Work Text:
Songs:
The Prophecy โ Taylor Swift
loml โ Taylor Swift
The 30th โ Billie Eilish
All I Wanted โ Paramore
Apocalypse โ Cigarettes After Sex
Somebody Else โ The 1975
Glue Song โ beabadoobee
Another Love โ Tom Odell
Call It Fate, Call It Karma โ The Strokes
Scott Street โ Phoebe Bridgers
โญโโโโใฐโโโโโฆโโโโใฐโโโโโฎ
"I wasn't afraid of losing you.
I was afraid of realizing
I was never yours to lose."
โ Unknown
โฐโโโโใฐโโโโโงโโโโใฐโโโโโฏ
ย
Some people searched for answers.
Suna Rintarou usually searched for entertainment.
Usually, that meant watching Atsumu and Osamu argue over something completely pointless.
Usually, it meant recording moments that would annoy them later.
Usually, it meant sitting back and letting everyone else create chaos.
Because Suna was good at watching.
Not participating.
Watching.
He noticed things people didn't.
The way Kita sighed before Atsumu started complaining.
The way Aran always knew when the twins were about to start fighting.
The way Osamu pretended not to care when he actually cared the most.
Especially that.
Suna noticed Osamu.
He always had.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
"You're staring again."
Suna looked up.
Osamu was standing in front of him, holding a volleyball.
"Hm?"
"You heard me."
Suna glanced around the gym.
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"That's unfortunate."
Osamu stared at him.
"That's not a normal response."
"Neither are you."
"How does that even make sense?"
Suna shrugged.
"It doesn't."
Osamu sighed.
But he smiled.
Just slightly.
And Suna noticed.
Of course he did.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
That was the annoying thing about caring about someone.
You noticed everything.
Even things you wished you didn't.
Like how Osamu always gave Atsumu the last piece of food while pretending he didn't want it.
Like how he remembered everyone's preferences.
Like how he smiled differently when he talked about things he loved.
Suna noticed all of it.
And he hated that he noticed.
Because noticing things meant remembering them.
And remembering things meant they mattered.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The first time Suna saw the thread...
he thought he was tired.
It was after practice.
Everyone had already left.
The gym was quiet.
Almost too quiet.
Suna sat alone, scrolling through his phone, waiting for the motivation to actually go home.
Then he noticed something.
A red line.
Around his wrist.
He stared.
For a few seconds, he didn't move.
Because Suna Rintarou was many things.
Lazy.
Sarcastic.
Annoyingly observant.
But he wasn't someone who imagined things.
Slowly, he lifted his hand.
The thread moved with him.
Real.
A thin red string wrapped around his wrist.
And it stretched across the gym.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Suna followed it.
Not because he wanted to.
Because curiosity was a terrible habit.
The thread crossed the floor.
Passed the empty benches.
Reached toward the doorway.
And disappeared.
Suna stared.
Then he stood up.
Because apparently, his evening was not allowed to be normal.
He followed where it led.
And when he reached the end...
he stopped.
Osamu.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
For once...
Suna had nothing to say.
Which was rare.
Very rare.
He looked down at the thread.
Then back at the empty doorway where Osamu had left earlier.
Then back at the thread.
"...Seriously?"
The thread remained silent.
Of course it did.
Suna sighed.
Because somehow, even an impossible magical thread was less annoying than Atsumu.
Almost.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
He searched for answers that night.
Not because he was worried.
At least, that's what he told himself.
He was just curious.
That was all.
The results appeared quickly.
Rotten String Disease.
Suna stared at the words.
The explanation was simple.
Everyone had a thread.
But only some people could see theirs.
A person could develop the disease when they loved someone whose feelings could never return.
The thread would begin to weaken.
Then fade.
Then unravel.
Until nothing remained.
Suna read the words again.
Then looked at his wrist.
The thread was still bright red.
Still whole.
Still connected.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
He closed the page.
No panic.
No sadness.
No dramatic reaction.
