a/n: this is so so, so heavily unedited but i wanted to get the next chapter out for you guys…. even if it’s just a bit of fluffy filler. but whatever right! but yes, i think there will be a bit of a delay on the next chapter too just cuz of how life is lol but i hope you guys enjoy this!!
Three days had passed since your fateful meeting with Rintaro, and in those three days you hadn’t seen him once. You had only worked once as well, and it was a morning shift, wondering if that was why you never saw him. When you saw him last, you cursed yourself as you locked your apartment door, realizing you’d never given him your phone number, decreasing the odds that you’d ever see him again.
Yet, when you arrived for your first night shift in three days, Alex was there waiting for you, ready with interesting news.
“I think you have a stalker,” they said, with a bit of a dry laugh, trying not to freak you out. Raising your head to look at your coworker, you let them continue. “Some guy keeps coming in asking for you, I was kinda nervous it was Osamu related so I tried not to give that many details.”
“What did he look like?” You inquired, heart starting to skip a beat. If it wasn’t Rintaro, then you were in a lot of trouble.
Alex tapped their chin, recalling the details: “tall, taller than your ex. Light brown hair, it was styled a little oddly, very flowy you could say.” That must’ve been him. It was reassuring to know that he did want to see you again. Alex continued, “he had these piercing eyes y’know I don’t know how to describe them. He’s been coming every night and for what? Like the last three days, and every time I look at those eyes I get chills.”
You were practically too stunned to speak as Alex raised their eyebrow. “Should I, like, file a police report or something? Do you know this guy?”
“Yeah, I do.” You felt yourself getting stomach butterflies. “Well, not well at least– I only briefly met him but he’s a really good guy.”
“If you say so,” Alex chuckled lightly, “but maybe give him your phone number next time you see him, y’know so the two of you communicate normally.” It was almost as if they could read your mind, knowing that you were regretting not having done so earlier.
About half an hour passed and still no customers came in. Sometimes, on weekdays it was like this: a ghost town. Tapping your fingers against the counter top, you thought you were going to die of boredom with Alex reciprocating your feelings.
Listening to them groan about waiting to just close up early, you were about to agree when the bell chimed and someone walked in.
Following his similar patterns from the night before, your friend Rintaro standing there wearing a black overcoat, and an attire you could only sum up to Wall Street-esc while his hair was still as wild as the first night you met him.
The moment he looked up at you, you met his eyes and even though Alex had made it clear there was something off with his eyes, you couldn’t understand what they were talking about. His gaze was kind, and his lips slowly but surely tugged into a smile upon seeing you.
“Looks like Mr. Stalker is here,” Alex teasingly whispered into your ear. You nudged them playfully, leaning against the counter, widening your grin.
“Hey,” you breathed out.
“Hello.” Rintaro cleared his throat, “I’m glad to see you’re in today, I was looking for you since the last time we met.”
“Me too, I didn’t know when I’d see you again honestly,” you laughed, regretting the way you phrased it, not wanting to sound rude. “But I mean it’s okay, you’re here now.”
“I apologize, I didn’t mean to make you stressed.” But you quickly interrupted him, reminding him that it was alright.
“Can I get you anything? Maybe coffee or tea?” But Rintaro shook his head, insisting that he didn’t drink anything of the sort.
“I’ll have something sweet, though, whatever you recommend,” he said haphazardly looking at the display case of desserts. You nodded, mentioning you had just the thing.
Watching as Rintaro found a seat, running one pale hand over the other. He mindlessly stared out the window, waiting for you to bring him something. He hoped that you wouldn’t notice how nervous he felt.
The sound of a plate sliding against the table echoed through the empty cafe, catching the man’s attention as he looked at your beaming face. In front of him was a small slice of apple pie, the cinnamon smell filling the air between you.
“On the house,” you said smiling, eyes slowly trailing over to the empty chair in front of him.
“You can sit if you want,” Rintaro offered and you felt embarrassed that he caught you red handed. You explained that your shift was almost over, looking back to see Alex’s sign of approval as you made yourself comfortable.
“I was thinking about how stupid I was not asking you for your number,” you bring up, not wanting to directly ask for it, still feeling a little shy.
