fairyofprose

well, it wasn’t that delusional of you to think so. suna seemed so unbothered by his surroundings all the time, barely paying any attention to what was occurring around him and only looking for an excuse to nap or scroll mindlessly on his phone. or simply sit there, a blank stare plastered onto his unfairly pretty face with his hands stored in his pockets – or into his pants when he couldn’t find any, which was weird, truth be told. 

yet somehow, you still caught his hooded eyes focusing on you from time to time and it had you freaking out. 

it was a bit embarrassing, truly, thinking about all those times you had to clumsily flee his insistent gaze. like that one time you were looking for a place to sit at the cafeteria and, after safely putting down your plate of food, nearly dropped on your butt when you realized suna was taking a seat at the same table. after apologizing for the inconvenience, you basically fled from the scene, refusing to face the guy you were so infatuated with. 

said-guy thought it was adorable. maybe it was a bit sadistic of him, he pondered for a few seconds, watching as you blinked dumbly at him, neck basically craning to get a good look at him before whipping your head down and running to the opposite side of the hallway after bumping into him. 

“yer horrible, rin,” atsumu taunted, slapping his friend on the back with his usual annoying smirk. “scarin’ that girl away.”

“shut up,” suna mumbled from behind his mask, making his way out of the building and walking to the gym where their coach was most likely going to yell at them from being late, once again. 

suna didn’t know when it started. he wasn’t sure when he started paying close attention to you and your existence, at all. he usually didn’t bother with people outside of the volleyball club, believing it was a hassle. it was tiring, really, having to maintain relationships and emotional connections and communicating and committing – God, just the thought made his skin crawl. 

or maybe he did know when everything had begun.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

it was a particularly annoying day – one during which he had to deal with the miya twins’ antics more than the required weekly quota. while they were arguing in the gymnasium, chasing each other down and nearly punching each other to unconsciousness, he was practicing blocks, serves and spikes with aran and some other players. 

it just so happened that you had forgotten your lunch on one of the benches after P.E class. walking into the gym, you quickly made your way to your not-so-discreet baby pink bag, cute little bunny patterns all over it. you didn’t really pay much attention to what was going around and, before you could process the very loud ‘watch out!’ directed at you, large hands had found their way to your waist and your world was spinning. 

suna grunted, sharp features twisted with pain as the ball hit the sore muscles of his back. slowly, you detangled yourself from the sturdy chest you were pulled into, hands resting on broad shoulders. it only took you a good minute of dumbfounded staring, even dumber clueless blinking, for you to realize what had occurred. 

mortification painted your face in shades of red, your head immediately downcast to avoid suna’s penetrating – yet somehow soft, at the moment – gaze. he tilted his head to the side, a smirk curling his lips up as he made sense of your visible embarrassment. and while it might have annoyed him on any other occasion, for some reason, he found it irresistibly adorable. the way you took several steps back and nearly tripped and fell again, stammering apologies and messily bowing at him and his teammates before bolting outside, this time, with your lunch. 

“ya look creepy when y’smile,” atsumu told suna, earning himself a side-eye and a shrug. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

to your utter misery, nothing escaped suna rintarou. your not-so discreet glances his way, your lingering in the classroom while he lazily packed his stuff while atsumu was ushering him to go faster, your way of making sure you two weren’t sitting too far from one another in the cafeteria – a table or two away. 

at first, you had piqued suna’s curiosity. he didn’t connect the dots right away, assuming you were interested in one of the miya’s – if not both. to his grand misfortune, he always found himself with one, or the other. and sometimes both, which was even worse because, while osamu was easy to handle, the moment atsumu was in the vicinity, they were a nightmare to be around. 

the only thing that kept the middle blocker going was the fun videos and pictures he posted on his personal instagram, dragging both their names through the mud. 

but then, he started realizing little by little that you weren’t interested in any of them. 

the first eliminated candidate was atsumu. all suna had to do was observe the way you rolled your eyes at his yelling and slapped the back of his head whenever he tried to jokingly flirt with you – that was also when he discovered that apparently the three of you were childhood friends. 

the second was osamu. you often found yourself having to bring their lunches over because of how airheaded the both of them were. huffing and puffing as you mused about how he was so forgetful of his meals for someone who loves food so much. 

it wasn’t really telling, truth be told, but suna knew better. he knows the look of love, as cheesy and silly as it sounds. and all he could see in your eyes was pure disappointment. maybe a bit of disgust too, which he found absolutely hilarious, cackling about it to the two pissed off boys. 

and so, just like that, he was back to square one again. he didn’t linger there for too long though. 

your history teacher had lovingly given you an assignment to work on in groups and your unfortunate soul was sick the day he had announced it. 

groggily waking up from a not-so-restful nap, you had found yourself being assaulted by a multitude of messages from your dear best friend, screeching about how you got matched with suna since he was too busy sleeping to bother pairing with anyone. 

and so you had to meet countless times for your presentation. and that was when suna’s investigation was finally progressing. 

his weeks, if not months, of observing you had shown him that you were far from shy. you could be even louder than the twins if needed to but most of the time, you were as sweet as honey. you were gentle with your words and adorable in your mannerism. 

yet there was something he had slowly realized the more you guys spent time together. while you didn’t have any issues speaking your mind with your childhood friends, you were incredibly timid in his presence. barely looked him in the eyes. you couldn’t put two sentences together without stumbling over your words – and that would often happen whenever he’d lean in because your voice was just so uncharacteristically quiet. 

at first, he thought that it might have been because you and him weren’t exactly as close as you were with osamu and atsumu. but then again, shouldn’t you have gotten a bit more comfortable after a month? and how come you had so much ease carrying a conversation with kita shinsuke of all people in the damn school. 

the hypothesis that you might harbor any sort of feelings for him had come to suna on a random wednesday night. and he had found himself laughing so hard that his baby sister, who climbed into his bed after allegedly having a nightmare, had to slap him with her tiny hands to shut him up.

suna wasn’t cruel. he wasn’t one to toy with anyone’s feelings or give them high hopes only to let them down. so he didn’t see the harm in flustering you and getting sweet reactions out of you. he didn’t think it was that horrible of him to slip in little ambiguous remarks or send questionable texts whenever you would ask him a very easy question regarding your history project. 

after all, suna liked you. 

the realization didn’t come to him as a shock. he had never shown this much interest in anyone, couldn’t keep his eyes or mind off of you and hated how you were so comfortable with everyone but him – although he found it amusing, he did wish you could treat him like everybody else sometimes. 

and that was when your doom had befallen you. 

it started slow. his fingers brushing yours whenever you’d land him stationary, your name rolling off his tongue in a way that made your insides twist and churn, his eyes following you around and his little smirk. that stupid smirk of his that looked so cocky yet so soft when directed your way. 

you hated him. 

“he’s playing me!” you whined to your friend, your forehead slamming painfully over your desk as you gave up on catching up on due homework. 

said-friend only hummed at your little crashout – which actually was probably the tenth or so – the sound of her pencil against her textbook the only response you were given for a couple of minutes. 

“he doesn’t seem like the type, though,” she finally retorted, putting down her supplies for a well-deserved break. sparing a glance to your deadpan expression drew a little smile on her lips, ruffling your hair affectionately. 

