no spoilers/major warnings | 750 words oh man this prompt made me so sad akjhakjwhe ;; t-thank you...!(??) ;U; ahaha
*
the thing was, kunimi knew and had always known that kindaichi was kind of stupid. an intense kind of guy. passionate. dedicated. the type to try and try and try (and usually win, but definitely keep trying even if he didn't). stupid.
the thing was, as they stood there eye to (almost) eye in the emptied clubroom, toe to scuffed rubber toe, kunimi couldn't be sure when exactly he'd started finding that stupidity idiotic as opposed to endearing. when had his mind come to decide that kindaichi's intensity was an irritant, that his passion was suffocation, that his dedication was an utter waste of time?
at which point over the years had kunimi become sick of hearing kindaichi call out to him? at which point had he started to sigh inwardly and think, what now, instead of hello i like you.
he had no idea.
"kunimi," kindaichi said. his hands held kunimi's wrists, gentle (restricting) and placating (patronizing). the calluses on those palms of his, those fingers, each their own mark of hard work and a tribute to victory, grated against kunimi's skin.
"kunimi... are you alright?"
am i. kunimi wondered. have i ever been.
what kind of person (lazy, self-centred) let himself get with a guy like kindaichi (proud, aware, social, grounded) out of mere convenience, just because he had been there and been asked? who accepted a confession (earnest, nervous, honest to a fault) just because he liked the guy well enough and a rejection would just cause tension?
kunimi, apparently.
kindaichi's brilliant smile had been a bonus back then. now it just felt like pressure, pressure, pressure.
but wasn't kindaichi the bigger fool for asking for it?
they've known each other for years. kindaichi knows what kunimi is like just as well as kunimi knows what kunimi is like. (he knows kindaichi too.) and yet all kunimi can see when kindaichi looks at him are eyes that say bring it on. i'll take it.
kunimi had actually tried, for a while, in that utmost least effort way in which he always did anything. tried to shy away, no drama; to make kindaichi like him a little less.
he definitely, at some point, started to selectively reply to whatever kindaichi messaged him. if it wasn't important, it was ignored. if it was important, kunimi's reply would be more monosyllabic than usual.
kindaichi had probably noticed (in all honesty he was stupid but not especially dense); however, if kunimi had ever seemed in a mood, kindaichi's eyes had only ever remained sympathetic (stubborn) and sure.
"are you okay?"
kunimi's book of deliberate distancing didn't cover the asinine dedication of idiots. he didn't know how else to shake kindaichi's dauntless confidence, how else to unravel the baselessly strong belief that kunimi still liked him back beneath it all, and would forever.
forever was such a very long time, and kunimi could barely remember what he'd had for breakfast any given day much less the method with which he'd accidentally somehow made kindaichi fall in(to some semblance of) love so that he could undo its effects.
it was impossible.
more than the impossibility of it was the bother. kunimi was, frankly, allergic to bother. but the path of least resistance was the path he was already on: they were together at school and together for club, together on the way home, together when they studied for tests and together for spiking practice.
more than the inconvenience of mere bother, kunimi couldn't stand the thought of friction.
and so it didn't take much to not pull his hand away from kindaichi's familiar grip; to murmur an mmn nothing against his mouth when their studies were done for the night and kindaichi asked what was on kunimi's mind. it was so much easier to not avoid kindaichi in the locker rooms after court cleanup and just walk the same path home together the way they always had since becoming acquainted halfway through some unremarkable year at kitagawa daiichi.
kunimi wasn't even sure what he disliked anymore. it seemed to be this idea of a guy that kindaichi wasn't, because kindaichi was everything a friend and partner could ask for. and yet, here kunimi was. resenting him.
maybe he was messed up after all. maybe he wasn't okay. maybe he'd snap out of it one day and smile at kindaichi like he wanted to—like kindaichi deserved to see. but that day was not today.
kunimi closed his eyes and rested his head on kindaichi's shoulder. "it's nothing," he mumbled, hollow and tired and unsure if he meant it. "i'm fine."
