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Momoya Natsu has always been most comfortable keeping people at a safe distance.
It’s not that he dislikes people, not particularly. He doesn’t mind shallow company every once in awhile, the kind where you only talk about inconsequential things and part ways having enjoyed the time, but not particularly sad to say goodbye. No, a dislike is really not the issue here.
The problem is just that being around people exhausts him to no end.
Interacting with others, Natsu finds, is always a minefield. One wrong word, one wrong reaction, and someone gets hurt or upset or angry or forms a bad opinion. And all that means conflict, and conflict is stressful. Honest opinions. Honest feelings. Any of them can blow up in his face at the slightest misstep, and the closer the relationship, the bigger the explosion.
So he avoids getting close. He avoids the responsibility, the commitment that comes with close bonds. He avoids showing his true thoughts and emotions. They’re often unpleasant, regularly hurtful, and it’s so much less trouble to hide them behind a mask of politeness, amicability and slight mischief. People find him nice, but nothing more. He’s fading in and out of their lives as he pleases, never tied down but never alone.
And it’s okay, really, except that this masquerade drains him out and leaves his battery at zero after a few hours.
But oh, well. It should still be okay, as long as no one tries to push his boundaries. And if they do, he can still be polite and slip away from their grasp.
Right?
—
Natsu first starts questioning his strategy when he realizes it might not work on Yoshinaga Atsumu.
Slipping away from an acquaintance getting too close is one thing. Escaping from someone who’s in both the same class and the same club as him and insists on following him around like a lost puppy dog, however, is another thing entirely.
Natsu doesn’t know what the guy sees in him. He doesn’t know why he always insists on inviting him places, looking out for him, offering help, seeking him out when he’s skipping, reporting to him about club meetings he missed. Yoshinaga should worry about himself first. Natsu can manage fine on his own.
But he also knows Yoshinaga means well, he does all this because he’s a good kid, and so he remains polite and responds to all his offers with a friendly but distant smile.
A normal person would probably give up after some time. But not Yoshinaga. He doesn’t seem to have any concept of personal space.
Natsu works during club meetings, and Yoshinaga takes notes. Natsu tries to skip, and Yoshinaga finds him. Natsu tries to excuse his way out of club hangouts, found family that they are, and Yoshinaga invites him anyway.
One would really think he’d get the hint at some point. But he doesn’t. He just keeps trying.
“Sorry,” Yoshinaga says after interrupting Natsu and Mika for what feels like the millionth time. How exactly he keeps finding them is a mystery, honestly. “I don’t mean to always, you know… to…”
And yet you do, Natsu thinks irritably, but puts on a smile. “I already told you,” he says, “don’t worry about it. It really is my fault for doing this at school.”
“But—”
“It’s fine,” Natsu repeats. Really, what a pain. His smile remains unwavering. “What do you need me for?”
“The—the meaning of the song.” Yoshinaga looks all eager again, his one uncovered eye sparkling the way it always does when it comes to the club. “The others are trying to figure it out, and—and I thought we should get your opinion too.”
Natsu inclines his head. “What for?”
“Well, you’re part of the club too, aren’t you?”
So straightforward. So shiny-eyed and earnest. Natsu has never been good with enthusiastic people. But even he has to admit there’s something nice about this face. Something… almost endearing, really. Maybe that’s another reason why he’s so lenient with Yoshinaga, because you can’t really be mad at these puppy-dog eyes.
“I am,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t have any particular opinions. I’m fine with whatever the others agree on.”
Yoshinaga’s face falls visibly. Natsu struggles to keep up his smile. Making this guy disappointed really does feel a bit like stepping on a puppy’s paw.
“I don’t think you need an interpretation to play well in the first place,” he adds. “At least not one you can put into words.” And besides, he continues in his head, these people should get the rhythm right before they get into the interpretations.
Yoshinaga looks puzzled. “You think so?”
“It’s just my opinion. You don’t have to believe it,” Natsu replies, ducking out through the door. “Anyway, see you.”
Before Yoshinaga can try to stop him, he has slipped away.
—
Some time later the messages start.
Natsu has excused himself from joining the club group chat, but several of his clubmates have his Line ID anyway. Most of them don’t message him much. Sometimes Mizuhara-senpai does, but it’s generally short conversations, all of them club-related.
Yoshinaga, meanwhile, seems determined to make up for the rest of them.
They’re not even invasive messages. They’re generally about the club, telling him what happened at practice, or the newest ideas and decisions, or something about classes and homework. But they’re frequent. Every day, sometimes several times. And it’s honestly getting stressful.
