#it took me actually breaking down and crying to miss a singular day of school | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ayamturd · 4 years ago

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white petals

a/n: Hello there! As anyone who possibly follows my blog knows, I rarely post original content and instead reblog everything lol. However, I originally wrote this short story on the Japanese folklore, ‘Hanahaki Disease,’ for a school assignment and actually liked what I wrote. Looking up to a lot of writers on this platform, I felt proud enough to share my final piece and would love feedback. thanks and enjoy!

Hanahaki Disease def. Hanahaki disease is an illness borne of one-sided love, causing flowers to form and grow in the lungs of the unrequited, the petals coughed up with increasing frequency. The infection can be removed through surgery, though the feelings disappear along with the petals. If the love is not returned, the flowers filling the patients chest will eventually prove fatal.

I hear her screams before seeing her wave frantically. She jumps up and down, quite avidly, before screeching my name once more. Bypassers give her strange looks, some even trying to sight out who she is calling to, but the strong desire to hide within the mass in embarrassment leaves me when she smiles. As if a small puppy trying to behave in reward of a treat, she practically shakes in giddiness until I’m physically a few feet in front of her.

“I missed you!” she yells, shouting it loud enough for the heavens above to hear while leaping into my arms. I almost fall back given the weight of my backpack and the nerves that had yet to settle from thinking of her, the buildup of finally holding her again. I missed this.

“I missed you too!” I tiredly chuckle. The hours of the flight were starting to reach me. She pulls back to pout at the lack of enthusiasm in my voice before giggling, securing me in another hug. It lasts longer this time, as we tighten our hold and burrow our heads against each other. The warmth of her comfort never left me, but being here now to hold it in my arms after too many months encapsulates every memory, every loose thought I could have imagined of her in ten folds. Her smell overwhelms me to the extent that I suffocate in pure bliss, welcoming death if it was to be by her hand.

We slightly rock, embracing each other as long as we can in the given moment. Eventually, no amount of grip can ignore the push and shoves of rushed travelers, strangers that will never truly understand the vulnerability we wear on our backs. I reluctantly step away.

“Hi.”

“Why hello there,” she smirks.

I tower over her and soak in her appearance. Wearing an old hoodie with thick sweatpants, her messy hair encompases her face like a halo, contrasting her beaming grin and hooded eyes. No matter the time of day, she has always had a softness to her that adds to her natural glow. With crossed arms and a tilted posture, she holds her head high in confidence and dangerous boldness; her attitude makes up for her lack of height.

It takes me a second to glance over her twice until I burst out laughing. I struggle to breathe as I choke out my words,

“What the hell are your shoes?”

She gasps and feigns shock, like the true drama queen she’s been since primary school.

“How dare you! I burden myself with waking up at three in the morning, tired as shit, to pick up your ass at the busiest time of the year travel wise to be insulted over my shoe choice? My oldest friend, my supposed best friend, I haven’t seen in months thinks to come up to me and have the audacity to question my beautiful footwear that I decided to bless you with as a welcome home gift?!”

I wheeze so hard that I have to rest a hand on my knee for support, the other coming up to hold my mouth. She continues to rant nonsense while I attempt to gather myself to at least explain their hideousness, though it becomes increasingly difficult as she starts speaking faster, no doubt purposefully trying to make a scene in the middle of the busy airport.

“God, just shut up for one second,” I giggle, quickly pushing my hand against her mouth. I feel the disgusting wetness on my palm, her eyes challenging me as they narrow in defiance, but I know reacting would only play into her satisfaction. I don’t hesitate to wipe my hand on her face as she begins to squeal and turn away. I’m already coughing by the amount of air it takes to laugh and go to squeeze her from behind, hiding myself in her hair and trapping her in my grasp.

“You forgot you were supposed to pick me up, didn’t you?” I whisper in her ear. The rubber trout house-slippers innocently dangle off her feet as the fish basically gap in the harsh, artificial light; a gag gift she must have received from her brother, I assume. She goes still, most likely contemplating her answer given how often she tended to forget things and how often I would immediately torment her for it.

“...No?” she merely meeks.

“That wasn’t a question to be answered with another question” I snicker. Without a beat, she shoves me back to defend herself, arguing sarcastically as we make our way through the crowd. Our banter continues until we reach the van. The damn van. Its ugly, faded mustard paint sticks out like a sore thumb in a sea of cars, like a singular old banana peel squished between piling bags of trash. If my memory serves me right, nothing has changed besides the growing rust and additional stickers on the rear. She stops to look at me once she realizes I paused in my sentence, gently smiling when she recognizes my uneasiness.

“Surely you didn’t forget about Hemlock, did you?” she taunts me, as though she forgot about the numerous times we almost died in the ancient thing. After five years, she’s still clueless to why I chose its name. I roll my eyes, climbing into a crusty seat and slamming the squeaking door shut. She quickly jumps into the driver’s side and plays the current cassette tape in, Marvin Gaye filling the empty air. Tempting me with the beginning lines, those glintful eyes daring me to join her, I willingly give in and sing along.

As if time had rewinded itself, I was back in highschool, sneaking out in the middle of the night in this god awful death machine and trying not to fall for the girl besides me with our terrible singing drowning out the world around us. What I would give for these moments to go beyond our indefinite cordiality; to be able to breathe in her presence without a constricting throat punishing me every time I reminisce in the possibilities. If only I knew then.

I first felt the beginning roots build their way into my lungs when she cried at our Junior class formal, her date leaving her on the dance floor to join his friends outside. The nerve of the bastard. We danced the tears away that night, high on the ecstasy of excruciatingly loud sounds beating from the gym speakers while sweating amongst the bodies enclosing us. Clinging onto each other as we jumped to the music, our cackles were a distant noise to our own ears. As if the hours were within minutes, we escaped the heated space into the cool of the open wind, the moon lighting our path to the nearby playground. I still remember the dazed look in her eyes as she stared at the stars from the ground, amazed at the concept such light could exist by its own force in the emptiness of space. She looked at me that night with wonder that rivaled the stars’ beauty above us, telling me,

“I feel like I don’t deserve you sometimes,” pausing to look back up at the starry night. “I’m so glad I always have you by my side.”

I held my lips tight as I tried to keep my spirits high, a silent promise to prioritize her current feelings above mine despite her innocent words threatening to break open my dams. As if someone physically took my lungs in their hands and squeezed them together, I hitched my breath, bracing myself from the sudden force. Scared of considering the notion, I tried to fill the silence I left unattended.

“Of course,” I chose to say, “always.”

I went home to cry that night, laying myself on the bathroom floor, for I wailed silent cries that echoed my hiccups against the cold tile walls, the pressure in my chest almost pushing out the last of my sobs before I closed my eyes. Not me, not to me surely.

I coughed my first petal at our annual movie marathon a few months after that, the innocent white leaf laid delicately in my palm in spite of forcing its way from a dry hack. I stared at the small thing with such distaste, hating the ache a single petal could cause and felt tears pool in the corners of my eyes at the thought of how such selfish desires could result in something so daunting in the form of a beautiful flower. The everlasting pressure on my lungs was still present after all this time, yet a part of me was hopeful. Hopeful in believing I could lie to myself until those lies became my reality. The world could be so cruel.

The reality of my possible demise terrified me, scared me to imagine the vulnerability of acting on harboring a simple crush after all these years. She broke me from my train of thought, calling out to me from the kitchen and asking if I wanted anything else besides the popcorn. I opened my mouth to answer, only for sudden dry coughs to rack my body. I could feel a collective bunch grouping itself in my lungs, smothering my airway as each cough kept pressing the petals further and further up to my throat. I was choking on the damn things, individual bits sticking to the roof of my mouth and harboring at the back near my uvula. Before I knew it, I heard her rapid footsteps come towards me on the couch, handing me an open bottle of water as she kneeled in front of me, eyes wide with concern. I greedily chugged the water down, inhaling the water as fast as possible to avoid any hint to my true condition.

“Are you o—”

“I’m fine,” I interrupted. “I’m okay, I swear.” What lies. She obviously didn’t believe me then, but sighed in defeat knowing I wouldn’t hold out further. Just when I thought she would move to stand, she inched closer to my face. A single breath escapes me at the proximity, and before I’m aware, she reaches out to cup my cheeks with her hands, her thumbs moving to wipe my tears I hadn’t realized fallen.

“I won’t push it, I promise. But I’m always here, yeah?” I nodded at her words and slowly raised my hands to grip her wrists, still gently caressing my face. It pained me then, not only because of my recent fit but the burn of her hands on my skin. Her soft touch intoxicated my mind and drew me further into her eyes, honey brown, reflecting the forgotten television screen in the relatively dark room, pouring into my own.

I tugged her hands down. Although desperate for the rare intimate touch we shared in that very moment, I couldn’t handle the shame of craving her touch so badly, for wanting her to sacrifice her own emotions to comfort the ones I felt for her. I left her house abruptly then and there, throwing a fruitless apology and basically running out the front door with a clenched fist on the petal. What a coward.

The following weeks were agonizingly slow. I couldn’t avoid her forever, not only missing important school days but emotionally needing her presence in my life again, her security. Still remaining true to herself, she scolded me from isolating myself when I finally built up the strength to approach her, upset I supposedly was putting her health from my ‘cold’ ahead of our friendship, reassuring me I shouldn’t be afraid to go to her. If only, I wish.

I kept the disease a secret since I understood my worsening condition, mainly not knowing what to do in the first place and illogically ignoring the situation for as long as possible. From excuses such as eating in my room because of ‘late assignments and all nighters’ to dearest demanding mother forcing me to babysit close family-friends’ kids, I only had human interactions when necessary, still keeping my distance so no one was aware of the symptoms I progressively began to show. However, my luck could only take me so far.

I got home late one afternoon, finally allowing myself to spend some time with her at the park on the swings. I called out to greet my mom, and while raw from the rough coughing fit I had during my last class period, I knew she should have heard me and was surprised to be met with silence. I knew of the likelihood that she would have entered my room in search of me since I went out, but I couldn’t help but remain hopeful. I seem to never learn.

Standing in the middle of my doorway was my mother, her back towards me as she seemed to be taking in the sight as a whole, though I couldn’t blame her considering the circumstances. Small, white petals seemed to take up every inch of my room, comparing similarly to snow besides the puddles of blood mixed with certain groups; from my bay window seating area to the trim line on the floor, scattered individual petals all varying in size and color overtook my room and drained the life I once had, each piece a literal representation of me losing myself to this damn disease.

“Mom…” I whispered out. I walked towards her only to stop when I heard her choked sob. She crumpled to the ground, and I did what I could to comfort her from behind, rushing to hold her head to my chest and slowly sway our bodies while on my knees. I tried to keep it in, but eventually I couldn’t physically handle it and rushed to the nearest bathroom to spit out the most recent build up of flowers. It was getting more painful to keep going with the routine, holding in the coughs as much as possible only to throw them up in one single go. There would be moments where I struggled to fully spit them all out, almost suffocating on the petals and forced to sit over the toilet, wondering if this was the place I died.

As I hacked out the last of the petals I had the strength to with the metallic smell invading my nose, I laid my head on my arms, pathetically strewn on top of the toilet seat, I felt her presence and slowly looked up. My mom’s mascara ran from her eyes, most likely smudged when she tried to calm herself before approaching me like a wounded animal. I saw the horror in her eyes, and while I wanted to truly believe it was from learning her own child had the one and only freakin flower disease, I could see the uneasiness in her eyes from truly looking at me and me alone.

“How coul— how could you keep this from me?” Her voice trembles, broken in a form of agony.

“What would I have said, Mom? I fell in love with someone and they took my breath away?” Her demeanor changed into a look of anger, upset at my attempt to defuse the situation with my dry humor. My mistake for not reading the room.

“Don’t! Don’t do that, act like your life is nothing to be of concern or that it doesn’t matter. I’m your mother! I have the right to know when you— when you…” Another sob escapes her, and she quickly swallows it down.

“We need to take the steps now before it’s too late. We need to find a doctor.” I know what these steps entail, and if I’m being honest with myself, I couldn’t imagine a life without the love I hold for her now, a life worth living.

“Mom… I don’t think I could go through with it,” I barely finish my sentence before she cuts me off.

“No, no that’s not an option anymore. I refuse to stand here and watch my child kill themself for someone undeserving of their love.” I can’t bring myself to speak.

“Who is it? Tell me right now.” I loved my mom. I know her emotions are a show of her care, but in the end of the day, her words in a given situation driven by those emotions do nothing but harm. I stay relatively silent until her hard gaze breaks me.

“No one of importance.” More. Lies.

I showed up at her house the next day, leaning against the gross van and waiting in the morning before she heads off to school. She’s surprised to say the least.

“What are you doing here?” she questioned, yet no malice was in her voice, only curiosity.

“You’re never awake before I am.” She laughed at her small poke at me, but this time I couldn’t will myself to fake it for her. The air became thick as she understood how serious it must be then.

“I went to the doctors yesterday,” I began, “finally got that cough checked out.” She only nodded and stayed silent, waiting for the rest to come. I sighed at the anticipation, looking down.

“I— they think it's cancer.” I don’t look up but continue to hear the silence ring.

“My mom is obviously worried, I am too, but I came by to tell you in person because, well, I have to leave for now.” More silence.

“There’s a good doctor up in Chicago my mom was looking up last night, she’s trying to save up for the best she can find. I— I know it’s important to get the treatment and such but it’s gonna be hard and I’m scared right now. You know? I’ve never had to leave town, and bam, suddenly I have this deadly ass di—” she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me out of my rant. I felt the tears against my chest and couldn’t help but pull her in tighter, wanting to protect her from any pain in the world, even the ones I caused.

“Y—you’ll be back soon. You’ll be back before anyone knows it, good as new. And when you’re back, well swing at the park for days, eat the most junk food we can, make up all the time and movie marathons and—” her voice cracked. I held her tighter.

A sudden shake brings me out of my thoughts, a tender call of my name. My eyes shift slightly to notice her concerned gaze, staring at me as the cassette ended possibly moments ago, the static clouding the air.

“Are you okay?” she questions. I give a weak smile.

“Just thoughts, I thought I could ignore it while I’m here with you after all this time, but…” I pathetically shrug and look away.

“No, don’t say that! I’m sorry I didn’t mention it initially, I didn’t know if you were ready or wanted to in general. What you went through, it was a lot. Something people don’t just go through everyday. I couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for you over there, somewhere necessary but new nonetheless, but you made it and you’re here. You were so strong already, and you’re only stronger now. You’re amazing, my amazing lil’ star.” She shines that beautiful smile again, tears flowing steadily down as her eyes crinkle. I smile through my own tears too, laughing before looking away.

“I have to tell you something else, but before that, could we head to the park?” I ask her while clearing my throat, reaching in my bag for some medication and water.

“Of course, always.”

The van’s engine roars, an unsatisfying screech bringing it to life. We drive the familiar streets in a comfortable silence, and I chose to stop the cassette playing to embrace it as it is. I let out another giggle and turn to her as I wiggle my eyebrows, jumping out of the car before it’s fully parked.

“Someone’s eager,” she laughs out, rushing to catch up with me as I try to stand on the seat rather than sit. We play like this for almost an hour, chasing each other like little girls with no care in the world, no love to damage the beauty of the raw moment. Eventually I pause and sit on the ground, inviting her to join me with baby pats in the empty spot to my left. We lay under the stars once more together, and I finally work up the words to speak.

“White Jasmines,” I say. There’s a pause before she turns her head towards me, another smirk to entertain my new antics.

“What about them?”

“Did you know they symbolize sweet love and amiability?” She tilts her head, visibly confused at what I am trying to convey or why. I reach into my front pocket, and I gradually place the flower on her lap. Her eyes start to widen. She whispers my name.

“I’m sorry I lied again when it mattered, when it went against our friendship, our relationship. I was scared, and couldn’t bring myself to burden you.” She sits up and takes my closets hand into hers, clutching it so tight her knuckles become white.

“You could have said something! You should have said something!” She yells out with a bite in her tone, but her eyes go against her intended rage.

“Could you look me in the eyes right now and say you would have reciprocated how I feel without my life being in jeopardy because of it?” She stares so intently at me, having to look down and blink with the amount of tears gathered. I continue on, stating,

“I love you, okay? I love you for being you, for how you see and treat me, for how you already care so much for me. I love you as you and would never try to accept a love beyond what is true.” I grip her hands with my own covering them as well, trying to hold on as tight as possible. Trying to hold on as long as possible.

“How can you say all that when— when you left to—” It’s my turn to cut her off.

“I left before I went through with it, I left before I would lose everything.” She clings onto my entire arm now, tears heavy as she realizes how weak I’ve become in the past few minutes.

“Y—you…”

“I’m so glad I’ve always had you b—by my side,” I start to choke on the blood rising in my throat but remain determined as I try to wipe her own tear away with my right hand, “I’ll always be here with you, okay?” I honestly can’t see anything at this point, but continue to hold on, looking onwards towards the sky as the stars barely gleam with the rise of the sun.

“My star.”

#short story #hanahaki disease #i've never tagged things before #halp #writing #words #flowers #cringey shit

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dumbbitcharchives · 4 years ago

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there are several things about this story that stay the same. first: you were seven or nine when i saw you fall off the play structure and break your wrist. did you know that i saw that? it’s okay. i don’t know if i did, or if i heard about it so many times that it morphed from a story to a memory.

but there you were, seven or nine or both, i guess, if this is my memory anyway, and your wrist bent in a direction wrists aren’t supposed to bend, and you didn’t cry. you just kind of looked at it. you just kind of wondered.

what a weirdo, you know? maybe if i asked you to cry, you would have done it.

okay. so here’s an actual memory: there was this one lone tree in the middle of the asphalt, and there were three rocks around it. two gray and one red like brick. the tree: not climbable and therefore useless. the rocks: very much navigable and therefore excellent. the tree: a patchwork shadow full of holes that let the sunlight through. the rocks: there you were, ten years old (i’m sure), with a book. sun-dappled. or something.

i plucked the book out of your hands, that time and every time, and i know you were mad but you just kind of looked at me. you just kind of wondered. but anyway, i’m not going to lie--i think i took that book because i wanted to and because i could. sometimes you can’t make poetry out of nothing. maybe if i asked you to yell, you would have done it.

do you remember when we went to camp? a whole grade full of eleven-year-olds away from home. very grown up in these animal-themed cabins that we were assigned (we were mammals). okay, here’s the good part. we were in the dining hall cleaning up, maybe, and someone liked someone else but someone else didn’t like someone, and the whole affair felt like the most exciting thing in the world - unbidden, you know, the world had been turning and all of a sudden we realized we’d been turning with it.

what happens next changes: one, i realize that i’m in love with you. here, it’s a choose your own adventure story. do you want to pick one? two: nothing happens because i will it not to happen and memories don’t really exist at all, i don’t think. every time you remember something, aren’t you remembering the last time you remembered it? so it might as well be a story, a bedtime story, a kid’s story, a beat-up copy of go dog, go that my mom donated in 2012.

“in love with you” skips a step or seven, maybe. but it sounded good, didn’t it? so dramatic! what actually happened is you said something that made me think, for the first time, that you liked me (i guess if we really want to tap into that eleven-year-old vernacular, that you liked me-liked me, like that), and while you were talking i looked into your eyes and realized that they were no more brown than the soil is. i could clear away the upper layers--golden in some places, green in others black and teeming in others--and find miles and miles of roots trailing down to some unknowable core. you blinked and i saw the soil bloom, and i think a dandelion seed found its way into my throat and into my stomach and my whole body still blooms yellow in the spring.

i think it was a big misunderstanding. i think you were just a kid saying some dumb stuff. what was it that you said? words are hard. if i’d known what was going to come next i would have made a bouquet out of them.

big thoughts. life could be divided into before and after that camping trip. before: sun-dappled rocks and the club about unicorns i made up for attention. after: questions and questions and questions. because, here’s the thing: if you liked me, just for that one moment and then never again, then maybe i could like - well, naming things is the hard part. but maybe i could like her. once at recess everyone was talking about how she was so small she would blow away, the wind would carry her away, and it was me who volunteered to ground her. my heart hurt with jealousy. my heart heart with ------------.

i remember this as a time of introspection and confusion. i don’t think this was the case. i think when you’re eleven the world revolves around you and my world was small and comfortable, and you were at the center of it, even if i didn’t want to admit it to myself. you were always weird. once you spent recess reading the bible, just for fun, just to see what it was like, just to have that experience. i was deeply fond of you, you know. that’s why i threw orange peels at you at lunch sometimes. you know that. did you want to yell or scream or cry? you know that.

here is where we come to the dreaded fork in the road. i didn’t actually let you choose your own adventure last time, so you can do it this time! to the left: gifted kid middle school. to the right: the local middle school. no, really. choose. you’d choose the same, if you had to choose again, i know (i know!!!!), but i still want to see you do it i think.

we parted.

here is something you should know: i have hated every atom that makes up my body since i was three years old. i know! so long to carry around this obsession with the spaces i filled. here is the thing: that hatred is my whole world sometimes, because i am so deeply concerned with myself, so deeply concerned with the ways i traverse the world, the ways i fit my footsteps into existing footprints on beaten paths. the usual. you’re waiting for the answer to the question. i said, here is something you should know, and if you’re being cooperative, you said why? well, there isn’t one. an answer. it’s just something you should know. here’s something else: the center of a black hole is called the singularity. here’s something else: hippos have pink milk!

middle school... is not tinted with childhood whimsy. there is nothing glowing or hazy or bright about it. to be thirteen is a punishment. to be thirteen and in love with your best friend is almost comical, but only through the kaleidoscope lens of time and distance and space.

in the moment i felt sadness that crumbled slowly into rage. your absence, the space you used to fill, was incidental and then intentional. you stopped wanting to fill it, and the more this became clear the more i needed you to -- needed you to fill it. needed you to want to fill it. needed you to miss me like i missed you.

here is where i start the self-pity. here is where you leave me.

did i want to monopolize you? or was this something less self-centered for once? for once. what did i want from you? because love tasted like poison, and i thought, this can’t be right. i thought, you have so much love in your heart and none of it is for me. i thought, i am sad enough that the whole world is just a series of numbers, of binary code. radio fucking silence.

i am still mad at you. when i closed my eyes back then i saw your broken wrist. i saw you hurt before i knew your name; you were something before you were anything to me. and you could walk away.

is it silly, to linger on things that happened when i was thirteen? i don’t think so. i can’t be mad that you loved again and again and again and it was never me, because it’s never going to be me, thankfully, but i can be mad that you could walk away like that. i can be sad for the kid who listened to you talk about them, to watch them become your best friend and then (too quickly) the object of a love i didn’t think you were capable of.

i wrote shitty space-themed poems about you until i was sixteen. i compared you to the sun over and over and over and over. embarrassing! i compared you to a black hole more times than i can count. quiz: what is at the center of a black hole? are you paying attention this time?

i am trying not to make this about me, but i am still mad at you. i am still mad at you. i am still mad.

because in every language i could think of i was screaming love me -- love me -- love me and you missed it still. that’s not your fault. it’s almost funny to think about the things i would do to get your attention. half the time i would hold you at night, too tight, not really sure when i would get to see you again; watch your mouth while you talked; touch your hair here and your hand there and the delicate skin of your eyelids there. and the other half of the time i would hate you so much that i ceased to exist. a cycle: look at you on the pedestal, knock it down in rage, build it again. ceaselessly.

we both have the same fatal flaw, i think: the art of compartmentalizing. the art of tense silence. i’ll never tell you this, obviously, like i never could have told you back then, and you’ll never tell me if you would have yelled if i’d asked kindly enough.

i didn’t think about you for a long, careless time.

on the night before you went to college we were laying under the two-hundred glow-in-the-dark stars pasted to my ceiling, and the walls were humming, and i was facing the red glow of my alarm clock in the darkness. and you said my name. and i turned to you. and your face in the dark was not a face but a memory or a story or both, told in crude shadows, and mine was right there, too. i’m really going to miss you, you said.

you see, that’s what i needed you to say, but there is, as you know, this thing that lives in my stomach that will not die -- maybe ever -- that made me want you to say something else. something else? yes, something else. take a guess. and it had been so long since i thought of that tree and those rocks and outer space and black holes and sleep away camp and unicorns but my whole body shut down, when you said my name, because i really didn’t know what i would do. if you had breached the distance between us, then, i thought for a second -- what am i going to do. i thought, i know, maybe, what i have to do.

anyway. it didn’t matter. i said yeah, i’m going to miss you, too, and rolled over to hold you close one last time, and

we parted.

one more thing about this story that stays the same, day after day: these days, i am just fine. i think somewhere along the line i must have spit out that choking cluster of weeds, and it must have not been as big or as strong as i thought because i couldn’t tell you where or when or how it happened. these days, you are my friend, my oldest friend, my friend who broke her wrist when she was seven or nine and whose book i stole when she was ten and who broke my heart and didn’t even know it when we were thirteen. now we are adults, i guess. huh. anyway: these days, this is enough.

