supernatural themes/magical realism word count: 575
Tatsuya's heart is a fragile, fluttering thing that sits in the centre of Atsushi's palm. For its beautiful, gentle red glow, its beat is frantic. It suits its owner, Atsushi thinks. Calm on the surface, even though he can feel the truth beneath the surface.
Will you keep this safe, for me?
Atsushi makes no promises. Tatsuya must know better than to expect a reply at all, anyway.
He should know that Atsushi has never been good at being gentle.
He doesn't even know what to do with a heart. Doesn't know whether to shut it in a box somewhere and keep it safe, or to carry it with him wherever he goes.
He knows that Tatsuya would prefer the latter, but he refuses. Hearts are troublesome things at the best of times. Holding one in his hand wherever he goes sounds like a mistake waiting to happen.
I don't mind, he is told, and Atsushi should really know better than to take anything Tatsuya says at face value.
If Tatsuya's heart were made of glass, Atsushi would be indirectly responsible for the countless cracks along its surface and from deeper within, crisscrossing and joining together like an intricate pattern. Even without being made of glass, the damage is clear enough. It's not something Atsushi can melt down and reshape. It's not something Atsushi can heal at all.
He doesn't apologise to Tatsuya. He watches the way Tatsuya looks down at his heart, the corners of his lips turned down with a disappointment that he would never put into words.
He tells Atsushi to keep it, because there's no other use to it anyway, no other person he would give it to. No matter how many times Atsushi tries to give it back, Tatsuya makes sure it finds a way back. Atsushi hates it. This feels like a game that he's lost and he can't stand the constant reminder of it, sitting there in a glass box on his shelf, glowing a weaker red, its beat still as frantic as ever.
He hates that Tatsuya has a steadily growing collection of hearts that are given to him, each of them safe and healthy though he barely touches them, barely gives them any thought. The briefest glance in their direction is enough to have them glowing a happy, bright red. Atsushi tells himself that he's exhausted just watching them, that the twisting in his stomach isn't jealousy, that the twisting in his heart isn't guilt.
Tatsuya returns the hearts freely, and Atsushi is even angrier then.
"Why?" he demands. "Why don't you take yours back as happily as you give others their hearts back?"
Tatsuya only smiles at him, like it's the simplest thing in the entire world. "Their hearts aren't mine to keep. I only watch over them for a moment, until they come to realise that this isn't where their hearts belong."
"But yours―"
"Belongs with you," Tatsuya tells him. "Torn and imperfect as my heart may be, its home is still with you."
Atsushi is silent then, considering this.
He takes Tatsuya's heart out of its box later, when he's alone. He cups it in his hands and it feels just as fragile as ever, but he swears that it glows just that little bit brighter as he holds onto it.
It's his to keep, he thinks, closing his fingers around it protectively, watching the glow between the gaps. He'll keep it safe.
FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T
word count: 575
Tatsuya's heart is a fragile, fluttering thing that sits in the centre of Atsushi's palm. For its beautiful, gentle red glow, its beat is frantic. It suits its owner, Atsushi thinks. Calm on the surface, even though he can feel the truth beneath the surface.
Will you keep this safe, for me?
Atsushi makes no promises. Tatsuya must know better than to expect a reply at all, anyway.
He should know that Atsushi has never been good at being gentle.
He doesn't even know what to do with a heart. Doesn't know whether to shut it in a box somewhere and keep it safe, or to carry it with him wherever he goes.
He knows that Tatsuya would prefer the latter, but he refuses. Hearts are troublesome things at the best of times. Holding one in his hand wherever he goes sounds like a mistake waiting to happen.
I don't mind, he is told, and Atsushi should really know better than to take anything Tatsuya says at face value.
If Tatsuya's heart were made of glass, Atsushi would be indirectly responsible for the countless cracks along its surface and from deeper within, crisscrossing and joining together like an intricate pattern. Even without being made of glass, the damage is clear enough. It's not something Atsushi can melt down and reshape. It's not something Atsushi can heal at all.
He doesn't apologise to Tatsuya. He watches the way Tatsuya looks down at his heart, the corners of his lips turned down with a disappointment that he would never put into words.
He tells Atsushi to keep it, because there's no other use to it anyway, no other person he would give it to. No matter how many times Atsushi tries to give it back, Tatsuya makes sure it finds a way back. Atsushi hates it. This feels like a game that he's lost and he can't stand the constant reminder of it, sitting there in a glass box on his shelf, glowing a weaker red, its beat still as frantic as ever.
He hates that Tatsuya has a steadily growing collection of hearts that are given to him, each of them safe and healthy though he barely touches them, barely gives them any thought. The briefest glance in their direction is enough to have them glowing a happy, bright red. Atsushi tells himself that he's exhausted just watching them, that the twisting in his stomach isn't jealousy, that the twisting in his heart isn't guilt.
Tatsuya returns the hearts freely, and Atsushi is even angrier then.
"Why?" he demands. "Why don't you take yours back as happily as you give others their hearts back?"
Tatsuya only smiles at him, like it's the simplest thing in the entire world. "Their hearts aren't mine to keep. I only watch over them for a moment, until they come to realise that this isn't where their hearts belong."
"But yours―"
"Belongs with you," Tatsuya tells him. "Torn and imperfect as my heart may be, its home is still with you."
Atsushi is silent then, considering this.
He takes Tatsuya's heart out of its box later, when he's alone. He cups it in his hands and it feels just as fragile as ever, but he swears that it glows just that little bit brighter as he holds onto it.
It's his to keep, he thinks, closing his fingers around it protectively, watching the glow between the gaps. He'll keep it safe.