how much of a fic do you usually plan out before starting to write?

how many wips are you working on currently?

“Do,” Tooru corrects ineffectually, not entirely sure whom he's attempting to convince, with his empty, lacklustre words. “I do love you.”

Maybe it is the moon who only loves the ocean so long as it is able to control the tides.

“I did mean it,” Tooru says robotically. “I did love you.”

Ah. Tooru’s starting to get it now.

“What else?” Tooru’s voice feels hollow, far away.

“Don’t tell me this is your way of reciprocating my confession.”

“Is it really a rejection,” Tobio’s eyes lock with Tooru’s eyes, leaving him with no escape from that deep, unfaltering gaze, “if you never really meant it?”

“Bad at rejecting someone? Definitely. You’re way too harsh and—”

“Rejecting you,” Tobio interrupts. Tooru turns to face him once again. The wooden table's worth of space between them feels so short and too long. “Am I really rejecting you?”

“Is this your first time rejecting someone? You’re rather bad at it,” Tooru says with a twisted smile. He turns in his seat, facing away from Tobio to look out the window as well.

“Am I?” Tobio asks.

A prayer, that there was once a time— if even a brief, fleeting amount of time— where they were aligned, in harmony.

“Yes,” Tobio says and Tooru can’t quite tell if he’s looking at Tooru or looking past him. “Anymore.”

“Anymore?” Tooru asks, unsure of how long it took him to find his voice again.

Tobio turns to face Tooru again, silently asking what Tooru means.

“You don’t want me to love you back—anymore. Right?” Tooru asks and it's less of a clarification and more of a plea.

What happened to you? Tooru thinks staring at Tobio staring out the window. When did you change?

Tooru’s heard stories about the moon loving the ocean. An eternal love, a constant love.

But what is the moon to do when the ocean no longer cares for the night sky?

And Tooru struggles to remember then— if he’s always hated the ocean. Hated its vastness, its blueness. Hated its endless cycle of currents and waves, hated all the secrets it harbours, the mysteries that lie beneath it. It’s false transparency, its ever-changing nature.

“Because, I don’t want to,” Tobio repeats, like another wave crashing against Tooru’s frame, leaving him cold and shaken.

“But I said I loved you.”

“I don’t want you to love me either.”

It feels as if he’s standing on the beach, next to the ocean, in the middle of winter. Cold, harsh waves crashing over him repeatedly, leaving no room for even a moment of recovery.

“I don’t want to,” Tobio says frankly, with a quiet sigh.

“You don’t want to?” Tooru echoes. “Go out? With me?” He places a hand on his chest, bewilderment crashing over him. “Why not?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a girl peer up from her laptop to shoot him a disgruntled look. Ugh, go study in a library if you want peace and quiet...

“Love is everything. Makes the world go ‘round. The power of love and all that, y’know?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t know the power of love?”

“No, I won’t go out with you, Oikawa-san,” Tobio says, firm and blunt.

“Why not!?” Tooru all but shouts.

He almost gets lost in the deep blueness of Tobio’s eyes, as they stare Tooru down with unshakable impassiveness.

“What kind of reason is that?” Tobio asks, leaning back in his seat.

“A great one!’ Tooru boasts.

It illuminates him, like a spotlight, but not quite as harsh.

Tooru can see the flecks of dust floating behind him, see every stray piece of hair that sits out of place. See the shadows pass over him as the pedestrians outside the coffee shop walk by, blocking the sun for just a moment.

Tobio looks up this time, his head tilted to the side causing his bangs to fall to the right. He sits next to the window, midday sunlight streaming in. The warm rays bounce off of Tobio’s dark hair, creating a halo of golden brown around his head.