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academia-imagines · 7 years ago

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Could you write a scenario where Izuku has an older sister who is a pro hero and she is asked to teach a lesson to class 1-A about starting off in the hero business.

wow I really love this ask, but holy hell the costume design took a long time to write. Have some cute brother Izuku moments at the end and I hope you enjoy it!

You were a pro hero, dammit, not a teacher to some snot nosed teenagers. You knew Izuku was going to be in there, and that made you feel a bit better, but the rest you didn’t know. You knew Aizawa, or better known as Eraserhead, but barely. When he asked you about the opportunity, he, and you quote, asked, “Tell them about being a pro hero, they need to hear it from someone who doesn’t hound them every day.” At that you laughed at his face, but then your smile morphed into a horror-filed stare.

What makes him think you could tell these brats about being a pro hero? You had only been in the business for about a year, but you guessed it was because you were gaining attention fairly fast and they would appreciate being taught by someone who sat in their seats recently. You spent the whole night planning a lesson for them; telling them about your quirk, explaining how to get recognized and gaining the public’s attention (because let’s face it, if you wanna make money being a hero, you gotta’ be flashy for the public), and then a fun activity which involved hero trivia. You picked hero trivia because you knew Izuku would be the best at that, and you wanted him to show off his skills to his class.

The morning came and you dressed yourself in your hero costume you designed at their age, and you thought it looked nifty if you said so yourself. You designed it to match your quirk and give you a little fashion as well. The fire resistant fabric adorned your body from the nape of your neck to your ankles, and the arms ended at your wrists. The material on your neck was black and feather like, and it came down into a V shape, nearing the top of your breasts. The rest of the garment’s color was a blaze red that had an ombre effect into a fire orange, with the top being the red and the bottom orange. Gold knee high boots adorned your feet, adding an inch to your height. You were glad you quickly put black fingerless gloves to your costume sheet, because these gloves were bad ass. On you arms, feather like strands of cloth billowed with each step you took, the fabric colored to look like fire. Adding your beak like mask to your face, you were ready to teach these kids about shit you barely understood yourself. You made sure your hair was looking at its best before stepping out the door, locking it with the

Walking down the street in your hero costume was your favorite thing, because people would stop you and either ask for pictures or autographs. Being a pro hero has its perks, and being in the spotlight was one of them. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. The trip to Yuuei was quick, and you held your special permission pass in your hand. Entering the school yard brought you memories of not studying and sleeping in class much to all your teachers dismay.

You waited by the entrance, waiting for Eraser Head to show up and lead you to his classroom. You may have graduated a couple of years ago, but the school was terribly large and you were sure you’d get lost like you did when you went here. When your eyes caught sight of the tired teacher, you walked to meet up with him.

“Hey teach’.” you nodded.

“Call me that again and you’ll be wishing your wings could actually make you fly.” he monotoned, making you smile.

You followed Aizawa up the flight of stairs, your memories from years ago flooding back. This was the staircase you had your first kiss, the break up that broke your heart, and where you and your friends pigged out. Ah, memories of eating food and crying made your heart simmer with nostalgia. The hallway was still the same, but you thought you saw scorch marks on the wall.

The class 1A door was still large and in charge, and the apathetic teacher was still looking at you impatiently. You directed your arm to the door, and with a teasing manner, you said, “You first, Mr. Aizawa.”

He rolled his eyes and opened the door, stepping into the air conditioned room before you. With one foot in front of the other, you put your hero face on and proudly walked into the room.

“Instead of first period today, you’ll be hearing from an actual hero about the job. Ask questions, be engaged, don’t wake me up.” And with that, Aizawa stepped into a sleeping bag and flopped onto the floor.

This was awkward. What were you supposed to do? Introduce yourself, that’s a start! You shook off any nerves you had and beamed.

“Hello, class,” you started. “I’m Phoenix Fire, the pyrokinesis hero! And just like you, I started my path to being a hero here!”

Nobody seemed to be interested in what you were saying; some looking off into space and others looking down at their notes. Well, if they wanted it to be interesting, they could have just asked. You raised a gloved hand and fire shot out. You conjured the fire into a tight ball and threw the ball into the air, making it float. That sure caught their attention.

“That, kids, is what practicing with your quirk can do. When I was sitting in those chairs, all I could do was shoot it out of my mouth like a dragon. Being a hero isn’t just about having the looks or the attitude, or even having a flashy quirk,” You looked the students over, gazing at Izuku for a moment before continuing the inspirational speech you hoped it would be. “It’s about the dedication you put into it. It’s about having the want and need to help others; putting away your fears and anxieties for the benefit of others. You may have a quirk that hoots and shoots out cupcakes, but if you just show it off without actually helping, then you’re as useless as a singular sock in the dyer.”

Your monologue ended, and the students finally began to ask you questions about being a hero, their curiosity peaked. Soon after, the bell chimed and the period had ended. You motioned for Izuku to come over to you as students left the room, eager to get their break from class. Once the classroom was completely empty, save the sleeping Aizawa, you stood beside the short teenager.

“How did I do?” you asked, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“Great, Y/n! It was amazing, and that speech! Did you plan that?”

You chuckled, “Nope, not at all.”

“I’ve missed you,” he said. “So does Mom. It’s weird not having you at home anymore.”

You sighed, “I know, me too. I’ve been meaning to come see you two, I swear I have. I don’t have any fancy excuse for not coming by, either, I just haven’t really thought about it. Don’t think I forgot about you though, because I haven’t, not in a million years.”

Arms wrapped around your shoulders, and you hugged your little brother back. This little dork was the best thing that ever happened to you.

“I could come by today and stay the night. We can stay up and watch movies like we used to.” you mentioned.

“I’d like that.” Izuku agreed.

You both let go of each other. You grinned at him with adornment, “It’s a date then.”

#imagine #mha #bnha #class 1a #boku no hero academia #bnha imagine #bnha scenario #mha imagine #mha scenario #scenario #izuku #izuku midoyira #aizawa shouta #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine

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its-love-u-asshole · 7 years ago

Text

I Search Through the Crowd [Final]

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru/Iwaizumi Hajime

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Summary: It wasn’t uncommon to believe in reincarnation, most people did, but it wasn’t some flippant thing. Only people with the strongest of bonds were reincarnated, or so legend put it. Hajime could be dense sometimes, but he didn’t miss the meaning Tooru was trying to convey. “I’ll find you.”

Note: Haha....I’m finally here with this after so many months fff forgive me. School has been really hectic, and while I finished this a while ago I wanted to make sure it was fully edited and polished before I posted ^^ Big thanks to @emeraldwaves for reading it over as always <3 It was nice to finish my first iwaoi fic, and I hope to write more in the future! I love these two ; ;

Ao3 Version

“There’s something unusual about us. Something deeply spiritual. The way we fall into one another so naturally like our love was carved of the earth. There are star systems bursting at our fingertips when we touch. We are in tune. Our hearts croon the same old song. The universe planned for us. I know it. I know it.”

Beau Taplin

It was as the cycles went by, that things began to change, and remembering each other was no longer a guarantee. Tooru could still remember it, the first time it had happened, when he'd seen Hajime in the road and had run up to him in excitement, only to be pushed away in confusion.

He hadn't known how to react then. It felt even worse than Hajime not being there at all, at least at first. Watching his eyes squint in skepticism and loss at Tooru, who he was supposed to love...it was unbearable. Tooru had needed to regroup for several days, to figure out what to do, and mostly just to let out his anguish in private. Of course, of course things would get harder and harder. He could never be cut a break could he?

Tooru was severely stubborn though, if not downright confrontational, even with things like fate. At the end of things, it really was impossible for him to stay away from Hajime, the connection was too strong, memories or none. If Hajime didn't remember who he was, so be it. Tooru loved him, and they were destined to be something to each other, no matter the life. So, Tooru stuck by his side, made him his friend, and more often than not, they fell in love. They always would. Well, at least, when they were given the chance, the correct circumstances. It hardly panned out well every time, but Tooru pushed past failures to the back of his mind whenever he could, making sure to learn from them, but not let them sway his resolve.

Besides, he wasn't always the only one who had to suffer through the amnesia...

So it went, the cycles passing by again, sometimes one of them remembered, and sometimes neither did. It actually tended to be harder on Hajime than it was on Tooru, the shorter man had told him so during one of the rare cycles where they did recognize each other.

"It's just...too weird," Hajime admitted gruffly, holding Tooru close so he wouldn't disappear. "Having you look at me like I'm a stranger."

"Oh?" Tooru said with a teasing smile as he pulled away to peer at the other's face, but faltered when he saw Hajime's serious expression. There it was, those eyebrows pulled down tight, scowling at nothing in the distance, like there was some sort of threat on the horizon. Not even centuries piled upon decades could erase those guard instincts, Tooru figured, but he knew it was also more than that, when it came to moments like this. The air between them was stiff, a hidden confession laced in it which Tooru debated prying about. What were the cons of it though? They were supposed to be honest with each other, and besides...

Who knew how much time was left, how much time until they saw each other again, both of them aware...

Tooru bit his lip, clutching the other's hand tighter. "Why is that?"

Hajime looked at him incredulously, and paused, as if waiting for Tooru to claim he'd been kidding or something. Ah but little did he know, Tooru was a prince at heart, and he loved the attention, the affection and desire, but especially when it came from Hajime.

Well actually, he probably knew it very well, which was why Tooru received a gentle shove for the question.

"Stupid..." Hajime sighed as Tooru snorted, the insult way too soft to hold any real power behind it, as he trailed his hand slowly down the former prince's face. His hands were smooth, not those of the worker Hajime had been in the past life...or maybe it was a few lives ago. Tooru had lost count, but regardless of that, the touch felt heavenly. "That's why. You're not supposed to look at me like you don't know me, you're supposed to be annoying and demand me to kiss you, or scold me for not being romantic, or laugh too loud...and smile like that...and just, you're supposed to be mine."

Hajime whispered the last of the admittance while Tooru beamed at him, all too convinced that nothing would change this, not a lack of memories or otherwise. Hajime would always be so caring, so protective, so open. Not to mention, he'd be Tooru's. Hajime would never have to worry about it, as long as they never gave up the search, things would work out. That's what he told himself, despite the hardships the universe had delivered them.

There was a reason their time wasn't up yet, after all. Because as many moments as the universe took away, it gave him more than an ordinary couple would get in a singular lifetime, and he couldn't resent it fully.

Qualms eased, even if just for the moment, Tooru fell back into his rightful place, lounging against Hajime's chest, and let sleep take him. "I am. I will be."

It were times like these which made the grief of the previous lives worth it, and fed into Tooru's drive more than anything. Though they didn't know when their time would be up, or what the last cycle would hold, should it ever come, Tooru could only hope it would be better than all the ages before it.

It was hot out, he could tell from how his tank top clung to his back, his skin way too sticky for his liking. It was summer, his favorite time of year, not only because of his birthday, but just the general activities summer brought with it. He loved going to the park, playing with the hose, going to water parks, what was better? The heat was the only thing which was unfair, but it was even worse when he was forced to stand in it for one too many hours. His small hands worked to fan himself as he stood in the middle of the garden, causing him more exhaustion than relief, and he groaned loudly, his seven year old mind too focused on his comfort than to debate his surroundings.

He was probably lost. One minute his mother was scolding him to pay attention to the teacher, and the next he was by himself, searching for a glass of water or an air conditioned room. He hadn't wanted to go on this school trip, but he didn't exactly have a lot of friends, and some of the neighborhood kids had been talking nonstop about going, so his mother had signed his permission slip without so much as asking him if he even wanted to go.

In the end, it had been a lot of fun, the bus ride being loud and full of songs. The museum hadn't been boring at all, with lots of wax figures and fossils, plus an entire exhibit on space. Tooru had practically begged in the middle of the gift shop for his mother to buy him some books, and was more than happy with the result, skipping along with his shopping bag as the group walked along.

The last portion of the trip was a walk through the gardens, and while the flowers were pretty, his small attention span could only take so much, and he'd been getting restless, coupled with the blazing sun outside. So naturally, he'd wandered off, and was now stuck in the middle of the garden, lost among other touring school groups as he took another left turn down an unmarked path. Not like he was the best at reading anyways, especially when it came to the names of flowers.

Tooru fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt, willing himself not to panic and cry because he couldn't find his mom. He was a big kid now, he couldn't cry! He would just wait until she found him...

He'd probably be in tons of trouble, and he hoped she wouldn't take his books away, but the odds of him finding her himself were slim, and so with a pout, he plopped down on an abandoned viewing bench. The area of the garden was less popular, probably because most people were interested in the roses, but Tooru actually found them sort of boring. His mother grew those in the front yard, he saw them everyday, unlike the ones which were widely planted around the bench. These ones though, they were cool...

Or, he assumed they would be, when they bloomed.

Scattered in front of the bench were many young flower buds, small and shrunken up, almost sad looking, and it was no wonder people passed them by without as much as a glance. But Tooru looked at the informational stand next to them, felt his eyes widen in wonder at the pictured flower. In it, it was in full bloom, pure white and something out of fantasy, at least in Tooru's imagination. It looked magical, like a moon flower, and he cooed in awe.

He couldn't read much of the description since there were some big words laced in there, but he read that these flowers only bloomed at night, which made them all the cooler.

Epiphyllum oxypetalum.

Tooru wasn't going to even try pronouncing it. He felt his eyes water slightly, probably from his allergies, but something about the name made his tummy feel strange, and he squinted at the blurry words again. His mom was right, he probably did need glasses. So lame!

Tooru backed away, biting his lip as he plopped back down onto the bench, skin tingly but not wanting to move away from the buds for some reason. He decided he liked them a lot, even if he never got to see them bloom.

Tooru rubbed the small tears from his eyes, opting to swing his legs to deal with his returning surge of energy, when he heard shouts from a few feet away.

"Hey, watch where you're stepping!" One of the boys, his skin tan from the sun and knees a bit too scuffed up, yelled at two older boys, the soil beneath their feet disturbed.

"C'mon, they're dumb flowers, stop being a wuss!" One of the older boys laughed, giving another kick for good measure. Tooru looked around for adults, but found none, and his chocolate brown eyes widened when he took a closer look, rising from the bench. Lying in the dirt, Tooru could see shreds of flower buds, the same kind he'd been looking at. The moon flower. Tooru bristled instantly, wanting to go over there and yell at the two laughing boys, who seemed less than sorry about purposefully stomping over the garden. But he didn't have to, someone beat him to it.

The boy who had yelled before, who seemed to be about Tooru's age, his cheeks still holding onto their baby fat, aimed a fierce scowl at them. "You still can't step on them! They were trying to grow there stupid!"

But the other two just laughed, running to catch up to another tour group, and leaving the boy in the dust grumbling to himself. Tooru's stared at the boy, impressed with his lack of fear when confronting the older kids, and instantly respected him for trying to save the flowers. Hesitantly, Tooru began to walk over, shy steps unheard as he drew nearer to the other's back. The boy leaned down to his knees, unaware of Tooru's presence, and began scooping the dirt back into the respective planter, the only thing he really could do.

For whatever reason, it made Tooru smile. Yet, he was too nervous to outright go up to the boy and introduce himself, so he waited until the other was done with his task, Tooru's hands tight on the handle of his tearing plastic bag.

After scooping the dirt, the boy still didn't move though, his form sighing as he looked up at one of the informational images, seeing the moon flower pictured in full bloom, and Tooru watched as his grey eyes stared in fascination, his mouth forming a small 'o' at the flower.

They're pretty right?! Tooru wanted to say, but the words got stuck in his throat for some unknown reason. He tended to be shy at first, but give him something to go on, and he never shut up, so why...

They boy hadn't even looked at him directly, but Tooru thought his face was kind of weird, his eyes familiar. Maybe they went to the same school, or something.

Tooru shook his head. It didn't really matter, he was being weird staring! He rustled his bag, switching to hold it in his left hand, and closed the distance between himself and the other. "Aren't they cool! I wish we could be here at night so we could see..."

The boy jumped, and Tooru expected as much, but he smiled innocently nonetheless, enjoying the flustered reaction. The boy hid his face instead of fully facing him, which was weird, but Tooru kept going, never one for not bulldozing into things. "You think they're pretty too yeah? I'm glad you saved them--"

"They're not." The response was swift, and would've been intimidating if not for the other's flustered tone, the tips of his ears tinged red, and Tooru didn't think it was because of the sun.

Tooru blinked at him, eyes wide and confused, and tried his best to bite his lower lip to show it. It was hard, given some of his front teeth were missing, but he managed for a few seconds before his lip slipped back into place. "Huh?"

The boy's shoulders tensed, and after a few seconds of silence (which Tooru did not handle well), the seven year old began hopping in place, his books jostling along with him as he was unable to stand still. The other boy could probably tell from the side, even if he wasn't directly looking at Tooru, and after a few more seconds, he groaned, fed up with the fact Tooru wasn't going away. He turned, and their eyes met, and something caused Tooru to swallow air too quickly, like he'd been punched in the stomach.

He saw the grey eyes widen for a split second before Tooru bent over, unable to stop coughs from erupting from his throat. It was almost like when he stood in front of a barbeque pit for too long, the smoke stinging his eyes and making his chest hurt. He choked, sputtering awkwardly as the boy in front of him remained stone still.

It was weird, embarrassing even, and probably rude. Tooru felt his face flush, the light sunburn he was sporting probably becoming more illuminated than before, and jerked up to face the other boy again. "U-uh...sorry!"

The other stayed partly frozen for another second, but soon the mild scowl was back, whatever shock which was there before having disappeared completely. "Whatever weirdo, what do you want?"

Tooru huffed at the name, his small fists clenching as he gave the other a teasing smile. Fine, be that way. "I wanted to say that I also think those flowers are pretty, just like you do!"

He got another blush for that, and Tooru deemed it a success, even as the boy started to deny it. "I-I do not! That's lame!"

"But you were staring--"

"No I wasn't," the boy denied quickly, crossing his arms with a glare, which Tooru thought must be pretty uncomfortable. Maybe his face would get stuck like that if he kept it up. "Who cares anyways..."

"I do!" Tooru said, and the other's eyes flashed up at him, eyeing Tooru's wide smile in suspicion. "It was really cool of you to save them, great even!"

He was rewarded with another blush, plus the other stuttering, trying to get a response out, but Tooru didn't mind. He smiled wider, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he swung his bag back and forth happily.

"W-whatever," the other finally said, slumping forward in defeat and embarrassment, and Tooru finally took note of the key chain attached to one of his belt loops. It was the name of a local school, not Tooru's but a nearby elementary, and Tooru would've jumped had he been alone.

He didn't know the other well, but...Tooru felt like they had to be friends for some reason. The other seemed funny, not to mention brave, and he'd told those guys off, so he couldn't be bad right?

Tooru kicked at the dirt shyly, watching as the dirt from the path mucked up the white of his new shoes, before he actually found courage to talk again. "Hey...do you wanna be my friend?" Tooru mumbled, the words pouring out of him easily, considering how bad he was at initiating friendships usually. It was probably an out of the blue request, but if the boy rejected the offer, it wasn't like Tooru would see him again. He'd probably cry later, but only his mom would see that. "You go to school nearby, and you seem really nice so..."

The other's eyes bore into him, and Tooru couldn’t help but continue to find them weird, his gut twisting and his palms clammy, but he got nervous a lot, and he figured it was that.

