Graduation [KiKasa]

thanksillpass:

Kasamatsu thinks this is what dying feels like – you can’t breathe and can feel your brain collapsing on itself, the desperate rush of blood the only sound you can hear. His face feels hot, his palms are wet, and Kise is looking at him patiently and respectfully like Yukio doesn’t look like he’s choking on his own tongue at all.

He tries to calm down by reminding myself that this is it – the graduation, the last stop; they won’t see each other ever again, probably, not if Kasamatsu can help it, he’s going far away enough anyway. Kise rocks on the balls of his feet awkwardly, still aggravatingly patient, and Kasamatsu grits his teeth.

He fists his palm and presses it against Kise’s chest, a little bit more violently than he intended, making Kise stagger back slightly and frown in confusion. Yukio uncurls his fingers slowly and presses his hand flat against Kise’s heart, still unable not looking at him.

He lets go then and turns around to leave, hears a gasp escape Kise’s lips but he keeps going, he won’t turn back, he can’t face him. That’s the one challenge Kasamatsu Yukio has to back down from and he deserves the privilege of running away, he’s worked hard enough to earn it. He’s not a coward.

“You’re a coward, senpai!” Kise shouts, and Yukio falters in his steps.

Keep reading

Who are you? You’re looking like a stranger.

whorecrux-huntress:

Pairing: MidoTaka. Slight!KagaKuro (SubtEXt)

Genre: Angst, Drama

Warning: may give you feels? Colorful language

 Word count: 5,000+ 

 Summary: Midorima is broken in pieces and Takao is the only one who knows how to put the pieces back together.A/N: Eheh

 ~•~•~

 Takao has a recurring dream. 

 Nightmare

 It’s not that scary. It’s rather simple. He’s walking alone, on grass as the shards pierce his skin. Midorima is always walking a little ways away from him. Always out of reach-Takao learned that no matter how long his arm is he will never be able to reach for Midorima. The tip of his fingertips are too far to even brush against Midorima’s skin. Every step Takao seems to take, Midorima takes three. In real life, Midorima moves two step ahead, two steps farther every time Takao takes merely a half step.

 Takao would call, but no matter how much he calls-he would always trip on invisible obstacles that even his hawk eye can’t see. Hands screaming in protest as he falls. Midorima would turn around every time, as if Takao’s agony filled screams are the only thing he can hear. His green eyes always cold, Unfeeling, unrecognizing as they roam over Takao’s face for the few seconds he pauses. 

 Midorima continues walking, until the only thing left for Takao is his footsteps

. —

 Takao stopped setting an alarm. Midorima has taken a fair liking to waking him up precisely at seven AM and he doesn’t need an inanimate object screaming at him as well. This morning was not any different.

There was a high keening that starts out as a small whine then it reaches the intensity and pitch of a boiling kettle until Takao jolts awake to feel himself being shoved out of bed, blankets and all. His head cracks harder against the floor than usual today, he winces and lets his cheek linger a little longer against the cold hardwood floor, untangling the last tendrils of the dream from his consciousness, watching little dust bunnies dance to the music of his heaving breaths.

 ”You’re not Takao,” Midorima says, coiling into the sheets on his own side of the bed, “What are you doing in my bed?”

 ”Good morning, Shin-chan,” Takao says, sitting up rubbing his forehead he shoots Midorima an uneven smile. “What do you want for breakfast?”

 ”I don’t want anything,” Midorima hissed at him narrowing his eyes as he pushes up his glasses. “I want… Takao. Not you.”

 ”I shall go find him then.” Takao chimed brightly, “Is there anything you want to tell him?”

Midorima pulls his pillow to his chest, curling his arms and legs around it. He rolls his eyes up and blows a few locks of green hair out of his eyes, Takao’s heart clenches slightly. This is the shin-chan he remembers. 

 ”Tell him to stop leaving in the middle of the night,” Midorima says rocking back and forth resting his chin into the soft pillow. “Tell him to get back earlier if he does. Tell him that I’m sorry for all of this… That I hope he’s not cheating on me because I’m not cheating on him. Even if there’s a stranger that looks exactly like him sleeping in my bed.” 

 ”Just the same old then?” 

 ”Mhm..” Midorima murmurs with his mouth pressed against the pillow. “Tell him I miss him.” 

 ”… Okay,” Takao says, his heart once again clenching tightly. “I’ll tell him that.”

 Takao isn’t mad.

 That’s what he tells everyone, that’s what he tells Midorima, that’s what he tells himself. He’s not so sure about that, he’s not sure he believes it himself.

Takao tells himself that Midorima isn’t crazy, but he’s still the one that sees Midorima’s cold, untrusting eyes everywhere he turns. In the morning when Midorima shoves him out of bed and screaming at his face, the face he would call impostor. The face he can’t even remember as he would always cup it with his hands and bring it closer to him. But that’s the past, Midorima is different now but Takao refuse to think he’s crazy. When he gets home after class, Midorima would turn hoping it is the Takao he is looking for, only to be disappointed. When Midorima curls into himself and say how he misses the one that comes in the morning.

 Takao trudges his way to Kagami’s apartment three floors above, where half of his clothes are just so he can change into them in the morning and possibly trick Midorima into thinking he’s the right Takao. Rain is pouring relentlessly outside, and Takao stops by an open window just to watch it pelt against the grimy glass. 

 Kagami’s doorbell is so loud he can hear the buzzing from the other side of the door, and there was a bit of banging and tumbling around before it opens. Kagami’s steps back for Takao to step in delicately, raising an eyebrow at the mess on the floor of the living room. Clothes are thrown everywhere and he bends down and picks up a pair of boxers with puppies printed all over them.

 ”Nice,” he says, and Kagami splutters, snatching it out of Takao’s fingers.

 ”Go change,” he mutters and Takao snickers, shucking his shirt off. 

 ”Didn’t know you’d be sleeping with anyone on a school night,” Takao calls, his voice echoing through the hallway. 

 ”I-shut up, okay?” Kagami says, his face red. Takao feels something soft connect to the back of his head and a dark blue settles over his vision. “I forgot, I threw your stuff in my wash. Your welcome.”

 ”Oh, thanks.” Takao says. “Well, is he worth a school night?” 

