Ship: ushijima/oikawa Fandom: haikyuu Major Tags: none Other Tags: angst, liminal spaces Original Work:link by earlgrey_milktea Word Count: 553
***
Oikawa doesn't know why he left, not exactly. Maybe that sounds like an excuse—it sounds like whole lot of bullshit to his own ears—but it's as much of a mystery to him as it must be to the one he'd left behind. The details are hazy, the idea that led him down this path obscured. His mind is muddled and he's not certain if it has anything to do with where he is at present, or if it's because whatever reasons he previously had to pack his bags don't really have anything to stand on.
He's standing alone in an empty train car and it seems like he's been here for ages, but it couldn't have been that long. He can't check the time; he'd given away his favorite watch. The engine thrums underneath his shoes, so he's in motion, though stuck in a perpetual tunnel, so he doesn't have the sun (or lack thereof) to rely on. There are no stops, no arrival at any station. The suitcase in his hand weighs heavy but he won't let go of it, considering it a sort of anchor. The ache in his arm grounds him, keeps him here, even if he doesn't know where that is.
He still doesn't know why he left. Maybe it hardly matters, since he's just as lost and directionless as the day he stepped out of a shared apartment and let the lock click silently into place behind him. Maybe he has to remember it to reach a destination, any destination; maybe his heart just wants him to stop running. That could be it, or close to it.
It's easier to pretend he doesn't know how to love than to love. It's easier than learning how to let himself be loved. It's easy because it's familiar, and he's good at it.
The truth is right around the corner, the bend in the road: he chose the easy way, instead of—
Abruptly, the train halts. The doors part to a station just as empty as the car's interior. Empty, except for a figure sitting on bench right in front of the open doors.
Ushijima looks the same as the day Oikawa left, though he hadn't allowed himself a parting glance. It's as if no time has passed at all, even if that can't be true. Maybe it hardly matters when Oikawa finds himself right back where he started.
Maybe, right where he belongs.
He steps off the train, setting his suitcase down (finally) as he stands in front of Ushijima, whose face is unreadable as their gazes settle on one another. Oikawa's eyes flicker down to the watch in Ushijima's hands. It had been an inheritance, then a gift. Oikawa always thought it suited Ushijima better than it did him.
"You're more sentimental than you let on, Ushiwaka-chan," says Oikawa softly. He holds out his hand. "Let's go home."
For a moment, Ushijima's eyes flicker down to the watch too. His jaw sets and his eyes dampen as he takes in the time, and then he puts his hand in Oikawa's, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Their fingers entwine, and as they walk to the exit, Oikawa takes a peek at the watch's face.
11:24. Relief washes over him, and he doesn't know why.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G
Fandom: haikyuu
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: angst, liminal spaces
Original Work: link by
Word Count: 553
***
Oikawa doesn't know why he left, not exactly. Maybe that sounds like an excuse—it sounds like whole lot of bullshit to his own ears—but it's as much of a mystery to him as it must be to the one he'd left behind. The details are hazy, the idea that led him down this path obscured. His mind is muddled and he's not certain if it has anything to do with where he is at present, or if it's because whatever reasons he previously had to pack his bags don't really have anything to stand on.
He's standing alone in an empty train car and it seems like he's been here for ages, but it couldn't have been that long. He can't check the time; he'd given away his favorite watch. The engine thrums underneath his shoes, so he's in motion, though stuck in a perpetual tunnel, so he doesn't have the sun (or lack thereof) to rely on. There are no stops, no arrival at any station. The suitcase in his hand weighs heavy but he won't let go of it, considering it a sort of anchor. The ache in his arm grounds him, keeps him here, even if he doesn't know where that is.
He still doesn't know why he left. Maybe it hardly matters, since he's just as lost and directionless as the day he stepped out of a shared apartment and let the lock click silently into place behind him. Maybe he has to remember it to reach a destination, any destination; maybe his heart just wants him to stop running. That could be it, or close to it.
It's easier to pretend he doesn't know how to love than to love. It's easier than learning how to let himself be loved. It's easy because it's familiar, and he's good at it.
The truth is right around the corner, the bend in the road: he chose the easy way, instead of—
Abruptly, the train halts. The doors part to a station just as empty as the car's interior. Empty, except for a figure sitting on bench right in front of the open doors.
Ushijima looks the same as the day Oikawa left, though he hadn't allowed himself a parting glance. It's as if no time has passed at all, even if that can't be true. Maybe it hardly matters when Oikawa finds himself right back where he started.
Maybe, right where he belongs.
He steps off the train, setting his suitcase down (finally) as he stands in front of Ushijima, whose face is unreadable as their gazes settle on one another. Oikawa's eyes flicker down to the watch in Ushijima's hands. It had been an inheritance, then a gift. Oikawa always thought it suited Ushijima better than it did him.
"You're more sentimental than you let on, Ushiwaka-chan," says Oikawa softly. He holds out his hand. "Let's go home."
For a moment, Ushijima's eyes flicker down to the watch too. His jaw sets and his eyes dampen as he takes in the time, and then he puts his hand in Oikawa's, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Their fingers entwine, and as they walk to the exit, Oikawa takes a peek at the watch's face.
11:24. Relief washes over him, and he doesn't know why.