#worldy stuff

come trick-or-treat in my inbox requesting ficcies and I’ll either treat you to some fluff or humor or trick you with a horribly twisted sad AU  (I’ll spin a coin to pick trick or treat)

Trick

Haruknew it wouldn’tbe the same. No matter how well the spell worked, the thing hebrought back would never be Sousuke. But he had to try anyway. Hecouldn’t live with the knowledge that he would wake up in themorning without him, couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing hiface again, of slowly forgetting what he looked like, what he soundedlike, what he felt like. So he clawed his way through the dirt as themoon shone full overhead. He dug and he dug until his fingers werebleeding and his nails scraped wood instead of soil.

Sousuke’scoffin was a beautiful thing, mahogany and silver befitting hisstation life. It mocked Haru, reminding him that he hadn’t doneenough, hadn’t been enough to save him. But not anymore. Now, Haruwas stronger, was more willing to do what it took.

Sohe set up the spell, black magic staining his soul with a sticky oozelike congealed blood. He ignored the voice in his head, the one thatsounded like Sousuke and Makoto and everyone he had ever lovedtelling him not to go this far, not to take a road from which therewas no return. He disregarded it entirely, and completed the spellwith the last little bit of his humanity as the sacrifice. The coffinshifted in the earth, its contents moving about in a jaunty, inhumanmanner. The lid lifted and Sousuke rose, beautiful as he had been theday he had died. He looked at Haru, with eyes that were a perfect seablue-green, but which held none of the life and laughter and lovethat Sousuke had had in life.

Takahiro’spalms were sweating. He had thought that was only something thathappened in books, like the tawdry romance novels Matsukawa read. Aheroine’s palms went slick when she saw her beloved returned fromthe war, the memory of their last fight and angry goodbyes stillringing in her head…

Reallife was nothing as dramatic as that. Real life was Takahiro and hissweaty palms and Watari looking at him like he was growing more andmore concerned for him, and shit, Takahiro had been staring at himtoo long, hadn’the-

“Hanamaki-senpai,is everything okay?” Watari asked. Takahiro swallowed hard and heldout one hand, fingers closed around his sweaty palm. Watari lookedmore confused than ever, but he held out his own hand in acceptance.Takahiro let drop his burden, and with it plummeted his heart, whichthen rose to pound in his throat. He wished he could take it back,but it was too late now; Watari was already pulling his hand back andlooking at the button in his own, not-sweaty palm in confusion.“Senpai?” Takahiro realized he was still holding his hand out andlet it drop to his side, too quickly.

“I,um.” Takahiro’s words died on his lips. Watari looked from thebutton in his hand to Takahiro’s blazer and back again.

“Senpai,aren’t you supposed to give this to someone you like?” Watariasked. “You know, the person closest to your heart and all that?”

“It’syou,” Takahiro blurted. “It’s always been you. I. Um. I do likeyou. Yeah.”

“Senpai,is this a joke?” Takahiro’s heart sank to somewhere around thelevel of his shoelaces. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

“Nota joke,” Takahiro said. “But also not an expectation or anything.I just. Thought you should know, before I go, and all that. But. Um.I’ll be going now.” He turned on his heel and started marchingaway, cursing himself for his own ineptitude.

Thenall of a sudden, a sweaty palm caught at his own.

“Senpai,”said Watari, tugging Takahiro to a stop. “Are you kidding me rightnow? First you drop something like this on me without a warning, andthen you leave before I can even answer?”

“Ididn’t want to pressure you-” Takahiro started, but a fierce lookfrom Watari silenced him.

“No,”Watari said. “You’re gonna hear me out, okay?” His grip onTakahiro’s hand tightened, then softened into something sweet andquestioning. Takahiro squeezed his hand back.

“Goahead,” He whispered.

“Ihave been waiting for two years for you to notice me,” Watarisnarled. “I have been in love with you from day one, and you do notget to just confess and then walk away like that. I demand a futuretogether, with dates and domesticity and hand-holding and kisses.Lots of kisses. So. Start now.”

“Ialready have,” Takahiro said, holding up their joined hands forWatari to see.

“Notwhat I meant,” Watari snapped. Takahiro grinned, leaning in close.

“Iknow it’s not,” he said, hovering just out of reach. Watarirolled his eyes and leaned up to close the distance between them.

Whenthey arrived at the team’sgraduation party a few hours later hand in sweaty hand, a cheer wentup around the room. But it was nothing compared to the celebration inTakahiro’s heart. He turned to grin at Watari, only to find Watarigrinning back at him.

