no archive warnings apply. lapslock. all underlined words are from adele’s “cold shoulder". remixed from intricacies’s BR3 fill. 426 words
oikawa-san is usually impatient with him. “it’s all in your head,” he frowns. “the things you think just don’t make sense.” he goes all coy, and tobio watches the blinds behind his eyes close.
(he’s learned the quality of pride from him, taken its lessons to heart. he doesn’t ask--never asks anything at all, merely for oikawa-san grace him with his cold shoulder. he can do everything else by himself, with that little scrap of attention. he can fight for the rest.)
these days, when tobio sees him, he makes him feel like he’s see-through. oikawa-san was always aware of how other people acted and felt. it was like a superpower, how he could render tobio transparent as glass. his words, made of knives, cut through to him just as easily. he always sees his doubts.
“your heart’s not in it,” he’ll frown. “and i guess i don’t keep you satisfied.” it’ll be after he pulls tobio apart, when he’s at his most vulnerable: after oikawa-san leaves bite marks on his skin and leaves him to an empty bed. maybe when he’s half-asleep, arms empty of oikawa-san’s body. tobio always sleeps on his side, in case oikawa-san will ever come back to press himself against him--but it’s always cold when he wakes.
the reply is already on tobio’s tongue; he’d like to say: don’t turn it around on me like it’s my fault. you know i know just how you feel--and i’m starting to find that i feel that way, too.
tobio pretends to stay asleep while oikawa-san drums gentle fingers against his ribcage, just above his heartbeat. when he leaves, rustling for clothes and clicking the door shut behind him, he opens his eyes. he’s waiting for the last of it: for oikawa-san to say, you’re wasting my time.
time and time again, tobio plays the role of fool--just for him. he doesn’t know anyone else he likes enough, knows enough to do this with, and doesn’t know if he could be this way with anyone else. it’s not love, it’s something sharper. it’s not hate, it’s something stronger. he clings to him, desperate to keep the shape of him just to know what he himself is, but it just isn’t sustainable. they burn each other too brightly, to the bone, for it to ever last.
tobio opens himself up for oikawa-san, for him to dig deep into him and mark him, inside-out. he craves him, inexplicably, incomprehensibly. but he does know how he plays. when oikawa-san kisses him, now, he closes his eyes, too.
FILL: TEAM AKAASHI KEIJI/BOKUTO KOUTAROU/KUROO TETSUROU, T
426 words
oikawa-san is usually impatient with him. “it’s all in your head,” he frowns. “the things you think just don’t make sense.” he goes all coy, and tobio watches the blinds behind his eyes close.
(he’s learned the quality of pride from him, taken its lessons to heart. he doesn’t ask--never asks anything at all, merely for oikawa-san grace him with his cold shoulder. he can do everything else by himself, with that little scrap of attention. he can fight for the rest.)
these days, when tobio sees him, he makes him feel like he’s see-through. oikawa-san was always aware of how other people acted and felt. it was like a superpower, how he could render tobio transparent as glass. his words, made of knives, cut through to him just as easily. he always sees his doubts.
“your heart’s not in it,” he’ll frown. “and i guess i don’t keep you satisfied.” it’ll be after he pulls tobio apart, when he’s at his most vulnerable: after oikawa-san leaves bite marks on his skin and leaves him to an empty bed. maybe when he’s half-asleep, arms empty of oikawa-san’s body. tobio always sleeps on his side, in case oikawa-san will ever come back to press himself against him--but it’s always cold when he wakes.
the reply is already on tobio’s tongue; he’d like to say: don’t turn it around on me like it’s my fault. you know i know just how you feel--and i’m starting to find that i feel that way, too.
tobio pretends to stay asleep while oikawa-san drums gentle fingers against his ribcage, just above his heartbeat. when he leaves, rustling for clothes and clicking the door shut behind him, he opens his eyes. he’s waiting for the last of it: for oikawa-san to say, you’re wasting my time.
time and time again, tobio plays the role of fool--just for him. he doesn’t know anyone else he likes enough, knows enough to do this with, and doesn’t know if he could be this way with anyone else. it’s not love, it’s something sharper. it’s not hate, it’s something stronger. he clings to him, desperate to keep the shape of him just to know what he himself is, but it just isn’t sustainable. they burn each other too brightly, to the bone, for it to ever last.
tobio opens himself up for oikawa-san, for him to dig deep into him and mark him, inside-out. he craves him, inexplicably, incomprehensibly. but he does know how he plays. when oikawa-san kisses him, now, he closes his eyes, too.