FRIENDS & FIGHTING

(a / n) kinda based off of friends by ed sheeran ! this is also going to be in first person, which i haven't done. this is kyoutani's pov.

"we're just friends!" you say, smiling nervously across the table at your parents' house. that's funny, i think. because i'm sure friends don't hold each other's hands under the table.

"we're just friends," you explain tiredly to watari. i think our definitions of friends are completely different. my definition of friends doesn't include making out in the locker rooms when no one is around.

"we're just friends," you say to the flight attendant, laughing quietly on the plane. maybe friends use each other as pillows every once in a while, but i don't believe friends kiss each other's foreheads when the other one is 'asleep'.

"we're just friends," you tell yourself while you're sharing a bed with me. maybe i wasn't supposed to hear that. but nonetheless, it seems you have to convince yourself that we're just friends.

you've said it so often it sounds like a mantra. i don't think it's to reassure people anymore; i think it's to reassure yourself. god forbid we become anything other than friends.

if we were friends, i think angrily, he'd have just chosen to sleep on the futon. and he wouldn't have kissed me in the locker rooms or on the plane. and he wouldn't have held my hand under the table. we're not friends. 

ϟ

"kyoutani and i are just friends," you chuckle. it's so clear that this is a lie and i'm sure iwaizumi can see right through it but he says nothing.

oikawa looks at me and raises an eyebrow. i can't speak up, betray you, because then what kind of friend would i be? i look down. "well," oikawa says. "if anything ever develops, feel free to tell the team."

"we'll support you," iwaizumi adds quietly. the two third-years share a glance and i suddenly wonder if they aren't friends either.

ϟ

"i don't want to be friends," i mutter quietly, staring straight ahead at some shitty movie playing on the tv. you're leaning on my shoulder but there's a perfectly good arm of the sofa only a foot away. you could very easily lean on that instead but your definition of friends allows you to lean on my shoulder while staying my friend and nothing else.

your eyes widen and you turn your head to face me. "what?"

"i said," i repeat, louder this time, "i don't want to be friends."

"what do you mean?" you ask carefully, worry creeping into your voice. you sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself and turning your whole body towards me.

i sigh. "i don't know yahaba. our meanings of friends seem to differ. i know that my meaning of friends doesn't include someone you're in love with." i mutter the last part under my breath, hoping you didn't hear it. 

of course, just my luck, you did. "what?" you looked like a deer caught in headlights, the tv's low light just barely illuminating your eyes. they look scared.

"i don't know, yahaba. i thought you might've figured out by now that i'm in love with you. clearly i was fucking wrong." i roll my eyes, pushing myself off of the couch and walking into my kitchen because this is my house and i could so easily kick you out and people think i'm so strong but i don't have the strength to do it.

i hear your feet pad into the room. the tile does nothing to silence your entrance. "what do you mean, you're in love with me?" you demand. i turn around and you have your hands on your hips, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. i try my best not to think about how nice your lips would feel on mine or how comically adorable you look, standing there all confused. i might've laughed if i wasn't so frustrated.

"you have no perception for how much someone cares about you, do you?" i burst. you look at me blankly. not helping my worsening temper. "i mean i love you. i mean i want to kiss you and not have to worry about ruining our friendship, or whatever the hell you'd call it. i want to hold your hand while we're walking down the street. i want- i want to- god, i don't know what i want. but i know what i don't want. i don't want the, 'we're just friends' excuse anymore. if i hear that one more time i'm going to rip my hair out of my scalp."

your eyes grown in size again. you suddenly look a lot smaller, hands wrung together and back hunched at a clearly uncomfortable slope. you looked to be trying to hide inside of yourself. "kyoutani, i had no idea-"

"of course you didn't! you were too busy making out with me in the locker room and holding my hand under the table whenever it was convenient for you! did you ever stop for a second and think about how i felt about any of this?" i yell. i had yelled at you before, but this was different. i may have sounded mad, but i wasn't. i was hurt and you knew me too well.

"kyoutani, i thought you knew that wasn't anything serious," you say quietly, looking down at the white floor tiles shining under the kitchen light.

"just because it wasn't anything serious to you doesn't mean it wasn't anything serious to me," i say, lowering my voice. "i meant the world to me."

you just stare at me, mouth agape. you clearly don't know what to say.

"since it didn't really mean anything to you, i guess it wouldn't mean anything if i asked you to leave." i say bitterly, not looking at you.

"kyoutani, i still-"

"you still want to be friends don't you?" i interrupt you. you don't say anything, and i take your silence as a yes. "i clearly said i didn't want to be friends."

"i know what you said, but i-"

"if my friendship was so important to you, you wouldn't have led me on like that," i say simply. you don't argue.

"you know i can't be in a relationship right now," you insist, your tone of voice changing to pleading.

"and i can't be just friends with you," i whisper. "especially not if you're going to kiss me or lay with me because you feel like that's okay. it isn't." every word felt like i was punching you, and the way you were flinching made it seem even more like a reality. "please spare me and just go."

you left wordlessly. i still don't know if i'm thankful for that or if i wish you had stayed.