FILL: TEAM YOWAMUSHI PEDAL, G
oh man this prompt made me so sad akjhakjwhe ;; t-thank you...!(??) ;U; ahaha
*
the thing was, kunimi knew and had always known that kindaichi was kind of stupid. an intense kind of guy. passionate. dedicated. the type to try and try and try (and usually win, but definitely keep trying even if he didn't). stupid.
the thing was, as they stood there eye to (almost) eye in the emptied clubroom, toe to scuffed rubber toe, kunimi couldn't be sure when exactly he'd started finding that stupidity idiotic as opposed to endearing. when had his mind come to decide that kindaichi's intensity was an irritant, that his passion was suffocation, that his dedication was an utter waste of time?
at which point over the years had kunimi become sick of hearing kindaichi call out to him? at which point had he started to sigh inwardly and think, what now, instead of hello i like you.
he had no idea.
"kunimi," kindaichi said. his hands held kunimi's wrists, gentle (restricting) and placating (patronizing). the calluses on those palms of his, those fingers, each their own mark of hard work and a tribute to victory, grated against kunimi's skin.
"kunimi... are you alright?"
am i. kunimi wondered. have i ever been.
what kind of person (lazy, self-centred) let himself get with a guy like kindaichi (proud, aware, social, grounded) out of mere convenience, just because he had been there and been asked? who accepted a confession (earnest, nervous, honest to a fault) just because he liked the guy well enough and a rejection would just cause tension?
kunimi, apparently.
kindaichi's brilliant smile had been a bonus back then. now it just felt like pressure, pressure, pressure.
but wasn't kindaichi the bigger fool for asking for it?
they've known each other for years. kindaichi knows what kunimi is like just as well as kunimi knows what kunimi is like. (he knows kindaichi too.) and yet all kunimi can see when kindaichi looks at him are eyes that say bring it on. i'll take it.
kunimi had actually tried, for a while, in that utmost least effort way in which he always did anything. tried to shy away, no drama; to make kindaichi like him a little less.
he definitely, at some point, started to selectively reply to whatever kindaichi messaged him. if it wasn't important, it was ignored. if it was important, kunimi's reply would be more monosyllabic than usual.
kindaichi had probably noticed (in all honesty he was stupid but not especially dense); however, if kunimi had ever seemed in a mood, kindaichi's eyes had only ever remained sympathetic (stubborn) and sure.
"are you okay?"
kunimi's book of deliberate distancing didn't cover the asinine dedication of idiots. he didn't know how else to shake kindaichi's dauntless confidence, how else to unravel the baselessly strong belief that kunimi still liked him back beneath it all, and would forever.
forever was such a very long time, and kunimi could barely remember what he'd had for breakfast any given day much less the method with which he'd accidentally somehow made kindaichi fall in(to some semblance of) love so that he could undo its effects.
it was impossible.
more than the impossibility of it was the bother. kunimi was, frankly, allergic to bother. but the path of least resistance was the path he was already on: they were together at school and together for club, together on the way home, together when they studied for tests and together for spiking practice.
more than the inconvenience of mere bother, kunimi couldn't stand the thought of friction.
and so it didn't take much to not pull his hand away from kindaichi's familiar grip; to murmur an mmn nothing against his mouth when their studies were done for the night and kindaichi asked what was on kunimi's mind. it was so much easier to not avoid kindaichi in the locker rooms after court cleanup and just walk the same path home together the way they always had since becoming acquainted halfway through some unremarkable year at kitagawa daiichi.
kunimi wasn't even sure what he disliked anymore. it seemed to be this idea of a guy that kindaichi wasn't, because kindaichi was everything a friend and partner could ask for. and yet, here kunimi was. resenting him.
maybe he was messed up after all. maybe he wasn't okay. maybe he'd snap out of it one day and smile at kindaichi like he wanted to—like kindaichi deserved to see. but that day was not today.
kunimi closed his eyes and rested his head on kindaichi's shoulder. "it's nothing," he mumbled, hollow and tired and unsure if he meant it. "i'm fine."