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gonzaburrow · 1 year

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Flash Floods

(Context, this is canon-divergent and years after they're done with school. Tashiro is a bartender at weddings and Hanzawa is a wedding planner. They unexpectedly ran into each other at an event they're both working. Slowly but surely I am piecing together a plot for all these scenes with hamfisted water metaphors...)

Tashiro's shift ends late; he checks the time and there should be just enough to catch the next train. So he's running from the venue to the station.

If he misses this train it's another hour or two until the next one, he's out in the boonies.

He's running.

He feels free.

He's running and the autumn air is crisp and sharp in his lungs.

He's running.

And now it's raining.

It starts as a few drops: a warning.

He could turn around and head back, find shelter, but he elects to continue.

It's raining harder. He's giving it his all to get to the remote station sooner.

A small pothole trips him up, he stumbles but manages to catch himself. It's all for naught, because a larger pothole was lying in wait.

Tashiro's face first in the dirt that's turning to mud. Rain is pelting his back and taunting him.

He picks himself up and admits defeat. He's walking to the station; the rain is unrelenting and unforgiving.

He makes it to the safety of the enclosed shelter, grateful for the door. It's raining so much and Tashiro's looking through the glass ceiling. He's in a sub-aquatic vehicle, just thin glass separating him from pure and utter destruction.

His phone shrieks and there's an emergency alert- flash floods are imminent and the trains are shut down for the foreseeable future.

Shit.

He's laying down, eyes closed, letting the rhythmic drumming of rain send him into a nap. It's not a great nap, every time he's on the precipice of deep sleep Tashiro's pulled back out by the roar of thunder.

This is what working hard and saying yes to people gets you, he tells himself. Stranded, cold, wet, and alone in a shelter.

Sleep beckons him once more despite the cacophony happening on the other side of glass. Tashiro submits without protest, and he's pretty sure he hits at least a few seconds of deep sleep.

The next clap of thunder is accompanied by lighting and his little shelter shakes, it feels like it could be ripped up from the ground. It jolts Tashiro from sleep, the thunder and lighting continue. The only light is a small overhead light struggling to stay lit and the lightning.

The shelter is illuminated, but a shadow is cast that Tashiro knows wasn't there before. He whips his body around so fast he falls off his bench.

The ground is cold and hard and filthy. Tashiro's looking up with trepidation at the new figure, wondering how long they'd been there. He can't make out their features until lighting strikes once more.

It's Hanzawa. And the way the light shines on his face is a step from nightmarish.

Tashiro doesn't know what he should be feeling. Hanzawa Masato always did have a knack for finding him, and it makes Tashiro wonder if there's been a tracker implanted on his person all along.

He comes to his senses and picks himself up, brushing off the dust; it's a silly gesture because he's still caked with dried mud. He's painfully aware that his socks and shoes are still soaked, his hair is half undone from his naps, and the dirt under his fingernails becomes too apparent.

It's raining and the two men are staring in silence.

Tashiro wills himself to say something- anything, but his body does not acquiesce; he's opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

The rain continues its assault on the world.

Tashiro isn't sure if he's more grateful or nervous that Hanzawa speaks first.

"I was looking for you, Tashiro."

The way his name spills from the other man's mouth steals Tashiro's breath for a second. And then he's all too aware of his breathing pattern, quick little breaths in and out. Tashiro is a rabbit in the woods, and whatever Hanzawa is, is large and unknown and that alone makes him terrifying.

He can only summon breath for one word: "Why?"

Lightning hits again and Hanzawa isn't wearing his usual mask. There's a tightness around his mouth and Tashiro's betting that his jaw is clenched.

Hanzawa sighs before answering. "I was going to offer you a ride; I know you don't live near here. But when I went to find you at the venue you were gone. The other bartenders told me where you catch the train and I got worried with the weather."

"Oh yeah, that makes sense. I wasn't trying to avoid you." But he was. And Tashiro hated how the lie felt in his mouth. He didn't really know why he was avoiding the other man, it was a bit reflexive. "But you really didn't have to come out here, now we're both stuck."

In the dim lighting, he can see Hanzawa stand and take a step closer.

He steps back. Once, twice, and then his knees are hitting the bench behind him and he falls onto it. Hanzawa continues his advance.

Tashiro looks anywhere but in front of him, like if he didn't look at the other man then maybe he wasn't really so close. What was Hanzawa going to do? Tashiro's heart was racing, did he remember how to breathe anymore? What was he supposed to do with his hands, or his legs that Hanzawa's own were bumping into.

The other man raises a hand and as it approaches Tashiro's face he squeezes his eyes closed.

There was a gentle brush of skin on skin; Hanzawa wiping dirt from his cheek with the most tender touch.

"If it's with you, I don't mind being stuck."

