Loving a mortal is like doting on a small, insignificant specific speck on the ground, when his rain encompasses the entire region, no, the entire country.
Tooru loves Hajime all the same. That alone is enough to make him important enough to be worthy of Tooru's time and attention. Even if it still feels a little strange.
He's jealous of his own raindrops for touching Hajime's face, when he wants to do it with his own hands. He hates the way that his own winds will blow past Hajime, ruffling his short hair, playing with the hem of his clothes. Hajime might have come to think of all of it as Tooru, and he's correct in his assessment, just as much as he isn't.
The weather is part of Tooru, of course. An extension of him, and a way to make his presence known, whether that be to Hajime or to everyone else in the area.
It still feels like a stand-in, when Tooru is bound to the sky by his duties. He'll have to wait until he's done before he can spend time physically being with Hajime, and he knows that the more he turns his attention to Hajime alone, the more he'll have to wait.
He still can't resist the urge, anyway. It's never anything big. Some carefully directed raindrops here, a gentle rumble of thunder in response to whatever Hajime says to the sky. Tooru keeps an ear out for all of it; the yelled curses whenever Tooru is feeling particularly petulant and reminds Hajime of his presence with an incredibly specific downpour, the casual greetings as Hajime turns his smile to the sky as if he knows that Tooru is watching, and the whispered confessions of, I miss you, or it's been a while, that are never outright requests to come and visit, but Tooru has learned to read between the lines long ago.
Hajime doesn't need to know any of that, though. He doesn't need to think of Tooru as a god far older than he looks; he's happy to play the petulant, teasing young man that fits Hajime's expectations. When he grows, and when his needs for what he finds in a partner change, Tooru will too. He already knows that; they've been playing this game since Hajime was too young to remember . They'll be playing it until Hajime doesn't remember any more.
Tooru pushes the thought from his mind with a particularly strong gust of wind, and turns his attention to Hajime, on the ground below, waiting for him.
With a smile, Tooru lets himself fall like the rain.
FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G
mortal/immortal relationship
word count: 437
remix of
Loving a mortal is like doting on a small, insignificant specific speck on the ground, when his rain encompasses the entire region, no, the entire country.
Tooru loves Hajime all the same. That alone is enough to make him important enough to be worthy of Tooru's time and attention. Even if it still feels a little strange.
He's jealous of his own raindrops for touching Hajime's face, when he wants to do it with his own hands. He hates the way that his own winds will blow past Hajime, ruffling his short hair, playing with the hem of his clothes. Hajime might have come to think of all of it as Tooru, and he's correct in his assessment, just as much as he isn't.
The weather is part of Tooru, of course. An extension of him, and a way to make his presence known, whether that be to Hajime or to everyone else in the area.
It still feels like a stand-in, when Tooru is bound to the sky by his duties. He'll have to wait until he's done before he can spend time physically being with Hajime, and he knows that the more he turns his attention to Hajime alone, the more he'll have to wait.
He still can't resist the urge, anyway. It's never anything big. Some carefully directed raindrops here, a gentle rumble of thunder in response to whatever Hajime says to the sky. Tooru keeps an ear out for all of it; the yelled curses whenever Tooru is feeling particularly petulant and reminds Hajime of his presence with an incredibly specific downpour, the casual greetings as Hajime turns his smile to the sky as if he knows that Tooru is watching, and the whispered confessions of, I miss you, or it's been a while, that are never outright requests to come and visit, but Tooru has learned to read between the lines long ago.
Hajime doesn't need to know any of that, though. He doesn't need to think of Tooru as a god far older than he looks; he's happy to play the petulant, teasing young man that fits Hajime's expectations. When he grows, and when his needs for what he finds in a partner change, Tooru will too. He already knows that; they've been playing this game since Hajime was too young to remember . They'll be playing it until Hajime doesn't remember any more.
Tooru pushes the thought from his mind with a particularly strong gust of wind, and turns his attention to Hajime, on the ground below, waiting for him.
With a smile, Tooru lets himself fall like the rain.