#wordly stuff

@ezzydean

Hey look, Ezzy, I got you Karasuno relationship anarchy. Featuring a bonus Noya and bonus (implied) Daichi, for you. As a treat. You're welcome.

"Why is arson always your first answer?"

Koushi looked up at the sound of Nishinoya's voice, a response poised on his tongue, only to sputter and stop short at the realization that Nishinoya wasn't talking to him, but to Asahi.

"Because arson is both crime scene and clean up in one," Asahi replied. "So long as your target is inside whatever building you burn down when it burns down, it's a win-win."

"Are you two plotting a crime spree without me?" Koushi gasped, vaulting up off the couch.

"Oh, hey, Suga," Asahi greeted, smiling. "We didn't know you were home. And it's more of an assassination than a crime spree, but yeah."

"Is it an assassination?" Nishinoya argued. "I feel like an assassination target should be, y'know, politically significant. This is more of a murder."

"A hit?" Koushi suggested.

"A hit!" Nishinoya crowed. "See, this is why we shouldn't be planning our revenge without Suga-san involved."

"That is one hundred percent correct, Noya," Koushi laughed. Asahi shook his head fondly. "Who are we putting a hit on?"

"That old crackpot at the boba house who wouldn't give me lavender syrup in my drink," Nishinoya answered. "He kept saying that lavender wasn't on the menu, and wasn't even a flavor. It's a flower, not for food."

"What a dumb bitch," Koushi hummed. "He definitely needs to be put out of your misery."

"I knew you would understand," Nishinoya cooed. Koushi nodded solemnly and hooked an arm around Nishinoya's shoulders, pulling him close.

"Unfortunately," he said, and Nishinoya groaned. "Stop that. Unfortunately, Asahi's right. About the arson, anyway."

"Told you."

"Arson is a very good first answer," Koushi continued. "And if you do it well enough there will be nothing to trace it to you. No fingerprints, no dna, just cinders and sadness. Exactly as we like it."

"Man, the two of you have a fucked up sense of humor," Nishinoya said. Koushi and Asahi answered him in perfect unison,

"Daddy issues."

Nishinoya squinted at them for a moment, then his eyes went wide with realization. "Nope," he said, breaking free of Koushi's hold to move to the kitchen. "I don't want to know anything about what the two of you got up to with Daichi-san in high school. Or before Suga-san moved to Tokyo. Or ever."

"You sure?" Asahi asked while Koushi cackled. "Because there was this one time, with the ice—"

"Ooh! And the one with the rope and the nipple clamps, the one where he—"

"Yeah! That one was great! But don't forget about the—"

"Stop!" Nishinoya cried. Koushi leaned in a little to make sure he wasn't genuinely distressed, then grinned.

"Why? Jealous?"

"Aww, Noya, we can make sure the next time we get up to anything with Daichi that you're there too!"

"I’m sure he'd be happy to have you along," Koushi agreed.

#4: One of the challenges I've set up for myself for this year is to take a prompt and turn its original intention on its head. For today's OsaIwa post, I decided to take a line from an NSFW prompt list and make it fluffy and innocent. Though, it did turn more crack-y than fluffy, but oh well. Atsumu is so fun to fuck with.

If Miya Atsumu had one single regret in his life, it would be that he didn't eat Osamu in the womb. If he had two, it was that he had let Osamu and Iwaizumi meet. Of course, both of these regrets were easy to have in hindsight: fetus Atsumu hadn't known what an absolute shit his twin would turn out to be, and the Atsumu who was fresh off his Olympic high hadn't realized that his athletic trainer had the worst taste known to man, but what could he do? Besides murder Osamu and dump his body in the ocean?

"I think you're overreacting, TsumTsum," Bokuto said as they drew near to the door of Osamu's first Onigiri Miya branch. Atsumu just looked balefully up at his friend. Bokuto loved everyone, even that moron Osamu, so it wasn't unsurprising that he didn't see the problem here.

"Nah, it's not an overreaction," Atsumu said. "If I throw him in the ocean, Ma really would skin me. She's got a taxidermist all picked out ta dye my hair dark and stuff me and set me up in her living room so she can pretend she has one nice, quiet son instead of the two she's got."

"Not what I meant, but man, that's dark," Bokuto commented.

"We deserve it," Atsumu said with a shrug. He straightened his shoulders and opened the door.

