#*banging pots and pans together and screaming* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s-4pphics · 2 years ago

Text

scent of the pine. 1 (e.w.)

omg i finally wrote something who woulda thought gosh golly damn hey yall whos gay around here

wc;cw: 9.6k mmmm, sistersbestfriend!ellie, guitarist/producer!ellie, violinist!oc, so many time skips and theyre not even done yet omg, queer duh, all ocs r black coded<3, mentions of underage smoking/drinking(nics n weed obv), partying, making out, blood(it’s fake but still), all tlou kids appear including *gasp* cat, lots of ocs theyre gonna thrive in later chaps, depression, anxiety, disassociation, crack(it’s not all bad yall laugh a little!!), mentions of therapy, uh yeah just alot of sad and drama, smut in later chaps🤭🤭

You have always been surrounded by music.

When you were born, your mother quieted your screams with song, holding you close to her chest and gently whispering words of affection and love into your ears while your three-year-old sister jumped in celebration for new life.

When you were two, your mother gave you your first ever violin toy. Your sister had taken a large interest in the flute at age four, saying that the whistling noises sounded like birdies! and she wanted to give you the same exposure. It could have been sheer luck or her maternal instincts, but you quickly became attached to it. It was small and inexpensive and hardly sounded like a violin, but its bright lights and animated face near the scratched, poorly painted F-holes entranced you like no other. You couldn’t stop fiddling with the red, blue, and green buttons across the body, and every time it played the same robotic instrumental, you waved your arms around with the biggest smile on your face, like you could fly away from elation. Your sister would sometimes jump in and blow into her months old pink recorder while the instrumental played from your toy, imagining you were a part of a world-renowned orchestra: the musical harmony between the two of you brought your mother joy.

When you turned three, your mom and sister invited over some of her friends to help make cupcakes topped with musical notes for your special day. You sat on the couch with your favorite toy in hand as the instrumental played, jumping up and down on the cushion from pure excitement. Your sister’s friends kept you entertained while your mother prepared dinner, banging together pots and pans with wooden spoons and dancing, imagining them as drums. All four of them made you laugh with jokes, sang to you—one of them even played a song on one of her miniature, bright green guitars— and allowed you to experience some of the joys of life through symphonic expression.

When you were four, your mother noticed differences in your behavior. She noted that you and your sister were polar opposites: she was outspoken, unapologetic, and animated, while you were shy, polite, and timid. You hardly ever spoke unless spoken to, and though no one around you judged you for it, your mother often wondered what went on in your head. Despite your lack of communication, she never doubted the fire inside you: she saw it in your eyes whenever you watched footage of some of the most famous names in the classical world play their hearts out. When you were five, she signed you up for violin lessons.

When your big sister turned eight, she and her friends' released screams of excitement when she revealed her very first flute. She jumped in excitement, —mostly out of relief that she wouldn't have to berate you and your mom with the shrilling bleats of her old, pink recorder— shrieking about how she and her friends should start a band as soon as possible.“How the hell would a trumpet player fit in a rock band, you idiot?” You remembered your sister's best friend, Ellie, saying quietly so your mother wouldn’t hear from the kitchen, earning a playful shove from Jesse, your next-door neighbor. The dark-haired girl, Dina—who lived two houses down and had a large obsession with slapping her mother’s keyboard in the middle of the night—bursted into a fit of giggles while pointing at the young boy, making him blush.

You were always very observant of your sister's friends. You didn’t have many opportunities to make some of your own due to your incessant need to isolate, so you managed with what you had. They intrigued you: they were loud, lively, and exuberant. They never shied away from demonstrating their talents to you or your mom, especially the green-eyed, auburn-haired girl that almost always had her father’s black acoustic guitar strapped around her small frame on the three-block walk to your house. You remembered when she brought the guitar to school to play for the other students during lunch time, which landed her in after-school detention after she scolded one of her teachers for confiscating it, claiming that they were “limiting creative expression” and telling them to “screw themselves”.

When Ellie’s father, Joel, came to pick up your sister's friends from her party, Ellie jokingly pinched your side and threw you a quick see ya, squirt! while her and her two friends laughed and waved their way out of your front door. Your face ran hot as you watched them—her—leave. You didn’t get to reply before they ran down your porch in a heap of giggles. Watch the road, nuggets! I don’t have life insurance! You remembered Joel calling out to them as they sprinted across the street.

When you turned eight years old, your mother gave you your very first authentic violin and bow, the black case wrapped in glittery, floral paper. As usual, your sister and her friends grabbed and shook your shoulders out of excitement and anticipation of seeing you play since they never have, which you politely declined. You have always shied away from revealing your natural talent due to your scalding fear of embarrassment, resulting in only your mother and violin teacher knowing your abilities. You blushed as your sister, Jesse, and Dina pressed on, pleading that you play at least a couple of chords for them, causing Ellie to playfully come to your defense with a high-spirited squeal of she’s shy, you heathens! leave her be before I kick all your asses!

From that moment on, you always looked up to Ellie and her comfortability with herself. You never thought that you would meet someone more confident than your sister, but Ellie had her beat for miles. Regardless of where she was or what she did, she moved with a confidence that you only dreamt of having at that age. You wanted so desperately to mimic her, but that annoying voice of doubt never failed to remind you of your place. You made sure your light was dimmed, always.

When your sister was twelve, she began to take music very seriously. She went from two flute sessions a week to five, only to return home and play some more. She’d even performed in some of her school's recitals (she vomited across the stage during her first performance, but a victory is a victory). You watched your mother scold her about not completing her homework as she stood practicing in the living room while you silently ate your dinner, which led to her half-heartedly completing her assignments with a frown on her face. Over the next year and a half, your sister's scolding started to get more intense as her grades dropped. She was never much of a scholar, but she never let her grades slip under as much as they had then. Although her music teacher was sending her home with nothing but praises after every lesson, your mom often received letters in the mail from your sister's school saying that her performance was concerning. You’d heard your mother reprimand her countless times, saying you’re not going to survive high school like this! look at what you’re doing! while your sister claimed I know exactly what I’m doing, I want to be better! I’m following my dreams! why aren’t you proud of me? They had exchanged more harsh words until you heard your sister's door slam shut and your mothers silently resigned to her room in defeat.

You heard your sister’s cries through your shared wall for a while, until a gentle voice—Ellie’s, you recognized—consoled her and told her to calm down until her whimpers silenced. You knew she had a habit of secretly climbing up into your sister's window to hang out when your mom didn’t allow company over, but you didn’t know that she also always showed up when your sister needed another source of comfort. You slowly got up and left your room, silently walking down the hall until you reached your sister's door. You wanted to knock and see if she was okay, but before you could do so, the door opened and out walked Ellie, clad in her usual dark jeans and T-shirt, bracelets covering her wrists in mass, and dirty, scuffed chucks and socks in hand. She jumped slightly when she witnessed someone waiting behind the door, but instantly relaxed when she realized it was you.

“Hey, squirt. Why are you creepin’ behind the door like that?” She whispered with a small chuckle, gently shutting your sister’s door.

“Sorry.” You whispered back. “I heard her crying and I wanted to check on her. How is she?”

“She’ll be fine. She got a headache and fell asleep. I was just tucking her in, don’t worry.” She gently said, looking down at you. “I was just about to head out. Mind lockin’ the front door for me?”

“Why don’t you just leave out the window again?”

She snorted before she asked, “Dude, do you know how hard it is to climb down that rickety ass ladder you guys have outside? I almost broke my neck climbing down that thing in that storm last month.”

You quietly laughed alongside her while she bent down to put her socks back on. “What are you doing up anyway? It’s late and you have class tomorrow.”

“So do you.” You said, raising an accusatory brow at her. “Plus, I'm not tired, I’m bored.”

“I’m not tired”, she said mockingly. “What do you wanna do right now?”

“Don’t you have to be home soon?”

She waited a second before a mischievous smirk creeped on her face, “Yeah, but who cares. C’mon.”

She grabbed your wrist before quickly pulling you back into your room and gently shutting the door behind you. She took note of your room: pink and purple everything. Your walls were drenched in white and pink stripes with giant, iridescent, butterfly stickers, your bedspread had small specks of glitter sprinkled across it, which shimmered from your pink and green fairy lamp. You had a small tv propped up on your dresser, which was covered in fairy and Disney princess stickers, at the front of your room. She couldn’t help but snicker at the mountain of plushies that crowded your bed and nightstand. However, she halted when she noticed a small glass case that held two violins with their bows. She recognized the first one: a gift from your mother on your eighth birthday that had lost some shine, and another, much glossier and more tuned than the latter. It looked barely used. A small burst of joy exploded in her chest at the thought of you playing even though she had never seen it. She was happy to know that your love for music still lived.

“Your room’s cute, dude, it’s making my skin crawl like crazy, holy fuck,” she said with a soft laugh, leaning back against your door.

“Don’t make fun of me, you freakin' metalhead! It’s pretty in here and I like it,” you said begrudgingly, “Your room's scary!”

