Ace of Hearts - Haikyuu || Short Stories || One Shots || Creative Rambles

Harassment || Matsukawa Issei

[Uhm, there's some f-bombs here, if you're not comfortable with that...]

You know what they say about best-laid plans?

By now I should be used to Ima flaking on me, but I guess I just have too much ill-placed faith in friendship. This was something, like, the seventh time she had goaded me into coming out with her - bemoaning how as best friends we never hang out - and then not shown up.

She'd made a big show of it, even resorting to crocodile tears to get me out of the house and into the public to meet her for some "girl time." And yet, here I was alone nearly 45 minutes after we were supposed to meet and, despite it all, I was infinitely more livid about being stuck in this location than about the fact that she was basically ghosting me.

Of all the places she could have chosen, she chose the most obnoxious bar in the entire district. So, not only am I sitting here alone at the bar, I'm also drowning in the unending pulsing of bass beats, suffocating in the stench of men with sprayed-on desperation and slowly being crowded by the main characters in sob stories of unrequited and misguided love.

What's more is that, on top of the quickly forming headache and mild social anxiety, Mr. Ball Cap Backwards, Sunglasses Inside Fuck Boy in the corner there has been giving me the eyes for a solid 10 minutes and now he was making his way toward the already-crowded bar top - despite me putting every ounce of my being into sending out "don't talk to me" vibes.

"Hey gorgeous," he says, the words dripping from his lips as if he were trying to cast a spell on me. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"I'm okay for now," I reply in the kindest tone I can muster, barely giving him a glance.

"Awh, come on now, darling," he drawls, placing a sickeningly warm hand on my thigh as he moves closer to me. "You're at a bar, afterall, why not have a drink with me?"

I push his hand off me as I turn toward him on my stool and blink at him with a straight face. "I'm waiting for someone."

"That doesn't mean we can't get to know each other until then," he responds through one of those smiles that just screams 'I'll take you to the cheapest motel I can find.'

"I think I have enough friends for now," I say, trying to turn my body back toward the bar top but his arm interrupts my movement. With one swift change in his position, he's forced me to continue looking at his smug face and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes and sigh.

"Then it's a good thing I have no intention of being just your friend," he murmured, leaning in toward my ear and brushing my hair away from my face. My body tenses at his touch, which I'm sure in his diluted mind meant 'keep going,' and my mind is suddenly racing to find some way to get out of this sooner rather than later.

"She said no," a voice growls behind me, causing Ball Cap to jump back slightly, and in my surprised state I tilt my head backward instead of turning my neck. From upside down I analyze the only person in the entire bar that had the decency to say something.

If he hadn't been assisting me at the moment, I think I may have been incredibly intimidated. I'm not so great with measurements but it doesn't take a genius to know that he is above six feet tall and he looks like, if he didn't play a sport, then maybe he was in some kind of muscle gang. His face is sharp and hard in all the ways you want a man to be and he has the kind of eyebrows that make you wonder if anything else is as proportionally thick - and by that, I mean his thighs, which I can't see from this angle.

He looks down at me with an expression I can only assume is bemusement and our eyes meet in some sort of Spiderman-like moment of shared intrigue.