alettertothesea

[alettertothesea]

Orange Reminiscence

He could hear the music of his life resonating all around him. He had heard it under the spotlights of the various scenes on which he had performed. He had heard it as day dawned over his hometown or as night settled and the stars guided him and his many friends to new lands. He heard its lyrics chanting with each of his steps, with each of his breaths. They hummed in his ears.They blurred his vision. They made his limbs tremble. They boiled the blood in his veins. They shot a shiver up his spine. They plucked the strings of his heart like fingers pinching those of a guitar.

Today, there were no more promises. There was no more meeting at the top. No more “catch me!”. No more silent words. No more eyes that sparkled defiantly and mischievously to be sure that the promises, the promise, would be kept. What remained was a childish tally between two grown men, debating who would eat a freshly baked meat bun the fastest, who would get to the top of a hill first at the end of their morning jog, or who would win in a friendly volleyball game.

Shouyou no longer said goodbye. It was no longer like that day, the horizon biting into an orange, in Karasuno’s old gymnasium, smiling from ear to ear, where he had promised his best friend and greatest rival that they would meet again, simply uttering a “see you later”. It was no longer like that day at the airport, afternoon sunlight bathing the hall in sweet and tangy yet shining light, standing in front of his mom and little sister with teary eyes, his chin quivering and sobs tightening his throat. Just like promises, no more goodbyes. Now, there was only “we’ll see each other again”.

Today, even though he was a retired elite athlete and an Olympian, Shouyou could not stop the kaleidoscope of his memories from filling his mind. He could once again feel the drops of sweat that had rolled down his temples, his neck, his back during never-ending games or exhausting practice sessions. He heard again echo of voices: those of the audience in the bleachers of gymnasiums, of his coaches, of his friends, of his opponents. For years, they had laughed, cried, and tapped on each other’s shoulders, smiles illuminating their faces with joy, euphoria during victories, and sadness darkening their eyes during defeats.

He also remembered the nationals during his first year of high school, of the game he had to step out because of a stupid fever, of the next day when he had faced the orange sky of dawn and he had asked himself: “What will you become tomorrow?” Today, Shouyou was still flying towards that sky that led to tomorrow, hoping that those memories, those emotions, sensations and feelings that he had been feeling since he was 15 would last for one more second, just one more second. For there was no perfect moment than walking towards the horizon he was facing, the light breeze ruffling his hair, the perfumes of nature tickling his nostrils to cherish this very moment and the multitude of memories and colors, because he was sure that he had never been happier, so fulfilled, so at peace.

Shouyou had had big dreams on his back. He had not been the only one. They had all had big dreams on their backs. Today, he could say it: they have come a long way. He could even stand in front of a mirror, in front of the man walking behind him, and shout: “We’ve come so far away!” Of course, as the path of his fate slowly unfolded before him, he could have never expected the future he was currently living. He could have never expected something so beautiful, so marvelous. Could he have imagined something better? Shouyou did not think so. Even if the road from the past to the future would have been different, he would still have enjoyed every moment. And he would have continued to breathlessly run, chasing after the heat in his heart. That heat that had always been his love for volleyball, until the day his eyes had landed on an imposing silhouette, on a menacing but intriguing aura of a teenage boy, on a crimson cape swirling at each of his steps, on a crown that he thought was untouchable, unreachable. That heat that had turned into a 6 feets tall man with moonlight skin, hypnotic indigo eyes, raven-black hair, and a faint yet seductive smirk.

Shouyou could not shake the feeling that each moment he lived would never happen again. He was not sure if he was sad that the past was way behind him, that the present was still being written, or that the future was barely being drawn. But he could not ignore his heart contracting painfully as soon as he reminisced his first game against Tobio, the day they became teammates and classmates in Karasuno, the new encounters and friends he had made throughout his journey in the volleyball world, the summer training camp in Tokyo during his first year of high school, his obsession with Ushijima Wakatoshi and the fact he screamed “Japan!” every time he saw him, or when he had officially met him and he had stated he was Hinata Shouyou from the concrete and that he would defeat him. He could never forget their victory against Shiratorizawa, qualifying them for the Spring nationals, the All-Japan Youth Camp and him inviting himself into the First-Year Training Camp, and Tobio’s words confirming that he could fly even higher. He would always remember the most authentic and spectacular Garbage Battle against Nekoma, and hearing his best friend, Kenma, saying that volleyball was fun, the end of the nationals for him and his whole team, placing them at the 8th place of all Japan, the many times he had freed himself from the birdcage that prevented him from spreading his wings, his departure for Brazil, his return to Japan and his new rivalry with Tobio—while he was a player for Adlers and him for MSBY—his first Olympics and his real entrance onto the international scene as a player for Asas, whileTobio played in Italy for Ali Roma.

Yes, Shouyou had not forgotten a thing, even the calmer everyday life after his retirement. The mornings of waking up as the day broke for his yoga session, going for a jog to the sound of birdsong, and coming home with an “okaeri”, a kiss and a steaming cup of tea welcoming him back. The evenings laying on the couch watching even more volleyball with the person he had never wanted far away from him. If all those memories could continue in his memory, Shouyou hoped that in some kind of multiverse, all of this would continue to grow, to link, and to connect forever.

