#anyways morons that think these two idiots are going to drift apart are a whole different species that i don't understand | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freeseafirefly · 3 years

Text

Ob[li]vious (RinHaru fanfic)

Since I'm back to the fandom after a 7-years-hiatus (not that i ever stopped loving these idiots) and have just learned some exiting things like a new movie coming out on the date Harurinralia episode aired, RinHaru advertizing Tokyo Olympics merch etc, you can imagine what an emotional mess I am rn. Also, i've rewatched the anime and read some things i haven't yet read (like Season 1 novel), and all the feels are so fresh as if i'm back to 2014 T_T Thank you, Free!, for being my time machine. Thank you, RinHaru fandom, for being strong over the years, I love you all sfm T_T

Anyway, there's probably tons of RinHaru Olympics fanfiction (gonna catch up on it), but I couldn't help it once my head started imagining this. It's nothing much, no plot and non-native engrish, but i want to contribute something to this fandom, too. Also, it's probably a parallel universe cause it's Sydney Olympics. Idk. I just wanted it all in one :)

Read on AO3 or under the cut

“Haru…!” Rin chokes out as he claps his hand against the wall and watches the familiar slender shape cleave the air over his head, all in one heartbeat that seems like eternity.

It’s the same as in elementary school. The same as in the second grade of high school. As in a number of dreams Rin had over the years. The same, yet much, much louder.

...The crowds on the stadium lose their minds as Haru slices his way through to the end of the pool, a ferocious underwater lightning that seems to warp space and time themselves, and the moment he touches the wall the world goes white with noise.

Shining.

It’s the shining of the Olympic Gold.

Rin drifts back to reality, at least some limited version of it, to the feeling of Haru's body crushing against his in a stormy hug, and they're both screaming, God knows what, just as the rest of their relay team and the Olympic Sydney and probably the whole freaking world right now.

And Rin can almost process it, flashing before his eyes in an almost coherent sequence of images: years of ups and downs—Haru—their best team—his father’s proud shadow—Haru’s laughter—Japanese flags everywhere— But for an endless moment, the spinning world freezes, and it’s only him and Haru. Alone. They’re together in this place of dreams, right on the spot where Haru broke out of his shell and found his passion, eyes shining and wings unfurled; and Rin can barely breathe as he squeezes him in return, something irrepressible exploding in his chest. And Haru laughs , all tears and sweat and dripping water that leave a salty taste on Rin’s lips because at this moment, it seems only natural to press a kiss to the side of Haru’s neck and then breathe out: “We did it, Haru! We fucking did it...!”

He doesn't think about how gay it must look, and he doesn't have the time to, actually, because the next moment the world picks up full speed, and it's not just him and Haru but their whole team in a jumbled heap of dorks going nuts on the poolside because they have the fucking right.

The locker room is a mess, too. They sing and shout something jolly and off-key and victorious, kiss their gold medals, drink non-alcoholic beer because some of the guys still have races tomorrow, but Rin is still drunk and he can’t quite feel the ground under his feet. They have to sober up a bit for some government officials to congratulate them on the phone with high words about the honor of Japan and the historical achievement; then for the press to ask them some obligatory, obvious things. What do you mean what I’m feeling right now? I am HAPPY! What? Me kissing Haru? Of course I would kiss him all over again because WE FUCKING DID IT! Hey, Haru! But Haruka is not by his side as he’s probably answering some stupid questions, too, and Rin just laughs, blows kisses into the camera I LOVE YOU ALL! and rushes back to hook himself into the jumping circle of his precious teammates, coaches and staff, and sing the hymn once again.

The emotional burnout afterward is real. They walk down the street in deafening silence, he and Haru, just two ordinary guys in their everyday clothes as if they weren't THE BEST IN THE WORLD mere minutes ago. Hell, they still are. Rin can barely keep in the giggles that are bubbling in his chest. He feels like they’re some galactic heroes in disguise. It’s freaking awesome.

Haru is silent, though, probably still not quite back to it, or maybe he’s just being Haru again. Rin leaves him be.

Sydney fusses around them, colorful and bright, all dressed in olympic yet still the same familiar Sydney that once broke his bones and watched him drown with these bright cold eyes. Yet Rin loves Sydney. Look at me now, he thinks proudly. Look at me.

But Sydney doesn’t care to look, too busy in its daily routine, too large. They could’ve just taken a taxi to the station, but somehow, without sparing a word, they both decided it’s a walk. Sometimes Rin wonders if they’ve already reached that level of synchrony where they just don’t need words. It’s been years, after all. Mostly spent apart, but still. It’s not so hard to read Haru when you know him through. Not hard at all.

Yet now, he keeps dead-silent, and keeps not looking at Rin, and Rin begins to feel uncomfortable.

Is it that kiss, after all…?

Rin tries to think back, through his most recent memories which are a mashup of the wildest moments of his life, back to that moment. And his body immediately flushes with heat from the vividness of it.

...Haru’s skin is silky and smooth, and his wet hair are soft between Rin's fingers. Haru’s hands are squeezing Rin so tight there must be bruises on his back. Haru’s taste is… Haru-like. Rin can still sense it on his lips. He sucked it in too hungrily, absolutely in a non platonic way. At the mere thought, a sweet wave washes through his body from head to toe, making his every nerve buzz. Rin chokes on a breath and stumbles.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

Haru flinches slightly but still doesn’t look his way.

The reality begins to sink in. Rin is an idiot.

It does look gay. Totally.

Rin sees the photos on their train ride—mostly the screenshots various people mailed him—when he jams a cap over his hair and fishes his phone out of his pocket, absently going through his inbox. All the messages are a crazy mess of emoji and caps YOU DID IT WERE SO PROUD OF YOU and they all end up mentioning that kiss. Rin curses under his breath and switches his phone off.

Shit.

And of course, of course where they have to be heading now is that exact same room in that same freaking hotel because Haru called Rin on the night before their flight and said he must book it.

That was a joke, moron! Rin palmed his feverish face, for once relieved they're talking on the phone, no video.

Yeah, I figured, Haruka said, and Rin registered—or imagined?—notes of sadness in his voice. But I thought it's a nice idea for a good luck tradition…

How is it a good luck tradition if we can't stay there before the tournament? Rin moaned, because obviously, they would be living and training with the national team in the Olympic village, what is this airhead even thinking?

Then we'll stay there afterward, Haru said matter-of-factly. It's the intention that matters. Book it.

It won't be available anyway, Rin sighed with exasperation.

Do it, Rin.

And just like that, Rin succumbed and went on to book the damn room, his face hot and his heart jumping and missing beats. Because it’s one thing when it's a mistake, and it’s a whole other freaking thing to do that on purpose, clicking all the OK buttons under the "1 double bed" "ensuite bathroom" shit and the pictures of the said bed and the said bathroom behind the glass.

And of course, of course it just ought to be available for that exact date. Holy fuck.

There would be times when Rin would seriously consider confessing. He would even go through the most romantic places in his head and compose the most perfect, totally non cliched lines. In his imagination, it would all be sakura petals and city lightscapes, breathtaking views, fancy restaurants with the best mackerel dishes and—if he let his imagination wander off further—private pools and night beaches. He knew it obviously wasn’t a good idea, but he also knew he would jump into it someday. Probably. When they’ve achieved their dream and he’s desperate enough and—

And what? Haru—suddenly—likes him back?

Rin knew Haru liked him, probably even loved him, but not in that way. Obviously not in that way.

...But now, just like that, everything is out in the open, and there’s no meaning in confessions anymore. Rin clenches his sweaty hands as panic begins to engulf him, slowly like a tide.

They walk the last stretch past the quay, and somehow it feels so nostalgic as though they used to live here, not spent a couple of nights some years ago. The city skyline across the water is drowning in the purplish haze of the evening as the night draws closer. So does their destination. Rin feels nausea tugging at his insides.

His voice is a crack as he finally braces himself and says, “There on the poolside... Sorry. I lost it.”

It does not rip through the thick silence between them. Somehow, makes it even heavier.

...This is not how Rin pictured their post-victory evening. In his thoughts, it would be a blur of merry partying involving blissful laughter and bright sparkles in Haru’s eyes, as well as touching words of eternal friendship, team spirit and camaraderie; and the most intimate feeling of love finally intertwined with the joy of the achieved dream would be only for Rin to bask in, drown in, his deepest secret. It was never supposed to confuse and burden Haru. It was never supposed to come out for the whole world to behold.