"Welcome to Oni-- aw, fuck, it's you," Osamu groused.

"Great ta see you too, scrub," Atsumu snipped. Osamu rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Bokkun, nice ta see ya," he said.

"Hi, Miyaasam!" Bokuto chirped. They took their seats at the counter, and Atsumu squinted around suspiciously.

"What're you lookin' for?" Osamu snarled.

"Nothin'," Atsumu said. Osamu rolled his eyes again, but then a smirk began creeping across his face.

"Hey, babe, we got company!" he called over his shoulder. Hardly a moment later, Iwaizumi emerged from the kitchen - which, rude, Osamu never let Atsumu back there! - and smiled at the sight of Atsumu and Bokuto.

"Hey. How're you two recovering? I caught the stream for that last Jackals and Falcons match. Looked brutal."

"You have no idea," Bokuto groaned. "I thought my arms were gonna fall off at that last spike in the second from Aran!"

"Yeah, Aran-kun's a cannon," Osamu laughed. "Hajime, are ya hungry? I just got done with a fresh batch, extra spicy fer ya."

"You're a menace," Iwaizumi laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to Osamu's cheek - gross - and then walked around the counter to sit beside Atsumu.

"Here, scrub, you can have some too," Osamu said, setting out plates for them. "Tryin' a new recipe. Bokkun, got some tarako here fer ya, so ya don't burn yer tongue off."

"You're the best, Miyaasam!" Bokuto crowed, pulling his plate closer to himself. Atsumu rolled his eyes and grabbed an onigiri for himself. He didn't bother asking what was in it— it could be anything from spicy tuna mayo to some horrific combination of half-spoiled ingredients Osamu had lying around to fuck with Atsumu, and there was no way to find out without taking a bite.

This time, it did turn out to be actual food, spicy kimchi and mayo, and something else that Atsumu couldn't quite put his finger on. He hummed, taking a second bite.

"Balance is off," he said with a shrug, then stuffed the rest in his mouth.

"Which way?" Osamu asked. Atsumu hummed, chewing.

"Yer mayo's overpowerin'. Yer goin' fer spice here, right?" Osamu nodded. "If yer tryin' fer the consistency with how much mayo yer puttin' in, ya may wanna chop yer kimchi finer so it'll mix with less. It'll also bring out whatever that extra spice is— chili sauce?"

"Tried it with siracha this time, fer the consistency yer talkin' about. Not the worst idea you've had," Osamu said. He glanced at Iwaizumi and snorted. "Do ya need to use yer safeword, darlin'?" he asked, and Atsumu promptly sprayed the bite he'd just taken all over the counter. "Tsumu, what the fuck?!" Osamu cried.

"You what the fuck?! You can't just say that shit, ya fuck!"

Iwaizumi burst out laughing. He slapped Atsumu on the back as he accepted the glass Osamu held out for him. "I'd hate to see you react to how we actually talk at home," he wheezed once he had taken a long drink.

"I never shoulda let you two meet," Atsumu grumbled. "You were supposed ta be better than this, Iwaizumi-san!"

"I mean. You've met Oikawa. That's my best friend." Iwaizumi just shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "And yeah, Samu, it is too much for me. You'll get me there eventually, though, don't worry."

"I mean, the process is half the fun," Osamu said, and though to any other ear it would've been completely innocuous, Atsumu knew his brother. He knew when Osamu was fucking with him, and when he meant the double entendres that he always claimed Atsumu was reaching too far for. Atsumu rolled his eyes, scooped up Iwaizumi's plate and dumped his own remaining onigiri on it, and walked out the door. He ignored the sound of his brother shouting at him and Iwaizumi and Bokuto laughing. He'd had more than enough of that moron for one day. Really, for his entire life, but...

At the end of the day, Atsumu did love his brother. Which was why he hadn't eaten him in utero, or murdered him and found some way to dispose of him without facing his ma's wrath. Not that the fucker deserved it.

Though. His onigiri was pretty good.

Ao3

#3: SakuAtsu meet uglies. It seems to me that most of y'all don't know just how bad of an obsession that I have with these two losers. Like, the Chaos Incarnate chat knows, and Haz knows, but outside of them, I feel like y'all have no idea. So here. A meet ugly for this challenge.