She let out a loud laugh before she acknowledged your glass-guarded instruments, “You still play?”

She nodded towards your protected instruments. You nodded from your bed and excitedly said, “Yeah, come sit! I never had a slumber party before!”

You spent the night quietly watching Peter Pan, gossiping about how in love you were with him and how you wished you could fly. Ellie silently watched you talk with curious, wide eyes as you went on tangent after tangent. You talked about movies you loved and boys you liked (which she playfully gagged at), and music you liked to listen to when you were sad, and she internalized all of it. She had never seen this side of you before, but she was so intrigued that she didn’t notice her own intensity in her own eyes. You just kept going and going before you abruptly stopped, the brightness in your eyes dimming slightly as you looked at her.

“Sorry for talking a lot,” you said, embarrassed. “Am I annoying?”

“‘Course not, squirt,” she said confused, but immediately. “Why the hell would you think that?”

You didn’t say anything, but her affirmation reignited the fire in your eyes as your rambles started up again. She let you talk until you sloppily fell asleep across your pillows and plushies, tv still quietly playing in the background. She gently got up from her position, careful not to wake you, pulled your blankets over your frame, and stealthily left through your sister’s window. She made her way back home, envisioning you playing your violin for her one day.

Ellie became the person that you turned to whenever you needed reassurance. She’d never failed at making you feel acknowledged and seen and heard.

Age thirteen was the first time you anticipated the summer. Middle school had been a very disconnected period for you, and though many of your peers had experienced a sense of helplessness through these trine times of adolescence, yours was slowly overtaking your ability to feel excitement for anything. You had become so detached to the world around you and that annoying, discouraging voice had only spurred on your distance. This dark state that you entered caused you to separate from everyone, including your own family. Your last day of eighth grade was the giddiest you had felt in a long time, and you couldn’t wait to get back to your place of solitude—home.

Your sister entered her element in high school. Much to your mother’s delight, she was able to find a balance between fulfilling her dreams as a musical prodigy while staying afloat academically.

You had been attending your violin lessons for eight years, and though you were blessed with your musical perception, —according to your teacher—you never played in front of an audience. Though your teacher was eager to put you in the children’s orchestra that he trained, your mother did not want to push you into something you weren’t ready for, so she'd always decline politely.

In July, Dina invited you and your sister over to a pool party. Her parents were going to be out for the weekend, and she thought that it’d be the perfect time to be reckless. When you and your sister walked in with your towels and snacks in hand, she greeted you both with an excited squeal, beckoning you both to the backyard. Ellie, Dina’s older sister, Talia, and a few older girls that you didn’t recognize, were already in the water, splashing and laughing.

“Look who just arrived, cunts! My babies, my angels, the lights of my life— “

“Ay, shut the fuck up!” the blonde-haired girl yelled with a grin, causing Dina to flip her off and the others to laugh.

You modestly held your folded towel in your hand, smiling at their interaction. Your sister had already discarded her towel, shorts, and flip flops on a random beach chair before she cannonballed into the pool, causing everyone to swear and splash her. Dina then jumped in right behind her with a shout. They all blended so well, and you curled into yourself. Maybe you should go—

“Get over here, squirt! It’s hot as fuck out here,” Ellie shouted out with a smile, before a girl in a black bikini playfully jumped on her back, planting a light kiss on her shoulder. Something unfamiliar panged in your chest, but you nodded and slipped off your flip flops before making your way over to the pool stairs, slowly submerging yourself into the water.

“You’re still calling her squirt like she’s four, cut it out already,” Dina called out with a snort before she addressed you.

“I’m not sure if your sister ever mentioned anything about these losers but they’re some friends from school, that’s Cat, Abby, and Riley,” she said and pointed them out, “and they’re really fucking annoying—

“Shut the hell up before I drown you,” said Abby with a straight face.

“Yeah, keep talking to me like that— “

“ANYWAYS,” Ellie interrupted, “We missed you kid, where ya been?”

“Just at home, nothing crazy. I’m glad to finally be out, though.” I think I’m depressed, please don’t notice.

“She’s lying, I nearly had to drag her ass outta bed by her feet to detangle her hair this morning,” your sister corrected with an over dramatic eye roll.

“I’m just tired,” you said meekly. “School was hard these past two weeks.”

“I bet it was! Literally no one ever talks about how crazy middle school is! I damn near backflipped off the stage at our promotion,” Riley commented with a head shake, making Abby aggressively nod her head in agreement.

As the side conversations continued, your attention was overtaken by Ellie, who had moved to the opposite side of the pool to whisper something into the short-haired girl’s—Cat, who hasn’t acknowledged you yet—ear, which made her giggle and half-heartedly push Ellie away. The green-eyed girl didn’t budge, wrapping her arms around the girl's waist, pulling her closer and, much to your surprise, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. Cat had a tight grip on Ellie’s olive-green rash guard as she held her and shared soft whispers that you wished you heard. Was that her girlfriend? you thought. You knew Ellie liked girls due to her almost two-year long crush on Riley, which she confided in you and your sister about when she was fourteen. She had wildly knocked on your sister’s window in the middle of the night with a tear-stained face, frantically pacing and claiming that something was wrong with her.

Why the fuck do I want to kiss her and hold her hand whenever I see her?

This is bad, this is really really bad, guys, something’s wrong!

What do I do, how do I stop this!

You had never seen her so defeated, and her wet cheeks and scared eyes made your chest hurt with a sharp stab. Your sister had pulled her into a tight hug and quietly hummed a tune in her ear to soothe her sobs, while you gently rubbed her back and told her that she was going to be okay. She ended up staying the night, dozing off while holding one of your sister’s stuffed animals close to her chest while the two of you held her from both sides. You and your sister hadn’t slept in the same bed since she was six.

As the party slowly died down and Talia, who snuck away to her room much earlier, beckoned everyone inside with a get outta the pool you freaks! you’re gonna prune! from the back door, you all resigned inside to rinse off and change clothes before heading to the living room to watch a scary movie. You silently smacked on your sour gummy worms on the lone lounge chair as you watched Abby, Riley, and your sister cower behind pillows to block the screen while Dina snored loudly, while Cat and Ellie snuggled on a lounge chair. She had her chin propped up on the dark-haired girl’s head to see the screen while she rubbed her back.

As the film progressed, you saw the couple making small movements out of the corner of your eye. Cat began to subtly plant soft kisses on her cheek, neck, and shoulder, causing the auburn-haired girl to smirk, moving her head to the side to give her more access. You saw Ellie pull her girlfriend’s shirt up slightly, rubbing the exposed skin on her hip. You seemed to be the only one who noticed as the girls on the other couch squealed at another jump scare. Ellie and her girlfriend shared a more intense kiss, and you saw a glistening tongue poke out. That made you avert your gaze and you blushed, embarrassed that you were catching such an intimate moment. You quickly got up with a quick excuse of I gotta pee, making your way to the bathroom down the hall. Your face was boiling, and your heart pounded in your chest as you soaked your hands with icy water before wiping them down your face, that voice in the back of your head asking what the fuck your problem was.

You slowly looked up at your reflection in the mirror to center yourself, but your vision started to blur, and hands began to shake. You tried to take deep breaths; you tried you tried you tried but the air left your lungs as quickly as it entered.

Breathe, breathe breathebreathebreathe—

You jumped at the soft knock on the bathroom door, and you ripped it open without hesitation, revealing a concerned Ellie, Dina, and sibling, reaching out and asking if you were okay. How long were you there? You couldn’t speak or breathe or see so you swiftly shook your head no nonono—

Ellie and your sister guided you back to the living room and onto the couch. Ellie squatted down to your eye level, grabbing your face in her warm hands while your sister rubbed your back and Dina held your hand. The other girls’ expressions had been pulled down in concern as they watched your smaller frame tremble.

“Hey squirt, can you do me a favor? Can you breathe with me?”

“Cmon, deep breath in and hold it with me, follow me okay?” Ellie instructed. Your mimicked breaths were choked and broken, but she nodded her head at you in encouragement anyway, gently whispering a that’s it every time you shakily exhaled.

All the girls remained silent but attentive, allowing Ellie to control the situation. Riley had even gone to the kitchen to snag you a glass of water that she set on the coffee table. You tried to match Ellie’s breaths with yours, holding, in and out, holding, in and out, and you eventually calmed down. There was silence for a few minutes before Dina spoke.

“How do you feel, hun? You okay to talk now?” she asked softly while gently caressing your hand. You didn’t know how to answer, so you meekly nodded your head yes.

“Tell us what’s been going on with you. You’ve been so… MIA lately,” your friend noted, cringing slightly at her choice of words.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t know what… what’s happening to me—

“Shh, it’s alright, we’re gonna handle it, just try to relax for now. We’re leaving in a little, anyway,” your sister comforted. You felt Ellie’s calloused fingers gently rub your knee soothingly. You just wanted to lay down.

After some more hugs and forehead smooches from Dina, you and your sister packed up your things and headed home. You weren’t aware, but Ellie met your sister’s eyes with an intense gaze, quietly instructing her before you both left, (“You need to watch her tonight, do you understand? You watch her until tomorrow and you tell your mom what happened the second you get a chance”) which she immediately agreed to.

