Yeonlu
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“Hey, Bo. Do you like oranges?”
He watches as Bokuto chuckles at the sudden question, and he watches when he pauses to think. “Well,” the athlete says, “I don’t always eat it. I’m not big on tangy fruits, but I do like how it smells. It’s my favorite!”
Keiji hums.
“Do you like oranges?” Bokuto asks in return, and Keiji blames the alcohol—blames the cold and the numbness when he sputters an immediate response: “Yeah, I do.”
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Akaashi Keiji is perpetually tired, just as how his to-do list doesn't seem to end. So, excuse him if he forgets to eat the protein bar, if he types on his laptop like a maniac—excuse him if he accidentally picks up the wrong jacket.
Bookmarked by Yeonlu
24 Sep 2025
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Sakusa trusts his instincts. His instincts never fail him; he can't really put into words what bothers him so much about the man in his thirties sitting across from him, next to Atsumu, his hand resting on his thigh.
He can't name what he's feeling, he can't explain or prove why.
But he trusts his instincts; and, right now, his entire body is sending him signals to flee, to escape while there is still time, to run away before the cataclysm.
Bookmarked by Yeonlu
06 Sep 2025