Major Tags: None Other Tags: Religious/Supernatural themes, Angst with a Happy Ending Word Count: 1536
***
Asahi was twelve the first time they'd appeared; none of the books or webpages he'd read about puberty had prepared him.
“I can totally see that girl's bra through her uniform,” a small, silver haired creature suddenly giggled from a perch on his shoulder, alerting Asahi to his presence. Asahi squeaked, then clapped his hand over his mouth.
“Is everything alright, Azumane-kun?” His teacher asked sharply, looking at him over her glasses. He felt himself turn five shades of red, and nodded meekly.
“Fine!”
“Alright, good. Then you should be able to read the sentence on the board out loud and turn it into the past tense for us.”
Asahi frantically flipped through his English notes for the bit about verb conjugations, and the relief that rushed through him when he gave the correct answer had him slumping in his seat. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat still radiating off his cheeks, when he heard the voice again.
“I mean, seriously,” it cackled. “Didn't anyone teach her not to wear dark underwear with a white shirt?”
Asahi looked again, and there he was; he looked like a boy Asahi's age, except he was only ten centimeters tall, with black horns protruding from his light hair and a tail curled around one of his ankles.
“Wha--?”
“You already humiliated him in front of his class,” another voice spoke directly beside Asahi's right ear, and he turned so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. This boy was the same small size as his friend, but his dark, cropped hair was illuminated by a crooked halo, and small wings erupted from the back of his gakuran jacket. “He's not going to look over.”
“Yes he is,” the little blond chirped brightly. “Aren't you, Asahi-kun?”
To encourage his point, he papped Asahi's cheek, and his tiny hand made Asahi's jaw vibrate. He squeaked again, and grabbed his stomach.
“I'm sorry, sensei, I really need to use the bathroom!” He whimpered pathetically, already racing out of the classroom to the echoes of giggles from his peers.
No matter how much water he slapped on his face, or how many times he rubbed his eyes, the twin creatures refused to disappear from his sight.
–
In the years that followed, Asahi had grown accustomed to the constant presence of Suga and Daichi, respectively the self-professed Devil and Angel of his subconscious. By the time he was seventeen, he actively looked forward to the commentary Suga would run in his ear throughout the day, everything from sassy, crude observations about the people around them, to terrible ideas Asahi knew better than to listen to. For that there was Daichi, quick with the sharp reprimands, who could be belitting just as often as he was encouraging.
“Nishinoya-kun is totally checking you out, Asahi,” Suga drawled lasciviously during a morning volleyball practice, one of the last before the last tournament of Asahi's high school career. He scoffed absently, and flicked the sweat off his brow in Suga's direction; even though it couldn't harm him, Suga gagged and made dramatic motions of cleaning himself off. “What? I was being honest!”
“Don't talk about my teammates that way,” he grunted breathlessly. “Nishinoya likes Shimizu-san.”
“Yeah, well, he still has eyes! He can look. And he's definitely been looking for the past year.”
“Give it a rest, Suga,” Daichi intervened, rolling his eyes. “Asahi doesn't want to compromise the team dynamics. He's being sensible.”
“Sensible my ass,” Suga scoffed. “He's being a coward. You need to stop enabling his behavior, Daichi. Don't you exist to help him better himself?”
“I exist to keep you in line, Suga.”
“You're doing a terrible job, then,” he laughed, gesturing emphatically at Asahi. “He has a ponytail and a goatee. Old ladies mistake him for a thug every other day. Remember the one who swatted him with her purse and left a bruise?”
“Yes, I stopped you from convincing him to grab her purse.”
“It would have been in self defense!”
Asahi came to the end of his run, one of the last to finish by virtue of having crazy teammates who had endless energy reserves. He wiped his sweaty brow on the end of his shirt, and while his mouth was covered he hissed at his shoulder guardians, “Can't this wait til we get home?”