Eventually the other boy grunted, shrugging in his own show of nerves, and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

And suddenly Tooru forgot he was tired at all, hopping on the balls of his feet and grinning without hesitation. He wanted to tell everyone, wanted to go into a mile a minute spiel about what he liked and how they could play together on weekends, and ask the other all types of questions, but a shout for him in the distance cut those plans short.

Uh oh.

His mother did not sound happy, that was for sure.

Tooru groaned, pout evident as he started down the path, walking backwards and attempting not to trip over his own feet. "Meet me at the central park tomorrow! Okay?"

The other nodded, smiling back at Tooru for the first time, and he felt like his heart was going to burst from how hard it was beating.

Oh wait!

"My name's Oikawa Tooru!" He heard his mother call for him again in the distance, and he hurried, but managed to catch the other's loud reply, and made sure he'd never forget it.

"Iwaizumi Hajime!"

Something in his stomach twisted again pleasantly, and he thought the name fit the face perfectly. Iwa-chan.

By Tooru's next birthday, they were inseparable, and he wouldn't hesitate to call Hajime his best friend if he was asked. In fact, he said it often without being asked, usually resulting in Hajime elbowing him--hard--but whatever. It was true. They slept at each other's houses every weekend, watching movies or going to the local pool to swim, making the most of wherever they were. Hajime taught him how to climb trees, and Tooru taught him how to ride his bike without falling into the dirt every time. Sometimes they camped out in the backyard, and Hajime was getting a lot better at suffering through Tooru's long talks about constellations and aliens. They watched documentaries sometimes too, and Hajime complained when Tooru couldn't sleep from fear if they watched a more mature one. But hey, he always stayed with Tooru anyways, so he figured it was fine to be scared around the other.

You have to protect me Iwa-chan!

If aliens really do come, I'm letting them take you.

Sometimes when they went and played, they'd get hurt, and while Hajime tended to take it in stride, there were times Tooru couldn't stop a tear or two from spilling. Hajime would just walk over though, wiping them away from Tooru's cheeks like they were nothing, and waiting until he was ready to play again…

Tooru’s lip trembled as he saw Hajime run over to him, concern etched on his face. Tooru was trying so hard not to let the tears spill, but he knew he couldn’t resist, he’d never been able to. Eventually he tasted the salt and felt the sting in his eyes, little hiccups forcing themselves out of his mouth as Hajime knelt down to his side.

Hajime looked at the light scrape on Tooru’s leg, the skin burning slightly from sliding on the concrete. He’d been trying to catch up to Hajime, not realizing how uncoordinated he was in his new shoes. Wordlessly, Hajime pulled out a bandage, the ones his mom made him carry because Hajime always got hurt, and gently placed one over the small cut. Tooru sniffled all the while, trying to not seem too lame. It was such a small injury, Hajime probably thought something was seriously wrong with him for crying.

But Hajime’s eyes lifted to meet Tooru’s, pretty and squinting in the sunlight, and then reached to wipe away the few stray tears on Tooru’s cheek. Hajime’s hand was dirty from playing in the dirt earlier, no doubt leaving a smudge on Tooru’s pale skin, but the brunet didn’t much care right then.

Tooru allowed himself to be pulled back on his feet and be lead towards the playground up ahead, his sniffles dying down until they were nonexistent. He looked forward at Hajime’s back, noting the other was walking slower than usual, maybe so Tooru didn’t have to keep up with him as much like before, and it made Tooru’s heart beat weirdly.

The brunet fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt, unsure of how to proceed. He felt like something had to be said, but he didn’t understand what. But if anything, he knew where to start, if only to give himself some peace of mind.

“Iwa-chan…I’m sorry for crying,” Tooru whispered, the silence too much for him to bear without addressing his worries. He got like this sometimes still, wondering if Hajime wouldn’t want to be friends with him anymore because of his habits or sensitivity, or maybe he talked too much, or maybe—

“Why? You can’t help it,” Hajime replied, eyes going wide in surprise as he paused in his walk towards the playground. He shrugged then, not paying much attention to Tooru’s own gasp, and grabbed the brunet’s hand softly, leading him towards the monkey bars.

It was as simple as that, and while Hajime gave him grief about all sorts of other things, he never made Tooru feel like his emotions were a bother. He learned it was okay to cry in front of Hajime too then, the other never made fun of him, and with every day, Tooru felt happier and happier to have met him.

Iwa-chan! Am I your best friend?

Don't ask stupid questions....duh.

Yeah, he was definitely glad he'd gotten lost at the museum that one time.

The days went by too fast in Tooru's opinion though. He was more than okay in whining whenever Hajime had to go home, because they had school the next day, and Tooru wouldn't be able to see him until the following weekend. Going to different schools stunk, but if he got his homework done early, his mom would let them call, and it sort of made things okay. Breaks were especially fun, because then they could stay together every night, and as long as they were quiet, they could stay up as late as they wanted.

It almost wasn't a treat when Tooru's parents told him Hajime could stay the night after his birthday party (in fact, he'd expected as much), but Tooru was as excited as any other sleepover, simply because being with Hajime was fun no matter what. Plus, Hajime's present had secretly been his favorite, being a planet projector for his room, which no doubt must've cost Hajime a month's worth of chores. When all his guests had left, Tooru practically ripped it open, eager to get it working, but the sun hadn't gone down yet, and for once he wished the night would come so he could power the device up.

Oh well, Hajime could entertain him until then.

"Iwa-chan, it's gonna be so cool! Now we can pretend we're camping even when it gets cold!" Tooru rushed around in excitement, meticulously organizing his presents into their assigned nooks before getting to work on deconstructing his bed and sheets. It was tradition to make a fort after all. He expected Hajime to begin helping him without prompting, since the other was aware of how things needed to be set up in order for the structure not to crumble. They'd had multiple failures in the past, but they had it down now, except for when they played a bit too roughly.

But Hajime just stood there this time, fidgeting in the entryway of Tooru's room like it wasn't his hundredth time being there, like he was unsure of what to do. Tooru paused in his removal of the bedspread, his complete focus turning to his friend, who was giving off so much anxiety Tooru thought he'd be sick. It wasn't normal for them to be uncomfortable around each other, and Tooru was worried instantly.

"Iwa-chan," Tooru said, rushing up to his friend in a split second and grabbing his hand. "Are you sick? Maybe you ate too much cake! Oh no...do you want me to ask my mom for some--"

"What? No, shut up," Hajime said, slight color rising to his cheeks, and before Tooru could ask anything else, the other strolled over to his overnight bag, rifling through it with purpose. Tooru squeaked as Hajime threw a sweatshirt back, nearly hitting him, but was too curious to really whine about it. It wasn't like Hajime to keep stuff from him, so it must be something super secret...

Tooru almost made the move to tiptoe over and peek over Hajime's shoulder, but before his legs could move, Hajime whipped around, holding something behind his back. Tooru only caught a glance, but with his worsening eyesight, it was nothing more than a grey blob, and he pouted with the best puppy eyes he could muster. It was unfair for Hajime to take advantage of him like that, Tooru was blind, or...nearly.

Point was, he wanted to see.

He drew out the whine for way longer than necessary, or he tried. He didn't get super far. "Haji-"

Hajime anticipated him, cutting him off with a glare to accompany his words. "Shut it! I got you another present loser, or it kinda is...but it's lame and I didn't put a lot of effort into it so no saying it sucks," he muttered, a little too fast, but despite the terrible presentation, Tooru felt his stomach flip wildly. It happened a lot, sometimes when he just thought of Hajime as his best friend, but knowing the other had cared enough to get him an extra gift had him vibrating in joy, he thought he might explode.

He jumped with a gasp, holding out his hands. "You did?! Give it, give it!" The sugar in his cake was probably working its magic, seeing as how the floor creaked under his tiny fit of energy.

"Hey quit it! Can you--ugh, fine!" Hajime snapped, the color rising further and spreading to his ears, and Tooru found it ridiculously cute. Hajime acted so tough and cool, but he was a big dork when it was the two of them, and Tooru laughed as he continued to pressure the other for his gift.

Hajime eventually tossed it into Tooru's face, retreating to bury his glaring face into the bed, and Tooru finally got a good look at whatever it was. When he realized what it was, with its painted on jewels and sloppy paint job, he felt his own cheeks heating up, but he didn't have time to think about why, because he was close to tackling his friend from happiness.

It was a crown. A birthday crown, one with spirals and glitter to make it shine like real silver, and while it was pretty messy, Tooru knew it took someone like Hajime, who never had a thing for crafts, forever to make. It was paper mache too, holding together like a rock in Tooru's hand, and he placed it on his head with pure delight. He saw how Hajime's eyes followed his movement, even with half his face hidden in the pillow, trained on Tooru's reaction.

The crown fit perfectly, sitting on his messy brown hair like it was meant to be, As soon as he looked in the mirror hanging by his door though, something in his stomach churned, and his brain itched, grasping for a thread he had no awareness of. It was like there was a picture in his head, showing him a real crown with bright rubies and engravings, gleaming silver. Blinking rapidly, Tooru shook his head, perplexed. It was weird, almost like a memory, but it was gone in seconds, replaced with his resolve to wear the darn thing all day. Hajime gave it to him after all, he was going to keep it for as long as possible.

Placing his hands on his hips, Tooru turned to the other boy, smile smug. "So, you think I'm a prince Iwa-chan? I knew you thought I was awesome."

Hajime threw a pillow at him, and it wasn't gentle. "Ow!"

"Be quiet, I only made it for you because of your dumb birthday," Hajime said, adding the last bit in a mumble. "Besides, you can't be a prince without marrying a princess."

Tooru made an obnoxious buzzer noise, pointing a still frosting stained finger in Hajime's face. "Wrong! To be a king I have to get married, I can be a prince if I wanna."

"You still eventually need a girl, which you'll never get," Hajime quipped, grinning at Tooru's glare.

Tooru grumbled something about it being his birthday and to be nice, but otherwise, he wasn't super eager to give a response to the insult, though he was a cute boy and would surely be a cute adult, so Hajime was dead wrong. Everyone would love him! But the idea of having a girlfriend made him grimace, like a bad smell, probably because he was too young, but there was also that nagging feeling in his head again...

God, he just wanted to turn on his projector already.

"Hm," Tooru said, pondering the point just a bit more, before shrugging and plopping next to Hajime on the bed. "Then being royal isn't worth it, if I had the choice. I just wanna spend time with Iwa-chan and play outside," he said, peeking at Hajime as the sun began to set over them. The glow was a little too warm, but it made Hajime's eyes sparkle, so Tooru couldn't bother moving. "Don't you think that's better?"

Hajime was quiet, mouth still hidden under the comforter, but his eyes were full of laughter, and other things Tooru couldn't understand, but they made him feel warmer than the sun's rays, and he decided he wanted Hajime to always look at him like that.

"Yeah, definitely."

Tooru grinned at his best friend, eventually hopping off the bed to resume their fort making, and Hajime gave him a hand this time, without question.

"I'm keeping the crown though!"

True to his annoying word, Tooru did end up keeping the crown, and it still sat worn and ugly on his shelf, atop his shining Best Setter Award. They were sixteen now, yet Hajime still saw Tooru as the lame ass he was. But, he was more than pleased as things were, sitting on his best friend's bed while the other poorly cut out clippings from various volleyball magazines.

Most boys their age probably looked at porn. Ha.

Once Tooru had an obsession, there wasn't much room for anything else. And this time, he'd dragged Hajime right along with him. When elementary school had ended, they vowed to go to the same middle school, and Tooru had suggested they try a truck load of clubs. Of course, it was easy to tell when Tooru got bored of them though, despite his proficiency in most, he left a lot of them behind until he'd fallen in love with volleyball. And well, the rest went by in a blur to Hajime, who hadn't cared about what club he was in, as long as he and Tooru could do it together. Volleyball had ended up being the most fun he'd ever had though, and like in everything else, Tooru was the best partner he could ask for. Even with the small bumps along the way...

Hajime glanced up from his own magazine as Tooru's eyes scanned over a strategy article, like he was soaking up every bit of knowledge so nothing was left, dead set on using it. If a point was particularly useful, he'd cut the page out, filing it away in his godforsaken abyss of a desk drawer. Hajime' lips quirked up in a smile, watching as Tooru's face scrunched up in displeasure, and he shifted his legs out from under him, probably since they'd fallen asleep. His legs were long, already toned, and they'd only get more so. He'd passed Hajime up in height already, but he was hoping he would hit another growth spurt to rival his friend's. His skin was smooth, porcelain and probably soft to the touch, and Hajime's fingers itched strangely. Yeah, Tooru looked healthy and strong, but Hajime remembered his tendency to overwork, the exhaustion he'd carry from late nights and long practices. Hajime trusted him now, to watch himself, but he worried all the same, always ready to offer his silent support. He wondered how the realm of high school volleyball would feed into his friend's habits, and the sudden flood of concerns had him groaning loudly.

God, he wasn't Tooru's mom, the other could take care of himself, and if he needed help, Hajime would be there then!

Tooru had promised him anyways, promised not to push. In return, Hajime had promised not to get down on himself either, once he was up against the big aces. Pft. Tooru was the only one who could probably say that to him without getting a long speech of denial. Hajime was calm in times of pressure, and he knew he was a good player. But...

Well, sometimes new experiences were scary, regardless of who it was. But he had grown to love the sport too much to back down. After a fun middle school volleyball career, Hajime found he wasn't satisfied with quitting just yet, his thirst for victory and the rush of spiking the ball too strong for him to resist.

"What's on your mind?" Tooru's voice cut through their comfortable silence, his crappy scissors getting stuck on the article he was cutting. His brown eyes flicked to him, relaxed and playful. "Nervous about tomorrow?"

Ah yeah, tomorrow, the first day of high school.

"Shut up, it's just school," he grunted, turning over on the small bed. He had to throw a few magazines down to make room, much to Tooru's distaste, but he could get over it.

"Aw it's okay Iwa-chan," Tooru cooed, tossing the last of his stack to the floor. "I'm sure the new team will like you very much despite your bullying tendencies."

"Die."

"And they have to like you anyways, you'll be associated with me," Tooru went on, unperturbed but having enough sense to slowly ease away from the bed as Hajime grabbed a pillow. "And since I'm so amazing, you won't have to worry at all."

He chucked the pillow hard at Tooru's grinning face, cursing when the bastard managed to dodge it swiftly, and the war was on.

They were getting too old for this, not to mention too big, especially in such a confined space, and what should've been a chase ended up being a wrestling match, with Hajime being the sure winner (as he was the undefeated champion). Tooru was strong, but a lot leaner and easier for Hajime to toss around, not to mention Tooru never put too much effort into their fights, choosing to complain instead, like that would stop Hajime from destroying him. Ha.

"You fucking arrogant...." He had Tooru in a near choke hold when the other began wheezing his surrender, and they both relaxed on the floor, breathless laughter barely slipping into the air around them. Tooru was giggling uncontrollably, and something about it made Hajime perk up. It wasn't like it was an unfamiliar sound, having grown up with the other threw many embarrassing and stupid moments, but well, giggling was not something the older Oikawa Tooru did as much, and Hajime was happy to force it out of him.

Tooru turned on his side, the hard wood of the floor dark against his fair skin, and grinned in the delight despite his loss. Weirdo. Somehow Hajime felt lighter though, thoughts of school and new teams having drifted from his mind. It was lame in fact, since distracting him had probably been Tooru's intention in the first place, and he'd fallen for it. But well, that was what friends were for he guessed.

The laughter slowly died, their chests heaving as they remained on the floor, and it was only then Hajime actually looked out the windows, and noticed evening was upon them. The day was almost over. Somehow it was always a letdown, knowing he could only stay with Tooru on weekends once the school term started. Even at the age of sixteen, it sucked.

"Hey Iwa-chan," Tooru whispered, voice small and not unlike how it used to sound as a child, right before he was about to cry. The playful air dissipated, but Hajime didn't worry about it so much, part him already knowing what Tooru was likely to bring up. The other boy had lent Hajime his hand, and now it was time for Hajime to do the same. Picking each other up, that's how things went.

"Yeah," he replied, the bubble between them growing smaller as Tooru scooted closer, unwilling to share the confession with anyone but Hajime. The thought tweaked at a memory, or maybe a dream, he wasn't sure. Them lying down, close, on the beach...

But no, they'd never camped at the beach, so...well, Hajime never was good at wrangling in his imagination when it came to the other. As kids they created all kinds of scenes, roles...

Kingdoms, villages, anything was fair game. No matter how humiliating some play dates were, he couldn't ever regret the childhood he'd shared with the brunet.

They were best friends, and he'd have to fulfill that duty now, as best he could.

"What if I don't make it on the team? What if there's a setter that's twice as good as me. A spot isn't a guarantee, and then you'll be--"

"So you'll work harder to get a spot," Hajime cut off, sharp and without room for argument. "You're a great setter now, the best, so you're just going to get better. Stop being a dumbass and just play the best you can."

Hajime turned away, feeling the red begin to bloom on the tops of his cheeks. Goddamnit, it's just Tooru. Well, sappy shit was sappy shit. But he knew Tooru needed it. Glaring at the ceiling, he added on for good measure, determined to shut the other up. "No one's gonna surpass you or whatever unless you let them, and I know you won't." I trust you.

God, I should probably say it. Fuck it.

"I trust you," he mumbled, tucking his hands behind his head, which ended up being an awful idea given the hardwood, but there was no going back. He had to look relaxed damn it.

It was quiet again, aside from the light chatter from downstairs, where Tooru's mom was probably preparing dinner, and his decreasing time at the Oikawa household seemed closer and closer. Despite that, the spell stayed over them, like a uncharacteristic tension had formed, and Hajime wasn't used to it. Maybe with strangers, or distant family members, but not Tooru. Maybe he'd been too harsh, or not harsh enough.

Hesitantly, he turned his head, and the heat on his face all but intensified, because the last thing he'd been expecting was an expression like that. Tooru's pupils were a bit bigger than normal, his eyes wide with fondness and admiration, and things Hajime simply wasn't used to being directed at him so openly. Not since they were ten at least. Tooru's cheeks were dusted with color, lips parted for a second before he bit down on the bottom lip, pulling the flesh lightly. Hajime's stomach flipped oddly, never having before seen the combination of features on Tooru, but being shockingly pleased with it. Whatever it was.

What the fuck?

Before he could really question it further though, Tooru sprang up to his knees, a spark of determination in his eyes as he grabbed another stack of magazines from the floor. Oh boy..."Yeah! There's no way we won't play together, and we'll be the best partners ever, just like before!"

Hajime couldn't help but smile, willing his surprise from earlier away, to be analyzed much later in the future. "But better."

"Twenty times better!" Tooru corrected smugly, and tossed a few clippings at him. "And don't fret Iwa-chan, the wise Oikawa-san will be there to help in your times of need as well."

At that, Hajime actually laughed, not even bothering to take a swing at Tooru's face. The look of offense he got instead was pretty worth it.

"Quit--"

"As if I need your help," Hajime said, though they both knew it was a lie. "I'll be the one who'll have to find you if you get lost in that damn head of yours."

"Well...I'll find you first! Ha!" Tooru stuck out his tongue, and Hajime nearly rolled his eyes, dead set on a comeback because seriously, that didn't even make sense, when the words hit him, and he jolted.

"I'll find you."

...what?

The words, though he doubted he'd ever said them to Tooru, felt weighted with grief and emotions, ones he wasn't acquainted with. His throat felt sort of dry, his eyes teary, and he wanted to inch closer to Tooru, like it was urgent. Tooru seemed to be at a loss too, under the same spell, hands frozen mid flip of a page, his lips trembling, and Hajime nearly reached out to him, his instincts telling him to soothe.

Hajime fumbled for words, but came up short, the phrase raging a war in his mind. "That doesn't even...um..."

It was like he knew too, what the words meant, like a question on a test he'd studied for hours for, but was now blanking on. He knew the answer, he knew, but he couldn't think of it for the life of him.

"I'll find you."

"Um," Tooru whispered, shaking his head from the daze, and from the lost look on his face, Hajime knew he'd come up short too. But in regards to what? What even was that?

"Uh, yeah," he murmured unintelligibly, the space between them suddenly too large, too thick with...whatever this feeling was.

He wondered if he should ask Tooru about it, since surely they'd both had a moment. Maybe they were just tired, maybe it was the before school jitters, he wasn't sure. But sharing it with his friend might've been a good idea either way. So why was he hesitating so much?

They weren't able to navigate the storm of confusion however, because Tooru's mom called them down for dinner a few seconds later, leaving the words in the air behind them, forgotten.

The first year of high school flew by to Hajime, had rushed past him like the wind, and the second year was looking to be much the same.

They did end up being a great team though, not just him and Tooru, but Aoba Josai as a whole. They worked well together, cracked jokes, and most importantly, they'd built their trust. It was almost sad, seeing the third years play and knowing it would be their last year. Hajime would be taking their place along with Tooru, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki, but at least they all got to play together a bit longer. Besides, Tooru was working his way up the ranks, comfortable in his ways, always striving to improve. There was really no doubt Tooru would be the next captain. He had the passion and strategy, and it was a no brainer.

As much as Tooru's fan club and general popularity could annoy Hajime at times, mostly due to the noise and practice interruptions, he could see why Tooru had the admirers he did. Although, Hajime doubted the rest of them knew about the childish antics and geekiness hidden behind the stupidly pretty face.

But well, that was fine. Hajime would have to endure those himself.

He jumped, grinning as he slammed a ball down on the other side of the court, past some of the third year blockers, his spike more and more powerful by the day. He pumped his fist in the air, automatically turning to Tooru on his left, whose hands were barely coming down from his set. The brunet's body turned towards his immediately, without prompting, grin beaming a thousand watts.

"Nice Iwa-chan!"

After so many practices and games together, Hajime had gotten rather greedy with Tooru's praise, eating it up when it presented itself, and loving how the other's eyes would light up a fraction more from Hajime's. Hajime knew he stared at Tooru longer than was necessary, knew he had to train himself to look away during stretches and class, otherwise people would think something was wrong.

Do you have to talk to Oikawa?

Are you mad at him or something?

