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A/N: Oikawa's POV (III); Text in italics and bold are flashbacks

It’s been months since he left you.

But what was months felt like years to him; it felt like so much more when he kept on seeing you, even when he had his eyes closed.

Every day felt like a struggle to him, like everything he did was a chore; waking up, going to school, eating, talking to Iwaizumi, and even volleyball training – everything became a chore.

But the greatest burden that he bore was his own broken, suffering heart. A heart that was shattered by himself. A heart he so carefully encased in walls; a heart that he was afraid to fully give to you.

The magnitude of what he did was starting to wear him down, displaying on the darkened circles under his eyes and the noxious paleness of his skin. He did not meant for this to happen, no, not at all, and he most definitely did not want to break your heart.

But he still did – and no, it wasn’t because he didn’t love you anymore (his words were a total lie, and he himself knew that it was actually quite the opposite of that), but because he was afraid for you to see the chaos that he is. He never wanted you to get hurt – he was already contented with your shared smiles across the hall and the fleeting glances during class, but he became selfish and he just had to ask you out.

And when he realized that the walls he built around his messed up heart would come breaking down just by your smile, he decided to keep himself away from you by letting you go. He swore to himself never to seek you again, that he’d keep his broken self to himself.

Yet, he questions himself, why am I here?

He stands opposite to your house, the tinkling of bicycle bells and honking of cars a blur on the background.

Why am I here?

He walks to your porch, lifting up the small-potted cactus, finding the key still there. His palms started to sweat as he was reminded of you telling him you’d keep the key there, in case he’s going to go to your house unannounced.

But we’ve broken up. Why is it still there – Why am I here?

The door knob clicked and he swings it to the side, the smell of butterscotch greeting him. You always baked butterscotch cookies to cheer yourself up, he realized. He felt his throat get dry, his heart heavy, and he suddenly wanted to leave, but his traitorous legs started walking inside.

Why am I here?

He felt like he was walking on eggshells, not on the carpeted floors of your home. It hurt, so much, for him to feel at home
even though he shouldn’t.

Why?

Still, he continued on, and soon found himself facing the door of your room.

Will it hurt to see her?

He placed his hand on the knob, his forehead thumping softly on the wooden door.

Just one more time, one more, and I’ll go.

So he allowed himself to be selfish, just one more time.

He almost fell to his knees as he saw you, a lump on the bed, face stuffed on a plushie.

He saw you asleep on the bed, hugging a plushie that he hasn’t seen before. A grin made its way to his face, as he plopped himself on top of you, earning a groan in response.

“(F/N)~ hug me and not that plushie.” He whined as he felt you move underneath him.

“W-welcome home, Tooru.”

He rolls to the side and makes himself comfortable on your bed, closing his eyes contentedly as he hugged your torso. “Where did that plushie come from?”

“It’s a childhood toy. I hug it when I miss you.”

His heart clenched, his eyes burned – he wanted to scream. To beg for your forgiveness – anything, he’d do anything just to fix your broken heart.

But he’d done enough. You’ve already ruined her, he told himself, and so he bit his lip from letting a whimper out.

“Tooru?”

Too busy with wallowing himself in self-pity, he hadn’t noticed you waking up. His eyes trailed from the floor to yours, taking note of how dull and empty they looked.

Just like his.

“Tooru?” It was at that time that he despised his name – for how shattered it sounded coming from you. Still, despite the pain flaring up on both of your chests, he decided to stay while you started to take small steps.

With every step you took, he eventually took notice of your tear-streaked face.

Because of me.

I broke her – it’s my fault.

I should’ve stopped myself that day.

I should’ve controlled myself.

I should not have come, I shouldn’t have let her seen me, nor me her –

I should’ve-

“I miss you.” And the final tether he held shattered as you uttered those three words.

He broke down, not caring if you saw the real him, not caring if you’d repulse on the chaos that was him. He didn’t care, no, not at all, because he let his selfishness consume him – he only wanted to love you.

“I’m sorry,” His throat scorched at the sting of his words, he wanted to take the weight off his chest. The air was suffocating as he continued his mantra, tears cascading from his eyes as they blurred his sight.

He felt you wrap your arms around his defeated figure, hands tracing soothing circles across his back as he clung to you like a sobbing child who had just found his mother.

“I heard from Iwa-san.” Your voice wobbled as you placed your hands on both of his cheeks, making his eyes turn to look to yours,

“I love you, Tooru – thorns and all.”

And, he was home.