When Osamu had told Atsumu he'd set him up with a guy "about ten thousand miles outta yer league, yer welcome, scrub", Atsumu had been, of course, skeptical. And then he'd gone on the date and realized that Osamu had been understating just how gorgeous this guy was. And then the date had gone horribly, disastrously wrong. Like, Atsumu had never been on such a miserable date, wrong. Like, Atsumu wanted to change his name and flee the country, wrong. Like, Atsumu was never going to emerge from the pits of despair this date had left him in, wrong. He shuffled into the apartment he shared with his brother, sopping wet and miserable.

"I'm home," he whined, doing his best to peel his soaked sneakers off his feet. Osamu glanced up from the couch, then did a double take.

"Yer soaked," he said.

"Great observation skills ya got there," Atsumu muttered, but it was all the retaliation he could come up with. He just shook his head and squelched down the hall toward the bathroom. When he returned, considerably dryer and a hell of a lot warmer, he dropped onto the opposite end of the couch from Osamu and stared at the television.

"So I take it that didn't go well," Osamu said. His voice was quiet, feeling Atsumu out and gauging his reactions. Atsumu was too exhausted to really do anything about that just then.

"No," Atsumu said dully. "It didn't go well."

#2: For today's challenge, I rolled a d100 a few times on my random fic generator, to get a prompt and some characters. I love this concept, it was so much fun to slap together lol. Enjoy!

If there was one thing Kita Shinsuke had learned in his time at Inarizaki High, it was to be wary of twins. He seemed to attract them, like the Miyas had slipped some sort of magnets under his skin when he wasn't looking, and each set he came across brought some new brand of chaos to his life. Atsumu and Osamu, he had largely learned to corral, but each of the five pairs that he met after them had been different enough in some way that the tricks he'd learned in high school weren't as effective.

He'd just finished a delivery at the Higashiosaka branch of Onigiri Miya, the truck still sitting in the back alley behind the shop as Shinsuke strolled along the street. Atsumu had been visiting for an early lunch, his boyfriend sitting next to him at the counter and making the most smitten faces at him whenever his back was turned. Osamu had mentioned Suna coming down to visit as well, and he'd sounded so happy when he'd said it. Shinsuke was happy for them both. He was happy for all his friends. It was nice to see so many of them following their dreams, finding joy, finding someone to cherish them. Shinsuke had a serene little smile on his face as he window shopped, thinking of the way Atsumu had leaned toward his boyfriend subconsciously, and the way Osamu had smiled. The smile Shinsuke wore dropped immediately when he nearly tripped over a little girl outside a coffee shop, only to find a little boy the same age standing right behind him.

Here we go, Shinsuke thought to himself, and bowed to the latest twins.

"Apologies," he said, smiling politely. "I didn't see ya there."

He tried to keep walking, to cut short any intervention they could stage. But then the girl looked up at him, cocked her head, and said, "Onii-san, you seem lonely."

The words stopped Shinsuke in his tracks. He tried to keep walking, but his legs wouldn't budge. He found himself instead turning to look at the kids.

"What makes ya say that?" he asked.

"No, it isn't that he's lonely," the boy said, looking at his sister. "It's that he's insecure. He doesn't see what's in front of him."

"That isn't it, either," she argued. "He sees his friends. He's jealous of them."

"I don't--" Shinsuke started, but the boy snapped his fingers, and the girl's eyes widened, and both said at the same time,

"He thinks he's unloveable!"

"Why do you think that, Onii-san?" the girl asked, turning back to Shinsuke.

"Is it just romantic love you think you can't have? That would make sense, since your friends are so close to your heart," the boy added.

"I should be going," Shinsuke managed, and forced himself to turn.

"No, that won't do," the girl said, and reached out to brush her fingertip across his forearm. He stopped, blinking.

"What was..." He shook his head. "I don't have anywhere ta be, but I don't wanna be here," he said, then frowned. "I didn't mean ta say that..."

"Oh, it's fine," the boy said. "There's no use in trying to be polite now. So, why do you think you can't have love?"

"Because I'm boring," Shinsuke answered promptly, then frowned deeper.

"Hmm. But did you ever try for it?" asked the girl.

