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“is it nice?”
osamu draws his knees up to his chest. “is that really what ya wanna ask me? you can ask anything, ya know.”
“they giving you good food there?”
osamu barks out a laugh. suna loves the sound. he wishes he could make it too. “yeah. best ever.”
“not better than yours, probably.”
“ya miss my cooking?”
suna can’t bring himself to look at osamu. he keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon and pretends there aren’t tears streaming down his cheeks. “more than anything.”
“hey.” osamu’s hand is feather light on his shoulder, but he feels it nonetheless. “ya can’t miss me too much.”
“don’t you miss me too?”
osamu pulls his hand off his shoulder. he doesn’t reply right away, which is cruel. they don’t have long before he disappears again. finally, he feels a different light weight on his shoulder; he feels the faintest tickle of hair against his neck and realizes osamu is resting his head on his shoulder. “i miss ya more than anything.”
suna lets out one sob—only one, it was bubbling in his throat and he couldn’t help it. osamu makes a small sound and says “don’t, baby. don’t cry.”
“how could i not cry?” suna says. more sobs are coming. “this is hard.” suna’s hands are clenched tightly in his own lap. osamu reaches over and places his own hand over them. suna still doesn’t look at him. he wouldn’t be able to take the sight.
osamu is dead.
specifically, osamu has been dead for a year, down to the very day. suna remembers it too well—the call he received during practice, the rush to the hospital, the weight of osamu’s hand in his own as he died. suna had been there. suna had wept bitter tears at his bedside until someone took him away.
one year since the accident. one year since he lost his soulmate.
the universe isn’t completely cruel, though (just mostly). once a year, on the anniversary of your soulmate’s death, they can visit you. it’s a painful and bittersweet meeting, but hardly anyone can turn it away. those fleeting moments with your soulmate are always worth it, no matter how painful.
suna cannot turn to look the ghostly apparition in the eyes. he doesn’t want to see osamu pale and wan and....well, ghostly. he wants to remember him vibrantly, cheeks flushed pink and lips kiss-stained red and haired dyed silver and a person so full of color and life. the urge to see him again is strong, but suna’s desperate hold to that memory is stronger.
“ask me some more questions.”
“anyone you know there?”
“nah. gets lonely, but i can keep myself entertained.”
“with what?”
“i perfected my onigiri recipe.”
suna lets out another sob. this one was supposed to be a laugh, but it got mixed up along the way. “this fucking hurts,” he whispers.
“i know it does,” osamu whispers back. “i know.”
“meet new friends up there?”
“a few. kinda weird that we bond over being dead.”
“that’s nice. you think i’ll go there when i die?”
osamu shifts against suna. “i don’t wanna see ya up there for a long while.”
“i’d see you every day.” suna isn’t really considering it; he has a life here. friends. a job he really enjoys. he’s not done with life just yet, but he misses osamu so fucking much. he won’t do it. he just wants to know what osamu would say.
“rin, i need ya to carry on my legacy.”
“of onigiri? no thanks.”
“no, of kickin’ ‘tsumu’s ass. you gotta be happier than him. yer gonna win that for me.”
another sob. pull yourself together. “really? you want me to do that for you?”
“don’t wanna see ya up here til it’s done.”
“and if i fail?”
“ya won’t.”
osamu’s unwavering faith in him, the fondness of his voice, the chill of his ghostly figure holding him in ways he hasn’t been held in so long; it all makes his chest ache so badly he doubles over, as if that will make it all go away.
when suna pulls himself together and uprights himself, osamu tightens his hold and starts talking again. “speaking of ‘tsumu, how is the bastard?”
he wants to protect osamu from the ugly truth, but honesty has always been the best policy with the miya twins. “he misses you a lot. he begged me to let him see you today.”
“and you said no?”
“i said that he should give me the first year. he can come all the years after this—i wanted this one.”
osamu huffs sadly. “he’s not over it yet?”
“i don’t think he’ll ever be.” suna traces two stick figures in the dirt next to him, then draws a line through one. “he’ll keep living, but he’ll never get over it. me neither, though.”
“aw, you two gettin’ along better now?”
they actually are. atsumu was the only person in the world who understood the agony suna felt. after all, suna was pretty sure the twins had split one soul in the womb. they’d both lost their other half that day, and he and atsumu had cried together over the loss more times than suna could count. it was easier to be friends after that; to have someone to go get dinner and drinks with whenever one of them had a bad night. someone who understood why the other wasn’t over it months after the accident.
suna’s simple reply is, “yeah. we are.”
“that’s good to hear,” osamu replies. he pauses, then says, “i have to go soon.”
“please,” suna whimpers. “please.”
“i would stay if i could.”
“you can’t go again. i can’t do another year of this.”
osamu’s hand is ghosting all over his body—not in a sexual way; the two have no way to do that anymore, since osamu is dead. it’s in a way that tells suna he’s trying to remember the dips and curves of his body, so the memory can sustain him for another year while they wait. “you can do this,” osamu whisperers as his cold hand slides up suna’s arm, “yer so strong. you can handle this.”
