tw/cw: blood (due to the disease), unrequited love (Kenma was friend-zoned by his enamoured, hard).
Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病) is a fictional disease where the victim of an unrequited/one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs. It can be cured either if their enamoured reciprocate their feelings of genuine love, or through surgical removal of the plants’ roots (which, sadly, would remove the victim’s capacity for romantic love and may also erase their feelings for and memories of the enamoured); it can be fatal if left untreated. (Wikipedia)
Mysuper-late entry for @kingkatsukix@bakuroo-writings’sFrozen Hearts collab. I was too lazy procrastinating about this (alongside other late collab entries) for months, but something made me think about this disease yesterday so I chose to be violent today /hj made this since late morning. Also tagging @anime-central@hanayanetwork
AN: Chapter 2??? Yes???? ALSO REMINDER THAN LOST WILL BE UPDATED ON FRIDAYS AT 10:30 ish MDT. Taglists are OPEN! Please send an ASK or DM! Reblogs are appreciated :D
You sat in your room in silence, staring at the bare white walls that trapped you in. Like an animal in a cage. The only speck of colour came from your unusually bright bed covers, a gift from… from someone long ago. Clothes were strewn across the beige carpet of your room, the only sign that the room itself was being used. The cleanness of this room was your pride and joy. Something, the only thing, you could tell yourself you did.
You laughed pathetically.
It had been your strong will that had you walking past Kenma when you hesitantly knocked on the front door to the apartment. You had heard huffs of annoyance even before he had opened the door. And it was not hard to imagine the grimace that played on his thin, firm lips. He gave you a look, waiting for you to throw him a glance as you had found yourself doing out of habit. But you didn’t, deigning to stare at the boring painting plastered onto the walls. And the sink full of dirty dishes that you knew would never be cleaned until you decided to do them.
There was a part of you— that broken yet foolish part of you that yearned for at least the tiniest ounce of worry. There was a part of you that had hoped you did not need to deal with the burdensome annoyance that Kenma had often thrown at you. Before, during and after your so-called “relationship”. It was an emotion that was so often seen on his pleasant face, that it had been a shock that had stopped you in your tracks when you had first seen him smile at his phone.
You laughed again. You had been naive. A fool. A fool in love. But a fool nonetheless.
“L/N.” you closed your eyes, palm coming up on your face as you shield yourself from the dull lights of the room. And the lean man that stood outside your door.
“What.” you hoarsely spoke, leaning back on your elbows, reaching over your shoulder to grab a water bottle.
“May I come in?”.
You almost laughed at the stiff words. It must be weird to show so much distance to your former girlfriend and current roommate.
“Whatever,” you snorted, throwing your legs over the bed, tilting your head back as you chugged half of your water.
The door slowly opened, curious and hesitant eyes found your own. His honey eyes were dull, a glint of suppressed annoyance lingering in his gaze as he took in your defensive gaze. He barely took a step into the room before stopping in his tracks, awkwardness painted all over his body. Big, black Razer Sony headphones hung over his neck, his hands tucked into the deep pockets of his gray sweatpants. His shirt was one size too big, something that he had found more comfortable, especially when streaming.
“A shame” you had once teased, as you looked at his choice of outfit for stream. He had merely looked at you with a gaze oozing irritation.
“What do you want?”
The words came out sharper than you had meant, an apology lingering like a sour grape on the tip of your tongue.
Any hesitance was short-lived at your icy words, his own eyes becoming as cool as ice.
“I have a stream at five,” he gave you an obvious look-over, eyes pausing at the bruises on your exposed legs, “At least try to look nice.”
You snorted, flipping him off.
“It was a one-time thing, Kozume.” you retorted.
“No.” his jaw clenched at your pure stone-cold glare. ice that raged in your eyes. “We agreed that we would continue streams till the end of our lease.”
“I have no interest in faking affection just for you to have a good image,” you snarled as Kenma rolled his eyes. The lithe muscles in his biceps flexed as he ran a hand through his messy hair.
“Of course you don’t care about a good image.”
He motioned to your unruly hair. To the dark circles that seemed tattooed into your skin. To the dullness that now echoed in your skin.
It was a low blow. And he knew it. And yet… as you stared at his unwavering eyes. You knew he didn’t give one damn.
You snorted, your lips trembling as you waved your hand.
“I’ll do it, just stop talking.”