Now, it must be all over the news. A spur-of-the-moment Olympic coming out... The Japanese Team lets passion speak after the dramatic victory... The Pride Flag rises high in the Olympic Sydney... Rin hisses under his breath.

He's fucking ruined it.

“It won't happen again. Ever,” he finds it important to add. Like it somehow can turn back the tide, fix things and make Haru—along with the rest of the world—just forget.

“Eh?” Haru's voice comes barely audible through the thick beats of pulse in Rin's ears, and the sound of his steps halts.

Haru...halts.

Rin flinches and turns around.

“Ever... Again...” Haruka's lips move without producing a sound. He still doesn’t look at Rin. The bangs fall over his eyes like a shadow.

Rin is confused.

...until something rings alert in his memory. It was one of Rei's talks while Rin was teaching him swimming on the evenings. “...He had been out of it ever since that loss to you. And in the Regionals, it's like he finally collapsed. ‘Will I never swim with Rin again...?’ He seemed devastated.”

Rin was... shaken once again by Rei's revelation. "I won. It means I don't have to swim with you ever again. Ever." He never knew his words had affected Haru that much back then.

It was another grain of hope, another detail Rin attached to his imaginary “signs puzzle”, too eager and incautious. He knew it was a bad idea, he fucking knew it right from the start, and today it finally overflowed, breaking through the barrier of his self-control.

“Ever. Again.” Haru repeats in a firmer voice, his lips twitching in a scoff. And when he raises his head at last, his eyes are a flash of blue blazing Rin’s heart: “Are you chickening out now?”

Rin gulps. Heat flushes the back of his neck. “I’m not...! It’s my fault, ok. You don’t have to comment on it to the press. Just tell them they can go to hell. I’ll do the explaining.” It’s my fault. You shouldn’t be dragged through that shit. You can’t let it affect you, Haru…

“Rin.” He still can’t read through the calmness of Haru’s voice, and maybe even Makoto wouldn’t. “It is you who cares about these things. I never did.”

...and Rin feels all the air being squeezed out of his lungs. He’s back to that horrible, devastating moment in the dark changing room when Haru yelled at him almost the exact same words, “What future? What dreams? It’s you who cares about these things! I’m not like you...!”

Rin forces air back into his lungs. Now, Haru seems rather steady. It is Rin’s voice that trembles as he says, “Like hell you don’t care… wasn’t it you who stopped in the middle of the pool once because of all the pressure?”

“It wasn’t because of the pressure,” Haru denies right away. "It was because I couldn’t understand why I must feel pressured. I just wanted to swim. Not to please the public.”

“You mean… This thing now doesn’t bother you either?”

“Why must it?”

Rin chuckles as he exhales, “Right. You’re the guy who would undress in the middle of a shop to dive into an aquarium, after all…”

Rin's knees almost give out with relief. He’s been an idiot to fear that Haru may leave this path—the path he’d once chosen and never wavered since then—just because of some stupid public scrutiny. And no, Haru's also wrong, because this shit doesn't really bother Rin on itself—but only as far as it affects Haru.

Haruka just nods seriously, his eyes—deadly focused blue lasers—never leaving Rin’s. “If this issue is settled, let’s talk about the important stuff. You kissed me, Rin.”

“I-I thought we’ve just been talking about it,” Rin says in a small voice, panic returning and hitting him like a wave. Right. Publicity is one thing; but what happened between them still stands, and it can't be brushed away just like that. “Haru… I’m sorry. I was carried away by all the feels. It's nothing. It’s not like I… want anything, you know…” he trails off.

Breathe, Rin. Just breathe.

“So, you are chickening out. Even with the gold medal on your chest.”

“I’ve said that I’m not!” Rin clenches his fists in desperation. "God, what do you want me to say now? The obvious? Wanna laugh at my misery...?” No, Haru wouldn’t laugh, he would feel guilty and sad, like that winter when they were 13, and it’s even worse. “Want it to ruin everything we’ve achieved together...?”

“Ruin?” Haru closes the distance between them in a few firm steps like he means it, and halts only when they’re inches apart. Are they being too loud...? Right, they’re still on the quay… Rin backs off until his ass bumps against the railing. But Haru probably wants to push him into the water because he closes those last inches, too, and presses their foreheads together. “Ruin...like this?” his breath soughs across Rin’s parted lips, “—or maybe like this?” And then it’s not just air, but a touch, too. Hot, angry, gentle, wet, greedy— short. Too short. “You’re such a drama queen, Rin.”

...Passers-by continue walking past them as if the world hasn’t just shaken and ground to a halt. Nobody even looks their way. Ok, this is Sydney, not Iwatobi, not like it’s too big of a deal here, two guys standing like this on the quay and— wait, what…?!

“Haru… Do you… too…”

“Obviously. I do.”

“Since when…?”

“Since forever. I thought you knew.”

“Me? Knew…?” Rin barely recovers enough to peel his hands off the metal and clasp them on Haru’s forearms lest he disappears, and everything is another dream, and Rin is the biggest idiot again. “How on earth? Why couldn’t you just say anything?”

“...wasn’t sure you feel the same,” Haru grumbles.

“Oh? Wasn’t it obvious ?” Rin asks in a mocking voice.

“It kinda was.” Haru is still agonizingly close, just enough a distance to look into each other’s eyes, yet he keeps glancing down at Rin’s lips, and each of these glances releases a jar of butterflies in Rin’s stomach. “You’ve been staring at me with these lovestruck eyes since elementary. But it also could have been that you’re just an idiot, so.”

Rin digs his nails into his skin, outraged but too messed up to come up with a witty response in a second, since another second Haru adds, his voice soft and suddenly not so confident anymore: “Anyway... I was afraid to screw up everything, and before the Olympics, too.”

“Now who is the drama queen?” Rin whispers, tentatively sliding his hands up Haru’s arms, sensing goosebumps popping up under his fingertips.

“It’s still you,” Haru smiles and kisses the tear off Rin’s eyelashes.

I want to add the hotel part, of course, once i finish it. So, let me know what you think about it so far! Love you all <3

#rinharu #harurin #rin matsuoka #nanase haruka #sharkbait #free!#free! fanfiction #my fic

