Chapter Text
The sun was setting beyond the line that separates the realm of light and that of shadows.
It was setting alone.
It would have been a moonless night.
At that moment the major gods were gathered in council. Within a few hours they would find a replacement, someone to give the night to.
Atsumu didn’t want to, couldn't, participate. Why should he? It didn’t matter who would take his place, because without Osamu the sky would no longer be the same, the moon would not shine in the same way.
Samu , he thought, why did you choose a mortal?
Atsumu was standing on a deserted beach somewhere on the shores of the cosmos. In front of him the colors of day mingled on a palette of infinity, generating shades to which humans wouldn’t be able to assign a name. In front of him, sea waves embraced the coast, merging in a kiss of sand and salt. Before him, the last ray of sun drowned beyond the confines of the earth.
And the world mourned the moon.
The wind groaned with pain.
Darkness swallowed up life.
And Atsumu said farewell.
…
From the very beginning of their short existence, mortals had associated dawn with new beginnings. Atsumu had never understood this comparison. After all, gods don’t have a date of birth and one of expiration, gods were, are, and will always be (unless they decide not to be, unless they fall).
Immortals didn’t really need to breathe, but they could.
Immortals didn’t really need to sleep, but they could.
Immortals didn’t really need to understand mortals, but they could.
And that day Atsumu decided to understand.
There is something unique about the first breath of the morning, something that differentiates it from the breaths taken unconsciously during sleep, in the same way waking up and opening your eyes are two completely different concepts, they travel on parallel lines and that meet only when a mortal realizes what it means to be alive.
For humans, waking up means to be born again every day.
That day, for Atsumu, waking up meant comprehending how not even timeless creatures like gods could escape the flow of time. Because when he decided to open his eyes and point them upwards, he noticed that the abyss of darkness that the sky was supposed to be…was alive.
And the world was asleep.
The clouds were having fun dancing with the stars.
The moon was shining.
And Atsumu had work to do.
...
The sun was rising beyond the line that separates the realm of warmth from that of cold.
But the difference between the two is thin when you can’t feel them.
"So it’s you?"
"Yes"
"Why?"
There was no bitterness in his tone, there could have been, there should have been, but Atsumu had nothing to offer but indifference.
"Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting it"
Atsumu turned to look at him.
Sakusa wore the night in the same way Atsumu wore the colors of morning, his skin had the same shades of moonlight, his eyes were black, pools of oblivion in which any mortal would get lost, risking drowning, and they were surrounded by an equally dark eyeliner that helped sharpen his features. Many deities were afraid to cut themselves.
Not Atsumu, his chest was already bleeding.
"Why you?"
"Because I was the most suitable one"
For centuries Sakusa had been a minor god, he had reigned over darkness, shadows, terror. The passage to light had changed him, his colors were different, the moon had welcomed him in the same way it had once welcomed his brother.
Atsumu looked up at the sky, seeing that that little white celestial body was slowly fading away, and with it also the god before him, dissolving like the spectre of the night, dematerializing like the most distant stars.
"He made his choice. Don’t you think the least you can do for him is respect it?"
"Shut up" he whispered. Because it wasn’t the right time to talk about it, it would never be. Because there was no need to shout, not with someone like Sakusa, someone who understood the value of silence.
Atsumu wasn't mad at him. It wasn’t his fault. But it wasn’t Osamu’s fault either, right? Then maybe it was Atsumu’s. For letting his brother escape as the wind escapes between fingers, for being unable to accept that Osamu had wishes that were not compatible with eternity.
Sakusa said nothing. Atsumu did not turn to see if he was still there, his eyes were too busy getting lost beyond the horizon, where a part of his essence was concentrated.
The first ray of sun was red, just as, a short time ago, the last ray of moon had been.
...
They met at the beach.
Every day. Twice.
Sunrise and sunset.
A new beginning and a new end.
"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?"
"No"
Atsumu kept asking him every time, and every time the answer was a monosyllable indicating rejection.
Sakusa couldn't understand why Atsumu kept asking him. He initially thought it was part of his routine, a ritual he had performed for centuries together with his brother. But it was impossible for someone like Atsumu to share such a significant moment of his existence with him, wasn't it?
If Sakusa were him, he wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t want to contaminate the memory of someone so important to him.
It was clear that Atsumu was still clinging to the past, with the same tenacity with which humans cling to the hope that tomorrow can offer them.
The sun symbolizes that hope. But even the sun needs dreams to feed on.
It needs balance. A balance that only the moon can give. But when every certainty shatters, when dreams turn into nightmares, when the ground under your feet begins to dance, it is difficult to adapt to what becomes your new daily life.
Atsumu needed time.
And Sakusa was ready to wait.
After all, the moon had not rejected him. But it hadn't even embraced him in the same way its threads of light had intertwined with Osamu’s soul.