“he looks like he would play you,” she admitted, nodding along to your delusions. “but isn’t he way too lazy to do that? you said so yourself, he barely is able to maintain friendships. why would he bother playing around with you?” 

a long sigh was your answer. well, she wasn’t wrong. one thing about suna was, he didn’t put extra effort into any of his relationships. the only thing holding up his friendship with the miyas was how obnoxiously clingy atsumu was and, as a consequence, osamu would follow along. and it just so happened that osamu and suna were strangely similar, making them now inseparable. 

otherwise, he really didn’t bother much. he didn’t cling onto anyone, didn’t try to specifically get to know the people around him and would only keep who he deemed important to him close. you’ve heard him once mumble about how human interactions required so much effort he simply could not spare, making you wonder how the hell did he even end up in a volleyball team when the whole concept of that game was teamwork. 

but then again, suna wasn’t heartless. he was a sweetheart of an older brother to the baby sister you had seen once while on an outing to get fresh pastries from your favorite bakery. relationships might be a lot of work for him but you could tell he valued the miyas more than he let on. hell, he even helps them reconcile after they have a fight – not without laughing at them first. 

“he’s cruel though,” you muttered, your voice edging on a whine. “if he’s not a player then why can’t he let me have a peaceful high school life?”

“you’re cute to tease, that might be why,” she chuckled in response, watching as your lips jutted out into a point, proving her point. “besides, he cannot be that bad, can he?”

he was. 

in fact, he might as well reveal that he was the devil himself and you wouldn’t even be surprised. 

a couple of days before your presentation, you found yourself at the library, waiting for suna to show up so you could wrap up your little project surrounding the heian period. hunched over your laptop, you were adding up little details to make your slideshow as pretty and as presentable as possible, correcting typos and removing excess information before you felt a figure looming behind you. 

you didn’t have the time to turn around before suna leaned over your shoulder, lips so close to your ears you could hear every breath he drew in and drew out, brushing over your blushing cheeks. 

“got the wrong kanji here,” he mumbled, pressing his finger lightly against your screen, pointing out his misspelled name. 

you stopped breathing for a hot minute. maybe two. hell, probably more judging by how you were basically suffocating. 

noting your lack of reaction, suna turned his head to take a glance at your face, and you nearly died when his lips accidentally brushed against your cheek. you could die right now and you would die a happy woman. 

a low chuckle slithered its way into your ear, so close it had goosebumps rising on every inch of your body, making you jump right in your seat and inch away from him, eyes wide. 

“i’ll fix it,” you managed to choke out, not moving at all. 

seeing how you didn’t even budge, suna bit down on his bottom lip, amusement painted all over his features as another evil little scheme had a lightbulb shine over his head. he whispered something like ‘it’s okay, i got it’ before caging you between both of his arms, deleting his name from the slideshow and typing it again. 

slow. way too slow. 

the heat on your cheeks felt like it was transferring to your entire being, your whole body burning up as he took his sweet time writing his name. you grew dizzy from the proximity, close-on intoxicated from his scent and you might as well pass out from every huff and puff of laughter he occasionally let out. 

so, so close to your ear he was basically penetrating your soul uninvited – or maybe you had let him in way before you could even notice his intrusions.

“cute,” he teased, poking your soft cheek with his finger before finally taking a seat beside yours.

you deflated like a balloon, giving up on every futile attempt to maintain the little dignity you had left as you let yourself collapse on the desk, hiding your face away from him. at suna’s chuckle, the librarian shushed him, bringing unwanted attention to your table.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

you had wished that your life would finally go back to normal once the presentation was over. you would go back to swooning over suna from the sidelines, doing your little cheerleading club activities and nearly dying under your massive mountain of schoolwork you keep procrastinating. 

but of course, you were never granted mercy. 

“i’m glad this is over,” suna sighed, followed by a soft smile as he looked down at you, watching how you took your time packing your things back into your bag neatly. 

you had a specific way of organizing your bag, making sure the bigger books were at the back, the smaller at the front and your cute bunny patterned pencil case at the front, which did not escape suna’s perceptive gaze.

he found it oddly cute but didn’t comment on it, sparing you the embarrassment. 

once you were finally done, you both left the class together to go to the cafeteria, slowly making your way through the crowded hallways. 

suna leaned against the wall, sighing as he noticed how long the queue was. 

“yeah, i’m glad it went well,” you smiled shyly, looking up at him with a timid gaze and blushy cheeks and suna patted himself on the back for letting his hair grow long enough to hide his ears. 

ears that were definitely tinted red. 

God, you were so cute he might eat you up instead of the mediocre school lunch. 

under his insistent gaze, you pulled on your uniform’s sleeves, your hands barely peeking through the white material of your shirt. you shifted on your feet, humming nervously as you tilted your head to the side, unused to this sudden quietness. well, suna didn’t talk much. but it was just… weird. how his hooded eyes seemed to darken even more. the way he leaned his head back against the wall with a heavy sigh. the teeth pulling on his bottom lip as his brows furrowed with what seemed like frustration. 

you were going to be the death of him and you had no clue. 

huffing out, he regained his composure, throwing a playful smirk your way. 

“you always that jittery?” he asked, drawing his words out lazily, his tone taunting you. 

as expected, you huffed and puffed, pouting and slapping his arm, looking as threatening as a little angry kitten. 

yeah, his appetite has definitely shifted to something else. 

“shut up,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. you really couldn’t have one cute moment with him before he’d act like a cocky idiot again. 

a lighthearted chuckle spilled past suna’s lips, melting your frown and replacing it with a smile of your own. he sounded so boyish, almost uncharacteristic to his usual deadpan persona. 

you loved it.

“c’mon, sweets” suna murmured, stepping close to you. gently, his fingers pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, playing with the tips of your soft curls. he tilted his head down, smiling at the way you giggled at the stupid nickname he had chosen to give you on a random hangout at the library. 

“don’t be so mean to me, yeah?” the pleading edge to his low voice had your knees weaken, and you might have turned into a pathetic puddle at his feet if it were possible. 

“ya guys ‘re disgutin’,” atsumu’s voice shattered your little moment, making you roll your eyes in annoyance. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

doomsday has finally come. and instead of ending the entire human race it just chose to take your soul away and let your body to rot on God’s green and beautiful earth. 

what the hell. 

“don’t be like that,” suna chuckled, watching how baffled you were. your eyes as wide as saucers and your mouth agape, you wondered if you didn’t just imagine what he had said. 

well, clearly you didn’t, judging by how he just insisted more. 

the gymnasium was empty, and you were still in your cheerleading outfit while he was in his practice clothes, leaning towards you as he pushed his finger onto your nose, booping it. 

“ya like me, don’t ya?” he asked, the little accent he was slowly adopting ever since he had moved to hyogo tooting its horn. “should i make ya confess?” 

your mouth closed before any fly could allow itself inside. your blinking came to a stop, clearing your throat as you tried to play it off as something else entirely. 

“i- i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you blurted out a little too fast for you to seem as unbothered as you tried to. 

surprise, surprise, suna was impatient. he might have played around with you for a couple of months but his patience was running thinner than the ice atsumu walks on when kita is around. and he was hanging onto his last threads of sanity already, wanting nothing else but to just be yours.