And as he turned around to face the man walking behind him, answering with a smile to the one that greeted his bright eyes, the same questions from the past resurfaced in his mind: what should we draw? What should we do? No matter what tomorrow he could try to imagine in his head, he was sure of one thing: that he would not change anything for all the gold in the world.

In the threads of the wind that swept the grass around them, brushing his and Tobio’s hair out of their faces, he could hear a voice. Was it that of the song he had heard all his life? Was it that of his mom? Of his sister? Of a person he had never met but had heard about a lot? Shouyou could not tell, but he felt like it answered all the questions, the doubts and fears of his past, his present and a future he no longer dared to picture. It was telling him that one day, he would understand. That he should not be afraid to make mistakes. That he should stay the way he was. And for the latter, maybe it was not only addressed to him. Because seeing the tender smile on his husband's lips, it was as if he could hear the voice too. And maybe Shouyou was whispering to him to stay the way he was, because although the tyrant King had completely vanished, if by any chance there were still traces of him left in Tobio, then Shouyou would embrace and crown him all over again. He was telling him to stay the way he was, with his qualities and flaws because he would learn to understand them, to know them, to tame them, and to love them over and over again.

Today was one of those days where the bitter sweetness feelings from the past met him, like the bite of an orange that remained on your tongue.

As he offered his hand to Tobio, Shouyou hoped that all of this: the memories, the past, the present, the future, the walks through the meadows, the forests, the streets of their hometown would last for one more second, just one more second. And even if regrets of a time remained in their hearts, just like today, suddenly, someday, they missed those precious times, then they would never stop there, they would never look back, because hand in hand, they would keep on walking, and Shouyou would believe in the lyrics of the song that was telling him that everything would be fine, that they would fine, that he would be fine.

[alettertothesea]

A look is all it takes

People say it only takes a few seconds to know if you like someone. For him, all it took was one look.

The weight of his hand pressed against his mouth was a mere phantom compared to the memory of his almond-shaped eyes plunged in his, the bronze of which was revealed in the faint moonbeam filtering through a high, arched window on the left of his king size bed.

The heavy silence that had fallen in his bedroom had made his heart beat faster, drowning out any noise that might reach his ears.

The atmosphere should have been oppressive because of the situation he found himself in, but the new darkness that had taken his ability to breath, a huge black mass above him, engulfed him in an airtight and strangely peaceful bubble.

Having the blade of a knife to his throat would not have changed anything. Lying in his bed, under the soft silk sheets, motionless with terror or shock, facing his killer would have made no difference to the sensations that were overwhelming him.

Perhaps the forefinger the stranger had placed on his own lips to order him to stay quiet had been an indicator that he was not in danger. At least in his room, far from the chaos, from the fight that was certainly raging on the other side of the thick walls that made up his quarters.

It was only the next day, when the stranger had left his body, his bed, his room with a flexibility and dexterity that he had thought he was in the presence of a ninja that Daichi learnt the identity of the person: Kuroo Tetsuro, a soldier newly recruited in his close guard.

.

.

He was always there in a corner, in the darkness, standing tall, his hands joined, blending in the shadows, as massive as the tall, heavy doors opening into the throne room. His gaze fixed. It was never glassy. It was never staring into space. On the contrary, it was piercing, focused. It shone with intensity. Sometimes, it was even threatening.

Sitting in his seat, an arm resting on the armrest, one hand gripping the knob, Daichi always had to resign himself to looking away from the man. He had to be careful when he was swallowing his saliva so that its echo did not break the hubbub or the silence filling the room. He had to curb his heartbeat from racing, his feet from pushing him out of the golden blanket and running towards him, his thoughts from wandering into the meanders of obscene ideas and images.

When he walked down a corridor alongside the soldiers’ barracks, his eyes always stared out a window. And there he was, his silhouette slowly materializing. Moving logs or armors, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. The bulging, glistening muscles of his forearms tensed with the effort, his veins pulsing beneath his honey skin.

Or when Kuroo was at his post, protecting him, his gaze was lost in the vastness of his imposing back, impassable like a mountain. His step was firm. His broad shoulders rolled and his cloak floated with each of his strides, blurring his figure, as if he were nothing but an immense curl of black smoke rising in the clear sky. The click-clack of the small heels of his boots echoed against the stones of the castle. And his poise and presence were matched by the wealth and title of all the people who could tread these carpets.

The shadow of his silhouette covered him, making him so small, like a defenseless child standing in front of the gaping mouth of a monstrous beast. But Daichi never felt in danger in his darkness, like when they first met. His shadow was comforting, reassuring. It was the peace that allowed him to breathe.

Daichi couldn’t help but make mental or written notes, on his body or his intellectual, listing every tiny detail of Kuroo.

.

.

One evening, as Daichi was wandering around the castle, his step stopped dead under an arch in the cloister that ran all the way around the training field.

The setting sun bathed the place in a fiery orange, the ecru stones and dull yellow sand turning golden.