Sakusa knew he wasn’t just a substitute. Now he was the moon. He was the night. He was the sky full of stars.
Sakusa was enough to maintain the order of the cosmos.
But he would never be enough to fill the emptiness in Atsumu’s irises.
And that’s why he couldn’t say yes to him.
...
Little by little the taut lines of their lips had become slightly raised corners.
Atsumu wasn’t angry, he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t tired. Sakusa’s company was no longer a thorn, a burden that his shoulders and chest had to carry with resentment. The other god was a silent and quiet presence at his side, although he stood out in a different way than his brother: when Osamu's moon shone, people wanted to drink at the spring of its light; when Sakusa's moon was high in the sky, it shone as if it wanted to remind humans how far it was from them, how unattainable infinity was.
Atsumu would never get used to this change, but he was trying, he was trying everything he could.
After all, that was the beauty of stars, it was that that fascinated mortals more than anything else: the caress of the unreachable, longing for impossible.
"You know, Omi-kun, everyone loves ya" he said one day "they can relax and they feel free to be themselves with you" his tone was a stream of melancholy.
Sakusa stared at his face somewhere between Atsumu’s nose and forehead.
"You are really stupid, you know?"
Atsumu tilted his head "What?"
"They sleep waiting for you to come. They love you "
"Omi-kun" a pause "they can’t even look me in the eye. Ya know what they say? ‘Don't look at the sun or you'll go blind’ and also ‘don't get too close to the sun or you might end up getting burned’" his smile had a sad taste on his mouth.
"You give them hope. I only bring fear"
It was at that moment that Atsumu noticed it: Sakusa’s eyes were supposed to be as black as oblivion. But they were actually a green as dark as it was deep, an intense and seductive color, mysterious and alive. And if Atsumu had come any closer, he would have caught a glimpse of pure, palpitating violet brushstrokes.
Those were the eyes of the night.
They are beautiful , it was Atsumu’s first and last thought, before seeing them vanish.
That day the first ray of sun had the same color as a prairie at midnight.
…
It happened often that Sakusa turned a fleeting glance in the direction of the god of the sun.
That morning he saw how the faint light of dawn reflected on his cheeks, emphasizing the constellations of freckles on his tanned skin. He noticed how the wind delighted in twisting among the blond locks of his hair, how it played with the folds of his red robe, the same color of the eyeliner that surrounded his golden eyes.
Sakusa knew where they were looking.
Osamu.
Sakusa had never had a chance to meet him, but Atsumu had talked about him so much that he was under the impression he really knew him.
"Is he sleeping?" he asked.
"Yes" Atsumu replied with a slight smile, "He has always liked to sleep. I never understood why"
"Is he with him?"
"Yes"
Sakusa followed Atsumu’s gaze towards the earth and was able to distinguish two embraced figures on a bed full of cushions and affection. Their chests rose and fell slowly, their limbs were tangled together and their faces were serene, as if they had all the time in the world, as if eternity could do nothing against the flame that fused their souls together.
Is that what they call love?
"He looks happy"
"He is"
"You’re not"
"It doesn't matter"
"It should"
When Atsumu turned his head to observe him, Sakusa caught an echo of what could have been a smile on his lips.
But can you really call it a smile if it draws from a source that is not that of happiness?
Would humans be able to create a word to describe those moments when the corners of the mouth are pointing up, but the pupils can only look down?
Mortals liked to sculpt stone beings and call them gods. In fact, the two were very similar: cold, detached, immortalized inside the shell of time.
But there was one thing that Sakusa had noticed in many statues: their eyes were empty.
This too was a characteristic in common with the gods. Fire burns only in the eyes of those who understand the value of beginnings and ends. After all, fire is born to be extinguished, souls come to light to fade, flowers sprout to wither.
And mortals live to die.
And this awareness of death is their fuel, their firewood to be able to create.
Art is something so profoundly human.
Art is the only way that allows finite creatures to get closer to infinity.
Sakusa imagined that tragedy was a form of art too.
And Atsumu was a statue: his smile never reached his irises.
...
"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?"
"No"
…
"Wanna go for a walk?" Atsumu proposed.
"Okay"
And they walked, for as long as they could, they went forward and forward and forward and, from time to time, they looked back, even if it wasn’t necessary.
Immortals don’t need memories.
After all, living forever means seeing the past writhing in front of you until it becomes what it never was, a lie.
After all, living forever meant forgetting.
The beach was the most suitable example: no matter how many footprints we leave on the sand, the sea will always come to swallow them and everything will return as before, our passage will be deleted, it won't mean anything. We will become particles of oblivion.
Sometimes not even eternity can escape the rules of matter.
Sometimes every trace of us is eliminated. And there'll be nothing left of us.
The sea knew how to be cruel. But the view was breathtaking.
Maybe it was better to keep some memories.