“You’re a nuisance annoying.” he seethed, tugging on his hair as if you were driving him insane.
“I just said that I’ll do it. What else do you want.” you snapped. The unsaid words lingered in your head. On the very tip of your throat.
I was in the hospital. Do you not even care?
He rolled his eyes again.
“Stop acting like you’re doing me a favour,” he looked down at you. You flinched at the pure, unfiltered disdain that filled his features. At the eyes burning like the flames of the eternally burning sun. At the lips that trembled in rage. At the fingers that tightly clutched his black shirt.
“And I’m not?” you spitefully fought back. It was not a wise choice, you knew that. It was rare—so rare that rage ever filled Kenma’s features. If anything he had always been the more calm, peaceful of the two of you, always deciding to deal with confrontations in a pacifist approach.
It would be better if you shut your mouth. Be the submissive person you knew he wanted you to be. But it was the strike of your pride that edged you on.
“If you would be honest and just tell your viewers we broke up, then it wouldn’t be such a hassle.”
It hurt more than it annoyed you. Pretending that you and Kenma were still in a relationship. Still in love. It was ironic, you had thought, when he gave you more attention than he did when you were in a genuine relationship. From the small pecks, he gave on your forehead. To the small smiles, he faked when he looked at you during the stream. His affection seemed like an on and off switch. The love you had received on stream immediately descended to scorn and mockery as he merely nodded for you to leave the room.
You watched Kenma carefully, waiting for the blow that was sure to come.
“You’re freeloading off of me,” he scoffed, “Can you even pay for your breakfast?”
You stayed quiet at the venom that spitted from his sharp tongue.
“I can,” you quietly said, refusing to let the anger consume your words.
“With what job,” he mocked, “The one that pays 700 yen an hour?”
A furious blush ran down your neck. You wondered how many low blows it would take for you to break down completely.
“It’s still a job,” you scowled.
It was hard to say anything back to that. He wasn’t fully wrong. It was a very low-paying job, a minimum wage job that seemed to have more cons than pros. But, it was all you could do. With your half-finished university degrees. It would be a shameful burden, among the many others, that you would bear.
“Sure.” his eyes seem to always be rolling at this point. He backed up, hands reaching behind him to touch the handle of the door. He gave you one more look.
“You were taking a break from social media for a week, that’s why you haven’t shown up on my streams.” And with that, he slammed the door, before shuffling back to his room.
You scoffed.
“Sure,” you muttered to the closed door.
A low dull rhythm echoed in your head, as you tucked in your legs, resting your cheek on your knee. Maybe one day, the universe wouldn’t bet against you.
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You woke up with a pain in your neck and a broken heart. Sleep, although something you desired in the back of your head, was not your greatest friend. On the best days, you found yourself in a fruitless sleep, filled with a void of darkness and silence. On the worst days, harrowing and blurry images raced through your head. Unfamiliar actions and words always made you wake up with sweat dripping down your neck. The nightmares served as a reminder of the heaviest of burdens on your shoulders. Of the shame that brought with every breath. You stared blankly at the walls, contemplating your next move.
Groggily, you arose and walked to the kitchen. Scrummaging for any snacks. There was nothing, except for the powder milkshakes Kenma always seemed to have a stock of. The clicking clock seemed to mock you with every move. The small hand stayed still at 12 and the long hand trembled as it switched between 3 and 4. The clock, from what you observed, had been broken since Kenma had brought it on. And yet he refused to replace it.
You snorted as you closed the door, daring to peek at the sink. You sighed as you spotted the messy dishes, a pile continuously growing. That pile indeed would never disappear without you doing it. For a man who you were seemingly freeloading of, he seems inadequate to perform even the most basic of housework. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you groaned. You hadn’t eaten since the previous morning and you didn’t get a chance to eat after your “conversation” with Kenma. You turned on the tap, popping open the bottle of dish soap. You scrubbed the dishes, rising and washing all the dishes in a mere ten minutes. You hated doing the dishes. It felt unclean. Disgusting. You could almost feel the grime under your fingernails when you had finished. And no soap seemed to get rid of the feeling of uncleanness under your nails. On your fingers. You shivered in disgust. You scrubbed your fingers under hot water, muttering small curses under your breath.
“What are you doing?” You stepped back, dropping the bar of soap you were using.