Are you two okay?

Ugh.

Of course, he'd gotten more and more wary of it, falling into a natural habit of sneaking his glances instead. It was abnormal for him to stare, to fixate and think about Tooru when he wasn't even there, and maybe it was weird Tooru had yet to break their eye contact as well, but...

As he'd grown and puberty had begun to take its toll, he started to realize why he probably did a lot of the stuff he did, why sleepovers were more difficult now, especially when Tooru insisted on sharing a bed sometimes, or snuggled close when they were watching movies. What he was supposed to do about this problem, he had no idea.

For now, looking into Tooru's eyes, watching his chest heave from the exercise...it was enough.

"Dang Matsukawa, we should get out of here before things go too far huh?" Hanamaki snickered from behind them, and Tooru flinched, an annoyed expression already turning on the perpetrator.

"I know, it got a few degrees hotter in here."

Ah, perpetrators.

Matsukawa was fanning himself, Hanamaki rolling on the floor beside him, and it was only due to the coach's distant supervision that Hajime didn't pummel them.

"Shut up Makki!" Tooru sneered. "You're just jealous you're not as close as me and Iwa-chan."

The admission caused the two to erupt in another poorly concealed fit, with Matsukawa keeping more of his composure as usual. "Uh, I'm not sure we'd want to be."

Hajime threw the ball in his face, but the middle blocker caught it easily with his large hands, further egging on Hajime's rage.

Hajime growled as Tooru stayed strangely quiet beside him, not ready to deal with the two's shamelessness when his actual feelings weren't sorted out at all. "Why don't you guys just--"

"Alright enough!" The coach called them, signaling the end of practice, and the irritation inside him was stomped on, forced out of him. The duo smirked at him smugly, but said nothing else, and Hajime hoped it was the end of it. They went off to stretch, only mild grumblings being exchanged between them as they got lost in routine.

Tooru blinked a few times, shaking his head before the usual, confident expression was back, seemingly unfazed. Hajime wondered if they'd talk about this later, but then again, they probably wouldn't. It was harmless teasing to the three of them, no big deal. It's not like they actually believed he and Tooru were together, right?

Of course not.

Okay, so maybe he did have a tiny crush on Tooru. Big deal, it was most likely from convenience. Tooru had been there all his life, probably always would be, so Hajime felt more than a little attached. When he got into a real relationship and met someone else, he'd forget all about it. It was attraction, it was the trust between them, all those things were simply clouding his mind. Yet as he had to practically tear his eyes away from Tooru as he bent forward, his stomach flipped, like it seemed to always do in Tooru's presence, now and as kids, and he started to seriously doubt his own denial.

They were dismissed, Tooru waiting up for him happily, and Hajime forced the train of thought away for now, content with completing a good day of training. Still, he knew he'd have to sort out his feelings eventually, it was unlike him to leave things hanging around.

When it came to Tooru and him, things would work out. Or at least, he hoped so...

He jogged into the locker room, dead set on focusing his efforts on dissuading his best friend from an after school ice cream run.

Besides, Hajime could worry about his crush later, assuming it got any worse in the first place.

Oh, it got worse.

Not only was he sure of his crush, a mere few months later, he was fairly sure he was in love. It was quick to say sure, but when you've known someone all your life...it's easier to tell. In fact, he was kind of floored he hadn't figured it out sooner. Fuck.

Despite his own awareness, he stared at Tooru's lithe form, spread out on the picnic blanket, looking way too good in his stupid camo print and boots. Fucking...

"Iwa-chan, I can hear you glaring, shut up," Tooru whispered from where he was crouched down on the blanket, binoculars in hand.

And yeah, there was the current problem too.

"Fuckin' Makki...saying we're too close, I can't believe..." Tooru mumbled to himself, reaching to his side to snack on the chips Hajime had dutifully packed, giving up his chance at a normal Saturday night a little too easily. He'd known Tooru for too long, he'd come to realize, he was too used to this shit. "Here he is, on a date...ha!"

Sometimes, he wondered if Tooru was actually seventeen, or if he'd somehow reverted to age twelve without notifying him. Hajime sighed, using Tooru's calves as a pillow as he laid down on the blanket, the smell of damp grass and the cool breeze a little too chilly for his taste. At least he'd brought a coat and extra blankets. Hajime turned his head, doing his best to ignore the tantalizing slope of Tooru's ass in favor of the camera in the brunet's hand, ready to snap 'evidence.'

Sometime during the week, both of them had noticed Matsukawa and Hanamaki acting strange, exchanging notes, talking in whispers, the whole nine yards. Normally, Hajime would leave them be, and in fact he did. As long as it didn't affect the team and the game, what should it matter?

Tooru did not have this approach.

He'd snooped and snooped, stuck his nose where it didn't belong, dug through the trash to find the incriminating notes, and had gone as far as to hide in a locker while the two conversed after practice. After such a great deal of admirable (humiliating) effort, Tooru had discovered the two were going on a date to a drive-in movie that weekend. Together. With each other.

Naturally, the brunet had blown up, devising a plan to catch them in the act of kissing or who knows, whatever qualified as evidence of dating to Tooru. All this so the duo couldn't tease them anymore about acting too close. Hajime admitted, it would be nice, not because they were wrong per se (at least, not on his end), but because he was getting tired of being so blatantly called out in the middle of practice for things he couldn't help.

Damn.

It was more a stab to his pride than anything, knowing the two other third years had gotten together, beating Hajime in the stupid game known as love. Pft.

He heard the camera go off, and he wondered how good the zoom on the thing even was. Would Tooru actually catch anything? They were seated atop the hill of the drive-in, basically the nosebleed seats, where no one else sat, but the screen was big enough to still clearly watch the movie if he wanted. In fact, he hadn't been paying attention at all, he had no clue what was playing. Point was, they were far up, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki were seated somewhere off to the side in the center of the field, visible without any obstructions, but far enough to where he had to squint to make out their movements.

Well, that's what the binoculars are for I guess.

He smiled against his will. For someone so aggravating, Tooru could be unfairly cute, treating the stakeout with grave seriousness. Ah man, when had he become such a loser?

"Iwa-chan, you won't believe what I'm seeing," Tooru said, leg twitching under Hajime's head.

"Oh? I bet," he deadpanned, knowing Tooru was going to ignore him completely anyways in favor of his observations. That's how it usually went, Tooru would recite his exam study guide or his new volleyball strategy, oblivious to whether Hajime was actually listening. He always quizzed him on it when he was done though, the jerk.

"Seriously, they make fun of us all the time, yet they're here..."

And we're not actually dating. Yeah I know.

Somehow, it only made him sulk more. Not even the joy of getting to tell the two to shut up during practice could erase his disappointment. God, he was being such a baby.

"Oh shit, I think Mattsun just put his arm around Makki! He's whispering something, I can tell..." The observations were occasionally interrupted by the crunch of a potato chip, or the sound of a shutter, but Hajime was mostly drowning it all out either way, trying his best not to visualize himself on a date with his best friend. "They're..."

Silence. Tooru's body tensed underneath him, and the noises of eating and fumbling died in an instant, the atmosphere filled with nothing but the movie, the gentle soundtrack of the scene accompanying the awkward mood.

Hajime rose up slowly, confused, since a break in Tooru's excited relay wasn't exactly as normal as he wished. "Oikawa? What happened?"

Maybe the couple had left, or maybe Tooru had become preoccupied with his phone, which wouldn't be a surprise. But no, the brunet was frozen, binoculars in his hand, but no longer using them. His eyes were fixated on the movie screen, the glow reflecting in his dark eyes as he squinted. The enthusiasm from before was gone, replaced with Tooru's more calculated look, like he was getting too lost in his own head and Hajime would have to pull him out sooner or later. Tooru would do it for him too, always aware when Hajime zoned out when getting distracted by a television show or worry. But to have Tooru randomly do this during his spontaneous stakeout wasn't exactly expected, and not to mention how downright pouty he looked.

"Nothing," Tooru mumbled, setting the binoculars down beside him and rolling over onto his back. "They kissed, I guess. Doesn't matter, I have my proof." He did his best to sound smug, but Tooru could hardly keep his grin in place, crossing his arms over his chest while Hajime looked on, unconvinced. Hajime knew all he had to do was wait, since it was rare for Tooru to keep his annoyance bottled up when it was the two of them alone, but well, it was nearing midnight, and Hajime was cold and impatient and very very romantically frustrated.

"Spit it out would you? Who cares if they kissed?" Hajime scoffed, pushing down the sudden fear that perhaps Tooru was disgusted by something like that. But it was gone as soon as it arrived, replaced with a bit of guilt at having entertained the thought at all. He knew his best friend, knew he wasn't that ignorant. Plus...there were bigger pieces of proof against it. Hajime had caught him staring at guys more than once, but ever since the summer before high school, it was more frequently directed at him. Which really, he didn't want to toot his own horn, so he'd denied it. He thought maybe it was his imagination getting his hopes up, but...

Then again, he knew his best friend, all his quirks and mannerisms...

Maybe it was wishful thinking but...with every lingering touch he gave Tooru, the other usually returned it. Yet Hajime had made no moves to explore the relationship beyond the boundaries of their friendship, mostly because he was fearful of rushing into it or reading the signals wrong. But now he was here, seeing a real date between his friends that Hajime himself was a bit envious of, it made the urge to confess all the stronger. Plus, it really just pissed him off. "Can we go home?"

"So impatient Iwa-chan, no fun at all," Tooru laughed, sighing dramatically. "But if you must know, it's atrociously unfair that Makki gets his first kiss before me." Despite the frivolous tone, Hajime could tell when Tooru was seriously bothered by something, but now that Hajime knew what it was, it was pretty unexpected. "Appalling really..."

Hajime raised an eyebrow, though Tooru wasn't looking, letting the tender change in music from the film fill the weirdly brought upon silence. Tooru...Tooru couldn't seriously be jealous could he? Of Makki? Tooru was infinitely more popular, got a good two confessions a week on average, if not more, despite never acting on any of them. Why was he complaining about his friends going on one measly date? Although, Hajime was fairly sure the other hadn't had his first kiss, which never ceased to baffle and please him, considering Tooru's socialite ways. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Sure.

"So...you're jealous?" He tried again, taking a gamble. Envy was a typically ugly emotion Tooru didn't like to associate with, but of course, no one was impervious to it, even Hajime felt jealous from time to time of other volleyball players or classmates. Why Tooru had to be so secretive about the fault, he didn't get, if it was true in the first place. At least then they'd be on equal footing.

Fucking drama queen.

"Ughhh you don't have to say it."

Ah, so I am right. The fuck?

"Why would you be jealous, you get confessions all the time," Hajime said, doing his best to keep his disappointment out of his voice. "If you want a first kiss so bad just--"

"No! Don't you know anything?" Tooru shot up, hands flailing like Hajime had told him aliens weren't real, and Tooru was about to whoop his ass with barely there evidence and three days worth of audio recordings. He knew. It had happened before. "It has to be special! I can't just go kiss anybody. Do you think Mattsun and Makki just up and decided to kiss--well okay, they might've but--anyways! They obviously were into each other, they're close friends, so it was a no brainer to act on it!"

Hajime's breath caught enough for him to cough, but Tooru was too swept up in his tirade to notice. A no brainer huh...yeah right. If it really was, one of them should've said something to each other months ago. But that was just him assuming again wasn't it?

Still Hajime's voice was a traitor apparently, always fishing for some inkling of certainty. At least if he asked, he'd know if the possibility of being with Tooru was a total fantasy. "So you don't have someone special or whatever?"

He waited for the eye roll, for the loud exclamation about how poor of an observer he was because no, of course Tooru wasn't dating anyone...but it never happened. Tooru froze up, his hands gesturing in midair, and his face taking on an odd shade of red, regardless of the dark.

Hajime's stomach flipped, and he regretted the question immediately. There were a lot things he shouldn't know for the sake of his own sanity, and yeah one was Tooru not returning his unconfessed feelings, or Tooru having a secret crush even Hajime didn't know about on someone from school. But there was another that was equally scary, thrilling...the one which was the most likely and that he continuously avoided because...because why?

Tooru's eyes locked on his, breathing shaky as he exhaled, and the cogs in Hajime's head started turning a billion times faster, yelling at him about what an idiot he was.

God, the soundtrack of the movie seemed absolutely blaring now.

Tooru maintained his eye contact, but his hands were notably shaking as he spoke. "Is it not obvious?"

Shit.

Well, when he put it that way...

Tooru's staring during practices, his need to text Hajime all the time, his worry whenever Hajime got sick, right down to his continuous refusal of confessions...

Those were all the blatantly obvious examples, but there were infinite others which Hajime couldn't describe, which boiled down to the weird connection and trust they'd built since they were kids. Always there for each other, looking out for one another, being content in the quiet bubble they put up when they were alone. Every moment and memory were things Hajime couldn't do without, and couldn't forget.

Yeah, he'd been a real idiot. When it came to them, patience wasn't needed anymore.

Hajime breathed out, fingers wanting so desperately to touch the other, to hold him, like it was an action already ingrained deep in his bones. And what was stopping him now?

"I mean, it was but..." Hajime inched forward, pushing the camera and binoculars aside haphazardly, not caring. The words were useless at this point too, they both knew. This whole game of secrets between them never had worked in the past. Why had they thought it would now?

Tooru didn't complain as Hajime came into his space naturally, only leaned forward himself, teeth nibbling his bottom lip. Those perfect lips...

"But?" Tooru's eyes twinkled, and really, how could Hajime resist?

"But nothing," he said, bringing up a hand to cup Tooru's face. He was aware of the sounds of chatter increasing, of car trunks slamming and people packing up as the movie ended, but he ignored all of it, the reason for the stakeout completely forgotten as Tooru smiled at him, only him.

"Hajime," Tooru said, and he'd missed how nice and smooth his name sounded on Tooru's lips. It had been a few years since they'd addressed each other so familiarly, but it was as natural as ever. Hajime nodded in response, waiting, craving. "Kiss me."

Tooru barely got the last syllable out before Hajime's lips were on his, confident but soft, and Hajime sighed at Tooru's warmth, his taste, his everything.

His nerves tingled, his toes curled, all the usual sappy shit which he thought was a lie before, but for some reason it didn't feel new. It felt right, like kissing Tooru was something he was made to do. God, it felt amazing.

He adjusted the angle, pulling back multiple times, never taking too long of a breath before kissing the other again. It was addicting, the soft smack of lips and the feel of Tooru's hands on his neck. Tooru's lips tasted salty from his chips, and Hajime greedily swiped his tongue along the edge to clean up the excess, enjoying the hum of approval he got in return.

Everything in him was screaming to continue to take more, like he'd been literally starving for it, and Tooru gave every indication of being okay with it. So, he did as he pleased. Hajime leaned forward, pushing Tooru back until he was lying on the blanket, and he could've carried on like that honestly, totally blissed out, with Tooru's tongue sneaking its way into his mouth, deepening the kiss...

But then it hit him.

His mind seemed to snap like a steel trap around the moment, choosing to flood him with memories he'd never seen before. Ones where he was kissing Tooru...loving him...

There was flashes of a chamber, a palace...heat of torches along with the kisses.

The saltiness of the ocean spray, instead of potato chips, cramped together in a tent.

The freshness of the outdoors and sweat of a dancers cramped together.

Tooru. Tooru, Tooru, Tooru. Over and over again.

They broke apart, breathing heavy, and the sight of Tooru with his pupils blown wide and his face flushed was nearly enough to make him forget about whatever had just happened. "Beautiful," he muttered, and it triggered another round of weird images, memories, like he'd said the compliment aloud before, and he really hadn't. Not in front of Tooru.

The brunet flushed more, clearing his throat when the sounds of car engines revving came from below the hill. Scooting back, Hajime looked down, and saw the clearing being emptied of cars, the movie screen being taken down by some workers as well. It broke the spell at least, but he couldn't shake the weird feeling of sand under his fingers, or the smell of smoke in his lungs.

"Iwa-chan, did you...um--"

"Yeah," he said, glancing back at his best friend, who still seemed in a daze, whether from the kiss or the experience. "I don't know what that was."

He wasn't sure he'd ever find out either, or if it would happen again, but he was nevertheless calm about it. The experience hadn't been distressing, or dreadful in anyway. It had actually felt...nice. He couldn't place why but, he felt like pulling Tooru close, never letting him go, his vulnerability and protective instincts melding together, the definition of his relationship with Tooru. Mutual support. As if he could push those sensations away.

He laughed as Tooru shrugged, seemingly not bothered either, and reached forward to squeeze Tooru's hand. "But that was...I really...you're--"

Tooru snorted, falling forward to bury his face in Hajime's neck. "You're so bad with words Iwa-chan. Does my magnificent self really leave you so speechless?"

"Yes," he answered instantly, and damn he was probably red up to his ears, but he was going to share the embarrassment damn it. "Even though you're a shit."

Tooru pushed him, playfully, but Hajime took the weight gladly, falling back until they were a tangled heap on the grass, and was rewarded by a sharp yelp from the boy in his arms.

Victory.

Tooru's head popped up ruefully, the expression fading into gentle comfort as he rested his head on Hajime's chest, content with the quiet of the outdoors, even as it got colder and colder. "You know...whatever happened just then, it made me feel all clingy. It's disgusting."

Hajime rolled his eyes, mostly out of agreement. He was fucking freezing his ass off, his back was probably stained with dirt, and they should've been heading home, but he did not want to let go of Tooru for anything. "Sadly, I get it. You're too heavy for this shit too."

"Wow."

"But," Hajime continued, steeling himself for the teasing he was sure to be subjected to. "I really like you. I have for...a long time."

"How long?" Tooru's voice was small, devoid of any smugness or mockery, and it reminded Hajime how insecure he could be at times, how doubtful about the good things about him. Hajime squeezed him tighter.

"Right at the end of middle school probably? Maybe longer, and I just didn't realize honestly," he admitted, the exhale of Tooru's breath like music to his ears. "What about you?"

"Middle school, I don't remember exactly but, around then," the brunet whispered.

God, I'm so stupid.

He felt like he'd wasted time, but he was content somehow, like his brain was telling him not to worry. He was right on time.

Tooru scooted up, and Hajime met him happily, their lips meeting again softly, hopefully not for the last time. He wouldn't let it be the last time.

"I found you." He heard a voice say, but he pushed it aside, choosing to focus all his attention on the boy in his arms, and to never let that attention shift for anything.

Tooru hadn't known what to make of the visions when they'd first happened, but he was never one to distrust his instincts, or the workings of fate, so he received them enthusiastically, more and more curious with each one. He figured they'd run out at some point, that they'd stop at some point, but they were infinite, and and as he and Hajime passed into their third year, he got used to them. Tooru became captain, and Hajime was still his ace, his best friend, and now boyfriend.

The memories came during big events in their lives, new experiences they shared.

When they had sex for the first time, Tooru thought he could smell bathing oils, thought he could hear the jingle of sashes and felt so desperate for Hajime's touch, it was blinding.

When he hurt his knee, and had called Hajime in the middle of the night to come pick him off the gym floor, he coughed from the feeling of smoke invading his lungs, the sensation of hopelessness as the world faded around him. Then when Hajime was there, instant relief flooded him, accompanied by images of the beach and a subway station.

When they'd lost against Shiratorizawa, he'd felt stabbing regret and loss. He and Hajime, along with the rest of the team, had worked their asses off, only to fall short once more. Maybe it was him, maybe he wasn't a worthy captain after all. He considered throwing in the towel right then, his third year already off to a bad start. But of course, leave it to Hajime to see right through his pretend confidence, and together, they got the drive to practice even harder. And somehow the visions told him a story of endless searching, and sailing seas and hiking through deserts, never giving up.

Really, it was like a story, but all the dots weren't there, and when he was bored he found himself piecing the story together. He wondered if they were fragments from his dreams, on those nights when he'd had too much sugar or exposure to stress during the day. Perhaps that's why he couldn't remember dreaming it, but he must've, right?

There was no other explanation, unless he was being probed, which while cool, was sort of a let down. The aliens could do better than making Tooru fall more in love with Hajime than he already was. It was a dangerous game, since there was no limit to that.

"Why are you smiling like an idiot?" Hajime looked at him, sleepy eyes opening to reveal the grey color Tooru loved so much.

They were supposed to be doing homework or preparing for their university entrance exams, but the day was too peaceful, overcast, and honestly, it made Tooru feel lazier than usual. Normally his boyfriend would nag him on these days, and they'd end up working through their studies together, but Hajime had simply plopped down onto Tooru's bed when they'd arrived him, opening his arms in a silent invitation for the brunet to join him, and now they were well into their second hour of being completely unproductive. It was the best.

"Nothing, I'm just..." Tooru shrugged, breathing in the cool air seeping in through the window. "Happy."

Happy. Stupidly happy.

There were still a lot of uncertain things up ahead for them, he knew that. There was the spring tournament, university, the possibility of a long distance relationship, and life on his own. Surely there would be let downs, fights, things he couldn't handle alone. The stress was immense. What if he and Hajime weren't together in a year’s time? What if his volleyball career went nowhere? There were too many unknowns, he hated it. But regardless, he couldn't shake the content feeling, like somehow things would fall into place.

Hajime leaned down, kissing his forehead. "Yeah, me too."

And then, the uneventful calm brought them another vision, different from the ones marked by life changing events, fragmentary and fuzzy.

Hajime fixed Tooru's crown for the twelfth time that night, complaining about the other's sloppy appearance. Tooru had to constantly remind him that if he was truly the prince, people would recognize him without the crown, screw tradition. Plus, wasn't he, out of everyone, allowed the most leeway in the palace? Yes, maybe he was being a brat, but it was for good reason. The silver gleamed too brightly and hardly matched his usual style of dress. The rubies and engravings clashed in his opinion, but alas, he was seldom allowed anywhere without the thing. It also made sneaking around a feat.

While sitting in his chamber with Hajime, reading books or lost in the sheets, was a fun time, sometimes he liked taking the other into town or having a romantic stroll in the garden. But they were always under watch, people always stared at him, there was never a moment of relief. Then there were his boring duties and meetings, none of which concerned him much, and now he was being faced with one he couldn't escape...