Shaking his head, Rintaro informed you, “it wouldn’t have been of any use, I don’t have a phone.” Taking a bit of the pie he hummed, not saying anything to follow up his previous statement. “This is really good, it’s been a while since I ate anything…. this sweet, of course.”
“Wait, what do you mean you don’t have a cellphone? Who our age doesn’t?” That question caught Rintaro by surprise, raising an eyebrow as he tried not to act suspicious, taking yet another fork-full of pie into his mouth.
He simply shrugged, trying to change the subject, “is your shift almost over?”
You looked at your watch about to say no, when Alex’s voice interjected. “She’s gonna leave early, I can manage the place on my own.” They winked at you, signaling that you should go with him.
“I’ve heard good things about a bar nearby, would you like to come with me? Maybe we can become better acquainted?”
“Sounds good.”
The bar was dimly lit and filled with a sad crowd, which was mostly middle aged men desperately not wanting to go home to their wives. Because of that there was a gloomy feeling but Rintaro surely made up for it, with a slight smile.
As the two of you ordered, asking all sorts of personal questions and if you knew any better, you would’ve thought it was a date. Sipping on the drink, you followed his inquiries with your own, asking Rintaro about his childhood. Although, his answers were always so cryptic.
“I haven’t really lived in one place long,” he explained.
“So you were a military kid, huh?” But Rintaro shook his head but as you looked at him in confusion he changed the motion into a nod.
“Something like that,” he said, changing his answer.
Drink after drink, you hadn’t realized how much you had until you looked at the clock and three hours had passed. Your legs felt wobbly, like you were about to fall over at any given moment, leaning your head against Rintaro. You were drunk, the first time in a while considering Osamu hated it when you went out to go clubbing with your friends.
“You should probably get home,” Rintaro pointed out as if it wasn’t obvious. He looked down at your pouting lips and droopy eyes, he had to take you home, he knew that but he couldn’t stop looking at you. Every time he blinked he could see your past life, in a similar position, his heart feeling a foreign swelling.
He paid for all your drinks without a second thought, putting his sturdy arm around your waist, letting you lean your weight onto him. He grunted, trying to get you to follow his steps but he realized that trying to get the attention of a drunk person was easier said than done. Yet, he knew your apartment was close enough that he would carry you if he needed to.
“This way,” he eased you gently and before he knew it, the two of you were outside your apartment building. Suna had to coax you to get your keys out and to punch in the apartment code which after a scary amount of failed attempts, you were finally let in.
“Tonight was so much fun,” your words were slurred as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, smelling the expensive cologne he wore.
“I enjoyed it too, maybe we should do something similar but more formally, like as a date?” The last part of his statement was more of a whisper, scared that you were uncomfortable with getting into a relationship after just getting out of one. He also was praying that by tomorrow morning your memories of the night would be hazy and hard to remember.
“Yes, I want that,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes harshly, “I wanna go to bed,” you groaned. Rintaro nodded, promising that the two of you would be there as soon as the elevator rang, bringing the two of you to your destination.
“I just wanna sleep!” You exclaimed, trying to rip off your shirt. Your friends had always told you that you were a bit of a messy drunk but you never wanted to believe them. Nevertheless, you struggled to strip out of your clothes, not even bothering to acknowledge the fact that Rintaro was still inside your apartment.
Standing in the kitchen, you felt a hand on your back, reminding you that he was there. He suggested going into your bedroom and you hazily nodded, stumbling forward.
“May I help you with that?” Rintaro asked and you were in such a struggle, there was nothing else for you to do other than nod and accept his aid. He removed your shirt, leaving you in just a bra as you covered up.
“Okay now turn around.” You could feel the heat rising to your face, watching as he complied. You took out your pajama shirt, sliding off your bra before putting it on. “Okay you can look now.”
By then, you were wiggling out of your work pants, sitting down on the bed. You shivered as the cold air nipped your skin.
“You should get some rest,” he sat down next to you, seeing how cold you were, “perhaps underneath the bedding?”
“You talk so politely, y’know?” You drunkenly snickered, poking his thigh, “but I like it, I feel like an old timey princess.” Rintaro laughed softly, pulling back the duvet as you rolled yourself underneath the sheets.
