Growing up as a social person, Sora Suzuki was surrounded by love and affection- even from the most random people. Tender strokes, gentle kisses. Love came to him in the form of five unique beings, and damn, he's in deep. But when shit happens, and...
everything he's ever let go of had claw marks on it
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
NOVEMBER FOURTH, TWO THOUSAND AND TWELVE
9:22 in the morning
THE SWOLLEN PRE-WINTER SUN, gold with the old memories, echoes, of a fond summer, filled with honey, combed through the trees and slipped into a spacious living room bedizened with blankets and pillows orchestrated in their correct position, placed to the side, neat and tidy, ready to be put away once the day came to an end. In the middle, however, was a sprawled out male, hair resting on his own covers. Streams of sunlight illuminated his face, sharing a peek of the divine to the rest of the world.
As the light began to grow brighter, Sora Suzuki grunted, turning around on the fluffy comforter, his hand reaching out to grasp his blanket. Upon finding it, he tugged it over his warm body. The familiar material had his eyes opening wearily. Everything was blurry. For a second, he didn't know who he was or where he was. Sora didn't know how he ended up on the floor or how he ended up in his pyjamas. His face felt clean, fresh, as if he had recently washed it with soap and water. Suddenly, at once, like a herd of wild, rambunctious animals storming through his head, everything processed in his mind.
As Sora looked around, he recognised his living room. A silent groan made its way out of his mouth. He glimpsed at the glowing and radiant astronomical object outside his window, peaking above the horizon. It extended its vivid light across the deep amber sky. Its dazzling rays invited themselves inside his house, aiding to warm his body.
Muffled sounds echoed. Sora recognised the direction from which they came.
The kitchen, his brain supplied, feeling as if an axe had planted into it brutally. Slowly and reluctantly, Sora sat up, blinking away the tiredness, the blanket pooling on his lap. Streaks of sunlight momentarily blinded the swimmer; he dragged his feet forward, his knees pressing to his chest. Sora let out a quiet yawn, stretching his arms above his head. He blinked, once, twice, thrice, waiting for his body to catch up to his racing mind.
He felt like shit.
The sound of laughter floated through the melancholic air, reaching his ears and providing a soothing medicine to the thrumming pounds. He reached behind him and tugged his hair out of his bun, shaking his head to loosen the strands. Bad fucking idea.
Sora stayed on the floor for a few more minutes, trying to calm down his headache. Not a brilliant idea; the monsters began to creep into his mind, the darkness he tried so hard to tame making its way through and intoxicating his mind in ways he wished otherwise. He much preferred getting drunk.
Sora shifted his gaze to the side, spotting the couch barricading his view of the kitchen. Standing up, he walked over groggily, noticing his soulmates either standing or sitting in the room. He leant against the wall, arms moving to fold over his chest. He watched them interact and thought, How domestic. Iwaizumi and Kindaichi stood at the stove, cooking up a storm for the six athletes. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the air, mingling with the unseeable molecules. Kunimi and Kageyama sat at the wooden table, chatting amongst themselves as Oikawa poured a glass of milk for the youngest — because no one else drank as much milk as Tobio Kageyama did.
