Work Text:
You don’t owe anyone anything, Sato-chan.
I know that, Tōkkun. I know that, but still, I feel terrible for those who want to live, when all I want is to die.
Tōru sighed a little, cracking his neck, wondering what he should say next. He couldn’t help the flood of thoughts in his head- he had so many words, so many thoughts he wanted to share with Satori, but he was afraid that they wouldn’t come out right. He had a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth, to the point that he gets in trouble for his own words sometimes.
Sato-chan, I’ll tell you right now that most people will disappoint you in life, including yourself. Lower your expectations. Don’t live for someone but don’t die for them either- they’ll probably leave anyways.
Tōkkun-
No, Satori, listen to me. We’ve both had countless people make promises and act like they’re going to keep them only for them to use our own words and feelings against us. Aren’t you tired of it? I’m not saying to do anything drastic, but don’t be overly self-preserving to appease anyone else. Have some fun.
Can I come over?
Of course. Bring your board and the bag.
Tōru hung up after a quick goodbye, tugging at his long hair in order to pull it into a loose ponytail. He sniffed his shirt to make sure he didn’t smell as awful as he felt, and he slipped on his shoes.
Satori and Tōru had this routine where they would meet up, skate to the park in Tōru’s neighborhood, and get as high and drunk as possible. They’d talk for hours on end, staring at the sky, wondering what their place in this life was, or if they had been born out of pure coincidence.
They found solace in each other, strangely enough, considering their old friends hated each other. That didn’t matter now, of course, with Iwaizumi off studying in America and Ushijima claiming volleyball and public image were more important than “a silly high school friendship.”
When Satori texted Tōru, he grabbed his keys and board before making his way downstairs. He was on the third floor of his apartment building, much to his dismay, so it took him a couple minutes before he was swallowed in the embrace of his lanky best friend.
Ready, Sato-chan?
Always, Tōkkun .
The skate to the park was a quiet one, save for the clinking of the bottles in the backpack Satori wore. They got there in less than fifteen minutes, cigarette only half finished and dangling from Tōru’s lips. He came to a stop next to the redhead, who promptly grabbed his hand and dragged him to the usual spot, on top of some playground equipment. They climbed to the top and laid back, bottle of grapefruit vodka already in Satori’s hand and a now-finished cigarette being flicked away by Tōru.
They laid in their usual position, legs tangled lazily and Tōru’s head on Satori’s chest, passing a blunt between each other and laughing when vodka spilled out of Tōru’s lips. They stayed like this, in a comfortable emptiness, until Tōru spoke up.
You know, Satocchi, if you’re not actually real, then you’re the best thing I’ve ever dreamed up.
Satori blushed and laughed at this, grateful for the darkness of the night as it swallowed every ounce of colour save for the shock of his hair.
You’re a perfect arrangement of atoms, Tōkkun.
It was Tōru’s turn to blush, choosing to bury his face into his best friend’s chest. They had been at the park for hours, the sun already rising, but Tōru didn’t want Satori to leave again, like he always had to. He feared the worst every time they parted ways- Tōru had a nagging feeling that Satori would leave him just like everyone else had, be it of his own volition or not.
Hey Satocchi, instead of going home tonight, can you come over?
I thought you’d never ask, Tōkkun.
The ride back to Tōru’s apartment seems to drag on much too long, an air of anticipation and tension strung between the pair. It was so thick that it couldn’t be cut by a knife, much different from the way they typically were, all loose and carefree, for lack of a better word.
Tōru kicked off of his board before making his way up the stairs, Satori following closely behind him. He failed at unlocking his own door three times, whether from nerves or the fact he was nowhere near sober he was unsure. He finally unlocked it, holding the door open for Satori.
The lanky redhead followed Tōru inside, kicking off his shoes and hanging his jacket by the door before he was led to the living room. Tōru gently nudged him towards the couch, climbing between his legs in an attempt to wrap his arms around him and cuddle as such. Satori’s fingers quickly found their way to Tōru’s hair, mussing up his long waves but Tōru remained unbothered. Tōru pressed a light, gentle kiss to the scar on the inside of Satori’s left arm, the one in the crook of his elbow, the one he had never gotten an explanation for.
Sattochi?
Tōru, come here.
Satori pulled Tōru up by his arms, pressing their chests together, laying the brunette directly on top of him. He cupped both of Tōru’s cheeks, swiping a finger over his bottom lip, staring into the sad brown eyes in front of him.
You’re beautiful.
This time Tōru had nowhere to hide, his blush being caressed by Satori’s surprisingly gentle hands. He bit his bottom lip until Satori brushed his thumb along it again, when he parted them slightly and stared into the redhead’s.
C-can I kiss you, Satori?
The response was not a verbal one; rather, Satori leaned forward just a bit and gently brushed his lips against Tōru’s, his touch electrifying and the flutter of Tōru’s eyelashes against his own cheeks whispering every word the two couldn’t bring themselves to mutter.
It was Tōru who deepened the kiss, thousands of hours of emotions pouring into Satori’s mouth, eager to taste every confession and revelation. The two seemed to lock together perfectly- they had both been nostalgic for something that was never theirs yet here they found themselves, dripping with every wish they’d ever made to the same night sky.
Satori pulled back for air mere seconds before kissing along Tōru’s jaw, nipping gently and sucking when he got to the patch of skin between his ear and his mandible, eliciting a soft sigh. Their lips met again, more frantic this time, a million promises they’d made not only to each other but themselves and everyone they’d ever met and everyone they’d yet to meet.
They were molded together, the unlikely pair, by a force so strong that nothing imaginable could break it, and they were content. They weren’t happy, but they found a comfort they’d always been too scared to search for in fear that it would be ripped from them.
They would be okay, as long as they had each other.