#But there’s a point where I don’t want to cross a line and spamming/flooding inboxes anonymously isn’t really a great way to do that

[nikki-tine]

CONTACT YOUR GOVERNMENT AND DEMAND A CEASEFIRE FOR PALESTINE

For Eu look up:

Voices in Europe for peace

For Usa look up:

US campaign for Palestinian rights

BOYCOTT FOR PALESTINE

FOA (Friends of Al-Aqsa) have organized a boycott in support of palestine. Here are the key companies to boycott:

HP (Hewlett Packard)

Coca-Cola

Israeli produce

We will be ending our call to boycott PUMA once the contract with IFA officially dissolves in 2024. Until then, we encourage you to continue boycotting PUMA products.

Please help to spread the word by sending this copypasta to as many blogs as you can and/or going to FOAs website where you can find posters to download and print out

While I may not be sending asks to every blog I know (that is a very VERY fast way to irritate a grand number of people), I will be leaving this up on my blog for those to reblog.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

It’s really nothing new to have a flood of texts and emails spamming his phone after class. The fact that it’s nothing new these days is very new. It’s such a wild change from how things were before he came to Iwatodai that sometimes it’s overwhelming. Minato actually kind of enjoys it despite that– or maybe a little bit because of it– even if he does leave most of them on read.

He’s never had so many friends before. If he’s completely, brutally honest with himself about it, he’s really never had any friends before. None that really counted, anyway. None that had stuck around after one too many conversations where he said too little, or worse– said something they didn’t want to hear.

Now he has a whole compendium of people who know exactly what he’s like and still not only tolerate his company, but actively seek it– and all of them want to hang out at the same time. So now it’s the opposite problem, maybe?

Most of them understand and don’t take offense. Sometimes Tomochika and Miyamoto are a little pushy– or very pushy in Miyamoto’s case– but otherwise it’s fine. It’s a much nicer problem to have, all things considered. It’s been what’s kept his head above water for the past two weeks.

Minato scrolls through his phone, reading through today’s invitations. The track team does have practice today, and lo and behold, there’s Miyamoto’s trademark capslock enthusiasm right at the top of his inbox– but that’s not what grabs his attention. Just below Miyamoto’s is a message from someone he definitely wasn’t expecting.

It’s Aragaki. The subject line reads “Need a favor”. 

Minato can count on one hand the number of times Aragaki has messaged him personally, so it must be important. But then why not say something about it when everyone had visited yesterday? He opens the email, curiosity climbing.

Sorry to ask, but I need you to grab something from my desk and bring it to me. You’ll know it when you see it. Door should be unlocked. 

Straight and to the point, just like always. He can practically hear how Aragaki would say it, the exact matter-of-fact tone he’d use.

He’s got no proof, but Minato has an inkling as to what Aragaki is referring to. Or at least, he knows what he hopes that Aragaki means. If his hunch is right, then it explains perfectly why he’s asking Minato for this favor instead of Sanada or Mitsuru, and why he wouldn’t have wanted to bring it up in front of everyone else.

He’ll be missing track practice today, it seems. Minato can’t turn down this request for anything. He hopes Miyamoto and Yuko will understand. 

–

He finds exactly what he’d been hoping to find in Aragaki’s desk drawer. 

He can’t help the soft smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth at the sight of  the familiar envelope. On the paperwork inside, the date and reason are blank, but…

The signature is unmistakable. That’s Aragaki’s handwriting. 

His smile falters. A part of him wonders if this is just some kind of mind game. Maybe Aragaki just intends to tear the form up, and he knows Minato is the only one who would blithely bring it right to him. He doesn’t want to think that Aragaki is that cruel, but…

Well. Okay. Minato knows he isn’t. While that’s certainly the sort of sick prank that the world might play on him, it’s not something Aragaki would ever do. He’s kind of surprised that such a vehemently bitter idea even crossed his mind.

So maybe he is still… a little miffed… that Aragaki so blatantly lied to him. And went off to die without a word. And catapulted him into the nightmare memory of another hospital bed, another figure being consumed by wires and machinery. That last one isn’t really Aragaki’s fault, but Minato still can’t help being upset. 

It really is the lie that bothers him the most, though. It’s a little unnerving, how much it’s getting under his skin, when normally Minato wouldn’t be this upset, or even upset at all, about being lied to. Minato hadn’t felt this way when Yukari confronted Mitsuru about all the secrets she was keeping. He hadn’t cared what Mitsuru had been hiding. Honesty just never has been a sore point with him. So…why does this feel so different?

The only way he’s going to get any real answers or closure is to see this favor through to the finish. Minato pockets the envelope and makes his way back to the hospital. 

