Ship/Character: Serizawa Nao/Serizawa Nao Fandom: Free! Major Tags: None Other Tags: selfcest, drowning imagery Word Count: 526 Remix Permission: sure!
***
Years later, when Makoto asks if he became a backstroke specialist because he, too, was scared of the water, Nao smiles and throws a question back at him.
“Do you think there’s something in the water, Makoto?”
Makoto hums like he’s thinking about it. “You sound like Haru.”
They are sitting at the edge of the pool after the last children’s class one evening, and Nao dips his hand into the water. It is cool to the touch, ripples fading into silence. He scoops up a palmful and watches it slip between his fingers.
“I don’t think it’s alive,” he says, with a quiet laugh. “But I guess… yes, perhaps. You could say I’m scared of the water.”
Makoto, to his credit, does not offer him a platitude, does not say something like I can’t imagine you being scared of anything, Nao-senpai. He leans back and stares at the open sky. “I’m glad I’m not alone.”
“You’re not,” says Nao. He does not add, neither am I. This is a secret no one else needs to know. Below the sunset, below the sparkling dusk-lit surface, there is a graceful shadow that twines around his bare calves.
/
This is where you belong. Natsuya had said it to him before, one of the many times they stood together at the starting blocks, Natsuya dressed to race and Nao in his tracksuit. From Natsuya, always so careless, the declaration had spilled out and dissipated like a sunspot on the pavement, but Nao knows he has never forgot it. It wasn't the first time Nao had heard something like it either.
He opens one eye, then the other. He can see everything clearly. The chlorine does not sting, and he does not know if it is because he is dreaming, or because there is a hand over his bad eye, a warm hand that peels itself away slowly and winds its way to the back of his neck, threads fingers through his hair. Caught in the water’s gentle ebb and flow, all the strands are tangled together, grey on grey.
He tries to float to the surface, but then there are arms wrapping him tenderly, so tenderly, for he has always been good at this. He has always been good at beautiful comfort. The breath on his lips is like a shot of oxygen straight to his lungs.
This is where you belong. His own voice in his ear is softer than he ever imagined.
I can’t stay, says Nao, and closes his eyes again as he reaches to cup that face in his hands.
/
He has always known that face. He has always known that one day, he would have to drown it, he would have to hold it under the water till one of them turns cold and one of them learns to breathe. Such a pretty face, everyone likes to say; such pretty eyes, such a pity about that awful condition. On the corner of his mouth, there are bubbles escaping and a feather-light kiss that will leave no mark. He will carry the pain so no one else has to, not even himself.
FILL: Team Knife Emoji, T
Fandom: Free!
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: selfcest, drowning imagery
Word Count: 526
Remix Permission: sure!
***
Years later, when Makoto asks if he became a backstroke specialist because he, too, was scared of the water, Nao smiles and throws a question back at him.
“Do you think there’s something in the water, Makoto?”
Makoto hums like he’s thinking about it. “You sound like Haru.”
They are sitting at the edge of the pool after the last children’s class one evening, and Nao dips his hand into the water. It is cool to the touch, ripples fading into silence. He scoops up a palmful and watches it slip between his fingers.
“I don’t think it’s alive,” he says, with a quiet laugh. “But I guess… yes, perhaps. You could say I’m scared of the water.”
Makoto, to his credit, does not offer him a platitude, does not say something like I can’t imagine you being scared of anything, Nao-senpai. He leans back and stares at the open sky. “I’m glad I’m not alone.”
“You’re not,” says Nao. He does not add, neither am I. This is a secret no one else needs to know. Below the sunset, below the sparkling dusk-lit surface, there is a graceful shadow that twines around his bare calves.
/
This is where you belong. Natsuya had said it to him before, one of the many times they stood together at the starting blocks, Natsuya dressed to race and Nao in his tracksuit. From Natsuya, always so careless, the declaration had spilled out and dissipated like a sunspot on the pavement, but Nao knows he has never forgot it. It wasn't the first time Nao had heard something like it either.
He opens one eye, then the other. He can see everything clearly. The chlorine does not sting, and he does not know if it is because he is dreaming, or because there is a hand over his bad eye, a warm hand that peels itself away slowly and winds its way to the back of his neck, threads fingers through his hair. Caught in the water’s gentle ebb and flow, all the strands are tangled together, grey on grey.
He tries to float to the surface, but then there are arms wrapping him tenderly, so tenderly, for he has always been good at this. He has always been good at beautiful comfort. The breath on his lips is like a shot of oxygen straight to his lungs.
This is where you belong. His own voice in his ear is softer than he ever imagined.
I can’t stay, says Nao, and closes his eyes again as he reaches to cup that face in his hands.
/
He has always known that face. He has always known that one day, he would have to drown it, he would have to hold it under the water till one of them turns cold and one of them learns to breathe. Such a pretty face, everyone likes to say; such pretty eyes, such a pity about that awful condition. On the corner of his mouth, there are bubbles escaping and a feather-light kiss that will leave no mark. He will carry the pain so no one else has to, not even himself.