#onehope

@onehope​​ said:   ❛ don’t we deserve to be happy? ❜ ushioi :'))) (questions sentence starters)

Growing up, Ushijima had never lent much thought to the idea of relationships. Wherever he was concerned, it always seemed the rest of his peers was moving at a different pace than he was. His classmates would start talking about girls; and he would look out the window, thinking about his upcoming practice with the junior team later that day. His classmates would start talking to girls, and talk about dating, and girlfriends, and he would think about how he could improve his service toss. His friends would actually start dating, and introduce their partners to each other, to family; and Ushijima would wonder if he there was an unspoken step he’d missed, somewhere along the line. It wasn’t a horrible realisation. It wasn’t painful, or a longing doomed to never be quelled. He just assumed/concluded/deduced that perhaps, this was a kind of fulfillment, and happiness, that wasn’t in the cards for him. 

Until Tooru has conscienciously, stubbornly dismantled every one of the certitudes Ushijima had come to take for granted. Maybe this kind of fulfillment, and happiness, was in the cards for him, after all.

... though that might be hard to believe, right now: Tooru curled up on a chair, arms wrapped around his knees like he’s hiding behind them, Wakatoshi standing tall and still like a statue of clay in the middle of the kitchen. Disappointment and frustration leave a sour taste on the tongue; their application to return to Japan delayed because of a miscommunication with the Argentinian authorities. A delay is better than a refusal... but after years of battling impossible distances and interminable absences? 

Frustration barely begins to cover it.

Wakatoshi looks at Tooru, and hates to see him like this. Hates to see him unhappy, hates to see him suffer from a situation that constantly escapes their control. Hates to see him question whether or not they deserve to be happy - even if it’s rhetorical. What have they done wrong, for that to even be a question?

Nothing, Ushijima decides. They have done nothing wrong, and they deserve to be happy, and all of this is still in the cards - for both of them. 

Wakatoshi shakes himself from his muted stillness and closes the distance between them. He crouches down at Tooru’s side; and gently presses his hand to his jaw to force him to turn his eyes and look at him. “Hey. Look at me.” Tooru looks at him. “This isn’t over yet. We’ll do the paperwork as many times as it takes, until we get what we need. This is only a temporary setback... an annoying one.” Ushijima’s gaze and voice don’t waver - they seldom do. Sometimes, it has been called coldness. More generous commentators have called it self-control and indomitable stubborness. He is very stubborn when it comes to Tooru. 

a comprehensive list of scenarios — accepting !

53.  CEMETERY:  for one muse to find the other at a gravestone :: @onehope’s ginoza

Kogami didn’t have much longer until the Sibyl System restored itself, and he pushed it by lingering. While he said most of his goodbyes in letter form to Akane and didn't intend to get himself arrested (or, executed as he anticipated), he found there were loose ends he needed to tie up before he could comfortably leave.

Kogami told Masaoka in spirit that he’d borrow the bike he used to get to the hyperoats facility; though he saw what became of him for himself, he felt it’d be right to return it in a final, sentimental gesture.

He waited until he could confirm where he’d been buried (burning two days) until he went to visit his gravesite. With the hue-masking helmet in tow, he rode there. That left this last day before he could make a clean escape from Japan by boat (per Saiga’s final arrangement for him).

Kogami should have expected someone to be there so soon after Masaoka’s burial, but he hoped to be alone for this. He froze when he recognized the figure knelt before his gravestone and sucked in a breath; he turned sharply to try to leave, but the figure whipped around to look at him with an unreadable expression.

“Kogami.”

“Ginoza.”

Kogami expected Ginoza to rush to alert whoever remained of Division 1 of his appearance, but he remained still as their eyes met and for some reason, he couldn’t relax through that silent exchange. Ginoza’s brows furrowed in a deeply contemplative manner he recognized; Kogami wouldn’t dare to smile sheepishly at it like he used to.

Kogami tentatively took a step forward. When Ginoza turned back to the gravestone, he joined him in kneeling. Kogami clasped his hands together in prayer motion, wishing Masaoka a good rest in the afterlife before he fished the bike keys out of his pocket and laid them down beside the fresh flowers that rest by the epitaph.

Ginoza’s gaze lingered over it.

“… goodbye, Ginoza,” Kogami said lamely, as he rose to leave.

Ginoza’s mouth hung open to say something in return, but perhaps the weight of the farewell was too heavy on his throat. Kogami wasn’t sure how he mustered his own.

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Half soul, walking with heavy legs.