#hioku

—— hinata can’t be serious. if there is any self-respecting god above, then there’s no way that hinata is actually asking. except . . . it’s hinata. which means

tsukishima can assume nothing.

he stares at his teammate; his teammate stares back. tsukishima stares at his teammate; his teammate stares back. on & on & on this seems to go. tsukishima is reluctant to admit that he’s the one that cracks first. he looks away, focuses on an empty corner of the bleachers, & fusses absently with the strap of his sports goggles. 

tsukishima feels: when you study hinata long enough ( & maintain eye contact . . . ), then hinata starts to look sharper / sharper / shaper. as though he gains strength by staring, as though he’s starting to know your weaknesses. 

. . . it’s a stupid feeling. it’s one that tuskishima can’t shake.

& even though tsukishima breaks first, he got his answer. hinata is only partly kidding. he’s torturing tsukishima ( pointedly ) by calling him buddy & simultaneously asking a very serious question. 

‘ to the bathroom ? we’re not eight, you’re just asking because idiot number two over there - ‘ aka kageyama ‘ already said no, & probably because — ‘

because hinata had overheard tsukishima mention to yamaguchi that he would be right back. 

‘ & before you say anything, yes — i know you’re cursed with bathrooms or something. not only because your gut is apparently always throwing a tantrum because you’re annoying, but also you keep . . . making conversation with people there. just because i’m taller than you & don’t sound like i’m a pipsqueak doesn’t mean i’m going to save you from that. ‘ 

tsukishima rolls his eyes & still ? he nudges hinata’s shoulder forward. if he wants a bathroom buddy, he better come now.

this is so embarrassing. 

okay hear me out hear me out. rocket doesn’t know this . . . but we were fated to be. it’s a secret though. keep it between you, me, & rocket.

so on a personal note, i don’t really remember a whole lot about why i previously left tumblr when i did besides the fact that i lose track of time & have memory. but because of that, i had drafts from last year in my drafts until… probably last week ngl. which means … i had rocket’s drafts saved for a year. & every time i’d read it about to delete it? i deadass couldn’t because it still made me laugh. for me, rocket is one of those tumblr rpers you get a lowkey crush on because you’re sitting there like damn!! you’re making my brainrot & clownself sing! which is honestly so so amazing because that means that you’re out there feeling comfortable with yourself and genuinely out there to have a good time.

as a writer, rocket has the power to do this! i truly have to stop and read everytime i see a post from hioku that i see because she has such an amazing ability to depict 1) body language so viscerally and honestly that you know exactly what the vibe is. she doesn’t even do it in a way where it’s a step by step sequence of what a character does —- it’s images, an allegories, and similes that tell you about what is happening while also singing odes to character tone. 2) dialogue!!! i used to hear that good acting is the ability to react. rocket has the power to write conversations with momentum that really make the reader and you react. f in the chat!!

and beyond that, writing with rocket makes developing so easy. it feels so easy to build off thoughts & ideas that were mentioned in passing and really make a world out of a verse. rocket, i’d call that charisma.

but to conclude, i do have to say that i swear to god i have so much fun talking to rocket in general. only people who have worked in childcare know the battles of dirty diapers and too many children at one time sdf i have so much love and wow a kindred spirit.

please!! go follow @hioku to feel your soul heal!

iii. lay in blue

the first time that it happened seriously, tsukishima wasn’t really sure it was happening at all. he was fourteen. it was winter; it was cold & stupidly wet & tsukishima had bronchitis. confirmed bronchitis — his mother worked at a clinic & had a god-tier immunity . . . but she managed to bring home bugs / viruses / whatever. so tsukishima had bronchitis & felt trashy with congestion & coughing that rattled the walls —- he wasn’t tired, but he was. he was bored, but he wasn’t. & there was homework he could try to do or a list of movies he should watch but —-

when tsukishima was fourteen, he felt his heart sitting at the back of his throat & in the pit of the stomach. fatigue from sickness surely. coughing was surely the cause of hopelessness blurring his vision.

at some point, he turned on the television. but then he couldn’t bring himself to press any other buttons on the remote. he thought hard about it & couldn’t move his fingers. he stared at the television long enough that the screen went black, & it felt the same as watching a movie. somehow.

hopelessness, disconnection, empty feelings — lasting days that felt like an eternity. all symptomatic of bronchitis, right?

except that it happened again. & again. & again. weeks full of low days, blue spells —- & tsukishima wasn’t always sick when they happened. he was fifteen / sixteen / seventeen / twenty-two & still had to go to school, to practice, to work. even if on those days, he couldn’t properly bring himself to hear what was being said to him —-

if he couldn’t bring himself to care / to move / to try / to smile / to engage / to be / to be / to be.

he’s twenty-two, living with hinata, & it’s happening again. when energy is continually sapped, he gets a little messy, a little more reclusive. tsukishima hates to work on his bed, but right now —-

it’s his best option. papers & books & laundry join him; he feels messy, but — so be it. the sun had set three hours ago, & tsukishima never turned on the light. so he sits in the dark. like he had done yesterday & the day before that. he’s not sure of the last time he changed his clothes or washed his hair, but . . .

technically, he’s got a paper to write. the cursor on a blank document on his computer screen blinks at him. tsukishima blinks back & knows that the lighting is hurting his eyes.

