1!! (im so curious abt ur narrative!fic bc i see u use the tag all the time despite me not being in the fandom skdfj)
hohohoho ty spec!! this fic has been percolating for like. one year. and now i am, finally doing something about it.
#1 for the wips ask game is narrative!fic, an immediately post-canon fic about what happens to haiji once the big project (running a really big long-distance collegiate relay race) he's dedicated four years of his life to is over, and what he's left with. fujioka is haiji's childhood friend who is a really up-and-coming runner.
And then they’re alone in the car, in-between cities, for the first time since Haiji decided to ruin his own life and save someone else’s life at the same time. For the first time since Haiji let himself be swallowed again by something he swore he’d left behind in high school.
The car is painfully quiet. Haiji can hear the sound of the wheels against the road outside.
“Your dad hasn’t changed, huh,” says Fujioka, and they’re talking about their parents, which is all they ever seemed to talk about in high school when they weren’t talking about running. Which is good, because Haiji doesn’t want to talk about running, right now. He’s not sure what the hell he’d say.
“No,” says Haiji. Now that they’re talking about it, he’s not sure he wants to talk about his dad, either. Even if anything is better than Fujioka having a chance to ask something like, How come that first-year on your team doesn’t talk about you like you’re his captain? To make sure of it, Haiji asks, “How’s your mom doing?”
Fujioka doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when Haiji looks over at him, he looks surprised and then schools his expression. It makes Haiji want to keep asking questions, so he says, “She watched you this year, right?”
“Yeah,” says Fujioka, sounding strangely reluctant. “She came to Hakone. Said that taking the train to come see me reminded her of her childhood. That was strange, she never really talks about that.”
“That’s nice,” says Haiji sincerely, even though he doesn't even have concrete evidence that his parents had their television tuned to the race coverage while it was happening. “I’m glad she packed us something. My mom is really anal about what I’m eating.”
“Still?” asks Fujioka, surprised. “But you’re not— you—” he stumbles to a stop. Haiji knows what he’s asking, but he can’t make himself help out, not this time.
Eventually they stop at a stoplight, and Fujioka says, “But you’re not running anymore.” He pauses, catches Haiji’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He sounds so hopeful. “Are you?”
“Just not right now,” says Haiji, the way he’s practiced in the mirror. “It’s a short break.” But even so, he feels his gaze slide away until he’s looking out the window.