“Well you deserve to be treated as such, no?” You only hummed with a content smile as just as Rintaro thought his work was done, he went to stand up, feeling you reach for his arm.
“No, don’t go yet, please stay.”
Rintaro looked at you, not knowing what to say, he saw the way your eyes became glossy and he couldn’t say no. This was his chance to be the shoulder you cried on, to bring you comfort that he couldn’t in your past life. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring until he heard your quiet whimper, taking his cold hand into your own.
“Of course,” he said in a soft tone, his voice hushed. Laying down next to you, he tried to take it slow so as to not shake you too much as his weight made the bed dipped.
“I just don’t wanna be alone tonight, y’know?” The man wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to explain yourself, he wouldn’t mind staying until you fell asleep but before he could interject, you finished your thought. “I’ve just been having nightmares all week,” you frowned, “I just wanted to feel safe.”
Few times in his life did Rintaro get the feeling he did then: you felt safe around him? Yet he didn’t ponder on it long, reeling himself back into the other thing you mentioned.
“Nightmares, what sort of nightmares?” His eyebrows furrowed.
“Mmm, I don’t know, there’s a big fire, and you’re there too.” Rintaro could hardly make out your words as you drifted into sleep. He knew it was memories of a past life, and he cursed himself that only the painful ones returned and plagued your sleep. He silently wished you’d see all the better ones.
He didn’t have a chance to answer, seeing as you had quickly fallen into slumber. He contemplated leaving, he needed to get back to his own place before the sun rose, surely you would come to understand.
As he stood up, he pressed a kiss against your forehead, seeing how innocent you lay there, unknowing of the life you had been born into. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered, but it was more like a prayer. He would give you the world if you wanted, even more, he would fight against the nature of his being and lasso the sun if you asked.
pairing:Suna Rintarou x gn!reader genre: fluff ; comfort warnings: none betas:unbeta’d a/n: this is a repost wc:1k
Even with clear directions from your best friend, he still has some difficulties with finding you. Most probably because it’s dark already, and you’re somewhere in the middle of a park. It’s not far from your apartment, but Suna still thinks he might have beaten his own record in getting there.
His steps lead him towards the swings you two loved spending your time at during high school years, but you’re not there. Not on the swings, not on the slide, not even on one of the benches inside the fenced playground. Luckily it’s silent, the rather chilly weather effectively discourages people from leaving their warm four walls.
Luckily it’s silent, because he can hear the lively chatter of your friends and walks where he’s sure the source is. Suna finds the group a few steps away from the main alley, under a huge tree, and greets them before coming closer to make himself known.
“Thanks for the call,” he nods with hands buried in his pockets. “And for staying with them. I’ll take it from here.”
“You sure you don’t need help?”
The man glances at you curled up on a cold grass and then quickly looks around the friends surrounding you dressed in clothes that might have been appropriate for the afternoon, but much less for an evening like this.
“Yeah, I’m good. Get home before you catch a cold.”
There’s laughter in response right before the good-nights and good-lucks, and let-us-know-if-you-need-anythings, but Suna barely pays any attention to it. He focuses on you, eyes scanning for any sign of discomfort even though he knows it’s the only thing you feel at the moment.
He crouches down and brushes your hair away from your face.
“Hi baby, it’s me. Let me take you home, yeah?”
His voice is quiet and gentle, but still enough to make you aware of his presence; your eyes move towards him and you blink slowly—action he takes as an agreement.
One arm slides under your knees, another behind your back and under your arm, and then you’re being lifted from the cold ground. Your head instinctively leans on Suna’s shoulder; he’s so warm and you’re so tired, and it feels as if you could fall asleep right there and then.
Your boyfriend carries you back to your shared apartment, and suddenly you’re overflowed with guilt. He’s too good for you. Too kind, too loving, too supporting. It was supposed to be a fun night, both for you and him even if separately, but here you are, defeated by the feeling of impending doom. And here he is, dragged out of the comfort and into the dark, carrying your weight like it’s nothing.