“liar,” he mumbled, taking a step closer to you. you took one back. 

his pace got faster, forcefully pushing you into a wall and leaning his face so close to yours you couldn’t see anything else but his pretty eyes and tempting lips. hot puffs of air brushed your face gently, his thumb caressing your burning cheeks as your mind closed shut to the pleading gaze in his greenish pools. 

“i- sunarin,” you whined, pushing uselessly on his chest, knowing damn well you weren’t strong enough to push him away.

“tell me,” he practically begged, his forehead pushing into yours as his other hand slid up from your waist to the side of your face, tilting your head up so your lips brushed against his. “c’mon,” he hissed, frustrated.

please, if this is how i die, i will kill myself. 

well, might as well embarrass yourself to death to get what you wanted. the ends justify the means, right?

“i mean,” you started, stammering and stumbling over your words before you could even string a sentence together, “i might like you. a little.”

“yeah?” suna chuckled in disbelief, as if he didn’t already know. he closed his eyes for a second, drawing a deep breath in. “almost made me lose it waitin’ for ya,” he laughed lightly, his cheeks glowing pink as he looked at you with such tenderness your insides were melting. 

well, you couldn’t say you were shocked – not with the way your best friend had drilled the fact that he was head over heels for you into your mind. but getting a confession, although indirect, from him did feel… pretty good. so good your heart was beating out of your ribcage. 

“i’ll kiss you now, okay?” suna murmured, leaning in close, his eyes zeroing on your parted mouth. basically giving you no choice but to nod your head yes, but he wasn’t taking your silence as an answer, hands slipping down to squeeze your waist. “hm?”

“okay,” you breathed out, stupidly wasting your precious oxygen. 

suna’s lips were soft. warm. a little chapped but you didn’t really mind it when they molded so perfectly against yours. tender at first, gentle and careful before deepening your kiss the slightest bit. just enough to have your head spinning and your fingers clinging onto him for dear life. your inexperience was obvious with the way you hesitated to move your own lips more than necessary, a little noise of surprise escaping you as he bit teasingly into your bottom lip. 

drawing back, suna didn’t utter a word, observing how your lipgloss had smeared around your mouth, the sparkles probably transferred to his own. 

“that was…” you muttered, giggling nervously. suna smiled, bumping his nose with yours affectionately. “yeah,” he whispered back.

warm hands squeezed your middle, pulling you close to him again and you wrapped your arms around his neck, melting into another dizzying kiss.

© mimi-sunny — all rights reserved

His chewing slows as he furrows his brow in contemplation. Swallowing, he slouches back in his seat and shrugs. “Force of habit, I guess. ‘Tsumu always stole my food if I wasn’t fast enough.”

“That makes sense,” you nod, though a nagging curiosity creeps into your head, accompanied by the urge to let it spill through your mouth. You wait for a beat before giving in to the feeling. Pressing your arms against the table, you lean forward.

“I have another question.”

Snorting, he fiddles with the little food that’s left on his plate. “Can I ask what compelled ya to analyze my eatin’ habits?”

Your eyes narrow, “‘Samu…”

“My bad,” he concedes, popping the last piece of onigiri into his mouth. “What’s the question?”

You pause, gesturing to the now-empty dish in front of him, “Have you noticed that you never rush through the food I cook for you?” Tilting your head, you add, “It’s only when we go out, or when you make stuff for yourself that you eat like this.”

Osamu doesn’t answer right away. He goes quiet for a moment, but he fills the silence by tapping his chopsticks against the table. Shifting languidly, he meets your expectant gaze and sighs, breaking the still. “I guess… it’s ‘cause I want the moment to last longer.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Y’know what I mean,” he replies, voice softening.

“I don’t.”

Groaning, he sets the utensils down to fork fingers through his hair. “Usually I’m the one that cooks, so when you do it—it’s special,” he explains, his lips parting slightly like he’s trying to find the right words to articulate an intricate thought. His eyes flicker down to his plate and back up to you. “I chew slower to show my appreciation. Sorta like how yer supposed to look at paintings in museums for a long time.”

Your chest pangs with surprise at his answer, and you raise your hand to inspect your now warm cheek. Gaping at him, slack-mouthed, his words echo through your head as silence stretches between the two of you once more. Despite being together for so long, Osamu’s words still could make you feel like you were floating.

When you finally speak, you can’t help but smile. “Are you comparing my cooking to a masterpiece?”

“No,” he quips, eyes twinkling with mirth, “That’d be offensive to artists.”

You gasp, “Rude!” But there’s no real feeling behind it. Giggling, you act on impulse and shove your half-finished plate of gyoza across the table towards him.

He hums, lips twisting upwards slightly. “What’re ya givin’ me this for?” His voice holds a fondness that makes you want to swoon.

“You’re cute. That’s why.”

Cocking his head at you, he smiles in appreciation. His nose is tinted pink from the steam that remains of your leftovers, and you find it unbelievably adorable. Chopsticks reaching to finish the food you had presented to him, he pauses to look up at you, catching your gaze once more.

“I think yer cuter.”

—a/n: picture me writing this and wailing in agony bcuz that’s exactly how it happened

Akaashi watches the sky meet the edge of the world, how it rolls its way back around in different hues of blue to match the time zones. He feels the hazy summer evenings drip against bare skin that make a failed attempt in washing away the thoughts of it all coming to an end; the closure of a book being neatly tucked away back onto a shelf, ready to be read again next year. He focuses on the sound of the radio, the way his fingers tap against the top of the steering wheel as he sways his head to the wired and tired early noughties ballad that he grew up listening to. That she’s also listening to, sitting next to him, knees tucked up to her chest in the passenger seat while she stares outside at the passing scenery on their endless summer road trip.

She remembers the way hands splayed across bare backs, the way his bitten lips pressed against the skin of her shoulder, the loose linen sheets pooling around their bodies. The way he made his way down to her wrist, kissing the soft skin and letting his lips linger on the tips of her fingers until he eagerly trailed all the way back up-up-up to a place where the world doesn’t know where he spends his time seeking refuge. A place reserved just for him – in her mouth, behind her teeth, a place where she willingly lets him in. A place where he steals the oxygen from her lungs, relishing in the way she gasps for air every single time he takes her breath away and selfishly puts it in a jar just for him.

Summer comes every year.

But a lover doesn’t.

The windows are rolled down, the sound of the wind whooshing through her ears, muffling the sound of the radio that dips in and out of the station, beginning to lose signal as they continue their drive through the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t care about that. The brushstrokes of the clouds meld into one another, a watercolour painting hung high that anyone in its presence would crane their necks upwards and gasp in awe at the once-in-a-lifetime sunset, a bespoke picture curated for that day only. She’s too busy looking down, playing with her fingers, the edge of her sleeve where her heart is supposed to be, once tucked away under lock and key but has now been stolen, the thief guiding the wheel of the car and her affection. The anxiety claws itself at the back of her throat, the uncertainty of this relationship plaguing her entire body as she battles with the idea of exclusivity from here until forever, or letting him stay temporarily in her heart, becoming a summer sojourn she’d look back on wistfully and wonder what could have been?