Your sister had held your hand tightly as you both made your way to your front porch. Your sister pulled out her semiquaver keychain, unlocking the door and quietly trudged inside. Your home was dark, meaning that your mother had already been in bed. Your sister hadn’t released the tight grip of your hand the entire trek upstairs. She opened her bedroom door, silently pulling you inside and made her way over to her dresser. She gave you a giant T-shirt to change into as she put her bonnet on. You both brushed your teeth and washed your face before heading over to her bed. You laid down facing each other, tucked under the blankets. You both looked at each other in silence, but she broke it.

“I want you to tell me why that happened, no bullshit.”

You didn’t reply. You were tired.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.” She pressed on. You noted the desperation in her eyes. Your heart was hurting.

Silence.

Her eyes shut in defeat before she turned her back to you. Your eyes burned into the worn shirt she wore. Just say it, the voice in your head screamed at you, tell her how worthless you are!

Silence.

And then an exhale.

“I think I need to talk to someone.”

You did not expect the rest of your summer to be filled with therapy sessions and journal entries. When your sister told your mother about the events of that night, much to your dismay, she immediately made some phone calls and scheduled sessions twice a week. You had to pause your violin sessions for a few weeks, and you missed it, but you knew this was more important. Your mother expressed her remorse for not paying closer attention to your behavior. Your distance, your lack of energy, your reluctance to speak, your silence—God, your silence. You were screaming without a word. She felt that she’d failed you, and she wanted to do as much as she could to reignite that light in your eyes.

You hadn’t looked forward to these meetings in the beginning, but you soon grew to like your therapist. Even though your feelings were confusing and unfamiliar to you, she was in no rush to get answers out of you. She allowed you to speak at your own pace and listened to every minor detail. She concluded that your self-doubt has bubbled over into anxiety: she recommended you journaling. She wanted you to document one thing that you loved about yourself everyday (“It can be anything: appearance, personality, talents. Whatever you wish. Just make sure you mean it”).

And so, you did.

The next month flew by, the last bits of summer slowly easing into fall, and you were going to start your first year of high school. Your mother and sister had noticed a slight change in your behavior during your break: you started eating dinner with them instead of in your room, asked how their day went, what their week looked like. Your sister would ramble about how stressed she was for her last year but also how excited she was to perform with the school’s orchestra at the December recital and, for the first time in what felt like forever, you rambled back. Your mother had listened from the kitchen as you two gossiped, argued, and even planned to play music together in the future. Her heart swelled. You also started hanging out with Dina, Ellie, Jesse, and your sister a lot more: one night, you followed them back to Joel and Ellie’s garage to watch them freestyle on some of his used instruments. Jesse, who babbled to you about his new love for drumming, demonstrated some techniques he had adapted from Joel on his old drum set while your sister nodded her head along to the beats he made. Dina was already improvising on their brand new sixty-one key keyboard, headphones on to tune out the noise the four of you were making. Ellie, who had stepped away to answer her girlfriend’s call, had her father’s bright green, electric bullet mustang strapped around her chest. She noticed you staring and sent you a thumbs up, you giving one back. She sent you a wink and a smile before turning away to continue her conversation. Your heartbeat increased.

Ellie had become much more attentive after that night at the party. She had always been protective of you, but her desire to talk to you increased tenfold. She would text you fried memes in the middle of the night or leave voice memos about how her dad was helping her customize his old electric guitar. She chattered about wanting to record the entire process for all of you to see.

i feel like if i help my dad with anything he’ll wring my neck :| he’s so particular abt instruments it’s annoying

that sucks :( but at least he cares!! he’s just passionate and wants u to play the best.

he gave it to ME tho. the guitar is mine now!! i should have some input on how it looks be on my side!!! >:/

i am!! just be patient with him. ur gonna be shredding w it soon enough :D

And she also never failed to check in on you for more serious matters, either. She never pressed for information, not wanting to overstep, but she always ensured that you had a safe space to discuss anything you wanted with her. After some of your meetings, you would already have a text from her asking how your session went and what you learned. You would send her voice memos about some of your therapist’s pointers about communication and how you were trying to improve that skill for your family, especially your mom. She also provided some advice about what helped her regain her footing in conversation, joking that no one could ever get me to shut the hell up at the end of the day! that’s for damn sure.

Ellie wasn’t aware, but you started writing about her in your journal, as well. Small, little excerpts of what you liked about her and how she made you feel. How caring she was. How she made your heart beat fast whenever she was around. How strong she felt when she pulled you in for a tight hug while whispering about how she missed you—

Oh.

You were helpless… and gay.

It was late into November. You were fourteen and elated.

Not only had you slowly eased back into music, but you had friends. That you made on your own. You knew that your sister and her friends didn’t want to drag you along everywhere they went, both on and off campus, so you began to explore other paths by yourself. Swiftly after the school year started, you joined the campus orchestra, and while you were terrified, you were excited. Impassioned. Hopeful.

There were all types of groups that passed through the practice room. Students of all grades hung out, ate, and studied there: you were shocked at the number of students that lounged in the designated nerd hotspot during their free time. This is nothing like the movies, you had thought. You noted that the room was not as busy on Thursdays during lunch, and you thought it would be a good time to tune out the outside world and throw yourself into music again. One Thursday, you walked in on a group of juniors whispering and giggling about something you couldn’t hear. You looked around and noticed one of the girls from your biology class—Arya, you remembered—pushed off into a corner by herself, on her knees and hurriedly shoving her things into her backpack. She looked upset.

She looked sad.

The juniors had been talking about her.

You had your violin case and lunch in hand as you slowly made your way past the juniors and in front of her. You noticed her tear-stained cheeks shining under the white light of the room as you got closer. You softly greeted her, making her jump and eyes harden.

“Hey, Arya, you alright?” You whispered, squatting down to her level.

“What do you think,” She whispered back harshly, continuing to shove her books into her pack. “Does it look like I’m alright? If you’re here to laugh you can honestly fuck off.”

You’d flinched at her tone but pressed on. “I didn’t walk all the way here to laugh at you. Let's go somewhere else, we can eat together, if you want!”

You could tell she had questioned your enthusiasm. She looked at you skeptically before looking behind you, at the juniors, and then back at you. You didn’t budge. She slowly rose to her feet, swung her backpack over her shoulder, grabbed her instrument case from the floor—hm, clarinet— and softly nodded. You both leaving caused the juniors to laugh harder.

You didn’t care.

You and Arya have done everything together since that day. She was eager to introduce you to her two friends, Starr and Kris, who you clicked with immediately. The second they sat you down, they raged about how much they hated the writers of Vampire Diaries due to how they treated Kat Graham, how they joked about hating talented people like you and Arya, what they wanted their future weddings to look like (Kris and her Pinterest boards), and you laughed.

You were calm.

You were happy.

Your first year of high school flew by.

Your sister earned her flute solo at the December recital, earning a standing ovation from the audience of students and parents. You and your mother screamed the loudest for her.

At Dina’s eighteenth birthday party, you, Ellie, and your sister walked in on her and Jesse tonguing each other down in the kitchen. Ellie let out a hardy laugh of are you fuckers serious! right in front of my salad? while your sister fell to the floor in hysterics. You had shielded your eyes.

April came around and so did prom season. Your sister said that she had been anticipating the event since seventh grade and you, your mom, and Dina were dragged along to her fitting. She had texted Ellie to come, but she swiftly declined, claiming that she couldn’t hide my fat dick in a dress! love you tho! buy me an elf bar? :3

You missed her so much.

On the evening of prom, your sister, Dina, Jesse, and Ellie all pitched in to rent a limo. Your sister, gorgeous as always, was draped in a strapless, floral gown that cinched her waist and bloomed at her hips and her twists were pinned up to show her neckline and back. Dina wore a flowy, black dress with a leg slit. Ellie and Jesse were dressed to a T in classic black suits, him in loafers and her in beat up Vans with her usual messy, low bun.

Your parents had all met at Joel’s house for pictures and semi-alcoholic drinks. You were touching up your sister’s makeup at Ellie’s desk in her room when you felt too familiar hands pinch your sides with a soft, hey squirt. You jumped, almost mussing up your sister’s liner, causing her to kick the hell out of Ellie’s calf. She feigned an ache before hitting her mint elf bar, blowing it away from both of your faces.

“Don’t fucking play with me right now bitch, I mean it, this is serious business,” your sister had said to her.

“Oh shut the hell up, it’s three hours of musty people dancing, it’s not that serious,” Ellie said before turning to you, “Check your sister, dude.”

“El, please shut up,” you said to her. “Just hold still, I'm almost done, god you’re both annoying!”

You worked as quickly as you could, slightly smudging the liner on her waterline until you were satisfied, “…aaaand done. Tell me how it looks right quick.”

She inspected her appearance, pressing on her baby hairs before turning and giving you a fat smooch, “Thank you baby! It’s perfect, now move, I gotta piss before we go.”

