gravity | r. suna ✓

eighteen

- Wednesday, 9:23am - 

Sunlight on my face wakes me up. It streams through unfamiliar white lace curtains, blinding me as soon as I open my eyes. Sheets and a dark duvet are pulled over my body; someone is behind me, my back against their abdomen, and it takes me a good few seconds to remember that I'm in Suna's apartment and that the body behind me, fitting perfectly around mine, belongs to the messy haired boy I fell in love with.

With a sleepy grunt I roll over to face him. He's still asleep, his face completely relaxed and his mouth slightly open in a cute expression. My eyes travel down his body, running over his chest and picking up on the slight details - his build, his skin tone, and especially his scar.

This is my first time seeing what I traced last night in full light. It's pink, well-healed but not at all faded, and it runs down from the right side of Suna's chest to his mid abdomen, a long thick line caused by who-knows-what.

My fingers trace it softly, wondering what sort of thing could cause it.

He wakes at my touch, his eyes barely open, a soft smile directed towards me on his face. My fingers move to his face, stroking his skin, his lips, tracing the structure of his bones. He leans in and kisses me, whispering a good morning.

"I'm sorry I saw your scar," I whisper, in case it's a sensitive subject.

He sighs, soft as the light in this room. "It was a matter of time. I'm fine with you seeing it, Ayano. You're the only one I've shown it to willingly."

It occurs to me that Suna is ashamed of his scar, perhaps embarrassed by it, or doesn't like to be reminded of its existence. 

Reassured but still curious, I turn my attention to the rest of him.

He smells of cinnamon sugar donuts and feels like a fireplace on a cold night; his body is slim and lean, his abs visible but not protruding from his skin, more sunken into his body than sticking out. His shoulders are wide and his arms are slightly muscular; they wrap around my body like a snug blanket.

I fit into him, and he fits around me. 

Maybe we're soulmates, two puzzle pieces made to fit into each other.

"Do you want me to tell you the story of this scar?" Suna offers, his breath fresh despite a full night of sleep.

"Only if you want to," I reply, not wanting to push him into telling me.

He bites his lip. "I want to."

"Then I'll always listen."

He leans his head back, his eyes closed, his face muscles screwed up. I can tell he's trying to work out how to put the story into words. He thinks in numbers and pictures and diagrams and graphs, Suna does. He has a beautiful brain.

His mouth begins to tell a terrible story.

He tells the story of his family. 

How he had a three-year-old brother two years ago.

How he was attacked while taking his brother for a walk in broad daylight. The kidnapper had attacked Suna from behind, and when the older of the two turned around to fight, the kidnapper tried to stab him but instead slashed a gash into his skin, hence the scar. Suna's attacker then took his little brother and left him to bleed out. 

Suna would have died if not for a stranger spotting him on the street and calling 119.

I can't help but think about how much this explains.

This explains how Suna knew I was having a panic attack just from my pulse, and how he knew the ways he could calm me down.

This explains why it felt like Suna knew what I was going through days after I was attacked on his street.

This explains how Suna knew I wouldn't make it down the street without passing out last night, and how he knew I would feel safer in his apartment, his body around behind mine.

"That's what my parents blame me for," Suna explains, "and honestly, I..." his voice cracks. "I blame myself too."

I sigh and hold him closer, letting him sob into my hair.

- Suna, Wednesday, 11:33am - 

It's late morning now and I've made coffee and breakfast for Ayano, who checks her phone and has tons of missed calls from her mom. She promises me she'll go back home in a few hours to resolve things with her parents, but she doesn't want to leave just yet.

I don't want her to leave, either.

Ayano and I like our coffee the same way: it's a light brown, with plenty of milk and a little bit of sugar to take away the bitter taste. Breakfast is buttermilk pancakes, which I can flip without a spatula, just by using the pan. I notice her admiring me at work; I'm in an apron without a shirt under. She's in an oversized t-shirt - which she borrowed from me - and her volleyball shorts.

My eyes travel around her body, taking in her full beauty. She isn't the media's idea of beautiful, exactly, but in my eyes, she is perfect, gorgeous, the most beautiful and pure soul on this Earth.

She's the only person I've trusted enough to show my scar, and she's the only person I've told about my little brother. 

When the pancakes are finished, we sit down with a plate full of them. "Thank you for the food," Ayano says, dying to tuck into the steaming pile of pancakes in front of her. I nod at her in recognition and we fill our stomachs with pancakes and syrup.

"I'm a good cook, huh?" I tease her, smirking at her before taking another forkful of pancakes.

She rolls her eyes, her mouth still full of food. "O' cause oo ah!" she exclaims, and I take a few seconds to try and understand what she meant.

We finish the meal mostly in silence, with Ayano's face screwed up in happiness. 

Her happiness lights me up inside, and I feel completely at peace for the first time since the attack that stole my brother.

- Ayano, Wednesday, 12:00pm - 

When we've both eaten, we sit in silence. I'm the first to break it, saying, 

"So, I'll talk to the manager of the café and get you a job." 

Suna nods and thanks me, then stops. 

His eyes widen. 

"WE HAD SCHOOL TODAY!" he explains in panic, but I just laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls of his kitchen. 

"It's fine, lets just skip one day of school." I chuckle when my laughter has died down, and he shakes his head at me disapprovingly. 

"You better not turn into a rascal who skips school and smokes behind the gym," he tells me. 

I frown at him, pretending to be mad. "Obviously I won't! I'm a dedicated student," I huff, my heart full of love for the man sitting in front of me.

I find myself extremely grateful for Atsumu, who is the sole reason I met Suna and fell in love with him.

At around 1 o'clock, I say goodbye to Suna with a long kiss, and begin to prepare myself for the discussion with my parents that will undoubtedly ensue.

I'm not sure I'll be able to convince them to let me move out, but Suna is worth trying for.

a/n++

what do yall think ayano's parents' reaction is gonna beeeeee :o

qotd: whos hotter, oikawa or kageyama? there is genuinely no correct answer lol but personally i think oikawa at the moment because im reading deciphered on ao3 and its SO GOOD and oikawa is so attractive omfg anyways go read it! but what do you guys think?