 ”If you don’t stop talking I swear I will stick this toothbrush-”

“Okay, okay. Christ.” Takao says, slipping the blue cardigan on. He realized it’s just a little small on him, then he remembers it belonged to Akashi. The one he borrowed from a month ago when this all had happened.

 Kagami softens slightly, “Any improvements this morning?” 

 ”No,” Takao says, with the pretense of sounding extraordinarily calm, “Shoved me out of bed and told me to rely stuff to myself. Then here I am again. Nothing new.” He squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush slowly, deliberately watching it settle into it’s bristles before laughing humorlessly. “I wake up with one guy in the morning and get ready with another and neither of them gets angry. That’s all I can ask for right now.” 

 Kagami shoots him an apologetic face through the mirror. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked gently through a mouthful of foam. 

 ”What is there to talk about?” Takao says as he jams his toothbrush to his mouth as of this sealed his point.

 ”You’re my friend,” Kagami states. “You and Midorima both. I just don’t want to see you hurting… Either of you.” 

 ”We’re past the point of hurting,” Takao bends slightly to spit into the sink. “We have no idea how long this will last, no one really knows. It’s been different in every case. We just have to learn to live with it and-” he sighs. “Hope for the best.”

Kagami holds out Takao’s phone, exactly seven thirty. Takao takes it from him grunting his appreciation, and trudge his way to the kitchen. It’s the quietest in the morning and Takao settles into the only unbroken chair. Taking a deep breath, he dials Midorima’s phone.

He picks up on the first ring. 

“Takao?” He asks hopefully. 

 ”Hey, Shin-chan.” 

 ”Takao, why are you never home?” Midorima asks. “You’re never home. It’s been a month now- where are you?”

 ”I’m sorry Midorima shin.” Takao says. “I have to do something and.. I can’t tell you what it is.” 

 ”You’re not cheating on me,right?” 

 ”Of course not, I just…. I’m sorry.” Takao says. 

 ”Takao, there’s a stranger living in the house, aren’t you worried?” Midorima asks. “He looks exactly like you. A perfect carbon copy.” 

 ”I’m not worried,” Takao says. “You don’t even kiss me in public what makes you think I’d be worried about you sleeping with. Stranger?” 

 ”Urusai,” it was almost like Takao can feel the heat of Midorima cheeks through the phone. “Though you can never be too sure, what if I get drunk? You know how low my tolerance is with alcohol.” 

 ”Let’s not talk about it.” Takao says and Midorima cackles. Tears almost comes to his eyes at how much he misses hearing Midorima real laughs. Sure he’s rare to show it even before this had happen. But he would always show them to Takao and he misses being the Takao he asks for every morning. 

 ”When are you coming home?” Midorima asks in a small voice. 

 ”Soon.” 

 ”How soon?” 

 ”Not soon enough,” Takao says, and Midorima makes a little whine of agreement. “I have to go now.”

 ”Okay, Takao?” 

 ”Yeah?”

 ”I love you.”

Takao’s heart does something a little funny.

 ”I love you too.” 

 A month ago, Midorima had been walking home from practice, just an hour before Takao got out of extra classes he took. Midorima had been walking at the crosswalk, tired and weary and he hadn’t been looking for the walk signal, just eager to go home and crash into the sheets. From what Takao was told, at least it had been fast and relatively painless, but he’d gotten there to see the blood and he’s never been so terrified in his life.

 Honestly, he’s amazed at how Midorima is even alive. He landed head first onto the asphalt and he woke up after surgery and had miraculously, still been able to talk. Kagami told him that Takao had been the first person he asked for.

The thing was, when Takao had bent over Midorima’s bedside, sick with worry and sleep deprivation.

 Midorima frowned and said.

“You’re not Takao.”

That had only been the beginning. 

 —- 

 ”Hi Akashi,” Takao says not bothering to look up at the figure shadowing over him as he works diligently on his essay. The boy dropped into the chair across the library table.

 ”Kagami told me you were here.” Akashi did not bother stalling, as he stare back at Takao with those hetero chromatic eyes. 

 ”I’m far more curious as to why you we’re looking for me to begin with.” Takao says. “I’m listening.”

 ”Wow, aren’t you sensitive.” Akashi sneers, and Takao just sighs and turns his attention back to his essay when Akashi speaks again. “Kagami told me nothing’s getting better.”

 Takao pressed the graphite of his pen harder into the paper that it breaks and twiddled away. He turned to Akashi eyes filled with anger.

“If you don’t shut up. I will take this textbook and smash it into your genitals.”

 ”If it was getting better you wouldn’t had broke your pencil.” Akashi says. “I’m not here to laugh at you or tell you what to do. Even I think that’s a dick move, I’m just here to inform you I’m studying it.”  Takao’s eyes roam over him with a hint of confusion.

“I’m working with the best neurologists in the field, we’re looking into conditions similar to his.” It almost seems like he’s trying to comfort Takao but he feels far from comfort. 

 ”You suck at comforting people,” Takao says. “And you’re mean.” 

 ”No,” Akashi smirks and stand up, taking his backpack and lazily slinging it over his shoulder. 

“I just tell people the truth they don’t want to hear.“ 

 —- 

 Sometimes Takao needs Akashi, needs the truth. To possibly snap him out of that mindset that maybe one day when he gets home Midorima will greet him with a smile on his face like he would.

This time was not any different. 

 ”Oh, it’s you again.” Midorima says flatly eyeing him above the rim of his glasses that are forever sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Are you staying the night?” 

 ”Yeah, I hope you don’t mind.” Takao says forcing a smile off his face. Midorima sets his book face down on the table before speaking again. 

 ”Look, Akashi talked to me.” 

 ”Damnit. When will he learn to mind his own business?” Takao says angrily, not to Midorima but more to Akashi. Midorima curled into himself.
It’s no wonder he thinks you’re an impostor, Takao thinks bitterly. You usually don’t act like this

"He told me the main gist of it.. I know you’re Takao.. But.. Your just..” Midorima trails. “Your just not.. Him. You’re not Takao." 

 ”I’m sorry,” Takao says. “Midorima, I’m sorry.” 

 ”I am too.” 