"What are we going to do Hajime?" He whispered into the silence of the night, his foot kicking at the water of the pond below him. This was the only time they could be outside together, without snooping eyes. "Where will we go? You're going to have to be the one who is good with directions, because my eyes definitely can't read what's on those tiny maps and--"

"What are you on about now?" Hajime said, sighing again as Tooru's crown tilted, and choosing to forgo it this time completely. He grabbed the extravagant band, placing it down on the grass, and rifled his fingers through Tooru's hair. The touch was welcome, a comfort to Tooru's scattered mind.

"What do you mean? We have to run away," Tooru informed, because it truly was obvious. "I can't marry someone from a neighboring kingdom. I won't have it."

Hajime sighed, his hands stopping in their ministrations to grab Tooru's, bringing it to his lips with a chaste kiss. "Tooru...you know that's not your decision. Your parents insist--"

"Well that's not fair! I'm the next king, I should have a say!"

"Well you don't," Hajime bit back, the facade of obedient bodyguard fully dropping when it was only the two of them. Now they were just two best friends, lovers. "And you can't run away, you don't know what it's like out there and...neither do I. I can protect you here."

"You can't be with me here though," he snapped back, his hand tightening on the other's. Ha, what a joke. Even when he was furious, he couldn't sever the touch.

It did the trick, it shut Hajime up, and Tooru almost felt guilty during the minute of silence between them. He thought of maybe pushing the topic away, their time was short after all, they should enjoy it. But he also knew they needed to have the conversation at some point, and he wasn't one to put things off. Had never been allowed to, as the prince.

Hajime, who was always by his side, who hopefully always would be, never was one to put off problems either, but he was sorely mistaken if he thought Tooru would be so complacent in this.

Fat chance.

"Tooru," he eventually sighed, pulling the prince close to him. "I love you, but my first priority is your safety, and you're safest here."

Tooru's eyes flashed in hurt. "But--"

"But," Hajime continued, and it was only then Tooru noticed his voice was shaking. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix this...I don't want you to marry, I just--"

Hajime swallowed thickly, a death grip on Tooru as he sent a nasty glare at the polished crown lying a few feet away. Sometimes Tooru forgot that Hajime had essentially grown up in the palace as well, sheltered, cared for. He was as lost and powerless as Tooru in this, if not more so. He was no noble, had no say or path down which he could fix things for them both. But Tooru knew if he could, he'd do anything, and the thought meant the world to him. The prince's eyes softened, the understanding washing over him as he launched himself at his bodyguard, sending them both to the ground.

"Ow! Toor--"

"I love you too," he whispered, refusing to meet Hajime's eyes. The last thing he wanted was for people to think he'd been crying in the morning. Not attractive. "We can figure this out together though, I know it! We have to!"

He refused to be afraid of the future and what it held, because if he had Hajime by his side, experiencing it all with him, it would work out for the best. They were going to be together, no matter what it took, Tooru wouldn't give up.

Hajime tensed up underneath him, but moments later, his strong arms were cradling Tooru, like they had since they were children, sealing their promise for lifetimes.

"Yeah, we do."

It was like a movie clip, from how clear and uninterrupted it was, and Tooru gasped as it faded away, the arms around him tightening to near discomfort. It was like the memory opened up a floodgate, and now his heart rate was accelerating, his mind finally making sense of the fragments, the words. It was overwhelming, the emotions rushing through him. Anger, longing, happiness...all of them stretched across lifetimes. Lifetimes. He shot up, not breaking his eye contact with Hajime. "I-I..."

"You're the only one I want."

"We've been reincarnated once and you think you're going to be taller every time?"

"This isn't the last time. Not by a long shot."

"So...you're a nerd in this life Hajime?"

"Of course one life wouldn't be enough for you..."

It hadn't been. Not at all.

I'll find you. I'll always find you.

He remembered.

The darkness, the smoke, each new life. It all hit him in a rush, and from the way Hajime tackled him, he'd felt it too. He'd seen. Oh my god we...

Hajime was crushing him under his weight, but Tooru accepted it gladly, the relief overpowering in the best way. "Tooru..."

"Oh my god," he said, the tears welling up against his will. "I-I...you..." We did it.

Hajime nodded against him, pulling away and holding Tooru's face like he could disappear at any minute. But he wouldn't, not this time. "Yeah dummy, I found you."

And the words had never sounded better, being the last time he'd ever hear them.

He laughed, the tears spilling in buckets, but Hajime kissed him despite his complaints, and oh boy, if Tooru thought they weren't going to get their homework done before, they definitely weren't now.

Fine by him.

He tackled Hajime again, sending them into a heap on the soft sheets of his bed, dead set on not leaving the spot for at least a few more hours. Hajime didn't seem like he'd be objecting either, so all the better.

Yeah, this was how it was always supposed to be, and he couldn't help but thank the universe, for the extra chances, for the final pardon.

"I love you," he whispered through the tears, and Hajime grinned at him, bright enough to blind.

"I love you too."

And really, he knew that, knew it like his own name, but it never got old to hear.

"Okay but, technically I found you first because--"

"Tooru?"

"Hm?"

"Shut it."

There were a lot of years ahead of them, but Tooru didn't want to waste any, though he figured it wasn't something he had to worry about much. Simply being with Hajime was an adventure, but he was determined to make the most out of it regardless, exploring the world, living their dreams, until the natural end came. He didn't know when that would be, but somehow he wasn't so bitter and mistrusting of the universe anymore. He'd earned this, he and Hajime both had, and he was going to spend his final, full life being grateful for it. And really, he ought to get started, university was right around the corner, and he'd have to use his free time wisely, in between all his studies. If he wanted to be on the national team and married to Hajime in four years, he was going to have to take it seriously.

Smiling to himself as he set down the last box into their new apartment, Tooru let Hajime pull him close, the feelings of content mirrored in every movement. Yeah, there's definitely a lot to do. I can't wait.

And well, life was short, after all.

#iwaoi #adri writing #hq fanfic #haikyuuwriters

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satorisa · 7 years ago

Text

Lift the Veil - Chapter 9

Lift the Veil - Chapter 9: Ghost

Rating: T

Summary: After living in Tokyo for the past six years, she decides to head back to Azumano to escape the big city. However, she now has to face everything that she tried to flee from all those years ago. How exactly will she fare when the pages of a long forgotten book start turning once more?

Read On: FanFiction.Net, Archive of Our Own

(I am a filthy liar.)

This chapter was brought to you LATE by this lovely song, headcanons that belong to @fugitivehugs and @keikotwins (the police force doting on Satoshi and Kei having a brother) [also if you are not them and reading this and so happen to love DNAngel, go ahead and hit up these wonderful people!!!], the former’s love for Kei Hiwatari, and the boy that influenced the dinner scene with Satoshi, making that one singular scene so difficult to deal with that it delayed my progress by several days.

Thank you.

Without further ado, here is the ~8000 word behemoth born from a terrible decision to merge two chapters together. Please enjoy for my sake.

Chapter 9 – Ghost

This time, I might just disappear.

“Someone’s late today,” Saehara smirked.

“Shut up,” I breathed, winded from having rushed over here. “What’d I miss?”

“This!” He gestured to the surprisingly busy police force. Most of them carried huge boxes of paperwork while they frantically ran around, but some of them had a gift of some sort in their hands. They briefly stepped into the Police Commissioner’s office only to come out moments later with their colorful presents replaced by paperwork as, they too, joined the horde and scurried to their destinations. “What do you think is going on?”

I shrugged before sitting down to work while Saehara shot up, steno pad in his hand, to satiate his curiosity. He returned much later than usual, plopping onto the sofa with uncharacteristic lethargy and a distant expression on his face. His clothes became more wrinkled during his absence and his hair, although already unruly, started reaching Einstein levels of messiness.

“Hey, Harada-imouto, I think you should go check up on Satoshi.”

“Why should I?”

“Please.”

Hearing the desperation in his voice, I headed towards Hiwatari’s office and knocked. No one answered, so I let myself in, softly opening and closing the door behind me. There Hiwatari laid on his sofa, staring up at the ceiling. He turned to face me, and I felt cornered from his stare.

“Are you…okay?” I croaked even though it was painfully obvious that he wasn’t.

He shook his head before sitting up, patting the seat next to him, but I sat on the other side of the sofa, ample space away from him. He looked lost, staring at his hands as if they weren’t his.

I didn’t want to pry, knowing that I would be overstepping a boundary if I asked. My presence during such a vulnerable time was already pushing it. And so we sat there in silence, intermittently disturbed by someone dropping a gift off with words of encouragement and consolation in exchange for some paperwork.

Hiwatari’s mood didn’t seem to improve, despite the gestures of his coworkers, so I pulled out my phone and messaged Daisuke. He arrived fairly quickly, and I left the room before one of them could stop me. When I returned to my workspace, Saehara wasn’t there, so I sat down and continued my work to get my mind off of Hiwatari.

Despite everything, Hiwatari always seemed to have his life under control. When college entrance exam time rolled around, Riku got so stressed out from the extensive cram school sessions she had. Even Daisuke, known for heading to bed at a reasonable time, stayed up late finishing up his portfolio for admissions. And I had quickly cracked under the sheer amount of studying I decided to undertake. But Hiwatari stayed collected despite his workload, somehow managing to free up his already packed schedule in case any one of us needed him.

Then again, I knew he was better at hiding it compared to most people. And before walking into that office, I had only seen him remotely shut down twice.

The first time was during the Kokuyoku fiasco. And the second was when…

…it was when he decided to completely share his story of Rio HIkari, of the burden he bared, of the relationship he shared with Kei. He managed to maintain his composure until he finished and saw me crying.

He pulled me into an embrace so tight that I couldn’t breathe before burying his face into the crook of my neck. Despite his unwavering voice, I felt his warm tears fall on my skin as he apologized for telling me his story over and over again. I returned his hug, hoping that it would at least give him some comfort, but he didn’t stop until he had fallen asleep, probably spent from all that crying. Just like a child, I tucked him in next to me, holding him close as I patted his head until, I too, drifted off.

Seeing him, looking like that on that sofa, almost spurred me to pull him into my arms and cry.

Almost.

Coming back home after work, I rested my feet on the sofa and turned on the TV. I decided to leave the Japanese drama rerun on, enjoying the end of another busy day when I heard the front door swing open then slam shut, revealing a frustrated Riku. She tossed her purse onto the countertop before removing her hair tie and marching upstairs. Minutes later, she came down, having changed from her work clothes into a t-shirt and jeans before shooting me a look of both anger and confusion.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Did…something happen?” I checked my phone in case I had missed a message, but there was nothing.

The emotions on her face subsided, replaced by realization. “So you actually didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That Kei Hiwatari died. We’re—”

I blocked out everything Riku said after those words, turning off the TV and stumbling towards her. I was already in my pajamas, but I didn’t care enough to change into something more presentable. My brain had shut down trying to fully process the news while Riku rambled on beside me as my legs went through the motions, carrying me to wherever the hell our destination was.

We eventually arrived at the Niwa household and walked in to see Hiwatari next to Daisuke on the floor at the low table with Saehara and Akane across from them. Mrs. Emiko, Mr. Kosuke, and Grandpa Daiki sat on the sofa, indifferent to the situation. Argentine and Towa weren’t present, probably because of extra people in the house, and Ritsuko leaned against a wall, busy with her phone. Riku, unaffected by the stifling silence, sat next to Daisuke, completely in control of the situation as she comforted Hiwatari while I took my place by Ritsuko on the outskirts of the group.

To think that Hiwatari would willingly have this many people around him during such a time without him having any qualms about their presence was not something I ever expected to witness.

“What happened?” Riku calmly asked, and her words sounded like glass shattering onto a cold, hard floor.

“Kei’s brother called him this morning saying that Kei had passed, and that he’s going to Vienna to help prepare the funeral,” Daisuke explained. “Satoshi, you don’t have to go if you—”

“I have to go,” Hiwatari adamantly said. “I just can’t go alone.”

“But your uncle will be there,” Saehara pointed out.

“I…I need one of you there with me.”

I watched the people at the table look at each other with regret. One by one, they started listing off legitimate reasons for why they couldn’t accompany Hiwatari. As much as his friends loved and cared for him, they couldn’t exactly put their lives on hold for a week. No one had the time, unfortunately. After he asked the younger adults in the room, he briefly caught my eye before shaking his head, sparing the two of us from having a contrived conversation. He turned around, about to ask the older Niwas when Riku decided to open that big, fat mouth of hers.

“What about Risa?” she asked. I bit my lip and felt Ritsuko lightly placed her hand on my arm. This wasn’t going to be pretty. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have anything planned for next week.”

“Riku, I really don’t think I’m in any position to accompany him,” I told her. “My supervisor probably won’t let me have such a long break since I was recently hired. And I’m sure Daisuke’s relatives wouldn’t mind going with him.”

“But if you can go, why do you have to bother them? After all, you’re—”

“Riku.” Hiwatari’s stern voice cut through her words. I winced. “I appreciate your sentiments, but you shouldn’t push Harada-san to come with me if she doesn’t want to. You may be her sister but that doesn’t mean that you can speak for her on her behalf.” He looked like he wanted to say more but he pursed his lips instead, as if he had to physically stop himself from whatever else might’ve poured out.

She quieted down, shocked from Hiwatari’s scolding, and the evening continued, heavy with tension despite Saehara’s best attempts at lightening the mood, until everyone started leaving. Riku wanted to head home too but, after what happened earlier, I didn’t want to be alone with her, so Daisuke accompanied her home, leaving only me and Hiwatari left. The older Niwas had retired upstairs after everyone unanimously decided that Kosuke would go with Hiwatari, and the artworks were about, cleaning up after the company.

“You…really didn’t have to do that,” I told him from my new spot across from him at the low table. “I would’ve eventually butt in once I couldn’t stand it anymore. And Riku is right in a way, you know.”

“I know, but the way she was acting pissed me off.”

“She meant well. She’s just looking out for you, that’s all.”

“It’s annoying.”

I smiled, seeing myself from several days ago. “That just means she cares.”

The ticking of the clock and the whir of the air conditioner filled the space between us. Argentine and Towa left the kitchen around then, and I shot them an apology for my last visit as they passed by to go upstairs. They replied saying that it was their mistake for not being aware of the situation, eying both Hiwatari and I as they slowly made their way up, probably wary to leave us alone. But they too eventually left, and the miscellaneous noises of the house rushed back in.

“Hey,” I carefully started, picking at my chipped nail polish. Anything to make the delivery easier and keep my attention from Hiwatari’s face. And also to get my mind off the words about to leave my mouth. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Silence, probably from processing and contemplation. “I don’t want to impose. And Kosuke is more than capable. Really.”

If anyone was imposing, it was me. “You’re not.” Now, I had to make a joke to lighten the situation. Force a smile… “Besides, Vienna sounds like a fun vacation.”

“You’re supposed to support me, not gallivant through a foreign city by your lonesome.” Failure. I could hear the disbelief in his voice.

Alright. I could still salvage this. “I’m joking.” But I kind of wasn’t. “Half joking. I’ll pay for myself. And Vienna really does sound fun to explore during our down time. Kosuke still has to come as some type of buffer and dependable support, but I’ll be there for comfort or whatever else you need. Plus, the more the merrier, right?” Damn, nervous rambling was not a part of my plan.

“…why?”

“I…don’t know. I know that I really shouldn’t be going on this trip with you but, at the same time, I can’t exactly bring myself to leave you be in that situation, especially when I know that, to some degree, I’m able to handle it. And no, it’s not because of what Riku said. It’s of my own volition.”

I couldn’t not stare at Hiwatari anymore, so I cautiously looked up from my nails. He had a gentle smile on his face. I hadn’t seen that expression in such a long time. If the table hadn’t been between us, as well as everything else in the past, he probably would’ve hugged me. Or I would’ve hugged him. Well, some sort of physical sign of gratitude would’ve occurred for sure even if it wasn’t an embrace.

“Thank you.” Those words came across as a whisper. “Let me walk you home.”

I shook my head as we both got up. “Walk me to your place.” He shot me a concerned look. “It’s already late, so I don’t want to bother anyone. You’re sleeping here tonight, too. And after your stunt earlier, I don’t think me heading back home is a good idea.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be unconscious for most of my time there, so it’s fine. And I’ll head back home tomorrow morning after I wake up. Right now, Riku needs some sleep and time by herself.”

I sent her a message telling her not to wait up for me before following Hiwatari back to his apartment. He opened his front door while I settled down on the sofa.

“You can take my bed,” he offered. I looked at him like he was insane, and he retreated into his room, coming back out with two pillows and a blanket. “Hopefully, these don’t stink.” He then left his keys on the table in front of me. “Just hand them over tomorrow. Good night, Harada-san.”

“Good night, Hiwatari-san. And thank you.”

I locked the door behind him before fixing the pillows and blanket. Surprisingly, the sofa was quite soft, his pillows were fluffy yet supportive, and his blanket was wonderfully plush but…

Well, they didn’t stink per say, but they stunk of him.

Turning on some music, I fell asleep listening to a piano, floating away from my odd present.

We had made the mutual decision not to tell anyone of the new nature of our relationship. We weren’t dating or formally boyfriend and girlfriend; rather, we danced past being just friends into a realm of confusing boundaries filled with almosts and not-quite-rights.

He came over often, about every other day or so, and we’d keep each other company until we were too spent to do anything else. Still running on an oxytocin high, we’d lay there in the dark, me usually encased in his arms, as we talked about anything and everything. He’d share little tidbits about himself, like why he liked kit-kats so much (his host parents always had some lying around, so he’d sometimes snack on a few while studying) or why he preferred sunrises to sunsets (something about how the night would give way to the day and that, during those brief moments, the world would pause just to admire the horizon’s beauty.) And, other times, he would talk about Krad or his father.

Whenever he spoke of Kei, he sounded like he was talking about a boss or a colleague: his voice was laced with respect and slight discomfort, lacking any sort of familiarity in his tone. However, as we spent more time together, that façade crumbled away as Hiwatari began to tell me stories of the Kei he knew growing up. He shared memories of playing together with him, of looking up to him, of moments filled with unimaginable joy. The picture he painted drastically contrasted that of the Kei I knew. But something happened, and the kindness that Kei once genuinely possessed became a charade he hid behind, obscuring his manipulative and selfish soul underneath.

Whatever ounce of love that was there was gone, and Hiwatari became a tool for Kei to have some control over the Hikari artworks. With a smile, he’d use cleverly veiled threats or even offer some insincere familial love to coerce Hiwatari to follow his plans. All the unspeakable events that happened were, in some way, shape, or form, the results of Kei’s orders.

Hiwatari hated Krad, but he hated Kei even more because, deep inside, he wanted to believe in those words of affirmation and love. He wanted to, and fooled himself into trusting them, until Kei had rudely reminded him of the harsh truth of his reality. He could deal with Krad’s toxicity; he was predictable, and Hiwatari eventually became numb to that parasite residing in his body. But he couldn’t deal with Kei, with the man he could no longer read. Krad could literally turn his body into a bloody mess and Hiwatari would mindlessly deal with it, but a single word from Kei sent his brain into overdrive as he fought against his logos and pathos.

And when Krad was finally sealed away for good and Kei had disappeared, Hiwatari didn’t know how to deal with this sudden freedom. Instead of properly dealing with the dependency issues thrust upon him, he flung himself towards friends and work. While Kei still had a strong hold on the poor boy, it eventually waned with time.

Alas, with the death of someone you equal parts loved and hated, anyone would find themselves struggling with their phantom once more.

After a less than restful sleep, I headed back home to freshen up for another day at work. I headed to the news station first, asking if I could take a week’s leave because of a family emergency. And when I miraculously got that, I headed straight for the police station, dropping off Hiwatari’s keys and admiring the care baskets and flowers that decorated his office before heading out to my usual spot, greeting Takeshi with a smile.

He smiled before hugging me, almost in tears at the fact that I finally used his first name. That alone just made my day.

And after I headed home, I sat in the dining room with my music deafeningly loud while I browsed apartment listings. I stumbled upon a one bed, one bath close to the cliffs with a beautiful view of the ocean. Mizuame de Noisette was close by too, so I could always drop by if I wanted to treat myself without worrying anyone. I bookmarked it, but I still went through the list to see if anything could top it.

“Boo!”

I screamed before turning around to see Riku straight from work. She had her hair up in a little stub of a ponytail, and her bangs were clipped to the side. She wore all black, reminding me of a ninja whose sole purpose was to terrify her sister.

“You’re going to blow out your eardrums if you listen to music that loudly,” she chirped, lowering its volume before taking the seat next to me. “So, what’re you doing?”

“Looking for apartments.”

“Risa, do you hate me that much that you need to leave me?” I shot her a dirty look, and she just cackled. “I kid. Has anything caught your eye?”

“Yup. If I sign the lease, move-in’s only a month away.”

“A month? But that’s when Daisuke and I are going to Zurich!” she exclaimed.

“Well, you can always visit after your trip.” And she would, inevitably, drop by after Daisuke pops the question. I bit my lip to keep myself from accidentally spilling.

“But it’s not going to be the same! Moving in is the fun part!”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun as long as you’re not around.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

We both laughed. Luckily, she hadn’t said anything about last night, so I assumed that she had gotten over it. That or the fact that she conveniently forgot about it. But, knowing her, she was waiting to bring it up, and the brief lull we found ourselves in was the perfect time to change the conversation.

“So, about last night…” she started, as if on cue. “I’m sorry. It seemed like you guys were getting along, so I thought it’d be okay.”

“Don’t worry about it. You meant well.”

“It’s hard seeing you two act like that, especially since you two got along so well in high school. I’d never seen the two of you happier, which is saying something considering that Satoshi’s pretty content these days.”

I took in a deep breath before letting it out in a long and prominent exhale. Riku really did have a way with words. And by that, I meant that she knew exactly what to say to worsen an already sensitive situation.

“Sorry,” she quickly apologized after noticing my obvious discomfort.

“It’s fine.” We found ourselves at yet another stalemate, and the light notes of my music floated through the air. “Well, to change the subject, I’m going with Hiwatari-san and Mr. Kosuke to Vienna.”

“Are you sure? You’re not pushing yourself to go or anything?”

