He’s trying his absolute best to remind himself why he’s so in love with Hinata, he keeps listing all the good qualities he’s ever seen in him while he looks around- barely hiding his annoyance. Let’s see, he’s funny, he’s reliable, he gets him like no one else, he’s an amazing volleyball player with great determination, he’s crazy hot- where the fuck is he.
Tooru’s blood is boiling, he’s been in love with that little fucker since they met in that beach in Rio 2 years ago, and just now, with the reality of him going back to Japan dawning on him he’s mustered the courage to make a move. He really thought he was being smooth with it, he had pictured the scene a dozen times. Him, looking all suave and cool, having waited until New Year’s Eve to kiss Shoyo at midnight and tell him how he really felt.
The reality is comically different, Shoyo had shoved his champagne flute in Tooru’s hand like ten minutes ago and taken off to take a piss. Ten minutes was definitely too long for someone to pee, and Tooru’s teammate’s party wasn’t big enough for there to be any lines at the bathroom. He accepted reality, Shoyo had probably bumped into someone he had no business knowing- they were in Argentina, how did he know more people than Tooru did?. He’s probably talking that someone’s ear off right now. Tooru looks at the clock on the wall, 11:58 PM. Great. Amazing. Cool.
He’s debating whether to go out looking for Shoyo or not. He’s stupid enough to just let midnight pass by without even realizing, so maybe he should, but if he moves and Shoyo comes back to where they were they will definitely not find each other before 12. He ultimately decides to just stay put and hope for him to come back. He watches as the hands of the clock move and eventually everyone around him starts excitedly screaming a countdown. When they reach the end the room erupts in congratulatory screaming and cheering and Tooru bitterly drinks out of his flute.
It’s then, and only then, that he can make out a wild head of bright orange hair quickly making his way toward him through the crowd. He sees Shoyo, in all his badly ironed suit glory, basically sprinting in his direction and he’s somehow more angry. Why is he running now? Why did he look so good? Why couldn’t Tooru have fallen for someone less irritating?
“You’re literally the worst. I had to stand here with two flutes looking like an aba-” His complaining is cut short when Shoyo basically crashes into him, knocking all the champagne out of the flutes as their lips connect. Shoyo’s warm and rough hands are holding both sides of Tooru’s face and the frustration evaporates off him. They part and he just looks at Shoyo in shock, waiting for some kind of explanation.
“I can’t believe I messed this up! I had it all planned in my head I was going to be all cool- but I’ve been holding my pee all night and I really had to go, and then I bumped into Javier and he was showing pictures of his kids- it’s like, so rude to tell him to stop telling me about his kids… you know?”
“You’re so annoying” Tooru says and leans in again to kiss him again, they have two years of lost time to make up for.
This draft of a rengoku x reader fic i wrote has been sitting in my drafts since march 2022. And it will stay that way until i find the bravery to post it….
I just have so many thoughts on NYC era Jancy going to times square just once. And them being absolutely trashed and Jonathan is trying his best to hold up Nancy but he's just as drunk. Eventually he just carries her home. And when they finally remember who has the keys they make a disaster of the apartment by discarding shoes and coats. Somehow they stumble into the kitchen to eat leftovers. Maybe they put on music and decide dancing in the kitchen is the best idea ever. And when they wake up the next morning violently hungover with the apartment a mess they swear they're never going to do that again.
Coming back after being stuck in a trigger for 3+ days is wild. The echoes of what happened remain but like a vaguely remembered story. I feel the exhaustion of being in an activated state for so long but at the same time it's like my energy has returned to. I can think clearly and have motivation to do things.
Yet I know that just a few hours ago we were suicidal. Something I know but can't feel. Like talking about a friend who's been struggling. It's someone else's story not mine.
This felt like an allegory for life. Healthy forests aren’t always pretty - sometimes you’ve cut someone out, someone you loved (or thought you did). You’ve ditched practices, or taken some on, in the name of physical or mental health. You’ve done it for both. It’s self care that doesn’t involve cleaning. Its self care that does. It’s giving yourself grace to try and to fail. To let go of image for the sake of what’s inside. It’s going to the store in sweatpants. It’s honesty with yourself and kindness for yourself. Its love for yourself. It’s burning away the clutter. It’s simplifying. You’ve made it through a disturbance and are building back. Change can be ugly and growth can be painful. We are both the forests and the trees, and healthy forests aren’t always pretty.