#alphaaz

[jaanwangji]

To Know You Is To Love You

by scratchyscribbles on ao3

Getou Suguru / Gojo Satoru

8.5k | T

His eyes look immeasurably soft in that moment, big and round, and full of love for—for someone. Suguru can't fathom it being him. Or, they love and they bleed.

[jaanwangji]

What is nostalgia if not the smell of your mother's food? If not the shows you grew up watching? What is nostalgia if not looking at your favourite people and realising they've grown, changed, that their laugh lines are a little bolder but their laughter still sounds the same? What is nostalgia if not for the road that takes you back to your old school? What is nostalgia if not the home town you outgrew? What is nostalgia if not the person you used to be? What is it if not the memories that never escapes your mind, or the memories that comes to you so suddenly that it makes you stop to wonder, ah yes that happened, I was happy then? What is it if not for the time you can't bring back, the time that was simpler in hindsight but at that moment meant everything to you? God, what is it if not all that?

[jaanwangji]

Being an younger sibling is just. ive always known you. i still don't know you. you were always here. then one day you weren't really there. i look up to you, i always did. i wanted to be just like you, so i copied everything you did. i saw your favourite colour is black, so i was like hey black's pretty neat. mom tells me stories about our childhood sometimes, i don't remember a thing, but you used to hold my hand and break my things. you used to wipe my tears and pull my hair. you had things i didn't, i had things you didn't. mom and dad are tough on you, i can tell it's different with me. we don't talk anymore, i don't think we ever really did. i miss fighting you, i miss laughing at you. i miss laughing with you. you picked me up from school because mom was busy, you heated up food for me because no one else was home. i played with your old toys, i used to wear your old clothes. i steal your new ones now. sometimes. i keep them back before you can know. I don't remember you as a child anymore, though i'm sure we played together. i don't know a life without you. i don't know anything about your life. yet i know where you keep your secrets. i've always thought you were cool, i just wanted to be like you. why are we strangers then?

[jaanwangji]

I never truly realised how afraid of change i was until i saw my dad take down the wall clock in his room from the place where it's always been just because he wanted to put it somewhere different. I couldn't stop myself from speaking, "No that place is fine! It's perfectly fine! It looks good like that, any other place just won't feel right!" When i paused to take a deep breath I realised that the mere thought of the clock's place being changed knocked the air out of my lungs, and suddenly i was struck with this blind panic of keeping things as is. Because why must it change when there's no immediate need to? The fear clambers out my throat sometimes, at the mention of any miniscule change, as if there's nothing that could be worse than changing the path i take everyday back from school, or the way i wear my hair, or the way I walk down a crowded road. Some days everything comes down to the fact that I can't handle change, even when it's necessary, even when it's inevitable and even when it's good. I can't help it, i feel change everywhere and it haunts me, so much so that I can't sleep until the curtains are drawn just the way they've always been and the room is just as dark as i remember it. I'm scared change would change me, even though i know I've changed since yesterday. Everything changes right? Isn't that the only constant of life? Then why does it feel so foreign?

[jaanwangji]

oh my, my, when I look into your eyes

by scratchyscribbles (me) on ao3

A study of eyes.

Or alternatively, it's all about the way Suguru looks at Satoru.

[jaanwangji]

you're staring out the window of a moving bus, you're in the last seat no one can possibly disturb you. you feel the wind on your face and the blue of the people the bus passes by. you want to put your hand out just to feel the air blow on your skin, cooling it off with its force. it almost feels like you can fly along the wind if you so wish to. a song plays on repeat just like it always does when you find a new one to obsess over, and you feel something you're tempted to relate to peace.

as you're contemplating on the best way to describe what you're feeling right now, the first wave of rain comes your way, leaving little droplets of water hanging on your face, as the pitter patter of the rain hitting the concrete gets louder. you hear people rush to close the windows inside the bus. but you're in no hurry, you're in the last seat, nobody could possibly disturb you. you finally let your hand out for just a moment to let the rain hit it with all its gentle force, and you feel a shiver rack down your spine which makes an involuntary smile creep up your cheeks. you bring your now wet hand to your face, to feel the coolness of the rain. you don't remember where your stop was anymore, but right now you don't seem to care all that much. you'll get back eventually, if you really wanted to.

you don't close the window until you're half soaked and then someone sits beside you and tells you to close the window please. and you listen, because that's what you do. you settle down again, head against the glass, trying to feel the rain even through the barrier. it's oddly calming knowing that the rain is just outside, pouring, pouring, pouring and maybe also washing your grief away, not all of it, but some of it just to lighten your burden a little. the tenderness of the moment makes you heart melt. when it rains, its like suddenly you're not alone anymore, you're not walking an endless path devoid of company, you're just at an empty stop, you'll cross this eventually too.

when you wake up, the rain has long since stopped, but it has left behind so distinct a smell in the air that you still feel it's presence around you. you're still on the bus but there's far less people now. you look at the sky, a brilliant blue with clouds hanging close by, and sigh, what a day it has been. you don't remember half of it, but you remember the serenity of it all.

that was perhaps enough to not let your fears consume you whole for some time.

[jaanwangji]

I don't think I'm made to be loved for a long time, and that's okay, I've had quite a bit of time to come to terms with the fact. I'm more of a stranger you kiss at midnight on New year's, and the warm body that you sway against in a club. I'm not the one who you meet at a book store one sunny day, or the one you write your number on a paper napkin for.

I'm meant to fill in those fleeting moments between the yearning gaps that remain open in people's consciousness. I'm meant to fill their ribs with temporary calmness, before they're blown away by the storm of love at first sight, love in a cruise, love in a wedding reception, love in a grocery store, love in a school playground, love in a graveyard.

If I were an episode, I'd be those filler ones where everything seems to be going right, and everyone seems to be quite content, but it's not meant to last, it's never meant to last. It's just a glimpse of what could be in a different world, in a different time, with different people.

I don't escape your notice, but I escape through your fingers, it's my fate. It's my fate to make you memorize me and then snatch those memories from you, cruelly so. I have a heart that beats, but somedays I doubt that's true. How can it beat without skipping any beat when it's so worn down and old?

I'm not meant to be loved for a long time, but for a moment when the sky is glowing, and the clouds are high. Only for a moment when it's about to rain, but it thunders instead. Only for a moment when it's windy and your umbrella's broken. Only for a moment when you read a book, and your heart flips because the characters make you feel. Only for a moment when your head touches the pillow and comfort seeps into your bone. Only for a moment when the first drop of water touches your throat when you're thirsty after a long run. Only for a moment.

You leave, or I leave, it doesn't really make a difference. The outcome remains the same. That's alright, I'm only meant to be loved transient.

[jaanwangji]

Ykw fuck it life's all about wearing the same two outfits repeatedly bc you love how comfy they make u feel. it's all about getting a haircut which according to others don't flatter u yet u roll with it anyway bc u love it. it's all about listening to the same music everyday bc u want to. it's all abt not giving up on ur worn out leather jacket or ur broken twisted earphones. it's all abt wearing beaten up shoes nd holey socks nd having chipped nails nd crooked ponytails. It's all abt keeping all ur broken electronics somewhr safe even tho u will never need them again. it's all abt keeping ur childhood journals just bc u can't bear to throw them away. it's all abt doodling ur initials whrever u can to feel a sense of belonging, to give the place something to remember u by. it's all abt going on walks alone bc u feel like it. it's all abt just being–imperfect and happy. Unabashedly just being a human and truly enjoying it.