Ship: Nijimura/Himuro Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Square: hello goodbye Word Count: 429
***
They are, Shuuzou thinks, like ships that pass in the night, him and Tatsuya. He’d left, a year and change ago, to come here from Japan. Tomorrow, Tatsuya’s going back, alone, leaving Shuuzou behind across a divide he knows all too well from both sides (his parents over in LA then, his old life over in Tokyo now, so far away in so many ways). There was such a small chance of them meeting, especially as early as they did, and yet. They had.
They are like ships that pass in the night, cutting the ocean water slowly with barnacle-encrusted hulls, Tatsuya’s figurehead a beautiful mermaid and Shuuzou’s something a bit more visibly rough (doesn’t mean Tatsuya’s not a pirate, quick with a sword). There is only empty wind through their sails, pulling; there is nothing but open water at either end, and yet Shuuzou wants to set down his anchor and stay, pull Tatsuya into his orbit.
It’s impossible when Tatsuya his his sights set on the other end of the telescope, the land so far away Shuuzou’s not quite sure if it’s a mirage (or if it wasn’t one to begin with, if he hadn’t been born in the sea, out here and alone). Or maybe it’s something beyond that, something Shuuzou can’t see or reach, an idea locked away in the tightest-secured vault of Tatsuya’s mind. Shuuzou can’t reverse his course now, cannot turn the tides quickly enough, but if there was some way he could—not make Tatsuya stay; he believes him completely when Tatsuya says there’s something over there he needs to do, to get behind him and move on (though whether he can or not is a different story; maybe either way he has to try)—make him agree that this is not nothing, that the two of them mattered. Do matter.
Shuuzou is sixteen (seventeen in July, but who’s counting); he knows he’s young. But he knows that this can’t be it, even if Tatsuya pulls away with the strongest force he can muster. Even if the wind’s going in the right direction, if the brine washes Tatsuya toward his future, Shuuzou will find some way—not now, maybe, but sometime, somehow—to follow him. To prove this isn’t just a quick hello, goodbye, I’m never seeing you again.
So he doesn’t say goodbye at the airport, and maybe that’s cheating. Instead he hugs Tatsuya tightly until Tatsuya sinks into his grip like quicksand, and whispers a selfish, “don’t forget me” because it’s the best he can do for now.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, C1, G
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Square: hello goodbye
Word Count: 429
***
They are, Shuuzou thinks, like ships that pass in the night, him and Tatsuya. He’d left, a year and change ago, to come here from Japan. Tomorrow, Tatsuya’s going back, alone, leaving Shuuzou behind across a divide he knows all too well from both sides (his parents over in LA then, his old life over in Tokyo now, so far away in so many ways). There was such a small chance of them meeting, especially as early as they did, and yet. They had.
They are like ships that pass in the night, cutting the ocean water slowly with barnacle-encrusted hulls, Tatsuya’s figurehead a beautiful mermaid and Shuuzou’s something a bit more visibly rough (doesn’t mean Tatsuya’s not a pirate, quick with a sword). There is only empty wind through their sails, pulling; there is nothing but open water at either end, and yet Shuuzou wants to set down his anchor and stay, pull Tatsuya into his orbit.
It’s impossible when Tatsuya his his sights set on the other end of the telescope, the land so far away Shuuzou’s not quite sure if it’s a mirage (or if it wasn’t one to begin with, if he hadn’t been born in the sea, out here and alone). Or maybe it’s something beyond that, something Shuuzou can’t see or reach, an idea locked away in the tightest-secured vault of Tatsuya’s mind. Shuuzou can’t reverse his course now, cannot turn the tides quickly enough, but if there was some way he could—not make Tatsuya stay; he believes him completely when Tatsuya says there’s something over there he needs to do, to get behind him and move on (though whether he can or not is a different story; maybe either way he has to try)—make him agree that this is not nothing, that the two of them mattered. Do matter.
Shuuzou is sixteen (seventeen in July, but who’s counting); he knows he’s young. But he knows that this can’t be it, even if Tatsuya pulls away with the strongest force he can muster. Even if the wind’s going in the right direction, if the brine washes Tatsuya toward his future, Shuuzou will find some way—not now, maybe, but sometime, somehow—to follow him. To prove this isn’t just a quick hello, goodbye, I’m never seeing you again.
So he doesn’t say goodbye at the airport, and maybe that’s cheating. Instead he hugs Tatsuya tightly until Tatsuya sinks into his grip like quicksand, and whispers a selfish, “don’t forget me” because it’s the best he can do for now.