21 notes · View notes

virginiacreepervine · 5 years

Text

A body washed up on Bell Isle this morning. Average height, average build. White guy with pierced ears, a few tattoos, shoulder length hair. Wouldn’t stand out in a Richmond crowd. Calloused hands and the slight beer gut suggest a blue collar job...in fact, he was a plumber. He was my brother. In a sense. People always looked at us funny when I told them; there’s no resemblance whatsoever, and we’re clearly pretty close in age. When you’ve been close with someone for twenty years, I figure you’re either family, or lovers, and our parents being married would’ve made the latter more than a little awkward. People hate it when I make that joke, makes ‘em real uncomfortable, but hey, that just makes it funnier for me. The cops are ruling it a suicide on account of him being full of liquor, with no other wounds to speak of, and my idiot mother admitted he had a history of self harm. Now I know the guy had some troubles earlier in life, but getting drunk, driving to a bridge and throwing himself off? Not his style. Dude was impatient, and I’ve had to take guns from him before. Drowning is too slow, especially in that part of the river this time of year. Dude could have stood up and stumbled to drunken safety, right next to the moonshine distillery. Shouldn’t he have broken something in a fall like that? People tell me denial is just part of the grieving process, but I know bullshit when I smell it. My grandpa has a farm. Steph is just beside herself. Literally. Ever since that accident with truck filled with ooze of dubious origin she’s had a double inches from her at all times. It doesn’t speak and it isn’t fully corporeal, but its there, standing, mimicking Steph’s expressions and movements. She’s real easy to see driving down the street too, but people learned to deal with it. Anyway, she’s (they’re?) in my bar, saying she believes me. I tell her what everyone tells me, its the grief, but she says that he hadn’t drank anything that night. More importantly, he fell asleep on top of her and she would’ve noticed if he moved. That’s not what I’ve heard, but I didn’t say that out loud. What kind of guy would tell a grieving widow her deceased husband was hung like a field mouse? Don’t answer that, I know. He was my brother though, so I couldn’t bring myself to shit on him, lest his angry ghost fuck up my bar. “So,” I muttered, “what do you want me to do about it? The fuzz had their say, case closed. This ain’t a mystery I can solve. What do I look like, Scooby Doo? Don’t answer that.” “No, asshole, you don’t look like a fucking cartoon dog. But I know when weird shit happens, you’re the guy to talk to.” She starts crying something fierce before continuing. “That’s what Mike always said at least” “Alright, fuck you. First of all, Scoobert Doobert is a legend, beloved by all, and I will not have you reducing his existence to ‘cartoon dog’ in my establishment. Second, how DARE you come at me while I grieve, trying to use my dead brother’s name to guilt trip me into something.” We stared at each other a long while. She’s crying, I’m crying, it’s a mess. I don’t know if it was the grief or the extreme need to get this crying woman (women?) out of my bar before the usual drunks start wandering in, but I caved. “Fine. Fuck it, fine. Let me make sure I have the facts straight; Y’all do the deed, he passes out on top of you. Next, he gets up and has a little drink, drives down Belvedere and parks by the memorial center, and jumps off a bridge.” “Yeah, but we know that last part didn’t happen, I would’ve noticed him move.” “Okay, fine, but that just makes it sound like you did it. How long until you woke up and noticed he wasn’t there?” She doesn’t look happy at that one. I’m a real charmer, I know. She goes on. “Around 11 A.M., when I got the call about...” she drifts off, starts crying again. Either a great actress killed my brother, or she’s trying really hard to keep it together. Her double hovers by, a mourning mirror making me feel even worse about not trying harder sooner. I interrupt, eager to get this over with. “And what time did you fall asleep?” A solid minute later, she wipes away the snot and tears. How come its always snot? Really makes a person feel worse about themselves when a booger is sliding down their face with the tears. “Oh, about ten p.m.” “You laid there for thirteen hours and still think you would’ve noticed? I’ll level with you, this whole thing seems fishier by the minute. You’re wrong, or lying, but I’m gonna be a fool and believe you for his sake. Go home and get some rest, I’m gonna head out and ask a few questions.” She thanks me and heads out, leaving a trail of tears and snot in her wake. I call my staff, tell them not to come in tonight. After the final “Fuck you, I need my hours!”, I head into the storage closet where I keep my “Closed on account of Some Bullshit” sign, grab it and walk towards the door to hang it up. Only I don’t. There’s someone behind the bar, and they’re naked. “Not again,” I think, before getting a closer look at the creep. There he is, tiny pecker and all. My brother.

“Man if you’re gonna haunt me could you at least haunt me with some clothes on? I don’t need ghost pubes around the joint if a health inspector shows up. Don’t you dead assholes usually have, like, some rags or a sheet or something?” Much to my annoyance, he responds. “Nah, the sheets look too much like the KKK getup. Makes people uncomfortable.” A startling realization. Old timey ghosts are super racist. Also, he’s very clearly alive. Ghosts ain’t got much of a sense of humor. “You asshole, you’re fucking alive?! Tell ya what, after I whip your naked ass, you’re gonna call everyone and apologize. This is ridiculous.” The supposedly dead streaker backs into the shelf behind the bar, hands up. In a shaky, scared voice he says “N-no, you can’t. No one can know I’m alive! I got people after me, Conner, I had to fake my death.” I pinch the bridge of my nose so hard that I’m sure I’ve left a bruise. “Fuckin’ okay, what the hell was the body they found?” “I had that hoodoo woman that was always screaming at people on Broad Street hook me up with a little something. You don’t know what its made of, but the people at the morgue are gonna be in for a surprise tomorrow.” I don’t ask any questions about that part, everyone knows that old bat had some weird shit going on. “Sure, but whoever is after you is gonna find out too. Now to the important question, why in the fuck are you naked in my bar?” “I put my clothes on the thing so it’d look authentic, then I creeped in here through that back window you always forget to lock.” “So,” I start, pinching the bridge of my nose again. “You managed to creep two and a half miles in the dead of night, through downtown Richmond? And no one saw you?” “Oh some people saw me. I’m just too fast, the cops could never catch me.” As he explains, I hang the sign up. Can’t have some poor customer catch me arguing with a naked ghost, would really hurt the business. Then, I lay into him for a good twenty minutes about what a moron he is, as this plan is garbage from start to finish, almost like some hack writer couldn’t think of anything better. I also hand him some clothes I keep in storage in a bin labeled “lost and found”, as if anyone ever comes looking for the stuff. You’d be amazed at the shit people leave lying around here and never come looking for. Clothes, wallets, a weird book with a lock on it that I haven’t had the balls to crack open yet. Sometimes guns, sometimes pictures of people I’ve never seen. All doomed to life in a closet. He tells me the people after him are part of the same gang I ran with as a teenager, the Pale Horse Motorcycle Club. That makes things less complicated. I’d talk to John, the boss of the gang, and get it all sorted out. That asshole owes me a few times over anyway. I let the dead prick use a few padded bras from the lost and found (seriously, who in the fuck leaves those on the ground and how didn’t I notice?) for a pillow and let him rest. My apartment is only a few blocks down the street, so I walk on home. I open the door and notice something feels off. The place is smoky, which isn’t super out of the ordinary, but the smell is way worse than normal. I take a deep breath and place the heavy, cloying scent as cigar smoke. “Look,” I say to the black abyss that is my home this time of night, “if you’re that guy from the other night, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. You just seemed like you’re into freakier shit than I can deal with.” The person in my armchair strikes a match. I catch a few features; Bushy black beard, oily tan skin, glasses. “Hey John, thought you’d be stopping by. Didn’t have to-” “I did have to. You know we’re all about imagery. Now sit down, lets talk.” Instead of humoring him, I pull a knife on him. This isn’t some Hollywood picture, can’t take any chances. Mistake on my end though, as the last thing I remember of that night is getting hit in the head, hard, and feeling my carpet rush up to meet me.

1 note · View note

its-love-u-asshole · 7 years

Text

Unbound [Ch. 2]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki

Rating: T

Summary: Summer is Yata’s favorite time of the year in his town, a place where it normally rains nonstop nine months out of the year. It doesn’t help that the town is marred by old legends and tales which do nothing to make it less creepy and drab. Essentially, summer is Yata’s chance to forget superstitions and finally hit the beach. Apart from deciding what he wants to do with his life, all he wants is to enjoy it with his friends and maybe get to know Fushimi Saruhiko, a stranger who Yata can’t help but feel drawn to. However, the summer has more in store for him than usual, and he’s never been one to back down.

Note: I was really surprised by the support I got on this fic, so thanks to everyone who commented and showed interest in this story! Also it’s Yata-chan’s birthday! My sunshine child ; ; I hope this is enough of a celebration for him lol. Enjoy!

AO3

The waterfront near the mall was barren, a huge contrast to the large crowds not even a mile away from it. The sun reflected off the water, shedding light on the old and rusted oil drums and pipes littered about the glistening body. There weren’t any animals, not large ones anyways. Yata could hear crickets though, and various other bugs along with the rustling in the low brush. The sand was tarnished with unidentifiable black gunk and cigarettes, a picturesque scene which was left to rot by civilization as industry took its toll on the land.

Or at least, that was what he’d heard a teacher say once in elementary school.

Saruhiko led him away from the water and around an imperceptible bend by the large rocks, placing them in front of a large tunnel Yata had never seen before in all his years of skulking around the place.

“Whoa…where does it go?” Yata’s voice was laced with childlike wonder as he peered into the seemingly never ending tunnel. Normally he may have felt frightened despite his bravery, after all, people were rumored to have died here, eaten up by monsters and legends from old ghost tales. Other rumors told of real villains, murderers and killers that let their victims decompose or sink into the waters nearby. But having Saruhiko there, who seemed rather knowledgeable about the place, made Yata feel strangely calm and relaxed.

The taller smiled. It was a small kind of grin, one that was both amused and…something else that sent Yata’s heart racing despite his best efforts to keep it under control.

“I’ll show you,” Saruhiko said, gesturing for Yata to begin strolling down the path. The redhead nodded, an excited grin forming on his face as he trailed his fingers along the frigid walls of the tunnel. Saruhiko followed, almost right by his side, but lagging a step behind.

Ever since leaving the mall, they hadn’t talked much, but it had been far from awkward. Yata had barely noticed the lack of small talk, and was actually sort of grateful for it. The short walk from the mall had seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and it was a strange sense of comfort he’d never had with anyone before.