No one had ever spoken or touched Tashiro in that way. Like one wrong move would cause him to shatter into a million pieces. He liked it, but the rawness and intimacy of it all scared him. Petrified him.

Hanzawa presses on, taking his time rubbing dirt away from Tashiro's face while speaking. And Tashiro lets him continue his ministrations; it seemed like the easier path at the moment.

"Why do you keep avoiding me? I think this is the most we've spoken since we met again."

Tashiro places his hand over Hanzawa’s; grips it and lowers it and holds it in in between both of his hands. He finally looks up at the other man.

"Uggfhh." He tries to speak but only a jumbled noise comes out. He forces himself to take a deep breath and try again. "Honestly? This is going to sound absolutely awful of me, but I…don't…know? It's just-" He swallows, and scratches his head with their conjoined hands. "I never expected to see you there, after all this time, after how we parted. My flight instincts are still strong I suppose." He shrugs.

He doesn't know when he started, but Tashiro's shaking a little and hopes Hanzawa hasn't noticed, but he's sure he has. His head feels heavy at the admission and he wants to cry.

Something wet rolls down Tashiro's cheek, and he hopes Hanzawa didn't notice. "Ah, guess there's a leak in here somewhere." He tries to play it off.

Hanzawa stops looming and sits next to him, hands still joined. He isn't looking in Tashiro's direction when he replies. "Ah yeah, it seems there is."

The silence is heavy, and they're sitting with fingers threaded together. Where their skin meets is hot and sweaty and Tashiro hopes it's not all him.

It's still raining.

Time has lost all meaning; they could have been trapped for minutes or hours, Tashiro doesn't know and doesn't move to check his phone.

At some point, their thighs touch on the bench, and the warmth seeping into him from the contact sends a shiver through him. Tashiro doesn't move for fear of breaking this peace between them.

His face is wet; silent tears had tumbled down his face but had yet to dry.

The drumming of rain slows.

Tashiro dares to ruin the silence. "It's not worth much anymore, but I'm sorry. I know we can't go back, and I don't know how to go forward now. Everything just feels-" He sucks in a deep quivering breath, begging his words to sound stronger than he feels. "-wrong." he finishes with a whisper.

Hanzawa squeezes Tashiro's hand and nudges his calf with a foot. He still won't look his way, but responds nonetheless. "I was wrong, too. All this wasn't one sided; I'm just as culpable as you. Probably more."

When Hanzawa finally twists his body, one leg on the bench sitting sideways to face Tashiro, it's with the most pained expression Tashiro's ever seen. His tidy hair is a mess, eyes bloodshot beyond belief, and face just as wet as Tashiro's own feels.

"Is it really so wrong to want still?"

Tashiro's broken heart breaks further.

"Wish I knew. God, why did things have to get so heavy? I'm no good at this." Tashiro takes a dirty hand and wipes Hanzawa's face, a trail of dirt left in its wake. "Do you think it's possible to push pause on the heavy stuff, Hanzawa? I don't wanna pretend it never happened, but maybe we branch off and revisit it later?"

Tashiro can't imagine having this conversation with anyone else. There's a dam that keeps all his deep, weird emotions back. He's pretty sure no one else would be able to treat him the same after hearing the woes that slumber in the abyss of his heart. No one but Hanzawa.

Hanzawa stands and pulls Tashiro with him. "There's no harm in trying." He maneuvers them to the door, one hand poised to push it open. "I'm glad you're letting us try again. I'm still struggling with forgiveness, if I'm being honest."

Tashiro stops and anchors Hanzawa in the shelter. Tashiro's face feels tight. "Oh." It's quiet, and the only indication Hanzawa heard is the way his fingers twitch against Tashiro's hand. "I mean, it was so long ago I barely remember what happened." It was the most obvious lie he's ever told. So transparent, like the glass above their heads. "You…don't feel like you need to forgive me. It's okay."

When Tashiro looks up, Hanzawa's expression is equal parts confused and distraught.

"There was never anything to forgive you for, Tashiro." Hanzawa heaves a heavy breath. "I was talking about forgiving myself."

"Oh. Oh."

"Yeah."

The rain is softly pattering, a few drops drum every couple seconds.

Hanzawa pushes the door open, and pulls Tashiro outside with him. "Well, come along Tashiro. I'm parked a few blocks away. We can finish this conversation another time."

It's drizzling; the rain has eased up.

