Akaashi Keiji: Childhood Friends Is A Language On Its Own

Feb.20.2012 - July.20.2020

I expected to be sad and empty in the wake of Haikyuu, but it turns out that all I can feel is gratitude. I could try for a year and not be able to express everything I feel about this series. Thank you, Furudate-sensei, for 8 and a half years of hard work; thank you for letting us meet these characters; and thank you for showing us all that volleyball is fun.

[image is a drawing of two versions of hinata, in profile and facing away from each other; to the left, 15-year-old hinata sits hunched and defeated in the aftermath of being pulled out of karasuno’s last match at nationals. to the right, 25-year-old hinata strides confidently forward in japan’s national uniform. above, text reads: “today, you are the defeated. what will you become tomorrow?” to the left, and “yesterday, you were the defeated. what will you become today?” to the right.]

Something about how unhinged the Salesman/Recruiter does something to me. What if the reader is also a recruiter for the games? She's gotten used to his insane persona and knows how to handle it since they have to communicate about work. They'll often play games during these chats.

Sorry too many ideas floating!

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑇𝑤𝑜 [𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛]

.・。.・゜✭・

.・。.・゜✭・

ʀᴇᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ:ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:ʜᴇ sᴍɪʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪʟᴇ ғʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʜɪs ʏᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ ᴇᴄʜᴏɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀғᴇ́, ʙᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ʜɪs ᴡᴏʀᴅs ʜᴇʟᴅ ɴᴏ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ᴇᴅɢᴇ. "ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇ, "ʜᴇ sᴀɪᴅ, ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, "ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ."

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ, ɢᴀᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The café was bustling, but the hum of life around you barely registered. Your focus remained on the chair across from you, still empty despite the time ticking by. He was late, as usual.

You stirred your coffee, letting the bitter scent ground you. Working with him was a test of patience and resilience, but it was also... oddly thrilling. The Salesman, you didn't know his name since he was very isolated, was chaos incarnate, unpredictable in the worst—and sometimes best—ways.

“Miss me?”

You didn’t jump at his voice; you were too used to his dramatic entrances by now. He slid into the chair across from you, his ever-present smirk firmly in place. His dark suit was immaculate, the red tie a glaring slash of color that caught the light.

“You’re late,” you said, lifting your coffee for a sip.

“Fashionably so,” he quipped, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “But I see you’ve kept my seat warm. How thoughtful.”

“Hardly.” You set the cup down with a faint smirk of your own. “If you’d been much later, I’d have left.”

“Ah, but you didn’t.” He leaned forward, his sharp gaze locking onto yours. “You never do.”

The weight of his words hung between you for a moment, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you gestured to the briefcase he’d placed on the table.

“Are we doing this, or are you just here to waste my time?”

His grin widened as he reached into the case, pulling out a familiar bundle wrapped in cloth. Unfolding it revealed two ddakji tiles—bright squares of red and blue paper, their edges slightly worn from use.

“You know the drill,” he said, setting them on the table. “Winner takes all.”

“And by ‘all,’ you mean…?”

He chuckled. “Coffee, pride, the satisfaction of victory. Take your pick.”

You sighed, already reaching for one of the tiles. “Fine. One round.”

The first smack of the tile hitting the table drew a few curious glances from nearby patrons. The Salesman’s opening move was quick and sharp, flipping your tile with ease.

“Your turn,” he said, lounging back in his chair.

You studied his expression, the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes. He was too confident, as always. But you’d learned how to read him—his subtle tells, the little quirks that betrayed his intentions.

With a precise flick of your wrist, your tile hit his at just the right angle. It flipped cleanly, landing with the blue side up.

“Hmm,” you said, feigning indifference. “Looks like you’re buying the coffee.”

For a moment, he just stared at the upturned tile. Then, to your surprise, he laughed—a genuine, full-throated laugh that drew more glances from the other customers.

“Well played,” he said, clapping his hands together. “You’ve been practicing.”

“Or maybe you’re just slipping,” you replied, leaning back with a smirk.

He narrowed his eyes, but the smile on his face didn’t falter. “Careful, recruiter. Pride comes before the fall."

As the game ended, the conversation shifted seamlessly into work. He described his latest target with the enthusiasm of a storyteller spinning a particularly twisted tale.

