Ship: ushijima wakatoshi/oikawa tooru Fandom: haikyuu Major Tags: none Other Tags: post-canon? Word Count: 637
it's just ushijima musing to himself for the better part of this, but i love the softness potential of this prompt a lot
***
The room is dark when Wakatoshi wakes. A glance out the window shows him evening skies, gradually shifting into quieter tones of blue. He’s surely missed his afternoon class. But the soft haze of sleep still lingers over him, making him feel warm and slow and reluctant to care about anything other than the extreme comfortableness he’s experiencing right now.
Wakatoshi turns and looks at the boy lying next to him. Oikawa is still asleep, mouth open slightly, a spot of drool collecting on his bedsheets. Wakatoshi can count his eyelashes from here, long and clumped together a little, reminders of the upset from a few hours before. His eyes are a bit puffy, and the dark smudges under his eyes is clear to see. He looks exhausted.
Even though Oikawa has managed to tire himself out crying, Wakatoshi still feels at a loss. He remembers what Iwaizumi told him, the first time that Wakatoshi caught Oikawa crying in the bathroom and called Iwaizumi in panic, that Oikawa is a crybaby despite what he’s led his fanclub and the rest of the world to believe, and he’s “an ugly crier, that Shittykawa.” It took a while getting used to, how Oikawa cries at everything. He tries to hide it in the bathroom, in his bedroom, turned away when Wakatoshi is in the same room. But they live together, and Iwaizumi’s an entire city too far to buffer. Wakatoshi has learned to stock up on tissue boxes and pour glasses of water and just wait it out with Oikawa, even if the other boy glares at him the whole time.
Today, though, Wakatoshi hadn’t expected Oikawa to tell him why he was so upset. Coach had announced yesterday that Oikawa was to be taken off the starting lineup until his knee heals properly. Wakatoshi thought that seemed fair, and he can’t wait until Oikawa is back steady on his feet and ready to toss to him again. But Oikawa, apparently, had taken it differently.
“It’s not fucking fair,” he said, snot and tears dripping down his face as he resolutely faced the wall instead of Wakatoshi. “I’ve tried so hard all this time, all the extra practice and the physical therapy and I know Iwa-chan told me to take it easy, I know, but the season’s starting soon and I just—I hate this. I hate you. Just leave me alone already, Ushijima. What more do you want from me?”
Wakatoshi had blinked, because he knew that some part of Oikawa had always hated him, but he was surprised by the amount of bitterness in the other’s voice and the use of his actual name instead of the nickname Oikawa liked to tease him with. (At least, Wakatoshi assumed it was teasing. He isn’t very good at reading people, and Oikawa is harder than most. But Wakatoshi didn’t mind. It’s interesting, how Oikawa keeps him guessing.)
But that’s the thing. Wakatoshi has been so focused on chasing this image of victory for himself, for his father, that he forgets that Oikawa has also always been chasing after his image of victory. And that can kind of get... heavy.
Wakatoshi reaches out and carefully, gently, runs his fingers through Oikawa’s curly hair. The other boy stirs, opening bleary brown eyes, blinking slow. He looks so soft in the early evening light.
“What are you doing here?” Oikawa yawns. “Didn’t you have a class?”
Wakatoshi hums. He smoothes down the messy locks, watching the way Oikawa’s eyes slip closed at the touch. “Want to order in for dinner today?” he asks.
“Okay,” Oikawa says. He keeps his eyes closed as he leans into Wakatoshi’s hand.
They lie there for a while longer, breathing quiet, holding each other close. All the things unsaid that may lie between them can wait until tomorrow.
FILL: team akaashi keiji/bokuto koutarou, [G]
Fandom: haikyuu
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: post-canon?
Word Count: 637
it's just ushijima musing to himself for the better part of this, but i love the softness potential of this prompt a lot
***
The room is dark when Wakatoshi wakes. A glance out the window shows him evening skies, gradually shifting into quieter tones of blue. He’s surely missed his afternoon class. But the soft haze of sleep still lingers over him, making him feel warm and slow and reluctant to care about anything other than the extreme comfortableness he’s experiencing right now.
Wakatoshi turns and looks at the boy lying next to him. Oikawa is still asleep, mouth open slightly, a spot of drool collecting on his bedsheets. Wakatoshi can count his eyelashes from here, long and clumped together a little, reminders of the upset from a few hours before. His eyes are a bit puffy, and the dark smudges under his eyes is clear to see. He looks exhausted.
Even though Oikawa has managed to tire himself out crying, Wakatoshi still feels at a loss. He remembers what Iwaizumi told him, the first time that Wakatoshi caught Oikawa crying in the bathroom and called Iwaizumi in panic, that Oikawa is a crybaby despite what he’s led his fanclub and the rest of the world to believe, and he’s “an ugly crier, that Shittykawa.” It took a while getting used to, how Oikawa cries at everything. He tries to hide it in the bathroom, in his bedroom, turned away when Wakatoshi is in the same room. But they live together, and Iwaizumi’s an entire city too far to buffer. Wakatoshi has learned to stock up on tissue boxes and pour glasses of water and just wait it out with Oikawa, even if the other boy glares at him the whole time.
Today, though, Wakatoshi hadn’t expected Oikawa to tell him why he was so upset. Coach had announced yesterday that Oikawa was to be taken off the starting lineup until his knee heals properly. Wakatoshi thought that seemed fair, and he can’t wait until Oikawa is back steady on his feet and ready to toss to him again. But Oikawa, apparently, had taken it differently.
“It’s not fucking fair,” he said, snot and tears dripping down his face as he resolutely faced the wall instead of Wakatoshi. “I’ve tried so hard all this time, all the extra practice and the physical therapy and I know Iwa-chan told me to take it easy, I know, but the season’s starting soon and I just—I hate this. I hate you. Just leave me alone already, Ushijima. What more do you want from me?”
Wakatoshi had blinked, because he knew that some part of Oikawa had always hated him, but he was surprised by the amount of bitterness in the other’s voice and the use of his actual name instead of the nickname Oikawa liked to tease him with. (At least, Wakatoshi assumed it was teasing. He isn’t very good at reading people, and Oikawa is harder than most. But Wakatoshi didn’t mind. It’s interesting, how Oikawa keeps him guessing.)
But that’s the thing. Wakatoshi has been so focused on chasing this image of victory for himself, for his father, that he forgets that Oikawa has also always been chasing after his image of victory. And that can kind of get... heavy.
Wakatoshi reaches out and carefully, gently, runs his fingers through Oikawa’s curly hair. The other boy stirs, opening bleary brown eyes, blinking slow. He looks so soft in the early evening light.
“What are you doing here?” Oikawa yawns. “Didn’t you have a class?”
Wakatoshi hums. He smoothes down the messy locks, watching the way Oikawa’s eyes slip closed at the touch. “Want to order in for dinner today?” he asks.
“Okay,” Oikawa says. He keeps his eyes closed as he leans into Wakatoshi’s hand.
They lie there for a while longer, breathing quiet, holding each other close. All the things unsaid that may lie between them can wait until tomorrow.