Suga dissipated in a cloud of smoke, and after a terse apology, so did Daichi. Asahi didn't see or hear from either of them until he was done with his bath that night, and in the privacy of his room finishing up some homework.
“Suga is ready to apologize now,” Daichi announced, appearing not on Asahi's shoulder but on the desk in front of him, holding onto Suga by the collar of his shirt. Suga rolled his eyes.
“I'm sorry for trying to engage you in conversation when you were in public. However, I'm not sorry for trying to hook you up with a cute boy so you can finally get some. You're so repressed the greatest source of companionship you get is from us, and no one can even verify our existence.”
Asahi flicked Suga with his finger, and though he didn't actually make contact, Suga flinched and fell over anyways. Daichi looked at Asahi with pursed lips, the picture of disapproval, but Suga laughed.
“No, that's exactly what I would have told him to do.”
“I don't want to go out with Nishinoya, so stop bringing it up,” Asahi declared, an uncharacteristic edge to his voice that he hoped would mean they'd leave it alone. But Suga, who knew better than to find Asahi intimidating, ever, shook his head.
“But you find him attractive,” he accused.
“Yes, that's true...”
“But,” Daichi interrupted, looking firmly at Suga then more kindly at Asahi. “You're not in love with him. You're in love with someone else.”
Pained, Asahi shut his eyes and nodded, hanging his head.
“Daichi,” Suga sighed. “We've talked about this. We agreed not to acknowledge his feelings.”
There was a gentle touch on Asahi's knuckle. “Your feelings are valid, Asahi. Even if they're completely inconvenient. For what it's worth, we feel the same.”
“How did you even... know? What gave me away?” Asahi asked, his voice shaking.
“We're parts of you, dummy. We just knew.”
Asahi shamefully wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve, and looked down at the blurry figures of Daichi and Suga on his desk. Daichi's touch gets a little more firm. “Take that love you have for us and turn it into love for yourself, okay?”
–
Asahi doesn't remember falling asleep the last night he sees them; when he wakes up the next morning, it's with a distinctive sense of loss. Suga and Daichi don't come that day, or the next, or the next. That week is spent in the thick of his own grief, denial turning into anger and bargaining and back again, but there's no proof that they ever existed, and somehow, Asahi moves on.
When Karasuno makes it to the National semi-finals before conceding defeat, Nishinoya asks Asahi out on a date. They enjoy themselves, but agree they're better as friends. After graduation, Asahi takes a job at Shimada Mart, then at the library, then at a bigger branch of the library in Sendai. Two years have passed before a flash of silver hair catches his attention on a crowded train, and all of the air leaves his lungs.
He's still larger than most Japanese people, and self-conscious about using his size to bully his way deeper into the train car, but single minded determination gets him standing right in front of where a man is sitting, silver hair and a mole beside his left eye, looking down to read a book in his lap. An incomprehensible noise leaves his throat, and the man looks up; his eyes are hazel-green-grey and have Asahi's heart beating cracks into his ribcage.
“Oh, would you like to sit?” He asks politely, grabbing his bag as if making to stand. Asahi waves his hand emphatically.
“No, no! It's just... you look like someone I used to know.”
The man smiles ruefully up at him. “I'm sorry, no. I don't think we've met.”
Asahi's heart breaks, but the man's voice drowns it out as he adds, “It's not as if anyone would give up their immortality because they've fallen in love, after all.”
Asahi looks down at him again, and now the man – Suga, Suga, holy fucking shit, it is Suga! - is grinning at him unabashedly.
“W-Where's Daichi?”
“Rude,” Suga laughs. “You haven't even asked how I'm doing, you just skipped right to him!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Asahi laughs – cries? He really isn't sure – and he reaches out to put his hand on Suga's cheek. His skin is warm and soft to Asahi's touch, but best of all, it's solid.
“I'm fine,” Suga says firmly, placing his hand over Asahi's. “Daichi's fine, you're fine. We're all gonna be just fine.”