“Mid-thirties, father of two, drowning in debt,” he said, ticking the details off on his fingers. “His wife just left him, and his parents refuse to help. Classic case. He’ll fold like wet paper.”

You nodded, though something about his tone made you uneasy. “And what happens when he doesn’t make it?”

“That’s not our concern, is it?” He leaned forward, his smile taking on a sharper edge. “We’re just here to open the door. What happens after they walk through it is up to them.”

You hated how easily he dismissed it, but you couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Still, the gnawing discomfort refused to leave.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said, watching you closely. “It’s a dangerous habit in this line of work.”

“Someone has to think,” you shot back.

His grin widened. “Touché.”

The tension between you had always been an undercurrent, a quiet hum that neither of you acknowledged outright. But tonight, it felt sharper, closer to the surface.

“You know,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence, “you’re the only one who’s ever beaten me at ddakji more than once.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” you replied, keeping your tone light.

“Or maybe,” he said, his gaze steady and uncomfortably intense, “you’re the only one who knows how to play my game.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. For a moment, you wondered if he’d crossed a line, but then he leaned back, the smirk returning to his face as if nothing had happened.

“Another round?” he asked, already reaching for the tiles.

You hesitated, the weight of his earlier words still lingering. But then you nodded, picking up your tile.

“Fine,” you said. “One more round.”

This time, the game wasn’t just about tiles. It was about control, power, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

The tiles hit the table with sharp, precise smacks, the sound echoing louder in your ears with each round. Your focus narrowed, every move calculated, every flick of his wrist analyzed.

Smack!

Your tile flipped his for the second time that night.

He stared at the table, then back at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might be angry, but then he smiled—a real, genuine smile that softened the sharp edges of his face.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “Looks like you win again.”

The words felt like more than just an acknowledgment of the game.

And as you sat there, the faint buzz of the café fading into the background, you realized something.

Maybe you weren’t just playing his game. Maybe he was playing yours, too.

He’s so crazy I can’t take him anywhere 🤪

— caramel frappucino.

✩ description. in which sakusa kiyoomi tries not to fall in love with the girl who spilled her favorite drink on him or;

sakusa being your breakfast buddy until you both realize your feelings and eat together for every meal

✩ pairing. sakusa kiyoomi x reader

✩ genre. college!au, enemies?? to lovers, friends to lovers, lovers to friends, crack, fluff, angst to the bones

✩ warnings. swearing; angst; basically my madness showing itself from time to time

✩ disclaimer. pictures used are not mine and are all credited to their owners. haikyuu characters are owned by haruichi furudate.

✩ status. ongoing 📝

TAGLIST CLOSED

✩ TABLE OF CONTENTS:

00 – introductions

y/n’s squad || sakusa’s squad

01 – let the clowns be

02 – pokemon macaroons

03 - don’t leave me on read

04 - something called love

05 - don’t miss me too much

06 - just us two

07 - am i doing it right?

08 - see you at 8

09 - mom, i think i’m in love

10 - code red

11 - she’s a psycho

12 - are you asking me on a date?

13 - that sounds desperate

14 - ship: sailing soon

15 - be a man

16 - please don’t be sakusa kiyoomi

17 - i’m just her friend

18 - let’s go out

19 - you were right, tooru

20 - the truth untold

21 - our love wasn’t meant to happen

22 - too early to break my heart

23 - damn you, tetsurou

24 - you like y/n

[...]

Doodle 🐳

Couldn't draw the other eye 😎

coach ukai

ukai keishin is a creature of habit.

he always buys the same brand of cigarettes, and the same colour lighter. he has used the exact same brand of soap since he was a kid. when he makes his coffee in the morning he always adds the same amount of milk, one sugar, stirs it three times clockwise and once in the opposite direction, blows on it twice, and then takes his first sip.

so imagine your surprise the day you walk into sakanoshita market and ukai keishin, creature of habit, your perfectly predictable boyfriend of four and a half years, is nowhere to be found.

because there's no way that the man standing behind the counter, apron on, twirling a cigarette between his fingers, with neatly combed brown hair is him.

it looks a lot like him, to be sure.

the same gentle slope of his nose, the same sharp brown eyes that light up when he spots you stepping through the door, the same little smile that you've seen curl up an identical set of lips countless times.

"what the hell did you do?"

the man who looks like (but is definitely not) ukai keishin's smile falters.

