodnight, rin."

"goodnight", he says back, but you're already gone. the bus drives away and he is left reeling, head spinning, heart roaring, absolutely, positively infatuated.

it's not until the cold night winds strike his bare hand does rin realize- you still have his glove.