"Well, no, but--"

"Ren! Ran! There you are!" Shinsuke looked up and prayed desperately that his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. The young man who was jogging toward them looked enough like the twins that he must have been related, perhaps an older brother. He was beautiful, sandy brown hair, droopy green eyes, broad and tall. Even frowning at his siblings, Shinsuke could see kindness in his face. "Please tell me you weren't bothering this poor man," the stranger groaned.

"Of course not!" scoffed the girl.

"We were just trying to help," muttered the boy. Their brother groaned.

"I'm so sorry about them," he said, bowing to Shinsuke. "They like to meddle, no matter how much I tell them to leave people to live their own lives." He glared at the twins, who blinked back, unrepentant. It was a look Shinsuke had seen on the Miyas' faces so often that he had to smile.

"I don't think they did much harm," he said, and the stranger blinked at him. "They meant well, anyway."

"...Ran," the stranger hissed, and the girl shrugged.

"He was running away," she said, looking at her nails. "We were only trying to help."

"Listen, sir," the stranger said, turning back to Shinsuke. "It'll wear off in about three hours, a day at most, depending on how much skin contact she got. But you'll want to be careful who you talk to for the rest of the day. My little sister has a... gift, let's call it, for getting people to tell the truth, and she abuses it shamelessly." He glared at her again, but she just shrugged.

"Oh. That makes sense, then," Shinsuke said.

"I'll get these menaces back to our uncle's house, then," the stranger said, grabbing his siblings by the shoulders. He bowed again. "I'm sorry for the trouble." He paused a moment, seeming to consider something, then shook his head and dug a slip of paper out of his pocket. "This is my phone number. I don't give it out much, but, well. If the effects don't wear off, or if you run into any trouble because of her, feel free to text me and I'll see if I can help."

Shinsuke kept his mouth carefully shut as he took the slip of paper, his breath going shaky at the brush of their skin together. The stranger smiled, bowed once more, then steered the twins away. Shinsuke looked down at the number he'd been given, and the name scribbled above it.

"Tachibana Makoto," he read quietly, and looked up at the retreating backs of the three siblings. Makoto was scolding his brother, his back broad and what little of his face that Shinsuke could see painfully handsome. Shinsuke bit his lip. He would text Makoto, he decided, regardless of the effects of his little sister's gift. If only for sheer curiosity's sake.

Smiling to himself, he shook his head and turned back down the street, thinking of another pair of twins and just how explosive their reaction would be if this went the way Shinsuke was thinking it might. He would have to be sure to avoid speaking to either of them if he truly did have to tell the truth. Or maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't. Maybe he could sow a little chaos of his own.

I've decided, against my better judgment and at the horrible enableationing of a certain @ezzydean, to write and post 365 ficlets this year, again. I've got a nifty little spreadsheet to keep track and everything. Each one of these will be a different sort of funness. Some will be ceated using the random fic generator I made a while back. Some will have to do with specific numbers or prompts. I'm not promising to post every single day, but I will have 365 by the end of the year. This one in particular is *apparently* the poly karasuno bug coming back to bite me once more, so enjoy!

"God damn you, you stupid motherfucking cunt waffle!"

Asahi smiled, not even bothering to open his eyes as the melody of profanity drifted through the house. It was a beautiful sound, the sound of his love and all the happiness she could bring to his life. There was a long pause of silence, long enough that Asahi could fully wake up and realize just how big and empty their bed was.

When she started shouting again, he grinned and threw the covers off.

"What are you cursing at today?" he asked, padding up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He had to stoop to bury his nose in her soft black hair, but it was worth it for the scent of her floral shampoo and the way she leaned back against him with a happy little hum.

"These morons don't know how to play," she groused, and clicked away at her controller some more.

"Why are you playing standing up, you weirdo?" he laughed, and she just shook her head.

"Gotta concentrate," she said, and then immediately shouted, "You fucking piss ant, my grandma could play better than that and she's fucking dead!"

Asahi shook his head with a chuckle and padded off to find himself some coffee. When she finished her round, she shut down the console and followed him into the kitchen.

"Happy birthday," she said, her voice soft and melodious as it always had been. She stepped up behind him, copying the pose he'd used a moment before, and nuzzling between his shoulder blades.

"Thank you, Kiyoko," he said. He patted at her hand until she let him turn around, but she never removed her arms from his waist. "What time does the chaos start?" he asked.