"hello to you too, sweetheart," he half-says, half-laughs. "what a terrible way to greet someone."

alright, this might be keishin.

"your hair," you finally take a step into the store, towards the counter, eyes still fixed on the head of hair that looks a lot like your boyfriend's but definitely isn't, because it isn't the same shade of peroxide yellow that Keishin had been dying it since the two of you were in high school.

the hand not fiddling with the cigarette reaches up to touch the brunette locks atop his head, though he's careful not to tousle them too much.

"you don't like it?" he asks, an uncharacteristic lilt of insecurity in his voice.

you pause.

"I... I just... give me a second," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. you draw a few deep breaths in, eyes closed, before looking at him again.

"so?" he says, an eyebrow (that for the first time in over ten years matches the shade of hair on his head) cocked. "what's the verdict?"

you step up to the counter, reaching out across it to run your fingers through the strands. they're softer than they'd ever been, and a little shorter too -- having clearly been freshly trimmed.

"you look..." you grapple for the right words. "really hot."

and you know without a shadow of a doubt that the man on the other side of the counter couldn't be anyone other than ukai keishin when you see the smile -- wide and toothy -- that stretches across his handsome face.

"you think so?" he asks, dropping his unlit cigarette in the ashtray in front of him, circling the counter to wrap you in his arms. there's no one around, so you let him -- though you're not sure an audience would have stopped you, anyway.

you can only nod as he holds you tight against him, smiling down at you with that same grin.

"why the sudden change?" you ask him, hands pressed against the front of his apron as your eyes search his face.

"well..." keishin looks away, his cheeks puffing out a little as he mulls over his response. "we're getting older you know -- can't have you walking around looking like you're dating a delinquent forever."

"but you were a cute delinquent," you laugh, pressing a kiss to the corner of his pursed lips.

"and I had something important to do today, too. wanted to clean myself up a bit for it," Keishin adds, his eyes scanning your face. the playful look from a moment prior has melted away, and as you stare up at him, you're reminded just how very handsome of a man that boy from your high school volleyball team has grown up to be.

your brows knit together in confusion. "oh yeah?" you ask, pulling away slightly. "and what was that?"

"I went to see your parents," keishin said, eyes fixed unwaveringly to yours, "to see if maybe instead of you dating a delinquent they'd be alright with you marrying one who was reformed."

—   ( SUMMER RAIN )

˚ SUMMARY. two unlikely students are paired together for a documentary — but sometimes love finds us in peculiar ways ( aka an our beloved summer au. or also in other words high school unlikely match / rival au )

˚ FEATURING. ayato, albedo, childe, kaeya, thoma, xiao x gn! reader

˚ WARNINGS. mentions of “pretty” in albedo’s. mild swearing. usage of mx

˚ LINKS. masterlist

˚ NOTES. im posting this even though it technically isnt valentines day yet for me but by the time i post this tmrw it wont be valentines for most people so … enjoy !! all fluff :D

( interlude )

“a documentary,” you say, slowly.

“yes,” the cameraman says. “it’s only for a month. we’re pairing up the [pair] and we’ll basically filming you throughout the month. just pretend we aren’t there — it’s just a documentary about youth life, and you just go on about your day-to-day lives.”

you hesitate. this sounds like a mistake.

it’s one month, a voice in your head whispers. you can do one month, can’t you?

you clear your throat. “so who’s the other person going to be?”

ayato: most proper and least proper

kamisato ayato has a rep around inazuma high and it isn’t necessarily a bad one

the only thing you know about him is that his family practically runs the town

and apparently, an asshole

he has a rep for being closed off – you never see him hang out with anyone other than his sister and thoma. and you’re on good terms with thoma - but you’ve never talked to ayato

you’ve never had reason to; you’re never in the same class as him, and he always seemingly disappears every time you approach thoma

stuck up ass, is basically what you’ve always thought of him; he often had an air to him that said he’s too good for everyone

you think he looks down on you because you’re not as prestigious as he is - he’s proper, he comes from a rich family. he probably doesn’t even need the money from the documentary

still, at first, in the documentary, you try to be friends with him.

it goes horribly wrong.

on the first day of the documentary, you buy yourself a coffee at the local coffee shop. and you end up buying him one as well

however, when you try to give it to him, you end up tripping it and spilling it all over his business project that he’s stayed up all night to work on

there’s a beat of absolute silence as he slowly looks up to stare at you. you swear his eyes are burning holes into your head

and then he slowly looks back down, grabbing his water bottle, unscrewing the top lid, presumably to take a drink.

