Free! x Reader Boyfriend Scenarios {UNDER EDITING} REQUESTS CLOSED

Bonus! One-Shot

Hey guys! So I've recently read a one-shot on Instagram and this is a story inspired by that storyline. The one shot is "Wish for One More Day With You" by chocgukk.

At first I was thinking about making this a Makoto or Sousuke one shot, but ultimately decided to do (b/o/c)- boy of choice!

Possible tw: quick mentions of death, cancer, accidents *THESE ARE NOT SUPER PREVALENT IN THE PLOT BUT THEY ARE MENTIONED*

(B/o/c)'s POV
Flashback:

        I smiled as I walked out of the flower shop holding a bouquet in my hands. I'm sure my beautiful wife will love them. I was on my way home from the convenience store, but I decided to take a little detour to surprise her.
        When I got home, the house was eerily silent. I walked in and she was nowhere to be seen. As I put the items I got from the store on the table, I hear her footsteps running down the stairs. "(B/o/c), you're home!" She exclaimed, running over to me. I turned around and engulfed my wife into a hug, inhaling her sweet scent. As I let her go I handed her the bouquet and watched her grab a vase from the cabinet and pour water into it.
        All of a sudden I felt lightheaded. Like I was going to pass out, but I couldn't. It was like I was drifting away from my own body. I cried out to her. She turned around and ran over, holding onto me. "I'm right here," she whispered as I blacked out.
        I woke up in a daze; the room was white and I was pretty sure I was dead, but the beeping of the monitors around me told me otherwise. I heard muffling noises from outside of my hospital room. "She's gone... he's been seeing things again," a woman spoke. "I think it's time to do the surgery, please erase his pain," the woman begged. The doctor with her let out a grunt of approval. Before I could comprehend what was going on, I blacked out again.

Years Later
(Y/n)'s POV:
        I was cooking dinner for my husband, (b/o/c). He was going to be home anytime now. As the food was done cooking, I heard a car pull into the driveway. A few moments later, the door swung opened and I ran to welcome him. "Welcome home!" I exclaimed, as he ran over to me. He pick me up into a hug and spun me around. "Good evening, honey," he smiled as he held me at eye level. I giggled and ran my fingers through his soft hair. My fingers swept over the scar on his forehead—usually covered by hair—and a pang of guilt ran through my chest.
        A tumor. That's what he told me. When we first met, his hair was a bit shorter, and the scar was still visible for the world to see. (B/o/c) was pretty open about it; he told me that during his younger days, he had a brain tumor and he had to get a surgery for it. Afterwards, the memories from around that time was a little foggy, but they've never been that important to him. "We can make new memories" I heard his voice echo in my head. And I believed him.

Flashback:

A few weeks before our wedding, (b/o/c)'s mother pulled me aside to talk to me. "Honey, I need to tell you something about (b/o/c)," she waved me over. "That scar on his head wasn't from a tumor," his mother told me. Her eyes reflected pain and guilt. "Before (b/o/c) met you, he was married. Unfortunately, his wife passed away in a tragic accident. He was constantly paranoid and hallucinating; he still thought she was alive—that she waited for him to come home every night, and was still taking care of him. One day some of his friends found him on the floor. They rushed him to the hospital. There, nothing got better. (B/o/c) was still hallucinating and having dreams about his late wife. I made the decision to wipe away his memories. Everything about her is gone; all the years they spent together is gone! I got rid of all her things. When (b/o/c) woke up I convinced him that he had a surgery to remove a brain tumor; I convinced him to sell his house and move back in with me to recover. I'm so sorry, (y/n), but I had to save my son!" (B/o/c)'s mom cried, holding onto my hands. "Please take care of my baby, don't tell him about this... not until he's ready," she pleaded with me. All I could do was nod. As I headed home that day I felt numb; even though I've never doubted (b/o/c)'s love for me—and I still don't, I came to realize that he wasn't completely mine... the only reason he loved me was because he lost her.