Warnings: mentions of blood via puncturing the skin Additional warnings: mentions of drowning as metaphor, angst, sexual content Word count: 1,520
Some people had it easy, finding themselves in a relationship that bloomed out of something as small and ordinary like a love letter in their locker. A confession at the back of the school or under a tree out of sight except for the two individuals— in high school, a story like that was expected and quite honestly, hoped for. But love was a fickle, fickle thing. Asahi knew this best because he was constantly reminded of everything he wanted and everything he was too scared to touch every time he catches sight of Nishinoya.
"Ah, Kiyoko-san! Kiyoko-san!!“
Today like always, he watched from the sidelines as Tanaka and Nishinoya hurried over to their manager. She was barely flustered as always, firm in her rejection to their affection with a shake of her head while also always appreciative of their efforts. She never lied or pretended to believe something she didn’t. She was gentle and soft but so very sincere.
She was so very unlike Asahi, who cowered immediately when he found himself in an unfamiliar place. Enough to the point where watching her interactions with Nishinoya made him envious and horrifying upset at himself because it really shouldn’t be that hard to stand up for what he wants.
But Asahi was unable to breathe or even act normally in front of Nishinoya anymore. From the moment his realized that he had liked the other boy and not in the way Tanaka or the Hinata and Tobio duo did, he had found himself clenching his fist over his chest. The cotton fabric of his shirt, drenched with sweat from the act and from the immediate cold sweat formed from anxiety, twisted under his fingers as he started down at the mess on his other hand. He had wiped himself off on the same shirt and then rushed himself out of his bedroom to the laundry room with it, heart thumping painfully against his ribs as he threw the shirt into the washer.
The cold water and detergent had erased the evidence of what he had done but no amount of washing and cleaning and distraction had managed to erase the flitting thoughts he had of Nishinoya.
And it was those exact thoughts that had Asahi shrinking further into himself. It didn’t matter if he was helping to pick up stray volleyballs from the court or when he was using the broom to polish the floor before the team headed out for the night. Every time he heard Nishinoya’s voice or saw a glimpse of him from the corner of his eyes (he was too afraid to look straight onto the other man now), Asahi thought of how he would look sprawled on the mess that was his sheets—how Nishinoya would look with parted lips, eyes hazy and wide from pleasure, and Asahi’s larger palm pressing down against the slight dip of his back.
Needless to say, Asahi avoided looking and being near Nishinoya as much as possible, to the point where he even volunteered to do small errand runs just to get out of the court when he really should be practicing with the rest of them. Such as cleaning volleyballs, which he was doing on the bench while watching the rest of the time practice halfheartedly.
“Asahi?”
But it’s definitely better to stay on the bench and avoid saying anything to Nishinoya until he was able to act normal again.
“Asahi—“
And even if it was shameful to admit to himself, it was easier too. He didn’t have to think about it if he didn’t have to be in a place that prompted his mind to wander.
“A—SA—HI!”
“Wah!”
The volleyball dropped from between his hands and rolled off to the center of the court. Asahi fumbled to stand up but was made to stay where he was, a pair of small hands coming down to press firmly against his shoulders.
“Are you okay, Asahi? You look sort of sad.”
He didn’t need to look up to know who it was in front of him. There was no way to forget the sound of Nishinoya’s voice and touch when they’ve been just as strong of a team together as the team itself was with everyone else. Asahi swallowed, hands coming together instinctively as if the bigger boy was afraid of what he would do if he didn’t keep them busy.
“Ah—ah, Nishinoya. I’m just, thinking?”
“Thinking about what?” Nishinoya folded his arms over his chest and Asahi felt sweat slowly dripping its way down the back of his neck and into the collar of his shirt.
“Thi—things?”
“What things?” The questioning continued and Asahi leaned back, head bowing so his eyes could find solace with the floor.
“N-Nothing important,” he insisted. Nothing he could say at least.
“—You know you can talk to me if you need to right, Asahi?” It wasn’t the words that made him look up but the tone used. Soft, a little tearful. Worry. Confusion. And a hint of something that he can’t quite understand. When their eyes finally met, it became a little harder to breathe. It was as if the air around him had turned to water and Asahi was the only one without an oxygen mask. He can’t cross that line—he really can’t afford the price of that passageway. The knowledge doesn’t stop him from considering the possibility though.
“We’ve been friends for so long—” Nishinoya sounded so far away even when Asahi was just right there. If he reached out, he could just pull the other boy into arms and squeeze. There were only jerseys between the two of them and wouldn’t it be a lovely secret if he could slip a hand up and brush bare skin just to see if dreams were truly just as good as reality? Asahi breathed out shallowly, eyes widening but vision only focusing on Nishinoya’s face.