FILL: Team Grandstand, T
Other Tags: Religious/Supernatural themes, Angst with a Happy Ending
Word Count: 1536
***
Asahi was twelve the first time they'd appeared; none of the books or webpages he'd read about puberty had prepared him.
“I can totally see that girl's bra through her uniform,” a small, silver haired creature suddenly giggled from a perch on his shoulder, alerting Asahi to his presence. Asahi squeaked, then clapped his hand over his mouth.
“Is everything alright, Azumane-kun?” His teacher asked sharply, looking at him over her glasses. He felt himself turn five shades of red, and nodded meekly.
“Fine!”
“Alright, good. Then you should be able to read the sentence on the board out loud and turn it into the past tense for us.”
Asahi frantically flipped through his English notes for the bit about verb conjugations, and the relief that rushed through him when he gave the correct answer had him slumping in his seat. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat still radiating off his cheeks, when he heard the voice again.
“I mean, seriously,” it cackled. “Didn't anyone teach her not to wear dark underwear with a white shirt?”
Asahi looked again, and there he was; he looked like a boy Asahi's age, except he was only ten centimeters tall, with black horns protruding from his light hair and a tail curled around one of his ankles.
“Wha--?”
“You already humiliated him in front of his class,” another voice spoke directly beside Asahi's right ear, and he turned so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. This boy was the same small size as his friend, but his dark, cropped hair was illuminated by a crooked halo, and small wings erupted from the back of his gakuran jacket. “He's not going to look over.”
“Yes he is,” the little blond chirped brightly. “Aren't you, Asahi-kun?”
To encourage his point, he papped Asahi's cheek, and his tiny hand made Asahi's jaw vibrate. He squeaked again, and grabbed his stomach.
“I'm sorry, sensei, I really need to use the bathroom!” He whimpered pathetically, already racing out of the classroom to the echoes of giggles from his peers.
No matter how much water he slapped on his face, or how many times he rubbed his eyes, the twin creatures refused to disappear from his sight.
–
In the years that followed, Asahi had grown accustomed to the constant presence of Suga and Daichi, respectively the self-professed Devil and Angel of his subconscious. By the time he was seventeen, he actively looked forward to the commentary Suga would run in his ear throughout the day, everything from sassy, crude observations about the people around them, to terrible ideas Asahi knew better than to listen to. For that there was Daichi, quick with the sharp reprimands, who could be belitting just as often as he was encouraging.
“Nishinoya-kun is totally checking you out, Asahi,” Suga drawled lasciviously during a morning volleyball practice, one of the last before the last tournament of Asahi's high school career. He scoffed absently, and flicked the sweat off his brow in Suga's direction; even though it couldn't harm him, Suga gagged and made dramatic motions of cleaning himself off. “What? I was being honest!”
“Don't talk about my teammates that way,” he grunted breathlessly. “Nishinoya likes Shimizu-san.”
“Yeah, well, he still has eyes! He can look. And he's definitely been looking for the past year.”
“Give it a rest, Suga,” Daichi intervened, rolling his eyes. “Asahi doesn't want to compromise the team dynamics. He's being sensible.”
“Sensible my ass,” Suga scoffed. “He's being a coward. You need to stop enabling his behavior, Daichi. Don't you exist to help him better himself?”
“I exist to keep you in line, Suga.”
“You're doing a terrible job, then,” he laughed, gesturing emphatically at Asahi. “He has a ponytail and a goatee. Old ladies mistake him for a thug every other day. Remember the one who swatted him with her purse and left a bruise?”
“Yes, I stopped you from convincing him to grab her purse.”
“It would have been in self defense!”
Asahi came to the end of his run, one of the last to finish by virtue of having crazy teammates who had endless energy reserves. He wiped his sweaty brow on the end of his shirt, and while his mouth was covered he hissed at his shoulder guardians, “Can't this wait til we get home?”