—— the front door opens / closes. the sound is muffled through the walls of tsukishima’s room, & he thinks nothing of it. hinata is home. tsukishima hears the shower start & stop & hinata’s whistling through the kitchen. hinata is a mediocre whistler, tsukishima thinks.

then there’s a pound at his bedroom door ( a knock ), & hinata doesn’t even wait for a response before pushing open the door to invite himself in. light pours into the room, & tsukishima squints at the suddenness of it. he squints at hinata, realizes he too looks tired, & —— remembers it’s his night to cook. he doesn’t think he had even seen hinata the night before ( or the night before that? )

hinata says something tsukishima doesn’t hear, & tsukishima just stares at his empty computer screen —- there’s no point saving the document; there’s nothing to save. too sharply he shuts the laptop & pushes it away from him to try to stand up / to get moving / to cook / hinata’s watching / there’s a mess on his bed / tsukishima feels like a mess like —-

one step at time. he should cook. he doesn’t know what ingredients they have. he keeps laying in bed . . . his legs are aching a little from inactivity.

he can’t do it. he can’t even bring himself to sit up when he starts to fumble on his wrinkled bed-sheets for his wallet ( he knows it’s there somewhere ) — ‘ just order in tonight. it’s on me. i don’t care what it is; i'm sick — ‘ he starts to say & to lie.

tsukishima neglects to realize that hinata might be able to see that something is wrong / off / that tsukishima is laying in blue. the mattress dips suddenly, & suddenly hinata is there with too intense eyes & too red hair & too uninvited presence. tsukishima stares at the ceiling to ignore all of this —-

then calloused skin presses atop his still searching hand &

it’s quiet.

tsukishima intertwines their fingers without thinking.

he hates to be seen like this. but it’s good sometimes not to be alone. strangers ? familiar ? somewhere in-between ?

there’s a 50 / 50 chance that tsukishima is reading his book for: (1) recreation or (2) his studies. it’s friday night, & so ( for pride ) tsukishima is inclined to maintain that it’s for recreation; even he isn’t too thrilled at the idea of admitting late-night work as the start of his weekend. but the book is nice — a mixture of history & sociology all interlaced within the context of fables & old classic poems that introduce each chapter.

so he settles on the couch, blanket cloaked around him like an irregular jacket & socked feet stretching over the length of the couch. honestly, he’s not really sure where this blanket had come from. it must have been a gift, maybe . . . but it was too small to cover his body completely, so . . . it works better as a jacket.

he settles on the couch, balancing a mug discretely filled with kahlua/milk against his side when he flips pages —

hinata has a way of making himself uninvited — & hinata knows no boundaries as he drops next to tsukishima on the couch. next to being a relative term. dense muscle squashes tsukishima’s shins, & tsukishima refuses to look up. still, he does briefly entertain the idea of trying to dislodge hinata from his shins by moving around to & fro —-

tsukishima entertains the idea & tries it. hinata stays put. tsukishima gives up & pulls one foot out from beneath hinata to prod at him with a socked foot. this seems effective, tsukishima decides — as he can’t really tell what hinata does in retaliation.

not until hinata speaks ( there’s something lonesome about you, he says ). tsukishima startles enough that he drops the book — the impact is a 50/50 shot to (1) his chest and (2) his face. tsukishima scrunches his nose to shrug off the impact &

people are always saying that — in some form or fashion. tsukishima, have you made friends? or kei! you have friends that aren’t yamaguchi. or you know you have a trash personality, right?

yes — he knows. yes — he thinks about it often. yes — it is the way he likes. he’s made choices to be the person he is, & it’s a lot of strain to be anyone else. even if all the time spent wrapped up in his own head can ( inevitably ) make a man feel lonely.

but the comment feels so out of the blue that tsukishima feels exposed — like there’s a spotlight on him, like maybe he's sadder than he thought he was.

he moves the book off his face to realize hinata’s face is closer than he expected it to be. red cowlicked hair, sharp eyes, & tongue sticking out in focus as he cocks his head to . . .

read the back of tsukishima’s book cover?

tsukishima’s cheeks flood with color when he realizes that hinata was only reading a line from the back of his book. the flush spreads to the back of his neck when he realizes that he had spent a fraction too long staring. he hastens a sip of his kahlua/milk & splutters a little when it goes down the wrong pipe.

. . . for crying out loud. in a desperate attempt to protect his pride, tsukishima stretches a palm over hinata’s face to push him back. ‘ didn’t know you could read, ‘ he mutters a teasing remark & shakes his head to regain himself. ‘ as if i had the chance to be lonesome when you’re always around you know ? ‘

adequate save, tsukishima. adequate save. embarrassment aside . . . he slides his foot back beneath hinata in defeat & allows hinata his throne.

you’re welcome to keep sitting with me. tsukishima offers a sip of his drink.

the popular theory assumes that hinata’s nerves & poor sleep the night before the incident were responsible. tsukishima doesn’t necessarily trust the popular theory.

so as hinata drops beside him on the bus . . . tsukishima eyes him with weariness. & he continues to eye hinata with weariness even when the team has been on the road for forty-five minutes.

but even with his distrust & his unwillingness to initiate conversation . . . tsukishima is startled to speech when he processes what exactly he is seeing.

‘  . . . a flip phone. i didn’t know they still made those. ‘

it's early, the sun barely has greeted the morning, and tatsuki has only just made it halfway down the street from their house when they spot @hioku racing near on his bicycle. they wave eagerly, flagging him down with a raised hand.

❝ early start for you too, huh ? such a hard worker ~ 🎵 ! oh, hey ! wanna see something cool ? ❞