Tayla_19
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Kiyoomi laughs, the sound louder than usual because today isn’t about running away, not anymore, not when he’s at an arm’s length, not when he’s speaking so tenderly, with his hands wrapped around Kiyoomi’s ankles as he pulls him down, down, down until they’re both drowning in the rich blue sea. Their fingers, calloused and bruised, flip over a notebook’s page where Atsumu has poured out his heart, where he wrote about the tenderness in his voice when they’re alone, the eyes that shine just for him, the chapped lips that would, one day, feel so soft against his neck, against every bit of skin he could find and ah, ah, ah, ah, Kiyoomi wishes, he wishes hard, he wants and wants and wants and he knows it will be futile to persevere, knows it will be futile to dream but he does it anyway because there’s nothing else in the world he’s ever wanted this much.
or: through the window, the truth still speaks. not a thing can erase the music they share.
(or, better yet, how atsumu writes songs about kiyoomi and kiyoomi remains oblivious to the very last minute.)
translated to russian here!
- Language:
- English
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- 6,028
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Bookmarked by Tayla_19
24 Sep 2023
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“How are ya feelin’?” he asked because Kiyoomi’s health came first.
“I'm… panicking and nervous but also happy and, god, you look really good today… like you always look good but you look really good today,” Kiyoomi said, all in one breath.
He then proceeded to hit his head against the door.
This… this wasn’t a normal Tuesday at all.
Or: truth serum fic! (which is not actually truth serum but... you'll see)
Bookmarked by Tayla_19
21 Dec 2021