Absorbed in your thoughts, you don’t notice when you reach the familiar door until the man asks if you can stand on your own for a second. I can try, you think so you nod, and your feet indeed touch the floor but a strong arm still supports and embraces you tight.
The lock clicks and the door opens; Suna gently nudges you inside and into the bathroom, where he sits you on a tiny stool always kept by the bathtub. The fixture is filled with warm water while the man removes your clothes and make-up, and helps you get inside.
He lets you soak for a moment and your thoughts untangle, before grabbing your favourite shampoo. His fingertips massage your scalp in slow linear motions, sending tingles to your still numb limbs. With each move you feel the darkness dissipate a little, making it easier to breathe in the steamy air.
The touch disappears for a second and comes again on the skin on your face—tiny circles blooming with foam—removing the leftovers of the outing. It tickles like soft feathers and it’s not difficult to imagine this is what it is, even if for now they’re only in black and white.
You can’t tell if it’s been a minute or an hour, or even a whole eternity, before the hands move to the rest of your body. They’re rubbing at your muscles and joints, easing the tension with each squeeze.
Suna sees the expression on your face change—from the one of a painful indifference into the relaxed softness, and he wouldn’t make you move if not for a risk of you dozing off in the tub. He rinses the soap from your skin and hair, and wraps you in a fluffy towel on your way out.
Again, you’re seated on the stool, only this time with Suna behind you. As gently as he can, he brushes your hair, watching your reflection in the mirror closely for any sign of pain. But even if you felt any, you wouldn’t dare to show it with how tenderly he’s taking care of you.
However, there’s so much love in his gestures, in his touches, in his irises, so much more than you think you deserve, that the tears pool under your lids. They flow down your cheeks but Suna doesn’t say anything—he knows not to say anything—and lifts you silently to move you to the bedroom, where he dresses you in your favourite pyjamas.
Suna Rintarou is not a man of words; he doesn’t know how to describe the feelings swarming in his heart, doesn’t know how to name them. But he doesn’t need to, because his actions speak louder than any words ever could; they tell you everything you need to know and more.
So, wrapped tightly in the arms of the man that you love and who loves you, breathing in the scent that means safety and peace, you hide your face in the crook of his neck. And your hands shyly embracing him back tell him everything he needs to know.
pairing:Suna Rintarou x gn!reader genre:fluff warnings: none betas:@lemonadencran thank you so much a/n: Fic is part of the Anilysium Confessions collab! You can find the masterlist here wc:1k
Movies are unrealistic, Suna Rintarou thinks; it has nothing to do with the movie currently being displayed on the screen though, even if there are superpowers involved (no matter how much he wishes to have those). As a grown man he knows they are a work of fiction and doesn’t question it, so no, it’s not about the superheroes.
It’s not about the horrors either—Suna doesn’t believe in monsters (the worst kind of monsters are people anyway), not in zombies, not in ghosts, not really in oni or youkai. The world is dark and evil as is, it doesn’t need anything supernatural to make it scary for many.
Actually, it doesn’t concern anything super-something, no, because those are obviously against the laws of nature, or physics, or whatever.
The biggest surprise (or maybe disappointment), he thinks, is the depiction of love. He’s been fed with images of grand feelings and even greater gestures—of departures and rushing to the airport, of dancing and kissing in the rain, of speeches and confessions at proms—but there’s nothing of the sort.
Sure, he has dated before, but none of his relationships lasted for long; they had always left saying he was too detached, heartless even. And back then he thought it was true—after all his only response was a shrug and a quiet “‘kay”—he was never heartbroken, never fell into despair, never felt the pang in his chest. Maybe I’m just incapable of loving, he thought.
But now, being 25 and having met so many different kinds of people, Suna realises it isn’t true. Because here he is sitting on your couch, with your feet in his lap, and he glances at you crying for the hundredth time at the aftermath of Thanos’ snap. He thinks you’re soft and kind—it’s not frustrating, despite the many times he’s teased you about being a cry-baby with a flick on your forehead.
Still looking at you, he wonders when exactly he started having feelings deeper than just friendship, but he doesn’t know. There’s never been a moment of a great enlightenment, of a realisation striking him like a lightning bolt. Which is why it took him so long; he can’t help but think of himself as a frog being boiled—on a gradually increased flame—which doesn’t notice the situation it’s in until it’s too late.
