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[7:57:26 PM] Assahi: don't call me names [8:00:27 PM] auger von yiffer: what if i called you like good nicknames [8:01:02 PM] Assahi: then that would be okay [8:01:07 PM] Assahi: call me good nicknames [8:01:40 PM] auger von yiffer: superplum cupcake bondagebaby butterscotch kinkshamer
I h8 @nishinoised so much
@nishinoised
He looks down at the skateboard under him , wondering why he even agreed to get on this . “Nishinoya I can’t do this -”
Idle thoughts were dangerous, they said, and Asahi would have to agree with them. The Ace had gotten decent-not good, because he still slipped up-at preoccupying himself to keep the various arrangement of thoughts at bay, but today they seemed persistent.
Lurking in the back, just waiting for moments where his studies trailed off and a blank spot opened before they slithered into his mind. Slow at first, one here, one there and always able to be pushed down with another equation, another sentence. But they came back when they usually didn’t, stayed on a specific topic when they usually wouldn’t, and really he was growing tired of it all. But Asahi wasn’t known for fighting, for sticking his ground and speaking his mind.
With a heavy sigh he laid his pencil down, his eyes closed and he allowed himself to indulge in what his mind produced. It wasn’t anything new, anything he hadn’t thought of before, and really it was starting to become more and more frequent for the third year and for that he thanked his parents. His eyes opened only half way, the words of the teacher already a dull voice in the background. His thoughts had won this round, the back mess clouding his otherwise organized brain.
Under his desk his hand moved, open palm resting on his stomach a moment before it trailed, leaving a nonresistant print from where it had sat to his side, turning downward before his fingers brushed against his clothes hipbone. His breath hitched, the memory of his mark appearing, of the pain and the w o r r y that came with it, of the sign that he was ‘mature’ and on his way to advancing in his life. And he hated this mark. Hated what it stood for, what it looked like and the fact that it was supposed to be shared with someone, anyone ! His fingers curled, gripping the fabric of his top and his head turned to the clear view of outside. He knew his face was sour, because for all of his curiosity on just who his soulmate was, his despise lingered deeper. Harder. He should have say on who he was meant to be with, on who his spent his life with. But he knew his society, knew the way soulmates were viewed. It was set in stone, no one would look twice at you if you bore anothers mark, it would be in vain to even pursue someone without knowing.
But how was he supposed to show his mark? He was thankful for it being able to be hidden, the horrid mess of lines that looked like a toddler drew it, etched into his skin, just a shade lighter to stand out if it was seen by someones eyes which thankfully no one has yet to see it. Despite his anger, his bitterness and his distaste he still looked. At every visible mark, he looked, because even if he hated this thing called soulmates he wanted to know just who his was.
It’d be a lie if he said he noticed the end of class signal, and if it weren’t for the l o u d clashing of students moving, he possibly would never have. But he did, and with haste he gathered his supplies and slipped them neatly into his bag, sliding the strap over his shoulder and he left the classroom, taking the walk to once more attempt to push the thoughts back down. It was time for practice, and Asahi needed to focus on his plays not on what may or may not be a horrible hand fate dealt him.
Arriving was faster then he anticipated, his hand holding the door frame was he walked in just as the remaining pieces of his thoughts were shoved back into the abyss where they belonged. He was greeted as usual, certain voices easier to hear over others, and he waved in response before taking a look around. It seemed he arrived a little before time, thankfully, and he was quick follow suit and begin getting ready.
@nishinoised
“I’ve seen the Exorcist about a hundred and sixty seven times, and it keeps getting funnier! Every! Single! Time I see it!”
BEETLEJUICE STARTERS.
“ uooooh ! noya-san, you should check out the human centipede ! ” tanaka isn’t trying to upstage him, but he’s very confident in his suggestion. it’s what makes him give a devilish grin & flash a thumbs up ---
“ i bet you i’ve seen it a hundred and sixty EIGHT times ! it’s hi-la-rious. ”
If you be my star, I’ll be your s k y
Nishinoya Yuu was amazing. Rough around the edges, loud and honest, but still amazing in the eyes of Azumane Asahi.
