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...
nothing in the world is mine for free, but my love, mine, all mine
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DECEMBER THIRTY FIRST, TWO THOUSAND AND TWENTY TWO
21:33 at night
HOW DO YOU KNOW IF you haven't fallen out of love? Does it come to you as a realization? Does it come to you as an epiphany? Is it like when the phone rings and suddenly it hits you with such force that your legs give out from beneath you? I think not. Neither did Sora.
For him, it was a slow and steady process—like the slow buildup of snow on a windowpane in winter or the gradual decline of temperature over time. It started in his chest and gradually worked its way up through his brain, until one melancholic night, it hit him all at once.
He was sitting on the steps, watching his soulmates play a game of friendly volleyball. The sun had set, and the sky was filled with stars, but their garden remained illuminated with strings of lights and a campfire burning nearby.
Beautiful, he thought.
"You're cheating, Tooru-san!" blustered Rin, throwing his arms in the air as Oikawa scored another one-touch with his jump serve.
Oikawa smiled haughtily, giving Kunimi a high-five as they grabbed the volleyball that was thrown to them. "Nope. It's called strategy."
"It's cheating!" Rin insisted. He pointed his finger, his tiny frame standing between Kageyama's and Kindaichi's tall ones.
The older two were teaching Rin how to play, showing him the right moves and coaching him on whether to spike or block the ball. It was fun, and it made both of them smile. Even though it wasn't really fair since they were all somewhat professional in the sport, and it left Rin with a major disadvantage (besides his already small stature), they were still enjoying themselves.
Well, for the most part, anyway.
Because having Rin on their team meant they were losing—badly.
"If you don't want me to win," said Oikawa, raising his eyebrows mischievously, "then how about actually scoring? Cause last time I checked, we–" he motioned to himself, Kunimi and Iwaizumi on their side of the court–"have twenty-one points and you have, what is it?"
Kageyama grumbled, "Sixteen."
"Ah! And isn't that a delightful five-point difference?" Oikawa all but purred, clasping his hands and swaying side to side.
"So you know how to do maths, boo-hoo," Rin huffed, crossing his arms.
Sora arched a brow in both amusement and paternal strictness. "Rin," he called, and his son immediately deflated when he heard his father's voice. "Mind your tone when talking to adults."