Soft looking lips, especially sweet when plumped out in a pout—no doubt just as sweet when wrapped around a cock. A small tongue, sweet and glistening pink, that barely matched the smart comments that would sincerely and brutally be said every so often but would be the source of the best and most teasing of pressures.
“And friends don’t hide things from friends, right? I can handle it, Asahi, so you can always depend on me.”
“No!”
The shock on Nishinoya’s face, splayed out for the world to see in the slight parted ‘o’ of his lips and the furrow of his brow, acted like cold water on Asahi along with the sharp stings to his palms. Asahi pushed himself off the bench, immediately fumbling for some excuse or another.
“It—It’s honestly nothing important. You don’t,” he paused, hesitant, before forcing a smile onto his face and scratching at the base of his neck with a hand. “You don’t need to worry, Nishinoya. If it’s something important, I’ll tell you, okay?”
The shorter boy only nodded but Asahi’s smile must have looked good enough, natural enough because the libero only grinned back after a moment of silence.
“I trust you, Asahi! I’m just—worried. If you say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing! Come back to the court and hit some spikes with Ryuu later, okay?!”
He nodded and Nishinoya made his way back to the other side of the court, the group becoming loud once more. It’s only when he’s sure Nishinoya wasn’t going to turn around that Asahi finally glanced at his still stinging hands. The crescent shaped dips in his palms were pink with just a few drops of blood here and there where nail broke through skin.
He had been so close to saying it all out, to sharing what he had been thinking about ever since that night with the one person he didn’t want to hurt the most but would be hurt the most by it. Who would want someone like Asahi thinking of them like that anyways? Especially when someone was as charismatic as Nishinoya who could have anyone?
And he was nothing but a liar. He couldn’t even be truthful to himself or his closest friend. He didn’t deserve the chance when even Asahi understood the only thing stopping him was the fear of losing everything. He couldn’t even trust in Nishinoya enough to believe that their friendship would at least survive if he shared his deepest thoughts and his sincere desire of him.
No, it was easier to keep it to himself. He could keep going like this and let it sink in enough until the sharp jolts of pain and lack of air turned into just a soft ache and a shallow cough. He could do this.
After all, Asahi had always been cowardly and if it meant keeping Nishinoya safe from himself, then he didn’t mind adding another notch for the many instances he acted like one.
FILL: Team Fukutomi Juichi/Kinjou Shingo, M
Additional warnings: mentions of drowning as metaphor, angst, sexual content
Word count: 1,520
Some people had it easy, finding themselves in a relationship that bloomed out of something as small and ordinary like a love letter in their locker. A confession at the back of the school or under a tree out of sight except for the two individuals— in high school, a story like that was expected and quite honestly, hoped for. But love was a fickle, fickle thing. Asahi knew this best because he was constantly reminded of everything he wanted and everything he was too scared to touch every time he catches sight of Nishinoya.
"Ah, Kiyoko-san! Kiyoko-san!!“
Today like always, he watched from the sidelines as Tanaka and Nishinoya hurried over to their manager. She was barely flustered as always, firm in her rejection to their affection with a shake of her head while also always appreciative of their efforts. She never lied or pretended to believe something she didn’t. She was gentle and soft but so very sincere.
She was so very unlike Asahi, who cowered immediately when he found himself in an unfamiliar place. Enough to the point where watching her interactions with Nishinoya made him envious and horrifying upset at himself because it really shouldn’t be that hard to stand up for what he wants.
But Asahi was unable to breathe or even act normally in front of Nishinoya anymore. From the moment his realized that he had liked the other boy and not in the way Tanaka or the Hinata and Tobio duo did, he had found himself clenching his fist over his chest. The cotton fabric of his shirt, drenched with sweat from the act and from the immediate cold sweat formed from anxiety, twisted under his fingers as he started down at the mess on his other hand. He had wiped himself off on the same shirt and then rushed himself out of his bedroom to the laundry room with it, heart thumping painfully against his ribs as he threw the shirt into the washer.
The cold water and detergent had erased the evidence of what he had done but no amount of washing and cleaning and distraction had managed to erase the flitting thoughts he had of Nishinoya.
And it was those exact thoughts that had Asahi shrinking further into himself. It didn’t matter if he was helping to pick up stray volleyballs from the court or when he was using the broom to polish the floor before the team headed out for the night. Every time he heard Nishinoya’s voice or saw a glimpse of him from the corner of his eyes (he was too afraid to look straight onto the other man now), Asahi thought of how he would look sprawled on the mess that was his sheets—how Nishinoya would look with parted lips, eyes hazy and wide from pleasure, and Asahi’s larger palm pressing down against the slight dip of his back.