“Nah. It sounds like a great vacation.” Riku rolled her eyes at that. “Honestly though? I felt like I had to go. Not just to support him, because I know I can’t fully do that by myself which is why Mr. Kosuke is still going, but also for myself. For closure, you know? Maybe if I saw Hiwatari do it, I might be able to do it, too.”

“For Dark? Or for Satoshi?”

“Why mention Hiwatari-san?”

“Risa, we’re not that dumb. Everyone knows that what happened in high school was because of Satoshi. It’s just no one knows why. You two are awfully good at staying mum about it.”

“For both, I suppose.”

She nodded before getting up. “Well, I feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome by meeting the ‘dark side’ of Risa, so I’ll leave you be. Just knock on my door if you need me, good luck with searching, and you better bring me along to see the place when you tour it!”

Meekly waving her goodbye, I returned to my screen, turning the volume up so loudly that I started thinking to its beat, drowning the silence of the night with the waves of piano runs.

“Why is he here?” Risuko asked, frowning when she noticed Takeshi trailing behind me. She messaged me in the morning, asking to meet up for lunch as a check-up of sorts and, well, I was in the mood to eat out despite it being my turn to bring lunch for me and Takeshi so he, unfortunately, decided to tag along.

“For food. Don’t mind him.” Yet she very much so did, shooting him a nasty look that I could feel him returning. I headed over to the hostess, asking to be seated to avoid their petty fight that they continued when it came to deciding who would sit next to me once we arrived at our table and I, fed up with them, shot them a glare as they slunk into the seats across from me. If they couldn’t get along, the proper thing to do was have them sit together and stare at the empty spot they couldn’t have.

After the waiter took our orders and menus, Ritsuko decided to break the silence.

“How’re you feeling?” she cautiously asked.

I shrugged. “Alright? I do know that I’m excited to go to Vienna.”

“Wait, you’re going with him?” they simultaneously asked, shooting each other a disgusted look before returning to me.

“Are you sure you’re not pushing yourself?” Ristuko’s voice was laced with concern.

“You shouldn’t have to feel obligated to go because no one else can,” Takeshi added.

Even though this was starting like my conversation with Riku last night, I didn’t want it to follow the same direction it did, so I had to come up with an excuse.

“Well, Mr. Kosuke is dependable, but he’s more of a family member and mentor than a friend. And sometimes you just need a friend.”

“You two aren’t exactly friends,” Ritsuko pointed out. Crap. Bad call. “Out of all of us, you’re the least qualified to go with him.”

“We’re just worried about you two, yanno? Dealing with the death of that jackass of a father isn’t something you can just casually deal with.” I expected him to make some type of gesture, like one of those detectives when they’re explaining something in the movies, but he sat there with his arms resting on the table like any other person. “You probably know a helluva lot more about that douchebag than me for sure, but that’s a heavy burden you’re going to help him carry. You’re gonna have to be strong if you want to support Satoshi because you’re getting yourself into a situation where the past and present are gonna intertwine into a terrifying beast, and it might be too much for you to handle.”

“I know.” The waiter came by, dropping off our waters. I laughed when he left, and both Ritsuko and Takeshi watched me in confusion. “Sorry, I just never thought I’d have a serious conversation with you, Takeshi.”

He shot me a toothy grin. “Chief said the same thing a while back.”

And with that, the conversation returned to casual ground. Ritsuko and Takeshi argued, somehow still unable to get along with each other for some reason. At some point, I was worried that they’d start flinging their food at each other, but they still had some shred of decorum. (This is considering the fact that they started to kick each other under the table, however that works whenever you’re kicking someone sitting next to you.)

When we left the restaurant, Ritsuko pulled me into a hug, wishing me well. Her hands lingered on my shoulder much longer than necessary. She probably meant it as encouragement, as well as a silent message to rethink my decision, before elegantly walking away in her heels.

Work went along just like any other day until it was time for Takeshi to leave. Instead of flying out those doors as soon as he was off the clock, he sat next to me with his attention on his phone. He left when Hiwatari walked out, but the two of them stood outside the station and talked as if they were waiting for someone.

After I edited the last story, I packed up and walked outside, about ready to just pass the men by until Takeshi stopped me.

“Um…see ya tomorrow, Risa.” Takeshi never seemed at a loss for words; in fact, he just couldn’t contain what he wanted to share with the world. But, at that moment, he sounded like he was struggling to even string a sentence together, as if, for once, he had no idea what to say. Takeshi hesitated, and I realized that his prolonged presence was along the same lines as Ritsuko’s earlier gesture before he finally walked off at a normal pace with his hands in his pockets.

He probably wanted to walk me home, but Hiwatari said something. Hiwatari always did something, if I had to be honest.

“You scared him off,” I teased even though I wished that Takeshi didn’t leave.

“He had somewhere to be is all,” he smoothly replied, but we both knew that that was a lie. “Is it alright if I accompany you home for the day?”

“Why the sudden urge for chivalry?”

“I just…I wanted to talk to you. Lighten the load before we head off to Vienna?”

“Why not dissuade me like the level-headed person you are?”

“Well, I would, but you’re awfully stubborn when you’ve already set your mind on something. And, despite our circumstances, knowing that you’re there gives me a sense of comfort that even Kosuke couldn’t grant me.”

Somewhere inside, his words made me wince. And so, we headed back home in the twilight as we chatted. I learned about why Ritsuko and Takeshi still couldn’t get along. (He had somehow accidentally sabotaged a good date and potential relationship, and there was no way in hell that she was going to let it go anytime soon.) Hiwatari also talked about Daisuke’s potential proposal plan which resulted in us having second-hand embarrassment from the likely case that something goes completely wrong.

“That was nice,” I told Hiwatari at the gate, reluctantly admitting to myself that I was enjoying his casual presence. “Thank you for walking me.”

He shook his head. “No, thank you for letting me walk with you.”

I had half a mind to say farewell so I could spent the evening berating myself at my sudden change in heart, but I paused halfway through the gate and turned around. “Would you—um—like to stay for dinner?”

Hiwatari blinked, caught off-guard by my offer, before giving me a small smile to offset his initial shock. “Sure. Thank you.”

He pushed the already open gate wider, waiting for me to fully walk in before letting it shut behind us. I awkwardly fumbled with my keys, trying not to crack under Hiwatari’s scrutinizing gaze before I finally opened the door to see Riku, dressed up for work, at the countertop.

She turned around to see us. “Hey, Risa! And what’s up, Satoshi?”

“Hopefully not Kei,” he responded, and my sister laughed. “Are you headed for work?”

“Yup. In a bit. I’ve been trying to plan our trip to Zurich, but I don’t know what I really want to do.”

“I can send you suggestions later if you’d like.”

“That’d be great. Thanks, Satoshi!” She closed her laptop before hopping off the highchair. “I’ll be off then! You two better behave while I’m gone!” Her cackling lingered in the air long after she closed the door behind her.

“Well, make yourself comfortable,” I told him. “I’m going to ask my parents what they want for dinner.”

“Are you…cooking?” he cautiously asked.

“Yes.” His face blanched. “I’m not that bad, okay? I’ve learned my way around the kitchen after living alone for the past six years.”

He still looked unconvinced, so I left him and headed off to my parents’ room. I knocked on their door and, getting permission to come in, I saw them sitting on the bed next to each other as they watched a movie. My mom leaned on my dad’s shoulder, about ready to fall asleep when she noticed me at the door. She turned to me with a polite smile while my dad turned the volume down.

Usually, I would linger to chat about their day before leaving, but I had quickly asked them what they wanted for dinner (mapo tofu) before leaving the room. They weren’t doing anything remotely disturbing, but I felt awkward, as if stumbled upon something intimate.

Retreating into the kitchen, I grabbed a beer and packaged baumkuchen before joining Hiwatari, who was watching The Phantom of the Opera. I took the seat next to him, trying to disregard the disapproving look on his face.

“You’re going to ruin your dinner.”

“Leave me be,” I grumbled, hearing the click of the can opening and tearing the plastic keeping me away from my cake. “And I didn’t pin you as a musical kind of guy.”

“I watched an official showing during a trip in Prague, and I’ve liked musicals ever since.” He paused. “Miss Saigon’s my favorite.”

I had a stifle a laugh since Christine and Raoul were on the screen, singing their love from the rooftop. Imagine this: Hiwatari sitting in the audience, completely enchanted with the love story unfolding before him. When the scene changed, I excused myself into the kitchen to start cooking and laugh at that mental image. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that Hiwatari had followed me into the kitchen, so I turned around to see him slightly pouting.

“It was touching,” he explained, as if that would help him save face. It only made me laugh harder.

“Touching?” I managed to breathe. “When did you become a sap?”

“When I spent too much time watching dramas with Emiko, Towa, and Argentine, but it might’ve been your grand delusions of romance that started it all.”

I stopped laughing. “Excuse me? My grand delusions of romance? How dare you—”

“Harada-san, at the rate that we’re going, we’re not going to finish cooking dinner tonight.”

“We?”

“As your guest, I insist on helping you. I trust myself to some degree in the kitchen. More so than you, at least.”

Letting his well-meant yet somewhat brutal concern roll off of me, I asked him to wash and cut the vegetables while I cubed the tofu. I finished fairly quickly, putting the tofu aside in a bowl before turning to watch Hiwatari, ever so serious with the mushrooms.

Both of us were helpless cooks in high school. After I moved to Tokyo though, I lived on convenience store food and school food until my friends held an intervention and helped me learn how to cook. Watching Hiwatari carefully cut up those vegetables, awkwardly holding them with his left hand, made me laugh. He looked like he was performing a surgery and not something as menial as cooking.

When he finished them, I tossed them into the pan where the ground beef was already cooking before adding the seasonings. And when all that was left was to leave the food on the stove for a bit, I opened up another can of beer.

K-chk.

“Should you be having another one?” Hiwatari asked wearily.

“It’s the end of the week, and I’m home.”

He nodded, either accepting that answer or deciding not to bother dissuading me. “Hand me one.”

I handed him a can with a smirk. “Are you sure this is enough for you?” I asked, vaguely referencing the huge stash I stumbled upon at his apartment.

“More than enough,” he answered taking a sip, completely unaware of what I was insinuating. “Any more than this, and both Daisuke and Takeshi would have my ass.”

I raised my eyebrows, unsure of how to respond. Sure, that sounded hilarious but—wait, could it be possible that Hiwatari’s worse than me when drunk?

“There’ve been too many instances in which things have happened, so I drink sparingly in public. My apartment, however, is fair game.” He shot me a smirk, and I returned an awkward smile. I didn’t really need the mental image of Hiwatari bumbling around his apartment completely wasted.

We returned to the movie, waiting until the food finished cooking. I called my parents when it was done, and the three of us returned to the table to see Hiwatari setting down the bowls. (He knew where they were?) They greeted each other, quite familiarly, before we dug into the food that everyone complimented me on. I spent most of dinner silent, watching my parents animatedly speak with Hiwatari who was equally engaged. And when we finished, my parents and Hiwatari tided up the table and shooed me upstairs. I changed out of my work clothes into something more comfortable, wiping the makeup off my face before heading downstairs to see that they had finished and moved onto the couch, watching TV while casually chatting.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the scene as an observer. My parents knew Hiwatari since middle school, and they treated him as one of my friends from school whenever he was over back then. But this wasn’t polite small talk. This was friends who often spent time together, just like a makeshift family.

Family? How did this happen? Was it because I was gone? Did Hiwatari conveniently fill the hole that my absence had opened? I just knew, from looking at them, that I had no place in this living room scene, and I quietly headed back up to prepare for seeing the apartment tomorrow and, possibly, signing the lease.

In the middle of a Tsum Tsum game, I heard a knock on my door. After telling whoever it was to come in, the door swung open. Hiwatari stood at the threshold, unmoving, as if there was an invisible barrier keeping him from stepping inside.

“Riku’s here, so I’ll be heading back now.” He slightly bowed. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Thank you for helping me make it. And for keeping my parents company.”

Those last words hurt to utter, but I just forced a small smile to hide the tension building inside me. He didn’t notice, instead nodding before turning around. “Be safe,” I called after him as he walked down the hallway before disappearing from my line of sight. I returned to my phone, trying to tune out the sound of laughter coming from downstairs.

I stood there, face to face with an unconscious Hiwatari in a sterile hospital room. Daisuke and Riku were elsewhere in their own beds, fully conscious and harboring injuries that would only keep them here for a couple more days. I, miraculously, only came out of that ordeal with small bruises and scratches but…

I sat in one of the chairs, taking in the emptiness of his room. My parents were dutifully by Riku’s side, and her room was stuffed with beautiful bouquets, balloons, fruit baskets and gifts galore. She was also healing well. Daisuke’s room was filled with his rambunctious family and food, and his vitality was slowly trickling back after Dark’s final farewell.

But Hiwatari? All he had was this bare room and the possibility that he might not make it. At the time, I only pitied the state that he was in, unaware that this was yet another entry on his ever-growing list of unfortunate events that’ve plagued his life since birth. And that these burdens had estranged him from the human basics of family, friends, and any other forms of love.

He honestly deserved everything he had now. He deserved that job, his unofficial family, and the friends he could finally hold close to him. Perhaps it was my stubbornness that kept me away from that, from finally stepping into my own shoes and living my life. Because Hiwatari moved past everything, but I had decided to wallow in the past and turn the other direction.

And that same stubbornness that kept me away from everyone here who had, some way or another, learned how to live without me.

Riku walked into the kitchen while I had a croissant hanging from my mouth. “Good morning, floating croissant! Here’s to another butter-ful day!” She laughed, tearing off a piece of the pastry before plopping it into her mouth.

I took the croissant out of my mouth. “That was awful.”

“Aw. I thought you liked puns.”

“I think it’s just too early for me to appreciate them right now,” I grumbled, quickly finishing my breakfast.

Riku decided to have some eggs with toast, so I put some bread in the toaster while she labored over the stove. My parents couldn’t accompany me today for reasons I couldn’t recall (or maybe never received), so it was just me and Riku checking out the apartment.

“I can’t wait to see the place,” she said when we finally left the house, basking in the morning sun.

“You’ll love it. The realtor said that I found a steal.”

“Of course you would.”

Groaning at her remark, I ignored her chuckling as we made our way to the apartment. Despite Riku’s pleasant conversation, I couldn’t help but think about how weird it was that my parents weren’t with me. If they’re able to, parents would want to see their child’s new home, right?

Maybe I only had them on my mind because of last night. Growing up, Riku and I weren’t particularly close to them because they were busy with work some way or another. Riku told me they cut down on their hours shortly after I left because their age was catching up to them, and they’ve apparently gotten really close since then. They’d also gotten really close to Hiwatari, too.

I wished I could chalk up their absence to denial at their daughter growing up, but seeing how much they talked to Hiwatari last night, I really didn’t know. Was it unfamiliarity? Was it those six years that I’ve been gone? Or was it a lack of an extremely meaningful relationship during the eighteen years prior to my leave?

Honestly, I thought Hiwatari would be my only problem moving here. Yet there I was, sitting in the trolley and facing the existential crisis hidden by Hiwatari’s initially problematic presence.

Luckily, this trip wasn’t long enough for me to continue down that devastating train of thought, as we arrived at the apartment where the realtor greeted us with a smile. She led us up to the room, allowing us to revel at the wonderful furnishings, big windows, and spacious floorplan.

“If you don’t get this, I’m going to hold it against you for the rest of your life,” she whispered as we headed downstairs to see if I wanted to finalize this decision.

“Well, I’m getting it, so you have one less thing to hang over my head.”

Minutes later, I became the new tenant of apartment 314, at least comforted in the fact that I finally had my own place.

“You really like this café, don’t you?”

We headed towards the cash register, looking at the menu scrawled out above it. “Yeah, you could say that.”

When we finally ordered, the cashier asked if that was all, shooting me a knowing look. I nodded, focused on that ever-present, cordial smile on her face as she greeted the next customer.

Riku chose to sit at the table where I usually spent my drunken evenings, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. We casually talked until a waiter dropped our orders off.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” she asked, suspiciously eying the house salad in front of me.

“Yeah. Why?” Her pasta covered in a cream-based sauce and bowl of hearty soup looked wonderful, but I knew eating that now would be too much. My body could only handle light meals during stressful times, and I was flying out to Vienna in less that twelve hours.

“It’s just odd seeing you eat such healthy food.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She laughed as I crunched on my salad, feigning frustration. I really did miss hanging out with Riku like this.

“You know, it’s weird,” she said, somewhat wistful. “At this age, I thought you’d have a steady boyfriend or even be married while I’d be forever single, wholly uninterested in dating.”

“And yet you’re the one with a boyfriend you’ve been in a relationship with for more than ten years, and I’m the one ‘woefully’ single.”

“Was it Dark?” she calmly asked, channeling that uncanny ability of hers to escalate an innocent conversation.

“What do you mean?” I asked, hoping that she would stop herself if I acted dense.

“That kept you single.”

Apparently, she was dead set on digging. “I don’t think so. I loved him. He loved me. And we were star-crossed lovers that were never meant to be. If anything, it probably was the huge emotional dependency that came with that relationship that’s kept me single.”

“And Hiwatari only made it worse.”

“…yeah. Even though we were friends, I carried a lot from that relationship. More so than Ritsuko and Mari combined.”

Riku raised her eyebrows, as if my claim that Hiwatari and I were friends wasn’t true. “We were friends! F-R-I-E-N-D-S! Why is that not registering in your brain?!”

She laughed. “Sorry. It’s too awkward for me to see you mope like that. And, well, any relationship comes with emotional dependency. You just have to find one that doesn’t have one as high as those.”

“I know.”

“So was it just the emotional dependency issues keeping you from dating?”

It wasn’t. I never even gave any of those guys I went on dates with a chance. Just the idea of letting them in and getting attached to them romantically scared me. If I couldn’t trust myself in a state of infatuation, how could I trust anyone else while I was in said state? To give them a part of me only to have them drop it on the floor in an instant? Who wouldn’t find that absolutely terrifying?

Sure, most of the breakups I’ve heard never reached such dramatic extremes, but I still—

“The fact that you’re not answering me means that there’re more reasons, but you don’t want to tell me about them.” She shook her head. “If this happened because of life in general, I’m sorry and slightly worried about you. But I swear, if it’s someone else’s fault that turned you into someone unwilling to pursue romance, they’re going to have to pay for what they’ve done!” She waved her fork around, almost as if she was practicing for their meeting.

I laughed, appreciating her humorous take on supporting me. But if she ever did find out, I wasn’t sure what she’d do. There were too many possibilities, but I knew they would all be awful.

Once we finished our meal, after transitioning into some talk about skincare, I ordered a drink. Two drinks. Okay, more than two drinks. Riku just watched me with amusement and enlightenment.

“So this is where you go to lose yourself!”

“I can’t help it! These drinks are good!”

“Yeah, good for worrying other people!”

“Come on! Just try a sip! Please!”

She took one. “Okay. I admit it. They’re pretty good, but I’m leaving you here if you have one more.

I whimpered, but she just laughed before looking out the window. I followed her gaze to the sun setting, casting its warm hues on the ocean and filling me with a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in far too long.

“You’re gifted with such a lovely view every day.” She sighed. “One day, there’s going to be someone who’s going to find you to be just as beautiful as this. You’re going to find them equally, if not more, beautiful in return, and that feeling you have right now? That’s how it’s going to feel. None of this despair and anxiety: just peace.”

I blinked, shifting my attention towards Riku, who had a comforting smile on her face. She extended her hand, patting me on the shoulder before grabbing my drink and quickly chugging it down.

“Enough of this mushy stuff; I’m starting to creep myself out.”

Silence.

I focused on my breathing, trying to block out my heartbeats booming in my ears. No matter how hard I tried to run away from my truth, it always came back loud and clear: a deafening reminder of what I gave and couldn’t receive in return.

“Risa?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. “Are you still awake?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I…never thought I’d get this close to anyone.”

“What about Daisuke?”

“Am I currently cradling him in my arms?”

“Well, no. And you shouldn’t because he’s taken.”

His chest rumbled as he laughed, but the atmosphere that briefly lightened turned heavy again. The intimacy returned once more, and something inside of me was slowly dying.

“After everything, I never thought that I would ever let anyone else into my life. But then Daisuke came along, bringing you, Riku, and that family of his into this once very small world of mine. The days I’ve spent with you all, especially considering how much time I thought I had left, are precious to me. But the moments with you are the ones I cherish the most.”

“Because you love me?” I asked, mouth dry from those empty words.

“Yes, because I love you very, very much…”

I rolled over, nuzzling my pillow to drone out the crescendo and fluctuating rhythm inside me. Hiwatari copied my motions, spooning me from behind. His fingers grazed my heck as he brushed my hair aside, leaving butterfly kisses that trailed from my hairline to the nape of my neck. One of his hands found itself under my shirt, slightly caressing my sides.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything but his searing touch.

Perhaps he found peace in these moments with me because he finally had a home for his heart that the Niwas, that Daisuke even, couldn’t offer him. And I wanted to find that peace too, to feel safe in his arms, but I couldn’t just contently wear the blindfold I had forced upon myself. It hurt too much.

The happiness I initially found myself embroiled with quickly waned as my feelings grew, having come to terms with the fact that I had found myself in a fruitless relationship that I had no intention or energy to pull myself out of. All I could do was foolishly trust my heart to someone who could offer no concrete promises, subjecting myself to a flow I never had any control over. I would “enjoy” the moment before mentally berating myself for it, rinsing and repeating until…

Well, either way, unless a miracle occurred, I’d find myself broken anyway.

After that ridiculously long flight, I stumbled into the baggage claim, more than ready to collect my luggage and get some fresh Viennese air. Kosuke, despite Hiwatari and I being adults perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, fussed over us as he fixed our hair and straightened as much as he could of our wrinkled clothing.

I hobbled over to Hiwatari, struggling to keep myself upright after being immobile for far too long. “Aren’t we meeting your uncle at the airport?”

“Yes, he should be here soon.”

I yawned. “Well, he better, because I don’t know how much longer I can—”

“Satoshi! It’s been so long!”

My blood went cold.