"I told the others to be here around noon, so any time between an hour ago and six this evening," she said. He laughed again, just in time with the pounding of fists on the door. She hummed, swatted him on the ass, then swiped his coffee cup from the counter and nodded toward the door. "Well?" she taunted. "Go on. You know they won't wait for long. They love you too much for that." There was a double meaning in that, but Asahi ignored it for the time being.

"Brat," he laughed, and went to face his fate. As he opened the door and several members of the old Karasuno team tumbled in in a pile, he couldn't help but think that this right here was exactly how he wanted it.

"Asahi-san!" Nishinoya shouted from his spot on the top of the heap. "What the hell are you still doing in your pajamas?"

"Well, Noya, I just woke up, having spent the morning of my birthday lounging in bed, but a certain group of miscreants decided to interrupt me," Asahi huffed, and Nishinoya grinned up at him.

"I don't think they know what the word 'miscreants' even means," Tsukishima drawled. He was the only one who had avoided the pile, and he stood with his hip leaning against the doorway and his arms crossed and a smile on his face.

"Probably not," Asahi agreed, and hauled Nishinoya out of the doorway so that the others could start standing. He counted six: Nishinoya and Tsukishima, Tanaka, Hinata, Kageyama, and buried all the way at the bottom where Asahi hadn't even seen him, Kinoshita, who turned and glowered at Kageyama as soon as he was freed. "Are the others coming here, or are we meeting them?" Asahi asked.

"Daichi-san and Suga-san said they were coming here, but Yamaguchi and Narita-san are picking Yacchan up and meeting us at the shrine," Hinata chirped in answer. Asahi glanced at the clock on the stove and nodded.

"We should probably get going as soon as Daichi and Suga get here, then, to make sure Tadashi and Kazuhito don't break anything," he said.

"You gonna go in your boxers?" Tanaka asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. Asahi glanced down at himself and hummed.

"I would, but you know how I feel about free shows," he answered, turning down the hall to the sound of Tanaka choking on his own laughter. Kiyoko met him in the bedroom, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Are you going to do it this year?" she asked.

"We'll see how the shrine visit goes," he answered. She nodded.

"I'm with you either way."

"I know."

Suga and Daichi were just arriving when Asahi emerged, dressed this time. Suga hadn't removed any of his layers, but at the sight of Asahi coming down the hall, Daichi groaned and started pulling his coat back on.

"Do we have everyone?" Suga asked. "Who's got the child leashes today?"

"It's my birthday, so not me," Asahi said serenely.

"I lived in a foreign country for--"

"Two years, we know, Shouyou," Nishinoya interrupted. "I've set foot on six different continents. It's not gonna stop them from trying."

"You're both so small. We just don't want to lose you in the crowds!" There was absolute innocence in Suga's voice, but they all knew by then not to trust that. Hinata just rolled his eyes and stomped out the front door.

As Asahi walked through the streets toward the nearest shrine, he turned the same thought over and over in his head like a shiny stone. Kiyoko held one of his hands, muttering obscenities under her breath as they walked arm-in-arm, but the other hand was swinging back and forth in Suga's grip. Kinoshita had Noya in a piggyback hold, while Hinata tried to cajole Tsukishima into the same. Tanaka and Daichi were talking in soft tones at the front of the group.

"You know," Suga said, quiet enough that Asahi could pretend not to hear, if he wanted, "It doesn't need to fit in a box. It doesn't need a label that anyone else understands. If it works, it works, and that's all that matters."

Asahi hummed, squeezing his hand. They were just coming up to the shrine, their missing three waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. Asahi took a deep breath of the cold air and looked around at all of them, chattering and laughing and swearing and hanging off of one another, moving in a synchronized orbit like they had for years now. Suga was right, he thought, and smiled. What did it matter what anyone else thought, when he had this? Good fortune was already his, and had been all along. He just had to reach out and take it.

Send me a 💫 and I’ll set my music player on random. I’ll then pick my favorite line from the song that comes on, and write a ficlet based on it.

Where'd the wonder go? Traded magic for a measured hope. / Traded dreamin' for a worn out road, I'm tired of bein' in control

-needtobreathe, Child Again

Daichi looked tired. It wasn't that much of a surprise; they were all tired, to one extent or another. But Aiichirou looked at Daichi and he saw the exhaustion hanging from his shoulders like a cloak made of iron and he ached for him. There wasn't much Aiichirou could do but set an extra cup of coffee down on the table as he slid into the booth beside Daichi.

