Ship: Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun Fandom: Daiya no Ace Major Tags: angst Other Tags: None Word Count: 784
I cry
***
“Do you have everything?”
It’s not what you want to say, but all the words you want to speak die upon your lips before they have a chance to escape.
Don’t go.
“Yeah, I think this is all of it.”
Stay here.
“Good, you don’t want to forget anything.”
Please.
There’s no evidence Sawamura’s been here, that he’s even existed in this place, existed here with you, for so long.
Your offer for him to live with you was impulsive and poor judgment, swayed simply by his dejected expression as he complained about housing prices and being on his own for the first time. But the light in his eyes as he’d eagerly agreed, and the sight of him entering your home with boxes full of his things to be put alongside yours, put every ounce of doubt out of your mind.
There’s no sign left of him, those very things of his that filled your home with life for years taken down, leaving the place appearing uninhabited and cold.
Nothing but the scratch on the wall the two of you have resigned to covering with a picture, the one that every time you ask how it happened, he changes the subject.
Nothing but the burn mark over the stove that happened the first time, and last time, he attempted to cook.
Nothing but the photos filling up your phone of the two of you, most of which had been taken by Sawamura, as he’s intent on documenting every moment of your lives together. Everything from victory selfies after games, to vacations he convinced you to go on, to domestic scenes where you simply exist together. Though you’re not sure you can bear to look at them after today.
There’s nothing left but the memories you yourself retain, memories that will be sure to fade with time, with nothing new to take their place. Memories of his sleeping form next to you, in your bed that’s really not meant for two people, but you make do. Memories of him wearing your clothes under the excuse that he doesn’t feel like doing laundry, and you would never admit to him that they looked so much better this way.
Memories of his smile and his laugh and him in his entirety, brighter and more beautiful than anything you feel you’ve ever deserved.
“I won’t forget anything,” he pouts, but there’s no real bite to his tone, no real emotion at all, as he stares at the ground.
There’s nothing left of him here, nothing of any real substance, nothing near enough to take the edge off the empty feeling in your chest even though he’s still standing right before you.
Please don’t do this.
“Call me when you get there.”
Don’t leave me alone.
“I will.”
The sound of a barely choked back sob, followed by a drop of water, a tear, falling to the floor, and he looks like he’s torn between throwing his travel bag to the ground, or turning around and taking it with him before he can tell himself not to.
You move forward on instinct. One step. And another. Until you’re reaching out to him before you even realize what you’re doing, wiping away the wetness falling freely down his cheeks with your thumb.
His gaze lifts to meet yours, and something akin to immeasurable pain and yet inexplicable relief grows through your chest at the sight of tears pooling in dull golden eyes, because he wants to be here just as much as you want him to.
Stay with me.
You don’t realize you’ve spoken your thoughts, your wants and desires and needs, aloud, until-
“I’m sorry.”
It’s barley a whisper, only just audible because of the distance between you that has all but dissipated.
“Then don’t go.”
It’s an empty request, one that he cannot fulfill no matter what either of you want at this point. He already has a new home, a new job, a new life, waiting for him far away from you. But you won’t be able to forgive yourself if you don’t try at least once more.
He leans forward, hesitant, tears falling against your skin until you realize they’re your own. The graze of a ghost of a kiss brushing across your cheek as he breathes-
“I’m sorry, Kazuya”
You’ve barely registered the act, not even given enough time to think, to tell him he doesn’t need to be sorry, that there’ll be nothing to be sorry about if he doesn’t leave, before he’s turned around, bag now thrown over his shoulder and headed to the door without so much as a glance back in your direction.
You reach out, helplessly and hopelessly, trying to grasp at something that is no longer yours to keep, something you realize has been lost to you for long before now.
The slam of the door resonates across the now mostly empty room, leaving you alone.
FILL: Team Daiya no Ace, T
Fandom: Daiya no Ace
Major Tags: angst
Other Tags: None
Word Count: 784
I cry
***
“Do you have everything?”
It’s not what you want to say, but all the words you want to speak die upon your lips before they have a chance to escape.
Don’t go.
“Yeah, I think this is all of it.”
Stay here.
“Good, you don’t want to forget anything.”
Please.
There’s no evidence Sawamura’s been here, that he’s even existed in this place, existed here with you, for so long.
Your offer for him to live with you was impulsive and poor judgment, swayed simply by his dejected expression as he complained about housing prices and being on his own for the first time. But the light in his eyes as he’d eagerly agreed, and the sight of him entering your home with boxes full of his things to be put alongside yours, put every ounce of doubt out of your mind.
There’s no sign left of him, those very things of his that filled your home with life for years taken down, leaving the place appearing uninhabited and cold.
Nothing but the scratch on the wall the two of you have resigned to covering with a picture, the one that every time you ask how it happened, he changes the subject.
Nothing but the burn mark over the stove that happened the first time, and last time, he attempted to cook.
Nothing but the photos filling up your phone of the two of you, most of which had been taken by Sawamura, as he’s intent on documenting every moment of your lives together. Everything from victory selfies after games, to vacations he convinced you to go on, to domestic scenes where you simply exist together. Though you’re not sure you can bear to look at them after today.
There’s nothing left but the memories you yourself retain, memories that will be sure to fade with time, with nothing new to take their place. Memories of his sleeping form next to you, in your bed that’s really not meant for two people, but you make do. Memories of him wearing your clothes under the excuse that he doesn’t feel like doing laundry, and you would never admit to him that they looked so much better this way.
Memories of his smile and his laugh and him in his entirety, brighter and more beautiful than anything you feel you’ve ever deserved.
“I won’t forget anything,” he pouts, but there’s no real bite to his tone, no real emotion at all, as he stares at the ground.
There’s nothing left of him here, nothing of any real substance, nothing near enough to take the edge off the empty feeling in your chest even though he’s still standing right before you.
Please don’t do this.
“Call me when you get there.”
Don’t leave me alone.
“I will.”
The sound of a barely choked back sob, followed by a drop of water, a tear, falling to the floor, and he looks like he’s torn between throwing his travel bag to the ground, or turning around and taking it with him before he can tell himself not to.
You move forward on instinct. One step. And another. Until you’re reaching out to him before you even realize what you’re doing, wiping away the wetness falling freely down his cheeks with your thumb.
His gaze lifts to meet yours, and something akin to immeasurable pain and yet inexplicable relief grows through your chest at the sight of tears pooling in dull golden eyes, because he wants to be here just as much as you want him to.
Stay with me.
You don’t realize you’ve spoken your thoughts, your wants and desires and needs, aloud, until-
“I’m sorry.”
It’s barley a whisper, only just audible because of the distance between you that has all but dissipated.
“Then don’t go.”
It’s an empty request, one that he cannot fulfill no matter what either of you want at this point. He already has a new home, a new job, a new life, waiting for him far away from you. But you won’t be able to forgive yourself if you don’t try at least once more.
He leans forward, hesitant, tears falling against your skin until you realize they’re your own. The graze of a ghost of a kiss brushing across your cheek as he breathes-
“I’m sorry, Kazuya”
You’ve barely registered the act, not even given enough time to think, to tell him he doesn’t need to be sorry, that there’ll be nothing to be sorry about if he doesn’t leave, before he’s turned around, bag now thrown over his shoulder and headed to the door without so much as a glance back in your direction.
You reach out, helplessly and hopelessly, trying to grasp at something that is no longer yours to keep, something you realize has been lost to you for long before now.
The slam of the door resonates across the now mostly empty room, leaving you alone.