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Summary
Under the paring knife, the mango unbecomes itself. Now it is only: flesh, skin, pit. Core, flare, chromosphere. Sticky nectar rivering down: wrist and palm and knuckle. Wakatoshi watches Iwaizumi like he’s seated at another game, another ritual.
Series
- Part 1 of the sun in his mouth
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"Hot coffee in hot weather. Coastal canyons. The taste of mangoes. Your apartment. Smoke curling into the night. Sandcastles. The way nothing but saltwater separates our bodies, here, right now."
i think im going Crazy
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TWO WORDS:
HOLY SHIT. ONE OF THE BEST USHIIWA FANFICS EVER. -
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this makes me YeaRn
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W o w
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It’s Wakatoshi, now, who cuts open Iwaizumi’s lips with a tongue, a softer paring knife.
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Wakatoshi looks around and notes he’s not the only one staring. He tells Iwaizumi this after catching up to him at the water’s edge. Iwaizumi’s responding smile is crooked. But I’m staring only at you.