Despite the relaxed silence from before, now Yata was buzzing with questions, and he was sure his excitement showed.

“How did you even know this was here? It’s awesome!” Yata looked at the other, and Saruhiko fixed his glasses in thought. It was a cute habit, in Yata’s opinion. As he waited, he swung his hands at his side, only stopping when he happened to brush against Saruhiko’s hand several times. He was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting. The only source were the streams of the day’s last sunlight which managed to drift in through the cracks of the tunnel, giving the space an otherworldly feel.

“The streets in the city are pretty bad, there’s accidents all the time,” Saruhiko began with a shrug. “It’s just less dangerous this way…”

The other seemed to hesitate after that, and Yata could tell the sentence wasn’t meant to end there, but the other had purposefully halted before providing an ‘and’. Like some weird type of insurance…

He wondered for a second if it was alright to ask. After all, sometimes people had super personal reasons for why they did the things they did. However, Saruhiko was someone Yata couldn’t help but wonder about, and so he figured it’d be worth it.

“What?” Yata raised an eyebrow, his question echoing throughout the tunnel along with their footsteps.

The other didn’t respond, only making a nervous, humming noise, as if that would appease Yata. Wrong.

Yata spun around, blocking the other’s path. The echoing on the walls stopped as they ceased walking, and Yata eyed Saruhiko warily. Come to think of it, maybe walking down a dark tunnel with a reserved and total stranger hadn’t been the best idea. But the boy was so frail and laid back Yata doubted he was a threat. No, he was eyeing him for other reasons. Saruhiko wasn’t acting suspicious…he was acting embarrassed.

Yata spotted the subtle fidgeting of Saruhiko’s hands, the repeated fixing of his glasses. And then the real sign, the light shade of red dancing on his cheekbones.

Yata smirked then, peering at Saruhiko with eyes that seemed to say, ‘spit it out.’

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “I was thinking I could show it to you. In case you and your hoodlum ways got you into trouble again.”

The last statement almost felt tacked on, spoken a tad faster than the previous. It was so slight, but Yata noticed. Saruhiko’s eyes were averted to the strange markings on the tunnel wall, and that was when it clicked.

A curse began and quickly died on the tip of Yata’s tongue as he processed the response, and he stood still, blinking stupidly for several moments. Saruhiko clicked his tongue, taking the opportunity to maneuver around Yata and continue walking down the path.

That seemed to bring him back, and Yata turned with a stumble, catching up to the other boy in a few quick strides. “E-eh? You’ve…I mean…hm…”

Yata flushed at his loss for words, since when did he hide what he was thinking? But he didn’t feel confident in voicing his assumptions, no matter how obviously correct they probably were.

You’ve wanted to show me? Since the other week?

Yata couldn’t help the pleased feeling which ran through him, even despite the embarrassment.

“B-but you just met me and—”

And we’re technically not friends, not yet.

His friends’ teasing from before flashed through his mind, but now it seemed suddenly more plausible. Was Saruhiko actually interested in him for real?

That pleased feeling involuntarily intensified.

The other groaned, and his shoulders tensed, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “I frequent the Eastside Park.”

Yata’s internal crisis was put on hold as those words sunk in, and he squinted in confusion as he watched Saruhiko absentmindedly trace over some weird symbols on the wall.

Okay, what the hell? The park?

“And…?”

Saruhiko rolled his eyes, like Yata had completely missed some obvious conclusion from the poor excuse for an explanation.

“And, you and your thug friends hang out in that park a lot,” Saruhiko grumbled, still stiffly walking in front of Yata. His feet, clad in ratty, faded converse, dragged, and the mild scrapping bounced off the curved walls.

“Hey my friends aren’t thugs! We just—”

“Graffiti public property?”

“Spray painting isn’t what I would call a dangerous crime, who c—”

Yata stopped suddenly, connecting the dots.

“I frequent the Eastside Park.”

The park. The park where he hung out with his friends at least once every week.

What?

The lightbulb went off, and Yata felt his stomach explode with a garden’s worth of butterflies.

Wait, no! That’s weird!

“Y-you’ve been watching me?” Yata sputtered, slowing his pace.

“I never said that, I just happen to see you…often,” Saruhiko muttered the last of his sentence, shoulders tensing another degree, having Yata vaguely wondering if his back was in pain. Stand up straight idiot.

“The fuck? You’re my stalker now then?”

Saruhiko actually scoffed at that, turning to face Yata as he walked backwards. His face was flushed, Yata saw as Saruhiko passed through a beam of light, but there was still an unbearably smug smile on the taller’s face. “Yeah right. My…friend, I suppose, owns a house on the edge of the park, therefore I’m there a lot. And, it’s just hard to ignore someone so loud.”

Yata scowled, quickening his steps once more until he was close to the other boy again. Who knew how long or fast they’d actually been walking. Yata had stopped paying attention. “Oh, but you were thinking ‘bout showing me this place huh? I still say you’re a stalker!”

Another scoff, and Saruhiko was pouting, giving Yata all kinds of weird rushes of feeling which he did not want to think about.

“I’m not a stalker moron, I only noticed you about two weeks ago. It’s not like I’ve been staring at you for months or anything,” Saruhiko mumbled.

“Doesn’t explain why you’d be staring at me for two weeks either,” Yata supplied, eyeing the other with caution.

Well, no, Yata wasn’t that stupid. He somewhat knew why the taller would’ve been looking at him, but entertaining the idea had Yata flushing something fierce. It was obvious that Saruhiko wasn’t the type to come out and own up to it either, so Yata was forced to stew in his own awkwardness.

He hated to admit it, but this strange form of flirting was surprisingly easy…if it was flirting. It felt like it, but maybe it was only from his end. What did Yata know though? He didn’t have experience with this shit.

In all honesty, Yata had never thought about…girls before, or even guys. He figured no one had sparked his interest yet, and that was why crushes weren’t on his mind. But now, having the tall, slim form of Saruhiko swaying in front of him was making him feel a whole new realm of emotions. Not that he had a problem with…with…being like that with someone, but he’d rather think about it alone than with the possible object of his…affections…only a few feet in front of him. Plus, admitting that his stupid friends were actually right was a serious hit to his dignity.

“I happened to be people watching, and you were more entertaining than my associate’s old stories,” Saruhiko explained as he faced forward, though not very convincingly.

“Uh huh…” Yata squinted at the other’s back. “And you wanted to show me this because? The real reason I mean.”

Well shit, that was bold, even for him. Yata couldn’t help it, and anyways, he didn’t like people giving him bullshit.

Saruhiko huffed, his demeanor suddenly annoyed at the turn of the conversation. Gotcha. Yata smiled smugly, a light feeling of triumph coursing through him.

Saruhiko fixed his glasses again, his pace slowing until they were walking side by side. “Don’t ask questions you apparently know the answers to,” he muttered, and Yata’s heart skipped. What the hell? He’d just met this guy, it shouldn’t feel like such an achievement to get that kind of admission.

“Plus,” Saruhiko went on, his face becoming clearer as more sunlight began to shine down on him. “I don’t really like nature, but this shortcut ends at the park, and it’s not too bad.”

“What do ya—”

It was then Yata realized they’d reached the end of the tunnel, and he was shocked at how he hadn’t even noticed, too focused on the other’s voice. It had almost felt too fast, how had they made it this far only on foot? The tunnel really was a shortcut…

The sun, now harsh and blinding, made him squint as he walked out onto the grass. He was taken aback by the chilling breeze that greeted him, for it had been absent in the shelter of the tunnel. He gasped, staring at the beautiful, open field which was part of Eastside Park. It was a more desolate section of the area, the kind where children rarely frolicked due to the lack of playgrounds and benches. It was untouched, flooded with flowers and vibrant foliage.

Whoa.

Yata had been feeling pretty ‘whoa’ all day it seemed. He withdrew from the tunnel completely, taking in the landscape. The faint sounds of traffic reached his ears, and he turned to his right, noticing the main road just in the distance. The main road that would take him right to his home if he followed it. Awesome.

Even with the lush land, Yata still noted the complete lack of animals. No birds, no squirrels or rodents. Lucky for Yata though, since he could totally see himself lounging around the area for a nap. Dusk would soon be settling on the park, and the vivid blues and pinks of the common flowers would lose their brightness. A shame, but Yata had no doubt that he’d be spending a lot of daylight hours there now anyways.