You can hide u n d e r n e a t h me and come out at NIGHT
Sometimes he wondered when he started thinking this way, trying to pinpoint a time, a moment, but no matter how far back he tried to it was already there, quiet and small, but still in his brain, still an waiting to be recognized. And he did, and it bloomed, becoming less of an association and more of a f a c t on level with the sky being blue and the grass being green. Maybe it has been last week, when Nishinoya had been so close to sticking the landing to a new trick he had tried to imitate on only the first try. Asahi had been been trying to study, having been dragged along to the skate park that had become all too familiar after classes, when the familiar “Asahi-san watch this!” tore into his concentration. He had looked up in acknowledgement, meeting those excited eyes, watching in mild a m a z e m e n t as the trick was performed. And then he was up, book out of his lap and bag in his possession as he attended to the red and just scraped enough to bleed skin, Nishinoyas laughter ringing in his ears. Or maybe it was four weeks ago, when instead of heading to the skate park the two remained on campus, decorated skateboard resting against the wall nearest their table. A textbook was open and a notebook beside it, lines pages littered with yellow highlighter and pen doodles. Nishinoya hadn’t been failing his class, but if he wanted to stay under his parents radar he needed to raise it, and out of everyone he went to Asahi. And he helped, explained the topic and watched with such a p r o u d gaze as it was understood. Asahi had been thanked with a double scoop cone, the flavor forgotten, his mind having been focused giving answers to quickly tossed at him questions. Or even seven weeks ago, when everything was crashing down around him and he needed a distraction and Nishinoya had responded to his vague text message with a phone call, an unnaturally worried edge to his usually peppy voice. He had been so shocked when his phone started ringing, alerting him of a call, the device had to ring twice before it was answered, an almost too soft to be heard ‘hello’ leaving his mouth. To say he remembered the conversation was a lie, but he remembered e n o u g h. Asahi had spoke his mind, voicing aloud for the first time his problems, and Nishinoya had been so amazingly understanding it left the college aged student baffled. He remembered the laughter, the pretense of jokes to ease him down, had remember the sound of Nishinoya singing off tune but not the song, had remembered when he finally noticed how tired the others voice had become and took the moment took see the time. He remembered how Nishinoya had refused to hang up, threatening to call again and again, so they continued the phone call. And he remembered waking up to his lock screen, a text notification, and the lingering memory of hearing his own name through the devices speaker.
When I turn j e t b l a c k and you show off your l i g h t I l i v e to let you s h i n e
With this fact burned deep into his mind, Asahi also realized just what it meant to be amazing. The future wasn’t something the two spoke of often, wasn’t something either asked about. For Asahi, the now was good, the now was great. But it lingered in the back of his mind, buried far under l a y e r s of research and memories and knowledge, only being found when Nishinoya spoke about it first. Of wanting to become p r o, an athlete, and Asahi knew he could do it. Nishinoya Yuu was amazing. In these times he listened, mostly idly with nods of affirmation, questions of what he would do with his fame and fortune, but he never allowed himself to linger on it. For Asahi was selfish, and in his selfishness he knew that Nishinoya achieving his goal meant he would be left behind. The life of an athlete was busy, was glamorous b r i g h t, and there would be no room time for still studying college grade friend. But Azumane Asahi ignored this thought, pushed it down so far that it was almost nonexistent, and he let himself believe that there was a possibility for this to continue into the unforeseeable future.