That wasn't who Suna was.
Instead, he lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow would be normal.
Practice would happen.
Atsumu would be annoying.
Osamu would complain.
Kita would pretend he wasn't tired.
Everything would stay the same.
Except now...
Suna knew.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The next day, Osamu handed him a drink without asking.
Suna looked at it.
"You got the wrong one."
Osamu frowned.
"No, I didn't."
"You did."
"I know what you drink."
A pause.
Suna looked away.
Because that was another thing he noticed.
Osamu remembered.
"Thanks."
Osamu looked surprised.
"That's it?"
"What?"
"No insult?"
Suna shrugged.
"Don't get used to it."
Osamu laughed.
And for a moment...
everything felt normal.
Then Suna looked down.
The thread around his wrist glowed softly.
A quiet reminder.
A connection only he could see.
Something beautiful.
Something impossible.
Something that belonged only to him.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Suna Rintarou had always been good at pretending.
Not in the way Oikawa did.
Oikawa pretended by smiling.
By laughing louder.
By making sure nobody had enough time to ask if he was okay.
Suna was different.
Suna pretended by acting like nothing mattered.
Because if nothing mattered...
then nothing could hurt.
At least, that was the idea.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The thread didn't change immediately.
For a while, Suna almost convinced himself it wouldn't.
Maybe the disease was wrong.
Maybe whatever connected him to Osamu wasn't what he thought it was.
Maybe this was something else.
Something random.
Something that didn't have to mean anything.
Then one morning...
he woke up and found a piece of thread on his pillow.
A tiny piece.
Almost invisible.
Dark.
Faded.
Suna stared at it.
He picked it up carefully.
The moment it touched his fingers...
it disappeared.
Like it had never existed.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Suna sat there for a long time.
Usually, he would have made a joke.
Usually, he would have laughed.
Usually, he would have found some way to make it seem less serious.
But there was nobody there.
Nobody to perform for.
Nobody to convince.
So he just looked at his wrist.
The thread was still there.
But the colour wasn't as bright as before.
Only slightly.
Almost impossible to notice.
Almost.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Practice continued like normal.
That was the strangest part.
The world didn't care.
Atsumu still argued with Osamu.
Osamu still insulted Atsumu.
Aran still tried to stop them.
Kita still somehow managed to control everyone without raising his voice.
Suna still sat on the sidelines.
Still watched.
Still recorded things he could use against people later.
Everything looked the same.
Except now...
he knew what he was looking at.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
"You're quiet."
Atsumu dropped down beside him.
Suna looked over.
"I'm always quiet."
"No."
Atsumu pointed at him.
"You're usually annoying."
"That's rude."
"It's true."
Suna considered arguing.
Then decided it wasn't worth the effort.
Atsumu stared at him.
Which was unusual.
Atsumu didn't usually stare.
He usually shouted.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That sounded like something."
Atsumu looked away.
But he didn't leave.
Suna noticed.
Of course he noticed.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
That was another annoying thing.
People thought Atsumu was careless.
They thought because he was loud, he didn't pay attention.
They were wrong.
Atsumu noticed plenty.
He just didn't always know what to do with what he noticed.
Like now.
He noticed Suna was checking his wrist more often.
He noticed Suna stopped making certain jokes.
He noticed Suna looked tired.
But every time he asked...
Suna brushed it off.
And Atsumu hated being ignored.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
"You hiding something?"
Suna looked at him.
"No."
"That was too fast."
"Was it?"
"Yes."
Suna shrugged.
"Then I guess you know me too well."
Atsumu froze.
It was only for a second.
But Suna saw it.
Because Suna always saw things.
Then Atsumu scoffed.
"Don't say weird things."
"You're weird."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Shut up."
There it was.
Normal.
Easy.
Atsumu walked away.
But he kept looking back.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The thread continued to change.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Just like Suna.
The red colour faded little by little.
The strands became thinner.
Every time Osamu laughed with someone else...
Suna noticed.
