Work Text:
Shouyou had climbed many mountains with Tobio before.
They had hiked various trails, packed lunches, and made competitions out of every little thing. He remembers his favorite trip, a mountain range in South America— the specific name escapes him now, like many names do — with Tobio. Tobio had been visiting Shouyou in Brazil and they took the opportunity to take a multi-day hike. They had been accompanied by a tour guide for the first half to help them get situated, but for the last day and a half they were on their own.
Shouyou remembers how they found a nice spot to camp. They tried making a competition out of who could set up their tent the fastest, but they both failed miserably, having lost some of the equipment necessary to keep them standing. Shouyou remembers the grumbling and bickering that followed as they rolled out their sleeping bags instead. The sun was setting, casting an orange hue over them. Even though they were exhausted, their calves hurting, and their skin sticky with sweat, Shouyou had pulled out a volleyball from his back-bag and no convincing was needed for them to start bumping and passing the ball to each other.
Their matches lasted late into the night, the only light coming from the moon, stars, and the campfire they lit halfway through. When they had finally stopped, the fire was more ash than flame. They had made their ways into their sleeping bags, but something hadn't felt right. Shouyou remembers his heart beating fast, though he wanted to chalk it up to the extensive hiking and volleyball match. Despite how much time they had spent together, they hadn't really talked. About the Schweiden Alders. About Brazil. Shouyou hadn't told Tobio just how much he missed him. How scared he had been of things being different between them. Of them being distant or awkward. Of not falling back easily into their familiar routine.
The more they laid under the stars, however, the less Shouyou had felt like airing out all his worries. Instead, he had itched to get closer. His hands had itched to graze Tobio's and stay so close to him for the rest of the night.
Shouyou hates that can't remember the rest of the night, except that it was warm. It feels warm, and his cheeks and lip began to feel like pins and needles. That's how his memory works more and more these days. So close to the end of the world, the reality is that his memories end with his senses once all the details he could muster dry up.
Shouyou supposes he'll have to make amends with that, and by the time they're reached their destination, he's on to new thoughts and concerns. The biggest one being Tobio's ankle.
"We made it," Shouyou says, helping Tobio sit on an overgrown tree stump. It was not the summit of the mountain, but still high enough to get that view Shouyou loves. The area was large and flat, with enough flora flourishing that it distracts Shouyou from everything else wrong.
"We can go higher," Tobio responds, but Shouyou see's the twitch in his temples, and the sweat running down his neck. Not to mention, his ankle is purple and swollen. It threatens to choke Shouyou up with tears, but he pushes it down.
"I don't want to go higher," Shouyou says, putting down their supplies. He leans down to apply the last of their pain-relieving cream on Tobio's ankle and says, "I want to play volleyball."
Shouyou sighs in relief as he feels Tobio relax under his touch, "We don't have to, though… Your ankle—"
"We're going to die," Tobio interrupts.
Their eyes meet, and Shouyou wants to burst into tears. It's never really easy to come to terms with the end. Not when everything before that is so fun. Not when Shouyou has spent his life sensing everything. Seeing the Little Giant jump at Nationals, framed by a TV behind a glass window. Hearing the pounds and squeaks of sneakers on the court. Feeling the air beneath his arms and legs, and the sting on his hand after a spike. Smelling the Air Salonpas in the gym. Tasting the comfort in the home-cooked meals meant to nourish and build them back up. And that was just during his childhood. Shouyou continued feeling everything after high school, and he still does.
How can the world come to an end when Shouyou isn't sure he's done feeling everything life has to offer. He's not sure he's ready to hear Tobio laugh and argue with him one last time, or to feel a perfect set and never see the shape of the ball as it slams to the floor.
"We're going to die," Shouyou repeats, his hands shaking as they rest on the top of Tobio's shoes.
"The end is here… so, let's play volleyball," Tobio says. Shouyou smiles, and he leans in to kiss Tobio.
Shouyou hopes the end of the world isn't quiet. As he digs for the ball, he ignores the way Tobio winces, and almost trips. Instead, he listens to the wind rustle the leaves. Birds talk about what they'll do when Shouyou, Tobio, and all the others are gone.
Tobio sets the balls. Shouyou slams it down. They cheer and the dirt kicks up around them. The sun is blazing and everything is orange again, like that trip in that one continent, in that one country Shouyou can't think of right now.
And then it's blue because Tobio is looking at him, grinning, despite the tears of pain at the corners of his eyes. The grass dances, springs back after it's been stepped on.
It's all so normal, Shouyou thinks. In the back, he sees their supplies. Rations and empty cans. There was enough for 9 more days. Newspapers and bandages. Tobio didn't let Shouyou wrap his ankle one more time before the match, instead he had asked him to read the story on page 10 again when they went to sleep that night. A tattered jersey and a letter from an old friend. They had found it on a rusty swing set close to home.
Shouyou laughs when the ball hit's his chest. He is distracted and Tobio calls him a dumb-ass before he fusses over him.
Despite the warmth, Shouyou feels cool — the wind, the shade, the leaves, everything around them starts to feel cool.
Shouyou thinks the end is—