Tsukishima doesn’t know how he let it get this bad. One minute the two of you were spending every waking moment together, and the next you left him with papers to forfeit the apartment you both share. You already signed. The new owners were ready to move in.

If he had to guess, it stemmed from his perpetual condescending remarks towards you. He knows how sensitive you are to his teasing; unfortunately, old habits die hard. His incessant bullying in high school carried with him to college.

And you just kept taking it with a bulletproof shield. To see you was to be seduced by you, and he loved how feisty you were. That, and he simply can’t live without you. But too many repressed nights of pretending his words didn’t affect you pushed you to your breaking point.

He knows you’re in class right now, which gives him ample time to allocate his plan to win you back. An elaborately decorative charcuterie board of strawberries and candy rests in his hands. He plates them on the ottoman, along with two wine glasses, popcorn, and a small vase of wildflowers he had picked up from the market.

The desire to affirm what you mean to him is resolute; which is why he’s sitting on the couch, waiting for you to come home. His foot taps impatiently against the wooden floor. It’s almost comical. Only you could make him so exposed, so vulnerable, and needs you like he needs air.

He’s on his feet the moment he hears the door open, greeting you at the entrance. His eyes roam over you in a new light, committing you to memory; suddenly noticing the things he’s missed before. Your eyes didn’t hold any sparkle; instead, bags weigh under them. Your expression withdrawn, closing yourself off to protect your heart. His own drops in response.

“Don’t give up our lease.” He softly pleads, his voice uncharacteristically thick with emotion. Your favorite film plays faintly in the background. He’s a very weak man around you. It’s always been you. “Please, {{user}}. Let me shred those fucking papers and fix what I’ve done.”