“Being a freeloader,” you snarkily responded, as you went back to clean your hands once more. You stared at your fingers.
“Stop wasting water.” he rolled his eyes, as he opened an oak wood cupboard, taking out a cup.
“Is that why you never wash the dishes?” you snorted as you closed the tap, wiping your hands on your sweatpants. Your only response was an exasperated look. A pregnant silence settled in the kitchen. The only sound coming from the quiet trickling of the water dispenser. You shuffled your feet. There was no reason for you to be in the room. To stay. He never asked you to. But he hadn’t asked you to leave.
Yet.
Your eyes trailed from the floor to the small crack of skin exposed as he downed the cup of water at once. You watched a small droplet of water dribble from the corner of his mouth. At the man bun that was coming apart, strands of black and blonde curling slightly at the end.
“Are you just going to stare?” he placed the cup in the sink before walking past you, back into his room.
“Creep.” you heard him huff before the sharp sound of a closed-door echoed in your ears. It was a slap in your face. Embarrassment pooled in your stomach as you quickly went to the sink, rinsing the cup before walking back to your room. You quietly closed the door, jumping on the bed. The quiet creaks of the mattress hid your sniffles.
Hiding the quiet, invisible call for help.
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Words couldn’t describe the pain you were in right now. Although many of the bruises on your leg were healed, it didn’t stop the random slaps of pain that shocked through your legs. Standing for almost 7 hours didn’t help the matter. But there was not much room to complain between the fake smiles you were forced to plaster onto your face. It was the most you had smiled in years, your cheeks stretching painfully as you waved goodbye to a customer. Your smile almost immediately dropped as the last of the rush hour customers had passed, ordering their coffees quickly.
You didn’t dislike the job although you were sure there were better ones out there. But it wasn’t the worst. The place itself was pleasurable to the eyes. Soft pastel colors bloomed in the small, modest coffee shop. Light floral pink walls were illuminated by circular bulbs of pale white light. Coral green swirls of colour painted intricate designs on the walls, small dots added under the small designs, drawing a dotted line all across the wall. Pale pink stools were stuffed under small circular tables. Pale green stems of the mauve lily stood out amongst the mostly pink furniture. The café was almost empty except for a few elderly people who comfortably leaned back in some of the chairs, laughing amongst themselves as they sipped their coffee from plastic, pink cups. Soft, lyricless music played in the café, drowning the small place in a peaceful sort of quiet. It was the sort of ambience you wished you could have back at the apartment. You almost found yourself humming along with the music. Almost.
“The barista might have forgotten your name, but I sure haven’t.”
You groaned at the cheesy words that ruined the quiet little happiness that had been unfurling in your chest. A blooming flower stopped in its tracks.
“I am the barista,” you muttered, as you walked away from the register. You brought your hands to the loosely tied apron, quickly taking both ends and pulling it tighter. You didn’t look at the man, who merely gave you a small pout as you backed away from him. You couldn’t tell which was more painful. Kai’s corny, stupid jokes. Or the standing you had to deal with for a mere 700 yen.
“But it was good right,” you turned around, throwing him a glare before rolling your eyes.
“No.”
“Y/N,” he whined cutely, the pout growing on his plump, pink lips. You only rolled your eyes again.
“Go back to work Kai,” you muttered as you ran a finger down the clean slabs of pale pink granite.
He sighed, running a toned, sun-kissed arm through his strikingly pale blonde hair. The contrast between his caramel skin and his naturally light hair always made you stop in your tracks. He didn’t have the worst of faces, you concluded, as you turned around sticking your tongue out at him. The smirk that grew on his face, made your cheeks bloom with embarrassment, the thumping of your chest becoming slightly erratic. His bronze eyes crinkled around the corners as his smirk grew into a genuine smile.
“It’s only a matter of time,” he teased, giving you a wink that would have made any other girl swoon. You raised your eyebrows, gaze narrowing as you gave him a once over.
Dissatisfaction pooled in your eyes as you gazed at his face.
“You sure about that one?” your gaze only narrowed more at his confident smirk. He thumped his broad chest, hand resting on his heart as he smirked at you.
“For sure.” he grinned, “Thousand yen”
Your eyes gazed at the small, leafy bill that sat tauntingly on the counter. You bit your lips.
The easiest thousand yen of your life. You grinned, hand reaching out, as Kai quickly snatched the note back, stuffing it in his pockets.
