Nori slides his hands down the front of his suit as he anxiously stares at his reflection in the mirror. “Do I look alright?” he asks, turning toward Kazuya and Nabe. He needs everything to be perfect for his and Kenjirou’s important day.
Nabe steps forward, hands moving to the bowtie around Nori’s neck. He gives it a small tug as he straightens it. “You look absolutely stunning.” Nabe steps back beside Kazuya.
“You think?” Nori’s fingers twitch at his side with the urge to fidget with the bowtie again.
Kazuya smiles softly at him. “Trust me,” he begins, “when Shirasu sees you, he won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”
Nori glances between two of his closest friends and sees equal amounts of love and pride glistening in their eyes and knows they’re telling the truth.
A sudden rush of fondness rises in Kazuya’s chest. It is strangely painful, nudging at the anger that is still nestled there, too, like a too-tight hug, like water welling up from within a whirlpool.
*** this is simple, this is true Character(s): Miyuki Kazuya, Furuya Satoru Word Count:1000 Ratings/Warnings: G, the usual!!! Notes: hi, this is a birthday fic. it is late. however, i am a firm believer in better late than never :’) please excuse the lack of quality?
Satoru is asleep when Kazuya arrives home from the airport. He is curled up awkwardly on the window seat in the living room, sitting with his head propped against the window’s wooden frame.
There is a book lying open on his knee, and his reading glasses have been knocked askew. His breathing is deep, even, punctuated with the occasional soft sigh.
Other than the soft hum of the heating and the intermittent tick of the wall-clock (hands positioned at half-past two; underneath, the digital display reads 17/11/15), it – the breathing – is the only sound in the room. He seems to have fallen asleep without intending to; the lamp on the corner table is still burning, pale gold light casting lopsided ovals on the walls, throwing the room in half-shadow, bringing out the hills and valleys of his face.
A sudden rush of fondness rises in Kazuya’s chest. It is strangely painful, nudging at the anger that is still nestled there, too, like a too-tight hug, like water welling up from within a whirlpool. He sets his laptop bag down and crosses the floor to Satoru’s seat, calls,
“Sacchan,” and shakes Satoru’s shoulder. It is a futile effort. Satoru’s head flops forward, connecting with the window glass with a dull thud.
After another halfhearted attempt at waking him (Satoru is no easier to wake than he used to be in high school) Kazuya picks up the book – it is a Sawamura Eiji biography – and marks Satoru’s place. He slides it into its place on the bookshelf, between a copy of Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair GameandA Comprehensive Guide to Arctic Animals. Then he returns to the window seat and gathers Satoru’s slender, long-limbed form up and hoists him into his arms. For all of his height, Satoru is a featherweight in Kazuya’s arms; he never did quite grow into his stature, and is still as slight as ever, lean muscle to Kazuya’s stronger, more solid build. His head lolls into the crook of Kazuya’s shoulder, the cold tip of his nose pressing into the side of Kazuya’s throat, the ends of his hair prickly against Kazuya’s skin. Kazuya shivers.
Having adjusted his hold and taken a deep breath, Kazuya carries Satoru out of the living room and up the two flights of stairs to their bedroom. He sets Satoru on the bed, pulls the covers up over him, and goes back down to retrieve his bags.
***
When he returns, Satoru is awake, sitting up in bed, shoulders hunched up, blinking, bleary-eyed. The hair on the side of his head that had been resting against the wall is sticking up like bird’s feathers.
Kazuya pauses, briefly, in the doorway. “Now you’re awake,” he says, wryly, “after I went to the trouble.” The vestiges of irritation still lodged in his chest flicker.
“Senpai?” Satoru asks, voice thick with sleep. The sound – hoarse, raspy – sends a lick of electricity down Kazuya’s spine. “Did you just get in? Happy Birthday.” He smiles, an unhurried, genuine smile that lifts the corners of his mouth and crinkles his eyes, “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
“Don’t be,” Kazuya says, against the sudden tightness in his throat. He turns away, busies himself with putting his things away, and continues, in an attempt to prevent what is sure to be an awkward, loaded silence, “so, uh, no birthday present for your loving senpai?”
