STUPID FIC IDEAS AT 9AM

UNREQUITED LOVE FT HINATA, CHIAKI AND KOMAEDA

THEY PLAY A DATING SIM TOGETHER AND TALK ABOUT WHAT TYPES THEY LIKE

CHIAKI ALLUDES THAT SHE LIKES HINATA’S TYPE AND VICE VERSA

kOMAEDA TRIES TO BURY THE PAIN BY SMILING AND LYING 

iNNNCLUDE THE LINE “BUT YOU CANT LOSE WHAT WAS NEVER YOURS”

you expected a lot of things from hinata hajime, more than you can count. students like this, they’re all supposed to be revered for the overwhelming hope they exude, and you think he’s no different, until you find out that he is.

its 5;30am i cant do this

it’s not like you keep him on a short leash. you don’t have to, since he never strays far and somehow, finds his way back to you. he says he’ll try to get distance, because he doesn’t want to be a bother for you. but he always comes back.

when he does show back up, you raise a brow, but don’t say anything. you let him into your house. you let him sit down on your bed. you let him talk about what went wrong this time. you let him think you still love him, like that. you think that maybe, it’s not fair to him, and it probably isn’t. but you like knowing you’re his moon and his stars, and that no one will ever come close to how grand you are in the eyes of this sad, sickly boy.

‘not really, no. you know i hate storms.’

you hear a hesitant laugh on the other end of the phone, one that’s followed by a thundering boom from the sky outside. as if on cue, the rain beats harder against the roof of the house, and you’re wondering if the windows are even going to last, considering the amount of rattling they seem to be doing.

on the other line, there’s a scuffling noise, one that you’re accustomed to by now. he’s dropped the phone again. you roll your eyes and move away from the windows, though you do not let the darkening sky leave your line of vision. it’s true, yes, you really don’t like storms. it’s not the rain that you mind, but the chaos of it all. flashing lights cracking the sky in every direction, the clouds reminiscent of a blackened sea.

you don’t care for oceans much, either. maybe that’s why you’ve made a habit of calling like this, whenever the recurrent downpours really get to you. for sure, he doesn’t mind, and you’d like to think that you don’t, either.

he’s become your whole world, and you don’t know if you can live with that.

you are in love with hinata hajime, and you have no intentions of denying it. rather, you tried to for days on end, and failed miserably. between thjeehhAHAIGS i cant write anymore its like 2:40am

he doesn’t remember what he’s looking for until he finds it.

whether it’s in the hatred ( sorrow ) of yata’s eyes or the burning of his own flesh, fushimi doesn’t know. the screaming in his chest means something, he’s sure, even with the voice ( yata’s ) in his head hissing traitor traitor traitor traitor traitor. it’s almost enough to stop him from plunging another knife into yata’s shoulder, but that’s not what this has been about. this never involved different factions or kings or colours or anyone at all but the two of them, and he would gladly suffer another set of blackened eyes or busted lips-  whether it’s his or yata’s blood he tastes on them now, he doesn’t know- if it means they can break each other down like this, nothing but bare bones, the skeleton in each others closets.

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