“sorry” you say, hurriedly. “i was trying to give you coffee, because i know you always stay up-”

he dumps the water over your head

a small shriek gets stuck in your throat, as you get soaked from head to toe

“i said sorry,” you say. your voice isn’t angry, still in shock. but the anger rises in your chest all the same

“oh.” he looks back down at his project. his voice is nothing short of sarcastic. “sorry.”

and then, at that moment, you decide that you hate this kid. with a burning passion

and of course he never gets into trouble because nobody would ever suspect ayato of doing something bad

the only person who sympathizes with you is thoma who just shrugs with a crooked grin and says “he’s sly. there’s a reason he’s never gotten caught.”

you’re forced to sit in the same classes, next to each other, for the sake of the documentary

but even through the filming, you’ve never been afraid to tell the camera how much you dislike ayato

“oh things i hate?” you ask, staring at the camera. “kamisato ayato.”

he doesn’t turn his head to you but you can see his scowl all the same. “funny, i was going to say the same.”

your arguments are equivalent to a child’s argument — often times, when arguments spark, they’re accidents like the coffee; it only gives him more fuel to dislike you, and you to dislike him

once, he decides to give you coffee with a “sorry :(“ sticky note attached to it

and like the fool you are, you decide to drink it

he watches from outside the door, not being able to resist a smirk

salt floods your taste buds, but instead of spitting it out, you make eye contact with him in the door and continue to down the entire thing

ayato also basically has this claim to a parking spot in the school - it’s not technically his, but everyone’s agreed it’s ayato’s spot

you stole it as soon as you could

it becomes a competition on who can get to school first to steal the spot. and that leads to both of you being to school two hours earlier

which means you actually spend a lot of time together ! and soon, your dislike for him, melts into something softer

you like spending time with him. in fact, you look forward to it

and you don’t miss how his smiles become fond - sometimes, when you’re on the verge of falling asleep in class, you see him smile softly as you rest your head on his shoulders

or sometimes, when you wake up, you just find his jacket over your shoulders

and there’s this one time when someone else makes an off hand comment about your clumsiness

the next day, the kid doesn’t show up to school. and when he shows up again, his face is bright red and his hair has been dyed green

when you turn to ayato, he just gives you his signature smirk with a shrug. “i don’t get caught.”

you two end up terrorizing your teachers. they never figure out who has been leaving alarm clocks around the building to disturb class, and ayato always turns to you with a fond smile

“how do i feel about y/n now?” he breaks into a soft smile. “i love them — i couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime. but don’t tell them i said that. i will never hear the end of it.”

albedo: smart & smart

you’ve never talked to albedo before this - but you’ve noticed him from afar

you’re both top of your class - both of you competing for number one spot

he’s never had many feelings towards you, other than the fact that you’re smart. he notices your name on the top scorers of exams, but knows nothing of you other than that

you never see albedo hang out with anyone - he has a few people he talks to, but none that he ever seems to be friends with

and it’s not for a lack of trying either - you ask kaeya about him once, wanting to get an idea of who albedo was

and kaeya just says “albedo — a strange one. he’s nice. but don’t interrupt him while he’s working. or ask him to hang out. he will always say no. it’s quite embarrassing.”

but when you talk to albedo, he’s actually quite nice! he’s never been anything but kind to you

you work together on a lab, and he’s always been patient with you. you’re able to bounce ideas off each other, and you’ve never worked with someone better

the rivalry doesn’t kick in until the second day. and then oh boy

but you also work at a daycare after school hours — and there, you take care of a child named klee

and you love klee ! klee’s the best !

sometimes, you help klee make these little water bombs as pranks to help her terrorize this “big bad brother” she complains about in daycare

and you share all your knowledge with her

and then, one day, when klee decides to set off her bombs on “big bad brother” albedo asks klee where she learned to make these new kind of bombs

klee — the absolute icon she is — isn’t able to keep a secret. “mx y/n helped me,” she says, sheepishly, swinging back and forth

albedo stops. “y/n l/n?”

klee shrugs. “i think. they says they’re your age. i like mx y/n more than you. they let me go fish blasting!”

so the next day, albedo, naturally comes to ask if you work in a daycare and you know klee

“yeah, i know klee.” you chuckle, thinking about her. “the other day, i helped her make mini water bombs — not a dangerous kind, don’t worry — to prank her brother. she’s amazing.”

he gives you a deadpan look. “klee’s my sister.”

oh. oh shit.

