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rdy: same stars; from the city lights, from your eyes
synopsis: atsumu learns to love the wordĀ āhello.ā
part i. of the redefining you spin-offĀ Ā
characters: miya atsumu, you
genre: fluff, domestic fluff | wc: 2,000+
a/n: timeline wise this is a snip of how it was like after they met again. (pre-epilogue)
commissions | ko-fi
the colors of new are gold.Ā
pale yellow some mornings, before lilac comes to soothe the flame of the sunrise. marmalade finding home within the specks of blue, when itās 4:30 and the scorched sky slowly comes to bathe the world in warmth again.
but always, itās gold.
thereās a part of you that yearns to hold the glimmer of the stars again. to uncover the stories behind the constellations and understand why even the most beautiful can only flicker from the distance at best.
like a sea of what-ifs that come and go. a hundred million suns burning, blinding, though still finite against timeāa million more light years away. though days come where you recall the backdrop of tokyoās midnight and the frayed strings that came with it, you suppose that the lesson behind the beauty of the stars is found in its flicker.
it comes in the night, beating once, then twice, because seldom does it follow the law of the divine where if it returns for a third time, it would be fate. so like always, because youāre more familiar with a goodbye instead of a hello, you bid your starsāyour tetsuāgoodbye, as your redefined gold comes.
a break in the dawn where the colors in the sky breathe instead of flicker. then instead of trying to hold it, to capture whatās majesty within your palms made of flesh, scars, and historyāyou lay still and let whatās there intertwine with you.
you find that because it burns, the heavens give the skies a break and blankets the world in the night with the flickering starlight and constellations. but really, though thereās a part of you that wants to put a meaning to the metaphor written behind the stars, truly, itās always been within the glow of the sun where you found your most vulnerable truth.
that because daylight is golden, youāre reminded of how gentle even the burning sun can be.
-
miya atsumu learns to love hello, because he finds that beginnings have always been beautiful with you. beside the sea that urges the flow of the waves to stay calm so it could reflect the sky, and in a makeshift standstill within the world thatās a blur in constant motion.Ā
itās nice, because youāve always had a way with saying your hellos as if goodbye is never even part of the plan.Ā Ā
as if being in a constant state of hi, hello, how are you, and iāll say hi again laterāhe smiles, even as you wave and turn for the exit, because he knows that itās really just a door. youāll walk through it, drive to wherever home ends up being for the meantime, and answer the call with your voice a little muffled.
itās redefining what it means to be present, because even if your hand isnāt held in his, or your face close enough for him to make out the lines on your face that crinkle when youāre flusteredāhe feels you there. (here.)
thereās a silence in the room that doesnāt feel much like silence at all because every day, when 5:45 brings gold, the redefinition of youāof loveāexplodes, where in the fragments it scatters lays the puzzle pieces of clarity. an echoing truth that the colors of new are painted in gold and a burning scarlet. every shade of your most beautiful kind of sunset shown like a masterpiece against a canvas of hazel.
atsumu hears hello when his phone rings, or when he scrolls through the pictures of two shadows shoulder to shoulder, walking hand in hand against the sand.
hellos within the memory of your beginning, and the hello from yesterday when he finally saw you under the skies of home.
truth is, itās really just a word. he says hello in greeting, during interviews when he has to be polite to the rest of the world. hello, like nodding his head to his brother when he walks in the shop and their eyes meet in the middle across the room. words that were crafted holding the sole purpose to be said in passing, meant start and end something before it stretches the moment too far for idle talk.
but because he thinks heās a lot more sentimental than he gives himself credit for, atsumu grins, knowing that hello is really just a word for the rest of the world. itās when heās made it home, and is seated in the middle of the living room with a box of takeout meant just for one placed in the middle of the coffee table where he realizes it doesnāt have to be.
thereās a photo of you, taken candidly that you donāt exactly know about tucked into the third card slot in his wallet on the left side that redefines the sentiment behind hello. your lips are pursed into a pout, your chin propped up with the palm of your hand, and you look exasperated over something he doesnāt even remember at this point. thereās a line furrowed in between your eyebrows he only knows is there because heās been close enough to see it himself.
itās not as much as saying that he settles within the silence because the symphony that daylight brings never really gives the world a moment to pause. then atsumu chuckles. first, at his phone ringing, then second, at the contact picture of you with your eyes half open blaring on the screen.
heās come a long way since hellos and margaritas, he thinks. a long way since hellos just meant beginnings meant to be understood as just part of conversation in passing.
almost as if his hello was meant to be just the temporary flicker of the stars found freckled across the blank of the midnight sky.