Yata looked to Saruhiko then, who was now leaning against a tree in the field, staring at Yata with that same, serene smile from before. Yata grinned, approaching him.

“You’re gonna have to show me more shortcuts, I’m going to hold you to it!” Yata couldn’t believe how much faster the walk home would be now that he knew about the secret path, and he was extremely grateful for meeting Saruhiko in that moment.

“Even though I’m a stalker?” Saruhiko smirked, pushing away from the tree and inching closer to Yata. Despite the cold, Yata could feel the warmth just a few inches in front of him, it had Yata leaning forward slightly with its enticement.

“You just gotta make it up to me dumbass!”

Yata didn’t know what compelled him to make such an invite to see the other again, but Saruhiko seemed cool, and he caused Yata’s curiosity to spike. Teasing from his friends and internal panic be damned, he didn’t see the harm in hanging out again.

Saruhiko gave a pleased hum, sidestepping Yata and beginning his trek in the opposite direction of the road, and Yata figured he or his friend must live more towards the inner part of the neighborhood.

As Saruhiko walked off into the distance he turned, calling out to Yata one last time. “When exactly will I be making it up to you?”

Really, Yata wished Saruhiko could stay longer, but he’d settle for any other time if it meant more exploring.

However, Yata suddenly remembered he had a few errands to run on Sunday, as he traditionally did for his mother. The shops where she got her ingredients were nearer to the center of town, at the border right before the richer suburban neighborhoods started.

“How about tomorrow? We can go to central?”

Saruhiko bit his lip, and Yata thought he saw an uncharacteristic flash of worry in those usually neutral eyes, but it was there and gone before he could make much sense of it.

Saruhiko nodded, gesturing to the surrounding area, silently suggesting they meet back at the same spot. Yata nodded, and then they were both off in their separate directions, leaving Yata feeling giddy in a way he never had before.

“How did it—”

“Shut it,” Saruhiko interrupted, slamming the door to Douhan’s house with no regard for the old structure’s protests. He’d been expecting this. “You shouldn’t know about any ‘it’ in the first place.”

But she always did. He also didn’t know why she bothered to ask how it went. She tended to have a way of reading him, and right now he couldn’t hide the aura of stupid bliss which was no doubt radiating off him.

All because of a stupid meetup, because of a promised next one. Whatever.

Douhan smiled at him knowingly, proving his suspicions. However, there was a limit to the things she should’ve known. He hadn’t told her about going anywhere today.

Saruhiko wouldn’t give her so much credit as to say the skill was born from natural intuition or social prowess either. Slowly, he let his eyes drift over to her living room, catching sight of the coffee rings staining her table and the old photo albums she insisted on keeping. He never understood why.

Among all the mess though, there were two chipped mugs, half full. Fresh.

He thought it was strange for the door to be unlocked. It meant she hadn’t had time after the home’s previous visitor had left. Judging from the partial spill on the table and the tripped over side stand, they’d left rather hastily too.

That’s mature.

Douhan followed his gaze, not at all bothered about the obvious discovery. She was a private person, but when it came to sharing things between them, she preferred to not have any blind spots.

“Gossiping again?” Saruhiko asked as he walked towards the guest room. He was tired, more so than usual, but he wouldn’t think about why that was. Absentmindedly, he drifted his hand over one of the blonde’s bookcases as he walked, noting how it was in desperate need of reorganizing.

Douhan shrugged. “Not so much gossiping as listening. Fuse came over here to vent about how childish you’re being, but I’m sure you already suspected that…”

The silent question didn’t escape him, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with his social problems. It was hardly his fault that before he’d gone to the mall, Fuse had approached him, infuriated about things which didn’t matter.

It had erupted to nothing less than a full out fight, and he didn’t know how to go about resolving it. He was hardly used to having any disagreements with the other, at least not anymore. Regardless of the issue, he wasn’t exactly ready to share any of that with Douhan yet.

Well, she probably already knew. Still, hopefully simple answers would suffice.

“We had a disagreement, nothing more. He should mind his own business,” Saruhiko grumbled, moving to open the bedroom door, his only chance of relief from all this. “You all should actually.”

Douhan actually snorted at that, and he sent her a flat look. Why did these discussions have to be uselessly prolonged every time?

She shook her head, finally moving to begin picking up her living room in a rare show of care for the decaying property. It was a normal thing to do after the end of a conversation, but Saruhiko was compelled to stay. After all this time, he knew when the blonde had said her piece, and he also knew when he could afford to not hear it.

This was apparently not one of those times.

“You know that’s not possible when it comes to you,” she said, but her voice was softer, fonder, and he neither had the will nor the energy to scorn it. So instead he clicked his tongue, and finally moved inside the room, refusing to acknowledge how deep down, he probably appreciated it. Maybe.

As he took a step, a sharp pain shot through his side, and he wasn’t fast enough to hide his instantaneous wince. Great…

He clutched his hip, closing his eyes tightly as the pain took its course through his bones and muscles. Saruhiko tried not to groan when he was relieved from the agony after a few moments. Cautiously, he stood up straight again, testing for any aftershocks. When there were none, he gave a relaxed sigh which was completely short lived.

Now he had another issue to deal with.

Saruhiko’s hand was frozen on the door handle, and he could feel Douhan’s eyes boring into his back, searing. He scolded himself for not hiding the reaction faster, for letting her keep him out in the open, but maybe that had been her plan all along.

He was ready for the lecture, for the advice which normally came with stuff like this. It was his own fault sure, but he didn’t need people meddling in his affairs. He was ready with his counter arguments, ready to ease her of any worry, to tell her he was fine.

But he didn’t have to.

After another beat of the strained silence, Douhan just sighed deeply behind him, continuing to pick up her littered coffee table. She only paused one more time afterwards, and he was grateful. “This is why we worry. Don’t overdo it.”

And that was all that had to be said apparently, and the tension between them dissolved as if by magic. Funny, how she could do that.

Saruhiko sighed, not seeing any cause in fighting the demand for now. Right then, he preferred to be alone with his own thoughts of Misaki, and the butterflies swirling obnoxiously in his stomach. He turned back to walk into his room, when one last teasing, sugary statement hit his ears.

“Have fun on your next date.”

“Home early again?” Yata’s mother’s voice drifted to his ears as he walked through the door, and he took a seat at the kitchen table idly, triumphant. It had been a good week.

“Yeah, I took a quicker way home someone showed me,” Yata replied with a smile.

“Someone?” His mother paused in her task of looking through the mail, her gaze questioning. Right, his mother always had to be nosy.

Yata rubbed the back of his head, trying his best not to look embarrassed. The last thing he needed was his mom meddling in his personal life.

“Yeah, just this friend I ran into at the mall an—”

“Misaki! You didn’t tell me you were going to the mall!”

Yata flinched at the higher tone of voice, and he held up his hands defensively. “W-what? Did you need something from the mall?”

As he spoke, he was aware of his younger brother skulking into the kitchen, his face pouty and annoyed.

“Well, there was that construction accid—Minoru! I told you, you aren’t allowed to have any sweets tonight!”

Yata laughed from his position at the table as his brother sighed, having been effectively caught. He felt sort of sympathetic, but better his brother get scolded than Yata himself. “What did you do now Minoru?”

“Nothing,” Minoru mumbled, kicking at the floor. “Just broke a few cups…”

“A few? You broke a whole case of them!” His mom had her hands on her hips now, continuing to reprimand her younger son. Again, at least it saved Yata. “If you don’t watch out, the shadow beast will get you!”

Minoru seemed to pout more at that, and Yata was sure the younger would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t afraid of getting in more trouble. “Mom, c’mon! I’m way too old for that story. Plus, the shadow beast only comes when you’re about to die remember?”

His mother hummed, nodding slowly, her expression marred with struggle to remember details of the story she’d told them throughout their childhoods. “Oh, you’re right. I used to have that story down too…to think one day you’d know it better than me.”

“Kind of a brutal story to tell kids don’t ya think?” Yata jumped into the conversation with a laugh. “Even I remembered being terrified when you told it to me as a kid.”

“Past tense? You know the old legend would still scare you if I told it,” his mom said with a smirk. “In fact Misaki, you’ve always been against any kind of scary st—”

“Mom! Stop okay? It’s embarrassing,” Yata protested, yet it was for nothing as his mother’s loud laugh carried throughout the house.

