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2025-10-13
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moving on

Summary:

“…McQueen,” Teio said, and that was all it took for her heart to stutter, a mere three syllables to bring back that twist in her chest, just as aching as it had been the day McQueen finally let the sounds of her footsteps fade into the encroaching quiet.
--
Several years after graduation, McQueen sees Teio once more.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

It was a stormy afternoon when Mejiro McQueen saw Tokai Teio once again.

Rain pelted the glass panes of the newly-opened Funny Honey cafe, each droplet leaving a resounding thunk in its wake. Combined with the quiet music playing from the ceiling speaker and the light chatter of customers enjoying their drinks, it created a distinct melody, comforting to those within the room.

Not to McQueen, however. She could hear nothing except for the set of footsteps coming her way, that gait that even now rang familiar, that even now made her heart beat hard against her chest.

(How could it not? They had run after each other in Tracen, steps pounding against turf, faces flushed beneath the sun, muscles burning as they reached and reached and reached. Not once did McQueen have a reason to doubt, not once did she ever think that Teio wouldn’t be near. Whether it was chasing after her, running right beside her, or up ahead waiting for her, she was sure that Teio would always be within her reach, the sound of her footsteps a song that would never end.

Now, faced with Tokai Teio once more, still that same brightness in her eyes, still that same sweetness in her smile — McQueen couldn’t help but wonder how it all went wrong.)

“…McQueen,” Teio said, and that was all it took for her heart to stutter, a mere three syllables to bring back that twist in her chest, just as aching as it had been, the day McQueen finally let the sounds of her footsteps fade into the encroaching quiet.

“Teio,” her voice remained steady, a miracle in its own right, “It’s been a while.”

Teio's ear twitched. If it had been years ago, McQueen would know what it meant. Annoyance, glee, fear: she had once bore witness to these and more, could be given a single snapshot of Tokai Teio and pinpoint exactly how she felt in that moment, what it was that she was thinking.

Not anymore, though. McQueen let the image of that twitch slip away, honey drink in her grip the one thing keeping her moored.

Blue eyes flitted to the cup in her hand, and her smile took on a different tinge, a faint mischief in them reminiscent of the girl who used to sneak a sip of her drink regardless of what it was. “Still the same order?”

“Soft, light, and easy on the honey.” McQueen gave her cup a shake, the rattle of ice cubes filling in the spaces between her thoughts. “Though, I would prefer if they added a bit more sugar.”

Teio hummed, tail swishing once behind her. “You always did like your sweets.”

(The urge to defend her sugar intake poked at her, an instinct once honed during her racing days left to dull in the aftermath. All thanks to a coaxing grin and a steady warmth by her side, leading her to all the sweets stalls around the shopping center whenever they had the chance.

Did Teio ever think of those days? How the sunlight streamed through the ceiling panes, how the crowd created a bustling song all around them? How her hand slipped in hers and never let go, how every single step felt like moving forward to a future just beyond the horizon meant for them and them alone—?

Because McQueen did. On days when a twinge of pain would pinch at her knee. On days when the skies were a particular shade of blue. On days when her phone would remind her of messages unsent and messages unread, would taunt her with pictures from a time long gone.

McQueen hoped Teio didn't. It would be easier that way.)

“Of course, I still do,” McQueen attempted a smile, “That will never change, at least.”

Teio's ear twitched once more; except this time, McQueen didn't need to guess what it meant. She saw firsthand how the brightness in those blue eyes dulled, how the curve of her smile dipped into something between nostalgia and guilt.

Perhaps it was a moment of weakness. Perhaps it was an urge for vulnerability too strong to hold back. Perhaps it was an invitation, a glimpse of what could have been. Whatever it was, it was gone before McQueen could say anything, Teio letting out a short laugh as she said, “Right! I should have expected that.”