Akaashi continues to mouth the words of the next song which stutters the further they drive and she looks over at him, watching the way the words roll off his tongue so naturally – she vies for him to speak to her, about her, like that. When they would sit at petrol stations on off-beaten routes, bare feet burning into the asphalt with ice creams melting all over their hands as the sun relentlessly beat down on them. The same toes that would scrunch sand as they walked down the coast, running straight into the ocean where the water would lash at their ankles with force, soaking their skin in salt, both of them falling into step as they would make their way way back to the car. Every single day of those three months spent well in his Acura 91 being poured into a glass from a carton of milky memories that you would drink before you go to sleep if you wanted to sleep well.

Her misshapen heart stutters, begging to not be held, to be crushed into a pulp just as three times before. It’s been stitched countlessly, the irregular shaped atriums, bruised aorta and slacking sinews all fatigued with trying. Trying to feel loved, to be loved, to be a permanent fixture in someone else’s life instead of a fleeting summer romance to look back on nostalgically when going grey.

Just like that, the radio falls out of tune and the static is loud. Overwhelming. A silence that returns and is thicker, with a cloying texture, than the dense humid heat from days before. It tastes bittersweet when she opens her mouth to let in a sharp inhale, to say a few words to shatter the quiet, something that ceased to exist earlier in the trip as they would always be fumbling with their laughter, finding ways to whisper sweet somethings, yelling until their voices went hoarse. The climb to summer’s apex was what sparked joy, inspiration and something to look forward to. Now on the descent, where the leaves are beginning to shift into russets and browns and ochres, the days are getting shorter, cooler, it made them both realise they were wearing rose tinted glasses for the first half and it’s now time to take them off and face a crushing, despondent reality.

Her crown presses against the headrest, eyes softening as she gazes through the windscreen to stare at the sky, a desire to lean forward to touch the swirling softness of the clouds, wondering if she plunges her hand through the ether’s fabric, will it ripple and warp or will she find the letter she wrote for him to read, to grant her the wish she craved for since she realised she was falling into deep waters, plunging straight off the cliffside into charted territory because she’s been dunked in that water before (three times before). This time she doesn’t want to come out soaking, with a bruised ego and a battered heart.

Akaashi feels her staring at him, his heart stuttering at her gaze, imaging those eyes boring straight through to his soul. He steels himself, pushing a tidal wave of tepid water into her direction, which crashes into her and deepens her frown. She studies the ink-coloured tendrils and how they curl across his perspiring forehead, the way his jaw tightens more the longer she stares, him constantly nibbling at his lips and picking at the dry skin because he hasn’t drank enough water. He gives up, he can’t do it anymore and he slows the car down enough so he can turn to look at her, his eyes softening when he meets hers.

A man once renowned for his eloquence no longer has any words left in his mouth, but his eyes do all the talking, ready to spill all of his secrets, display it all out in the open for her to hear his own personal letter, let the world know how he longs for a home that he’s unsure was his to begin with. The word hiraeth starts blaring in his head, the only thing his brain can pluck out of his mental dictionary and the feeling settles deeper. A melancholic ache thrums throughout him and he has to snap his head forward to keep his eyes on the road, ignoring the hyperawareness of a crushing absence.

“Do you like driving in silence?” The first words said since he turned on the engine.

Akaashi quickly glances over at her, then back onto the quiet road. “Um. Sometimes. Today’s one of those days, I guess.”

“What are you thinking about?”

His heart lurches. Busted, it sings up at him, snickering. “I guess just how much fun I’ve had with you this summer. Being able to enjoy one last long summer before we graduate university and get thrusted into adulthood. What about you?”

With her eyes glimmering underneath the sunset’s glow, she hums, lightly shaking the world with the soft vibrations of her voice and shifting the seasons along – it suddenly feels like the start of summer again. An opportunity for a retry, one more time. A chance to do it right.

“Well?” he verbally nudges.

“I’m trying to word it.” She huffs. A pause, a beat, a tick-tick-ticking because they don’t have forever. She lands on: “The memories I’d like to keep with me from these last few months.”

“What’s been your favourite?”

“Learning how to finally change a tyre on my own.”

Akaashi guffaws, which elicits a scintillating laugh from her mouth, eyes turning into crescents. “That’s what you like the most about this trip? Alright then, what’s your least favourite thing?”

“That god awful bed and breakfast we stayed in where we didn’t even make it to breakfast, the one with the stains on the covers and the dead something stuck in the shower drain. God.” She scrunches her nose at the memory, immediately locking it up in the back of her mind because it’s an experience she does not want to remember.

They sit in silence for a few minutes while Akaashi pays attention to the navigation on his phone, working through the convoluted country roads that are sign posted for two lanes of traffic but, let’s be real here, how on god’s green earth can you expect to drive down these tight country roads and expect to pull into an invisible lay-by to let oncoming traffic through? Finally, Akaashi is out of the fray and he lets out a sigh of relief, not wanting to think about the scratches littering the outside of his precious Acura that had to dive straight into some hedges when a tractor began to barrel down the road, no warning until the last minute of switching on their headlights. It made Akaashi realise that the sun has dipped beyond the horizon, the stars making their show-stopping appearance and that they are both reaching closer to their trip’s expiration date.

“What was your favourite thing this trip?” she asks, picking her moment well as Akaashi is now on paved road with a central reservation.

“When we had dinner together at that tiny little hole-in-the-wall restaurant when passing through one of the villages. I wanted to plan something a little nicer, more formal, when we got to a bigger town, but that just felt right – sitting on the curb together eating our food out of the little containers, watching the people in the pub opposite go in and out.”

“That was such a good place. I am going to miss their food so much.” She sighs dreamily. “Alright then, to ask you the same question, what has been your least favourite thing on the trip?”

Does he go with his brain or gut on this one? Because his brain is saying to mention when he got stung on the outside of his forearm by a jellyfish. He was crying out in pain, she was yelling about how piss will help and he had to try and shut her up, all the while screaming between wailing in pain, to tell her that was fake news and he had to just rinse it off in seawater and run it under a warm tap. That was the worst thing he could think of, the sting now a faint scar, a tinge of pink and resulting in a permanent reminder that will eventually fade away with time, learning to blend in with the surrounding tissue so it doesn’t stand loud and proud.

But his heart? His heart takes the lead in this and he sighs, parting his lips to start speaking. Now or never, and he doesn’t want it to be the latter. “The worst thing about this trip is wondering if we’ll go back to being distant friends after this. And I don’t want that, not one bit.” Akaashi shakes his head.

He doesn’t want to be ships passing by no longer, to see her in the library on her own and make awkward small talk, not after the way they learnt about each other over the course of the summer. How he desperately kissed her, wanted her, craved her more and more with each passing moment that it felt like agony when she would part from his side for a few brief moments. He wants it all – the tender touches, the soft looks, the staying up until midnight playing cards, the regular domesticity of university dorm life, the going to her flat and sitting on her bed watching lame romcoms and ordering greasy takeout. He wants to meet up with her after work to walk her home, to cradle her head in his hands as he kisses her goodnight, to feel her press against him, gentle yet desperate for his kiss, beckoning him to come inside.

He isn’t in it for a round-the-corner trip, he wants to enjoy the long, winding journey with her.

Waiting with bated breath, grip tighter on the steering wheel, he can feel himself dizzying after his confession. God god god god what did I say. Should have stuck with jellyfish.