 —- 

 Takao always seemed to have an awkward timing, he lets himself into Kagami’s apartment when Kuroko happens to be there. Midorima is having another episode in which he talks about the other Takao, their other home and the other Midorima-and the only way to stop it is for Takao to get out of his sight. 

 He squints at the couch, which was vibrating from the force of the bed frame slamming into the other side of the thin walls and decides to sit in the kitchen instead. Taking out his phone, Takao stares at the background- Takao had his arms around Midorima neck his smile so big that his eyes were dark half moons. Midorima on the other hand covered his visible blush reaching out to the phone as to snatch it away. Takao remembered taking it six months ago when things had been beautiful.

He wants to call Midorima, calm him down. But he doesn’t want to scare him either.

 ”Whoa, Fuck,” Kagami says walking into the kitchen stark naked. Takao turns to look at him dully.

 ”Want a towel?”

 ”Screw you,” Kagami says, his face crimson and grabbing a dish towel to cover his still-hard member. “Can you.. Like not?”

 ”I would say don’t walk around naked with come dripping off on you, but I guess I’m not really in a position to talk.” Takao says. 

 ”Yes, exactly, now can you please look away so I can get myself decent. Please and thank you.”

 ”Okay, princess.” Takao says, turning away until Kagami splutters again. He now at least has sweatpants on and does not have.. Dripping stuff on his chest.
 

"Is he-freaking out again?”

Takao stares into the dregs of the wineglass on the table wordlessly. 

 ”Takao I don’t think you should leave him when he gets like that, what if he hurts himself?” 

 ”He doesn’t want to see my face during those times.” Takao says. “That’s how I got this.” He shows Kagami two long scratching along the length of his left arm.

 ”Do you prefer to let things stay like this over a couple of scratches?” Kagami says looking unimpressed. “Takao, you say he goes on about things like the other Midorima-that he doesn’t even believe he is his real self sometimes. How do you know he won’t do something stupid?”

 ”Like what?”

 Kagami sighs running his hand through his messy hair. “Where is Akashi when you need him?” He mutters before exhaling harshly again. “Kill himself, goddammit, do I really have to say it like that? What if he accidentally kills himself?” 

Takao opens his mouth to protest but closes it quickly when he remembers, the way Midorima’s hands start shaking when he slips into his episode. The way he’ll grip and pull on his hair so hard he doesn’t seem to realize he’s pulling strands. The way he’ll dig his nails into his own palms until he releases them to be left with two handfuls of crusted blood. The way he’ll scrunch into a ball, keening, shrieking, and screaming for truth.

Then Takao finds himself taking the stairs back up to the floor for two-three-four at a time. His fingers fumbled with the jumble of keys and he drops them twice, but he eventually bursts through the door to find Midorima curled on the floor, breathing hard and shivering.

 ”Shin-chan.” Takao says breathlessly. “Shintarou..”

 Midorima doesn’t respond , and Takao kneels down until he’s sure he’s in Midorima’s field of vision. When the other doesn’t flinch away, he inches forward slowly until he can curl his finger around Midorima’s unusual and frightful bony wrist. Midorima looks up at him and whimpers, and Takao feels his hand moving on their own accord, pulling the boy into his chest until he can feel Midorima’s rib age shuddering against his own. Midorima doesn’t pull away. 

 In such a long time, Takao hasn’t feel so right for so long. 

 —

 ”How much do you know?”

 ”Enough,” Takao says. “But enlighten me.”

 ”What did the doctors tell you?” 

 ”Don’t push him into believing anything.” Takao replies simply. 

 ”Would you like me to dumb into down for you?” Akashi says. 

 ”I’d rather not hear the textbook recitation of it, thank you.” Takao says, around a mouthful of burrito. 

 ”Well-you need to know some things. There a specific place in your brain that controls your sight, another one that controls emotion- or rather plays a part in controlling emotion. They are connected. You follow?” A nod. “Looking and seeing are not the same thing, that’s what people say. Well this is basically a scientific explanation of it, if you look at something you only see it for what it is. But if you see something, you have some kind of an emotional response to it.” 

“So?”

 ”What that means,” Akashi continues. “Is that to see and recognize something, or someone your vision and emotional centers have to be connected. At least properly communicate.” He says “You see me, you brain goes and evokes the appropriate memories. Then you interpret me as Akashi Seijuro, the mean asshole.”

 ”Sounds accurate. I’m following.”

 ”What might be the issue with Midorima is that the accident severed that connection between his occipital lobe and his limbic system-” Takao stops him with a hand. 

 ”English is fine, thanks.”

 Akashi rolled his eyes and continues. “Well okay, his vision and emotional centers- and when he sees you he feels nothing.”

 ”Nothing.” Takao repeats numbly.

 ”He doesn’t feel the same warmth and affection as he used to when he sees you. Think about a stranger you meet eyes on the street. Do you feel anything when they look at you? Usually not. His memories are perfectly intact, there is nothing wrong with his frontal lobe where his long-term memory is stored. That’s why when he sees you- he knows your face, but he doesn’t feel the same way. So his brain is telling him your some kind of impostor.”  Takao opens his mouth,closes it and opens it again. 

“I.”

 ”You’re still wearing my cardigan.” Akashi suddenly points out. “I need that back eventually.”

 ”I.Wait,Go back. What?”

 ”Please clarify what you’re confused about.”

 ”How do you know that he remembers me.. And that he’s not just..” 

 ”Insane?” Akashi supplies. “Does he ever accuse you of being an impostor when he hears you over the phone?”

 ”He. I.” 

 ”Kagami told me that too. That you call him every morning after you two are done washing up,” Akashi says. “So I brought it up to my professors and they think that his vision center is severed from his emotional center, but his auditory center isn’t-that’s how he recognizes your voice on the phone. On the phone, you’re not an impostor.” Akashi drops his voice, even though it’s so loud Takao doubts anyone could hear the conversation anyway. “On the phone, he still loves you.” 

 Takao dry-heaves. In the next seconds, he running to the trash can bending over to watch all his lunch come back up, the smell of acid burning his nose. He feels a light hand on his back and Akashi hands him his can of Coke. It makes his mouth feel even nastier but atleast his nose just burns with the fizz of bubbles this time. 