Ithad been three months since Hisashi had seen his boyfriend, and thatwas three months too many. He stood at the entrance to the station,all but bouncing in place in his excitement. People prushed past himin either direction, but he only had eyes for one figure, emergingfrom the station and looming over everyone there.

“Wakatoshi!”yelled Hisashi. Ushijima caught sight of him and his entire face litup. He started toward Hisashi, trying to be polite to the peoplearound him but still shoving his way through the crowd. Hisashidarted forward and launched himself into Ushijima’s arms.

“Hisashi,”whispered Ushijima, holding him tight.

“We’remaking a scene,” Hisashi giggled, snuggling in closer.

“Ido not care,” Ushijima said. “I’ve missed you.”

“Imissed you too,” Hisashi said. The crowd thinned out around themand Hisashi pulled away at last. He stood looking up at Ushijima,drinking in his features like it was the first time he had ever seenthem. He smiled. “You’re growing a beard,” he said, reaching upto scratch playfully at the stubble around Ushijima’s jaw.

“Itwas not my intention,” Ushijima said. “My roommate stole my razoras a joke and I have not had the opportunity to purchase a new one.”

“Ikind of like it,” Hisashi said. “But then, I like your face nomatter what you do with it.”

“Ilike your face as well,” Ushijima said, smiling indulgently.Hisashi beamed up at him.

“Comeon,” he said. “Let’s get you home. Half your old team is atyour house, waiting for you.”

“Let’sgo to your house, then,” Ushijima said. Hisashi stopped in histracks.

“Wakatoshi,that would be rude,” he said, bewildered.

“Ido not care,” Ushijima said. “I have waited three months, oneweek, and four days to see you, and I do not intend to share you withanyone. Not even my former teammates.”

Hisashiwas aware in some part of his brain that they were still in public,but he couldn’tbring himself to care. He threw his arms around Ushijima’s neck andreeled him in for a kiss. Ushijima returned the kiss with a heatedfervor, drawing Hisashi close to him and clutching at the back of hisshirt. They only pulled apart with someone bumped into Ushijima’sshoulder, reminding them both of where they were. Hisashi flushed andtook Ushijima’s hand in his own.

“Youhave me,” he assured him. “You’ll have me all night if youwant, and all of tomorrow. You can stand to see your friends for afew hours.”

“Isuppose you are right,” Ushijima said, sounding petulant. Hisashigiggled.

“Comeon, you,” he said. “Let’s get you home.” Ushijima squeezedhis hand.

Noone really understood them. Not their families, not their bestfriends, certainly not their teammates. Most people took one look atthe heirs apparent of Sendai’s biggest rivalry and decided theyknew the entire story.

Butthey didn’t.They didn’t know this, the way Yahaba was so soft and warm when hewoke the morning after the first time he spent the night atRyuunosuke’s house. They didn’t know the way his hair was anabsolute disaster, but his smile could stop wars and start them allover again. They didn’t know what it felt like to be a part ofsomething like this.

“Hey,”Yahaba murmured, reaching up with one clumsy hand to wipe the sleepout of his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Early,”Ryuunosuke replied. He was sitting cross-legged on the foot of hisbed, facing Yahaba’s sweetly still form. Yahaba smiled at him, andhis heart stopped in his chest.

“Whatare you doing up?” It was a fond, incredulous question, like hecouldn’t believe Ryuunosuke would ever wake early of his ownvolition.

“Iwanted to see the sun rise,” Ryuunosuke answered. “I didn’tknow how early you got up, though, so I set my alarm for three-thirtyand I’ve been waiting ever since.”

“Thesunrise is at six,” Yahaba said, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Actuallyit was at about-” Ryuunosuke checked his watch. “Seven-twenty-four.That was when the light of my world appeared from the depths ofslumber and smiled at me.”

Yahabawas silent for a long moment. Then he threw a pillow at Ryuunosuke’sface. “Oh my god,” he cried, flopping onto his stomach andburying his face in the sheets. “Oh my god, you can’t just saythings like that!”

“Ijust did,” Ryuunosuke said, setting the pillow aside. He crawled upthe bed until he could reach Yahaba to press a kiss against his bare,bruise-covered shoulder.

“Ihave a reputation,” Yahaba grumbled. “Youhave a reputation. People can never know that such a sappy lineworked on me, do you understand?”

“Perfectly,babe,” Ryuunosuke murmured. “Now, we have a few more hours beforeNeesan wakes up. How do you want to spend them?”

“Hmm.Sleeping sounds good.” Yahaba craned his neck so that oneglittering eye peeped out at Ryuunosuke, alight with mischief.Ryuunosuke rose to the occasion and grabbed Yahaba by the hips,flipping him over.