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When Nishinoya showed up unannounced at Asahi’s apartment, grin wide and voice booming, “Let’s get matching tattoos!”, it took Asahi a moment to process his request and the bag of supplies in his hand.
He took in the head of dark brown hair on the man outside his door, all gelled up in sharp spikes, save for the small bleached tuft that sat on his forehead. Nishinoya’s eyes held an electric spark as he gazed up at Asahi; despite barely reaching Asahi’s barrel chest, the shorter man’s presence seemed to tower over him.
As Asahi considered the proposal, he nervously undid the messy bun at the base of his neck and immediately put his brown, shoulder-length hair up again--a nervous tick that he’d never really grown out of.
Asahi was sure that stick ‘n’ pokes are completely unsafe and unsanitary and that he was a fool for agreeing to let Nishinoya go at his skin with a sewing needle. But, by that point he’d already gotten used to getting swept away by the storm that is his boyfriend.
Nishinoya had volunteered to go first, much to Asahi’s relief. As they sat together at Asahi’s coffee table, Asahi watched with unease as his boyfriend set up his rig for the first time- a disinfected sewing needle stuck in the side of a pencil eraser with thread wrapped in coils around the length of the needle. Only the tip of the needle was left exposed.
Nishinoya had explained, matter-of-factly, that the thread acted as a well for the ink; he’d said it with the confidence of someone who hadn’t just read it online a couple of hours prior, as if it wasn’t the first time he’d done this.
Even though Nishinoya would be the one to etch them into permanence, the two of them had decided to design each other’s tattoos. (Or, more accurately, Nishinoya put a pen in Asahi’s hand, beaming and giving Asahi the same unwavering look he’d worn the time he’d convinced Asahi to go late-night skinny dipping with him in the fountain in the middle of campus.)
After Nishinoya cleaned his arm to the best of his ability, which just involved hastily rinsing his wrist under the faucet in the bathroom, Asahi used a ballpoint pen to carefully draw his design on his boyfriend’s left inner wrist-- two small, overlapping clouds with a lightning bolt striking beneath them.
He smiled at the little drawing, bringing Nishinoya’s hand up to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his fingertips, feeling warmth pass between their bodies at the contact.
When Nishinoya started pressing the inky needle into his own skin, following the outline Asahi drew, his reckless energy calmed into razor-sharp focus. With his brown eyes narrowed and the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration, he worked with rarely observed calmness as he tattooed himself pinprick by pinprick. Little drops of blood beaded where the needle had pressed a little too deep, but Nishinoya seemed unaware of the pain.
Asahi watched in awe as his boyfriend tattooed himself, confidently and without hesitation. After laying down a few dots of ink, he would wipe the excess ink from his wrist, dip the needle into the ink he’d poured into a jar lid, and repeat the process. Dot after dot in a repetitive cycle that was almost hypnotic, Nishinoya brought Asahi’s design to life on his own skin with unwavering deftness.
After nearly a hundred repetitions of this cycle, the twin clouds and lightning bolt sat black and red against the pale of Nishinoya’s wrist. His surging energy returned as he admired his work with a grin, complimenting Asahi’s design and earning himself a kiss on the cheek from his blushing boyfriend.
Now, Asahi watches as Nishinoya refocuses on the task at hand, setting up his stick ‘n’ poke rig for a second time. They’re sitting at adjacent sides of the coffee table, their legs resting against each other’s.
He loves this meticulous side of Nishinoya as much as he loves the rest of him; he sees it whenever the man is memorizing lines for a role or trying to get into character before a performance.
Asahi’s arm sits on the corner of the table as Nishinoya gets ready to tattoo the design he’s drawn onto his boyfriend’s right inner wrist (and hidden from Asahi’s view), and Asahi can’t help but admire the way his boyfriend is able to channel all of his energy into anything that catches his interest.
And suddenly Nishinoya is pushing the needle into Asahi’s skin and he has to fight back the reflexive urge to pull his arm back. A tear wells up in the corner of his eye, and Nishinoya immediately pauses in favor of reaching up to wipe the tear away and replace it with a kiss to Asahi’s cheek.