In the center of the field, shirtless, his muscles like a bronze breastplate gleaming in the sunlight because of sweat, Kuroo slew invisible enemies, his sword striking a dummy made of wood and hay. His movements were agile and graceful like a dancer.

As if he was in transe, Daichi stepped out of the shadows and walked towards Kuroo.

His footsteps didn’t echo in the enclosed space, the layer of sand muffling their sound, but the pounding of his heart against his ribs made him dizzy.

When the sun’s rays formed a crown above Kuroo’s head, he turned around, welcoming Daichi with a soft smile that melted him.

With shaking legs, blurred vision and trembling hands, Daichi did not know how he managed to walk up to the soldier.

“Finally we meet,” Kuroo said, lowering his sword and standing straight, his chest heaving.

Daichi gulped, averting his gaze from Kuroo’s torso, then announced, controlling his voice so that it did not quaver, “We already met.”

Kuroo chuckled at his answer, which made Daichi look back at him.

It was true, they had already met, and in a rather funny way. Daichi still could not forget that night.

“Then should I have said: finally you look at me.”

Daichi felt his heart skip a beat. His breath caught in the middle of his throat and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. He wanted to look away from Kuroo’s piercing gaze again, but Kuroo prevented him from doing so by capturing his chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing him to keep his eyes locked on his.

“This is your last chance to push me away before I turn your whole world upside down.”

Daichi couldn’t ask what his words meant that Kuroo erased the distance between them, his sweaty chest pressing lightly against his filmy clothes and he gently covered his lips with his.

[alettertothesea]

It was such an honor to write a story based on Forty’s art!!

My first piece for the reverse @kagehinabigbang ! Second to come with the final chapter release.

Please read the beautifully written fic to go along with it by Myosotis, beta'd by @snikkelerhq ♡

[alettertothesea]

[alettertothesea]

Rising From The Ashes

There was that door at the end of a hallway in the mansion that Shouyou wasn’t allowed to approach. Technically, it wasn’t that he wasn’t allowed to open it or even brush it, but he had always lived with one single rule in mind: no one enters the room behind the black door.

Shouyou had always been an inquisitive boy. So since he could walk without stumbling or falling and the eyes of adults no longer watched his every move, he ventured to the third and last floor of the house. He crossed the maze of corridors until his feet stopped abruptly at the beginning of the hallway. He walked with a determined step to the door. To this ebony wood that had been burning his retina for many years. Which aroused his curiosity to such an extent that today he thought he was crazy. Crazy to the point that some nights he could no longer discern the reality of the dream. Crazy to the point that he was sure that door was calling him. That the thing locked in this room was calling him.

Shouyou snorted and shook his head at the thought. An object couldn’t have the property of telepathy. The mansion could be haunted though. It was the conclusion he had come up with after years of searching for the answers of his unanswered questions. Whether he looked for them in the thousands of books in the library downstairs or by interrogating his parents and servants all day long when he was still a kid.

Yet today he was standing before that black door once again. Its design was so simple that it would be weird to think that a mystery was hidden inside the room. That it contained a secret that the world wasn’t ready to discover. So simple that the door was nondescript and nobody would have noticed it if they walked past it. But deep within him, a voice had always told Shouyou that rules were meant to be broken. One day he had even started to think that he would have been indifferent to this door if he hadn’t grown up with this interdiction. This rule. However, that was the story of another time. From another reality.

Shouyou chased away all his thoughts with the back of an invisible hand, then took a deep breath, as his hand went to rest on the handle. When he exhaled all the air from his lungs, he lowered the handle. And as odd as it was obvious, the door opened.

There had been a time when Shouyou had thought that the latter was double-locked. And he could have laughed nervously, having a severe mental breakdown, in the face of the fact that he had wasted so many years asking himself questions, imagining things, believing in others, whereas he would have sufficed to listen to his intuition, to accept to lend the reins of his body to his curiosity, to simply act like any other child who wasn’t scared of reprisals from the monster hidden under the bed or in the wardrobe

Shouyou pushed open the door and stepped inside the room. The latter was bathed in sunlight, filtering through tall arched windows. The walls were pristine white and dark brown parquet covered the floor.

Shouyou felt a smile tug at his lips. Although he didn’t notice at first that the room was empty, he felt a certain peace come over him. If an armchair would have sat in a corner with a pile of books beside it, he would have gladly slouched onto it and immersed himself into a world far from his boring life. But when his vision was no longer dazzled by the white light of day, a huge ivory steel cage materialized in the center of the room. It was so big it could hold two lions.

Shouyou furrowed his brow. The colonial and slavery era was over centuries ago. Circuses with animals were becoming increasingly rare and those with humans had long since disappeared. Was that the secret, the mystery, the forbidden rule that he was never to discover? That his family was part of an organization at the heart of some kind of trafficking and that he was the heir?

Shouyou didn’t want to believe it. He lived in a mansion where animals as well as people were treated with kindness and respect. This cage may have been a work of art. A climbing cage, a children's playground structure. In any case, there was certainly a whole other truth than the assumptions of his imagination!

