haikyuu!! x reader ≫ one-shots

Sawamura Daichi | S.

snapshot.
things you did after we fought

He'd never seen you like this; shoulders slumped and breathing heavily.

In. Out. In. Out.

He holds his breath all the while, though he doesn't mean to.

Then again, you'd never shouted at him before, and nor had he ever shouted at you either.

It had all escalated so quickly, both of you caught up in your emotions and differing paradigms about one specific thing. You, caring too much and he, seeming as if he cared too little.

You stood in the space between the kitchen and the living room, head lowered and eyes fixed on the floor. The marble kitchen island separated the two of you

"Daichi..." You whisper, tugging at the ends of your sweater.

He has never heard you say his name like that before.

He wants with everything within him to run over to you and embrace you and just never let go because the fact of the matter is is that at this moment in time, where his feet start to grow cold against the kitchen tile and his head hurts from arguing, that he is so scared.

Scared of losing you.

Scared that he already has.

He nods in response to his name even though you don't see it, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I think..." you begin softly, shifting your weight. "I think I just need to be alone for a little while."

It's the first time you've moved for a whole minute and it startles him.

You begin to move to the entryway, right next to the kitchen.

You seem to move in slow motion, and he feels as if he can't even breathe as he watches you change from your slippers into your sneakers.

"It's cold outside," he can hear himself whisper hoarsely.

He doesn't know if you heard him or if you even care as your hand comes to rest on the door handle.

He whispers your name, and it is lost in the many thoughts you are trying to process.

He can tell you've put up a wall that keeps him from reaching you. He can feel the dull beginnings of his heart breaking.

Before you can twist that handle, he makes his way over to you in a matter of two strides.

He wraps you in his arms.

He holds you there firmly as you struggle, albeit tiredly, against him.

He hates that you do, and with each movement in protest to his embrace, he can feel tears prick his eyes.

But then...

Then you stop.

And then a sob escapes your lips, and then you're moving to bury your face in his sweatshirt.

"I'm sorry," you cry, holding onto him tightly.

"I'm sorry too," he whispers, running a hand through your hair.

You cry more, dampening his sweatshirt with your tears, and he holds you all the while, rocking you back and forth.

An unspoken promise is made.

You'll get through this together.

Things will get better from here.