“You okay, dude?” Nishinoya asks, voice soothing. Asahi can’t help the bubbling laughter escaping his chest; Nishinoya is the only person he knows who could turn ‘dude’ into an earnest term of endearment.
“Y-yeah, it was just a little surprising,” Asahi says, voice wavering slightly. He’s never been very good at dealing with pain, but the smile Nishinoya gives him in response is almost enough to numb him to it.
Almost.
When Nishinoya brings the needle back to Asahi’s skin, Asahi frantically searches for something to distract himself from the pain. The first thing his brain latches onto is the man in front of him-- his long eyelashes, his forehead crinkling in concentration, his hand gently cradling Asahi’s as he works deftly.
***
There was no sign of this calmness when Azumane Asahi first met Nishinoya Yuu.
They’d been in the same Intro to Philosophy class two years ago, when Asahi was a sophomore, and before they even spoke Asahi had a good idea of the kind of person Nishinoya was.
From the first day of class, Nishinoya always had something to say about how narrow-minded some philosophers seemed to be; for a freshman, he was extremely brazen and loud. He especially despised the concept of determinism and proudly (loudly) declared that everything he accomplished was all his doing, every choice he made was his own, and no stuffy dead guy could make him think otherwise.
Confidence oozed out of his every pore, and Asahi prayed that he’d never have to interact with the man; he wasn’t really a fan of that particular brand of person.
But Asahi never did have the best luck.
They were assigned to the same Philosophy discussion group, and somehow they ended up having to edit each other’s term papers. Which of course meant that they had to interact with each other quite extensively, meeting pretty frequently towards the end of the semester to work on their assignment.
Editing Nishinoya’s writing was difficult; Asahi wanted to suggest minor changes but was worried that Nishinoya would think the edits implied that his writing was bad. Which it most definitely wasn’t. His writing was just as bold as he was, and, regardless of the frequent grammatical mistakes, extremely poignant.
At first, Asahi dreaded their meetings; Nishinoya was too loud, too volatile.
But at some point things changed; they spent more and more time together, without the looming presence and pretense of schoolwork over their heads. Asahi was awful at video games, but every time he lost to Nishinoya, he was rewarded with a clap on the back and a smile like lightning. Asahi found himself regretting ever thinking that he didn’t want the the man’s presence in his life.
Over the course of their meetings together, he’d learned that Nishinoya was a theater major whose sights were set on Broadway. He said it with such certainty that Asahi had no room to doubt him. Asahi was a chemical engineering major, but didn’t really enjoy the field at all.
He was good at it, and his parents urged him to pursue a career that would make him money. And because he didn’t really have a passion for anything anyway, he let them choose his path for him. When he told all of this to Nishinoya, all Nishinoya did was cock his head to the side and ask a simple question.
“What’s the point of doing something if your heart’s not in it?”
***
A particularly deep pinprick of the needle shocks Asahi back to the present. He jumps a little, and Nishinoya rubs soothing circles on Asahi’s palm with the hand he’s using to hold Asahi’s steady.
He forces himself to hold still; Nishinoya isn’t even a quarter of the way done with the tattoo. Not wanting to distract him, Asahi allows his mind to wander again.
He thinks this time about classwork; for once, he’s finished a paper due in his Child Growth and Development class ahead of time. Nishinoya is always getting on him for having to rush things at the last minute, as if he isn’t also guilty of it.
Asahi smiles to himself, a memory suddenly emerging from the pain-induced fog in his mind.
***
“You’re killing yourself, what’re you gaining from this?!” Nishinoya’s voice was loud, angry, and it rang out clear in Asahi’s clearing head. He was fuming, stomping around the room and gesturing angrily as he spoke. “Seriously, how long were you up for? Was passing an orgo exam worth passing out and concussing yourself?”
They were in Nishinoya’s dorm; they’d just turned their Philosophy term papers in the other day, and Asahi had been studying organic chemistry nonstop since. He’d come over to Nishinoya’s to study together, but had barely made it through the door before he collapsed.
He’d done this before, more often than Nishinoya thought-- pulled consecutive all-nighters to prepare for exams, substituting coffee for water and forgoing eating in favor of cramming more information into his head. This time he’d been up for over 62 hours.
