Bar Lupin

First and foremost, this story has been in the works for about a month and 3 weeks.

I would say this piece of work reflects what I have been experiencing as of recently, especially with my aromantic experience which had been challenged in about late January and I pondered over that label again.

I am still young– yes, but I am certain that I am aromantic. Though, I do admit that I used to be a little sceptic, since I actually considered myself a secretive hopeless romantic. However, people and especially mindsets change over time, and I believe that what I was truly searching for was a good platonic dynamic– as most, if not all, of the relationships that have tainted my memory in the most best and worst ways possible, and have made the most impact on me today, were the platonic dynamics that I experienced over the course of plenty, plenty years.

Some few notations I have explaining specific paragraphs/sentences:

> At the corner of their eye, Tenma caught sight of a sleeping dog tucked underneath a hut of cardboard in an alleyway. Hairless skin stretched over a bag of bones; the dog might as well have been dead. But with the gentle raise of its chest, it breathed, skin stretching and collapsing in the feverish winter air. Tenma wondered if starving dogs dream when they're tired.

Primarily, I wrote this paragraph as a nuance, and I like adding disconnected nuances and sometimes auguries in my writing. However, it eventually morphed into an allegory in my head which I could weave into Tenma’s character that I have moulded in this fic.

When famished, you don't care about what you eat - just as long as you eat. There's that sense of desperation stirred by deprivation. And in Tenma's situation, and including me as well at one point, considering how much this society pushes the idea that romance is a must-have end goal to life and that everyone experiences it. And so those who don't experience it eventually believe that something is wrong with them (in my case at least. I couldn’t speak for all arospecs). When people grow desperate, they will eat anything that is presented to them, even if it goes against their preferences, even if it is something banal or absolutely pungent.

Tenma crossing by a starving dog in this scene tied well with the context.

> From above, in the office on the fourth floor, Tenma watched as a vague reminder rippled in his head. The taste of green tea turned stale in their throat akin to metal, lingering a little longer than it needed within the pearl-stained roads in their tongue. The warmth their cardigan provided, layered by the heater, began to smother their pores; closing in and out as it produced sweat that itched the back of his neck.

This passage was written as a metaphor for arophobia, more specifically, internal arophobia, which Tenma experiences throughout most of this story as they watch Akaashi and Bokuto basically have to what is to him is a misconception.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36608452

C/W depictions of bleeding, decomposition, and internal arophobia.

Ahh. This was a pure writers dump. I've been in a complete writing slump, to be honest. I whipped this up in less than a few hours while rewatching haikyuu to the top part one for about the third time this summer. Anyways, this was a step towards getting back into the writing zone, so I don't regret writing this fic. Still sloppy, though, and certainly should have been beta read, but I decided to not since it was for the hedonistic purpose of allowing myself to get back into motion so I could kickstart heavier projects.