#dnangel #satoshi hiwatari #risa harada #my writing #fanfiction #i can't believe this is 8000 words #originally it was under 8000 #but i had rewritten the Riku scene while typing it up and i just so happened to write it in such a way that the flashback worked #like honestly you'd think that this was a hard chapter to write just because of how heavy all this content is #but nooooo it's the dinner scene where satoshi is talking about his love for musicals #like i don't even #anyways onto more spoiler-y stuff #originally kei actually died from suicide #but considering that keiko loves kei i kept him alive #and it also adds more development for satoshi #and i just couldn't pass up the opportunity of writing some kosuke and kei interaction #and risa and kei interaction? expect that too #i also wasn't meaning to add that scene at the end but like...i felt guilty letting you guys think that kei was actually dead for two weeks #the vienna chapters are going to be crazy fun to write though i'm so excited #like i'm so excited for parallels and uncommon interactions and THEY'VE COME FULL CIRCLE GUYS

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theturtlebrigade-blog · 8 years ago

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*In desperate need of title* John laurens x Male!Reader

Because there aren’t enough of these, and I like the idea.

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(M/n)= Male/Masculine Name

(Favorite show)= Speaks For Itself, but your favorite show

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Word Count: 2215 words

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You couldn’t find it.

Over the past thirty minutes you’d made your way to all your classes and searched under the desks. After leaving each classroom your pace had increased, eventually becoming a full on sprint. School was thankfully over, though you’d stayed this extra time because you were missing something very important. Your diary.

Now, losing something like this definitely seems like a huge problem, especially if one were to lose it at school, but for you it was much, much more than a huge problem. It was a catastrophe. Earlier in the year you’d been an exchange student, having moved from out of state. You were originally more quiet, cold and analytical, and to help you adjust your mother had gotten you a diary.

It was a nice leather one that you kept with you all the time. During your free period you would write in it, and eventually you adjusted to your new life. The leather diary had quickly become a comfort item, a nice way to express your feelings when something too emotional happened. Like, for example, gaining a crush on one of your best friends. Fairly recently too.

So in trying to find the book, you’d double checked all your classrooms, and triple checked the library. Eventually you became frantic, panicking. And to your dismay, panicking only put more emphasis on the fact that you didn’t have your diary, as you would usually write during times like this. Eventually you retreated to the restroom, locking yourself in a stall and collapsing to the floor, sobbing.

You’d pulled your knees to your chest, burying your face in your arms. In your panicked state, you murmured to yourself, sobbing harder with each proclamation of death that fell from your mouth. You quickly quieted though, taking in harsh breaths. You heard footsteps. “(M/n)? (M/n), you still here?” A voice echoed. You gasped softly, letting out a choked sob. You soon heard the door to the restroom open, followed by a somewhat confused, “(M/n)?”

That was your friend John. John Laurens, aka one of your best friends. Otherwise known exclusively to you as the one you had a crush on. The cute, curly haired, freckled boy who’d made his way into your heart without even trying. You tried breathing in through your nose, but due to your previous sobbing, it caused a somewhat gross sniffle. You choked, eventually having to cough. “(Y/n)? Oh god, are you okay?” He asked, voice echoing through the restroom. Despite all logic, you shook your head no. You knew he couldn’t see you - or at least you hoped - so there was really no point in shaking your head.

“Hang on, I’m coming in.” He responded. Quickly, you buried your face between your arms and legs. You really, really did not want him to see you like this. You knew your face was red and tear streaked, and your nose was probably leaking snot at this point. It took about thirty seconds before you felt someone wrap their arms around you, rubbing circles into your back. You didn’t retreat from your arms, continuing to sob.

“Hey, hey. Deep breaths.” John instructed. He seemingly effortlessly pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly. You could feel his chest rise and fall against your back, and subconsciously your breathing evened to match his. After a calming five minute session, you’d been reduced from a sobbing, alone mess, to a quietly trembling, not alone mess. Despite you still being a mess, it was a drastic decrease from before.

“You ready to tell me what’s wrong?” He asked, still keeping his arms wrapped around you. You quickly shook your head, shaking more violently. “That’s alright,” He comforted, squeezing you slightly. “Want to get cleaned up?” It took you a minute, but you nodded. Slowly, you got up, John trailing behind you. You eventually made your way over to the sink, collecting some water in your hands and splashing it on your face.

You turned to get some paper towels only to see that John was handing you tissues. Murmuring a small ‘thank you’ you took them, first blowing your nose and then wiping off your face. The tissues felt much better than the rough, crinkly brown paper towels the school buys. “...W-why were you at school looking for me?” You asked, voice wavering slightly. He offered a comforting smile.

“We were supposed to hang out at my place, remember?” He reminded. You immediately felt guilty. He seemingly noticed your mood change, because he swiftly continued. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. I'm just concerned as to what happened.” That only lifted your mood slightly. Oh god, you felt immensely bad for making him worry. And the fact that he actually put out effort to find you just added on. You didn't deserve a friend like him, much less a boyfriend. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?” He quipped.

Taking in a deep somewhat shaky breath, you responded. “I lost something very, very important to me at school.” He seemed confused for a moment, so you continued. “You know that book that I have with me a lot?” His face quickly turned from one of confusion to an understanding look, covered in empathy.

“The leather bound one?” He asked. You bit your lip and nodded. “I can help you look for it! Maybe it’s in-”

“I’ve already checked all my classes, the office, my locker, and the library. All of them at least twice. I-It’s not here...and I brought it to school…” You cut him off, sighing. You really didn’t want to tell him that it was a diary. John was a naturally curious person, and if you told him, he’d probably ask what was in it. He quickly gave you a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly as if to protect you from some invisible threat.

“It’s okay, don’t worry...Maybe a teacher found it. We can ask them early tomorrow.” He prompted. You wanted to protest, you truly did, but instead you swallowed back your fear and nodded. Maybe he was right. “Alright. Want to head back to my place? We can watch (favorite show) and have ice cream if you want.” He offered. You laughed slightly, voice still hoarse from crying. You nodded once again, and the two of you set off.

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As promised, you came early the next day, much more hopeful than yesterday. Your guys night with John had really calmed you down, and had even ignited a spark of hope within you. When you’d stayed back at school, none of the librarians were there, and a majority of the teachers had left. Maybe one of them took it with them upon discovering a stray journal? At least you’d hoped so.

The first place you decided to check was the library, about twenty or so minutes before school. You made careful not to disrupt any tutors or chess club members, checking each of the tables and asking the librarian. Unfortunately she’d told you that, no, they didn’t have a leather journal, but you stayed determined. From there you checked the office, asking if anyone had turned it in, also checking the lost and found. Still, nothing.

You were starting to wonder where John was too. He’d said he’d help you, and John certainly wasn’t one to break his promises. However, John WAS one to over sleep, so you assumed that’s what happened. Your next thought was that maybe you’d left it in the cafeteria, and while it seemed illogical, the school lost and found was in two different locations. One was in the office, and the other was in the custodial closet in the cafeteria. You’d only taken three steps into the closet when you nearly gave up, staring awestruck at the unorganized pile of stray coats, gym bags, jewelry, and even book bags.

Sighing, you got to work. While you could understand why the school management wouldn’t organize the lost and found, the task being tedious and time consuming, it was still bothersome when anyone went looking for their lost personal items. Once you’d finally gotten done, you’d practically given up hope. To the extent of your knowledge john hadn’t come yet, and you felt awful. Disappointed, you started walking to your first class, hoping to check there. You hadn’t even turned into the hallway before you heard arguing.

You stopped dead in your tracks upon picking out a certain, loudly said, line. ‘I think I may have feelings for John. I don’t know when these feelings had come to develop, but it is definitely now that I actually come to realize them.’ The line. You’d written that in your diary. You felt sick and dizzy, the whole world seeming to spiral around you. What hurt more was that those lines were quickly followed by singular, uproarious laughter, but they continued. ‘I don’t know how he’d react, so I probably won't be telling him any time soon. I’d hate to lose one of my best friends that way.’

Tears swelled in your eyes. You peeked your head around the corner, only catching a short glance before violently pulling it back. Thomas, a student in your literary class. He was always looking for blackmail, seemingly always looking for backhanded ways to win an argument. And while you never stepped out of social construct that often, this would be a tremendous blow to that record. But what really broke your heart, was who else you saw.

John. John Laurens, aka, one of your best friends. Otherwise known now to Thomas, himself, and you, as your crush. For the split second you’d got to look at them, he seemed shocked. You’d slumped against the stone wall, releasing a soft whimper of mortification. That was it. You were done for. You’d just lost everything in a couple lines. Your best friends. Your diary. And now he had blackmail against you. “You have no right to have read through that! That’s not your book.” John protested.

“Oh, but I did. And I still have valid information, hand written by (M/n) himself. And what’ve you got?” Thomas sneered back. You waited silently around the corner, waiting for whatever response John was going to throw back. Suddenly, a sharp smacking sound erupted from the hallway, along with the clanging of the metal lockers and a few groans of pain.

“Well let’s see, I have (M/n)’s journal, enough strength to kick your ass apparently, and an awesome boyfriend once I find him.” John responded bitterly. You gasped slightly, a tear or two slipping down your face. He really meant that…? A small, giddy smile grew on your face before you could stop it, and confidence practically flooded through your veins. You stood and turned the corner, smiling eagerly.

“John!” You cheered, smiling widely. He turned, looking at you, shocked. His face quickly changed from shocked to a cute, excited grin as he ran towards you. Once again, he wrapped you in a protective hug, of which you gladly accepted He pulled his head away for only half a second before he pulled you into a kiss. You let out a small noise of pure joy, quickly melting into the kiss. When you eventually pulled away, you hugged him tightly, voice shaking slightly. “You have no idea how nervous I was! I-I came early, and was just about to check homeroom when I heard him say- and oh god, you are the best!” You exclaimed.

He smiled, seeming just about as excited and happy as you. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this to happen! Well, maybe not exactly like this, but you are just too cute, and it was so hard not to tell you.” He replied, kissing your cheek as you laughed, blushing. A pained groan brought you two back, as you pulled away slightly to look at Thomas. “And You.” John sneered, definitely pissed. Thomas had a somewhat bright mark oh his face, and was sitting up against the lockers. “You are not going to have any blackmail evidence against us by first period, do you hear me? And so help me god, if you try to hurt (M/n) again, I will personally beat your ass. Got it?”

Reluctantly, Thomas nodded. John turned back to you, smiling contently. “You alright with telling the school?” He asked. Without missing a beat, you answered.

“As long as I’m with you, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

‘X/XX/XX

I finally found my diary today. Well, I suppose I wasn’t departed with it for TOO long, but it was still a terrifying experience. I had a panic attack yesterday, and thankfully John was there to help. We went back to his house and watched (favorite show) and had ice cream. Speaking of John, due to me actually losing my diary, we started dating! Thomas had started reciting my diary, and I was extremely scared. I almost launched into another panic attack, until I heard him beating Thomas up. He then said he liked me back, which as much as it was a shocker, was amazing. Dear christ, I sound like a thirteen year old dweeb, but it had to be the most joyous moment of my life up until now. Oh-------

Heh, sorry ‘bout that. Love you bae! ~ John’

#hamilton #hamiltrash #hamilton x reader #john laurens #john laurens x reader #john laurens x male reader #fanfiction

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spynotebook · 7 years ago

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Ready for the return of the epic old-school recaps? Us too! We've started a crowdfunding campaign to make it happen. Visit the campaign page for The Return Of The Epic Old-School Recaps.

Guys! I actually can't wait to dig into this Law & Order: SVU season premiere in recap form! Over the last few seasons, the show has increasingly suffered from "especially heinous" writing and silent-movie acting, with the result that it's now a hate-watch for this correspondent -- but, to lean on another reference to the aughts here, I just can't quit it.

[fires warning shot of compressed air under caps-lock key] Aight, let's get this over with so we can get back to marinating in quality episodes from the past on USA Network, shall we? Chung chung!

Fade up on what I can only classify as proof that NBC is trying to penny-pinch SVU to death. You know in high-school productions of, like, South Pacific when a scene supposedly takes place on a beach, and the "sea" is two rows of blue oaktag cut into scallop shapes, with one of the theater kids who can't sing in the wings on each side, shoving them back and forth and seething because Mr. Ellroy SAID the spring play was Noises Off?

Welcome to the network equivalent, although a chyron is valiantly pretending it's "Havana, Cuba" and not a cramped corner of a Silvercup soundstage. When Will "Luke Wheeler" Chase appears with his pretty lady friend and adorable moppet, I almost expected him to have a plywood-and-suspenders "boat" on. He does not. Nor does he break into "Younger Than Springtime"; he merely bids his (we assume) little family adios and strolls off down the "cobblestone" "street."

Cut to another, verifiable street in the 212, where Lt. Olivia Benson and Noah are heading towards a corner, and Noah is whining about…well, I can't make it out over the loud whooshing sound generated by his Soap Opera Rapid Aging Syndrome. Unless that's the sound of that vein in my forehead swelling with rage-stroke blood because oh my God when is SVU going to stop with the Noah In Peril storylines -- NO! ONE! CARES! This is a police PROCEDURAL! Please proceed…TO NEVER SHOW NOAH AGAIN! …Why do I bother. As long as MarHar Superstar is an executive producer, I have better odds of Santa finally coming through with that pony than I do of getting anyone to listen to me on the Noah tip. More on why I find the child's storylines so terribly tiresome in a moment; first, let me note that, when last seen, Noah was a toddler with straight dark brown hair and brown eyes. This Noah is twice the height -- I'd guess the actor's age at seven, minimum -- and has light brown curly hair. I just…what?

At least he's also wearing black Chuck Taylors, my own Converse of choice, but before I can sew a cool-parenting badge on Liv's sash, Liv chooses to respond to Noah's whingy "I don't wanna go!" with an overly cheery "School is fun, right?" I just don't understand why the writers do this to Mariska Hargitay, I really don't -- or why she lets them, when she has kids of her own and should know that this fakey, hesitant dialogue she's always saddled with in her scenes with Noah is not how parents speak to their children. I don't have kids, so boulder of salt, of course, but I know parents, I had parents, and this is how people who don't know how to talk to kids, or who just met a kid five minutes ago, talk to kids. Exhibit B: Noah monotones that Lucy, his nanny, wouldn't make him go, and he wishes she were his mommy. Liv:

I mean, first of all, the fuck she wouldn't; Liv is always calling Lucy at all goddamn hours to get childcare coverage because God forbid she delegate anything to Fin, plus working for this stupid family has gotten Lucy shot at, menaced by William Lewis, and I've forgotten what all else, so there is no damn way she's letting Noah horn in on her cigarettes-and-crossword time when she can drop him at school instead. Second of all, and to my point above: toughen up, Liv. It's not your first day. Kids say bratty stuff. Get over it. But no, she's got to whip off her aviators and cry-voice, "What did you say?" This is where I start giggling because I'm remembering the time, SINGULAR, I observed that I would like to go live with my grandmother, who was a lot more permissive about things like sugar cereal and…most of the other things, because grandmothers, and my mother said, "What did you say?" and because I didn't want to get kicked to death, I chirped, "Nothing!" and ran off to do a loathed chore unprompted.

Alas, it is not Barb who is in charge here, but Liv The Helicopter Friend-Mom, so Noah reads off a cue card that is very obviously positioned 140 degrees away from where Liv is kneeling that he wishes Lucy were his mommy. Liv physically flinches, but pulls it together to quaver that it looks like he's stuck with her. She takes his hand and they continue on down the street, but at the corner, she gets a call and lets go of Noah to answer it. The signal changes from don't-walk hand to walk figure, and Ryan Buggle rather too carefully proceeds towards his mark in the crosswalk, and nearly gets grease-spotted by a taxi. Liv shrieks, "NOAH!" and grabs him out of harm's way as the cab -- and all the rest of the traffic on that avenue, like, is the light red for them or not? -- careens past, and then the ADR kicks in with a bleaty "Mom-meeee" that sounds like a kitten, so how old is Noah supposed to be, seriously?

Liv clutches him and repeats that he's okay about 150 times, and if she reams him for going ahead into the street without a grownup and/or scaring the shit out of her, we don't see it, because Liv is a saint who would never raise her voice to her child. I get that seeing the quotidian discipline and negotiations of child-rearing isn't necessarily great TV, but there's a simple solution to that problem in a cop show, to wit: refer to Noah without showing him onscreen. If you must incorporate him into filmed material, write Liv like an actual parent and not a weekend-dad kiss-ass.

Cuba Luke finishes an espresso, then gets kidnapped off the street and hurled into an ancient VW bus by two burly guys. In the back of the van, he's cuffed, then greeted by Fin: "Buenos dias, pendejo." You can say that word in network primetime now?

Hey, I wasn't complaining!

Cop shop. Liv gets another call, this one from Noah's school; apparently he's got some worrisome bruises, and after asking if he's in any pain, Liv theorizes that "maybe it was another student" and "maybe he just fell." Jesus H. Gambino, writers. Has any of you ever even met a little boy? I don't think my brother took a school photo without some kind of contact injury on his face until he was 12. There's no way a New York City school is going to call a parent who is a New York City cop over minor bruising, and there's no way said cop parent isn't going to be like, "Kids bang into shit, don't call me at work unless he's bleeding," and hang up. I mean, am I the crazy one here? Fortunately for us all, Liv is distracted by the entrance of Fin, styling a pair of black shorts and a little Panama hat, and his prisoner. Carisi and Rollins exposit that Willuke, who is going by "Byron Marks" here, raped three women "that [they] know about," then split before they could arrest him. Byron, unconcerned, greets Liv with "Detective Benson. How are you?" "A lot better now," Liv smugs, and I expect her to issue a snotty "and it's 'Lieutenant'" but she doesn't, just adds, "I hope?" by way of confirming with Fin that he took Byron into custody by the book. Fin claims he did.

In an interrogation room, Byron blah-blahs smarmily about the Cuban people. Rollins and Carisi are humorlessly offended by his bonhomie, to the show's customarily non-credible-for-veteran-police degree. Enter Liv; Byron twinkles that he missed her, calling her "Detective" again, and this time she does snap that she's a lieutenant, and if he missed her, maybe he shouldn't have run. He notes that, when "wanderlust strikes," a man has no choice, and blathers on about the verbal sparring, the "heave and ho" he so enjoys; even Liv's assertion that his DNA came up a match to all three victims doesn't affect his sunny attitude, so she leans down into his face to PSA that he ruined the lives of "three! innocent! human beings!" At that, Byron joins the rest of us in having had it, blaring, "And I suppose your sanctimonious crap fills their days with sunshine, and light!" I don't care to be siding with the perp here, but the writing has left me little choice, so: seeeeriously. Byron then bets that he can guilt Liv for not following up with the survivors forever, and snots that, after a couple of years, she stopped sending them Christmas cards because she got busy with conferences and co-op meetings -- but it's cool, because another victim will come along soon enough to let Liv pour out "that goopy stuff" overflowing her heart. Burn. Doesn't seem like he struck a nerve there, as Liv shrugs, "You done?" and suggests he confess and save them all some time, since they've got him cold. Byron's like, nah: lawyer. Rollins: "What happened to the old heave and ho?" Hee. Credits.

Barba's in the house, and he's skeptical of whether they can stick the landing, given the statute of limitations. When Fin's pressed this time re: whether the arrest was lawful, his answer is a dodgier "I thought we were all on the same team!" Encouraging! For now, we're briefed on Byron's m.o.: meet prospective victims at farmers' markets, carry their bags, then threaten to cut off their breasts "if they didn't 'enjoy their afternoon.'" Barba's like, yikes, then asks how the arrest went down. Fin's story is that he was on vacay in Cuba, saw Byron, tipped the local authorities, and pinched Byron without incident. Barba doesn't buy it,

but when Liv backs Fin's play, Barba tells them to "arraign the bastard." He leaves. Liv cuts Fin a "you better not fuck me up with this" side-eye.

At the apartment of Joyce Peterson, Carisi and Rollins inform her of Byron's capture. Joyce is visibly depressed and suffering from PTSD, but when she fails to evince a sufficiently gratifying reaction to the news, Rollins duhs at her that Byron "raped you at knifepoint," like, I think she knows. Joyce mumbles that nobody cares about her, including NYPD; that's why it took them six years to crack the case. Rollins protests that they never stopped looking for Byron. Carisi tells Joyce, albeit reluctantly, that they can subpoena her, but Rollins interrupts to thank Joyce and say they'll be going.

A playground. Keesha Johnson and Rollins watch Keesha's son shoot hoops. Keesha shrugs that she can't blame her son's dad for running off; who would want to be with a victim of sexual assault? Rollins reminds her that it was in fact assault. Keesha says that's what the doctor at the ER said, and Liv, but those are just words. "Things are good for" Keesha now, finally, so she's not going to testify.

Carisi bitches that they've finally caught "this prick" and now the victims won't take the stand. Rollins notes that Byron was one of her first SVU cases (NB: it was offscreen; we've not seen him before) and talks about his very real charm, and how she could have been "one of those women." Carisi joins me in giving her a "…k" look.

Karla Wyatt answers the door to Carisi and Rollins with, "Please don't tell me he's dead." Karla is played by Amy Smart, whom I've always liked and thought should have gotten more famous than she did. It's not like she vanished; she works, but she has star quality, and didn't turn into a star. Until recently, I guess I chalked it up to bad script choices or "just one of those things," but now I have to assume she got Weinsteined some kind of way. Anyway, here she's got a significant scar on her face, and a Jabba of a husband whose response to Karla's excited report that "they caught the bastard" who raped her is, and I quote, "whoop dee doo." He goes back to watching bowling -- okay, we get it -- but perks up, and not in a good way, when he hears that Karla has to testify. Carisi's like, it's not your choice, but Frank's like, she's my wife so it is too: "Like I'm gonna let her embarrass us in front of Mikey and Joe and the guys?" Yeah, we get it. Karla cringes, possibly because her living room just turned into a social-hygiene film about the stigma of sexual violence, as Frank goes on that the other victims can shoulder the burden of court. "Actually, Karla's all we've got," Carisi grunts. Frank's like, so "those other girls" have their heads on straight. Karla sighs that "Frank knows what's right"; Rollins's attempt to argue that testifying could bring Karla closure goes nowhere. Despite six years on the job in New York City alone, Rollins has apparently never been confronted with a reluctant witness or family member.