“Yeah, actually it was,” he mumbled from his place in Nishinoya’s bed. He was sure that he scored near the upper end of the curve; lost sleep was nothing compared to failed exams. He knew this, but for some reason he didn’t feel proud of his high test scores. “The only thing that matters is my GPA and making my parents proud.” He didn’t believe any of the words coming from his mouth, and he knew that the more he spoke, the angrier Nishinoya got. But he couldn’t stop them from pouring out.
“S’not like I’m good at anything else, anyway.” His voice was quiet, his words tinged with self-loathing.
They were both quiet, tension thick in the air. Nishinoya stopped pacing and turned to look at Asahi. His eyebrows were drawn together, and a flurry of emotion-- confusion, pity, sadness-- played across his features until his face settled on a look of determination.
“Don’t pull that shit with me. You’ve never, ever doubted me, so why can’t you believe in yourself, too? Fuck your parents. And stop using them as an excuse for your own cowardice. Live for yourself, without regrets.” He stepped closer to Asahi, clapping a hand on his shoulder, stern look melting into a grin. “Dude, I know how much you love kids. Your beard may scare them at first but you’re a total teddy bear. Why not give being a teacher a go?”
***
Nishinoya, halfway finished with the tattoo, kisses away another tear from Asahi’s face. It’s done offhandedly, but it still leaves a lingering tingle on his cheek.
This time, the tear isn’t from the pain, but he accepts the gesture regardless. He can’t really believe how lucky he is to be with such an amazing person; it’s hard for him to imagine where he’d be if Nishinoya hadn’t come crashing into his life.
Gently, Nishinoya leaves another kiss at the edge of Asahi’s mouth before turning his attention back to Asahi’s wrist. But Asahi’s mind is stuck on the feeling of his boyfriend’s lips pressed close to his. It stirs up another memory, and his heart beats a little faster in response.
***
The thunder crashing outside set the perfect mood for the horror movie they were watching. They were in Nishinoya’s dorm, curled up together under a blanket as the rain slammed into the side of the building with a vengeance. Asahi had his head buried in Nishinoya’s shoulder, effectively shielding himself from the carnage taking place on the laptop screen.
It was a Friday night, and they had both just finished their last finals of the spring semester; Asahi was officially a junior, Nishinoya a sophomore. There was packing to do, but they both agreed that a relaxing night would be good for both of them.
Relaxing, Asahi quickly learned, meant something completely different to Nishinoya.
Every few minutes, when something especially horrible happened on-screen, Nishinoya would pump a fist in the air and whoop. And every time someone lost a limb, he’d laugh and make some terrible pun that made Asahi’s stomach churn. (“Haha, I bet he thought he had a leg up on the killer, didn’t he!”)
Nishinoya wasn’t wearing his binder; the thick tank top he used to compress his chest sat in a crumpled pile on the floor. He stopped wearing it around Asahi a while ago; he said it made it hard to kick Asahi’s ass at video games-- didn’t allow enough mobility.
Suddenly the power in the room cut out, following a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder. Asahi screamed, flinging himself into Nishinoya’s lap and practically crushing the smaller man beneath him.
Power outages weren’t too uncommon; the freshmen dorms on campus were terrible, and if it wasn’t a power outage, it was a water leakage. Asahi had gotten used to them the year before, when he occupied the same dorm that Nishinoya had spent the past year in.
But Asahi was already in a compromised state because of the movie, and the power cutting off during the climax of the movie did nothing good for him. He sat, shivering in Nishinoya’s lap, as Nishinoya paused the movie in favor of rubbing Asahi’s back in gentle circles.
They sat like that for a few moments, until Asahi managed to collect himself and realize that he was literally sitting on Nishinoya’s lap. Flustered beyond belief because oh my God he was definitely crushing him, Asahi tried scrambling off of the man beneath him while tripping over his apologies. But his efforts were halted by a pair of small but strong arms around his waist. When he looked up, he found himself face-to-face with Nishinoya with barely an inch between their noses.
Their breath intermingled in the space between them, and all at once Asahi’s brain haywired. For some reason his face wouldn’t stop burning, and all he could think about was how the lightning outside brought Nishinoya into sharp focus in front of him, how Nishinoya’s arms were firm around him, how he’d never met someone quite like Nishinoya before in his entire life.