Standing now about ten centimeters from the cage, his amber eyes stared at the rectangular panel screwed to the bottom of the cage. A relief inscription was written on it. Unfortunately, Shouyou couldn’t read it. It was a language he didn’t know. Perhaps even a language that didn’t belong to those known by humanity.

However, what intrigued him the most wasn’t this room only filled with a birdcage as large as a luxury prison cell or these characters, these drawings engraved in off-white steel. It was the pile of ashes resting in the center of this cage.

Shouyou should have run out of this room and found his parents to bombard them with questions. Because he already felt the beginnings of the implosion. He felt a certain anger, rage worming in his veins, turning his blood into a lava of corrosive acid. But instead of turning away from the cage, he crouched down and put an arm through the space between two bars and hardly his fingers brushed the pile of silver powder when the frozen bite of ice numbed his arm, paralyzed his whole body, made his eyes roll back and complete darkness fell.

.

.

His body was set ablaze. His skin charred from the flames, their kisses licking him like waves lapping at his toes. His raw flesh throbbed under the last embers. The alveoli, bronchial tubes and trachea were like a chimney flue, the soot of the toxic smokes from the fire that was ravaging his being lined every inch of his lungs. He was gasping. He was suffocating, desperately gasping for air, to no avail. His heart was a mere onyx stone, crumbly as coal and shrunk to its pathetic size.

Shouyou was screaming with all his might, but the pain was too strong for the melody of his voice to echo off the walls of the room. He wanted to wriggle, roll against the floor to put out the fire that was killing him the most excruciating death, but he was petrified under the burn. He could only see the vastness of the ceiling, a black expanse as dark as darkness or his future. He could only distinguish the hypnotic dance of the inferno through the celestial mirror. A single tear fell facing its tangerine color, slowly sliding towards his ear, getting lost in his hair.

When respite was finally offered to him, he was plunged into obscurity. Only snippets of voices and conversations reached him. He wanted to listen carefully, lift his head or turn his gaze, but every part of his body was scattered all around him in billions of tiny particles.

If he had thought he had just lived a nightmare, the torture that his body, his soul was now experiencing was his execution. The light pierced in bright white beams through the thick, inky fog, searing his retina. His mouth opened wide, inhaling all the air he needed to cleanse his lungs. But the real martyrdom was to feel every single of his cells merge together. Every single of his bones knit together. Each of the fibers of his muscles weave together. Each of his cartilage stiffen. He felt like someone was sewing, reattaching every piece of his body meticulously. That they were forcefully putting two pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit together. That they poured some kind of burning wax in his veins, on his skin.

Then the world reappeared around him with its shapes and colors. However, a dull pain numbed his entire body. And his cries during his combustion couldn’t have alleviated the agony he felt right now. Death would have been nicer than eternal life.

.

.

“Young Master, you must stay in bed!”

Shouyou didn’t care what he should do or not do. He had spent too many days, too many weeks lying in his big bed, in this even bigger bedroom. He had spent too much time drowsing, slipping in of reality to better lose himself in the limbo of a comatose state. Now that he was awake and had regained his thinking and moving abilities, he had to go back there. In front of this door. In this room. In front of this cage.

He felt it calling him. He didn’t really hear its voice whispering in his ear. No, he was feeling it deep inside. Something, a hand pulling, pinching the chord of his soul, asking him, begging him to come. His heart contracted painfully, as if it had been broken. It was hurting him so badly that he placed a hand on his chest, right at the spot where his organ was, his fingers clinging to the t-shirt he was wearing. His steps were slow, unsteady, and he felt like he was crawling up to the third floor of the mansion, his teeth clenching with every tiny movement he made. But he needed, had, to go meet this voice.

Finally standing in the corridor, in front of the door, Shouyou noticed that its petrol color was different. The change in shade would have been imperceptible to the human eye, but it seemed like Shouyou wasn’t just anyone. Any soul who wandered on this planet. The ebony was iridescent, ultramarine blue highlights revealing themselves when the sun’s rays came into contact with the wood.

Shouyou didn’t dwell on the new paint of the door when he lowered the handle and entered the room, the voice having become high-pitched whines, as if someone was hurting a vulnerable being.

Like the first time he had set foot in this room, it was bathed in light. The thought made him frown slightly, because Shouyou hadn’t taken the time to look outside to check the weather. In his vague memories, such a bright light didn’t illuminate the interior of the house. It was as if the veil of the night never covered these walls.

His eyes immediately fell on the pile of ashes in the center of the cage, but astonishment painted his features when he saw that there was no longer the cloud of silver glitter. Instead, there was the most gorgeous being, human, he had ever seen. Shouyou ignored the fact he was naked. He was hypnotized by the two sapphires that were his eyes. He was even more marveled by his long hair. It was like the raven’s plumage, shiny black, fading to royal blue feathers with a faint fiery orange sheen from the middle of the wisps. And he fell even more under his spell when he looked up at his face, his body with a skin as white as porcelain and that he discovered small ice blue semiplume feathers dotting his cheekbones, intensifying the color of his eyes.