Fighting the armies of time to keep them safe.
This was what Atsumu thought as his bare feet sank into the wet sand, as he watched the lazy waves of the evening break on the shoreline and remove every sign of him and the god at his side.
He took another look at the earth, where his brother was cooking some rice dish, the man who had brought a light different from that of the moon on his face was behind him, his arms encircled his waist, His fingers drew figures on Osamu’s skin, his dark hair tickled his neck.
And Atsumu knew that his memories had been erased and replaced with illusions of a life that had never been lived, he knew that Osamu had forgotten about him, but he couldn't help but wonder if sometimes his brother, too, felt the abyss that was expanding, fracturing the tissues of his soul, if even his mortal bones felt the cold of an absence, if even his eyes rose to the night sky just to understand that the moon wasn't what it used to be.
But the answer to these questions would remain buried in the line of ashes and dust that separated perennial from temporary.
Because, if the wind blows in another direction, it doesn't cease to be wind.
Because, if the light changes color, it doesn't cease to be light.
Because, if the moon shines differently, it doesn't cease to be the moon.
He turned to Sakusa.
Sakusa tilted his head.
Atsumu contemplated the arch of his mouth, his long, dark eyelashes, his hair disheveled by the breeze.
I don’t want to forget , he thought just before disappearing.
…
"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?"
"No"
…
Atsumu couldn't visit his brother.
Among all the gifts the gods had, metamorphosis was not one of them. And it was strictly forbidden to confess to a mortal the truth about gods. So, unless Osamu didn't know what a mirror was, it was impossible for his twin brother to show up in front of him.
Once Atsumu had asked Sakusa to help him. And, after days of enduring his demands and whining, Sakusa had descended to earth.
"He said he thinks about the moon sometimes" Atsumu urged him to continue.
"He said the night is not the same anymore"
Atsumu’s face lit up for a few fleeting moments, Sakusa clearly saw the threads of hope stitching the scars that had opened in his irises.
Atsumu’s eyes were of the same colors as the shades of dawn: molten brown, with golden touches in the outermost circle, which surrounded them as the rays of light embraced the sun. Sakusa just had to slightly tilt his head to see some green reflections around the pupil and, when he blinked, he noticed the grey grains that swam inside them.
But that moment was as magnificent as it was ephemeral.
Because Atsumu knew that the memory of a memory is not always honest.
Because the distance that separates the sun from the earth cannot be diminished.
And because sometimes the moon stood between the two.
That’s what Sakusa was: an obstacle.
He lowered his gaze.
But Atsumu would have to deal with it. And that’s what he was going to tell him when he was suddenly interrupted before he could open his mouth.
"Omi-kun"
Sakusa felt a light touch on his cheek.
"There’s nothing wrong with you"
Sakusa knew that he didn’t need Atsumu’s approval, but he realized that, all this time, he had held his breath. He exhaled.
"I know" he said.
"Don’t touch me," he added after a while, driving Atsumu’s hand away. Trying to ignore its warmth.
Atsumu chuckled and raised his arms "What are you afraid of? The germs I can’t pass you because, clearly, gods don’t get sick?"
Sakusa nudged at him.
Maybe there was still hope.
...
"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?"
"Why do you always ask?"
"I don’t know, I like to believe that one day ya will say yes"
"And what will you do when, hypothetically, I will say yes?"
"Swim with ya, I guess"
…
Several times Atsumu had visited the earth.
He always went to places as close as possible to those where he had seen his brother. He approached Osamu’s friends' friends. He explored life on earth and the habits of mortals.
In particular, he spent a lot of time with Kita Shinsuke, a man with a sincere smile and kind eyes. Every now and then Atsumu was certain that they could see through the illusion of the flesh and into the impalpable particles that made up his being.
There were mortals like him. Endowed with a view beyond matter. But that didn't make Kita any less special.
I think I could fall in love with him , he thought every time Kita handed him a cup of tea prepared with the same meticulousness that he reserved for his fields (which he reserved for everything).
I want to fall in love with him , he thought when he watched him reap the fruits of months of work with the same smile with which he contemplated the sky.
I wish I could fall in love with him , he thought when Kita accompanied him to the door of his house, wishing him good night, ruffling his hair with the same hands with which, in his own way, he created miracles.
But his eyes always went back to the moon.
"Ya know, Omi-kun, you’re pretty arrogant" he said as he observed the night while lying on the sand.
He observed Sakusa’s forehead wrinkling and his facial features contorting in a confused and deadly expression at the same time "What do you mean?"
Atsumu pointed up "Ya want the sky all to yourself, and you let the stars accompany you to have witnesses of yer greatness, you enjoy showing everyone what they can’t have"
"Is that really how you see me?" a deep voice asked somewhere at his left. At some point Sakusa must have sat down. He must have missed it.