 ”Sorry, I suppose I should’ve waited until all that Mexican food was out of your system,” Akashi says smiling ruefully. He hand him his water after takao downs the rest of the coke.

 —- 

 Takao is so supremely late to class the next morning. He ends up sleeping in through every single class before lunch. He wakes up and stares at the blank ceiling and wonders just what the hell happened. When he turns and sees the imprint of Midorima’s body in the sheets next to him.

For a second nothing makes sense until Takao realizes that this morning did not start off with being shoved out onto the floor and losing a neuron or two. He’s too shock to jump our of bed, pulling socks and a shirt on in panic and simply lies there and lets the truth sink in; Midorima didn’t freak upon waking up with the other Takao in his bed.

Takao falls into his seat in economics in a daze, Kagami who sits beside him gives him a long once-over before he says, “hello to you too.”

 ”Oh, uhm. Hi.” Takao says a little hazily. “Good. Afternoon?” 

 ”What happened this morning. I thought you were stuck in a tree or something.”

 ”Midorima didn’t wake me.”

Kagami glance at him. 

“Didn’t wake you as in didn’t kindly shake your shoulders and lift you out of slumber, or didn’t wake you as in he didn’t kick your ass out of bed?" 

 ”The latter.” 

 ”Are you saying he didn’t had another episode?” Kagami clarifies, “which is why you didn’t wake up?”

 ”Yes,” Takao says carefully. “Don’t say it too much, I’m scared it won’t be true if you keep repeating it.”

 Kagami rolled his eyes at him, “Did you tell Akashi about this yet?” 

 ”I didn’t want to.” takao sighs, “He’s going to objectify and trivialize it.”

 ”But that what Akashi does,” Kagami says, “He breaks things down little by little until they are nothing but the pieces from which they are made.” He turns to look at Takao. “But he’s also exceptionally good at showing you how to put those pieces back together when he’s done. “ 

 Takao doesn’t even have to ask, Midorima brings it up the second he pops into the apartment to grab a jacket before he has to go to a project meeting with Miyaji and Kimura. 

 ”Takao-the real one- he was here last night, wasn’t he?”

Takao freezes halfway through shrugging on his jacket, one hand in the slew and the other still on the collar. 

"Sorry?” He says, afraid to turn around he didn’t realize Midorima was even home. 

 ”He was here last night, in my bed. Where did you go?” 

 ”I thought.. You might want to see him. So I told him to go visit you. I didn’t want to scare you so I told him to come by when you would be asleep. You know how bad he is at staying awake.” He finish off with a forced chuckle. 

“That was awfully nice of you,” Midorima swallows. “Thank you." 

 ”You’re welcome,” Takao says, his throat constricting. Threatening to cut off any steady speech he had left. 

 ”Will he be back?”

 ”Maybe,” Takao murmurs. “Maybe he will.” 

 —- 

 Takao is too scared to tell Akashi, he doesn’t want to be told that this is all just a fluke. That there’s no way Midorima is possibly getting better. If Midorima is Takao’s delusions, Akashi is his truth, and Takao has spent the days after the accident running from the truth.

He doesn’t really need Akashi to tell him anything, the next morning, Takao has been woken up by being shoved out of bed at seven AM. Midorima hissing at him like a rattle snake. It took every willpower he has to not show how crushed he is and ask Midorima what he wants to tell the real Takao. And he was answered sentences to rely to himself and they burn harder in his head. (Where are you? Come back. I miss you. I love you.)

 ”Good morning,” Kagami says pleasantly when Takao decides to just let himself in the bathroom without knocking, he thought since he’s seen Kagami in the nude he decides he’s seen it all. “I see you didn’t forget to set your alarm this morning.”

 ”Very funny.” Takao grumbles. He took his toothbrush. “Wow.” He says, examining the blossoming bruise across his cheekbone. “That looks nasty.”

 ”How rough is he? Does he actually still hit you?” Kagami asks, with genuine concern in his eyes.

 ”Not anymore.” Takao says, running his hands under the cold water and pressing his icy to the bruise to keep the swelling down. “Usually only when I get too near when he’s having an episode, I think I scared him.” 

 ”And he’s getting better right?” 

 Takao blankly stares at the running water, “I don’t know. I don’t want to get my hopes up for anything right now.” 

 —-

 Takao ends up turning in his project just in time.

 But his spirits are ruined when Akashi corners him with a dark look on his face. Now he had no where to run. Akashi even buys him a drink, so by the time he’s sitting down, he’s getting ready not to panic, but the vibration of his phone in his pocket as an indication he forgot to charge it made him even more jittery. 

 ”I heard he’s doing better.”

 ”I give up in trying to figure out how you ‘hear things,” Takao says. “But. There have been instances.”

 Akashi narrows his eyes at him. “If his occipital lobe is really severed from his limbic system-“

 ”Human-speak, please.”

 ”If his sight and emotion have really been disconnected, there’s no saying he’ll ever get better,” Akashi says. “Neurons don’t grow back. Even if they do not completely.”

 Takao feels something heavy settling in his stomach. “Just.. Can you just give it to me straight.” He whispers.

 ”He could be like this forever, Takao. For the rest of his life. We don’t know. “

 ”But.. He cant..” Takao whispers. 

 ”He could be.” Akashi says heavily. ” I just want you to be fully aware of this so it doesn’t come as a complete shock.” He looks at Takao. “Midorima Shintarou isn’t Midorima Shintarou without Kazunari Takao,” he says, a sad smile fitting across his lips. “You are so intrinsically his as he is yours that I can’t see him ever being whole without you.” He then scoffs and turns away. “Wow, that was actually the nastiest thing I ever said in my life. But you guys are like roman arches- every single piece is needed to support a roman arch, especially the keystone. You’re like… You’re like his keystone. He’s like yours. Without it neither of you can really hold yourselves up.” 

 ”Stop,” Takao says, “I don’t want to make it a routine to vomit every time I talk to you.” 

 Akashi stand up, sits up on the table and slides into the empty spot next to Takao. Here he is, telling Takao how to put every piece back together only to admit there is no way for Takao to fully achieve a complete piece.