“What are you?” Shouyou’s low voice broke the silence of the room, his words going beyond his thought. “No,” he said under his breath as if to cross out the sentence he had just uttered. “Who are you?” He corrected himself, taking a step towards the cage.

Only a finger away from the prison, the ivory colored bars being the last frontier to keep them from touching, Shouyou felt like the eyes staring at him ignited. Because a shiver ran through his body, goosebump spangling his skin. The sensation of being groggy after a long sleep or the aftermath of an illness from which he had just recovered evaporated to let a new breath invade his being, as if life was reanimating his body once again.

“I am Tobio. I am the phoenix to whom your family has pledged allegiance.”

The being’s voice, no, Tobio’s, surprised him more than his physique or his revelation. It was deep. It could have been the voice of a Reaper: unfriendly, cold. Yet it was warm. So warm it covered Shouyou’s shoulders like a blanket. And he could only succumb to this being. To this human. To this phoenix.

[alettertothesea]

when the hyperfixation kicks in like crazy and you end up reading far too many fics in a matter of days

[alettertothesea]

Film Noir

Tobio felt his calves’ muscles tensed more and more. Every fiber was about to snap. A sharp heat wormed up his legs, numbing his thighs which were just as hard and contracted. Yet he couldn’t stop running. He had never been closer to capturing his prey than today. It was escaping him, running as fast as he did. And although his lungs were desperate for oxygen to refill them or his throat was as dry as if thousands of bees had stung its walls, he had to catch up with it.

And he had to ignore even more the phantom of his laughter that was echoing against the brick walls of the back alleys in which he was getting lost. Tobio felt like he was chasing after a young child who was going deeper and deeper in a maze with no exit. The only clue to his position and the direction to take was this crystalline, almost evil song which buzzed in his ears and made him fall in a spiral of dizziness.

Tobio sprinted into another alley after a tight corner and stopped dead.

In front of him, hidden in the shadows, he was there, staring at him, studying him, as if he were a caged animal, wondering if he was going to be the next guinea pig for his experiments. Tobio partially saw the grin that lit up his lips, the scar that crossed his cheek looking like a smirk that stretched to his ear.

At the sight, his blood ran cold in his veins, while a shiver ran up his spine, making him clenched his teeth and fists.

A furtive movement caught his attention, his eyes instantly falling to the man’s left hand. For a split second, the moonlight reflected off the steel of the knife blade, the bright, silver light blinding him, causing him to close his eye when it burned his retina. And in the silence of the night, the atmosphere of the back alley becoming heavier and the air nonexistent, he heard it.

Drip-drop

Drip-drop

The sound of the crimson blood drops that still stained the bladed weapon dripped in a steady melody against the dull asphalte of the narrow space. In the peculiar calmness of the Big Apple, Tobio felt like a downpour had suddenly fallen on him, on them, on the city. And as fatal as the chase after his prey had been, he saw again the crime scene from earlier before his eyes.

A wolf, lips drawn back on menacing, sharp fangs, bent over its freshly killed victim, growled to dare anyone present in the room to come closer.

If it looked like the Big Bad Wolf killed poor Little Red Riding Hood in his memory, Tobio knew it was just a nicer reality his brain was trying to create. In fact, the wolf was a demon, straddling the poor and still warm body of a woman. The fangs ready to bite you was a smile so white it shone brighter than the full moon in the dark night. And the growls were demonic laughter. A euphoric rattle coming from the back of the throat and conveying all the ecstasy of the intoxication of a murder. Big amber doe eyes were plunged in his blue ones, as hands pushed the weapon deeper into the chest of the dead body beneath him, teasing him, daring him to arrest him.

“Here we go again, you and me.” The hoarse and low voice, which echoed enough in this confined and silent back alley, where only the beating of their hearts could be heard, snapped him out of his thoughts. “How long has it been? Aren’t you tired chasing after me? After all these years?”

Tobio slowly looked up at the silhouette whose outline he could barely see in the shadows and stared at the dense, black mass where his prey’s eyes should be.

“Come on, Inspector Kageyama, catch me if you can.”

The voice was just a whisper brought by a draft, tickling the thin, sensitive skin of his ear, before he heard footsteps in the darkness in front of him, the Demon of New York slipping through his fingers like smoke.

[alettertothesea]

saying "i love you" for the first time

[alettertothesea]

Once Upon A Time

It was the first time he was coming back here in years. He never thought he would set foot here again. In this city. In this street. In front of this door. The last time he had closed it behind him, he had sworn to himself that he would never come back. Yet here he was, one hand gripping the handle and weighing up the pros and cons of whether to lower it. Because this house wasn’t just any building and the pale imitation of the others forming the residential precinct. It was the only place he could call home. And he didn’t really know what he was doing here today. Why he had bought a train ticket at the last minute. Why he had spend hours sitting on an uncomfortable seat last night to be standing in front of this door.

Sighing and wiping away with an invisible hand any thought that could make him turn and run away from this place, Hinata opened the door and stepped inside. He might have been surprised at the atmosphere that suddenly wrapped him or the odor that covered the walls of his nostrils. But a draft hit him violently like a gust of wind in a storm. The humidity and mold of the time didn’t fill the place. The mixture of floral perfume and chemicals from fresh paint wasn’t floating in the air. After so many years, the house still had that same smell of fresh laundry with a hit of citrus. Hinata smiled when he recognized the subtlety of the fruit. Tangerine.

