『 R E Q U E S T S , C L O S E D 』AnimeCharacters x Reader

31. Ghoul! Oikawa Tooru x Reader | Through the Damage and the Petrifying Colors

→ character : Oikawa Tooru | Haikyuu!!

→ original fic

→ 05102017

→ haikyuu!! & tokyo ghoul crossover / tokyo ghoul AU ; wherein there's a flash of color, a gasp, and tears in oikawa's eyes.

[a/n]: i have 1 other request i'm going to work on soon (i promise,) and i wanted to write something so have this drabble!! (i say drabble but it's going to be much longer than what's conventional, i already know it)

xx

There are so many colors- colors that would merit the long stares if suited on a rainbow, on a sunset after a storm, on clashing and furious passion on the pale complexion of a canvas. Saturated, dried, complimented under scrutiny and fluorescent light bulbs.

Not when they erupted from the back of the man who birthed laughter on the expecting flesh of your glossed lips over cold coffee just a few hours earlier (hours threaded by the silken loops of their giggles and thrown looks from others dressed excessively from the winter until the harsh evening came with a resounding snip.) The same man who laughed a little too loudly, who kissed a little too softly, who held fingers a little too timidly, who looked as vehemently crafted as stripes and arches of paintings under the changing hues of soft yellows and whites in the early, innocent mornings.

Now, here, in the fade of daylight, in the sky changing in rapid irregularity that released orangeness in a gentle beauty, nobody was breathing. Nobody was speaking. Though if this was only a nightmare, you'd scream until the wallpaper of this wickedness would peel and fall and you'd see an Oikawa Tooru that wasn't bursting with violets and reds.

It was quiet, trashed and muddy enough to repel even the drunkest, most desperate breed of teenagers with pierced faces and sunken eyes. It was too filthy, too vulgar, too unrefined to ever dream to host Tooru's gorgeousness. He deserved only chiseled quartz and the brilliance of permanent, bouncing sunshine and goblets carved and golden, overflowing with nectar and the curls of tendrils of grape vines upon the steadiness of pillars and pillars. He deserved only the purity of white and the timelessness of gold, and all his desires at the ends of his fingertips, and the chides of the other beings and godly beautiful as he was, sitting on their thrones amidst the waterfalls of galaxies.

And yet, Tooru stood, boots sunk into the mud, with shaking hands.

Oikawa Tooru was not a crier. You'd only see his emotions and his tears leak in broken jars of memories and dried tears, on the late evenings where he'd loathe his fingers over a lost match and curl into himself until he hollowed himself out after shed tears and patches of dampness on the sheets. You recognize the way his shoulders sink, how he turns so you're only shown the porcelain paleness of his tear-streaked cheeks.

"Tooru-"

"Stay away from me."

But you take a step towards him anyways. Two steps. Three. And all Tooru can do is stare at you with his eyes flaring with alarm, but his cheeks are too wet with his expressed misery that his protests are nothing more than another breeze that pushes against you weakly. It's seven steps, and Tooru's still choking in his cries, and the colors still swirl in the vacancy behind him.

With the backdrop of another cauldron of battling colors that slowly, begrudgingly surrender to the crawling force of the darkness, and the teardrops that steal a glimmer of the retreating sunlight and reflect it, you take Tooru by the face and kiss him.

You kiss him until there's nothing to pass to him anymore, and when Tooru's lips part from yours, he croaks another broken sob before he collapses into your embrace.