Your sister jumped up from Ellie’s chair, holding her dress up while flipping her off and lightly sprinting down the hall to the bathroom, which left you both giggling.

A bored Ellie had made her way over to her bed while you worked, laid out across it, silently puffing on her nic before saying, “I don’t know how you deal with her sometimes.”

“Me neither, honestly,” you replied, smiling. “Where’s Cat?”

“Somewhere being annoying. We had an argument last night.”

“Yikes, sorry I asked.”

She sat up before shrugging, beckoning you to sit next to her in the bed, “You’re good. She felt a way about my promposal. She went off about me not putting that much effort into the sign I made and waiting until the last minute to ask. It was petty.”

You snorted with a head shake as you watched her breathe menthol out her nose.

“Don’t laugh at my shortcomings! Wait ‘til you get a boyfriend, he’s gonna forget about prom too! It’s dumb.”

You froze. Boyfriend. Boyfriend? You laughed sheepishly with another shake of your head. She noticed your reaction before you could even reply. She smirked in acknowledgement.

“… or partner. Your partner might forget.” She quietly corrected with a sly grin.

“If you say anything I’ll strangle you and burn your corpse.”

“Oh my fucking god, did you forget that I lived in the closet for almost five years straight?! You’re fine.”

She took another puff before asking, “Anybody steal your heart yet?”

“Please be serious, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet. How do you even talk to girls without dying?” You said with a pout.

She almost fell over as she giggled. “You talk to girls like you talk to everyone else, you’re gonna charm them regardless. Trust me.”

You felt your face heat up at the subtle compliment, but you gave her an eye roll and light shove before your sister came trucking down the hallway with her heels in hand. She shrieked out a limo’s here! before flying down the stairs. Ellie took one more long puff of her pale green vape before tucking it into her jacket pocket, wrapping her arms around your smaller frame as she guided you downstairs.

She smelled like mint menthol and pine trees. You loved how she smelled.

Summer came, and you’d fully accepted your big, fat crush on Ellie.

Your journal had been riddled with doodles of her name surrounded by hearts and sparkles, written words of affection through poetry, more hearts and sparkles. You couldn’t stop thinking about her: everything that she said, everything she did, did something to you. But you didn’t know that the fluttering in your chest whenever she was around would be short lived.

Your sister had spent her eighteenth birthday at Cat’s family lake house. As much as you wanted to be a fly on the wall and watch your sister go crazy, you had to settle with viewing her private story from your warm bed on Friday night. It was a mess: she had posted multiple snaps of Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and herself taking shot after shot, chug after chug, until she posted a photo of Jesse’s head hanging out of a second story window with Dina’s hand on his back and Ellie cheesing wide with her two thumbs up, nic in hand. Her next snap, however, made your smile drop from your face.

The footage was a close—too close—up shot of Ellie and Cat making out against the wall. Ellie had her girlfriend trapped between her and the wood, both hands cradling her face as she dominated the kiss. She was grinding her hips up to meet the dark-haired girl’s, pressing her body further into the wall. Ellie then dropped her hands to her girlfriend’s hips, grabbing her short dress in her larger hands to pull her even closer. You barely noticed due to the shakiness of the camera, but you saw the pink glisten of your good friend's tongue swiping up into her girl's mouth before the snap ended.

You'd nearly dropped your phone on your face.

The clip had been hilarious out of context: the loud booming of clap clap clap that ass bitch, shake that cameltoe, lemme see them pussy lips! with your sister screaming and shaking like crazy in the background, Jesse behind the couple hurling his guts out of a window, and his concerned girlfriend pouting with a turquoise bong and lighter in her hand. Anyone would’ve found it comedic gold, but you?

Your stomach had twisted uncomfortably, not only from jealousy, but from a burning, swirling heat.

You dropped your phone on your bed and sat up as angry tears blurred your vision. You knew her and her girlfriend had been on and off for a while now, so why did it affect you so deeply to see them together? How stupid could you be? you thought she wanted you after all this time? a voice that you hadn’t heard in a while said to you. You’d recognized that tremor in your hands and pick-up of your heart, and you knew that you couldn’t be alone tonight. You sent a quick SOS text to your friends in the group chat, desperately seeking comfort. Arya, ever the angel, was the first to respond with a quick and simple omw rn, stealing her brother’s car keys to pick up Kris and Starr and flew straight to your house.

The girls held you while you sobbed, gently shushing you and encouraging you to take deep breaths.

Breathe with me, squirt, there ya go.

You wished that voice didn’t sound so much like hers.

Your sister and her friends had returned home Sunday night, hungover and exhausted like hell. You hadn’t moved from your bed all weekend, and you hadn’t wanted to get up to help her drag her bags in. You immediately recognized the laughter that came from downstairs, and your heart shook painfully in your chest. Their voices were muffled due to your door being shut, but you heard a cheerful I’ll go get her leave your sister’s mouth before the sound of her rushed footsteps flooded the quiet hallway.

You quickly flipped over so your back faced the door, your blanket thrown over your body as you pretended to sleep.

You heard your door open, some shuffling, before it was gently shut again. You listened to your sister shuffle back downstairs and you heard a faint she’s slumped…. tomorrow or something…

Their chatter and laughter continued into the night while you moped in your room. Your phone had pinged around eleven, a pop-up of sleep well, squirt:3 on your home screen.

You turned your phone off and threw it on your nightstand, shutting your eyes, praying for sleep to come.

You dreamt of green and pine trees.

You had begun your sophomore year, and your friends had been a good distraction from the inner turmoil of your heart. During the last bits of your vacation, Ellie had been texting you non-stop, eager to play you the completed version of a song she’d been working on for the past five months. She’d even finished customizing her father’s passed down electric guitar: you only knew because you frequently checked her Instagram, despite the ache you felt in your chest when you saw the posts of her and her girlfriend doing cute couple shit. Her guitar had been airbrushed raven black with silver strings, and a detailed white and green skull that she painted on the body. She’d sent you and your sister the entire video of her creation as promised, but you'd only replied with a dry thumbs up emoji. Her suspicions were correct: something serious was going on with you.

After your sister’s birthday weekend in July, Ellie texted you multiple times to come help her and Dina mix a song and watch movies, but you politely declined saying that you were busy and maybe another time :)! It technically wasn’t a lie: your sister came to your defense when she asked where you were, saying that your trigonometry grade had dropped significantly after your first test, and you were desperate to get it up before your mother noticed. She had accepted that excuse for the first two weeks, but after your sixth reply of busy :( rain check? she got agitated.

She started pressing your sister about your attitude after the first month without your knowledge, but she swiftly got brushed off with a dude, she's studying at her friend's house, can you relax and pack this bowl for me please?

Ellie laid in her bed after her hotbox with her friends, confused as to why you were acting so stiff with her so suddenly. Whenever she came over to your house, you locked yourself in your room and didn’t come out to greet her for whatever reason. She had been this close to marching to your house and kicking your bedroom door down herself before she received a notification that you had updated your private story. She clicked it, and played a video of one of your friends with a flyswatter in hand yelling about how she was a world-renowned mosquito killer until the bug started flying around the unfamiliar room. Multiple shrieks, including yours, were heard before the video abruptly ended.

Ellie swiped up on your story with a quick LOOOOOOL, but she wasn’t laughing. I guess she really was busy doing something, she thought. She felt bad for assuming that you had been purposefully avoiding her, but she was not used to you being unavailable. She was a clingy high, sue her.

She clicked her phone off and hoped she would see you soon.

Ellie’s eighteenth birthday had been two weeks away.

Her birthday never felt like her own; Her dad had always made a big deal about the celebration. He spent hours blowing up balloons for her eleventh, baking cupcakes(even though he nearly burned their entire house down) for her fourteenth, and bragged to the cashier at the vinyl shop about how much of an old soul his baby girl was(“Oh this isn’t for me, my daughter is obsessed with the oldies, I really rubbed off on her, she’s turning sixteen tomorrow and I wanna surprise her!”). She’d never complained, though. She’d never say, but she loved seeing him happy more than anything in the world.

However, her attitude towards her eighteenth birthday had been different. She was eager to celebrate her transition into adulthood with the people she loved the most. She knew that she wanted a slasher themed party with blood and gore everywhere. Her inner horror movie fan had been gasping for water for years, and she was finally going to quench her thirst.

Call her Jason.

You and your sister were arguing about who would dress up as Scream.

Ellie had given your sister an invitation to her big eighteenth, and although you were reluctant about going, your guilt had slowly been gnawing at you. The last message that Ellie sent you was almost three weeks ago: a simple miss u, which you left unread. You thought it was strange how no one acknowledged the tension between the two of you, but you hardly understood it yourself, and you began to feel remorseful.

You owed her an apology, and you planned to do it tonight.

“You’re not dressing up as Scream, bitch, I’m sorry! I got you this Jack the Ripper cape, try it on.” she said as she threw the cape and top hat on your bed.

“Jack the Ripper was racist, fact— “

“Most serial killers are! It’s for aesthetic purposes only! There’s no such thing as a moral compass on Halloween.”