Even after all these years you’ve known each other, it’s still fun to be around you. It’s incredibly easy to agitate you but you always bark back. Your sense of humour is just as wicked as his, and you both love the disgusted faces of people around while you’re hiccuping from laughter. You never push him, yet he always ends up spilling his secrets and thoughts, and worries, and you always listen with just a hum of acknowledgement, only to point out a detail he’s been missing.
That’s why—it being a sole reason as he’s always claimed—you’ve been his priority. He’s always asked you first to accompany him to some event bringing the disapproval of his then-partners, cancelled who knows how many dates because you needed help (even if you didn’t ask him to), and insisted on your participation in “high school boys reunion nights.” Over the years it’s been happening more and more frequently, until it became as natural as breathing.
Suna has never felt his heart ache—not even when it comes to you—even though he has missed you. But you were always just a phone call away in these cases, which he has made use of, despite god knowing how much he hates doing that.
Once, he recalls, you named him a cat—to which he proudly responded with “a fox! Not a cat!” but he supposes you were right. He’s always needed a great deal of alone time to recharge, coming back when he craved human interaction—just like a cat—and you—like a cat person—don’t seem to mind. Paradoxically, this is what kept him craving it more; your welcoming smile shone brighter than the sun itself, and filled him with indescribable warmth.
His eyes drop to his hands resting on your calves; the conjunction of skin radiates so much heat that Suna feels it in his chest and on his cheeks. He likes it—the softness under his fingers—and how it blooms with goosebumps following their movement. It’s really tempting to keep drawing patterns that would go up to your thighs and—if he’s lucky—maybe even higher.
What wouldn’t he give to be the one allowed to caress you like this, to leave trails of those tiny bumps and then kiss it “better”. He wonders if your skin would leave the same taste on his tongue as your name—sweet and refreshing—though he’s quite sure it would be addictive. The olive eyes move up, following a mental path of his mouth, and stop at your lips. They’re so compelling, and he can barely stop himself from kissing them like a madman.
“Rin?”
Your voice brings him back to the here and now, stripped of any what-ifs, and your eyes are exactly on his. Suna hums.
“You’re staring at me.”
“Am I?” Play it cool, play it cool.
“Yeah, you are. What are you thinking about?”
Hecannot play it cool. Not when you look so amused and concerned, and so relaxed in his presence. Not when you’re splayed out on your couch in your dimly lit living room, with his hands on your calves. Not when you feel so warm and soft, and almost expectant.
He cannot play it cool, and he cannot bear your gaze. Suna lets his body fall behind yours—his face hidden in your hair and arm thrown over your waist. You tense.
“I think I love you.”
Your body relaxes with a long exhale, and then you laugh,
“Took you long enough, dumbass.”
Suna should feel insulted, maybe surprised that you’ve known, maybe disappointed that you’ve never acted on it. But he can’t, because you turn to face him and kiss him softly and tenderly, as if you’ve been waiting years to do this and you’re scared to shatter this moment. He kisses you back, just as softly and tenderly.
And no, your lips don’t leave the same taste as your name.
pairing:Suna Rintarou x gn!reader genre: fluff ; comfort warnings: none betas:unbeta’d a/n: this is a repost wc:1k
Even with clear directions from your best friend, he still has some difficulties with finding you. Most probably because it’s dark already, and you’re somewhere in the middle of a park. It’s not far from your apartment, but Suna still thinks he might have beaten his own record in getting there.
His steps lead him towards the swings you two loved spending your time at during high school years, but you’re not there. Not on the swings, not on the slide, not even on one of the benches inside the fenced playground. Luckily it’s silent, the rather chilly weather effectively discourages people from leaving their warm four walls.
Luckily it’s silent, because he can hear the lively chatter of your friends and walks where he’s sure the source is. Suna finds the group a few steps away from the main alley, under a huge tree, and greets them before coming closer to make himself known.