He brings his arms up, pulling Takao’s head down to his shoulder. For the first time, he doesn’t have a word to say.

 —-

 Takao doesn’t remember where Akashi says he has to go, he didn’t really bother to remember either. He’s unfamiliar to this part of the campus and he looks up when it starts to rain. Frowning at the sky before running for cover. There isn’t a single convenient overhang anywhere near him, so he settle into the campus phone booth to escape the downpour. His phone is completely dead, and he frowns again.

 He needs to call Midorima before he starts wondering.

Would Midorima wonder where he, the imposter Takao, is? His hand rest on the cold plastic of the public phone for a few seconds before he can even bring himself to lift it off the receiver and drop in several coins. Midorima’s phone rings four times she he answers it, sounding like he had rushed to catch it.

 ”Hello?”

 ”Midorima?”

 ”Takao!” He says. “I-what-where are you calling from? What is this number? I didn’t see your caller ID.”

 ”Midorima, I can’t find my way home.”

“What? How can you not? Where are you?”

 ”School, I was talking to Akashi and I wondered into the part of the campus I haven’t seen before. It’s dark and raining so, I’m just going to hang out here until the rain lets up… I guess.”

 ”No,where are you? I’ll come find you!” 

 ”I don’t have enough money to stay on the line very long, Shin-chan.” His voice suddenly breaks without warning. 

 ”Hey,hey,What happened?” Midorima asked, sounding worried. A mousing rustling tells Takao he’s probably pulling on his raincoat. “Takao,what’s wrong?”

 ”Just keep talking.” Takao says thickly. Hot tears brimming his eyes. “Just keep talking, I don’t know how long you’ll be able to hear me.” 

 ”I hear you! Don’t worry!” 

 ”Shin-chan, what if you can never find me, ever again?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. 

"Midorima what’s wrong?" 

 ”I’m fine, it’s okay.” His voice contradicting his every word. “I’m just scared you’ll never see me again.” 

 ”Don’t be an idiot,” Midorima says. “Don’t be an idiot.” 

 ”I’m sorry.”

 ”Where are you?”

 ”Uh.. A phone booth,” Takao says, “it’s at the medical side of the campus, Rakuzan, I think.”

 ”Oh, I know where that is,” Midorima says. “Don’t hang-“ 

 The line suddenly goes dead and Takao curses, digging around in his pockets. But he’s out of change. He turns his bag upside down on the cold stone floor to search for coins. He goes through the papers rifling through then until he scrounges up enough change for another few minutes. He straightens up pushing the coins into the slot and dialing Midorima’s number again.

 ”Sorry, ran out of coins.” He says the second Midorima pick up. “Where are you now?” 

 ”Rakuzan has three phone booths and the second one is empty, so I’m going to check the last one. If you’re not there then clearly you’re so lost that you don’t even know which division you’re in.” He pauses. “Wait.”

 ”What?” 

 ”Wait, are you sure you’re in Rakuzan?” 

 ”I’m sure?”

 ”Can you look up for me?” Midorima asks, voice shaking,and Takao not fully understanding, looks up. Midorima standing just outside the frosted glass of the phonebooth. umbrella held over his head and phone to his ear, making his face glow pale and eerie in the darkness. Takao stares at him, then he realizes, Midorima is hearing the real Takao and seeing him at the same time. 

 ”Shin-Chan,” he says, Midorima steps back as though he had punched him. “I’m scared I’ll never see you again.”

 ”I can see you just fine, Kazunari Takao.” Midorima says, voice fragile. Almost broken. “I can see you just fine.” 

 That night, things are beyond awkward until Midorima reaches forward and embraces Takao. There is nothing out of place about Midorima tangling their legs together. Nothing out of place about his arms around Takao so tightly. It was all so right and for once it is no longer a fantasy, or a nightmare. They held each other so tightly that there isn’t room for a single seed of doubt. 

 —-END—-

 

A/N:

Based on a real condition called Capgras Delusion.
After a week I finished this… 

 The Cab is perfection and so is MidoTaka. 

 (This fic is also in my wattpad.)

hey. hey. hey–

spikekat:

i would like to challenge all of you, right now, to look up your five favorite writers/page over to your five most recent fave fics and leave a comment. tell that writer what you like about them, or just that you enjoy the things they create. quote your favorite line, your favorite part of a fic, the thing you’ve reread over and over. thank them. throw in some emojis. you can do it anonymously if you want! or not! but comments are so important for writers and honestly, we could all use some positivity and kindness spread around right now.

some examples/suggestions:

  • “hello! i love your fic ____, especially the part where _____. Thanks for writing!”
  • “i enjoy the things you make, thanks for that”
  • “______ part of your fic made me laugh/cry/get a boner/have to lie down in a dark room for an hour.”
  • “NICE”
  • “I liked reading this more than frogs like damp mud.”
  • “ “______” from your fic ______ was so good, nice job!”

  • “this fic made my grandmother rise from the dead to wreak havoc on my terrible soul, it was sick, thank you”

please Akafuri of MidoTaka proposel :3

bisexuallhowl:

(Sorry it took so long. Bit of an AU too.)

The first time Seijūrō saw Kōki drawing he was fascinated and moved forwards as if a magnet was attracting him. To begin with, all he saw was the dance of the charcoal across the page; he didn’t see until much later the expressions on Kōki’s face as if he had found some place in the world where he could settle into the cast of what he wanted to be. Kōki noticed when he was looking over his shoulder and slammed the sketchbook shut, before immediately blanching. “I’m sorry, Akashi-san,” he said, though he still pushed the book behind him. “I’m not good enough to show people.” He hunched his shoulders.

Keep reading

omgericzimmermann:

yukieakasaka:

lush employee: hello, how can I–

me: hello, potion seller. I am going into battle and I need your strongest potions.

It starts, as these things always do, with a mistaken identity. It’s only her second day at work, and despite the rigorous training, she’s still not entirely convinced of what everything is. It’s sort of like when you sit an exam and even though you’ve revised over and over again the night before, and the weeks leading up to, as soon as you open the test booklet, all of your knowledge vanishes in a wisp of smoke.

So when the customer asks her for “the special” she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“I’m sorry, sir, which special? Was there a cut out or an advert that you saw?” she asks, hoping for some kind of clarification.