You stared at her with a blank expression, before she resigned, retrieving the fit, “Ugh, fine, go as one of the most iconic slashers in film history, see if I give a damn.”

“Waaaaaa, you mad.” You said with a laugh.

She yelled back a DUH! as she marched down the hall and into the bathroom to change. Your mom wasn’t supportive of the slasher costume party, but she stood no chance against your sister’s persuasive pout and googly eyes.

An hour later, you both were dressed with your gifts in hand as your mother locked the door behind you. You couldn’t begin to imagine the reaction of your neighbors if they peeped out of their windows since Halloween wasn’t for another two weeks. They better not call the fucking cops, that's all I know! your sister shouted out into the quiet neighborhood before you shushed her.

Despite the anxiety in the pit of your stomach, you were eager to see Ellie. You and your sister had pitched in to get custom-made, embroidered guitar pics as her gift: you were hoping that she liked them.

It wasn’t long before you made it onto the Miller residence. Your sister scaled the stairs of their front porch like it was a mountain before banging on the door. It shot open seconds later and revealed Dina, dressed as Freddy Krueger, and Jesse as… Saw.

That mask always made an uncomfortable shiver go down your spine.

They both pulled you and your sister into tight hugs before pulling you further inside to shut the door. The entire downstairs area was lit with red LED lights with faux cobwebs spread across the kitchen and living room walls. You and your sister almost slipped on the fake blood that was splattered all over the wooden floor. There was a giant bowl of tooth-rotting chocolate and a bag of sour gummies on the counter, right next to the multitude of Jason figurines. There was also eerie music playing from Ellie’s speaker near the TV.

You couldn’t believe you had a crush on this loser.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD IM SO FUCKING EXCITED THIS IS GOING TO BE SO MUCH FUN HOLY SHIT— “

Your sister, then Dina, had already been trucking back up the stairs, as they released excited squeals, which only ignited more excited squeals from other voices you barely recognized.

Jesse threw his arms around you as he pulled you inside.

“Bro, where the fuck have you been, I haven’t seen you in ages!” He said, voice muffled under his mask and over the bass from the speakers.

“I know, I’m sorry, school is crazy right now, but I’m here now,” you said with a smile and just as muffled, walking over to the counter to rip open the sour gummy bag. “Are we supposed to be upstairs or something?”

“Nah, Cat and Riley, you remember Riley, are finishing up their costumes. They really went all out with the decor though, I was impressed.”

Your smile fell at the mention of her girlfriend, and you immediately knew that you weren’t going to have fun. You lifted your mask up to shove candied worms into your mouth in attempts to center yourself.

After ten minutes of ravishing the tart candies on the kitchen barstool, you heard quick, heavy footsteps descend the stairs.

You turned to see Ellie, Abby, Dina, Riley, Cat, and your sister descend the stairs, jumping excitedly at your get-up, laughing at your mask. You barely had the chance to stand from your seat and greet everyone before Ellie pushed past them to pull you into a rib-cracking hug. You could hardly move to return the gesture.

“I missed you so much, squirt, holy shit,” she whispered into your ear. You would’ve dropped to your knees if it wasn’t for her grip. “Where have you been, are you doing okay?”

She pulled back slightly to look at your face while both your masks were atop your heads, and you got a good look at her freckled appearance. Her hair was styled in a half bun with multicolored bobby pins holding her bangs back. She was wearing light makeup: her nose and cheeks were gently highlighted, her under eyes had a dark red tinted liner that was smudged with purpose, and she shaved a slit into her eyebrow. She had on a black T-shirt that had been cut and ripped in some parts, black, ripped jeans, and an oversized, dark olive-green flannel. The sleeves were rolled up and you damn near fainted at the subtle lines of an unfinished tattoo peeking out. She also had a plastic version of Jason’s large, bloody machete secured through the belt loop of her jeans.

Holy shit.

Your face was burning hot from how close her face was to yours. “Hi El, I’m fine, happy birthday,” you said quietly, half chewing the worms in your mouth.

You turned to grab her small, wrapped gift box off the counter, softly shoving it into her chest in attempts to distract her from pressing about your whereabouts, and though you noticed her eyebrows pull down in concern, she grabbed the box from your hands before replying a gentle thank you.

Your sister slapped Ellie on the back, breaking up the moment, begging to change the music genre before dragging her to the living room to unlock her phone.

I can’t shake ass to this shit, bitch! Change it now!

I NEED A ONE DANCE, GOT A HENNESSY IN MY HAND—

It was almost eleven. Everyone had migrated to the living room after Ellie finally turned off her summoning demons :0 playlist and allowed your sister to shuffle Spotify’s Top 40 from 2016. After Riley skipped every non-Rihanna song for the first thirty minutes, Abby snatched the phone from her hands and put Drake on. They both were on top of the couch, screaming into wooden spoons like they were microphones while Jesse, Dina, and your sister jokingly popped their backs.

You had fallen back onto a lounge chair to catch your breath from the rigorous jumping you were doing, watching them all sing their lungs out.

You had the opportunity to briefly speak to Abby, who dressed up as a bloody Esther, during Riley’s incessant song-skipping since you never had the chance to genuinely talk to her. She excitedly told you about how she and Riley had been best friends since fifth grade and they both met Ellie in middle school. She cringed when she reminisced on the memory of Ellie giving Riley a glitter-riddled macaroni card for Valentine’s Day in seventh grade. Abby and Riley both graduated a year before your sister and friends did and were sophomores at Boston University, her pursuing her hockey career and Riley studying neuroscience.

The shrilling screams of Dina, Abby, and your sister when Single Ladies blasted through the speakers made you jump in your seat before you got up and made your way into the kitchen for water (and more gummies). Babe you’re not single! you heard Jesse yell to Dina.

You stood at the counter chomping on the sweets, contemplating when would be the best time to speak to Ellie one-on-one. You'd seen her escape onto the back patio, probably to smoke, you thought. You had never been confrontational, and you didn’t want to say something you regretted like hi ellie i’ve been in love with you for years i’m so sorry for ignoring you and iloveyouiloveyou—

Yeah, you’d probably leave with a black eye from her girlfriend if you did that. Just say you're sorry, don’t be selfish, don’t ruin her birthday, don’t ruin her relationship, you thought. now or never.

After your mental pep talk, you took a sip from your glass and shoved a handful of the candies in your mouth as a center. You made your way to the back door and onto the patio. Hot ass mask, you thought before ripping it off your head and tossing it onto the glass patio table.

What you weren’t expecting to see was Cat and Ellie already outside having a conversation, and from where you were standing, it looked intense.

“Why the fuck are you mad about me hugging her when I haven’t seen her in ages?”

And you froze.

“Ellie, if you can’t see that she has the biggest crush on you then you're actually delusional,” Cat spat back at her. “And that wasn’t just a regular hug either! You should’ve seen her face when you grabbed her, it looked like she was about to drop to her knees and propose!”

They couldn’t see you from where you stood and it would’ve been in your best interest to flee before you passed out from embarrassment and loathing, but your feet had been glued to the ground and you were forced to listen to their harsh exchange.

“First off, watch your mouth, I’m not fucking delusional,” the birthday girl heatedly said back. “And no she didn’t! And even if she did it doesn’t fucking matter. She's a fucking kid!”

And you’d felt your heart plummet to your feet.

The remainder of the candies in your mouth felt like sandpaper and you couldn’t swallow. You felt the all too familiar tremors of your hands start to pick up.

“Listen,” you heard her tone soften. “I’m in love with you, okay? I love you, and I don’t want to be with anyone else. I don’t think about being with anyone else.”

The sharp gasp you sucked in made both heads turn towards you in shock, and your teary eyes locked with wide, green ones.

You wanted to fall through the floor and die.

Cat scoffed and shook her head as if to say see what I mean before she puffed on her—Ellie’s—vape.

Ellie’s call of your name snapped you out of your stupor, your feet moving before your brain could tell them to, clumsily shuffling your way back into your heartbreaker’s home, sliding the door shut with a loud slam.

Everyone who’d been dancing jumped at the sound, turning to take in your ruffled state as their energetic smiles slowly dropped in concern.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Dina said gently over the still loud music.

Your sister called your name out with worry in her voice. You looked into her eyes with a head shake before you choked out a reply.

“Can we… I wanna leave, please, now.”

a/n: heyyyy lol so yeah thats that ig. if anyone even reads or sees this fic plss be nice to me ive never written anything like this b4. idk how long this will be but its def gonna be long,,, lots of ground 2 cover w this universe this game is everything 2 me and so is ellie so ye bye lolz

read pt 2 here :D

1K notes · View notes

keouil · 5 months ago

Text

as long as the sun remains the sun

"rise and shine, boys!" mattsun yells over the drowsy first years, banging pots and pans together. "rome wasn't built in a day!" "we're japanese!" tsukishima barks. 5k. iwaizumi/oikawa/kageyama. camping!au. also on ao3.

Asahi is the one who breaks first.

