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...
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JANUARY EIGHTH, TWO THOUSAND AND THIRTEEN
10:11 in the morning
WHEN THE HOURS PASS in a blur, it's easy to forget him and his suffering. Like how the ocean can forget its reflection when it drowns. Or how the tide lulls you to sleep as it moves through your feet. Every day, the sun rises above the horizon and disappears shortly after. A sea of darkness swallows light and turns it to something else. Just as these natural occurrences occur, so does forgetting.
It's what makes us human.
Our brains can only hold so much information. Sora remembered everything.
His soulmates? Not so much.
Like how the wind whispers into your ears when an individual stands alone on the beach, gazing out at the mysterious sea. It has always been there for Sora to fall into— and even though he can't remember falling, he remembers the pain. It's the pain that keeps him alive. Tethering the lines between divinity—monstrosity—and humanity.
"Let's go shopping!" Oikawa cheered. "We've got to get Sora-chan a whole new wardrobe!"
Sora arched his brow, arm wrapped around his youngest soulmate's shoulder. They were walking through the mall, dressed in casual clothes and joyous expressions. "What's wrong with the one I already have?"
"I-" Oikawa swiftly turned on his heel, staring at Sora with enlarged eyes. "Were you not listening last night? It's boring." Last night flitted through their minds— they had agreed to digest the new information and speak about it at a later date. "There's no colour."
"It's minimalist," Sora countered.
"Boring."
Sora chuckled, eyes racking his body. "If it's boring, why are you wearing it?" Oikawa was walking a few steps ahead of him, dressed in his black sweats and a large white shirt.
They had rolled out of bed the moment the sun's rays were too heavy on their eyes— nobody had drawn the blinds last night, and they were left to suffer the consequences.
Sora prepared breakfast for them— a true gentleman, Iwaizumi had mused—and they left the apartment shortly after.
Oikawa huffed. Because it's yours.
"Because it's comfortable."
"Well, don't get it dirty," Sora told him, slipping his spare hand into his pocket. "That shirt cost me ¥25,000."
His soulmates stopped instantly. Only Tobio remained nonchalant about the news. He had grown up with Sora, after all; he knew how much the boy spent on himself. And on him, too. Because who was Sora if not someone who loved to shower his significant others with gifts and affection. "That much? For a shirt?!"