But you can s k y r o c k e t away from me and never come b a c k if you find another galaxy f a r from h e r e with more room to f l y
Six months. It took six months of knowing the skateboarder that was Nishinoya, for Azumane Asahi to consider he was in love. Another two months of meeting after school and on weekends, another two months of bandaging minor scrapes and cuts, another two months of helping the third year study, and Azumane Asahi was confirming that he was in love. Another two weeks and he found himself saying it out loud for the first time, in front of his mirror, staring at his own reflection. It was a full year before he had convinced himself to say anything, to take the study session they had planed for the day, when Nishinoya was be f o c u s e d and not moving around, and use it to his advantage. He had practiced for hours really. in front of his mirror until the words were engraved into his mind, the simple sentence branded onto his tongue, but as he walked through the exit doors and found the male waiting for him he felt his nerves drowning him. But he had to do this, had to ignore everything telling him to run and trudge forward, and Nishinoya much had heard his footsteps because he turned, all bright eyes and wide smile. And he lifted a letter, a neatly printed letter, waving it while yelling his name, and his stomach dropped. Being forced to face reality wasn’t something he found himself a fan of, and as he listened to the mile a minute speech around him, the story from how Nishinoya had recorded doing some tricks, how he had sent the video in and w o n, how they had wanted to sign him. It was easy for Asahi, as selfish as he was, to hide his own hurt. His honest pride in his friend, in his skill, showing through every negative emotion he could have felt. And they rejoiced, Asahi treating him lunch after they studied, only mildly acknowledging the fact that Nishinoya was practically vibrating in his seat. He ended it earlier then usual, Asahi faking an engagement with his family and they packed up, walked the normal distance together, stopping at their usual place of departure. He wanted to follow him more, to speak even a few more seconds with the excited male, but pushing would only make it worse, and he couldn’t bring himself to do just that. Nishinoya was mostly talking, of his possible future, of his excitement, or anything and everything and Asahi hadn’t aware of just how much he was going to miss this. Their departing was slower this time, maybe Nishinoya finally realized what was going to change, but as the student peered into the soon to be athletes eyes, he couldn’t exactly read the emotion. And they stayed like that, in silence, both waiting on the other to speak. Finally a smile broke on Nishinoyas face, small and so unlike his signature grin it unsettled the taller, but he chose not to focus on that. Instead to listened to words, the ‘Bye Asahi-san’ replacing the casual ‘see you tomorrow’ because it wouldn’t have been true. And Asahi smiled, nodding and waiting until he was facing the back of the third year before he felt the pricks at the corner of his eyes, his lids closing and large palm covering his face.
Just leave me your s t a r d u s t to remember you
“...Bye.”
@nishinoised
@nishinoised
“Nishinoya, it’s been an hour, please. You can’t rap.”
nishinoised
∵ ⦇ ..I don’t think I’ll ever stop being amazed at how much energy you have. ⦈
☠ listen you know i love cute shit but rn this is right
send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse --- ☠ = pushing them against a wall
Their voices rose in volume between the two, bouncing against the walls that seemed to almost cage them in. Nothing forced him to stay in this room, the door was open, he could leave, could walk away from this fight.But the way those brown eyes looked at him right then, challenged him to stay, to fight.He wasn’t going anywhere.
Another yell, one he didn’t really hear, his body too far on auto pilot to really listen by this point. it was becoming a cycle; yell, retort, ignore the point presented, be louder then the voice before yours because your side right.His body was heated, face scrunched in his anger, and his hand throbbed. Did he hit something?He didn’t-couldn’t-remember at this point.This had gone too far.
“Nishinoya, I’m done!”A foot went forward, and then the wall met his back.Hard.
He had acted on instinct, grabbing the wrist of his assailant, much larger hand easily going around the slimmer wrist of hand that currently resided bunched in his shirt.His breathing stuttered, chest giving a subtle quiver before he released his hold, dropping his hand to his side. His eyes closed. He needed to calm down.He took in a breath-
Another yell from the person still holding him against the bedroom wall.
-and let it out. He needed to calm down, to try and even remember what had caused this volcano to erupt. What had-
-another yell.
“Nis-”Another yell.
Without much thought his hand shot back up, forcibly removing the hand before he shoved, only realizing what he had done once the sound of the others body weight collided with the ground of his bedroom.“Nish-I’m so sorry!”