Every time Osamu talked about the future...
Suna noticed.
Every time Osamu looked happy...
Suna noticed.
And that was the problem.
Suna didn't hate that Osamu was happy.
He couldn't.
That would be unfair.
Osamu deserved to be happy.
Even if Suna wasn't the reason.
Especially if Suna wasn't the reason.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
One evening, after practice, Suna stayed behind.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he didn't feel like moving.
The gym lights were off.
The room was quiet.
He looked down.
Another piece had fallen.
This time...
he felt it happen.
A small pull.
A strange emptiness.
Like something inside him had loosened.
Suna closed his hand around the loose thread.
For a second...
he wondered what would happen if he just pulled.
If he could end it faster.
If he could stop waiting.
Then he remembered.
The thread wasn't the problem.
The feelings were.
And he couldn't pull away from something he had never held.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
"You're still here?"
Suna looked up.
Osamu stood at the gym entrance.
For a moment, Suna forgot to hide his expression.
Then it was gone.
Back to normal.
"Yeah."
"You waiting for someone?"
"No."
Osamu walked closer.
"You sure?"
Suna looked at him.
The thread between them was faint.
But still there.
"Yeah."
A pause.
Then Osamu nodded.
"Alright."
And somehow...
that simple answer hurt more than it should have.
Because Osamu trusted him.
Osamu cared about him.
Just not in the way Suna wished.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Later that night...
Atsumu stared at Suna across the room.
Suna noticed immediately.
"You keep looking at me."
Atsumu looked away.
"I don't."
"You do."
"No, I don't."
"You do."
Atsumu was quiet.
Then:
"You're acting weird."
Suna smiled slightly.
"That's rich coming from you."
Usually, Atsumu would argue.
This time...
he didn't.
And that was when Suna realised.
Atsumu wasn't joking.
He was worried.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Suna looked down at his wrist.
The thread was still connected.
Still fading.
Still slowly disappearing.
And for the first time...
he wondered how long he could keep pretending he didn't care.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Atsumu Miya was many things.
Loud.
Competitive.
Annoying.
According to Osamu, unbearable.
But stupid?
Never.
People often confused being reckless with being unaware.
They saw Atsumu causing chaos and assumed he didn't notice anything.
They were wrong.
Atsumu noticed.
Especially when it came to the people he cared about.
And lately...
he had been noticing Suna.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Suna had always been difficult to read.
That was what made him annoying.
Atsumu could tell when Osamu was upset.
He could tell when Aran was stressed.
He could even tell when Kita was disappointed, which was somehow worse.
But Suna?
Suna could be sitting there looking completely bored while having an entire conversation happening behind his eyes.
Usually, Atsumu found that annoying.
Now...
it worried him.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The first real sign was after practice.
Everyone was leaving.
Atsumu forgot his phone in the gym and went back.
That was when he saw Suna.
Alone.
Again.
At first, Atsumu thought nothing of it.
Suna stayed behind sometimes.
But then he noticed something.
Suna was looking at his wrist.
Not casually.
Not absentmindedly.
Like he was checking something.
Atsumu frowned.
"Suna?"
Suna immediately lowered his hand.
Too quickly.
Atsumu stopped.
Because that reaction told him everything.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
"What are you hiding?"
Suna blinked.
"Nothing."
Atsumu stared.
"You really need a better answer."
"I have plenty of answers."
"That one was terrible."
Suna looked away.
Atsumu walked closer.
For once...
he wasn't joking.
"Suna."
The change in his voice made Suna look up.
Because Atsumu only sounded serious when something actually mattered.
"I'm fine."
Atsumu hated those words.
Not because they were always a lie.
But because people used them when they didn't want anyone to look closer.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
"I know you're lying."
Suna raised an eyebrow.
"That's rude."
"It's true."
"You say that a lot."
"Because it's true a lot."
Suna almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he looked away.
And Atsumu saw it.
The smallest expression.
The one Suna usually hid before anyone could catch it.
