Wrestling In The Sand | InoTan

Perfect

To say Tanjirou feels like a shitty human being was putting it lightly.

He feels like the lowest of the low, right down there with murderers. Okay, maybe a step above murderers, but still down there.

Inosuke's expression of betrayal and disbelief is a constant after-image imprinted on the darkness of his eyelids he can't escape. The image haunts him throughout his dreams and his waking life until it essentially consumes him.

But maybe it's best to end things this way; before either of them becomes so attached that their beings intertwine into messy, unruly knots.

Inosuke can look back on the moment and make Tanjirou the villain to save himself from a harsher heartbreak.

It makes the redhead feel better and like he'll throw up simultaneously.

Tanjirou falls ungracefully onto his bed with a small huff as he stares at the dimly lit stars on his ceiling as Nezuko glares at him from across the room.

The stars seemed to be losing their spark faster than him.

A week has passed since Inosuke kissed him in the rain. He's been in his head ever since, thinking over every minor detail that lead up to the moment and figuring out what he could have done differently.

Maybe Tanjirou could have kissed the wild boy again after his confession and lived for once in his life instead of closing himself off.

But past actions are incapable of change, so what's the point of living through something that will never happen the way he wants it to.

Nezuko has taken it upon herself to invite Zenitsu over every day so the pair can corner him and attempt to coax an explanation out of him, but he can barely talk.

It's not that he doesn't want to, he does, but his body is physically incapable of communicating the surging regret coursing through the blood in his veins.

Hot and heavy and suffocating.

So now, the three of them are occupying Tanjirou's bedroom, Zenitsu and Nezuko huddled together by his desk as they watch the redhead throw an arm over his eyes.

"If he won't even tell you, his sister, what happened after a week, what makes you think he'll tell me?" Tanjirou can almost hear the way Zenitsu moves his hands around exasperatedly.

Nezuko sighs, voice laced with frustration, "Well, I'm at a loss, Zen. I've never had to deal with the woes of my brother's love life because he's never had one!"

She groans at the end of her sentence, and he can hear the wheels of his desk chair glide across the hardwood as she falls back into it.

A soft incredulous laugh falls from Tanjirou's lips, and he pushes himself up on his elbows to stare at the other teenagers.

"Talking about me like I'm not here is pretty rude." He frowns.

"So he does speak," Nezuko asserts at the same time Zenitsu cries, "Tanjirou!" and jumps onto his form, clinging to him tightly.

Tanjirou grunts and wraps his arms around the blonde, hugging him back before trying to push him off. He isn't successful and instead ends up leaning against his headboard while Zenitsu holds onto his waist, face shoved in his side.

Nezuko giggles, and the redhead shoots her a glare as he plays with the blonde's hair gently.

"Are you finally going to tell us what happened to make you so," Nezuko hums unsure as she motions vaguely to him. "That?"

Tanjirou rolls his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to concentrate on how silky Zenitsu's hair is to keep him grounded.

What did happen?