“WHAT THE FRICK!!” came a decidedly shrill, possibly embarrassing, surely pathetic scream from over all the way at the other side of the camp that had Iwaizumi snap his head in that direction and Oikawa inch closer to him almost imperceptibly.

"Don't tell me—" Suga shakes his head at the same time Daichi curses low under his breath, "What now."

A dozen things happen at once in rapid succession.

Noya sprints to the direction of the voice, Hinata close on his tail because he was basically His Tail. Ennoshita scrambling after them after Suga hissed at him to not just stand there and follow. Yahaba quirking an eyebrow at the elementary choice of a curse word, Narita catching his judgment and getting all up in his space until he apologized, Tanaka acting as his back-up.

Daichi, who had so far been in the middle of a passionate rant detailing Karasuno’s dependability when it came to these things—What things, Mattsun interjected. Roughhousing and getting our hands dirty, Suga supplied proudly—when Asahi all but debunked it in less than the time it took for Makki to count heads as soon as they arrived at the campsite.

“Your kid is missing,” Makki comments, looking over the list of attendees.

“Ours?” Oikawa asks, at the same time Daichi stands up, “Probably mine.”

Makki looks back and forth between them, suddenly feeling unsteady on his feet and fumbling around for an out. Iwaizumi knows exactly the reason why, and voices it out loud for everyone to hear: “It’s Kageyama.”

Again, a dozen things happen at once.

Daichi gasps out in horror, head whipping around the campsite.

Mattsun palms his forehead, already dreading the absolutely normal reaction he was absolutely going to get from Oikawa.

Suga decides he wants to permanently end Iwaizumi’s life for the multiple grave offenses he’d been committing against his soul throughout the day: getting the last window seat on the bus, being a loud snorer, breathing near him and making it his problem, choosing gluten-free marshmallows at the rest stop like a deranged psychopath. He told him as much at check-out, You’re a deranged psychopath and I don’t trust my first years with you, Suga admonished. Likewise, Iwaizumi replied, looking menacingly down at the copious amounts of sugary pastries in his basket. And you’re not feeding my first years this shit.

And really it was that bold and unfounded sense of entitlement that had Suga adding another box, more out of sheer spite than anything as he passed him, glaring, Watch me.

"We've been here less than an hour," Makki looks around in confusion, exasperated. "How have we already lost one of them. What exactly could have happened in less than an hour."

Suga and Daichi look at each other.

"Hinata," they say at the same time.

They find Kageyama lost in the woods.

It’s Iwaizumi, best tracker on the team and just generally more adaptable to wilderness survival, who finds him holding onto his duffel bag for dear life under the bark of an ancient looking tree. He apparently challenged Hinata to a race on who can get to the campsite first and got thoroughly sidetracked by the similar looking trees and having ostensibly no sense of direction or self-preservation, huddled in an open area easily accessible to rain or wild animals.

Iwaizumi sighed and mentally noted for later: Teach Kageyama basic life skills, that he then revises to, Make Sugawara teach Kageyama basic life skills.

“Kageyama,” he says, approaching the clearing. Kageyama’s head snaps up and the look of such open relief on his face tugs at Iwaizumi’s heart a little, because it really was so easy, to slip into a senpai complex for someone like him. “You okay?”

Kageyama blinks. "I-Iwaizumi-san," he starts hesitantly, standing up on shaking legs. "I—"

"Got lost," Iwaizumi answers for him. "I know. We've been looking for you for a while."

Kageyama flushes. "You have?"

"You mean you haven't been hearing your vice captain call your name bloody for the past hour?" Iwaizumi tries for a joke. Only it's not really, because Suga was swearing himself raw, if not for Daichi reminding him to preserve his voice for later.

But Kageyama still just blinks, still so disoriented, still so wet behind the ears no matter the facade he puts up.

"Right then," Iwaizumi clears his throat, beckoning him over. "Let's go."

Kageyama all but trips over his feet to follow after him, clutching his bag even tighter to his chest as he hangs off Iwaizumi’s every word.

“The next time you find yourself lost in the woods,” he starts explaining. “Try tracking the movement of the sun.” When he looks over to check if Kageyama was listening, instead notes the absolute gobsmacked expression on his face in return, amends just as quickly: "Oh, he says. “You can just — follow the sunset.”

Kageyama begins vehemently nodding, scrambling to get a notebook out and listing all the other things Iwaizumi was rattling off about when it came to Camping Survival 101. Don't eat this, he points to a patch of enticing ivy. Only drink from fresh water sources like rivers or streams, he adds. But if you find yourself in a pinch, carve out an opening from a tree and wait for the water to follow.

By the time they make it back to camp, Oikawa has half the Karasuno team—and some of Seijoh—in a formation line much like a militant officer does with its army lines, barking out orders to fan out across the different areas of the campsite. Go to the forest, ordered Oikawa at Noya. Try the trail behind the waterfalls, he yelled at Kyotani.

Daichi and Suga sported uniform looks of indignation as Oikawa looked an hour away from splitting his hair out in frustration.

“If someone doesn’t get Tobio back by midnight,” he warns the rest. “I swear to G—”

Iwaizumi coughs.

Oikawa doesn’t turn, doesn’t even acknowledge his return. He senses it, Iwaizumi knows, the change in the air and the very real presence Kageyama takes up in any space. So instead his shoulders just stiffen, tilting his head their way just so.

“I mean,” Oikawa coughs, loudly and not at all awkwardly. “Tobio can sleep in the rain for all I care!” he claps. “Right then, back to unpacking!"

Naturally, as with all order of things, sleeping arrangements go by as smoothly as everyone expects.

“No.”

“At least look at it.”

“No.”

"You didn't even look!"

"I said no."

Yamaguchi looked like he was tempted by the devil himself to throw a log Kunimi’s way. “Oi,” he hisses, growing annoyed. “What’s so wrong with this sleeping bag? It’s the same as everyone else’s.”

Kunimi cast a bored glance at the pack Yamaguchi was holding up, all neatly folded and prepped for use. “It’s orange,” he deadpans. “I hate orange.”

“It’s just a color!” yells Yamaguchi. “It functions exactly the same!”

“Then why don’t you use it?” Kunimi lifts a brow. Behind them, they can hear Hinata yelling at Kageyama to move his sleeping bag by the outskirts of the camp, his longer than usual pack taking up half the space designated for the first years. Kindaichi looked equally awkward trying to fit himself and his belongings in what little space they were allowed to take up. “If it’s basically the same thing anyway?”

Yamaguchi breathes once, twice. “It’s not for me,” he explains slowly. “None of our sleeping bags fit Tsukki. He needs a longer one like Kageyama’s.”

Kunimi crosses his arms in defiance. “And that’s my problem because?”

Yamaguchi has half the mind to call out for Daichi, or Iwaizumi, or literally anyone else who could demonstrate even a modicum of empathy so clearly lacking in Kunimi.

"You don’t even need it!” he gestures wildly to the mint green one by his legs. “You can use the large one like everyone else’s! Tsukki can't use anything else but extra large!”

Kunimi huffs, brushing past him. “I’m not like everyone else,” delivered in the same cadence as a main character in a 2000s romcom who finally decides she's better than everyone and doesn't need a man to fulfil her needs both emotionally and physically.

"What the fuck," Yamaguchi swears under his breath as he stared after him.

He turns his head in time to see Hinata and Kageyama running around and demanding Kindaichi to share his insect repellant spray, along with some of the manga he brought, telling him to not be so selfish and stop hoarding all the survival items. Iwaizumi stops them all with a glare and forces Kindaichi to share, Hinata to shut up, and Kageyama to let him know if he needs anything else.

"What the fuck," Yamaguchi swears under his breath as he stared after them.

By the time dinner rolls around, everyone is either pissy (first years), amused (second years), or elated (third years).

They were all lounging about the makeshift campfire that took all afternoon to build, the warmth of the fire lighting up everyone's features along with the moonlight streaming in through the gaps in the trees. It was unusually cold that night, a breeze in the air that began from deep in the forest until it tapered out to just north of chilly in their site. But even so, the expressions on everyone's faces felt far more frosty.

Oikawa is the first to pick up the tension.

He leans over to whisper as much to Daichi, who was busy arranging the logs in the fire. “I think,” he starts curiously. "Something is going on."

Daichi looks up to survey around the camp, taking stock of his own kin and then some.

Hinata and Kageyama are, predictably, huffing and puffing and very pointedly looking away from each other because God knows what and who has the time. Yamaguchi has been apologizing for the better part of ten minutes, very nearly close to begging to a Tsukishima who hasn't even so much as glanced his way, because God knows what and who has the time. Kunimi and Kindaichi are the only ones who at least look mildly cohabitative, but then again Daichi thinks he’s never seen them be anything but bored and nervous, respectively and in equal measures.

His eyes trail over everyone—in various states of pissed, amused, elated—before giving up and shrugging, “God knows what and who has the time.”

But evidently, Suga and Iwaizumi do.

“Well well well,” Suga cooes, straddling up to where the first years were, sensing turmoil between Yamaguchi and Kunimi. "What say we turn those frowns upside down?"