Atsumu didn't know what it meant.
But he knew one thing.
Suna was hurting.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Atsumu didn't force him to explain.
Not immediately.
Because even he understood that sometimes people weren't ready.
But he paid attention.
More than before.
And eventually...
he found the answer.
Not from Suna.
From an accident.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Suna wasn't careless.
That was the thing.
He was usually the person who noticed everything.
Which was why Atsumu knew something must have been wrong when he left his notebook behind.
Atsumu only picked it up because he thought it was his.
He opened it.
And immediately knew it wasn't.
Most of the pages were normal.
Random thoughts.
Volleyball notes.
Things Suna had noticed.
Then one page caught his attention.
Rotten String Disease.
Atsumu stopped.
He read the first few lines.
Then the next.
And slowly...
his expression changed.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The first thought wasn't anger.
It was confusion.
Because the words didn't make sense.
Then they did.
The thread.
The wrist.
The hiding.
Suna.
Atsumu closed the notebook.
Slowly.
Because suddenly everything made sense.
And he hated that it did.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
"Who?"
Suna looked up when Atsumu found him.
He didn't need to ask what he meant.
Because Suna knew.
Silence answered first.
Atsumu's expression tightened.
"No."
Suna looked away.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't make it a big deal."
Atsumu stared at him.
"A big deal?"
His voice cracked slightly.
"Suna, you're literallyโ"
He stopped himself.
Because Suna looked tired.
Not annoyed.
Not bored.
Tired.
And suddenly Atsumu wasn't angry anymore.
Just upset.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
"How long?"
Suna didn't answer.
Atsumu understood.
"How long have you known?"
"Since it started."
"And you didn't tell anyone?"
Suna shrugged.
"Why would I?"
Atsumu looked at him.
"Because we're your friends."
Suna was quiet.
Because that was the problem.
He knew they were.
That's why he didn't want them to know.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Atsumu didn't ask who the thread belonged to.
Not at first.
He already had a guess.
Because Suna watched Osamu differently.
Everyone joked about it.
Everyone thought it was just Suna being Suna.
But Atsumu knew his brother.
And he knew Suna.
The silence between them told him enough.
"...It's Samu."
Suna didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Atsumu looked away.
For once...
he had no joke.
No insult.
No dramatic reaction.
Just sadness.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Later that night, Atsumu told Kita.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he didn't know what else to do.
Kita listened quietly.
As always.
When Atsumu finished, there was a long silence.
Then Kita said:
"Does Suna want Osamu to know?"
Atsumu looked down.
"No."
"Then we respect that."
Atsumu frowned.
"Butโ"
"I know."
Kita's voice softened.
"But this is Suna's feeling. Not ours."
Aran, who had been quiet the entire time, sighed.
"He really didn't tell anyone..."
Atsumu looked away.
"No."
And somehow...
that hurt the most.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The next day...
nothing changed.
That was the promise.
No pity.
No awkward questions.
No treating Suna like he was fragile.
They joked with him.
Argued with him.
Included him.
Exactly like always.
Because Suna didn't need people to save him.
He needed people to stay.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
But Osamu still didn't know.
And every time Osamu smiled...
Atsumu saw it.
The reason Suna had stayed silent.
The reason he had carried it alone.
The reason the thread continued to fade.
Atsumu looked at his brother.
Then at Suna.
And for the first time...
he understood something.
Sometimes the hardest thing wasn't watching someone lose love.
It was watching them lose it quietly.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Suna Rintarou had never been good at saying goodbye.
Not because he was afraid of endings.
Because endings meant admitting something had existed in the first place.
And for a long time...
he had convinced himself the thread didn't matter.
That it was just a disease.
Just a strange connection.
Just something that happened to him.
But every day, as the thread became thinner...
he understood.
It was never the thread that hurt.
It was knowing what it meant.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
After Atsumu found out, things changed.
Not between Suna and Osamu.
That stayed the same.