The man just rolls his eyes, looking like he’s tired of her shit. She doesn’t know what shit she’s supposed to have given him.

“The special, come on kid, you’re the one, aren’t you? I was told the manager here is–”

“Oh gosh, so sorry, no I’m not the manager,” she interrupts. “Let me get him for you.”

She runs off to get the manager, who instantly whisks the customer behind the curtain to the break room. This is odd, as far as she knows, and when she ducks behind the curtain herself to grab a drink of her water bottle, neither of them are there.

She decides that whatever’s going on is far above her pay grade, and so she lets it go.

At least, until it happens again.

It’s a different customer. It’s a different special. It’s the same manager who takes them into the break room and vanishes for half an hour. She starts going through what might be happening, what might have come of the customers who never returned, and what could possibly be in these “specials.”

It’s a few months later that she finds out.

She and the manager are alone in the store, and it’s late. They’re the only store still open in this area of town, and there hasn’t been a customer in two hours. She’s hoping that maybe, just maybe, this means they’ll get to close early and she can go home and revise for her O-Chem exam the next week. But that doesn’t happen, because the door opens and a woman she recognizes as having asked for a special earlier in the month bursts into the store clutching a gaping wound in her side. But it’s not a proper wound. There’s blood, sure, but the edges are purple and sparking.

“Help,” she says, and then she collapses on the floor.

They’re a cosmetics shop. They sell soaps, and shampoos, and mustache wax, and sure their product is nice in quality compared to other comparable brands, but they are not, as far as she knows, equipped to handle sparking purple wounds.

The manager sighs like he’s seen this all before and heads over to the door to lock it. She watches this happen in shock.

“Grab her arm for me, would you?” the manager requests, picking up the woman’s other arm. She helps the manager pick up the woman, and together they steer her into the break room.

The manager leans the injured woman against her side and reaches over to the staff cubbies. He fiddles with something in his own cubby, and then with a hissing sound, the entire shelving unit sinks into the floor. She watches in awe as it turns into a narrow set of stairs leading down into…something.

She and the manager help the woman down the stairs and it turns out to be some kind of den, some alchemist’s workstation straight from the sixteenth century. There’s a still, there’s a different set of pigeonhole shelves full of…things…that she doesn’t want to think about too hard. There’s a decorative globe of the moon that seems to be lit to the appropriate phase of the lunar cycle. And there’s a chaise lounge that might have come directly from Bohemian Paris circa 1899. It is to this lounge that they manoeuver the woman. She groans as they put her down.

“Would you go get me – yes, you stop looking like you just got cursed – would you get me the yellow bottle from that shelf?” the manager requests.

She looks for the shelf, spies the yellow bottle, and lunges for it. She hands it to the manager who applies the equally yellow substance inside – which seems to be smoking – to the woman’s wound. Before her eyes, the wound turns red instead of purple, and knits itself shut.

“You’re some kind of alchemist?” she demands of her manager while the woman groans.

“Yeah,” he says, mostly ignoring her.

“And all these people who keep asking you for ‘the special’ are looking for potions?” she asks. She can hear her voice getting shrill.

“Yes, and I’d appreciate if you would keep that to yourself,” he says.

“Keep it to myself? What the shit that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard!” she exclaims. The manager eyes her warily. “Can you teach me?”

“Are you asking to be my apprentice?” the manager asks, now looking just a little amused.

There’s no hesitation when she says, “Hell yes.”

The manager sighs, but agrees, and turns back to his – their – patient. The woman is waking up, seeming nonplussed by the hole in her seriously badass leather jacket. At least there’s not a hole in her side anymore.

“You fixed me up, huh?” the woman asks, eyeing the manager. “Knew I could count on you.”

She bounds forward, peering over the manager’s shoulder to better observe this woman. The woman is younger than she thought, her hair a true metallic silver rather than grey. The woman is…kinda cute.

“My…apprentice…helped,” the manager says, acknowledging her with a slight nod.

The woman eyes her, and she’s vain enough to think it might be curiously.

“Well let us hope both you and your apprentice will be around for a long while,” the woman says, and then the woman vanishes, leaving her and the manager alone together in the den. She looks at the manager and beams, and although he just sighs in resignation, she thinks that this is gonna be awesome.

Please please write a fic about seijo or nekoma playing lazertag!

umisabaku:

“Remember, we are blood.
Never stop flowing, keep moving, keep bringing in oxygen, so our brain can
operate at his best,” Kuroo declares.

“I want to go home,”
Kenma says.

“Kenma, don’t be like
that,” Kuroo says. “How great is it that we get to play against Seijoh? This is
a once in a lifetime chance to prove our superiority.”

“I didn’t even want to
do this to begin with,” Kenma says. “And I definitely don’t want to make this a
competition.”

“Too late, it’s definitely
a competition!” Yamamoto crows. “We’re going to kick their butts so hard
they’re going to feel it all the way back to Miyagi.”

“I really, really don’t
want to do this,” Kenma says.

“Come on, Kenma. I
thought you’d like laser tag. You get to shoot things just like in a
video game!”

Kenma glares at his
boyfriend. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

*

“As always, I have faith
in you,” Oikawa says, with his standard smile that in most situations is very
inspiring.

“I’m not entirely sure
what the point of this is,” Hanamaki says.

“The point is to prove
that we’re the best. We are the best, aren’t we?” Oikawa replies. “You
don’t want to let those boys from Tokyo think we don’t know how to play laser
tag, do you?”

“Heck no!” Kindaichi
bursts out, “We’ll show those city boys who’s boss!”

“Why are you like this?”
Iwaizumi asks.

“I have no idea what
you’re talking about, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replies.

*

“Rules are simple,”
Kuroo says. “Kill everyone. First team to lose all their members, loses the
game. Got it?”

“Wouldn’t have it any
other way,” Oikawa says during the handshake.

*

The problem, really,
that all the boys rapidly discover is that while they are all probably some of
the best high school volleyball players in Japan at the moment, none of them
are particularly good at laser tag.

*

“You shot me, you
idiot!” Inouka howls.

“Sorry, Inouka!” Lev
shouts, as he gleefully continues firing in every direction. Fukunaga and Kai
both leap to the ground to dodge his rapid, aimless firing.