"Why are you sitting next to me, you weirdo?" Even the quip was tired, worn and frayed around the edges like a cloth that had been mended too many times. Aiichirou didn't answer, just leaned his head against Daichi's shoulder.

"You and I," he said slowly, quietly, "have lost something along the way."

"What did we lose?" Aiichirou knew that Daichi was playing along. Aiichirou couldn't really remember the last time Daichi played, though, the last time he goofed off for no reason other than the delight he could bring himself through it.

"Magic," Aiichirou replied. Daichi hummed, a sign for Aiichirou to continue, not quite energetic enough to be a question. "We used to think the world was ours for the taking. We saw mountains as challenges, as something to climb to see the other side. Walls weren't barriers, they were secrets ready to be uncovered. Now, what?"

"Now we're old," Daichi said. Aiichirou shook his head.

"I'm not even thirty yet," he pointed out. "You're only thirty-three. We're not old enough to be this worn down." Daichi said nothing, but Aiichirou could all but feel him thinking. "Remember when we met, and you were supposed to be this sturdy, responsible RA, but the first night all us first-years were in the dorms, you started a floor-wide Nerf gun fight?"

"I remember cleaning up all those Nerf darts," Daichi said, but there was a laugh in his voice, a lightness that Aiichirou had been yearning for.

"I remember cleaning them up with you," Aiichirou said. "I know you did it to make us all feel more at ease, more okay with being away from home. I know that it was a responsible thing to do. But I remember watching you take out Ito-kun. You had this manic look in your eye, and you were laughing. Laughing, Daichi." He took a breath that felt entirely too heavy, sliding his hand down the length of Daichi's arm to rest atop the back of his palm. "This town is killing us," he murmured.

Daichi didn't argue that, like he might have before. He just flipped his hand over to twine their fingers together, playing with Aiichirou's thumb in a long silence before he sighed. "It's not like we can do anything about that now," he said.

"Why not?"

"Hm?"

Aiichirou sat slowly upright, his eyes on the window. On the other side, he could see the pickup truck that Daichi had gotten from his father, a graduation gift just over ten years before. Daichi had been talking about trading it in on something more economical, a sedan with good gas mileage, but Aiichirou looked at it now and couldn't help the thoughts churning in his mind. That pickup truck had a shell for the bed. Shelter, enough space for both of them to lie down in if they filled it with pillows and blankets and maybe a mattress pad. The cab wasn't the largest, but if they packed up carefully, they could fit the things they needed easily enough. "Why can't we do anything?" Aiichirou asked, eyes still on that pickup truck, which was looking more and more like a ticket the longer he stared at it.

Daichi followed Aiichirou's line of sight, and he went still. Aiichirou could feel him thinking, could hear the way he turned the thoughts over in his mind, looking at each one like one of those rocks or feathers he'd pick up on the hikes they took while Aiichirou was in college, before they had slowed down so much. He turned to look at Aiichirou, and Aiichirou looked at him in return.

"We have savings," Daichi said slowly. Aiichirou nodded.

"The only thing I can see trouble with is getting out of the lease," he said.

"Hamada-san loves you. You could convince her of anything."

"We could just. Pack up. Wouldn't need to buy too much. Sell what we don't need, use that for fuel and food, maybe even use it to pay off the lease."

"Where would we go?" Aiichirou could see the grown-up in Daichi's eyes, battling to take over, to stop them on this foolish quest. He could also see Daichi, the boy he'd been once, the boy who still believed in wonder and joy and beauty, keeping the grown-up at bay for the moment. He squeezed Daichi's hand.

"Wherever we want," Aiichirou said. "Pick a direction. We'll just drive."

"There's only so much island for us to cover."

"So when we reach the ocean we'll sell the truck and get on a plane. Or put the truck on a boat." Aiichirou leaned closer to Daichi. "Go on an adventure with me," he breathed.

The echo had Daichi's breath going sharp for just a moment. Those were the first words Daichi had said to Aiichirou, the words he'd used to ask Aiichirou on a date that he hadn't realized was a date from Daichi's perspective until they'd already been on five of them. Those were the words Daichi had used to ask Aiichirou to move in with him. Those were words that Aiichirou hadn't heard in too long.