The smell of antiseptic hits him like a truck as soon as he crosses the threshold into the lobby. How does Junpei stand spending so much of his time here? Or Sanada, for that matter, who had come here every day since Aragaki was admitted. It makes him want to sprint right back out into the open air just thinking about doing the same. 

He arrives at Aragaki’s door. He seems to have skipped a few steps– he’s gone straight from the entryway to the patient wing without a single recollection of speaking to the receptionist or walking through the halls. Aragaki is awake in there, Minato sternly reminds himself. It’s his friend on the other side of that door, not an empty shell that used to be him. 

He knocks, and obeys when he’s bid to come inside. Aragaki regards him quietly for a few seconds. There aren’t any other visitors right now; Sanada must still be in practice.

Minato nods and produces the envelope from his pocket. Aragaki nods as he takes it, but his expression is subdued and unreadable.

He tucks it away into the drawer on the small side table to his left. He looks back at Minato and frowns.

Minato doesn’t respond. Aragaki blinks, surprise softening his features for half a second before the scowl settles back into place.

Minato doesn’t feel his face doing anything in particular. He wonders vaguely what Aragaki sees in his expression, but decides it’s better not to ask. Time to move on.

Minato must be making another face, because Aragaki rolls his eyes.

He’s got permission to leave if he so chooses. That’s clearly what Aragaki expects, but leaving things like this on such a sour note doesn’t sit well with Minato at all. 

Neither of them are good at talking, but there’s quite a bit Minato knows needs to be said. As leader, it really is his job, and… it’s his job as a friend, too.

Aragaki must take his silence the wrong way again and scowls at him.

Part of Minato does really want to tear into him, craves the catharsis of it. Aragaki even seems to want him to as well, as if to prove some kind of point to himself. But Minato doesn’t think there’s anything he could say that Sanada wouldn’t have already. 

Besides, being angry is exhausting. Minato’s already tired enough.

He settles himself in one of the chairs at Aragaki’s bedside and folds his hands in his lap.

“I…want to apologize,” he says.

“Huh?” Aragaki looks surprised again. Minato wonders if having his emotions put on shuffle like that is as draining for Aragaki as it would be for him.

“Everyone else visited you at least once before you woke up, but… I didn’t. I was too scared. I didn’t want to see you like that, Senpai.”

Aragaki just blinks at him, as though Minato’s apology is so far from what he’d been expecting that he’s stuck in a frozen state as he tries to process it. Minato wonders if this is what people mean when they tell him that his long silences and stares make them uncomfortable. 

“You…” Aragaki shakes his head, exasperated.

Minato pushes forward. “So… I’m sorry. For being such a coward.” 

“Cut that out, seriously. You don’t need to– I wasn’t even awake. S’not like I would’ve known if you were here or not.”

“Still.”

“The hell d’you mean, ‘still’? Just forget about it. It’s fine.” Aragaki sighs hugely, and his voice softens when he speaks again. “I mean that. It’s fine.”

“It’s really not though. Not to me. I don’t want you to think I don’t care.”

“You’re really sayin’ that like it ain’t your catchphrase?” Aragaki scoffs. 

“Got me there,” Minato says with another ghost of a smile. Now that he’s on the other end of it, Minato suddenly has a better appreciation of what Aragaki said to him a month ago at Hagakure. It really is refreshing to have someone say something to you straight instead of beating around the bush. “But I’d like to visit now, if that’s okay.”

“...Look, that’s real sweet and everything, but I ain’t really in a chattin’ mood right now.”

“That’s fine,” Minato replies. “Neither am I. I pretty much never am.” He digs into his bag and pulls out a book, opening it across his knees. He runs his thumb over the edge of the pages, worn to moth-wing softness by age. “But I’ll still be here.”

Aragaki doesn’t answer, so Minato shifts his attention fully to his book. He only gets through about a page and a half before Aragaki’s grumbling voice cuts into the silence again. “...Anyone ever tell you you’re a goddamn weirdo?”

“Junpei says that a lot, actually.”

“Hmph. Well don’t tell Junpei I agree with him on that,” Aragaki says, his mouth twisting wryly to one side. “It’ll go to his head.” 

“You got it, Senpai.” 

Aragaki makes a sound that might be a scoff, but might also be a suppressed laugh, and just like that the tension in the air dissipates. The next couple of hours pass mostly in silence, but pleasantly. Minato doles out books to Aragaki, and to Fuuka and Sanada when they arrive. They have occasional fragments of conversation amongst themselves, particularly after Mitsuru arrives near the end of visiting hours.

It feels comfortable, normal. The smell of old paper and bookbinding glue overpowers that of medicinal sterility. Minato even manages to forget, for just a moment, that they’re in a hospital at all.