Suddenly words were falling out of his mouth before his mind could catch up to stop them.
“You know you turned my life upside down and made a total mess of everything?” he blurted, sure he was spouting some sort of poetic genius. Asahi realized by Nishinoya’s raised eyebrow that his words came out extremely, extremely wrong.
“I-what I mean is- it’s just-” Asahi struggled to backpedal, to find the words he was grasping for. “Like a-um, like a hurricane?” he finished weakly, gesturing sheepishly at the storm raging outside.
How could he explain to Nishinoya just how much he appreciated him? How grateful he was to him for everything, for turning everything he thought he knew on its head? How looking at him made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest? How-
Asahi’s mind suddenly went blank- Nishinoya had moved impossibly closer to him, so close that if either of them spoke, their lips would brush. As it was, they were both completely silent.
The storm outside ebbed slightly, as if waiting to see what would happen next. Nishinoya made no further move, but he closed his eyes in invitation. He was waiting-asking for Asahi to close the gap.
He didn't need to be asked twice. Asahi took a shuddering breath.
And he leaned in that last hair's width, eyes closed as he willed his breathing to even out. He barely felt the other man’s lips on his own before Nishinoya surged forward, fully pressing their mouths together.
It was amazing how fully Nishinoya’s presence filled all of Asahi’s senses- it was overwhelming, but somehow still immensely comforting. Asahi relaxed into the kiss, but as soon as he sighed out a contented breath, the pressure was gone from his lips.
The kiss ended much too quickly, but warmth of Nishinoya’s lips still lingered as he pulled away from Asahi. They were quiet as they looked into each other’s eyes.
There was so much to say, so many questions that bubbled to the surface of Asahi’s consciousness, but neither of them made a move to fill their shared silence.
The weight of the kiss threatened to send Asahi’s mind racing, and he struggled to find the right questions to ask, the best words to use to explain his feelings. But he wasn’t given much time to panic. Nishinoya huffed an almost-laugh, lifting a hand to cup Asahi’s jaw and run a thumb across his cheekbone.
“Thanks for letting me mess up your life,” he said with a cheeky smile, smiling wider when he saw how red Asahi was. And then Nishinoya asked the only question that mattered. “So! Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend?”
***
“And, done!” Nishinoya sounds pleased with his work.
Asahi blinks a few times, pulling himself out of his daze. He looks down at his wrist, slightly confused by the finished product. It’s beautiful, much more detailed than the design on Nishinoya’s wrist, but Asahi’s having a hard time figuring out what it means. “It’s a… lighthouse?” he asks quizzically.
He looks up, and for once, Nishinoya isn’t a picture of infallible confidence; his eyes are averted, and he’s absently picking at the hem of his t-shirt. He has a shy smile on his face. “Do you… remember the day we started dating?”
When Nishinoya glances at him, Asahi nods and smiles. You don’t know the half of it.
“I don’t know if you remember, but.. You... called me a hurricane, and I figured that, if I’m a reckless storm,” he says slowly, his back straightening and his confidence quickly returning, “you must be the unwavering lighthouse that guides people back to the comfort of home.”
Asahi takes a minute to process the words. They’re beautifully poetic but all he can reply with is a frown. Unwavering? Him? He’s a crybaby incapable of making decisions for himself, and he’s still too timid to even raise his voice in his lectures. He opens his mouth to say just as much, but Nishinoya cuts him off before he can.
“You’re a wimp who thinks too little of himself, and I still don’t know how a guy your size can be so afraid of Chihuahuas,” he says, shrugging. “But when it comes to others, you never doubt their strength, you never make people feel small.” His voice gets softer. “You support me more than even my family does. You always listen to what I have to say. You… believe so strongly in others and I don’t understand how you don’t see all of this in yourself because it’s so obvious to everyone else…!” His voice gradually picks up in volume, and Asahi sees a tear gather and slip from the edge of Nishinoya’s eye.
Asahi can only look at his boyfriend in awe. He should thank him-- for being with him, for believing in him.
He should tell him that he loves him, that he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
But it only occurs to him to do one thing.
He reaches forward to brush Nishinoya’s tear away with his thumb and leans down, kissing him with enough passion to rival a storm.