“Thanks for the call,” he nods with hands buried in his pockets. “And for staying with them. I’ll take it from here.”
pairing:Suna Rintarou x gn!reader genre:fluff warnings: none betas:@lemonadencran thank you so much a/n: Fic is part of the Anilysium Confessions collab! You can find the masterlist here wc:1k
Movies are unrealistic, Suna Rintarou thinks; it has nothing to do with the movie currently being displayed on the screen though, even if there are superpowers involved (no matter how much he wishes to have those). As a grown man he knows they are a work of fiction and doesn’t question it, so no, it’s not about the superheroes.
It’s not about the horrors either—Suna doesn’t believe in monsters (the worst kind of monsters are people anyway), not in zombies, not in ghosts, not really in oni or youkai. The world is dark and evil as is, it doesn’t need anything supernatural to make it scary for many.
Actually, it doesn’t concern anything super-something, no, because those are obviously against the laws of nature, or physics, or whatever.
a/n;happy valentine’s day to both couples and singletons <3 to celebrate the occasion, i thought id return from the dead and write a lil sth sth about a character i barely write for on this blog jk its suna again but writing with him is genuinely so cathartic m'sorry anyways hope you like it <3
“Did you know it’s Valentine’s day today?” You ask out of the blue. You’re both laying in bed, with Suna resting on his back, one arm flung around your waist as you lay peacefully atop his chest. The other he uses to scroll through TikTok, but the sound of fleeting videos stops when you speak up, and you see Suna’s thumb stop moving like he’s frozen in time.
a/n;happy valentine’s day to both couples and singletons <3 to celebrate the occasion, i thought id return from the dead and write a lil sth sth about a character i barely write for on this blog jk its suna again but writing with him is genuinely so cathartic m'sorry anyways hope you like it <3
“Did you know it’s Valentine’s day today?” You ask out of the blue. You’re both laying in bed, with Suna resting on his back, one arm flung around your waist as you lay peacefully atop his chest. The other he uses to scroll through TikTok, but the sound of fleeting videos stops when you speak up, and you see Suna’s thumb stop moving like he’s frozen in time.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” You huff out a laugh as you lift your head from his chest, noting the genuine bewilderment on his face. He’s not usually one to forget things so you understand his reaction. Not that you mind— it would’ve slipped your mind too if it weren’t for the annual Valentine’s Day video Snapchat sent you earlier that day. Unfortunately, you had only opened that message once the day was pretty much over, and only now did you think of bringing it up. “Don’t worry, I only found out today, too.”
“You should have told me sooner,” he says, abandoning his phone on the bedsheets and using his now free hand to brush a few strands of hair from your face. “We could’ve done something.”
His gaze meets yours and you smile. It’s somewhere around eleven o’ clock, and the moon has reached its peak. Its glow pours through the sheer curtains of your shared bedroom and casts a soft blanket of silver across your bed. Coincidentally, it catches Suna’s eyes, revealing all three colours of his irises— slithers of amber and sapphire swimming in pools of the palest jade.
They’re even prettier like this, you think. But your figurative thought bubble bursts when Suna gently taps your nose, reeling you back to reality.
“True, but there’s always next time,” you offer. “But forget again next year and I might think you don’t love me anymore.”
“Forget what?” He feigns. You roll your eyes and he smirks.
“Very funny. But speaking of love— when did you start loving me? I don’t think I’ve asked you this before.”
“Oh no, we are not doing this,” he deadpans. He tries subtly drifting away from the topic by reaching out for his phone, but you’re quick to block it with your hand in hopes of reeling him back in.
“Oh c'mon, it’s Valentine’s Day!” You say, hoping the notion of said holiday would tide him over. “Consider this your gift to me and in exchange I’ll tell you when I started liking you— which FYI, was probably earlier than you’d expect.”
The latter part of your sentence rouses a small reaction from Suna, body reacting similarly to the way a cat’s ear would twitch when they hear something that sparks their interests. He tries playing it off nonetheless and upkeeps his nonchalant behaviour.
“What makes you think I even have an answer to that? I don’t have a date in mind or anything.”
“But you have something in mind, I bet. Plus, you can’t tell me you’re not the least bit interested in what I have to say.”
Suna shifts his gaze to the corner of the ceiling at that, which non-verbally answers your question.