“God, quit it,” Yaku
takes aim and fires.

“Hey, you shot me!” Lev
pouts.

“It was for the good of
the team,” Yaku says.

*

“How is it that we’ve
been playing for twenty minutes and we haven’t managed to land a single shot,
but they’ve taken four of our guys out?” Iwaizumi asks.

“That Russian kid took a
lot of us out when he went on a spree,” Watari says.

“How is our aim so bad?”
Oikawa says, outraged.

“This is our first
time,” Watari points out.

“We should still be
better than this!” Oikawa says.

“Well, we might not be
shooting them, but at least they’re shooting each other,” Yahaba says.

*

“Kenma, you can’t just
sit here the entire time,” Kuroo says exasperatedly.

“Hm. Yeah. Pretty sure I
can,” Kenma says. He’s hiding behind a barrel with his laser gun off to the side,
concentrating on his handheld game. “You could always shoot me. That would save
some time.”

“I’m not going to shoot
you.”

“It seems to be the
Nekoma way,” Kenma says.

“Lev had it coming. Kai
was an accident. You could at least help us strategize.”

“I am strategizing,” Kenma
says, not looking up from his game. “I’m strategically sitting right here.”

*

“That’s it,” Kyoutani
says, “I’m Die Harding this. If I go down, I’m taking them with me.”

“That’s not what happens
in Die Hard,” Yahaba says.

Kyoutani jumps over a
barrel and charges, firing everywhere.

*

“Tch,” Kuroo says. He
takes some small comfort in the fact that sure, Nekoma lost, but at least it
was mostly by their own hand. He’s glad Oikawa can’t brag to the other volleyball captains
over this as a victory. (He’s pretty sure this game is not something anyone is
going to brag about). “Guess this is your win.”

“But of course!” Oikawa
says.

“You were shot, you
don’t get to gloat—” Iwaizumi says.

“Sh, Iwa-chan!”

“Hey, where’s
Kenma-san?” Lev asks.

A sudden burst of
zapping comes out of nowhere, taking the last of the Aoba Jousai team out with
distinct precision that no one had previously displayed in this game.

Kenma emerges from his
hiding spot. “Can we go home now?”

A/N: Thanks, anon-friend! I
am sorry for how long this took. Also, I really know nothing about laser tag.
Hope you enjoyed anyway!!

Graduation [KiKasa]

thanksillpass:

Kasamatsu thinks this is what dying feels like – you can’t breathe and can feel your brain collapsing on itself, the desperate rush of blood the only sound you can hear. His face feels hot, his palms are wet, and Kise is looking at him patiently and respectfully like Yukio doesn’t look like he’s choking on his own tongue at all.

He tries to calm down by reminding myself that this is it – the graduation, the last stop; they won’t see each other ever again, probably, not if Kasamatsu can help it, he’s going far away enough anyway. Kise rocks on the balls of his feet awkwardly, still aggravatingly patient, and Kasamatsu grits his teeth.

He fists his palm and presses it against Kise’s chest, a little bit more violently than he intended, making Kise stagger back slightly and frown in confusion. Yukio uncurls his fingers slowly and presses his hand flat against Kise’s heart, still unable not looking at him.

He lets go then and turns around to leave, hears a gasp escape Kise’s lips but he keeps going, he won’t turn back, he can’t face him. That’s the one challenge Kasamatsu Yukio has to back down from and he deserves the privilege of running away, he’s worked hard enough to earn it. He’s not a coward.

“You’re a coward, senpai!” Kise shouts, and Yukio falters in his steps.

Keep reading

Just A Taste: KnB Fic (AkaFuri)

courtingstars:

You can also read this fic on Ao3.

A shamefully
late fic for @cerberosthehellguard, for the AkaFuri Secret Valentine exchange. Thanks so much for being so
patient with me, dear Niri! ❤️

Rating: PG (kissing)

Word Count:
8,000

Warnings: Toothache-inducing
couple. Poetry quotes, because nerds. Demisexual character. Tons of references
to Japanese traditions for Valentine’s Day. Mild angst, because this will
eventually be part of a larger story that spans decades. (… I have a problem. OTL)

Summary: For their first Valentine’s Day together, Furihata makes Akashi a batch of homemade chocolate. Akashi decides to reciprocate—and comes to a few realizations in the process.

A/N: Dear Niri, I
am so sorry your gift is so late! These last several months were hard for me,
but way more importantly, I wanted to make sure to give you the best gift I could. Which
meant that the idea for your fic somehow evolved into a gigantic project that’s
WAY bigger than anything I can finish this summer. OTL (It’s also full of
spoilers for things that happen in The Fast Train to Kyoto and its sequels.) So
instead, here’s the first fluffy chapter of that fic, which is also a
standalone story. And I’m going to return to this after I finish the
other AkaFuri fics I’ve told you about!

Anyway, I really hope
you like it, since you’re one of my favorite readers in the universe, and
an awesome friend. (I felt so lucky when I found out I would be writing for
you!) Your messages always brighten my day, so I hope this story brightens
yours. ❤


The first year, Furihata almost burned down his family’s
kitchen.

He should have known, he thought grimly, as he
surveyed the charred mess of chocolate swirled with fire extinguisher foam. He
wasn’t a bad cook, most of the time. In fact, he was probably the best in his
family, next to his mom.

But whenever Furihata attempted to make
something for Akashi Seijuurou, it always turned into some bizarre disaster.
Probably because he was trying way too hard. Psyching himself out. The usual dumb
crap.

Not that he could help it, really. Feeling some
pressure was kind of inevitable, when you were dating a guy like Akashi.

Keep reading

Just coming into your inbox to tell you how wonderful I find the D:M series. NGL I have read all of the stories at least twice/thrice because they are just so well written. I’ve never really read much KiKasa or MidoTaka but yours gives me life. And AkaFuri has always been my #1 so yeah yours is bEST. ANYWAY! Thanks so much for D:M! If you have time/want to, I’d love to see a little fic with KiKasa. Specifically: Ultra scary/intimidating Kise over a oblivious-to-how-attractive-he-is!Kasamatsu xD

umisabaku:

Kasamatsu Yukio spent
the majority of his life being largely indifferent to Valentine’s Day. Having
no sisters or female cousins or female childhood friends to give him obligatory
chocolate, and being absolutely incapable of holding a conversation with the
girls in his class, it never really seemed like a holiday that was worth his
attention.

