Wrestling In The Sand | InoTan

Fuck, how does one breathe again?

As Tanjirou opens the front door of his house, it creaks faintly, and he curses silently under his breath as he makes a mental note to put oil on the hinges.

It was well into the early morning, so his mother would be getting up for work soon, and he didn't need her catching him sneaking back in.

Especially since he thinks there's a high chance, he's still dangerously teetering the line of drunk and tipsy.

He locks the door behind him and starts a slow ascent up the stairs, avoiding the noisy parts until he makes it to his bedroom.

Once he's safe from being caught, his brain no longer filters out the thoughts at the back of his mind in favor of getting home in one piece.

The simple fact that Inosuke is leaving at the end of the summer completely overtakes his mind, and it injects a heavy sadness inside his bones. He can barely lift his legs as he strides across the room to his bed.

Of course, the first person he's ever developed a real crush on was someone who was only visiting for the summer and had to leave at the end of it. There was a twisted poeticness to it that made him want to laugh and cry and everything in between.

The teenager flops onto his twin mattress and pulls his phone out of his pocket, shooting Inosuke a text telling him he was home safe.

He suppresses the urge to scream as he stars up at his glow-in-the-dark stars.

.oOo.

The next time Tanjirou sees Inosuke, it's not planned; from his end, at least.

The surfer was feeling too cooped up in his house a few days after the party and decided it would be a good idea to drag Zenitsu to the beach so he could rant in person about how the ravenette was making him feel. They haven't seen each other much since then because the blonde's gramps was keeping him pretty occupied on the peach farm.

The best friends had just finished setting up their spot close to the water when Tanjirou heard a loud yell of his name a little far off. He looked up to find the culprit, only to see a flash of dark hair and feel a heavy-weight topple into him, knocking him to the ground.

So now here he was holding a bag of ice to Inosuke's forehead as he sulks about still not having a hard enough head to knock Tanjirou out.

"You're doing great, Inosuke, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't come at me like that anymore." Tanjirou leans back, letting Inosuke hold the makeshift icepack himself.

Zenitsu watches the ordeal from a few feet away, clearly holding his breath, considering the redhead hasn't seen his chest move since the other teenager arrived. When Inosuke tackled Tanjirou, the blonde moved his towel a few feet away, wanting to make sure he had an eye on the wild man but wasn't within a harmful range.

"Then how am I going to beat you, Monjirou?"

Tanjirou bites his tongue, holding the urge to correct Inosuke at bay.

"There's no need to beat me, Inosuke," Tanjirou hums lightly. "You're already strong in your own ways, and I was just born with a very, very thick skull."

Inosuke grumbles and scowls as he keeps holding the ice to his head. He looks around at the people passing their setup as Tanjirou makes eye contact with Zenitsu.

The blonde's eyes are wide, and his hands are clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles pale white. His golden irises signal to the ravenette before resuming their gaze at Tanjirou.

Tanjirou raises his eyebrows and scrunches his face in confusion, but the blonde repeats his cryptic action more intensely.

Then it hits him what Zenitsu is trying to tell him, and he looks toward Inosuke.