“I mean, if it was for as long as you say…”
Little does he know, youhaveloved him for as long as you say. At the time you hadn’t fully realised it yourself. Your feelings had remained hidden for a good amount of time, burried deep beneath a concrete of denial, fear, and reluctance, until eventually all your inhibitions had been swept away in a crashing tidal wave that was Suna Rintarou. It swept you off your feet, away from shore and engulfed you in the uncharted waters of a newfound romance.
As for when this particular realisation occured, there were a few moments that came to mind, as did a list of reasons that strengthened your infatuation with him.
You’ve loved Suna ever since you associated the notion of comfort to his name, in the tranquil moments spent in each others company, watching the television with your legs tangled beneath a fluffy blanket. Studying for an exam in the library, knees brushing against each other though nobody ever brought it up. Driving home after a long day with the music turned down low, neither of you speaking, neither of you needing to utter a word in order to feel completely at ease.
You’ve loved Suna ever since you realised it’s his voice you seek whenever you’re at your lowest. His voice, slow and steady, calming in ways that seem almost medicinal. You’ve heard it loud and clear on the volleyball court more times than you can remember. You’ve heard it small and lazy when asked to read something aloud to the class back in your highschool days. But most importantly, it was his voice that soothed you any time your life has felt astray, whenever things weren’t working out the way you wanted, in times where you felt exhausted, disappointed, angry, scared or lost. It’s Suna’s voice that would utter out words of encouragement, of praise or advice, even when yours struggled to enounciate the source of your woes.
You’ve loved Suna and the way he smiles at you. It’s mostly smug, mostly reserved to when he’s teasing you. But your favourite has to be when he’s most unguarded, completely at ease when a grin lights up his face, prying his lips open enough to reveal a row of front teeth, neatly aligned between two pointed canines. These times are rare, as is the bright and cheerful laugh that erupts from his chest when he finds something particularly funny. It’s never failed to catch you off guard, fondness swelling in your chest and making it ache, lovingly so.
You’ve loved Suna and the silly game he and his little sister had invented. A game in which he would hold his sisters hands and spin around in one spot like a human beyblade, fast enough so that her feet would lift off the ground, grinning wickedly as he then let go and watched her fumble around on her feet, now totally unable to walk in a straight line.
You’ve loved Suna ever since you found out about that noise he makes after finishing the last of his chuupet on a hot day. That satisfied “ahh” he does before licking his fingers clean.
You’ve loved Suna and the way his gaze occasionally lingers on his lock screen when he thinks nobody’s looking. It’s a picture of you and him; it’s old and a little blurry but it never fails to make Suna smirk whenever he sees your surprised face lit up on his phone screen— flushed pink from the kiss he had planted on your cheek.
You’ve loved Suna and how generous he is when it comes to you. How he’ll always (secretly) buy you that pastry you were eyeing up in the bakery, only to surprise you with it later that day. How he isn’t too proud to return home with a random trinket that reminded him of you, or bringing you back an accessory or clothing item that thought would look nice on you.
You’ve loved Suna and the fact that he remembers. He remembers the small things, such as the name of your favourite song, the places you went on each of your dates. And, he remembers the bigger things. Like that even you have your bad days, that there’re days on which you want to be alone; knows which words you like to hear, need to hear and when you need to hear them. He remembers that like everyone, you have boundaries, and never has he overstepped them or made you feel small about wanting some time to yourself. He remembers to nurture you, to gather you up in his arms when need be, to treat you with utmost respect and love you unconditionally.
You’ve loved Suna when you finally pierced through the cloud of mystery that once shrouded the boy you met in high school. That the Suna you know is nothing like the rumours painted him to be. It was so easy to label him the prickly, quiet guy. The snarky second year who— outside of his small friend group— seemed almost impossible to approach. It’s a shame though, because if only they had given him the chance, they would’ve found that underneath his aloof demeanor lies someone playful, someone who’s a little dorky, who enjoys terrible puns and cheesy pick up lines, and shamelessly cackles at petty internet fights. He’s attentive, always listening to what you have to say, whether you’re rambling about a cute puppy you saw in the street, ranting about the bad hair day you’re having— even if you go on an in-depth discourse about that one character he’s probably heard of countless times before, he listens— without interrupting, forever invested in what stories you have to offer.