Back at the cop shop, Liv tries to de-Amish the proceedings by noting that the Wyatts' balking is "upsetting, but not surprising." Liv is wearing a pale-peach version of what is evidently her blouse of the season -- you know, for a couple seasons it was a lightweight v-neck sweater over a cami; another season, it was that gauzy floral under the v-neck?

Lately it's this tenty notch-neck affair. Not the most flattering, IMO. Anyway, Fin suggests using grand-jury testimony from six years ago, but Liv wearies that it's inadmissible hearsay; she'll let the Wyatts mull it over for a day or two and take another run at them herself. Fin doubts that's going to work. Liv snarks that she's sorry he ruined his own vacation, then, and he shrugs that he can only do so much fishing. Liv calls him aside and asks if he's still sticking with the coincidence story. No reason to change it now, Fin says. Hee. Liv is getting heated about how unlikely it is that, with the FBI and the Marshals looking for the guy, Fin's the one who happens to stumble over Byron in Havana. "I'd rather be lucky than good," Fin says, but Liv won't leave it alone. She's shocked Byron didn't put up a fight. Fin should know better than to admit that he "may-a had a little help," but admit it he does, and adds that it's better Liv not ask from whom. This gets a full-head eye-roll from Liv, but Fin is saved from a deeply hypocritical lecture by Liv spotting Karla at the precinct desk. She's going to testify, "screw" Frank. Liv and Fin exchange "…huh" looks, but because it goes on for like 45 minutes into the act-out, it's more like "…h…uhhhhhh…hhhhhhh."

Byron's arraignment, at which he's represented, scruffily, by Randolph J. "Taub From House" Dworkin. Dworkin takes issue with every single person in the state of New York arraying themselves "versus" his client, at length, and when Barba tells him to get new material and asks for remand, Dworkin objects not just to that but to "this entire proceeding," and asks for ROR. Judge Peck is like, "ha? defendant is remanded," as Fin slinks out the back. We're not the only ones who noticed that, as Barba catches up to him outside and asks since when he attends arraignments. Ain't you watched the show lately, Rafa? The whole squad is in court for everything, because nobody else gets assaulted until the current case is discharged. Keep up. Fin does not say this, just claims he wanted to make sure it stuck this time, and what's up with "that clown show" Dworkin? Barba would kind of like an answer to that himself, as Dworkin's usual bailiwick is federal court.

Oh, brother. So Liv is trying to back Noah's teacher, Mrs. Smiley (snerk), off with the "he's a kid" explanation for Noah's bruising. While I try to triangulate an explanation of Noah's current age based on the "Kindergarten, Here We Come!" signage in the room, Mrs. Smiley explains that the nurse interviewed Noah about the bruises, and Noah said Liv gave them to him. Liv does her now-patented Starman head cock and says she finds that hard to believe.

Exactly. Mrs. Smiley observes pointedly that Liv's job sounds very stressful. Liv doesn't see what that has to do "with anything," obliging Mrs. Smiley to explain to a veteran police officer who heads up a unit devoted to sexual and domestic assault that stress can cause people to act out physically. So Liv…acts out physically, rolling her eyes and grimacing and pacing and literally clutching her forehead.

When Mrs. Smiley isn't having her histrionics, Liv fumes that this is all a big misunderstanding. Mrs. Smiley's like, riiiight. Then she asks about Noah's father, which doesn't strike me as relevant or appropriate; Liv is incensed, but confines herself to gritting that "he is deceased." Mrs. Smiley is sorry to hear that. She says Noah seems to like Lucy a lot. "She's his nanny, what's not to like," Liv cry-voices bitterly.

Mrs. Smiley 2020. Liv begs her not to go where Liv thinks she's going "with this," and repeats desperately that it's all a huge miscommunication. Mrs. Smiley is sure Liv's right. (Ron Howard: "She isn't.") She just "had to see it for [her]self." What does that even mean? If you think Liv is harming Noah, the hell good does a parent-teacher conference do? You're a mandated reporter, no? File the report. On another show, preferably, because I could not care less about Noah if I were in a coma. Liv has also had it with this scene, because she stalks off.

Cop shop. Liv is sloshing coffee everywhere. Rollins is like, maybe enough caffeine?, and asks if Liv needs an ear. Liv brushes her off, but Rollins asks again if she's okay, like, she's your boss so maybe leave it out. Alas, Liv only needs one follow-up question to start sharing, like, she's your employee so maybe leave it o-- ugh, forget it. She tells Rollins she got called into the school about "this mysterious bruise on Noah's arm," which, now that I think about it, should really not be all that puzzling since Liv commented in the previous scene devoted to this POS subplot that she thought she'd cleared "all that" up "yesterday" -- meaning she got the initial call about the bruise yesterday, then presumably picked Noah up from school, or at least saw him after she got home, and could have questioned him about the bruise or even merely looked at/for it when she was getting him ready for bed. But no, by acting like they don't live together or that Noah chills at home in a hazmat suit, the writing can amp up the threat to Liv's little family by making the bruise "mysterious." Rollins NBDs that he probably fell off the swings; that's what Liv thought, but Noah told the nurse "a different story." Rollins is gobsmacked by the idea anyone would think Liv hurt Noah. Liv doesn't know "if he's mad, if he's acting out…" You don't know if your kid is mad? Whom you live with? I fucking can't, people! Learn how humans who live together act, writers' room! And by the way, The Horror At The Corner occurred a fucking day ago; would not a veteran investigator DETECT that perhaps it's whipping the ankle-biter out of the crosswalk like a giant yo-yo that caused the bruising?

Giphy

Liv whispers that she just kept thinking while Mrs. Smiley was quizzing her, "I'm the one who asks the questions." Rollins reassures her that she's a good mom, and "if anyone says different, they'll have to answer to" Rollins. Because who's a better character witness than Amarofucker McGamblingdebts over here. ...Okay, that second bit is unfair, but I stand by the first part. Shut up, Amaro. Barba stomps in just then looking for Fin, because Dworkin has filed a motion to dismiss the charges, claiming Fin kidnapped Byron.

Hee. "What if he did?" Liv grunts, not caring as much about managing her staff as she probably could. "We're screwed," Barba says. Liv looks around and chews her lip for a week before someone finally says "cut."

Motion hearing. Dworkin asserts that Fin "invaded a sovereign country" and grabbed Byron up. Barba counters that Byron is a serial rapist. Dworkin rants that that isn't a fact until a jury says so. Great, Barba says, a trial is what we want. The Honorable Johnny Sack looks disgusted with both of them as Dworkin continues that, had Fin pulled this shit even in Jersey, the arrest would be thrown out. Judge Sack asks if Dworkin wants to put Fin on trial. Dworkin says this court doesn't have jurisdiction in the first place. Barba and Dworkin joust with precedents for a while before Sack announces he'll hear arguments tomorrow.

Fin, Barba, and Liv sulk in Liv's office. Fin swears he didn't torture Byron, so the case Dworkin cited to kibosh the arrest isn't relevant. Barba hopes Fin can make that case from the stand. Fin: "I'm a credible guy!" Ringtone! Fin can't believe it doesn't matter that the arrest was in a grey area; neither can Barba, actually. He leaves, and Liv clocks him for not looping her in. Fin can live with some "mud" on his face if it means he caught Byron, but Liv can't; she intenses that, as long as she's in charge, "we do things the right way -- the legal way!" [eye-roll] Okay, Atticus. Fin's over it as well and snarks that she wanted Byron as bad as he did. She stares moodily out into the squadroom and says they fucked up not arresting Byron fast enough the first time. Fin shoots her a "well…yeah" look. She announces that she has to go home and teach her son -- pointed stare at Fin as she grabs her keys -- "that lying is a bad thing." Fin pulls a "good luck with that" face that is probably not how Ice-T was directed, but is quite amusing, because shut up, Liv.

Oh "goody," we "get to" see the aforementioned lesson. Liv is helping Noah on with a supes cute pair of octopus pajamas. Examining an adult-hand-shaped bruise corresponding to where she would have pulled him out of traffic, she asks if it hurts. It doesn't. Liv lets him know that she talked to Mrs. Smiley, and what she said the nurse said. "She asked!" Noah shrugs. Liv's like, we talked about telling the truth, remember? Noah did tell the truth: she gave him the bruise when the taxi almost clipped him.

My tax dollars at work, ladies and germs. Liv forgot! She's so sorry! Big hugs, and a reminder to tell the whole story when he tells the truth! Rueful violins are rueful, because even though Liv is doing a great job picking out cute sheets for Noah's bed, the violins have watched TV before, and this is not over!

Motion hearing. Dworkin examines Byron, and notes upon learning that Byron's job is English tutoring, "That's admirable." Barba objects without looking up from his legal pad. Hee. Judge Sack sustains it. We learn that Mrs. Byron and the Byronlet are Cuban, not American citizens, before Byron testifies that two guys grabbed him and threw him in the van, Fin cuffed him, they "drove…someplace," and he was left in the back for four hours. Here then is the torture claim, as it was over 100 degrees that day. Hearing this, Barba chews the inside of his cheek.

Fin's turn on the stand. He walks Barba and us through tracking Byron down: Byron is a big jazz fan (pfft, figures) (don't @ me), and in particular a fan of a guy named Walter Smith. Fin checked Smith's website periodically to see if Byron might have commented, and when a "B from Havana" compared Smith to Coltrane, Fin thought he might have his guy. So, he went down there, he put Byron in a van, and he convinced the local cops that he was legit and Byron was a bad actor. But he didn't torture Byron. Dworkin begs to differ, confirming with Fin that if he found a dog in a hot car he would have to arrest the owner for animal cruelty. Fin's like, I checked every now and then, and Byron never asked to get out. "Could be because he was unconscious," Dworkin says. Fin glares.

Judge Sack rules that, while he doesn't approve of Fin's tactics, they don't descend to the level of torture, and the trial will proceed. Not so fast, says Dworkin, and introduces a Mr. Formosa, a representative of the Cuban government who objects to his country's borders and laws being violated. Now it's Barba's turn to glare. Dworkin tries to tell Judge Sack he's not competent to hear a political question such as this, but Sack thinks he can deal after he eats some lunch.

And now, to lose my own lunch as Karla stomps into Liv's office to complain about the handling of the case and that the cops don't care. Liv's like, that's not exactly what's up here, which is true, and then Karla is obliged to whine, "You told me closure's a good thing, that it helps in the healing process!" They sit on Liv's Empathy Office Couch so Liv can cheerlead that Karla hasn't let the attack stop her. Karla is not a hundred that her having gotten married is evidence of her indomitable spirit (cosigned), and shovels an exposition pass about politicians deciding whether Byron gets justice in Liv's direction. Liv dunks it: for Cuba to "have standing," they have to show harm to one of its citizens, in this case Mrs. Byron, who's set to testify tomorrow. If Karla doesn't also testify, well… Told that they need her to keep the case alive, Karla's like, maybe Frank's not so dumb after all, and stalks out. Wait so but isn't she upset that the case might not go to trial? And given that it's not the cops' apathy that's endangering it, but rather a presentation of related factors which she could directly influence by taking the stand, why is Karla against participating now? The show could conceivably be taking the position that a survivor's attitude towards testifying can be changeable and/or illogical, but this doesn't feel purposeful. It feels like this part of the script never got past a first draft because everyone's focus was on this dumb wiener Noah B-plot.

Mrs. Byron testifies breathlessly that she met Byron when he came into her store. They went to lunch every day "for weeks" -- during which time, it's implied, he didn't try to rape her -- and fell in love and got married. She wails directly to Barba that it's wrong what Fin did. If Byron doesn't come back, the Byronlet, Teresa, will be destroyed. Dworkin stretches his legs after the guilt trip with a motion to release Byron ROR. Barba leaps to his feet while Dworkin needles him about only charging Byron with one count of rape instead of three, and maybe Karla's testimony isn't so solid either, hmmmmm -- and by the way, if the court isn't "competent" to adjudicate this case, it's not competent to hold Byron, either. Not sure how that argument works if you're going ahead and calling witnesses in a proceeding you don't acknowledge the validity of, but in any case, Judge Sack releases Byron to Dworkin's custody with a stern warning that they both better show up the next day. The Byrons hug.

On the courthouse steps, Barba grumbles that he wants Byron followed. He's not keen on letting Fin of all people do it, but allows it until someone else can take over, and bitterly bets that the Byrons will be en route back to Cuba by the next day.

What looks like a JFK terminal too fancy for me to have set foot in. Rollins tails the Byrons and Dworkin. She loses them, but Carisi picks up the trio. Later, Carisi explains how Fin violated international law as he and Rollins watch their tailees eating at a diner. Byron gets up to use the head, and Rollins tries to keep an eye on him while Carisi is still banging on about Raúl Castro sending a federale to kidnap Fin. Rollins is peering around Carisi's noggin and grousing that she gets it, he went to law school. After about 12 seconds they decide Byron's taking too long, and head in to check on him. Dworkin brays, "This is harassment!" It's going to get way worse if Byron isn't back there struggling with his dairy intake, Rollins tells him (sort of), and sure enough, a search of the crapper and the diner's storeroom makes it clear Byron has bolted.

Cop shop. Fin's alerted all the area airports, but Byron can't leave the country because he doesn't have his passport…so where did he go? Liv gets that liquid-bowels look and calls Karla, begging her to pick up. Then she dashes out. Um, delegating?

…HA HA HA HA, because why keep it frosty in your office like our queen Anita Van Buren when you can go out in the field without backup instead and REALLY put your foot in it? Liv charges up the front walk of Chez Wyatt, gun drawn, yelling for Karla. The front door is open. Liv has her gun sighted, but has learned nothing from the home invasion she blundered into a couple seasons back, or from doing this for 20 years, because she fails to clear the doorway, doesn't have a vest on, etc. She finds Byron seated tensely on the couch, and Karla pointing a revolver at him. She tells Liv to go away. Smiley/Karla 2020. Karla knows Liv can't do that, so can she put the gun down? Byron eye-rolls, "Women," and I don't want to laugh, but that line reading is aces. Less so Amy Smart's screechy choice on "You think this is FUNNAYY?!", which gave the line a weird top note of Real World Tami that doesn't work so well. Liv doesn't want to see Karla go to prison, but what does Liv think Karla's been living in the last six years? She sees the scar every time she brushes her teeth, brushes her hair…Byron babbles that he didn't come there to hurt her, he just wanted to explain about his family and ask her not to testify. Karla's like, GTFOH with that. Liv then goes with a "point the gun at me" approach, and I kind of want to see her get shot somewhere non-fatal like in the ass to teach her a lesson, but girlfriend never learns so let's just get on with this.

The ploy fails. Karla orders Byron onto his feet and shrieks at him about having made her beg him to cut her face. Now she wants him to beg. Byron is frozen, so Karla orders him to his knees or she'll kill him. Liv undermines her with, "No, you won't," like, shoot her in the kneecap or shut up, but you're not helping. Karla and Liv then get in a spat, basically, over whether Karla's capable of shooting Byron and how Liv can't leave her alone with Byron because blah blah blah honor-cakes, and it looks like Byron is thinking that he can make a break for it while these two dummies debate the concept of closure, but in the end he decides not to risk it, and kneels. "Now. I want you to beg me to shoot you." Karla presses the muzzle to his temple. Liv, who in this shot is standing not eight inches from Karla, keeps fruitlessly pointing her own gun at Karla's…belt? and reminding Karla she'll have to arrest Karla if she "do[es] this." Just arrest her now, fool! She's right next to you! Byron begs. Karla isn't satisfied: "You call that begging?!" She cocks the hammer, then begins to decompensate, wailing about the contents of her farmers'-market bag and Byron taking her life away. Liv murmurs platitudes about the pain returning when Karla is behind bars, but at least she's putting up her own gun and making like she's going to grab Karla's arm, finally. Liv says she's just going to take the gun, but a weeping Karla resists, and as Liv is wrenching it away, it fires into the ceiling. Liv orders him onto the ground at the point of Karla's gun, and cuffs him. "You're okay," Liv pants, but a sobbing Karla very much is not.

Cop shop. Liv hurls her blazer at a coat rack, where it lands on a hook perfectly straight. Got it in one! Nice. Barba hopes Karla thought Byron was going to assault her, presumably so he won't have to charge her, but Liv doesn't think so; nor does she think Byron broke in. She's going to take Karla's statement "in the morning" while Byron cools his heels in a holding pen overnight for tampering with a witness. Karla's not there now? I sympathize with her, but: menacing? illegal discharge of a weapon? Liv sighs that this way they can guarantee Byron shows up for court tomorrow. "If only to file false imprisonment charges," Barba sighs back, like, thank you, as I said I stand with Karla but she didn't not do anything. Barba says maybe Liv should just have let Karla shoot Byron. Liv snorts. Barba has to point out that he was joking. After a moment, Liv cry-voices, "I told her to point a loaded gun at me." Barba makes a face like "Livs gonna Liv," and Liv says, "I have a kid, Rafael. What was I thinking?" Not paraphrasing; that's the line. Barba doesn't know what to say to it either, so he pats her on the shoulder and murmurs, "Anyway." Pretty much, yeah. As he's leaving, Liv wonders if there's any way to convince a judge this isn't a political matter. Barba's like, after poor widdle Mrs. Byron cried on the stand about having her hubby taken away? Unlikely. Liv stomps off to take Karla's statement.

Said statement goes into detail about the rape -- Karla remembering trying to get through it by counting crumbs from her breakfast toast is quite affecting -- and is taken in the presence of Mrs. Byron, Dworkin, and Formosa. No idea how that's supposed to be binding, what the timeline is, whether Karla consented to putting this on Front Street for Mr. Formosa...I assume they're flooring it in the A-plot because Bruisegate ate so much runtime, but let's just go with it. Mrs. Byron is crying; Dworkin complains that this is completely out of line (amen). Liv tells him he can leave if he doesn't want to hear it. Mrs. Byron can't believe it was Byron, but Karla presses on with her story. Prompted by Liv, Karla sobs that, when Byron was done, he let her drop to the ground, then urinated on her. Dworkin starts to herd Mrs. Byron out of the room, but Liv notes that they have Byron's DNA, so they know he's done the same thing to at least two other women. Liv then works the kid angle, talking about how Noah insisted on bringing Teddy to school so he wouldn't get scared at home alone. (Fine, that's cute.) Teresa, the Byronlet, used her allowance to buy her doll a dress so she'd look pretty at Teresa's birthday. Dworkin can see the effect this is having, but Liv talks over him to ask Mrs. Byron if she really wants a rapist raising her daughter. Dworkin's like, aaaaand scene, but now Mrs. Byron wants to know what happens if she changes her mind and her story. Liv says that's fine: "All you have to do, is tell the truth." Barba asks Formosa in Spanish what the Cuban government's play is. Formosa basically says they'll stand aside if Mrs. Byron changes her testimony. Is Byron going to jail? Liv assures Mrs. Byron that her soon-to-be-ex is going to pay. Mrs. Byron wants to go home. Formosa will put her on a plane. They leave. All better! ...Yeah, I know, but again, just going with it here. Dworkin knows he's beat and asks if Barba is willing to talk. "As long as he does double digits…and the first one is two," Barba says smugly.

Everyone else shuffles out, and of course Karla has to thank Liv, although Liv says that was "all you, Karla." Karla half-jokingly asks when the closure kicks in. Liv takes her hands: "You're gonna be good. That I can promise you." You…can? Because picking up trash as part of your gun-charge probation is cl…eansing? This show, ffs.

…THIS SHOW, FFS. Okay, so Liv is fun-mom sing-songing "Who wants ice creaaaam?" to Noah and teasing him about how he ate all the strawberry ice cream AND finished the chocolate syrup too, like they're roommates and he was supposed to put it on the list or something, idek. There's a knock at the door, because Liv lives in the Felicity dorm where you can just walk into the building, no doorman, no buzzer. She does check the peephole, for once, and given who's on the other side of the door,

I suppose you could fanwank it, since they were basically living together a few years ago and he could still have a key, or have badged her doorman, but it seriously happens all the time on the show and I simply cannot accept that a longtime SVU detective who has been stalked her own self would be this blithe about home security, especially not when she has a kid now. She gets doorstepped by Brooke Shields in the next episode, no? Writers: buzzer. Videophone. Something.

Anyway, Cassidy is still foine, and flirty about Liv owing him a cup of coffee. She allows as how it's not a great time, but doesn't invite him in, choosing to make chitchat in the doorway about Cassidy's moving to Florida, and this is totally me projecting because I own three cats but Liv just standing there with the door open is giving me agita. Invite the man in already, jeez -- especially since the rambling story he's telling about deciding retirement isn't for him and moving back to Gotham to take an investigator gig in the DA's office is taking kiiiind of a long time to get to any kind of point. As I'm wondering why he didn't bring his old partner Munch with him since he's also on DA-investigator detail, and whether Belzer passed on coming back or what, Cassidy edges up to why he's really there, saying he caught a child-abuse case. SVU had to recuse themselves, he says. "That's odd," Liv says, because apparently giving Karla purpose and meaning caused a selective amnesia concerning Bruisegate in The Best Detective Ever. Cassidy's like, sooooo it's not really that odd because we're investigating you. Liv gawps at him for what feels like a month, no doubt groping for something, anything to say in the face of the utter pointlessness and inanity that is this plot twist. Cassidy comes to tell her? Not a social worker or Child Services, or IAB? Not a cop from another precinct? Not Peter Gallagher's left eyebrow? And…now they come? Over a single bruise that she can credibly explain, and presumably did already? And seriously, truly, find me someone who cares in the first damn place. YOU CAN'T. NO ONE CARES. NO ONE! NOT ONE PERSON!

CREDITS! …God.

Dear Lord in heaven, how I love to hate this 25-car pile-up of a show. Thanks so much for coming on this journey with me, and for supporting us in our quest to return to old-school epic recaps. (I dare y'all to force me to recap the Vixy Platinum episode somehow. Hee.)

Cragen 4eva, Sars

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