How had they let themselves grow so still?

"Okay," Daichi said, and it sounded a little like trust and a little like hope and a little like terror. Just like it had sounded when Aiichirou had accepted Daichi's invitation the first time, all those years before. "When do we leave?"

"How long do you need to pack up?" Aiichirou asked. "To quit your job, for me to quit mine? To sell the furniture and email Hamada-san?"

"If we work fast?" Daichi hummed, and god, there it was. That spark of mischief, of challenge, in Daichi's eyes, reigniting. "Two, three days."

"We need to tell some people where we're going, too," Aiichirou said.

"We don't know where we're going." Daichi giggled, actually fucking giggled, and Aiichirou was over the moon already. He grinned at Daichi and Daichi grinned back.

"That's what we'll tell them," he said. "You know Suga-san is gonna be thrilled about that."

"He'll definitely approve," Daichi agreed. "Okay." He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and glanced at the truck one more time. "Let's go home and get started."

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Is this a trick? Is this a treat? Who knows, certainly not me!

The day had begun just this side of cold, as it usually did near the end of October. Chilly, that was the word for it. There was a chill, a nip, a bite to the air, but it wasn’t enough to be called cold. Hisashi left the house with just a light jacket, a windbreaker the origins of which he could no longer remember. Did people even wear windbreakers anymore?

The meeting place was once a grove, home to a beautiful old tree and its younger siblings. Now it was just another suburban street corner. Hisashi didn’t have the energy to sneer at that. He hadn’t in god only knew how many dozens of years now.

Futakuchi was already there. Hisashi knew he was, even when he was still blocks away. The morning was drawing to its end, the sun reaching its height, and it was no longer chilly enough for a jacket. Hisashi paused outside a fast food chain to take it off and tie it around his waist. He knew what sorts of looks he was attracting, between the jacket and the fact tha the was pausing and the fact that he was on foot at all. But much like the energy to sneer, the energy to care had faded decades ago. He looked up at the hazy sky with the most he could muster up of a wish for times long gone, and kept walking.

When he reached the street corner that was once an ancient grove, he stopped beside his old companion.

“Not long now,” he murmured. Futakuchi didn’t answer, but Hisashi knew that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard. “Do you think this one will wipe them out?”

Futakuchi did answer that one, a slow shake of his head and a sigh. “Humans are a persistent species, you know that,” he said. “This has been building longer than we’ve been alive, you know. And how many cataclysms have they survived in all that time?”

Hisashi didn’t point out what they both knew: that those cataclysms were exactly why they were there, in the suburbs instead of a forest. He also didn’t point out that they, too, were a cataclysm, and that if humanity survived them, it would mean their long lives were for nothing.

“Not nothing,” Futakuchi murmured. Hisashi glanced at him.

“I’d forgotten about that,” he admitted.

“That you don’t need to say it out loud?” Hisashi nodded. Futakuchi shook his head and took Hisashi’s hand in his own. “It may not be the humans we need to worry about this time,” he said. Hisashi hummed. Futakuchi was right. This horror the humans had created was more insidious than anything the gods had come up with yet, including the two of them. Hisashi squeezed Futakuchi’s hand.

“We’ll survive,” he promised, looking out over the sprawling watercolor-stain of humanity stretched before them. He sighed. “We’ll survive like we always do, and so will they. I just.”’

“What is it?”

Hisashi looked up to find Futakuchi looking at him, something that didn’t happen as often as they both wanted it anymore. Hisashi smiled, a sad little thing. “Remember when they were beautiful?” he asked.

“They’re still beautiful,” Futakuchi pointed out.

“No, I mean… Remember when we could find them beautiful? Before they brought all this beyond the point of no return?”

“I do,” Futakuchi murmured. “You were the most beautiful of all of them.” He reached out with his free hand to cup Hisashi’s cheek. “You’re still more beautiful than any of them could ever be.”

The sun beat down directly overhead, and Hisashi was beginning to sweat. “I have to return,” he said, reluctant. But Futakuchi smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

“Not long now,” he promised.

“Not long now,” Hisashi repeated. He raised Futakuchi’s hand to press a kiss to each of his knuckles, then let it go. As he walked back through the endless grid of suburban streets, wishing he could see just one playing child or laughing couple, he glanced at the sky where hung the sun, heavy and red and ready to lash out.