He’ll never understand just how much you’ve come to care for him, how much you’ve thrived on discovering these small intricacies that make the man you’ve come to love so deeply. The same man who used to tease you for your blatant crush on him, who’d scoff and poke fun at you whenever he caught you daydreaming. If only he knew the millions of thoughts that crossed through your mind, the whirlwind of emotions that swirled inside your chest each time you laid eyes on him.
“If only you knew,” you murmur dreamily, gazing at him in a way so lovingly it prompts a small, disbelieving chuckle to slip past his lips, eyebrows raised in earnest curiosity.
“Yeah? Don’t be shy, spill.”
This time it’s your turn to giggle and you feel your heart swell at the look on Suna’s face. You can tell there’s anticipation glinting behind his eyes, maybe even a hint of child-like excitement as he awaits your answer.
“I think…” You trail off, drawing out your sentence for dramatic effect. You reach up to brush your fingers across his jaw, keeping a feather-light touch as you run the pads of your fingers along the soft of his cheek, up to the curve of his cheekbone, burning the image of him in your mind. “I started loving you mostly for…”
“My…Irresistible good looks?”
You splutter as Suna flashes you— what is indeed— an irresistibly handsome grin. You crack a smile of your own and shake your head. “That’s a plus— but no.”
In that moment, Suna tilts his head, his expression softening momentarily. You can tell he isn’t in a teasing mood this time. He seems genuinely curious, invested in what you have to say. “Then what?”
“I think I started loving you when I began associating you with home,” you hum, gazing up at him with that same fluttering feeling in your chest as the day you realised: “That being with you felt like home.”
Suna turns speechless then, eyes still focused on you, and you’re surprised to see that his face has begun to flush pink. It starts colouring the high points of his cheeks and spreads to his ears, tinting them the most adorable shade of red. “Are you blushing?” You laugh out loud, asking the obvious. Your teasing doesn’t help Suna’s case, but he tries to maintain a shred of dignity by holding eye contact and responding to your question with a curt “no shit.”
“Why?” You laugh, prodding his cheek with your index. He’s quick to swat your hand away, and this time he does look elsewhere, unable to face your giddy little grin and relentless giggling.
“Jus’ didn’t expect such an honest answer is all..”
You coo at him which makes him click his tongue. There’s no real malice behind his reaction, though. He’s just so used to being the one who teases, so to have the tables turned always makes him react this way, all furrowed brows and clenched jaw. He’s also not used to you being so openly affectionate with him— at least not with your words. To hear you openly confess your feelings to him make his brain fog and heart stutter— like he’s once again reminded why you’re here, why he’s lucky enough to hear you say those words in the first place.
“Still with me?” You tease as you poke his chin to get his attention. He looks at you then, traces of rose still apparent on his pale features though it’s clear he’s trying to remain collected.
“Hush, you.” He rolls his eyes at your cheeky smile and decidedly pulls you closer to him. You find yourself caged in his arms, head slotted in the space between his chin and shoulder but you don’t protest. Instead, you wriggle closer to him, basking in his warmth, melting in his embrace. The feeling of him is so familiar. His voice, the way his heartbeat beats softly against the palm of your hand. Even his scent, that faint whiff of peppermint and his off-brand body wash feels like a comforting memory, like something that’s been here your whole life.
Feels like home.
“And you?” You inquire softly. For a moment you wonder if you had spoken loud enough because Suna doesn’t reply.
Until he eventually does.
“Same reason. Ever since I felt like I didn’t need to hide myself anymore. Guess you could call yourself my safe place.”
“Icould call myself your safe place?” You nag, hinting at the odd wording Suna was all too aware of. He can hear the smile in your voice, and luckily for him you’re unable to detect the new wave of heat that blooms across his face.
“You know what I mean.”
You laugh, then crane your neck so you can softly peck the underside of his jaw. “I know. Just wanted to hear you say it.”
“Maybe next year,” he says, patting your head. You scoff and lightly jab him in the gut.
“Late happy Valentine’s Day,” he chuckles, and you find yourself smiling despite yourself.