"Oh god," Yamaguchi audibly groans into his hands. "Please stop."

Kunimi looks on in horror at a grinning Suga, slowly inching away from the fire before Iwaizumi clamped a hand on his shoulder, "Not so fast."

Yamaguchi and Kunimi lock eyes in a rare moment of unity. There was an internal conversation happening in the span of a second, before both of them, as if on cue, break open.

"HE WON'T GIVE ME HIS BAG!"

"HE WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Iwaizumi puts both his palms up. "Bedside voices, boys," he chides, stern. Suga instinctively took a step back at the sound, but rights himself on time as he comes up next to Iwaizumi. "Yes yes," he agrees. "What he said."

Across the crackling of the fire, Daichi looks on impassively as Oikawa sports a drool.

"Think we should do something?" Daichi nods to the almost ridiculous scene of Yamaguchi and Kunimi both kneeling by the dirt, heads bowed low in shame as Iwaizumi rattled off about team camaraderie and the importance of communication. Suga was animatedly agreeing along to whatever he was saying and sporting his own That's right! That's right! comments from time to time. "We are technically their captains."

"Captains, shmantains," Oikawa mumbles distractedly, and when Daichi turns to look, notes in annoyance his attention wasn't even directed at the scolding but more so the matters of Iwaizumi's backside in shorts. "We do enough. We work hard. We earned this."

Daichi coughs awkwardly. "Earned what, exactly."

Oikawa doesn't even budge, stars shooting out of his eyes as he gave possibly the most obvious and inappropriate once-over Daichi has ever seen in his life. And he's seen Tanaka with Kiyoko.

"This," he says, gesturing to Iwaizumi and in Oikawa's words, "glorious display of aesthetic athleticism."

They threaten everyone with suicide runs the next morning.

If there was anything at all both third years unanimously agreed on—aside from their perverse sense of ownership over exactly who it was that raised Kageyama, with Iwaizumi putting up a surprisingly good fight—it was the equally perverse sense of joy they derived from torturing underclassmen. The sun was glaringly bright, the blue of the clouds so open, and the ringing voices of their seniors all the more jarring.

"Rise and shine, boys!" Mattsun yells over the drowsy first years, banging pots and pans together. "Rome wasn't built in a day!"

"We're Japanese!" Tsukishima barks, putting the covers back up on his head.

Suga just yanks his blanket from his sleeping bag, earning him a death glare he expertly deflects with a smile that was deceptively way too chipper for someone he swears he heard yelling at Daichi during Golden Week to shut his phone up or he was going to hurl it across the Pacific Ocean.

"Japanese, Yappanese," Makki strolls over to shake Kageyama and Hinata off of their matching sleeping bags. "Today, you're all under our command."

Hinata just rolls over Kageyama.

Kageyama just lets him.

Makki curls a brow, a single foot raised to kick them before Oikawa gets there first, pushing him away. "I got it," he says. "Jesus Christ, Makki, they're children."

"We're sixteen!" bites out Tsukishima again, who was now being forcibly dragged by Mattsun along with Kunimi and Kindaichi to the shower stalls. "And we have legal rights! My brother will hear about this!"

"Your aniki will be glad someone finally put your spoiled ass in place," Daichi declares, trying to separate Hinata from their tangle of limbs. From his peripheral, he can see Asahi gently trying to get Yamaguchi to stop mumbling in his sleep. "He sends his regards by the way! Saeko-neesan too, Tanaka!"

"Tobio," Oikawa crouches, rocking his sleeping bag. "Tobio," he says again, shaking his shoulder. "Tobio," he hisses directly next to him. Nothing. Oikawa breathes once, twice, before standing up and very pointedly bringing a leg up to stamp on him before Iwaizumi, too, beats him to it.

"What the fuck," he swears, putting a hand out to stop him. "So much for them being children!"

Oikawa has his mouth open to retort, before a ball of orange fur snowballs its way past them and lumps itself together again with the black mass that was Kageyama. They hear Daichi stomping over the next second, cursing under his breath at Hinata for once again getting past him.

"Kageyama.." Hinata mumbles into his hair sleepily, and to their horror, sees Kageyama actually melting into the embrace almost unconsciously. "Think... someone's calling.. Let's.. ignore.. if.. Tsukishima."

By the time they wrangle everyone awake and slap water on their faces, Daichi and Oikawa are only too happy to introduce them to the 10-km hiking trail everyone was required to complete.

"Mind," recalls Oikawa, looking over his nails in boredom. "We heard there were some snakes in the more woodsy areas."

"Bears too," adds Daichi, grinning.

"Bears too," affirms Oikawa, also grinning.

Kyotani and Tanaka try to run.

Iwaizumi hauls them both back by the necks of their shirts, all pearly white teeth in the shit-eating grin on his face when he dumps them back on the line. Hinata shudders and rapidly gets his phone out, shaking hands wobbly typing out his last will and testament to an incoherent text meant for Kenma; when a hand shoots out to yank it out of his hands. Mattsun, grinning down on him like a feline cat, as he then began patting everyone down and demanding they surrender their electronics. Next to him, they can hear Yamaguchi pleading for his life to a bored Makki.

Suga doesn't answer to a single one of their cries for help.

Asahi just hid cowardly behind him.

Daichi whistles to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright then,” he grins over the growing crowd and uses their agony to fuel his adrenaline higher. Oikawa was doing the same. “With this, we formally welcome you to the Annual Karasuno-Seijoh Summer Teambuilding Camp!”

Oikawa’s smile fades a little at that. “I thought we agreed on Seijoh-Karasuno?”

“Are you perhaps a secret fujoshi?” Daichi asks innocently.

Oikawa blinks. “I—” he starts, unsurely, ignoring Suga chuckling behind him. “I don’t particularly think so, no.”

“Then it doesn’t matter,” Daichi snaps, turning his attention back to their first and second years who were only growing more creative with their complaints and vain attempts at getting out of the day’s torture activities.

"I sprained my ankle," whines Hinata.

"You're our fastest runner," rebuts Suga.

"I'm allergic to trees," pipes Kindaichi.

"Not a thing," offers Mattsun.

"My sister said no," weeps Tanaka.

"You wanna try that again?" warns Daichi.

Iwaizumi clasps his hands together. "Enough!" he booms. If Oikawa inched closer to him in turn, everyone has the good foresight to keep their mouths shut about it. "Are we doing this or what?"

"Y-yes, Iwaizumi-san!" the first and second years chorus.

Now both Oikawa and Daichi's faces fell.

"Why do they always only listen to him?" wonders Suga, falling into step with the third years at the rear of the line. The first years were ahead, yelling and grovelling and swearing all their seniors rotten. It was music to their ears. "Is it like an alpha thing?"

"Most definitely an alpha thing," muses Makki, who also falls into step beside him. "Have you seen the way even Oikawa looks at him? Omega ass behavior."

They take their first break after three hours.

Or, maybe it was more accurate to say, Tsukishima wouldn't stop grinding everyone's ears about the asthma condition he conveniently picked up within the first thirty minutes despite Suga knowing from Kiyoko no one on the team had such an autoimmune disease, that then suddenly morphed into an apparent life-threatening mutation that was going to kill him and everyone around him if he didn't let his body pause to take a break now, right now, this instant; that had Daichi snapping at everyone to take five.

"Oh thank god," Tsukishima wheezes, falling to his knees.

"Tsukki!" came Yamaguchi's predictable cry of concern no sooner.

Most of the first years are sprawled out on the ground, chests heaving and breaths coming out in pants. The second years look as equally insufferable, but are too prideful to show any form of weakness to the third years who all but look like they just came out of a sports magazine photoshoot. There wasn’t a sliver of disorientation or a hair out of place. Iwaizumi even passed around the loot bags they had apparently so lovingly, out of the goodness of their hearts, prepared for them while they were all sleeping the night before.

Only the best for our cute kouhai! singsung Oikawa gleefully.

Be thankful we even remembered to bring snacks for you forgetful brats! scolded Daichi sternly.

Hinata gingerly brings himself back to life, dragging his aching bones and his pack to where most of the first years converged purely out of a symbiotic survival instinct to band together against exploitative seniors. They were already angrily in a discussion about something, something that sounded much like plotting for the demise of Oikawa.

Or Daichi.

Or both.

"Do you know what they're feeding Goshiki right now?" Hinata seethes in a low voice, eyes darting around in alarm. "Fresh bread and crepes. Crepes. And what has Iwaizumi-san fed us so far?" he frowns down at the loot bag. "Fish crackers. Frog legs. For nutrition. Jesus Christ."

Kunimi grimaces, rubbing at his sore neck. "Welcome to the club."

"Have they always been this insufferable?" groans Tsukishima, angrily munching on a fish cracker.

"Oikawa? Yes," Kunimi replies. "Iwaizumi? Also yes."

"Oikawa-san is usually nicer," Kindaichi offers, breaking off a piece of a protein bar he snuck into his pants that morning to split with Kageyama and Yamaguchi. "But Iwaizumi-san is a dictator, yes."