Suddenly there’s a noise, so quiet, but it carries itself straight to his ears, her breathy whisper closing the gap between them and blowing away the thick cloud of awkward silence. “I feel the same way.”

Akaashi can’t stop smiling. He’s grinning from ear to ear and all she can think about is how the stars dazzle even brighter tonight so the night can see him smile. She rests her elbow on the window ledge, hiding her smile into the sleeve of her sweatshirt, her misshapen, battered and bruised heart no longer stolen but taken, handled with care and sincerity. Being nursed back to health as she imagines curling up next to him and smelling his laundry detergent of choice dusting across his sheets, sitting across from him at a cafe and feeling the pad of his thumb brush across her knuckles as they both turn the pages of their books in silence, a quiet that isn’t awkward or confusing or begging to be addressed but comfortable, known, full of so much love.

The stars above dance and twirl, holding onto the letters both of them intended to give to the sky but they ended up falling from the heavens into the right person’s hands.

fun facts:

the road trip idea was atsumu's idea – he encouraged his university accommodation roomates aka bokuto and yn to join him for a summer of shitball fun!!! (his words)

he then realised he didn't have a car, bokuto said akaashi does, so it was back on with an extra person – hooray, the more the merrier!

akaashi was happy to join on the trip, second year burnt him out too much and he wanted to remember what it was like to live with no responsibilities one last time

until, a week away from the trip, when both atsumu and bokuto forgot they had summer volleyball training

so yn and akaashi just decided to do it anyway as they quit their summer jobs and thought it a nice way to get to know each other

“[Last Name], what’s the answer to Question B?” 

Blatantly ignoring the screams of “oh shit” droning on in your head as a resultant of your teachers words, you flick your gaze down at your textbook. The pages are slightly crinkled, little marks indicating where your pen pressed down too hard. 

“Twenty-eight,” you reply in the smoothest tone you can muster, reading the scribbly drawl of your handwriting aloud.

“Correct,” she hums, flipping off the whiteboard pen with a dull click. 

You lull your head on the palm of your hand. In all honesty, you’re mostly just being dramatic. Neither you or Karasu are bitter or anything, you personally just hold an immense disdain to growing up and apart. Whether that is limited to the said boy is something you don’t currently know, or ever intend to, really. 

A small huff escapes from beneath your breath, so faint that you yourself barely manage to hear it. Pondering never does seem to do any good, not when you’re like this anyway. 

A couple more questions and answers sprout within the room as your musings begin to tug on their own curtains. 

The sharp ringing of the bell pierces throughout the school, signifying the long due arrival of break. Only a few seconds pass before the sound is replaced by an eruption of shoes squeaking against the floorboards and scraping of chairs as they slide into their designated spots beneath the desks. 

“Make sure you do Chapter Thirteen everyone,” your teacher calls out to the class, meeting a few words of acceptance and several exasperated groans. The room trickles into emptiness as you take your time packing up, finger twitching mildly as you pull the zip of your bag closed. 

Miriku leans against your desk slightly when she steps over, a smile spread across her lips. “You were staring at Karasu when he walked past.” 

“Huh? No, I wasn’t,” you deny, moreso trying to defend yourself from whatever implications the statement had than the action itself. 

“Liar,” she hums. “What’s up with you and him anyway.” 

“Nothing. I was just surprised, I guess. I’ve been seeing him around a lot recently,” you say honestly, hanging your bag over your shoulder. It brushes against your uniform softly. 

“Noticing …” she muses. 

You jab her playfully in the arm as a response, “Let’s just go, I don’t really wanna stay in this classroom any longer.”

She smirks at your swift change of subject, slinging her arm around you as you both walk out the class, “If you say so then.” You don’t react to the motion, plenty used to her tactile affection. “I do say so.” 

“Anyway,” she began, “Sora said she’d meet us at the rooftop a little late.” 

“Hm, how come?” 

“Something about organising an event with her teacher.”

You blink. “Oh, right. She did mention that.” 

“Mhm.” 

The two of you make your way down the stairs, chattering about idle topics as you weave through the mob of students. The buzz of their conversations blend with yours, causing some words to be lost in translation. 

“Blending greens?” 

“Huh? How’d you get that,” she laughed, the sound coming out like distant bell chimes. “I said I’m gonna buy something from the vending machine. Want anything?” 

“Eh, I’m alright for today.” You paused in thought, a few people brushing past, “I’ll wait by the wall over there since it’s kinda crowded here.” 

“Okay,” she replies before bounding over towards the machine. Its effulgent light illuminates the space ahead of it, spurring a gentle glow to dance over the small cluster of students there. You observe for a moment before stepping in the opposite direction. 

You aren’t too sure what has caused a horde inside, but from the disgruntled complaints you’ve picked up on, it appears to just be the seemingly dull cloudy weather. It’s apparent that this summer has been nothing short of gloom, with glum tufts of clouds constantly wading throughout the sky and prohibiting the sun to shine its radiance upon the land. Frankly though, the matters of the weather have never really bothered you. Save for the rain. 

Your body stiffens the mildest bit as you glance across the wall, spotting an all so exasperated Karasu stare into one of the classrooms with someone else's bag sitting in his hand. You recognise it to be Otoya’s distinctly green one. 

“Hi Karasu,” you greet, eyes drifting away as you lean on the wall beside him. Miriku was now chatting to someone by the vending machine, it was hard to tell whether it was intentional that she was leaving you here momentarily. 

“Hey,” he responded in a lacksidal tone, glancing at you briefly. 

“How’ve you been?” you ask after a long moment.  

“Yeah, good,” he replies. “You?” 

“Fine,” you mutter beneath your breath. You wonder if the word even meets Karasu’s ears. Your gaze flicks over towards him, and for some reason, you begin to feel like every so-called frequent illusion has been nothing but a cover for something you refrain from addressing. 

He sends you a sidelong glance, the blues of his eyes stirring with uncertainty under the weight of your stare.

“Is something bothering you? Ya seem a little off.” 

—

“Is something bothering you? Ya seem a little off,” he asked. 

“Just, didn’t do so well on a test,” you admitted in response, throwing your sweater on carelessly. “You’ve also been acting kinda off anyway.” 

“Hm? You think so?” 

“Yeah, it feels like you’ve been avoiding me a little,” you trail off into a murmur, mild embarrassment playing over your expression. Fortunately, the cloth you shimmy on conceals it, but you still feel the heat creeping along your neck. 

“Oh,” he hummed, a small grin breaking across his lips. “So you’ve missed me?” 

“Hey, don’t twist my words,” you replied, adjusting the jumper as it hugs around your torso.

He chuckled softly before fading into a quiet sincerity, “Sorry, I haven’t been meaning to or anything.” The moment swells. “Soccer has just kept me busy ‘nd stuff,” he added vaguely. 

“Nah, it’s fine.” The leaves crunched as you shifted on your feet, the sound blending into the trees' agitation. A playful smile formed on your face. “Though, I suppose a good compensation would be if you bought me something from the vending machine,” you suggest in faux contemplation, scratching your chin to emphasise the point. 

He let out a huff of amusement, “I suppose so. What d’ya want to buy?” 

“Yakult, obviously,” you said.

—

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me,” you answer easily.