Central always made Yata a bit uncomfortable. It was closer to the rich neighborhoods, meaning more snobby and better dressed kids roamed about, sometimes giving him the once over and laughing. It caused Yata to want to sink into the ground. Not that he really cared what they thought, he couldn’t give two shits. Those people didn’t know him anyways, it was more the unwanted attention which got to him.

Central was fun however, given that it had nicer shops, large parks, and tourist spots. It also got the best produce brought to the grocery stores, so Yata’s mother often sent him there to pick up prime ingredients. When he was younger, Yata and his friends would hang out around the supposedly haunted spots in the area, mostly against Yata’s will, as he was usually forced there. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Yata despised going near anything considered paranormal. It was hard to avoid though, since central was the historic hotspot of the area.

Yata had been worried initially about going there with Saruhiko. Maybe the other would be into that kind of thing, and Yata would have to pretend to not be freaked out about going on graveyard tours and shit. He felt lame about it to this day. What kind of grown man actually believed that stuff anymore?

Luckily, Saruhiko had been pretty against the idea, staring at the fancy, historic homes with disdain as they passed them on the way into town.

"You don't think they're cool?" Yata quirked a brow, trying for the hundredth time to not automatically lean in Saruhiko's direction. The walk hadn't been uncomfortable, in fact, they weren't even in town and Yata was having fun. Saruhiko listened to him talk about his favorite games and movies, even his friends' stupid adventures. In between, they took to bickering playfully in a way which made Yata laugh and flush occasionally. It was hard to resist his weird urge to grab Saruhiko's hand when their fingers brushed, or nudge the other with his shoulder when he strayed too close...

Stop it, you just met him! This isn't even a date...

Regardless, Yata couldn't ignore the magnetic pull between them, and he'd been mindfully making sure he was at least a feet or two away as they walked side by side. Yata had originally asked Saruhiko to take them through another shortcut, since the usual way to central was pretty congested, and it was the first time he'd seen Saruhiko look unenthusiastic about the prospect. The taller had clicked his tongue, but had relented in the end upon seeing Yata's perplexed and mildly disappointed face. Yata didn't understand the dislike for the neighborhood they were in, but then again, he couldn't say he loved the place.

It was the historic district, the street lined with old mansions with plaques in front of them, telling when it was constructed and who had lived there. It wasn't deserted, summer was the tourist season after all, but it was far more peaceful than the typical way.

The mansions, white and beige and grand, towered over the small tour groups as he and Saruhiko walked by. Yata shivered when he caught the words "haunted" coming from one of the guides. Yeah, no way did he love these homes. They were pretty though, he was sure his mom would love them. The intricate designs and restored pillars almost made it seem like they had been transported to another time.

"They're just houses," Saruhiko mumbled, scowling at the obnoxious neon signs which directed people to pay good money for a house tour. "I don't see what the big deal is." It was almost cute how pouty Saruhiko sounded, and Yata grinned as the other busied himself with staring at the sidewalk.

Yata thought about that as they passed though, admiring the flowerbeds and wide lawns in front of each house, barred off by black iron and 'no trespassing' signs. "Maybe it's the haunted thing, or people are just history nerds," Yata snorted, and he was delighted when Saruhiko did too. His skin felt hot when Saruhiko grinned in amusement, and damn, damn your face Saruhiko. Yata loved being able to pull new reactions out of him. They'd only been hanging out for a while, but every grin or smirk was a personal triumph and each had Yata's heart racing.

"Only idiots believe those houses are actually haunted," Saruhiko went on, not bothering to look both ways when he crossed the street. Yata had half a mind to scold him, but didn’t want to interrupt. Be more careful...

"They act like serial killers lived there, when it was just old fat aristocrats,” Saruhiko finished, his eyes sharp.

Yata tried not to be too offended, given he did believe in the paranormal, mostly because he'd never shook off the childhood fear, but whatever. He could work with this to his advantage anyways. For whatever reason, he wanted to see if Saruhiko liked being challenged.

"How do you know? Have you ever been inside?"

"I read the plaques," Saruhiko shrugged, and Yata smirked openly.

"So you don't know if it’s not haunted..." Yata hummed, his gut twisting a little at how badly this could go. His goal was to simply play around, maybe embarrass Saruhiko, but if Saruhiko actually wanted to prove him wrong by going inside..."Maybe you're just saying that because you're scared and don't want to go inside."

Yata was surely screwing himself over. Oh god what have you done. You'll never survive.

Old stories started to flood his brain, the one about the ghost bride in the adjacent house, or the missing girl from house 210, and oh god the rumors about the abusive father in house 204...

They were stupid myths, meant to scare grade schoolers and make money, but Yata felt goosebumps even thinking about them. I'm gonna die.

Saruhiko's response surprised him though.

"No way," he said quickly, glaring one last time at the large, tinted windows of one of the bigger homes. "And it's not because I'm scared. I don't need to hear a tour guide talk for hours about the restoration of wallpaper."

Yata blinked, letting the relief wash over him as Saruhiko eyed him critically, as if there was more he wished to say. He does that a lot, Yata realized, and all feelings of stress were replaced with amusement. Saruhiko really was a loner...

"If you say so," Yata said smugly, walking ahead of Saruhiko with confidence. It felt nice to win, even if it was a complete sham. "Sometimes listening to people talk is nice though."

There was a beat of silence as Yata's sneakers dragged on the sidewalk, and he halted, looking back to see Saruhiko with that same torn expression on his face, light flush gracing his features, and Yata choked up. Damnit, stop doing that.

Just when Yata thought he was starting to familiarize himself with Saruhiko’s personality, he did this shit. "Um..."

Saruhiko scoffed, catching up in a few brisk strides as he recovered, refusing to meet Yata's eyes even when their hands brushed together. When Saruhiko finally spoke, Yata felt like he was on another planet.

Or well, maybe cloud nine was more accurate. Fuck.

"Why listen to them? You’re here."

And Saruhiko did listen to him, in his own weird, grumpy way. When a group of wealthy college students threw Yata dirty looks because of how he'd been dressed, Saruhiko sneered at them something fierce, and proceeded to indulge Yata's whole rant as they piled groceries into their cart. Then before Yata knew it, he was babbling about everything.

How he didn't want to finish school, how much he loved his mom, how mischievous his siblings could be, all aspects of his life slowly laid bare as if Saruhiko was a lifetime friend, and not the mysterious boy Yata had spent roughly two days knowing.

"Yeah but, that's why I want to move out soon," Yata said, checking a few things off his list and praying Saruhiko wasn't terribly bored with him. "Not super far away but just...getting my own place would be nice."

"Mm," Saruhiko hummed, glaring menacingly at the bag of vegetables Yata loaded into the cart. Yata laughed a bit, pushing the bag towards Saruhiko's face teasingly as the other swatted it away. Cute.

Sparing Saruhiko, Yata looked over his cart again, nodding to himself. That should be everything.

"So, you don't like the guy your mom married then? Is that the issue?" Saruhiko asked, and Yata was quick to clear things up.

"No, not at all! He's great..." Yata said, letting his features fall into a fond expression. His mom...she was so happy now, having a complete family, even if his stepfather was out of town a lot. But... "He's really good to her, to all of us. But, I don't know, I feel like I kinda don't fit in there? My siblings belong with their mom and dad, but the picture looks off when you toss me in there. I don't mind it exactly but--"

Yata thought about his life, his goals for the future, making it on his own and proving he could be something. It was important to him, and the pride began swelling in his chest.

But I want to make a home for myself too.

He wondered how Saruhiko felt about that kind of stuff. The taller did come off as apathetic at times, but Yata could tell there was more drive in him than he let on. Saruhiko was smart too, observant. What did he want to do in the future? What was his family like? Yata didn't realize how badly he wanted to know.

I want to know more about Saruhiko.

Yata looked up after it took the other a while to respond, worried he'd somehow overshared, but Saruhiko's eyes were full of nothing but...well, Yata didn't know how to define that emotion, but he knew the hints of fondness and hesitance in those eyes made comfort crash over him in waves. "Mm, I see."

Yeah...

He coughed, not really sure how to deal with the giddiness swirling in his stomach, and chose instead to act on his urges. "Uh...what's your family like?"