"Can confirm," Kageyama adds, after mumbling his thanks.

"Shut up!" Tsukishima hisses, yanking his share of the snack and shoving it in his mouth. "They basically pamper you!"

Kageyama points to himself incredulously. "M-me?" he stammers. "Daichi wouldn't give me another blanket because he told me children in third world countries didn't even have a roof over their heads and to not be so selfish, Kageyama. We raised you better than this, Kageyama," he mimes hotly. "And I'm the spoiled one?!"

Now it was Hinata's time to be annoyed. "Remind me again who was it that Oikawa-san made sure to get extra servings of rice last night."

Yamaguchi was only more than happy to pile on. "And who Iwaizumi-san made sure got warm water for his bath."

Kindaichi, surprisingly, also joins in. "And who warned me and Kunimi a day before the trip to be nice to Kageyama."

"Can confirm," is all Kunimi says, stealing Kindaichi’s insect repellant spray from Hinata's pack.

"A little more to the left, Kunimi."

...

"More."

...

"More."

...

"Are you an athlete or what? Tilt further and higher than that! More!"

...

"Daichi-san," Kunimi starts slowly, struggling to hold up the fishing pole that was already struggling to break with how brittle it was. Behind them he can hear Oikawa and Iwaizumi using far less harsher words to Kageyama and Hinata.

"This," he croaks out, "is my more."

They were somewhere by the open river, honest to gods fishing for their keep because someone—aka Iwaizumi—got it inside Daichi's and Suga's heads that real men should earn their keep and not wait to be fed. Nevermind all of them were literal minors and had literal permission slips signed to delegate these seniors with their lives in the event something should happen. Nevermind all of it was legally binding. Nevermind the second years didn't even bat an eye as soon as Iwaizumi got the fishing poles and worms out, apparently already expecting this method of torture from the previous year.

Tsukishima of course put up a riot.

He sputtered out and about as he rallied for the perfectly good rations they had back at the campsite and even volunteering himself for cooking duty if that was the problem. Makki and Mattsun were only too happy to tug him along to the deepest end of the waters, hunking him down and forcing him to wield the longest fishing pole they had. Might as well use that height for somethin', Makki quipped, Rather than just bitchin' and moanin'. Yamaguchi was tasked with the gruesome chore of feeding the live worms to his bait, his features squeamish and disgusted. Y-you can do it, Tsukki!

"Ease up on him a little, Daichi," Suga teases some ways near them, helping Kindaichi keep a line steady.

"I will if he would just tilt to the left," Daichi warns, arms impatiently pointing to the side. Kunimi groans again, digging up some of his reserves to wield the stubborn line that wasn't budging this way and that. "It's really not moving!"

"You're just not tilting hard enough," demands Daichi.

"I am!" cries Kunimi, a bead of sweat trailing down his jaw.

"More!" barks Daichi, insistent. "Unless you're okay with Kindaichi one-upping you?"

Kunimi's head snaps to Kindaichi, who was raising about a 15-inch slapjack hooked to his pole, along with the world's most shit-eating grin he wants to wipe off. Suga was beaming up at him proudly and yelling out his accomplishment for all of them to see and hear. Cries of congratulations and envy are volleyed throughout the stream. He sees foam rise out of Kageyama's ears as he huffed and rolled on his line even more fervently, an amused Iwaizumi telling him to go slowly and Oikawa taunting Hinata to do the same.

"Let this be a lesson to you boys," Suga jeers across the field. "If you have a good mentor, the rest will follow!"

All the third years lock eyes.

They dine on the entire sea that night.

The training camp ends with an old-fashioned bbq party.

Iwaizumi was on the grill with Daichi and Asahi, moving in a routine that’s far smoother and more amicable than the rough patch they started with. They find out Iwaizumi is particularly adept at manning the grill and flipping the meat over, all grunt work and being the only one of the two who actually followed through with his verbal warnings to any of the first years who kept trying to sneak an early bite.

I wouldn't do that if I were you, he warned to a stunned Yamaguchi. Unless you want this knife aimed somewhere lower.

Daichi, in charge of seasoning and Asahi with prepping, deft and nimble hands making quick work of both; don't even bat an eye when they see Iwaizumi set aside three plates he starts unceremoniously piling up with the leaner portions of meat.

Kunimi and Kindaichi are a given—Daichi pleasantly surprised to see him gentle somehow where they are concerned—but it's Kageyama who still comes as a surprise.

"Are they related or something?" Asahi whispers, oiling some of the grill grates. "Maybe cousins? Kageyama does look a little like him."

Daichi shakes his head, rubbing a thin layer of salt and pepper to a piece of chicken thigh. "I don't think so," he admits. "Just former teammates, I think."

Asahi nods along. "And Oikawa?"

"What about him?" pipes Iwaizumi, having overheard part of their conversation as he transfers some leftover charcoal Hinata brought to the pile. "What about Oikawa?"

Asahi flushes a little. "Oh," he says. "It's just that he's — well —"

Iwaizumi gestures for him to go on.

"He seems—" Asahi continues, unsurely. "I don't know. Like he wants to both kill Kageyama in his sleep and feed him until he fattens up like one of those kids from Hansel and Gretel."

Daichi suppresses a laugh.

Iwaizumi just looks amused. "Actually," he surmises. "I think you got everything right. Definitely the feeding part, at least. It’s why he’s threatened me to set aside all the leg parts for Kageyama since this morning,” he chuckles. “But we're working on the killing part."

Everyone is only too happy to be fed normal food for once.

The sun was just shy of setting around the campsite, hues of golden orange and pale yellow streaking the place in a healthy, lovely glow. The sounds of birds chirping and flitting about the pine trees are a welcome break from all the yelling, the wind at just the right temperature to be breezy and warm.

Hinata, especially, is overjoyed with all of it. "Waaa!" he gushes, all bright eyes looking up at Iwaizumi who handed him his plate he filled with extra enoki mushrooms. "This looks soooo good, Iwaizumi-san!"

Iwaizumi blushes, looking away. "R-right," he stammers. "Yes. Um. Eat—well, then."

At his side, he can feel Suga eyeing him knowingly. "You can say it," he says, setting up the drinks. "Hinata is very cute and will feed your senpai ego well."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” mumbles Iwaizumi, assembling the next plate.

The rest of the afternoon goes swimmingly. The sounds of easy laughter and open conversation flowing seamlessly throughout, seniors and juniors alike mingling. Asahi manages to hold a conversation with Makki and Mattsun that doesn't end with him sweating buckets at potentially overstepping anything he says, the Seijoh third years only too happy to know he was also a fan of the Sendai Frogs and was he looking to go pro after highschool, they wonder?

Tanaka and Noya were in a heated discussion with Yahaba and Kyotani, both parties having very spirited opinions on whether Kubota Sayu or Fujino Ryoko were the representatives of 2000s actresses for Nippon cinema. Daichi was giving even more pointers to Kunimi about fishing, Kindaichi not even bothering to hide he was listening in and Suga only too happy to use his distraction as a way to funnel more meat into his plate.

Oikawa was busy fussing over Kageyama in his usual roundabout way, frowning down at the lack of vegetables in his plate and blaming Iwaizumi for sabotaging the child's health intentionally. I know he's our rival and everything, Iwa-chan , Oikawa chides. But doesn't he deserve nutrition too? Iwaizumi gave him an amused look, perhaps knowingly, Oikawa not budging an inch. Iwaizumi relents and goes back to fetch an entire plate full of hijiki seaweeds and cucumbers and seasoned radishes.

Kageyama flushed at all the food and attention, but where those two were concerned, he's long since learned it was best to just let them have their way unless they argue and make it everyone's problem. Again.

Towards the end it's Daichi who approaches Oikawa first, two cups of yuzu in hand. "Think we did okay?"

Oikawa looks over at him, smiling in a skittish way, before accepting the drink. "I think," he takes a sip. "We did better than okay."

"Stellar endorsement from The Great King," Daichi teases. "Want to do it all over again next year?"

"There won't be a next year," Oikawa reminds him, an inflexion of something to his tone.

"Ah," Daichi blinks, and then: "Right."

Oikawa bumps shoulders with him. "But there's still be the next spring, and summer, and winter."

"Tsukishima might actually kill me if I even suggest we do something like this out in the cold," Daichi is quick to stop him. "Like actually kill me this time I think."

"Kageyama doesn't do well during winters either," Oikawa finds himself saying almost reflexively.

Daichi catches on, because of course he does. "Right," he says, smirking knowingly. “Of course.”

Oikawa blinks, unable to look at him. "R-right," he coughs awkwardly, before gesturing to the rest of the crowd. "Well then. Just as long as you stop threatening to make fishermen out of my players, I guess we can clear our schedule for you."

"And just as long as you stop trying to claim my first years as yours," Daichi's spread grins wider. "Then we would be more than happy to do this with you all over again, Oikawa-san."

#iwaoi #oikage #iwaoikage #karasuno #seijoh #kageyama tobio #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #fic

17 notes · View notes