“i’m not strong enough.” suna can’t hold it in anymore. he sobs; a guttural and heart wrenching sound, and he reaches for osamu’s ghostly hand with his own. he can hardly feel the weight of it, but it’s there. he grips it so tightly he’d cut off blood circulation if it was there. “i’m not strong enough for this, ‘samu. don’t go, please.”
“it’s out of my control.” osamu lifts his head from suna’s shoulder and peppers kisses across his face, leaving them across his jaw, his cheek, his temple, but suna never turns to look at him. the kisses are cold, nothing like the warm ones he used to give suna that left embarrassing bruises on his neck for his teammates to mock. osamu presses a lingering kiss to suna’s neck and says, “i love ya. i love ya so much and i’ll love ya forever.”
another sob rips its way out of suna’s throat, and he nods. “it’s not goodbye,” osamu says, “i’ll see ya again in a year. maybe ‘tsumu, too.”
“maybe,” suna gasps out. “maybe.”
“and before i forget!” osamu continues to kiss all over him, mumbling words between each kiss and into his skin. “i don’t want ya to stay single forever. yer young. you should find someone and fall in love.”
“i can only love you.” it takes extreme willpower to keep his head forward, but that will is slipping. one glance couldn’t hurt, right? “you’re my soulmate.”
“but you can still find love.” more cold kisses. suna hates them, but he can’t get enough. “what about kita-san? his soulmate has been dead his whole life. he’d be a nice date.”
“stop trying to set me up from beyond the grave!” suna laughs and cries at once, and the sound has osamu wrapping his arms around suna and pulling him in close. suna closes his eyes so he can’t see the ghostly apparition he’s pressing up again.
“‘m just saying,” osamu says in his ear, “you deserve to be happy.”
“i know.”
“hey, rin?”
“yeah?”
“will ya look at me?”
suna keeps his head in osamu’s chest. he can’t. it’ll hurt too bad. only a little while longer and he’ll be okay. he keeps the image of warm, vibrant osamu in his mind.
“yer thinking that ya wanna remember me when i was alive, right?” suna jumps. osamu always was frighteningly perceptive. “you can remember both, ya know. i wanna see yer eyes again.”
suna takes a deep breath, steels himself, and looks up.
he’s nose to nose with the love of his life, whose eyes sparkle with unshed tears. the sight makes suna sob again, an ugly sob that twists his face and sounds horribly pitiful. osamu desperately uses his cold ghost fingers to wipe them away. “rin. sunarin. rintarou. i love ya so much.”
“i love you too,” suna gasps, “so much.”
osamu grabs suna’s cheeks and kisses him. he kisses him so hard that suna can almost ignore the ice cold touch of his lips and the fact that they taste like nothing. it’s an awful kiss, but it’s osamu he’s kissing, so he devours it like none other. he doesn’t dare pull away until he feels osamu sinking away from him, disappearing for another year.
suna doesn’t know what to say, so he cries again. osamu’s hands stayed pressed upon his cheeks, but he can hardly feel them. he’s almost gone.
“i’ll be back,” osamu says. “i’ll always come back.”
“you better,” suna cries. “or i’ll never forgive you. you better come see me every year or i’ll kill you!”
osamu nods. he’s beautiful, in a morbid, ghostly way. their hands reach for each other, but suna can’t feel anything and then osamu is gone. again.
his cries from before are nothing compared to now. he screams and cries and wails and beats his fists on the ground. he shouts about the unfairness of it all until his voice is hoarse and he cries until he’s got no more tears left.
he flops on the ground, gasping for air and anything he can get. he hurts so bad. he can’t drive back to town like this. he can’t even bring himself to move. so he won’t, for a little while. he’ll just lay here.
his phone buzzes with a call from atsumu, and he hits ignore. not yet. not now.
but he does grab his phone and open kita’s contact. they don’t necessarily have to date, right? suna can just call him. maybe kita can help him feel less empty. he can talk to kita. as friends. maybe they can be more later.
it’s not cheating on osamu, or moving on. he’ll always love osamu. he will always be his soulmate.
but he can be happy here, until he joins him in the next life. that’s what he keeps telling himself as he psychs himself up to call kita, and then he does it.
“suna.” kita doesn’t even have the decency to sound surprised. “it’s nice to hear from ya.”
“yeah,” suna croaks. he cringes at his own voice and says, “he just left.”
kita understands immediately. “are ya alright?”
“no.”
“i understand. the first is always the hardest.”
“how did you do it?” suna swallows hard, then continues, “you lost your soulmate before you even met him. how do you deal with it?”
kita pauses thoughtfully before replying, “it’s hard to move on.”
“it really is.”
“would ya like to come over and talk about it? i’ll make tea and dinner for ya.”
somewhere, from heaven above or wherever osamu was, he was watching suna with a smile. this, suna was sure of.
“sure, kita-san. i’d love that.”