“Why did you buy tangerines? You don’t even like them!”

“But you do. Moreover, just because I don’t eat them doesn’t mean I hate their fragrance! Besides, I fell in love with a big, sweet and at times sour tangerine. So how can I hate them?”

A snort crossed his sealed lips when the last bits of memory evaporated from his mind and from before his eyes; jumping at the same time at the sound he had just made. How long had it been since he laughed with such innocence? With such fondness? With so much love? How long had it been since he actually laughed?

It had taken him years to start over after that day. Yet a few seconds in this house seemed to cure all his sorrows and heal all the scars left open within him.

Hinata went further into the house. Nothing had moved or changed. He didn’t know why this fact surprised him, because, technically, it was normal for everything to stay as its righteous place if nobody lived here. If no human presence animated this skeleton of concrete, wood and plaster. Still, he couldn’t prevent his heart from squeezing painfully in his chest. He couldn’t help sliding his forefinger along the edge of a piece of furniture to collect a thin layer  of dust. Or his eyes to fall on one of the photos placed here and there throughout the house. The picture painted an immeasurable happiness. An unconditional love. A loving home.

With a trembling hand, Hinata took the frame. His already tight throat constricted even more. He gulped past the lump in the middle of it. His eyes glazed from the tears that had created an opaque curtain over them. He gently stroked the cheek of the second man who was frozen on the glossy paper. In the halo of sunlight, the man with ebony hair and midnight blue eyes (which no one could see because he had closed them), so dark that Hinata had always had the sensation of drowning in the depths of the ocean, was smiling like Hinata had never seen him smile. His lips were stretched to his ears and his straight white teeth were visible.

“Why did you develop it? And why did you put it here on display?”

“Because people need to know you can smile!”

“I look stupid!”

“No, you look beautiful!”

The photo pressed against his chest, right on his heart, Hinata found himself on the engawa. Sliding slowly down the beam, his gaze lost in the vastness of the garden, which didn’t look like a wilderness, as if someone came to maintain it regularly, Hinata wondered how things had turned out that way. How the light could have given way to darkness so quickly. How the sun, the cloudless azure sky could have been chased away so that an eternal night settles over his head.

“I came back. You begged me to and I told you I would. But where are you?”

[alettertothesea]

Exploration

There is something in the discovery of the other that is magical. When your mouth suddenly comes into contact with that of the person you have hidden feelings for. When your lips taste the perfume of that flower you've spent so many minutes, hours observing. Dying under the softness of its petals. When they get intoxicated by the nectar they contain in their hearts.

When the heat of the human body seems burning, paralyzing. Realizing that this is the thing you've always wanted: to feel that person's arms wrap around your waist or your neck, as if you were the buoy that could save them from drowning. Pressing your body to theirs to bask in that fire that had vanished from your being and rekindle it instantly. Enjoying this life-saving feeling more than ever. That feeling that makes you feel like someone is draping a warm blanket over your shoulders or sitting in front of the fireplace in winter. That sensation you've always been looking for and now want to conquer and never leave. Because it’s synonymous with home.

When your eyes landed on an outstretched hand, waiting to know what the gesture meant and now your fingers touch it with shyness, hesitation. Sliding up and caressing this palm that you know by heart, but which today is an indecipherable parchment. The pads memorizing each curve, each crevice, each bump. That hand you longed to hold in the limbo of your dreams or when you found yourself alone in the darkness of your bedroom. That right here, right now, you clasp firmly, your fingers finally intertwined with theirs.

When a voice reveals all its secrets. Its song creeping into your brain no longer having the same message, the same meaning.

“What was that?” Hinata asks, panting. Hinata is certain he’s a mess because he can feel the burn on his cheek spreading down his nape and up his ears. His limbs shake like he is holding a jackhammer. His mind becomes a blank page. And on the verge of vomiting his heart or it piercing through his chest.

Moreover, he couldn’t dare to open his eyes, afraid to read the light in those of the boy in front of him. He couldn’t help but drop his head even more, somewhat feeling flustered. And if he had the courage, maybe he would have leaned forward and rested his forehead on Tobio’s collarbone.

“Exploration.”

[alettertothesea]

A Breath in Froth

Hinata kept hearing a voice. He couldn’t say when the latter started ringing in his ears. In his mind. But it was always there, like a looming headache at the back of his skull. Or like the pulsing of his blood at his temples. He woke up with this melody faintly echoing in the limbo of his sleep or dreams. He ate his meals thinking of this chant, the notes and quarter rests giving rhythm to the way he was swallowing or chewing the food. He fell asleep with this lullaby being hummed to him.

Strangely enough, this voice was getting louder and louder every time he was by the shore. When he was playing beach volleyball. He easily got distracted by it. Right in the middle of a game, he couldn’t help but glance at the vast ocean. He couldn’t stop the burning sun from blinding him as the song invaded his mind. The latter pleaded with him to come closer, to walk to it, to dive in the depth of the great blue expanse. As soon as Hinata snapped out of this “trance”, it always seemed like he spent his day daydreaming. 