Suga dissipated in a cloud of smoke, and after a terse apology, so did Daichi. Asahi didn't see or hear from either of them until he was done with his bath that night, and in the privacy of his room finishing up some homework.
“Suga is ready to apologize now,” Daichi announced, appearing not on Asahi's shoulder but on the desk in front of him, holding onto Suga by the collar of his shirt. Suga rolled his eyes.
“I'm sorry for trying to engage you in conversation when you were in public. However, I'm not sorry for trying to hook you up with a cute boy so you can finally get some. You're so repressed the greatest source of companionship you get is from us, and no one can even verify our existence.”
Asahi flicked Suga with his finger, and though he didn't actually make contact, Suga flinched and fell over anyways. Daichi looked at Asahi with pursed lips, the picture of disapproval, but Suga laughed.
“No, that's exactly what I would have told him to do.”
“I don't want to go out with Nishinoya, so stop bringing it up,” Asahi declared, an uncharacteristic edge to his voice that he hoped would mean they'd leave it alone. But Suga, who knew better than to find Asahi intimidating, ever, shook his head.
“But you find him attractive,” he accused.
“Yes, that's true...”
“But,” Daichi interrupted, looking firmly at Suga then more kindly at Asahi. “You're not in love with him. You're in love with someone else.”
Pained, Asahi shut his eyes and nodded, hanging his head.
“Daichi,” Suga sighed. “We've talked about this. We agreed not to acknowledge his feelings.”
There was a gentle touch on Asahi's knuckle. “Your feelings are valid, Asahi. Even if they're completely inconvenient. For what it's worth, we feel the same.”
“How did you even... know? What gave me away?” Asahi asked, his voice shaking.
“We're parts of you, dummy. We just knew.”
Asahi shamefully wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve, and looked down at the blurry figures of Daichi and Suga on his desk. Daichi's touch gets a little more firm. “Take that love you have for us and turn it into love for yourself, okay?”
–
Asahi doesn't remember falling asleep the last night he sees them; when he wakes up the next morning, it's with a distinctive sense of loss. Suga and Daichi don't come that day, or the next, or the next. That week is spent in the thick of his own grief, denial turning into anger and bargaining and back again, but there's no proof that they ever existed, and somehow, Asahi moves on.
When Karasuno makes it to the National semi-finals before conceding defeat, Nishinoya asks Asahi out on a date. They enjoy themselves, but agree they're better as friends. After graduation, Asahi takes a job at Shimada Mart, then at the library, then at a bigger branch of the library in Sendai. Two years have passed before a flash of silver hair catches his attention on a crowded train, and all of the air leaves his lungs.
He's still larger than most Japanese people, and self-conscious about using his size to bully his way deeper into the train car, but single minded determination gets him standing right in front of where a man is sitting, silver hair and a mole beside his left eye, looking down to read a book in his lap. An incomprehensible noise leaves his throat, and the man looks up; his eyes are hazel-green-grey and have Asahi's heart beating cracks into his ribcage.
“Oh, would you like to sit?” He asks politely, grabbing his bag as if making to stand. Asahi waves his hand emphatically.
“No, no! It's just... you look like someone I used to know.”
The man smiles ruefully up at him. “I'm sorry, no. I don't think we've met.”
Asahi's heart breaks, but the man's voice drowns it out as he adds, “It's not as if anyone would give up their immortality because they've fallen in love, after all.”
Asahi looks down at him again, and now the man – Suga, Suga, holy fucking shit, it is Suga! - is grinning at him unabashedly.
“W-Where's Daichi?”
“Rude,” Suga laughs. “You haven't even asked how I'm doing, you just skipped right to him!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Asahi laughs – cries? He really isn't sure – and he reaches out to put his hand on Suga's cheek. His skin is warm and soft to Asahi's touch, but best of all, it's solid.
“I'm fine,” Suga says firmly, placing his hand over Asahi's. “Daichi's fine, you're fine. We're all gonna be just fine.”