thereās still a couple suitcases unpacked in the corner of his room, and half his furniture still hasnāt arrived yet. heās sat on the floor, with takeout for one in front of him, while only one shelf in the fridge is filled with half a carton of whole milk, and a box of leftover pizza from last night. a house for one, that doesnāt feel lonely even though only the sound of a clock ticking on the wall is the noise thatās constant from sunrise to sunset, and every twilight that flickers in the in-between.
so while hello is just a hello for the rest of the world, when he picks up the phone heās smiling before he even opens his mouth to greet you. itās your voice that pushes past the halfway mark and reaches him first, your hello kind of like a burst of something he thinks falls in line with all the sentiment that mirrors forever.
perhaps itās love, but because the hello shared still tells a story thatās in chapter one, he knows that for now all he can do is allow for what took root to break past the soil and blossom.
and itās you, across the city, smiling against the screen of your phone when his voice breaks through the static of the phone and greets you with a hello that doesnāt feel like all its meant is to signify a start towards a flickering presence.
a clockās ticking, and thereās an early dinner for one still in the plastic container in front of him as heās sat on the floor. the traffic below is muffled by the closed windows, but the telltale glow of gold spills into the room, breaking past the barrier of the curtains he didnāt bother closing.
ātsumu,ā he hears you say, before a hello. itās followed by two gentle beats of silence that doesnāt feel like loneliness at all, before you break the silence you let settle, saying, āhi.ā
he steadies his sight on the way scarlet begins to swirl outside. through the curtains, and past the windowpanes, he sees more than just your hello embedded within a memory intertwined with gold. without as much as a second thought, atsumu catches himself smiling, recalling how much brighter the world seemed to look as a reflection against your eyes.
another pause, then heās smiling wider. āif it isnāt my favorite girl.ā Ā
he hears you laugh, and just like that your hello redefines your presence into the kind thatās here, meaning to stay. ābold of you to assume that iām your girl.ā
āare you not?ā
you laugh again, leaning back and pressing the phone closer to your ear. you found that in the moments that counted the most, even though atsumuās voice was more quiet every time the sun began to set, his presence rooted itself to the point where even his silence began to speak for him.
(like a hello thatās said only to echo, everything he saysāeverything about himārings.)
āi only said hello, tsumu,ā you smile.
he shrugs, propping one knee up so he could lean forward and rest his arm against it. blinking towards the sky, he immortalizes the memory of the scarlet painted sky in his archives, before smiling towards the ceiling. he wants to cover it in glow in the dark stars, he thinks. thereās an unfounded lesson meant to be taken from the constellations, and because it only comes in a flicker, perhaps he can try to stretch the in-between to last a little longer within his walls.
āi only said hello,ā you said, and he nods, because itās true.
you say hello when you pick up the phone, and hello when heās pulling up to your parking lot and waving at your window he knows is closest to the tallest branch of that old oak tree. five letters to the one word thatās redefined his idea of beginnings, and the flickering nature of presence.
you talk about your day, because he asks, then ask him about his, when you finish.
(he could really get used to this.) (he could find familiarity in this.)
atsumuās quiet, when you talk, then after the silence stretches, itās you, saying āhello?ā that centers him back to the present.
like the vague face of home, looking like a blur because thereās still too many empty spaces around his walls to consider this space well loved. but what grounds him, he realizes, is the fact that itās his slippers waiting everyday by the genkan and his favorite kind of milk in the fridge, the carton already half empty.
all the while, itās your voice over the phone that makes him find peace in hello, because in a way it sounds like you mean to say welcome home. youāre a couple blocks from here, but youāre under the same sky, looking at the same swirls of scarlet that probably tell more than just a story thatās got to do with sunsets in the summer.
āyeah,ā you eventually hear him mumble even though the conversation dwindles.
youāre staring at the sky, from your own corner of the world, two blocks from him, through the window that faces the west. itās beautiful, you think, to live life with you own stories plastered against your own walls, but still be able to look at the skies and remember that youāre living a part of you with someone too.
āmy favorite girl,ā his voice mumbles again, and though he sounds a little absent minded, you suppose that atsumuās always had a way of never making the silence feel lonely.
so you sit still and listen, finding comfort in the story you share with your serendipity written across the swirls of the skies.
kind of like what he does, as atsumu thinks of how golden the word āhelloā turned out to be. come sunsets etched against hazel; come beginnings that start with the purpose to last; come you who redefined what it means to find more than just a flicker in hello.
then heās blinking once, and heās thinking of you. twice, and itās still you. and because he likes to think that youāre fate, when he blinks for a third time, heās smiling--because against the backdrop of gold, all he sees is always, always you.Ā
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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