“and by the way,” he says, “i make better water bombs than you.”

and if to prove it, the next day, you find a container on your desk. and when you open it, water sprays in your face

and next to you, albedo is chuckling

oh it is so on.

you do most of your pranks through klee, bribing her to prank albedo. and albedo does the same

you both compete to be klee’s favorite — and whenever albedo comes pick klee up, you both have to tone down on the swearing

but you two are never mean to each other - it’s always been fun little pranks, with no mean intentions behind it, something you both know

“how do you feel about albedo?” the cameramen ask you, once, for the documentary.

“albedo?” the cameras don’t miss the small smile that spreads across your face. “he’s kind. a little closed off, but an absolute menace.”

but even though your words don’t say the whole truth, the cameras catch it

the cameras catch every time when you’re working late in the lab and he brings snacks for you

or every time either of you don’t understand something, you’re always patient, while explaining it to the other

or sometimes, during class, if you’ve pulled an all nighter, he’ll let you rest on his shoulder as he takes a little more notes as usual that way you’ll be caught up in class

and one day, when you’re taking of klee, she tells you

“my brother says he likes you.” she grins from ear to ear. “he says you’re very pretty.”

needless to say, you played a clip of your documentary at the wedding

“how do i feel about y/n?” albedo hums. “don’t tell them i said this, but i’m happy klee likes them. i want to make them apart of our family.”

more undercut !

Keep reading

INFINITELY YOU SERIES MASTERLIST // link to general masterlist here

🕷️ SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

🕸️ WARNINGS - story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

PART ONE // back at the beginning

PART TWO // crullers & constants

oh i loveee this

Wake Up Call

pairing: Thanos/Choi Su-bong x f!reader

summary: Thanos is you're least favorite regular at the club you bartend for. But when you find him passed out against the building one night, you can't just leave him there. No debt/no games AU.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: drinking, drugs, addiction, depression

A/N: i'm really proud of this fic. expect a second part sometime soonish (gonna work on requests first tho). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

The music in Club Pentagon is so loud it feels like it's inside of you. You're placing the olives in a dry martini a patron is waiting for, handing it to them with a smile. You're one of the most popular bartenders at Club Pentagon. Men order from you because they're drunk and want to fuck you, and women order from you because they're more comfortable drinking cocktails that have been made by another woman.

"Señorita, over here!" A voice yells out to you and you sigh at the familiar voice.

You turn and put a hand on your hip, spotting the telltale purple hair of your least favorite regular. "What do you want?"

He puts a hand over his heart. "Ouch, you hurt me, baby. I just wanted to see my favorite girl."

You roll your eyes, grabbing a nearby towel and quickly wiping drops of different liquors off the bar. "Well, you saw me, so you can leave now."

He takes a glance at his little posse around him, consisting of guys hoping to get famous, girls wanting to say they slept with a rapper, and your least favorite coworker Nam-gyu. You have no idea how the runner still has a job here, considering he spends more time licking the failed rapper's boots than actually running anything.

"You know, I have an extra space at my table," he says. "I'd love if you came over after your shift. Thanos will treat you well."

You groan. The boy has been relentless in asking you out ever since you started working at the club. "I would rather sit with the movie villain than you." You look over his shoulder at your coworker. "Nam-gyu, take him away or I'm gonna volunteer you to clean the floors."

With a hiss, Nam-gyu puts his hands on Thanos' shoulders and steers him away from you. Thanos smiles over his shoulder, waving at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Señorita!"

You cringe, knowing that you most definitely will see him again tomorrow.

<>

The next night goes by much too slow for your liking. You spend your shift mixing the same drinks over and over, putting up with the men who flirt with you, and calling security on some men who won't leave girls alone. You had of course seen Thanos, but the club was so busy that you didn't even have the time to reject him, instead just huffing at him and turning to another person waiting at the bar.

Once your shift is over and you've finished everything you need to do, you step out through the back door, taking a deep breath of air that doesn't smell like smoke or alcohol.