Not that he can say anything. He can’t express such feelings. Be amiable and polite, conceal, don’t feel. He replies to each message dutifully. Generally Yoshinaga is too shy to continue the conversation for long, anyway.
He does use cute stickers, Natsu thinks. And emojis. And his messages are so optimistic it’s almost contagious. Maybe it would be if Yoshinaga didn’t keep on hoping to see the same enthusiasm from him someday.
It’s nice. But it’s definitely too close for comfort. Each person in Natsu’s life has their own space where he’s willing to interact with them. Outside of it he’d rather be left alone. Yoshinaga’s is school. That’s it.
But it’s not like he can tell him that, so he remains friendly and bears the stress in silence.
—
Momoya-kun, I’ve been wondering, where do you even work?
The message makes Natsu freeze up. Too close. Definitely too close. The messages related to club and school, those he could still tolerate. But this is something personal. This, if he gives way to it, will eventually lead to more personal questions. And he doesn’t want that. It gets too close.
Another message pops up, but it doesn’t make it any better. I’m just curious since it keeps you so busy all the time, and I realized I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you.
No. He won’t answer. It may be a simple question. But Yoshinaga’s space is school. He can’t step into the rest of his life. No one can. It’s too much.
So, just once, he leaves him unread. He hates himself for it, but he does. At least for now, until he has figured out what to do about the message.
He’s not surprised to find Yoshinaga approaching him at school the next day, eyeing him with that shy, anxious look. “Um…” he says. “I’m just wondering, but my messages… Did they arrive yesterday?”
Oh, snap. Natsu knew he wouldn’t get away with it. Unless…
“You messaged me?” he replies. “Sorry, I didn’t see. My phone stopped working, I need to get it fixed.”
It sounds like too much of an easy lie, but Yoshinaga buys it. “Really?” he exclaims. “I’m sorry to hear it! If you need anything—”
“Thank you,” Natsu says, smiling. “But don’t worry. I’ll probably have it working again by this evening.”
Now he just needs to figure out what to do about the messages until then.
—
By the evening Natsu still hasn’t figured out what to do. His phone is still off, the messages unread. Maybe he’ll have to lie and claim the fixing will take longer than expected after all.
Instead he goes to play the drums to clear his mind. Here, at least, he is safe. Here he can let loose. Here he can be himself and let out his stress and emotions and doesn’t have to worry about holding back.
And really, today he needs it.
It’s not that he dislikes Yoshinaga, really. He rather likes him. He just needs his space. A lot of space. And he’s afraid of anyone intruding on it. Anyone trying to initiate a closer friendship feels like a red flag to him, a sign to get out and never come back. It’s too much, the pressure, the responsibility.
Can’t he just get away from everything for some time? Withdraw, disappear, until his batteries are recharged and he has any clue what to do?
Finishing his improv session, Natsu takes a deep breath and a gulp of water. His eyes roam over the venue—and freeze.
Standing among the audience is a familiar figure.
Too much. Too close.
Natsu jumps to his feet. He feels like a stranger walked into his room unbidden, like someone read his diary. This is his safe zone, his private space. Nobody he knows can set a foot here unless he invites them himself.
“You,” he says, forgetting to smile, forgetting his politeness. “What are you doing here?”
Yoshinaga blinks at him, clearly startled by his mood. “I was just passing by,” he says. “And then I heard the drumming and got curious… Should I not have come here?”
Too much. Too much.
“You shouldn’t,” says Natsu, backing away. “You shouldn’t follow me around at all! What are you, a lost puppy?” Yoshinaga flinches, but Natsu’s walls have already cracked; there’s no stopping the next words. “Just stop being clingy and leave me alone!”
Yoshinaga backs away. “I didn’t know it was you,” he stammers. “Honest! Your drumming was just really good and—”
“Get out.”
Yoshinaga pales.
“Get out,” Natsu repeats. “And don’t ever try to follow me around again.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then tears well up in Yoshinaga’s eyes, and he turns around and runs out through the door.
Little by little common sense returns to Natsu’s brain.
What has he done?
Is he an idiot?
He has been trying to hold back for so long, and now this?
Isn’t this situation the very thing he has always been trying to avoid?
“Yoshinaga!” he calls, running after him. “Wait!”
His feet carry him outside. He looks right and left. No trace of Yoshinaga.
“Yoshinaga?” he calls again, but there’s no answer.