He expects this holiday
to be slightly different, only because it’s Kise’s first Valentine’s at Kaijo,
and if nothing else, Kasamatsu expects to spend the day thoroughly exhausted
with having to deal with Kise and his fanclub.

So it is somewhat of a
surprise when he gets up in the morning only to realize that Kise has left for
school without him.

*

“I hate this holiday,”
Kise says, in dark thunderous tones. Kasamatsu has never heard him speak with
such intense loathing.

“Er,” Kasamatsu starts.
He’d jokingly said, “Why did you leave to school so early? Were you that eager
to get chocolate from your fans?” and he didn’t quite know how to respond to
this proclamation.

“This holiday is the
worst thing ever,” Kise continues.

“You have a lot of
chocolate, though, right?” Kasamatsu frowns. Because surely this isn’t the same
thing as Moriyama’s constant bemoaning of the “wretchedness and cruelty of this
day.” Moriyama, like most of the basketball players, never got chocolate.
Kasamatsu can already see Kise
with his accumulated piles of chocolate.

“That’s not the point!”
Kise insists. “The point is, it’s a stupid holiday! It emboldens people to
confess! Which is dumb! No one should confess their feelings, ever. Especially
not because a holiday told them too.”

“I guess?” Kasamatsu
says, seeing some of the logic there but certainly not all of it and also
wondering where the heck Kise was coming with all of this.

“Also, it’s completely
sexist and unfair. Boys should give chocolate too. Why can’t boys give
obligatory chocolate to the people they care about? Why is that not OK? Boys
might want to give chocolate to the people in their life they care about.”

“If you want to give
chocolate to someone, you should just give chocolate to someone,” Kasamatsu
says.

“I don’t want to give
chocolate to anyone,” Kise says, pouting.

“You’re not making any
sense,” Kasamatsu says.

“This holiday is the
worst.”

*

“Were you taking
chocolate out of Kasamatsu’s locker this morning?” Moriyama asks.

“I have no idea what
you’re talking about,” Kise says through gritted teeth.

Some realization flashes
across Moriyama’s face, “There were rumors last year of some crazy chick going
around threatening people who prepared chocolate for Kasamatsu. I didn’t really
believe it at the time…”

“And you don’t believe
it now, right, Moriyama-senpai?” Kise seethes.

“Riiiiight. You know
most of that was just obligatory chocolate anyway, you can’t really deny a guy
obligatory chocolate on Valentine’s Day, that’s just petty—yeah, fine, fine,
you be you.” He backs away at Kise’s glare.

Valentine’s Day is full
time work, and Kise resents the hell out of this. It is the dumbest holiday in
the world and he doesn’t even get chocolate from Kasamatsu. There is no
point to this holiday even existing.

*

“It’s just obligatory
chocolate,” the women’s basketball captain says. “I’ve known Kasamatsu for these
past three years—”

“If it’s just obligatory
chocolate, then you don’t really need to give it to him, do you?” Kise
says sweetly, while continuing to block her path.

“You can’t seriously
object to this, you’ve accepted dozens of chocolate today!”

“Listen, this is war,
all of the movies say so,” Kise insists. “Desperate times call for desperate
measures. Even obligatory chocolate is a confession of feeling something and
I can’t risk it. Also, I will bite off your hand if you keep trying to give him
that chocolate.”

“Fine!” She throws her
hands up in the air. “God, you are such a child!”

“A child who gets to
SLEEP IN THE SAME ROOM as him!” Kise tosses back, because let’s face it, he
needs to count his victories where he gets them.

*

Kise flops down on his
bed and hates everything. There was nothing like having a whole holiday
dedicated to expressing love to really drive in the unrequited nature of his
own obsession. And while yes he did see Kuroko’s point (who had been
very judgey, during Kise’s guerilla attack last year on Kaijo without anyone
knowing it was him thwarting all the chocolate delivery) that his behavior was
immoral and depraved and fine he also could see Moriyama’s point that
blocking the obligatory chocolate was kind of petty, he also didn’t
care. One bit. Because all the chocolate in the world didn’t make up for not
getting chocolate from the one person it matters and he hates everything.

Something drops on his
chest, causing him to look up and see a bar of chocolate, the kind sold at
convenience stores.

“Here,” Kasamatsu says.
“I have no idea what’s up with you, but stop being so cranky.”

“Senpai?” Kise says,
barely believing what was happening. If any of the other Miracles had the power
to shapeshift like he did, he might expect this to be a cruel prank.

“I stopped on my way
home to get some chocolate for Mizuki and Ren. I thought about what you said
about boys giving obligatory chocolate and I was thinking it’d be pretty sad
for those guys to not get anything just because we’re a family of all guys. I
figured I’d get some for you and my dad while I was at it.”

“Senpai! Thank you so
much! This is amazing! This is the best thing ever!” He stops himself from
gushing too much and also from jumping on the other boy. He can be restrained!
He can be! He looks down at the chocolate in wonder.

“You’re so weird,”
Kasamatsu says, laying down on his own bed. “You’ve gotten chocolate before.”

Kise has to hide his
face, so Kasamatsu won’t see his reaction. He’s sure that he must look
pathetically in love right now, so he just curls up facing the wall, still
clutching the chocolate. It’s only obligatory chocolate, he thinks. But
every chocolate was a dangerous sentiment, that’s why he couldn’t let anyone
give any to Kasamatsu before.

So this was a feeling,
even if it was an obligatory one, and he’ll take what he can get.

Maybe this holiday
wasn’t so bad after all.

A/N: Thank you, anon-friend!
I am very glad to hear that you enjoy Designation: Miracle! And I am always happy to write pining!Kise and oblivious!Kasamatsu. I
hope you don’t mind that I took this chance to write a Valentine’s Day fic.
It’s set before they hook up in Designation: Miracle, although I have no idea
when exactly because I am so bad about trying to navigate timelines. Woo for
lazy writing. Thanks again!! Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone!!!!