As you walk toward the street to hail a cab, you spot a flash of purple against the wall. Getting a bit closer, you recognize the passed out body of Thanos.

While a small part of your mind is telling you to just leave him there, you know you can't do that. You crouch down next to him, putting your fingers on his pulse point and letting out a sigh of relief when you feel his heartbeat. You look down at him, furrowing your brows when you notice that the cross that always hangs around his neck is slightly open.

Carefully picking it up, you take a peek inside and see an assortment of multi-colored pills. Shit, he's lucky he's just passed out. Had you known he'd been on... whatever this shit is... you would've banned all bartenders from serving him drinks. He may be the bane of your existence, but you're not going to let him die.

You close the cross and remove it from around his neck, shoving it in your pocket. You lightly slap his cheek a few times until he blinks his eyes open, looking around him. He looks at you, eyes adjusting to the light.

"Hey, Señorita," he slurs. "Where is everybody? Where's Nam-su? He was supposed to take me home."

You let out a small chuckle at the name he called your coworker. "They aren't here."

He frowns, trying to stand up. "I need another drink."

You grab onto his shoulders, supporting his weight as he nearly topples to the ground. "I think you've had enough, Thanos. It's time to get you home."

He makes a sound of protest, but doesn't have the strength to stop you from dragging him to the curb as you wave down a taxi. The car pulls up and you help Thanos into the back seat before sliding in next to him.

"Where to, Miss?"

The plan was to take Thanos to his place, but you don't know where he lives and the odds of him telling you or the cab driver right now are slim. He also can't be left alone in the state he's in. One more pill could send him over the edge.

With a sigh, you tell the driver the address of your apartment building, holding Thanos upright as he pulls away from the club.

<>

Thanos wakes up, his head pounding worse than ever. He reaches for his cross to pop a pill to get rid of the headache, but instead of finding the necklace, his hands just grab his shirt.

He opens his eyes, hissing when the light makes a pang of pain go through his head. Looking down, Thanos' cross is nowhere to be found. That's when he realizes that he's not in his bed, or any bed, for that matter. He's laying on the couch in an unknown place, a small garbage can on the floor next to him. On the coffee table in front of him is a glass of water. He reaches for it, downing the whole glass in one go. Spotting a small note next to the glass, he picks it up and reads it.

'If you barf I'll make you clean it up. Use the garbage.'

He hears a noise coming from the other room and stands up, wanting to figure out what is happening and where he is. When he steps into the kitchen, he nearly gasps when he sees you with your messy hair and oversized t-shirt on.

You turn to look at him. "Oh good, you're not dead. I really didn't want to deal with that." You walk over to the fridge. "Blue or red?"

He gives you a confused look. "What?"

"Gatorade," you clarify. "Blue or red?"

"Oh, uhh, blue."

You grab the blue bottle and place it on the table. "Drink that. The electrolytes are good for hangovers."

Thanos walks slowly to the table, picking up the bottle and taking a sip. "Do you have a bathroom?"

"No, I just pee out the window," you deadpan without thinking. You see him look down, a look of embarrassment and shame taking over his face. You sigh. "Down the hall to the left."

The boy nods and disappears down the hallway. He walks into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He feels in his pockets, taking out his phone and huffing when he sees the battery is dead. Looking inside your medicine cabinet, he frowns when he can't find what he's looking for. How can you have no painkillers? Instead he takes the mouthwash, taking two big gulps. Mouthwash has alcohol, and he needs it. When he doesn't feel the familiar sting, he looks down at the label.

'Alcohol free'.

Just his fucking luck.

He puts the bottle back in the cabinet and closes it, coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes have never been darker, at least not that he can remember. His skin looks pale, and his hair is disgusting. He turns the knob for the sink, splashing his face with cold water.

When he walks back into the kitchen, you're no longer there. He moves to the table, seeing a plate with scrambled eggs and toast sitting next to his drink. Thanos hesitates, not really knowing what to do.

"That's for you, you know."

He jumps a bit when he hears your voice behind him. You come out of your room dressed in your casual clothes.

You smile slightly at his expression. "Do you not like eggs?"

He shakes his head. "No, eggs are good."

Your smile grows. "Good because that's all I know how to make. Do you want any hot sauce with it or something?" You put the rest of the eggs from the pan onto your own plate and leave the pan to cool off.

