Haikyuu // Oneshots

ˏˋ 'ˎOsaSuna✦ ˚

summary: when you see your soulmate, the world lights up in color. when osamu sees rintarou for the first time, he's sees an entire world that was previously in black and white.

when rintarou sees osamu, though, nothing happens.

content warning: alcoholism

enjoy <3

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Rintarou sat on a bench that overlooked a frozen lake, scratching marks into his sketchbook. He was trying to recreate the glittering effect of the snow beneath the sun with pencil and paper. Bringing images to life with nothing but lead and shadow was his goal.

It was useless to try. He was surrounded by people far more talented than he ever would be. But if he shot for the moon, he'd end up somewhere.

He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, to avoid streaking his face with graphite. The side of his hand down to his wrist was always iced with silver from drawing. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep his hand from running over the page.

When he glanced back up, the sun had already stooped below the trees, taking away the shimmering effect he'd been trying to draw.

He flipped the notebook to a new page and started shading the shadows that now stretched over the landscape instead. He could finish the first one tomorrow.

"Hey," said a voice, startling Rintarou. A boy stood in the snow beside him, a long line of tracks stretching out behind him. White puffs of air floated from his beaming mouth as he heaved his breaths.

His eyes were a stunning shade of gray, and Rintarou couldn't help but wonder what color they would really be. What it would be like to paint them once he was able to see.

"Hi," said Rintarou, staring up at him.

He leaned on the arm of the bench. His fingers were bitten dark from the cold. His eyes flicked around Rintarou's face as if searching for something, and the longer he looked, the more his grin faded.

"Can I help you?" Rintarou finally asked, nearly nose to nose with the stranger.

"Er..." he said, raking a hand through his silvery hair. He wore a shiny coat that glinted with every movement. There were so many things about him that Rintarou wanted to put into his sketchbook.

"Sorry," he said, straightening. "You look like someone I know."

"Sorry to disappoint," said Rintarou.

"No, you're not a disappointment at all." He cleared his throat. "Mind if I sit?"

"I guess not." This man was strange. But he was also gorgeous. Maybe that's why Rintarou scooted over on the bench to make room for him. His hand itched to reach for his pencil.

The man was bouncing his leg, crunching snow beneath his boot, his eyes wide and sharp as they stared out in front of him. If he noticed Rintarou studying him, he wasn't letting on. "What are you drawing?" He asked finally, his gaze settling on the book in Rintarou's lap.

"Hold on, I just started this one," said Rintarou, fumbling with the edge of the paper to flip to the previous page. "Here."

A loose smile of fascination spread across his face as he took the book and studied it closer. "I've never seen anything like this."

Pride swelled in him, and he had to fight the urge to gloat. If this guy thought he was amazing, he clearly wasn't an artist. But praise was praise. It still fueled the idea that his passion wasn't a waste.

"Thanks," he said, and held out his hands for the sketchbook again. "Mind if I draw you?" He asked.

His eyes lit up. "Go ahead," he said, turning to Rintarou and folding his hands in his lap, back suddenly stiff.