Her tone was light and cheery, back to how it was before. How much of it was a facade, McQueen didn't know, grip still tight around her drink, feet still rooted to the ground. Less than a meter away from each other — such a short distance for racers of their caliber — and yet McQueen couldn't fathom taking another step closer, couldn't handle the thought of being that close to Teio once more.

(How could she, when years of phantom steps and promises laid buried between them?

How could she, when the girl who held her hand in the rain, who promised her a miracle, who ran and followed through, was the same one who laid them to rest?

How could she, when it had been McQueen who dug in the first place, McQueen who handed Teio the shovel and watched the dirt pile up with neither a single word of protest, nor a single quiet plea?)

McQueen took a breath. “Teio—”

“McQueen,” Teio interrupted, though not unkindly, voice soft in a way that tugged at a corner of her mind, a distant memory of rain and turf, “I’ve really missed you.”

Whatever words McQueen wanted to say before died right on her lips.

“I’ve wanted to see you for so long,” Teio held her gaze, a near-smile on her lips. “It’s been a few years now, huh? I’d almost given up.”

That distant memory came into focus — smell of petrichor permeating the track, her jersey stuck to her like second skin as pain lanced her knee, her heart beating wildly with each word that fell from Teio’s lips, the heat of her hand burning through the chill that had sunk into her bones — every detail so sharp it cut her lungs with each breath.

“Teio,” said McQueen, strain in her voice obvious even to her own ears. “I’m so sorry.”

(Three words carrying everything that never happened. All she could say. All she should say.

If there were three other words she wanted to say, three other words that carried everything she wished had happened, well—)

“You’re not the only one.” Teio broke her gaze, raising her cup to drink, melancholy in her tone. “I’m sorry, too.”

McQueen watched her, and for a moment she could almost fool herself. That they were in Tracen once more, sharing a drink after training: the color of her drink familiar, the light catching on the edge of the clear plastic straw and the ridges of the lid sealing it together, and—

(Oh.)

—the shine of the ring on her finger.

“I should have reached out to you sooner,” McQueen heard Teio continue, nearly drowned out by the thump of blood against her ears. “I guess we both got too busy.”

“Yes,” McQueen managed to say, managed to keep her ears upright. “Far too busy.” A sound slipped past her lips, a chuckle too bittersweet to be called as such. “Fate can be quite cruel.”

Teio searched her gaze. McQueen wondered what she found in them.

“Well, we saw each other again,” Teio said with a hesitant smile. “So maybe it’s not that cruel anymore.”

McQueen mustered up her best smile. “Perhaps not.”

The bell on top of the cafe door rang as some customers entered. Outside, the rain had slowed, pattering gently against the windows.

Teio checked her watch. “It’s about time for me to go. Errands to run and all.”

“Oh, of course,” McQueen said, “Don’t let me keep you.”

“If you ever want to catch up,” Teio said, “You still have my number, right?”

That ache in her chest twisted. “Of course.”

“Just send me a message.” Teio flashed her a smile. “It was great seeing you again, McQueen. Really.”

With a wave, she jogged out into the rain, footsteps fading once again.

McQueen watched until she was out of sight. She took a sip of her drink, and wondered why it tasted so bittersweet.

Notes:

I am an angst writer before anything else, and although the teimaku in my head are happily married after graduation, I couldn't help but wonder how it would look ... two people who promised each other miracles and running together until the seasons change, growing apart in the years afterwards and meeting once again as strangers

I wanted to really dig deep and figure out the specifics of how they would act this far into the future in this setting and also the Whys, but!! since this is meant to be a quick palate cleanser for me while I work on other writing projects, this was mostly written off of vibes and with minimal editing, so I apologize if they feel very OOC as well as for how abruptly it ends. maybe one day I'll turn this into a longer thing that has a Hopeful Ending tag but alas.

brought to you by: that one tweet a few weeks ago that said all Umamusume ships are technically angst when you think about how they'll all go their separate ways after graduation + me looping moving on by kodaline and about you by the 1975 + the couple of inches of rain my area got over the weekend

thank you for reading!