Description

A/N: Oikawa's POV (III); Text in italics and bold are flashbacks

It’s been months since he left you.

But what was months felt like years to him; it felt like so much more when he kept on seeing you, even when he had his eyes closed.

Every day felt like a struggle to him, like everything he did was a chore; waking up, going to school, eating, talking to Iwaizumi, and even volleyball training – everything became a chore.

But the greatest burden that he bore was his own broken, suffering heart. A heart that was shattered by himself. A heart he so carefully encased in walls; a heart that he was afraid to fully give to you.

The magnitude of what he did was starting to wear him down, displaying on the darkened circles under his eyes and the noxious paleness of his skin. He did not meant for this to happen, no, not at all, and he most definitely did not want to break your heart.

But he still did – and no, it wasn’t because he didn’t love you anymore (his words were a total lie, and he himself knew that it was actually quite the opposite of that), but because he was afraid for you to see the chaos that he is. He never wanted you to get hurt – he was already contented with your shared smiles across the hall and the fleeting glances during class, but he became selfish and he just had to ask you out.

And when he realized that the walls he built around his messed up heart would come breaking down just by your smile, he decided to keep himself away from you by letting you go. He swore to himself never to seek you again, that he’d keep his broken self to himself.

Yet, he questions himself, why am I here?

He stands opposite to your house, the tinkling of bicycle bells and honking of cars a blur on the background.

Why am I here?

He walks to your porch, lifting up the small-potted cactus, finding the key still there. His palms started to sweat as he was reminded of you telling him you’d keep the key there, in case he’s going to go to your house unannounced.

But we’ve broken up. Why is it still there – Why am I here?

The door knob clicked and he swings it to the side, the smell of butterscotch greeting him. You always baked butterscotch cookies to cheer yourself up, he realized. He felt his throat get dry, his heart heavy, and he suddenly wanted to leave, but his traitorous legs started walking inside.

Why am I here?

He felt like he was walking on eggshells, not on the carpeted floors of your home. It hurt, so much, for him to feel at home
even though he shouldn’t.

Why?

Still, he continued on, and soon found himself facing the door of your room.

Will it hurt to see her?

He placed his hand on the knob, his forehead thumping softly on the wooden door.

Just one more time, one more, and I’ll go.

So he allowed himself to be selfish, just one more time.

He almost fell to his knees as he saw you, a lump on the bed, face stuffed on a plushie.

He saw you asleep on the bed, hugging a plushie that he hasn’t seen before. A grin made its way to his face, as he plopped himself on top of you, earning a groan in response.

“(F/N)~ hug me and not that plushie.” He whined as he felt you move underneath him.

“W-welcome home, Tooru.”

He rolls to the side and makes himself comfortable on your bed, closing his eyes contentedly as he hugged your torso. “Where did that plushie come from?”

“It’s a childhood toy. I hug it when I miss you.”

His heart clenched, his eyes burned – he wanted to scream. To beg for your forgiveness – anything, he’d do anything just to fix your broken heart.

But he’d done enough. You’ve already ruined her, he told himself, and so he bit his lip from letting a whimper out.

“Tooru?”

Too busy with wallowing himself in self-pity, he hadn’t noticed you waking up. His eyes trailed from the floor to yours, taking note of how dull and empty they looked.

Just like his.

“Tooru?” It was at that time that he despised his name – for how shattered it sounded coming from you. Still, despite the pain flaring up on both of your chests, he decided to stay while you started to take small steps.

With every step you took, he eventually took notice of your tear-streaked face.

Because of me.

I broke her – it’s my fault.

I should’ve stopped myself that day.

I should’ve controlled myself.

I should not have come, I shouldn’t have let her seen me, nor me her –

I should’ve-

“I miss you.” And the final tether he held shattered as you uttered those three words.

He broke down, not caring if you saw the real him, not caring if you’d repulse on the chaos that was him. He didn’t care, no, not at all, because he let his selfishness consume him – he only wanted to love you.

“I’m sorry,” His throat scorched at the sting of his words, he wanted to take the weight off his chest. The air was suffocating as he continued his mantra, tears cascading from his eyes as they blurred his sight.

He felt you wrap your arms around his defeated figure, hands tracing soothing circles across his back as he clung to you like a sobbing child who had just found his mother.

“I heard from Iwa-san.” Your voice wobbled as you placed your hands on both of his cheeks, making his eyes turn to look to yours,

“I love you, Tooru – thorns and all.”

And, he was home.