Saruhiko frowned at that, looking away as if to think about his response. It was strange to Yata, he never had to think about how to describe his family. His family was great, but he knew it wasn't the case for everyone. Maybe he shouldn't have asked, but then again, Saruhiko had asked about his, so he thought it was okay.

"I'm not close to them." Saruhiko's shoulders were tense, and Yata decided to drop it after that for sure, but Saruhiko surprised him by continuing. "My...father w--he just wasn’t around a lot, so I got to do as I pleased. I’m used to having a lot of free time."

Yata noted the past tense but didn't press, no matter how much he itched to. He knew better. For whatever reason, even the little tidbit of information about Saruhiko made him happy anyway. It made him want to make Saruhiko happy too.

Well, you can be close to other people then!

"Lucky me then heh..." Yata coughed, pushing his cart towards the registers in a way that hopefully looked normal. He practically felt Saruhiko's gaze boring into his back.

"Why do you say that?" Saruhiko's voice was edged with playfulness, and the smirk Yata had come to find rather attractive was no doubt plastered on his face. But, well, Yata never backed down from a challenge.

"I get to be around you more then, is all, right?"

He turned around, and the blush he saw was worth his own.

Their hands brushed not so accidentally as they took the groceries out of the cart and loaded them onto the conveyor belt. Sometime after, Yata squawked stupidly when the cashier had to get his attention after he zoned out staring at Saruhiko, and he thought then that he was definitely in trouble. He paid quickly, trying to even out his breathing as Saruhiko stepped forward, brushing against his side to grab some of the bags with irritation.

It was really warm outside, summer had begun after all, but Saruhiko was still wearing a jacket, and Yata glared at the offending material. He wondered what Saruhiko's bare skin felt like as they left the store, not bothering to mind the space between them.

They took the long way this time, through the city, an unspoken excuse to talk to each other more, though Yata noticed Saruhiko always made an effort to be a few steps ahead of him.

"Ugh, I can't believe the first time you saw me was when I fell out of that tree," Yata groaned as he cursed Bandou, who had a habit of getting his frisbee lodged in the trees at the park. Yata had a habit of plummeting to the ground in an effort to retrieve them.

"I told you, I knew you would need my help," Saruhiko sighed, eyes darting around the corner as they crossed the street to make sure cars weren't coming. Vigilant now huh?

Saruhiko shook his head in mock disappointment. "Someone who can't even climb a tree..."

"Hey those things are tall!"

"Oh? Are you admitting you're short then Misaki?"

Yata choked, beaten once again. Damn, why did Saruhiko have to be so fast with his comebacks? Not fair. Nevertheless, as annoyed as Yata tried to seem, the grin wouldn't leave his face. "Whatever, you still admit to wanting to help me even after seeing me fall."

Yata's palms felt clammy, because really, what he should've said was 'but you still like me,' but it was too out there, even for him. Plus, he wasn’t fully certain if Saruhiko had been joking before, in the tunnel, or under the freeway. Either way, Yata was content like this, for now.

Well, his arms kind of hurt from carrying the bags for so long, but whatever.

“So—”

Suddenly, Yata was yanked back violently, nearly slipping and dropping the groceries as his feet scuffed against the concrete. Yata's breath was knocked out of him, and he heard a light screech as he was forced back.

"Watch it!" Saruhiko's arms came around his waist, pulling him further onto the sidewalk as a car sped by, honking loudly at them even though the walk sign was clearly on. Yata's heart raced, partly from the shock of the car running the light, but also Saruhiko's body pressed against his, the smell of something vaguely floral flooding his senses as he started to relax.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, not moving away as he watched the car speed off. "Honestly..."

"Um...Saru..."

The other tensed behind him, which caused his hold to tighten as a result, and Yata tried so hard, so hard not to fall into it. "Ah, right," Saruhiko whispered, clearing his throat as he pulled back, a little too slow to be considered normal, as if...

As if he didn't want to.

No. No, not going down that road. Yata scolded himself, shaking the thoughts away to be dealt with at another time. Preferably when he was at home, in his room, not with Saruhiko.

"Uh haha that was a close one! Yeah." Yata coughed, clutching his bag a little tighter than necessary and hoping he hadn't ruined any of the contents. He glanced down the street as Saruhiko picked up his own bags, glaring at the direction the car had gone. "What an asshole."

"Yeah, I'm surprised how many idiots don't know how to drive." Saruhiko walked past him, continuing their journey home, and Yata followed after a moment of confusion.

Man, come on, it wasn't a big deal.

Well, no. Saruhiko had majorly saved him there, and he'd felt so nice--stop. Later. Home. Bed.

Surprisingly, even after the tense incident, the atmosphere between them returned pretty easily, the comfortable silence and easy mood making Yata forget his near death experience. But, he felt like he needed to say something.

"It was lucky you were there ha," Yata said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks."

Saruhiko shrugged, his usual response, but Yata didn't miss the small grin threatening to grow on his face. "It's whatever."

Douhan held the phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she reorganized her book case, the faded covers and tattered pages threatening to fall off as she moved them.

“Are you going to apologize?” She said, and she meant the question as less of a suggestion and more of a command. She was too old for this.

She glanced outside as the sun hit her back through the blinds, strong enough to make it through even the densest of foliage. She glanced to her coffee table in boredom, eyeing the official letters from the city which advised her to clean up her yard. She never paid them any mind.

On the other end of the line, she could hear Fuse sigh loudly, his fingers pausing as he typed on his computer. “Why would I do that?”

Douhan smiled at the childish tone. Fuse was unashamedly blunt, but rational, and hearing him pout was always a treat. It was almost as amusing as when Saruhiko did it.

“You’re the one who started the fight,” Douhan reminded, then continued with a smug smile. “Does Enomoto know about this? Maybe I should tell him to scold you.”

It was an overused trick of hers, bringing up the other’s boyfriend, but it had a high success rate.

Fuse groaned into the receiver, the sound choppy due to a poor connection, and Douhan’s lips quirked in triumph. “Don’t pull that, what I did wasn’t wrong and you know it.”

“Do I?” Douhan grimaced as a book fell apart in her hands, the binding worn and damaged after one too many uses. “Who are you to decide that?”

Douhan’s voice was a touch more grim now, both from her book dilemma and the conversation, and she heard Fuse sigh in defeat after a few tense moments.

“I was just worried about him…that’s all,” he finally whispered, the silence shattered even from the gentleness of the statement.

Douhan’s eyes softened as she stared at the scattered pages on her floor, a light hum leaving her lips as she admired the reasoning. Well, she couldn’t exactly fault him for it.

They all worried about Saruhiko, and each other.

But…

“Yes, I understand,” she said, bending down to collect a page littered with symbols and sketches. “But you know…despite that…”

Despite everything…

“Saruhiko deserves to be happy sometimes.”

The silence was stifling, broken only by Fuse making a choked sound through the phone. She gripped the phone in her hand, tapping her nail on the hard surface as she waited. While Douhan doubted he’d agree right away, she hoped the words would sit with him. Again, they were far too old for this.

The response she got was the dial tone, the harshness of it ringing in her ears as she crumpled up the page in her palm.

#sarumi #adri writing #k project

10 notes · View notes

nicksilveirart · 5 years

Text

(SING!) Story Not Told, chapter 12 – Tears in Heaven

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 (MATURE)

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Click here to read chapter 12:

"No! I mean... Yes, he's in there and not coming out. I've tried that! That also. You're what? No, not today. At least let the guy get a good night of sleep before that. Knowing him, he'll be up first thing in the morning. Okay. Go ahead, I'll just... Keep trying. Thanks." Eddie was whispering into the speaker, then turning his attention to the door in front of him. "Buster, you can't hide in there forever!" He knocked for the, he figured, billionth time. "Open up!" He could make out soft cries and sobs on the other side. The knob turned to reveal the theatre owner. Buster was a mess, and felt like such. Sniffing, he looked up at the much taller sheep. "Yes?" "I ordered pizza." "I'm not hungry, Eddie." He forced himself to smile at his friend. It was not his fault he had destroyed the theatre and was now headline news, right? "But thanks." "Okay, forget the pizza. Wanna play something?" "Nah, I'm good… I think I'm gonna call it a day." He rested down on an inflatable bed, and looked up at the TV. Citizens are shocked, and it's a miracle anyone survived this great disaster. Whilst Moon has not been found to give interview, sources say- Eddie quickly grabbed the remote, and turned the TV off. "You don't have to listen to this, you're beating yourself up as it is." He sat near his friend. "I deserve it." He chuckled sadly. "Let alone destroying the theatre, Eddie, I could've killed everyone. I deserve everything they're saying." "You could've gotten yourself killed back there, that occurred to you?" He froze for a second, thinking about his girlfriend. He could be the biggest loser he knew, but someone saw something in him. Ash wanted to be near him, a fraud or not. And she would've been sad if he had died, or so he figured. "Now it did." "So don't beat yourself up too hard over this." He flopped onto the couch. "Anyways… That girl that was here today?" Buster's ears perked up. "What about her?" "I've never seen you so comfortable around a girl before." The sheep laughed. "Well…" He pulled the sheets over himself. "Can't be all awkward around the cast, right?" "Except for she's not cast anymore. She was here with no competition up." Good god. The koala definitely didn't like where this was heading. "Yes?" "Dude… You like her or something?" He shrugged. "Maybe." Eddie looked at him intently. "Okay, we're together." "That's awesome news, man! Congrats!" "Thanks." He smiled. "How long?" "A couple days." "While the competition was still up?" He raised a brow. "Hey, if it was for that she wouldn't come here." Buster sighed. The same assumption Lance had made, and it was enough to make his stomach turn. He knew her, Ash wouldn't go that low. "True." He yawned. "Good night, Buster." "Night, Eddie."

Ash walked towards her apartment. That had been a busy day. The whole theatre coming crashing down aside, she had been walking for a good hour before finally catching sight of the NYC suburb-styled building she lived at. However, that wasn't the only thing she got a glimpse of. "Oh no…" She hid in a bush just on the other street, and peaked her head out. "Come on, why are you doing this to me?" Just outside the door, sat her mother and father. "You never cared before, you never- Goddamn it…" No way in hell she was going to face her parents. Turning around, she silently prayed they hadn't spotted her as she walked in another direction. Tara was laying down at the couch, re-watching Two and a Half Moose, and laughing to herself at the stupidest things said by the characters. After a tiring day directing many crew members around a set, she gave herself a marathon of her favorite series as a reward. She loved directing, but couldn't deny it was a ton of work. Holding onto a bucket of popcorn, she slowly drifted into sleep. Between an episode and another, the doorbell rang, and she woke up in a jolt, dripping popcorn all over the place, and falling over it. The doorbell rang again, and she stumbled her way over to the door. "Who is it?!" She asked, distressed. "It's Ash! I kinda… Need a place to stay. My parents are keeping guard at my house." Tara quickly opened the door. "I'm sorry, okay? They put me against the wall, your brother said we had seen you, and-" "Whoa there!" Ash laughed. "I'm not complaining, Tara. Actually I kinda expected that to happen, I knew he wasn't going to keep secret. I just need to crash somewhere and well… You're the one friend I've got that won't smoke weed through the night." "Oh. Uh… Get in." She stepped aside. "Thanks." Getting inside, the rocker rested her guitar case by the door, quickly noticing the mess in front of the TV. She burst out laughing. "What happened here?" "You happened here." Tara smirked. "I was watching TV, eating some popcorn, and fell asleep." "I told you many times you gotta learn how to sleep in a bed." She said, plopping herself onto the couch. "I will soon, mom." The otter shot back. "Wanna watch something?" "Whatever you are watching." "Fox is having a Two and a Half Moose marathon." "Two and a Half Moose it is." "Great." Tara flopped herself onto the couch. "If you're hungry, there's popcorn all around." "Pass." In-between episodes, breaking news showed the destroyed theatre. Tara looked at her. "Well, this happened." "Damn! Moon put a massive tank in there?!" "Moon built a massive tank in there. Using practically anything he could find that was made of glass." Tara's jaw dropped. "Are you okay? I mean… Your chance to perform your original and all." "Yeah, I'm good. I talked to Buster, about putting the show together again, he told me to call him tomorrow." Tara laughed. "He gave you his number?" "No, we are going use telepathy." Tara laughed. "You moron." "He just wanted you to call him." She winked. "You think he has a crush on me, don't you?" "First praising your talent, then the song, and now he asks you to call him? Pretty sure he does." "A bit old for me, don't you think?" "As long as he makes you happy." Ash raised an eyebrow at her friend, smirking. "Wait, no way!" "Yes, we are." "Tell me how it happened!" "We were at the theatre, and kissed. No big deal." The otter was listening expectantly. "The tank who caused all this? He got squids to perform there. Yesterday, he took me there and showed what he had planned, and we kissed." "Was it good?" Tara was holding onto a cushion. "It was great. We kissed and, well… You know. Everything happened fast, but it was nice." The other girl held a hand up. "He took you to bed with him?" "More like I took him to bed with me." Ash laughed. "Straight-forward. Was it good?" The teenager nodded. "Great." Both girls turned to the TV in time to see the adjectives that were being thrown at Buster, and Ash could only hope he wasn't watching the news. She was almost asleep when her phone rang, startling both girls. Groggily, she picked up the phone. "Hello?" She yawned and rubbed her eyes, suddenly jolting awake. "Oh hey, Miss Crawly."

On the other side of town, Lance finished another gig with his current girlfriend Becky. House wasn't full, but they had gotten a decent amount of claps. Offstage, they shared a drink. Performing mostly in bars, it was more than usual for them to get one or two shots on the house. It was also around this time that the only folks you could find around were drunk animals singing karaoke, band members chilling out, or stoners from around town. "Well done, babes." "Thanks. You feeling better?" "Getting there." He rubbed ice along his bruised arm. "I swear, I was this close to kicking his ass." Before Becky could reply, a female voice laughed right behind them. "Sure you were." "Don't you have a better place to be, Laura?" Lance replied, annoyed. "My shift's over, I'm just another employee enjoying a drink." "Go defend your boyfriend someplace else." "He hates me just as much as he hates you, Lance. Know why? We're both cheaters. And you know you deserved it, talking about that girl like that." "Did you eavesdrop on us?" "More like heard it on accident." Becky stared at her. Laura merely smirked as she took another sip of her margarita. "You teenagers shift emotions towards someone so fast… And when you look back you see you made a mistake." "If you start talking like a wise old lady I'm gonna throw up." The other girl snickered. The three of them laughed. "I'm not that old, and I don't have to be the wise lady. Time will teach you, Lance. Breaking other's hearts isn't cool." "Why don't you go bother another cheater?" "I don't know another cheater." Laura laughed, as she rested a couple $5 bills on the counter. "Gonna get in line for karaoke." "Don't blow our ears up!" Becky mocked, and both porcupines laughed. "I'm not worse than the two of you, don't worry." She walked away. The two lovers, in lack of a better program, proceeded to listen to Laura's singing. They would never tell her, but she had just a fine voice, and pulled Ewe Clapton's Tears in Heaven just fine. Not too long after, one of the TV's in the bar started showing news from the incident at the Moon Theatre. Becky quickly turned to the bartender. "Hey, put that up please? Lance, look!" Both of them turned just in time to see the site the theatre used to occupy destroyed, chairs and bricks everywhere. Lance's jaw dropped, and he soon replaced it with a smirk. "Suits the koala just fine." He laughed. "A handmade fish tank? Seriously? He thought that was gonna work? And to think Ash traded me for that idiot." "I know, right?" Giggling, Becky got off of her chair and motioned for Laura to look at the TV. The koala got distracted for a second and, upon finishing her song, ran to the counter. "Good lord…" She couldn't help but remember all times Buster had told her about the theatre, how much he loved directing and how close him and his dad were of buying it. The times he worked at the car wash after school, sometimes even missing their dates, to clean a couple more cars. All for that place. And there it was: his beloved theatre reduced to ashes. "Hey, you know what? Now that the guy's probably curled on himself crying, might just be the best time to win him back." Laura stared up at the porcupine. "Come on, don't be mad, I just want to reunite the lovebirds." Lance moved closer, and started messing with her ears. They twitched. Without another word, she kicked his chair, and the much younger male fell face first on the ground. "Might as well tell Buster he doesn't have to fix your buck teeth anymore."

#story not told #sing #sing movie #sing 2016 #sing2016 #sing bustash #bustash #oc #sing fanfic #sing fanfiction #sing buster #sing ash #sing oc #ash #buster #buster x ash #ash x buster

0 notes