“On the dresser,” Satoru says, and sure enough, there is a gift-wrapped package sitting on the dresser’s wooden surface. “There’s a cake in the fridge, too. Do you want to cut it now or later?”
“Later,” Kazuya says, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up. Belatedly he adds, “thanks.”
Despite his earlier efforts to prevent silence, a pause greets this statement, fills in the spaces between his words and lengthens, spilling over the edges.
Kazuya accidentally closes a drawer too hard; the resulting crack is like a gunshot, cleaving the air in two. Afterward, the silence falls thicker and faster, as if determined to dam up the discontinuity.
“Senpai,” Satoru says, finally, when Kazuya has concluded he won’t say anything at all. “Are you still upset with me?” His voice is quiet, matter-of-fact, free of any sort of pleading or entreaty.
It is one of the things Kazuya likes about him: Satoru gives him space. –and just like that, the last of the anger dissipates, trickling out through the holes in the dam, leaving behind a tremendous sense of relief.
“No,” Kazuya says, truthfully. He pauses to snag Satoru’s present off the dresser, then comes to sit on the bed. He sinks into the mattress, comes to rest with his head propped up against Satoru’s bony shoulder.
Satoru smells like shampoo and damp, but his shirt is mercifully dry. Kazuya can feel him smile against the top of his head: cheek pressing into Kazuya’s hair.
The wrapping paper has got cheerful little baseballs printed over a pale blue background. It is rather cute, so Kazuya takes his time unwrapping it. He can have Satoru turn it into a cover for a notebook or something. Inside is a plain white cardboard box. When Kazuya lifts the lid, he finds a pair of Rilakkuma-adorned moccasins inside – presumably to replace the indoor slippers he’d worn out earlier in the month. The Rilakkuma heads are felt, and positioned so they cover the whole tops of his feet. The left one is a little bigger than the right, and one of the eye buttons is lopsided.
Kazuya looks from the slippers to Satoru’s face. Satoru looks away, towards the closet, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. Kazuya grins, turns Satoru’s head back to face him, cupping Satoru’s chin with his fingers. He can’t quite make Satoru meet his eyes, though.
“Sacchan – did you make these yourself?”
Satoru mumbles, “I followed a tutorial.” His expression says, I hope you like them.
A beat, and then:
“Don’t be ridiculous, I love them,” Kazuya says, “come here,” and he presses a kiss to Satoru’s jaw.
Kazuya can feel Satoru relax, see the tension seep out of his shoulders.
He angles his head, slides his lips over Satoru’s.
♡♡♡ hi folks! exciting news—leftover sales for the msw battery zine open sun, jul 25 (2021.07.25) @ 3P GMT-5 https://batteryzine.bigcartel.com
+surprise! POs will open for a spring-themed enamel pin , designed by @asticou!
we need 50+ to get them launched, so please spread the word!
products will be sold in smaller bundles for affordability. pencil pouches are VERY limited! for most items, there are about 18-20 pieces available! 3 zines will be available at discount. leftover sales close when we sell out or in ~2 weeks, whichever comes first!
Here’s my piece for @aceofdiamondzine ‘s Glory Days Zine that I did last year! This was one of my first digital pieces and I learned a lot from it. Thank you for having me!
Sawamura Eijun and Miyki Kazuya from Diamond no Ace feat. a story by MoonlitStardust on AO3
Heya! This was my entry for the @misawa-redthreads-zine ! I was super happy to collab with my friend Ren for this, she created an amazing Celtic-mythology-inspired story for me to base my illustrations off of! Thanks to the mods of the zine for also making the project a success!
Hey, guys! I don’t know how to say this, but the first time I drew Miyuki, I was so proud of me and now I’m ashamed of myself . I’m happy with the final piece, but looking at the old version is like a slap in the face lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the video and see you all next week! Love ya!