Hinata was even more scared of this voice when he was wandering around the city. Always leaving the apartment with some kind of schedule. But his feet ended up leading him somewhere he didn’t know. To a place he’s never been before. To an unknown environment that made his heart beat so fast that he could see lurking silhouettes in the shadows, ready to attack him if he dared to move. Those events always made him wonder if he became a sleepwalker overnight. Or worse, sometimes he even thought that he had been put under a spell, being the puppet of an evil sorcerer.

Another night, another delivery. His feet pushing on the pedals of his bike, Hinata was riding as fast as he could in the neighborhood. But as he was racing down the street, he braked abruptly, stopping dead in front of the window of a bar. And he heard it again. Weakly. Loudly. Cheerfully. Smugly. Hummed. Screamed. Whispered. Scared. Determined. The voice was once again numbing his ears, clouding his mind, mingling with his thoughts. And if before today he couldn’t understand what it was uttering, now he was sure of the word it stammered, muttered, said.

On the TV screen, the image of a black-haired boy was being displayed. He was wearing a jersey. The national team one. Red and White. A little flag of the country he was from printed on the front, on the left, right above the heart. Seeing the image, Hinata’s throat tightened. His body began to shake. His heart squeezed, the pain spreading throughout his whole being. And when Kageyama Tobio opened his mouth, the ultrasonic melody, the chant being sung from under the dark waters of the seas or at the top of a rock in the middle of its fury, called out to him.

Hinata Shouyou.

As if he was standing by the water, the waves gently licking his toes, this bewitching melody seduced him. It told him to come to it, to save it, to embrace it. As magical and surreal this moment was, a single drop of salty water formed at the corner of his right eye. It suddenly landed on his cheek as he fluttered his eyelashes.Then it rolled slowly down his face. The mark it left on his skin reflected that of the sweat of his best friend, rival, partner beyond that wall of glass.

[alettertothesea]

Derek, smacking Stiles: GET. SOME. REST.

Stiles, smacking Derek as well: YOU. FIRST.

[alettertothesea]

Derek always let Stiles in. He was guarded with everyone else besides Stiles. He would do anything for stiles

- when Boyd died, Derek let Stiles comfort him rather than pushing him away

- when Peter and Cora shared Derek’s past about Paige, Stiles was there and listened to why Derek is the way he is

- when Derek was dreaming and the person there to help him was Stiles

-every time Derek was knocked out it was always Stiles waking him up

- when Stiles went missing Derek was searching everywhere for him

- when void Stiles was in the loft, Derek wouldn’t let anything harm him

Moral of the story, Derek loved and cared for Stiles

[alettertothesea]

Hidden Talent

Hinata and Tobio walked down the stairs lazily. A few minutes earlier, Hinata’s mom had asked them to watch after Natsu, Hinata’s sister, because she needed to step out for a while. Reaching the opening of the living room, the two boys blinked at the new setting of the room. The coffee table that used to be in the center of the latter had been shifted to the left. Now, on the rond carpet, a dozen plushies and dolls were seated in an arc, facing the TV. In front of them, Natsu was standing, all smiles, speaking to her motionless toys.

Hinata took a first step into the room, quickly followed by Tobio. Hinata flopped down on the sofa, while Tobio slowly sat down. Seeing the shadows of the two boys, Natsu's smile widened and started to bustle about the room. After a short silence, she introduced herself and picked up a black hat and a wand that lay at her feet.

For a good ten minutes, Natsu did a series of magic tricks. She began with the most classic one: the rabbit in the hat. Then she made several by using cards, with the happy participation of Hinata and Tobio. And as soon as a trick was over, the little girl was applauded like the greatest of magicians. At one point, Tobio and Hinata even gave her a standing ovation.

Then it was suddenly Tobio's turn. Hinata pushed him off the sofa, the raven-haired boy finding himself standing in front of the piece of furniture, somewhat puzzled.

Tobio timidly walked to stand where Natsu was.

“Show us what you can do, King!” Hinata shouted out, smirking mischievously.

Tobio glowered at him before he looked around the room. Then his eyes fell on a plastic box filled with accessories. A tambourine poked out from the clutter and a faint smile tugged at Tobio’s lips at the sight of it. He went to get it and when he came back to his place, he gently tapped it against his palm and at the third time he started to sing.

Tobio was known to speak his mind loud and clear, scolding Hinata whenever he did something wrong during practice or even during a match (not hesitating to hit him if necessary), his voice echoing throughout the gymnasium. But here in Hinata's living room, his voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if the boy still didn't feel comfortable to have people listening to his melody. Hinata didn't know the song Tobio was singing. Before his eyes, the somewhat tyrannical boy had become an idol, spotlights illuminating him, fan cries resonating all around him, his music spreading throughout the archipelago.

