fly away, far away
oishi/tezuka | the sky cracked like glass | 211 words
oishi dreams and the colors of his world bleed into one another, the red-orange of the sunset lighting tezuka’s hair on fire, sharp, bright rays of light reflecting off tezuka’s glasses and hiding his eyes.
“it’s not really that far away,” he says, and his voice echoes, distant and foreign, as if the words aren’t really his. those words are a lie, after all. already he can feel the distance yawning and stretching between them. and then , “tezuka...” because he cannot read his friend’s expression, because tezuka is color and light and all too bright, too far away and too painfully near all at once.
“oishi,” tezuka says, and his words are loud, clear and vivid across the miles between them, the bare inches between their fingers, “i’ve always needed you most.”
he doesn’t know what to say to that, but he brushes his fingers against the back of tezuka’s hand like a promise. i won’t let you down. i will lead them to victory, if they will follow me. i will not break your faith in me.
when he wakes, his cheeks are wet with tears and the early morning sunlight is unforgiving, blinding him as he blinks against the dawn and the now-familiar heaviness of something missing.
oishi dreams and the colors of his world bleed into one another, the red-orange of the sunset lighting tezuka’s hair on fire, sharp, bright rays of light reflecting off tezuka’s glasses and hiding his eyes.
“it’s not really that far away,” he says, and his voice echoes, distant and foreign, as if the words aren’t really his. those words are a lie, after all. already he can feel the distance yawning and stretching between them. and then , “tezuka...” because he cannot read his friend’s expression, because tezuka is color and light and all too bright, too far away and too painfully near all at once.
“oishi,” tezuka says, and his words are loud, clear and vivid across the miles between them, the bare inches between their fingers, “i’ve always needed you most.”
he doesn’t know what to say to that, but he brushes his fingers against the back of tezuka’s hand like a promise. i won’t let you down. i will lead them to victory, if they will follow me. i will not break your faith in me.
when he wakes, his cheeks are wet with tears and the early morning sunlight is unforgiving, blinding him as he blinks against the dawn and the now-familiar heaviness of something missing.