And maybe that was the hardest part.
Osamu still handed him food without asking.
Still complained about Atsumu.
Still sat beside him during breaks.
Still treated him like he always had.
Like Suna was someone important.
Just not in the way Suna had hoped.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Atsumu never told Osamu.
Not because he didn't want to.
There were moments when he wanted to shake his brother and ask how he didn't notice.
How could Osamu not see the person who was always beside him?
But Kita stopped him.
"That isn't his choice to make."
And Atsumu hated that Kita was right.
Because Suna had spent so long carrying this alone.
The least they could do...
was let him decide when to put it down.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The final days were quiet.
There was no dramatic moment.
No sudden realization.
No confession.
Just small moments.
Suna watching Osamu laugh.
Suna listening to Atsumu complain.
Suna sitting with his teammates.
Suna memorizing things he already knew he would remember.
Because even without the thread...
those moments were still real.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The thread was almost gone.
Suna could barely see it anymore.
A thin, fragile line around his wrist.
Almost nothing.
Almost.
He wondered if Osamu would notice.
Not the thread.
Never the thread.
Just him.
If one day he stopped looking over.
Stopped waiting.
Stopped hoping.
Would Osamu know something had changed?
The answer came easily.
No.
And somehow...
that was okay.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
The last day was ordinary.
Practice ended.
Everyone left.
The sky looked the same as always.
Suna walked home slowly.
His hands were in his pockets.
The thread rested around his wrist.
One final strand.
Holding on.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
He stopped.
Looked down.
And waited.
For something.
Anything.
A final moment.
A final sign.
A reason to keep holding on.
But there was nothing.
The last strand finally gave way.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
It didn't snap.
It simply...
unraveled.
The loose fibres drifted into the wind,
disappearing before they ever reached the ground.
His wrist felt lighter.
Empty.
Quiet.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Suna looked at Osamu one last time.
He was laughing.
Probably because Atsumu had said something stupid again.
Probably because nothing had changed.
And maybe...
that was the point.
Not every ending had to destroy something.
Some things just ended because they were never meant to last.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
Then he slipped his hands into his pockets,
turned away,
and walked home.
For the first time...
there was no thread pulling him to look back.
โโโ ๏ฝฅ ๏ฝก๏พโ: *.โฝ .* :โ๏พ. โโโ ๐ช โโ โฆ A / N โฆ โโ ๐ช โโโ ๏ฝฅ ๏ฝก๏พโ: *.โฝ .* :โ๏พ. โโโ
Ngl, im tired. (๏ผ.๏ผ)...zzz
every single day, i feel like i live my life on autopilot. i get lectured by mum, even tho im pr sure she doesnt even know she lecturing me. she talks abt how i should eat less snacks for my health, and earlier she was like, if smth happens tmr, i need u to be independant. but all i think is if smth happens tmr, i jst wanna be happy b4 it.
do yall know the song Numb Little Bug? that's what im feeling rn, except, it's not like i dont wanna die, it's jst idk wat happens after death so im scared, and i would miss my family.
so if one day i dont update for months without saying anything b4 hand, it'll either be im dead, got banned from electronics, smth happened, or lost my acc ig. ๐ป
anyways, on a lighter note, my og fic is failing, i got up to like chapter 4 or 5 after planning for AGES, and im bored now. this is y yall lucky for my fanfics i prewrite most of the chapters so i dont get bored one day and stop updating. even if im bored, i can jst upload my prewritten chapters.
i might even start learning vball/join a beginner vball club, cos tdy i asked my mum again, and suprisingly, she said yes if it's in a suitable time.
did yall see my series blurb for this series?? it's so sad T-T, and if u havent, GO CHECK RN, it's super duper good ๐บ๐น๐โโ๏ธ
- โพ*ฬฉฬฉอหฬฉฬฅฬฉฬฅโง ๐จ๐ธ๐ป๐พ โงหฬฉฬฅฬฉฬฅ*ฬฉฬฉอโพ