Besides volleyball, Kazuyo had planted another love in Tobio's heart. After every volleyball practice, he had taken his grandson to karaoke. It was he who had taught him to play the tambourine, tapping the rhythm of a song. It was he who had taught him to love this activity as much as the sport he lived for. It was thanks to him that he liked to sing, to hum when he let his thoughts wander.

On the couch, Hinata was shocked to hear Tobio's voice, his mouth agape. His eyes shone so brightly that people would have thought that a constellation had been painted in them. His lips curved slightly at the corner of his mouth;  joy, surprise, excitement being the emotion behind this tic. His heart swelled like a hot air balloon, slowly lifting his body, as light as a feather bewitched by this chant. He really is amazing, his inner voice sighed longingly. When he thought he had discovered everything about this boy, Hinata was always struck by something new.

A silence followed Tobio's performance. Then Natsu jumped up from the sofa, clapping like a seal and shouting to his brother, “Onii-chan, show him chuu-san!”

Immediately snapping out of his thoughts at his sister's words, Hinata stood up, acting like a puppet, but his mind was no longer clouded by Tobio's magical fog, completely lucid now.

Walking dangerously towards Tobio, the boy with the beautiful voice said in bewilderment, looking alternately at the brother and sister, “Who is chuu-san?”

When Hinata was a few centimeters away from Tobio, he lowered his head for a second and then lifted it up. Tobio almost paled in dread, but disgust made him frown and he took a step back, stammering, “What the f-. What is this?”

Tongue stuck out and curled up, the tip touching that of his nose, Hinata invaded Tobio’s personnel space, making him step backwards until he couldn’t escape his friend anymore.

“My hidden talent,” Hinata said in muffled speech, his arms wide open like a grandmother welcoming her grandchild. “Now, give me a kiss!”

Tobio abruptly turned his head, as Hinata's face was particularly close to his and inwardly screamed "Noooo!" of horror. Behind his closed eyes, Tobio wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

[alettertothesea]

Hey man sorry about your male co-star. Turns out you guys had too much sexual tension on screen so he was written into a lazy, heterosexual romance arc that lacks chemistry and depth and actually just makes him look even more queer tbh. Now he's off pretending to be happy with somebody else when the love of his life was right there all along. I'm so sorry dude. It will probably happen again :/

[alettertothesea]

Rainy Day

The pitapat of the rain against the window filled the silence inside the bedroom. The petrichor odor covered the walls of Kageyama’s nostrils. He couldn’t remember where he had read or seen that term, but it surprised him that the word got stuck in his mind. Kageyama knew he wasn’t the type of person to have a gift for memorizing things, unless it was about volleyball. And he wasn't known to dedicate his life to his studies, spending most of his time playing his favorite sport. Yet, today, he didn’t care sitting in his room and having a tutoring session with his best friend, Hinata Shouyou. The latter was taking a nap when he was supposed to actually teach him math and sciences. He didn’t feel frustrated spending the whole day inside. To not be able to hear the bang of the ball hitting the parquet floor or the wooden walls of the gymnasium. The only thing he wanted and thought was his strong desire to smack the back of Hinata's head. And at the same time ask him if this was appropriate for a teacher to slack off.

Kageyama was more than pleased to spend this rainy afternoon with Hinata. Even though he was sure his best friend didn’t understand what he was teaching. Which amused him a lot. He was more than happy to listen closely to Hinata. To write whatever he was saying to him, filling up sheets of paper printed with equations.

In his boredom, he started to imagine some scenarios. For example, he would like to take a pen and use Hinata's face as a canvas. A few minutes later, the boy would finally wake up. As he would blink away the drowsiness, Tobio would stare at him, smirking. Looking at him all dumbfounded, Hinata would wonder why he looked like a pervert. A bulb lighting in his mind, Hinata would grab his phone and check himself in the camera app. In the following second, he would jump to his feet, the gleam in his eyes changing. Then they would start running around the coffee table. Hinata would threaten him with the pen that was used for the crime. He would scream his injustice, while Tobio would do his best to hold back his laughter. As always, their childish fight would become one of their many competitions. The chase would end with Tobio tripping over his own feet. And in his fall, he would drag Hinata down, the latter marking his face with the stinking indelible ink. After the shock, Hinata would burst out laughing. The beautiful melody awakening the butterflies in Kageyama's stomach and filling the bedroom.

But what he would like most was to join Hinata in his nap. If he had the courage, he would lean forward and lay his upper body down on the coffee table he had set up by his bed. His right arm serving as a pillow. For once, he wouldn't look away from Hinata. His eyes would map his entire face. Midnight blue shining with longing and love. He would replace a ginger lock of his bangs that would fall over his eyes. He would brush the bridge of his nose with his index finger, continuing to draw the line to his full, pink lips. A desperate desire to kiss him would overwhelm him, making him move closer to Hinata. But reason would stop him dead in his action. Then, to make this moment even more perfect and unreal, Tobio would confess his feelings. In the lowest and softest voice, he would whisper the 3 little words that made his heart pound wildly. That emptied his lungs of air when he heard a breath come out of his mouth. That clouded his mind when his silhouette appeared in his field of vision. That prevented him from concentrating on anything else. That veiled his eyes with a fond glint when he was the center of his world.

I like you.