He blinks at you, mumbling a weak word of compliance. He wonders if you know how weirdly difficult it is for him to do; to not think of you.

As you peel yourself away from the wall slowly, you take a discreet glance at him. Sunlight streams in from behind, casting a tender glow across his expression, one entirely incoherent to you now. The light traces along his fine cutting features, and you can only really think about how different he seems to be from a couple years ago. A difference that goes beyond physical appearance and how he carries himself, but not one you could really explain. You imagine that he probably feels the exact same way about you. Something strange, twinged with SORROW twists in the center of your heart at that prospect. Like a needle too precise to ever extract. 

Your eyes flit to the window behind him momentarily. A flash of black goes by, the shape indicating a single crow flying past. You have an inexplicable suspicion that that, too, may become something you start noticing quite frequently in your mind. “See you, Karasu,” you eventually say, walking off to Miriku as her own conversation draws to an end.

“See ya,” he returns, gaze flicking away from your receding figure instinctively. Otoya still seems to be chatting up that girl in the classroom. 

Moments such as these are ones that, unbeknownst to each other, you both actively avoid dwelling too far on. It isn’t as if there is much to think about anyway, for, they simply are what they are. (So it goes.)

ada: kunikida (wc 767)

it’s been almost eight hours of torture and you’re not even close to being finished with the mountain of work this stupid sack of bandages and bones has let pile up. it’s been especially bad this month, he usually tries to keep up the first week or so but from the looks of it, with this month that wasn’t the case. the worst part of it all? you don’t even get to leave the office until the brunette has all of his backed up work completed and at the rate you’re going you’ll both be here for the rest of the week. you wish you were exaggerating but you don’t think you are. last month atsushi was stuck in the office for a full 32 hours. the poor boy didn’t speak to dazai for almost a week after that, having had his fill for a lifetime.

your eye is twitching and your head is throbbing. you’ve been stuck next to dazai for almost eight whole hours due to having literally drawn the short straw. each month all the detectives, excluding ranpo since he’s just as bad, draw straws to help dazai catch up on his neglected paperwork and unfortunately this month was your turn. 

you let out another long sigh, at this rate you’ll pass out from the breathing exercises before you finish all of this work. your glasses are propped low on your nose, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of it in irritation. dazai is currently humming his double suicide song and leaning dangerously far back in his desk chair. 

just as an idea stampedes across your mind, kunikida, not even looking up from his laptop, speaks up. “if you keep leaning back in that chair, you rock-for-brains, you’re going to fall and hit your head. god knows you don’t need to take any more damage to that screwy brain of yours.”

you can’t help but to let out a snort as you look over to see obvious offense on the brunette's face. it’s rare that kunikida’s outlandish comments towards dazai surprise you anymore, but it’s almost as if the blonde had read your mind. you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling further when dazai gives you an accusatory glance before directing his attention back to the senior detective.

“awww are you worried about me, kunikida-kun? that’s so sweet of you. i’m not clumsy enough to fall from leaning back in my chair like this though. i’ve mastered the art!” as if to demonstrate, dazai leans way back, far more dangerously than he had previous to this conversation. 

without thinking you lean over and push on dazai’s chair, knowing the only result being him tumbling to the floor. “oh, have you now.”

in the split second before his demise, the brunette looks at you with an expression of utter betrayal. it’s like it happens in slow motion, you watch the betrayal flash into horror and then finally acceptance settles in his features as the back of his chair hits the ground and dazai clashes with the floor. a loud crash resounds across the office and everyone is too stunned to move let alone make a noise. not even a moment later dazai is groaning and lets out a pathetic whine. 

before he can open his mouth to complain verbally you’re both startle by a loud chortle coming from behind you. your eyes widen at the foreign noise falling from the usually stoic or angry blonde. you watch in wonder as his lips are stretched into a rare smile and his flushed cheeks display deep crevices. they’re dimples, you’ve never seen kunikida smile this widely, so you’ve never noticed them until now. something in your stomach flutters at the sight and you can’t help but to smile at him in astonishment. 

when kunikida settles down, clutching his stomach, he’s still smiling as he removes his glasses and wipes the tears from his eyes. as he places the metal frames back on his face his gaze seeks you out and when it settles on you his face is one of shock to find you already staring at him in amazement. you watch him closely, scrutinizing his expressions to see if you really never noticed the signs of dimples decorating his cheeks before. 

kunikida clears his throat awkwardly and composes himself. “what is it?”

you let out an airy laugh and shake your head while offering him a reassuring smile. “it’s nothing really…i just never noticed before, kunikida, but you have dimples. you should smile more often, they suit you.”

pm: chuuya (wc: 1.1k)

you hardly ever drink, if at all. the most you’ll have in a sitting is a glass of whatever’s offered to you. you usually sip at it slowly, nursing that one drink for the rest of the night. 

…but tonight…

tonight is certainly different. you’re celebrating the close defeat of fyodor and the decay of angels with the armed detective agency of all people. the surprising collaboration had bonded so many of your people together that it was only right to celebrate as one. the defeat was, after all, all of yours. 

despite the celebratory mood, you currently find yourself in a predicament. as one of the port mafia’s physicians it’s easy to fly under the radar at an event much like this one, but the ada’s doctor took a special liking to you and has been feeding you shot after shot of saki to shoot with her. at this rate, you won’t even be able to see straight enough to hook yourself up to an iv before passing out after this. you don’t even want to know what kind of headache you’ll have in the morning if you can’t stay hydrated.

you need to find a reason to excuse yourself before you’re roped into taking your sixth shot of the night. 

you scan the vicinity, everything blurring at the edges. your eyes zero in on the one person you’ve actually wanted to speak to all night. you haven’t seen him since he came back from europe. you missed him. the thought makes you cringe internally at the involuntary thought. you wonder how much you look like a love sick puppy because suddenly yosano is leaning in and whispering, very indiscreetly might you add.

“oho! am i keeping you from a special someone? go on, i can find another drinking buddy…” the woman doesn’t even give you a chance before she’s waving the bottle of saki and zeroing in on the blonde with glasses whose name you never bothered to learn. “kunikida! come here!”

you take a breath and try your best not to stumble over to where the ginger is observing something to his left, clearly amused. when you get about 3 meters from him, his head snaps over to you and his small smile stretches into a bigger fond one. his eyes soften and he reaches out to steady you.

god, you almost forgot how truly gorgeous this man is.

“looks like you had too much fun with the agency’s doctor there.” the second his smile widens you’re a goner, your mind becomes even more foggy and your legs wobbly.

you smile proudly at chuuya and you think you must look ridiculous because he lets out a chuckle that puts his single dimple on full display. “were you keeping tabs on me, chuuya nakahara?”

your words are a little slurred, even though it’s not very noticeable, they still come out more jumbled than you previously thought they would. if you had the decency you’d flinch at it but your inhibitions are a little scarce right now. you don’t even have the decency to feel embarrassed. 

what’s even worse is chuuya catches the way your eyes scan his figure, gaze lingering on features that should be left for a private setting. you’re absolutely shameless and you’re not even that inebriated. your ogling is put to an end when your eyes meet his own again. his grin wide and smug. 

once again, you’re consumed by how stunning he is.

