#this is a vent piece

ghost ; suna rintarou

YOUR SMILE IS THE prettiest.

that’s what suna thinks, at least—when he’s staring at your face, adorned with the light glow of the fairy lights above; his hands in a gentle grip around your waist as you sway.

your eyes look the saddest, though. mellow and tired, if he looks hard enough maybe he’ll see the way they’re glossing over with unshed tears, and really, you wonder if he sees or if he can tell at all.

but you breathe, let the cool air dry it out as you try to keep your hands from trembling from where they rest on his shoulders. the song playing doesn’t help your case though, even as you try to block it out.

you keep smiling anyway. if a tear falls as you smile, maybe you can say a speck of dust just got in your eye—it’s easier than telling him you’ve given up.

both of you are too old for guessing games, but you guess with suna, some exceptions had to be made simply because of who he is; reserved and silent. most of all with his feelings.

so you stare back at him instead, a smile on your lips because right now, even with your heart falling slowly in pieces, you’re content. for now, you let yourself forget that in the morning, you’ll be rid of him—or at least you’ll try. after all, suna might be silent and reserved, but he’s still your best friend. you know you’ll hear from him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that—for so long.

but that’s what got you here anyway. it’s funny to think that you’re still unsure if he feels anything for you at all, but those thoughts are a dangerous territory; one that has put you in a loop, never really knowing when to stop.

the same way the heart wants what it wants, the heart gets tired too. broken and beaten, enough to have you struggling for air.

this is just something you have to do.

for now, you memorize his face. etch it into your memory in case maybe one day you’ll forget. you avoid his pretty eyes though, where all the sincerity you want is—hidden just enough—just in case you’ll see how much he wants you.

you’re sure he can tell something’s wrong. he’s got you memorized like that, but he doesn’t say a thing. like always, he waits for you to open up to him when you want to, like he always think you will. like you’ve always done before. so you smile again, this time it’s bittersweet and he can barely tell as you move to lay your head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear, and you exhale slowly.

then pray tomorrow won’t be so hard when he says good morning.