Atsumu shrugged his shoulders, hoping that Sakusa would settle for his silence.
"You are too, you know?" he finally replied.
Atsumu could have denied it. But he wanted to know "Why?"
"You like to be the only one to rule the sky, you don’t let anyone near you"
"How much longer are you going to lie to yourself?"
"How much longer are you going to hide inside your wounds?"
But before Atsumu could open his mouth to answer, Sakusa disappeared.
Leaving him alone with one more question to bury.
...
"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?"
"Maybe next time"
It wasn’t a no, it wasn’t a yes.
It was the thin thread that separates truth from falsehood, order and confusion, sunset and dawn and the night between the two.
It had the potential to be the beginning of a new era.
…
But it never would have been.
Because, that evening, Sakusa saw Kita Shinsuke accompany Atsumu to the door of his house, saw him smiling as he kissed his cheek gently, saw Atsumu’s shoulders stiff and relax, his eyes falling closed at the contact with the lips of that human who succeeded, even for a few moments, to relieve his pain.
He thought maybe there would never be a next time.
"What’s the matter, Omi-Omi?" asked Bokuto, the god of stars, to his right.
"I think I just got burned."
…
Atsumu didn’t believe in love.
It was connected to the essence of mortality.
Someone like him could never understand.
But eventually, whatever was between Kita Shinsuke and him was enough for him to give eternal life up.
Atsumu didn't think he loved him, not in the romantic sense of the word at least.
That morning no one would have witnessed dawn.
And black clouds would envelop the world in an embrace of tears.
It was with rain that the gods would cover the sky waiting for a new sun.
And it was in the rain that Sakusa and Atsumu met for the last time.
They weren't on the beach. No. That place was still pure and uncorrupted by the weight of goodbyes. And Atsumu wanted it to remain so.
They were in the middle of ruins. Broken trunks of ancient columns, high arches and pieces of stairs that got interrupted in all the wrong places.
"D'ya know, Omi-kun, why humans like ruins so much?"
"So they can earn a lot of money out of them" Sakusa replied in a flat tone. His eyes were a mirror image of the storm on their heads.
"That too. But there’s another reason"
Sakusa waited patiently for him to go on. Atsumu wondered if he, too, had begun to count the seconds of silence between them, the moments that let the irregular ticking of raindrops speak.
They were gods. They didn't need to feel either the cold or the water on their skin, they didn't need to scream to be heard above the roar of the heights.
That's why Atsumu whispered "It's the beauty of decadence, the grandeur of what is broken"
For even ash has its dignity.
Sakusa looked at him as if he didn't understand the point, but at the same time wanted to hear him speak forever (probably it was just his impression, he had always liked to delude himself to see what he wanted to see).
Atsumu bit his lower lip.
"Kiyoomi"
He saw the god of the moon batting his eyelashes, the sky's drops sliding on them, touching his face and creating extraordinary reflections on his diaphanous skin, caressing his lips.
And he wanted to know-
"Will you like me even when I’m broken?"
He took a step forward.
"Will you remember what I was?"
He reached out a hand.
"Will you visit me like mortals visit their ruins?"
He brushed his fingers on the cheek of the same god who once told him not to touch.
And it was fine.
He knew it because Sakusa didn't push him away, because he let his fingers trace indistinct shapes on his jaw, he closed his eyes when Atsumu grazed the skin next to his ear, he breathed in slowly when he realized that the sun was playing with the locks of his hair as dark as night.
So unfair as our lives follow patterns, but our feelings don't.
Atsumu didn't want to forget. Not this. Not the way in which the corners of Sakusa’s mouth were slightly raised, not the principle of dimples that made his ageless face infinitely younger.
"You’re an idiot" Sakusa told him, but his voice was shattered and his tone sad.
And Atsumu felt his arms trembling as they drew him to him. Sakusa was drawing him to himself.
The moon’s embrace was much warmer than anyone could imagine.
And Atsumu decided to dissolve into it.
At least until Sakusa said "You’ll forget about your brother, too, did you even think about it?"
Atsumu didn't let him go "We will meet again. One way or another, he and I always find the way back to each other"
Sakusa made a sound of assent.
And Atsumu didn't want to forget the sound of his voice, the green and purple hue of his eyes, the curve of a smile he had seen too few times.
"Atsumu"
"Yeah?" his head was buried in the folds of Sakusa’s robe.
"Ask me now. Ask me if I want to go for a swim with you"
You’re cruel .
"Why now?"
"Because in any case you won’t remember the answer"
You’re really cruel.
Atsumu smiled.
"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?"
He observed Sakusa’s mouth open to form the first letter of a monosyllable that had the potential to create universes.
But he dissolved before he could even grasp its vibration.
…
When, that night, Miya Atsumu startled awake in the bed he called his, the moon was shining red in the middle of a sky full of tears.