Needless to say, Asahi avoided looking and being near Nishinoya as much as possible, to the point where he even volunteered to do small errand runs just to get out of the court when he really should be practicing with the rest of them. Such as cleaning volleyballs, which he was doing on the bench while watching the rest of the time practice halfheartedly.
“Asahi?”
But it’s definitely better to stay on the bench and avoid saying anything to Nishinoya until he was able to act normal again.
“Asahi—“
And even if it was shameful to admit to himself, it was easier too. He didn’t have to think about it if he didn’t have to be in a place that prompted his mind to wander.
“A—SA—HI!”
“Wah!”
The volleyball dropped from between his hands and rolled off to the center of the court. Asahi fumbled to stand up but was made to stay where he was, a pair of small hands coming down to press firmly against his shoulders.
“Are you okay, Asahi? You look sort of sad.”
He didn’t need to look up to know who it was in front of him. There was no way to forget the sound of Nishinoya’s voice and touch when they’ve been just as strong of a team together as the team itself was with everyone else. Asahi swallowed, hands coming together instinctively as if the bigger boy was afraid of what he would do if he didn’t keep them busy.
“Ah—ah, Nishinoya. I’m just, thinking?”
“Thinking about what?” Nishinoya folded his arms over his chest and Asahi felt sweat slowly dripping its way down the back of his neck and into the collar of his shirt.
“Thi—things?”
“What things?” The questioning continued and Asahi leaned back, head bowing so his eyes could find solace with the floor.
“N-Nothing important,” he insisted. Nothing he could say at least.
“—You know you can talk to me if you need to right, Asahi?” It wasn’t the words that made him look up but the tone used. Soft, a little tearful. Worry. Confusion. And a hint of something that he can’t quite understand. When their eyes finally met, it became a little harder to breathe. It was as if the air around him had turned to water and Asahi was the only one without an oxygen mask. He can’t cross that line—he really can’t afford the price of that passageway. The knowledge doesn’t stop him from considering the possibility though.
“We’ve been friends for so long—” Nishinoya sounded so far away even when Asahi was just right there. If he reached out, he could just pull the other boy into arms and squeeze. There were only jerseys between the two of them and wouldn’t it be a lovely secret if he could slip a hand up and brush bare skin just to see if dreams were truly just as good as reality? Asahi breathed out shallowly, eyes widening but vision only focusing on Nishinoya’s face.
Soft looking lips, especially sweet when plumped out in a pout—no doubt just as sweet when wrapped around a cock. A small tongue, sweet and glistening pink, that barely matched the smart comments that would sincerely and brutally be said every so often but would be the source of the best and most teasing of pressures.
“And friends don’t hide things from friends, right? I can handle it, Asahi, so you can always depend on me.”
“No!”
The shock on Nishinoya’s face, splayed out for the world to see in the slight parted ‘o’ of his lips and the furrow of his brow, acted like cold water on Asahi along with the sharp stings to his palms. Asahi pushed himself off the bench, immediately fumbling for some excuse or another.
“It—It’s honestly nothing important. You don’t,” he paused, hesitant, before forcing a smile onto his face and scratching at the base of his neck with a hand. “You don’t need to worry, Nishinoya. If it’s something important, I’ll tell you, okay?”
The shorter boy only nodded but Asahi’s smile must have looked good enough, natural enough because the libero only grinned back after a moment of silence.
“I trust you, Asahi! I’m just—worried. If you say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing! Come back to the court and hit some spikes with Ryuu later, okay?!”
He nodded and Nishinoya made his way back to the other side of the court, the group becoming loud once more. It’s only when he’s sure Nishinoya wasn’t going to turn around that Asahi finally glanced at his still stinging hands. The crescent shaped dips in his palms were pink with just a few drops of blood here and there where nail broke through skin.
He had been so close to saying it all out, to sharing what he had been thinking about ever since that night with the one person he didn’t want to hurt the most but would be hurt the most by it. Who would want someone like Asahi thinking of them like that anyways? Especially when someone was as charismatic as Nishinoya who could have anyone?
And he was nothing but a liar. He couldn’t even be truthful to himself or his closest friend. He didn’t deserve the chance when even Asahi understood the only thing stopping him was the fear of losing everything. He couldn’t even trust in Nishinoya enough to believe that their friendship would at least survive if he shared his deepest thoughts and his sincere desire of him.
No, it was easier to keep it to himself. He could keep going like this and let it sink in enough until the sharp jolts of pain and lack of air turned into just a soft ache and a shallow cough. He could do this.
After all, Asahi had always been cowardly and if it meant keeping Nishinoya safe from himself, then he didn’t mind adding another notch for the many instances he acted like one.