#hanzawa to tashiro #hanzashiro #tashiro gonzaburou #hanzawa masato #sasaki to miyano #this was originally going to be a complete AU but then I realized the weight of their past together makes it so much better #this was a long one #guesstimating the final completed story will be like 20-25k?#their scene in the train shelter was inspired by that one scene from My Summer of You

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moregraceful · 10 months

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You know for a team I have not watched regularly since 2020, random facts about the Dallas Stars sure are lodged in my head like immovable truths of the universe. If I ever find a program that can help me create an interactive timeline in a way that makes sense in my brain I'm creating a timeline of Dallas Stars information from the Seguin trade -> now and it's over for you hoes* (*me specifically, I am the hoes). Like I, who am generally bad at dates and numbers, just have various Stars' players rookie seasons/fresh outta Cedar Park seasons just taking up space in my brain for no reason?? Why. This timeline would also include such important cultural moments in Dallas Stars as Roope Hintz's haircuts and Finnish mafia contracts, information which is also just. in my stupid brain doing jack. This timeline would serve zero purpose and enrich humanity not at all but at least this information would be OUT of my HEAD

Anyway I have not been talking abt it because a) don't want to give details when the overall arc of the plot is still tenuously coming together, b) had to do a bunch of research for some finicky mental-illness-in-WWII-veterans but I haven't been able to make myself go digging on SciHub/LibraryGenesis/Google Scholar to see if anything I learned from Band of Brothers/The Pacific postwar fanfic is grounded in reality. But in my current state as someone who cannot watch videos or TV without getting sick but also can't really leave the house for long periods of time, I finally started digging into the research I need to do for it. I'm writing a Dallas Stars WWII postwar au for Fandom Trumps Hate!

I'm very excited about it, especially as I start digging into the historical pieces I need to make it come together and things start to (slowly, so slowly) fall into place. I haven't written a historical au in uhhhhhhh a while and haven't ever written one that was really built around serious hurt/comfort. obvs do not want to just be shooting from the hip when it comes to mental illness, particularly in veterans, but I wanted to be challenged, and so here I am, digging through Google Scholar annotations lol. (There's also stuff I need to research on Canada in WWII, gay men in the 1940s/during WWII etc etc etc, bc it's been a while since I looked any of that up lmao...historians scare me so I am like I must not make TOO much shit up....)

BUT the reason I was thinking abt the internal timeline my brain carries about the Dallas Stars from the past 5 years despite the fact that I could be using that space for LITERALLY anything else, is bc my bidder requested a bunch of older players (which is great for me to be clear - if there's one thing I'm always gonna do, it's gaze lovingly at pictures of Stephen Johns) but said that if I wanted to add newer players feel free. So I tried to balance out Old Guys with some younger players who I love or am interested in learning more about. Gotta give those old men some youth to keep em humble yk. But I wanted to de-age everyone by about 5-6 years from their ages irl just like...given the timeline of the war, bc so many of the older guys are like well into their 30s rn and I didn't want anyone to be career military. BUT!! I was making my little list of birthdates and ages relative to each other and now I'm like. If I de-age Wyatt Johnston by 6 years. He will be 14. tf is a 14 year old doing hanging out with a bunch of men in their late 20s. This is not LiveJournal. Or like Miro Heiskanen and Jason Robertson who I also wanted to include bc I love them, will be 17. I liked the logistical challenge of having a couple of Finnish guys and American guys in this au that takes place in Canada but also, what is a 17 year old Filipino-American kid doing in Vancouver yk. also like girl help do I really want to dig into anti-miscegenation laws in California and Canada 😭😭 shit was not repealed in California until the late 40s. how far down the rabbit hole do I go with historical accuracy this fic is supposed to be about some gay asses finding relief from the Horrors in community, together

Anyway, all. ALL. of this information about the Stars is going to be in my head for the rest of my life. I am going to forget everything historical as soon as I hit post on AO3 but will be in my 60s knowing that Wyatt Johnston was born in 2003 or that my dad and Roope Hintz share a birthday (kings). Like god forbid I remember my own family or friends' birthdays but I will definitely find use for the information that Miro and Jason's birthdays are four days apart or that Miro and Joe Pavelski and Jamie Benn all have the same birthday. Who is driving the bus here and why is it a Dallas Stars historian with selective memory

#WHO IS DRIVING THE BUS HERE!!!#also debating shelling out for scrivener bc this fkng notion storyplanning template isn't working for the story or my brain #there's just too much research going into this story and this $18 template is NOT cutting it 😭😭#i haven't attempted to use scrivener since literally 2012 but the ux has gotta be better now. it's gotta. right. right??#anyway the fic has to be a minimum 15k but the deeper i get into into research the more i'm like hmm. i think i'll be lucky #if i get out under 25k.#like can i really write longform fic rn no my brain fog is rly bad a lot of the time but i can at least research #anyway. enjoy this look at the state of my brain when i am faced with a writing process that takes more than one (1) hour lol #it's EXTREMELY fussy. it's extremely anxious. and it's extremely real #fresno oilers.txt #also in the interactive timeline: the joel fucking kiviranta goal and greatest hits of the esa lindell/john klingberg romance 😭

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