"Do you have pepper?" Thanos asks.

You nod, walking to the table and putting your plate down on the opposite side of his. "It's on the table."

Thanos cautiously sits down in his seat, reaching for the pepper and putting it on his eggs. He takes a bite, pleased to find that they are cooked just right. He watches you as you eat your breakfast in silence, scrolling through your phone mindlessly. A shot of pain going through his head and he winces. "Do you have any painkillers?"

You shake your head, not taking your eyes away from the screen. "I do, but I think you've mixed enough substances with whatever's in that cross you carry."

Thanos feels his entire body tense at the mention of his cross. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing ends up coming out.

You lock your phone and put it face-down on the table. "Don't worry, I didn't throw it out. It's in a safe place, along with the painkillers and anything else that could potentially be abused."

The boy lets out a breath and nods, continuing to eat slowly. He looks you over silently. Your face is bare of makeup and your hair is still messy. Thanos has liked you since the moment he first saw you at the club, but you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. "What happened? How did I get here?"

"I found you passed out outside the club last night when I was leaving," you explain. "You said Nam-gyu was supposed to bring you home but I couldn't find him, so I took you back here."

Thanos huffs. "Fucking idiot," he says under his breath.

You snort out a laugh, and Thanos thinks it might just be the most beautiful noise he's ever heard. He wants to know what he can do to hear that noise again.

You both finish your food in a comfortable silence, you looking at your phone and Thanos looking at you. At one point you catch him looking at you and raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath. "Why are you helping me? Why are you being nice to me? I've been nothing but an asshole to you."

You sigh. "Honestly, I've been asking myself the same question. I think I just saw you there, alone and in need, and I thought that I would've wanted someone to help me had they found me like that. You have been an ass, but I think that's more the pills than you."

Thanos nods slowly, taking in your words. "Well, thank you."

You nod. "Just please don't make me regret showing you where my apartment is. I don't wanna move."

The boy chuckles, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch up at the sound. "I won't. I promise."

"Good." You stand, taking your plate and his and bringing them to the sink. "I have off today. You're welcome to stay here for a bit until you're feeling better. I'll call a cab for you when you're ready."

Thanos goes back to the couch he woke up on, sitting down. He finds a charger for his phone and plugs it in. You come into the room, putting a new bottle of gatorade on the coffee table in front of him. He thanks you and cracks the seal.

The two of you end up talking for hours. He tells you about how he got into music, and you tell him that you always wanted to try learning to play the guitar, though you've never had enough money to buy one or the other equipment. Thanos feels his heart grow fuller with every laugh he is able to get out of you. He gets more satisfaction from these few hours spent with you than he has every night drinking his life away at Club Pentagon.

At one point, you look at him, a lazy smile on your face. "What's your name?"

He gives you a look of confusion.

"Your real name. I doubt your real name is Thanos."

He lets out a nervous laugh. He hasn't gone by his real name in at least a year. "It's Su-bong," he says shyly. "Choi Su-bong."

"Su-bong," you repeat, as if trying out how it feels. You smile at him. "I like Su-bong. You should be him more often."

Later, as you stand outside your building calling for a taxi, you turn to look at the boy next to you. "You know, you could be so much more than this."

He looks at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You have talent and heart, more than you've ever shown while out of your mind drunk and stoned," you say. "So many people's lives are ruined because they keep chasing that high. Don't be one of those people. Please. You're meant for better."

A cab pulls to the curb in front of you. As Su-bong opens the door, you put an arm on his shoulder, stopping him. Digging into your pocket, you pull out his cross and hand it to him. "The choice is yours. And if you decide you want to give your life another chance, I'll be here to support you." You hand him a slip of paper with your phone number. "This is for support. If you text me the way that you talk to me at the club, I'm going to block you. Do not make me regret this."

He smiles as he takes the cross and the paper from you. Once he sits in the car, he rolls the window down. "Thank you again, for everything."

You give him a small smile and wave before walking back into your apartment building.

Once inside his own apartment, Thanos walks to his bathroom. He takes the cross out of his pocket, opening it to find his pills. He picks one up, examining it. With a sigh, he drops the pill into the toilet, turning the cross over so the others follow. He watches as the bright pills swirl around bowl before disappearing down the drain. He doesn't want to be this person anymore. He wants to be someone that you can be proud of. Someone that he can be proud of.