“I’m sorry,” he says. By now his voice is quiet. The sound is swallowed up by the rush of the passing cars.
He is alone.
—
Yoshinaga doesn’t look at him the entire next day. Natsu tries to catch his gaze several times but is only met with brown eyes fixing on the textbooks or the board or the lunchbox. He doesn’t look angry, just sad. Hurt. Somehow that’s worse.
Natsu wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. An apology, probably. A proper one. He’s not much good with those. It’ll require sincerity. Being open about something he’s always hated talking about.
The day passes. They don’t talk between classes or during lunch break. After school Natsu meets with Mika in the staircase again. His heart and mind aren’t in it. He always keeps hoping for a head of dark hair to show up around the corner, asking him to go to club.
In the end he gives up. “Sorry,” he tells Mika. “I’m not in the mood today. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”
His feet carry him to the club room. Outside the door he stops. Hesitates.
There’s music coming from inside. It has improved a lot since he last heard it. Instinctively Natsu tries to tell who’s playing which parts. He finds he can’t remember.
That’s right, I never really fit in here.
The music stops. “Much better,” Akira-sensei tells the group. “Mizuhara-kun, you’ve improved again.”
“Yay!” That’s Mizuhara-senpai’s voice. “It’s because I’m playing with Yoshiyan. He’s really easy to match with!”
Natsu holds his breath.
“R-Really?” Yoshinaga stutters out. “Um… thank you!”
“It’s because Yoshinaga-kun looks out for others so much,” says Kurusu-senpai. “It makes playing with him really easy!”
Natsu doesn’t wait around. He turns on his heels and flees the place. Where to, he doesn’t know. Just out of this school. Away from everything.
He ends up in a playground, empty at this hour. Closing his eyes, he sits on the swing. Time passes around him. The world stands still.
What’s Yoshinaga thinking, trying to reach out to him? He’s already part of their family. He has enough people around him. There’s no need to include Natsu. They’d both be happier if they left each other alone.
But at the same time he misses him. A lot more than he’d expect.
Does he want him around? Does he not?
The rustle of footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns around.
His eyes meet with a familiar dark one.
Yoshinaga freezes, then turns around on his heel. In a hurry he scrambles back between the trees, towards the road. Natsu winces. Don’t ever try to follow me around again. This is his fault.
“Yoshinaga,” he calls as he runs after him. “Wait.”
He doesn’t answer. He keeps on running.
Natsu takes a deep breath. What he’s about to do frightens even himself.
“Atsumu!”
Yoshinaga stops.
With a few quick strides Natsu is beside him, feeling strangely exposed. He doesn’t like this. He wants to leave.
He stands his ground.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, completely sincerely. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
Yoshinaga lifts his hands, backing away. “No, it’s fine—”
“You just startled me,” Natsu continues. “And I was having a bad day and then I lost my self-control. Sorry you had to take the brunt of that.”
“It’s really okay.”
Natsu meets Yoshinaga’s gaze and finds him smiling. “You know,” he says, “I never understood what you were thinking. But yesterday, for the first time, I felt like you were being honest with me.”
Natsu is speechless. Something unnamed stirs in his chest.
“But I hurt you,” he manages out at last. “I made you cry.”
Yoshinaga shakes his head. “It’s not the end of the world,” he says. “I’m just glad you told me the truth!”
A burden falls of Natsu’s shoulders, a burden that he never knew was there in the first place.
It’s okay if he’s honest, Yoshinaga tells him. It’s okay to express his thoughts and emotions. Even the ones that can hurt.
Should he…?
“Let’s sit down,” he says, smiling again, a little more genuine than before. “I think I owe you an explanation.”
—
Atsumu, he thinks as he sits down in his room that night, feeling calmer than he has in weeks. He picks up his phone. The messages are still unread.
It’s ironic, really. They’ve had this entire conversation, and Yoshinaga—no, Atsumu has agreed to be more careful with Natsu’s personal space. He asked him to tell him whenever he oversteps a boundary and everything, and suddenly Natsu doesn’t feel so stressed over him reaching out anymore. Suddenly he doesn’t mind having him in his life a bit more. Even outside of school.
So he types a response. Atsumu replies almost at once. Natsu keeps the conversation going. He doesn’t know why. He just feels like it.
Maybe it’s because he suddenly feels a lot safer.
Atsumu.
Natsu smiles.
Maybe letting someone a bit closer doesn’t always have to be bad. He just needed to find the right person first.