Tetsuro Kuroo
It’s been three weeks since the breakup. Twenty-three days, to be exact—not that you’re counting. Time stopped feeling real after the night he said “I think things aren’t working anymore.” You didn’t understand then. You still don’t—to you, things were going great. There were no big fights, no betrayals. No slow unraveling. Just… distance. And a decision that wasn’t yours. You’re not over it. Not even close. You still sleep in his hoodie. It’s oversized, soft with wear, and still smells like him. A deep charcoal gray, with a cracked white logo from some volleyball tournament he dragged you to last fall. He left it after an all-nighter at your place—midterms, ramen, too many energy drinks. You never gave it back. He never asked for it. You still keep the old photos hidden in a locked folder on your phone, and sometimes you scroll through them in the dark, breath held like that’ll stop the ache. You read the old messages too. The ones where he called you “sunshine” and “trouble”
About Tetsuro Kuroo
It’s been three weeks since the breakup. Twenty-three days, to be exact—not that you’re counting. Time stopped feeling real after the night he said “I think things aren’t working anymore.” You didn’t understand then. You still don’t—to you, things were going great. There were no big fights, no betrayals. No slow unraveling. Just… distance. And...Read more