DON'T BLINK.
read on ao3 (1,257 words)
He didn’t move. He just kept thinking about it—the first thing Suo had taught him, when he’d wanted to learn how to fight. If you looked away, you’d miss your opponent’s next move. You’d never be able to tell the difference between a punch and a fake out. Facing someone head on meant that sometimes you’d take a hit, sure, but if you flinched, you’d always take a hit. Suo had told him this, and then promptly demonstrated it for his benefit. …As far as punches to the face could go, Nirei had to admit it had been remarkably gentle.
hi guys. I had lots of ch 209 feelings and wanted to get them out before I read ch 210. this one’s for the suo and nirei fans. fic's linked above and under the cut.
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YOU CAN’T CLOSE YOUR EYES.
Nirei’s head was pounding. Dark had fallen over their town, so all he had for illumination were the dim streetlights and his phone, the brightness high-white and beamed into his face. In the cold weather, the sound of animals was sparse—all that was left, then, was the wind as it intermittently picked up and died down. He’d been crouched on the edge of this plastic slide for so long that his legs were starting to hurt. Maybe it was a sign to give up the ghost and head home.
He didn’t move. He just kept thinking about it—the first thing Suo had taught him, when he’d wanted to learn how to fight.
If you looked away, you’d miss your opponent’s next move. You’d never be able to tell the difference between a punch and a fake out. Facing someone head on meant that sometimes you’d take a hit, sure, but if you flinched, you’d always take a hit.
Suo had told him this, and then promptly demonstrated it for his benefit.
…As far as punches to the face could go, Nirei had to admit it had been remarkably gentle.
When you met someone’s eyes, that was the moment a one-sided beatdown became a real fight. Just like Pokémon, Nirei thought, and wisely kept that to himself. But maybe Suo would’ve laughed, if he’d said it out loud. As disciplined as he was, sometimes Nirei got the feeling that all of it—fighting, living—was something of a game to him. Like he was a step removed from the situation.
YOU NEED TO OPEN YOUR EYES.
His phone screen dimmed, and Nirei tapped it back awake. Another missed call. His fingers were starting to numb.
Back when they’d fought Shishitoren, Sakura, too, had emphasized the importance of looking—keep your eyes forward. Seeing him in action, Nirei really did think that fighting could be a real communicative art, like a form of partner dance that hadn’t been popularized, yet. Even Momijikawa had been charmed.
That fight with Shishitoren was also when Sakura had said that Suo had “a rotten, garbage personality.” But he didn’t sound all that pressed about it then, so Nirei had let it go. He’d believed in what Umemiya had said, too: that Suo was a kind kid.
Nirei wasn’t sure what to believe, now.
He’d kept his eyes peeled open, like Suo had asked. In a way, reading your opponent was like information gathering, just in bullet-time. At least that was how he’d psyched himself up before training with Suo. As far as Nirei was concerned, it was the one thing he was even sort of okay at. Suo had said as much, only nicer, telling Nirei that he had plenty of good qualities, but he especially had good eyes.
And he’d still missed it. For all the fuss Suo had made, Nirei hadn’t managed to learn anything more than a fake address and a probable dislike of natto. Any compliment Suo could give Nirei had to be reflected back on himself, twofold; they’d both witnessed Sakura’s living situation, but it was Suo who’d known how to handle it. For a guy like Sakura, you couldn’t blindly ambush him with friendship. Instead you lured him in, carefully, patiently, until he was ready to open up on his own. That was what eyes were for—to figure these things out.
Nirei was feeling pretty fucking blind, now. And stupid. And terrible. And a list of generally awful things.
In any other situation, Sakura would pull him out of his self-flagellation, but Suo’s departure had clearly left him smarting. Nirei wasn’t the only one racking up missed calls. He was putting on a brave face, but…
Nirei shook his head. Maybe he was just projecting; how could he be sure of how someone else felt?
They’d walked these same streets time and time again. And every day, when they’d parted at the same corner, Suo had walked off into the dark. Each day, they’d parted at the same corner, and Suo had walked off into the dark, alone.
And Nirei had let him.
He shuddered. The chill was getting to him. At least his hands were warm; his phone was starting to overheat. Nirei curled tighter into himself, gaze drifting to the surrounding empty.
He’d thought of those goodbyes as temporary, almost too insignificant to remember, but now all he could do was turn back to that moment, over and over. That night, when they bid each other goodbye, did Suo know he was leaving? Had he known the whole time? What had that felt like?
Nirei didn’t know. If Suo came back, he could ask him—but only if.
It occurred to him now that Suo might’ve known the best way to treat Sakura because he, too, wasn’t so used to friendship. The thought seemed impossible at first, because Suo was a generally agreeable person, and it wasn't like he got along badly with anyone else, but… friends were more than just pleasantries, Nirei thought. They were supposed to share their joys and sorrows. And it was dawning on Nirei that Suo hadn’t shared much of anything.
His phone rang out again, trilling into the dead of night. If it was still warm, his fingers were too numb to feel it. He didn’t know why he was still calling. It was a compulsion—like striking matches to keep warm in winter. You dreamed of an impossible fantasy, got lost in the dream, burned up all your last wishes, and died in sleep, never even knowing when the last flame had been snuffed out.
The wind whistled through the playground. Nirei chewed on the inside of his lip. His tears had dried up, but his eyes still stung. He’s really not answering.
As sudden as a lightning strike, the call connected.
He almost dropped his phone in the rush to hold it up to his ear. “Suo-san?!” he cried, but the other end of the line stayed silent, even as he repeated the name, growing frantic. “Where are you? What happened to you?”
The winds had picked up again; the buffeting noise was almost loud enough to drown out Suo’s reply. “Nire-kun. You’ll be cold if you don’t bundle up.”
YOU HAVE TO LOOK CLOSER.
There—just across the street. Dead leaves fluttered through the air in a tizzy, but none of it was enough to obscure Suo Hayato, who stood just beyond the scattering. Through the phone his voice had sounded tinny and distant—this close, he’d hear if Nirei shouted. And it was close enough for Nirei to see his face.
He was smiling. That hurt worse than any hit Nirei had ever taken, because Suo was just like usual, and though with this weather the cold had already seeped into his skin, the thought that Suo had always smiled like this, hiding everything, and that Nirei hadn’t looked hard enough—that thought gave him bone-deep chills.
In a fight, the space between a hit and a miss was a thin sliver of a line. Their eyes had met, so the same principles applied; if he lost sight of him again, Nirei thought he might lose him forever.
Now it wasn’t enough—to not close his eyes—to open them—to look closer—it wasn’t enough to just stare at Suo, his figure far enough to be almost silhouette, winking in and out of the dark.
Nirei’s head, his heart, the wind—everything was howling.
DON’T BLINK.