“i was…been waiting all night for that doctor to leave you alone. it’s been a while, doll. how’ve you been?” chuuya reaches out to straighten your hair by tucking your loose strands behind your hair, you don’t miss the way he lets his hand linger before pulling away and letting his arm drop back to his side.

you hum contentedly and shrug. “i’ve been overworked and worried. but…i’m glad it’s finally over and you’re back. i’m glad you’re safe.”

trying to change the subject, you hone in on the small indent that’s settled on his face from smiling so much and chuuya gives you a confused look but he doesn’t question you just yet. 

“y’know, you only have one dimple and i think,” you reach up and poke at the small crater in his cheek. “it’s the cutest thing ever.”

a fit of giggles falls from your lips and chuuya swears that somehow between when you walked over and now you had time to sneak in stealing his heart. something in his stomach flutters and his hands twitch, begging to hold onto you. chuuya tilts his head back, effectively making your hand fall from his face and downs the rest of his wine.

you watch in amusement, enjoying the way your words have clearly affected him. maybe drinking as much as you did wasn’t such a bad idea after all. you never would have said something like that to the world’s strongest ability user otherwise. you’ve harbored affection for the ginger since doc, your mentor, was still alive. you can practically hear albatross in your ear, teasing you for your, at the time, small crush. 

you’re brought out of your melancholy thoughts when chuuya’s gloved hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls you into him. you stumble and fall into the gravity manipulator. you let out a noise of complaint, ready to voice your qualms but it all dies on your tongue as it goes dry when you notice the tantalizing look on chuuya’s face.

“you’re callin’ me cute? you?” chuuya leans in, he’s so close you can smell the faint scent of wine and cigarettes on his breath.

you swallow thickly and look away, face now flushed from more than just the alcohol. “what d’you mean by that…”

the ginger leans in impossibly closer, his lips now brushing yours but before he can even say anything, an airy and teasing voice is calling out for the executive. 

“chuuya! i’ve been looking all over for you, don’t tell me you were avoiding me? and here i thought we had patched things up back at the prison.”

chuuya’s brown eye twitches as his head turns to find a tall brunette with a simpering smile. it takes you a moment but you realize this is someone you know, someone who you haven’t seen or heard from since you were 18, dazai osamu. you aren’t exactly in the mood for a reunion, your face still flushing from what just transpired between you and the executive.

you try to escape but chuuya’s grip on your wrist only tightens. a clear nonverbal for you to stay put. despite suddenly feeling stone cold sober, you have a sneaky feeling you’re still going to be missing that iv tonight.

guild: mark twain (wc: 738)

this standstill is agonizing, you’re so bored. you’ve been stuck on the moby dick for what seems like ages and yet you still haven’t been given an assignment by francis. you feel useless, like you’ve just been twiddling your thumbs — hell, even poe has had a role to play in all of this. 

it’s so incredibly frustrating.

you sit on the floor of the sunroom, you thought basking in the sunlight might help your mood. you thought wrong. you’ve been sulking for the last hour, maybe longer, just huffing and puffing as if someone was there. you let out another sigh and dramatically flop to the ground and onto your back as you hear someone approaching. 

you look up to find a pair of sandal clad feet far too close to your face for comfort. you grimace and quickly sit back up to get away from the offending appendages. you previously had wanted some company, at least then it would be less agonizing. but you’re filled with dread when you decide your mood is far too sour to be entertaining anyone at the moment. 

you glare at the ginger looming over you.

“get those dogs away from me.” you cross your legs and your face twists further in annoyance when you’re met with an amused expression.

a chuckle falls from his lips as he plops himself on the floor next to you. “someone’s in a cheery mood today.”

you roll your eyes and contemplate ignoring the young man altogether. of course you’re in a shit mood, you’re bored, you’ve been bored since you got to japan. you’re not even allowed to explore the area. you tried sneaking out but that damn priest caught you and tattled. you almost lose your temper just thinking about it.

“hey,” your internal rage is halted by mark trying to capture your attention. “where’d ya go just now?”

you let out a groan and flop back onto the floor. usually mark has a knack for fishing you out of your own thoughts but you don’t think even he can help today. you’d asked permission again to go explore and once again francis denied you. you feel like a bird, caged in, wings clipped so you’re unable to fly. being cooped up like this is driving you insane and you think mark can sense it because he stops pressing and lays down with you. 

you both lay in silence for a bit and your tense muscles finally begin to relax. maybe this wasn’t so bad, basking in the sun alone was sad, but having someone to do it with…it’s nice. you’ve suddenly forgotten why you were so worked up.

the peaceful moment only lasts a few moments. a familiar and mischievous voice rings close to your ear and you start. “he’s been worried about ya, y’know?”

“tom?!” both you and the ginger cry out in unison.

you sit up and look over at mark incredulously. he’s never accidentally activated the boys before, his control always being pretty impressive actually. your lips part slightly as you notice the embarrassed pout that stretches his lips down. the frown bringing out the dimples on his cheeks, making them far more apparent than they are when he smiles. 

it takes a moment but tom’s words sink in, when they do you let out a snort that has mark giving you a mortified look. tom is perched on your shoulder, snickering along with you. mark glares at the small apparition and releases his ability cutting off his snickering. 

you look over to mark with a smug grin. “so, you’ve been worried about me, huh?”

you let out a chuckle as the ginger groans. suddenly your sour mood melts away and you’re left with a sweet aftertaste. your grin is wide and reaches your eyes, making them crinkle at the edges. your chest feels lighter, a weight that’s been sitting in your rib cage since departing the states finally being relieved and you have mark twain to thank for that. you watch as his frown stays clearly plastered on his features. you shake your head at him.

“ah, c’mon, mark. y’know i’m only teasing you. although i should do it more often, that frown brings out those adorable dimples of yours even more than a smile does…”

mark offers you an offended side eye but he can’t hide the blush that dusts the apple of his cheeks at your words.

hunting dogs: tachihara (wc 1k) 

“tecchou could be charming… if it weren’t for his strange…quirks.” you snicker at jouno’s quip, never missing the chance to insult the brunette. 

you hum, a smirk stretching at your lips. “okay, mr. ‘i like to piss people off for fun’, you’re just as bad.”

the blind man turns his head towards your voice and scowls in your direction. your smile widens, pleased with ticking him off. playing his game better than him is always so exhilarating. jouno always gives you some of the best reactions . 

your captain belts out a hearty laugh. the older man himself had started this conversation. apparently he’d been shot down and came into your meeting room with his ears drooped and tail between his legs. charm. that is the subject at hand, which of you have the most charm. it started with fukuchi insisting on his “boyish charm” despite his age. the man is clearly in denial but trying to convince him of that is pointless, you would know, you’ve tried. 

jouno hisses, “as if you’re any better.”

“i am. why do you think i’m the member fukuchi sends out for negotiations, my dear jouno?” you snicker when the pale man turns his nose up at you and clicks his tongue, knowing you’d won.

it’s been a while since all of you had been summoned together. despite the bickering you’re excited to see your colleagues altogether in one room. you’re especially giddy to see a certain redhead who’s been undercover with the port mafia for almost 2 years now. you’ve missed 2 of his birthdays, he must look older now. you wonder just how much the young man has grown since the last time you saw him — as a boy. you were still young too, you still are, younger than him at the very least. not by much of course but it’s enough to make you the second youngest member of the hunting dogs. 

the last time you saw tachihara, the two of you fought. you begged him, pleaded with him to not take the assignment with the port mafia. it was dangerous and you knew about his personal grudge against its leader. but he didn’t listen, he made a promise to you, though. he promised to come back to you in one piece. 

you impatiently wait to see if he kept his promise. 

you’re pulled out of your thoughts by fukuchi. “ah, we almost forgot about the other two. what do you think of teruko.”

you and jouno share a look. teruko has never been the most agreeable…and that’s putting it lightly. her attitude is arrogant at best. sure, when she loves, she loves with her entire being but that’s a rare instance and it takes time to get there with the girl.

“why don’t we skip over her and move on to tachihara…” jouno looks almost pained at having to avoid the topic altogether.

luckily you’re both saved by the meeting room door opening and 3 other figures walking in. you sit up straight, watching as tecchou strides in first. your breath hitches when a smaller figure walks in with another larger one. you can feel the look jouno is casting your way, knowing well he felt the way your heartbeat began to race, the way your breath caught in your throat, and the way you tremble with nerves. 

you were right. he does look older, but most importantly he still looks just as handsome. maybe even more so than before. you also notice he’s grown into his uniform, unlike the baggy uniform he wore the last time you saw him, this one fits him perfectly.

instead of greeting everyone else (you suppose this wasn’t the first meeting he’s had with the rest since infiltrating the port mafia) tachihara dives right into the conversation you were having previously.

“what about me?”

you don’t miss the way the ginger’s eyes scan the room and light up the second they meet your own and you don’t miss the way he makes a beeline for the empty seat next to you. “our captain here, believes that he still has a boyish charm about him…”

“...ah…uh huh… so old age has made the geezer delusional then?” tachihara grins proudly at you, a dimpled smile on full display, as he claims the empty seat as his own.

you let out a bubbly giggle, unable to contain yourself and nod. “i’m afraid so!”

“hey!” the older man whines in a way that’s reminiscent of teruko. “i am not old.”

jouno and tecchou chime in while teruko and your captain argue against why you’re all wrong. you watch them all with a fond smile and a warmth in your chest. you’ve missed this, missed them all. having michizo next to you made it all feel complete, like you’re whole again.

the ginger leans in cautiously, watching for any hesitation on your part, but he won’t find any. “what about you? what do you think? am i charming?”

you study his face for a moment, all the previously soft edges of his face have smoothed out, only leaving sharp features. even his eyes are far more calculating than they were before he left. one thing that hasn’t changed though, his boyish smile. the indents in his cheeks give way to his young age. for once you're happy to see that some things never change. 

apparently, your conversation wasn’t a private one as fukuchi chimes in. “it pains me to say but you have the most boyish charm out of all of us, even greater than mine - but only by a little.”

you chuckle at the stubborn man’s words and tachihara follows suit. the soft rumbled noise he makes is deeper and that’s when you realize, it’s not just his laugh that’s gotten deeper — his voice has a certain gruffness it didn’t have before. it’s subtle but it’s soothing, much like a lullaby.

you wink at the ginger and respond in a teasing tone, “fukuchi is right, tachihara, your boyish charm could get you out of all sorts of trouble. it’s definitely those cute dimples of yours.” 

doa: nikolai (wc: 837)

you don’t even remember what you just said. or where you are. or what you two are even doing here. all you know is that nikolai is sitting in front of you laughing like a madman. it’s not one of his usual forced cackles, no, this one is possibly the first genuine laugh you’ve seen from him. his real laugh is far lighter than the crackled and loud noises that slip past his lips when he plays his little games. you find yourself trying to memorize the sound, much preferring this laugh to the previously mentioned one.

his face is relaxed too. the twisted grin he usually wears has melted away into a bright smile that reaches his cheeks, making the most stunning little indents in them. nikolai truly is gorgeous and you find yourself thinking he’s even more beautiful when he lets himself relax. his uncovered eye sparkles as he wipes away the tears that built up from his fit of laughter. 

you’ve always thought that nikolai himself is just beautiful in general but when he’s like this? you can’t help but to stare.

and of course, the clown notices. “whatcha staring at, chickadee?” 

it’s teasing, a lilt in his voice that’s just a little too cheery. your attention, which was previously zeroed in on nikolai’s isolated features, focuses out and onto him as a whole. his head is tilted to the side, staring at you curiously.

you’re suddenly acutely aware of the fond smile that’s plastered on your face. you gather your bearings and turn that smile into a frown, crossing your arms across your chest, you stubbornly look away. you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“nothing.” your voice comes out deadpanned. 

nikolai prances his way over to you, standing on his toes and leaning in. you swear he has no sense of personal space, you doubt he even knows the meaning of it. your lips immediately curl up in discomfort and you lean away from him, trying to create as much distance as possible without actually stepping back. your attempts are futile, though, his tall stature and freakishly good balance allows him to follow you. 

the white haired clown lets out a snort. “ah, come on, that answer’s no fun!”

“it wasn’t s’posed to be, gogol.” your expression is uninterested but internally you aren’t as confident in your ability to keep your composure. 

nikolai dramatically pouts at you and straightens back up, doing a little twirl that you think is quite ridiculous. but that’s nikolai, ridiculous and unabashed. you straighten up too and watch him wearily. his sheer amount of energy seems to drain your own, sucking the life out of you the longer you’re around him. his eccentricity is something that you’re still not accustomed to.

nikolai perks up and you almost wince knowing you’re not going to like whatever thought it is that just lit him up like a lightbulb. 

“let’s play a game then!” you can’t help the way you eye him suspiciously. “we each tell the other our favorite things about the other. we’ll start with favorite feature!”

“no.”

“yes!” 

your eye twitches at how quick he is to reject your refusal. the twitching intensifies when he starts humming the jeopardy theme and prancing around you, clearly waiting for your approval. you decide you’re gonna be bullheaded on this one — or, at the very least, try to be.

“absolutely not.”

nikolai let’s out a foul buzzer noise “absolutely! c’mon. i’ll go first-”

“nikolai. no.”  

there’s now a dull pounding in your head and you’re starting to think that maybe conceding is the best option to get him to stop.

“nikolai. yes!” his grin is wide and you can tell he’s caught on to your waning perseverance.

you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, a sign of you accepting defeat. “if i tell you, will you stop bouncing around like that and calm down?”

“cross my heart and hope to die!” his tone is cheery, sing-song and light. 

you know — you know — you’re going to regret this later but you could care less at this particular moment. anything to give you a sliver of peace. 

“fine…your dimples, they’re my favorite feature of yours, they’re…mesmerizing…”

you look away embarrassed at the admission, missing the way nikolais face softens for a moment. then he winds up again, like a toy soldier that just had its key turned to the max. he’s moving around you with twice the amount of gusto as he was before his promise, practically vibrating. you scowl at him, displeased.

“you promised you would knock that off, you clown.”

the said clown gives you a pleased grin and sings out again. “i lied!”

you cannot believe you let him trick you like that, your ire making your skin crawl. or maybe that’s your embarrassment prickling at your skin and making it flush. you try not to let your mind linger on it too much as you let a response fly out of your mouth.