“You, sir, have got yourself a deal.”
He gave you a toothy grin as he grabbed your hand.
For a man who spent his workdays behind a counter making coffees, his hands were surprisingly rough and calloused.
“You’ll be asking me out before this month is over,” he added, daring you to take back the deal you had just made.
“Don’t get your hopes up, buddy.” you rolled your eyes, “I’m taken.”
It was a sour lie to say, but it had to be done.
He merely laughed, eyes sparkling a sly grin overtaking the toothy one he had on before. Glancing at the calendar, Kai threw you another grin.
“We’ll see about that in thirty days.”
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Exhaustion crept on you like a cat on its prey. Today, like most Mondays, was a rush hour. Though you found the evenings much more tiresome than the morning. In the morning, frantic office workers barged in, quickly ordering their coffee and leaving. Afternoons were much quieter, the rare elderly person walking in with a grin and a roll of the most recent newspaper. Evenings, however, made you want to pull your hair out. Especially as tides of high school girls, finally leaving their dreaded classrooms, rushed in. It took hours to even get their orders. Most of the time was spent with flirtatious conversations with Kai, who seemed pleased at the compliments that fluttered his way. The girls with more bravado, bracingly asked for his hand in marriage, no sight of humor glistening in their eyes.
You sighed, muttering under your breath, as you trudged to the small room in the back. Pulling out your phone, you always swore at the bombardments of messages and notifications that drowned your notification bar. You sat down, slumping down on the dark couch as you swiped through.
Emails of probable work applications were immediately swiped off. There was no point in looking for a job when you would immediately be denied. Notifications from your other apps were also immediately swept away. It had been months since you opened Instagram or Snapchat. Not like there were any important conversations on there, you reasoned, as you scrolled further down the notifications. Your eyes widened in pleasant surprise at the few messages from Akaashi, glad that you had remembered to name his contact. But before you could see what Akaashi had sent you, your screen flashed. Your ringtone echoed in the empty room. You almost dropped your phone as your eyes caught the name.
Kenma Kozume.
You scrunch your eyes in confusion.
Tentatively you accepted his call, putting it on speaker.
“He–”
“Where are you?” There was a sort of franticness in his voice as he spoke. As if he was worried about you.
Knowing Kenma that probably wasn’t the case.
“At work?”
He huffed scornfully.
His voice was coated in a thick layer of venom as he spoke.
“Can you not do anything right? I legit only asked, for one thing, L/N.” he snarled, his voice quiet as if he didn’t want anyone to hear.
“What?”
You were confused. You had made him his daily meal, with the type of rice he liked. You even added the meat that he adored. Maybe it was the meat, you thought in apprehension.
Oh god, was it half-cooked?’
I knew I shouldn’t have rushed it this morning.
“It’s almost five and you’re still at work?”
You glanced at your phone. A glaring 4:30 scoffed back at you.
“So?”
“You’re supposed to be on my stream at five.”
Oh.
“So it wasn’t the meat then,” you muttered quietly.
“It only takes me ten minutes, Kozume.” you rubbed your temples, “Calm down.”
“And it’ll take you an hour to get ready,” he snarky replied. You could hear the bitterness in his voice, sending shivers down your spine.
“No it won’t, stop being dramatic.” you sighed. Throwing your head back on the couch, you groaned.
“Something wrong, hot stuff?” you paused, jerking your phone behind you as you jerked up. You sighed, meeting Kai’s curious eyes.
How much had he heard?
“Nothing, but I might have to leave right now,” you explained to him, as you took the phone off the speaker. “My boyfriend needs me right now.” Something dark lingered in his eyes before it was gone in a heartbeat.
“No worries, I can close the café L/N.” he gave a small smile before walking back to his wooing harem of girls. You mouthed him thanks, letting slight appreciation gleam in your eyes as you put the phone back in your ear.
“Is that what you do in work,” he scoffed, “Seduce people. Is that why you go there, to sleep with them like a—”
“Shut up.” you icily said. “I’ll be there in a few.”
You hung the phone Kenma could continue his ill rant.
Your heart pounded. At the apprehension of being caught. You didn’t know why you felt this way. Didn’t know why this guilt lingered as you walked away from Kai. At the gaze, Kai kept on the hoard of girls as you walked out the door. It was a reminder to him, you supposed, that you were indeed a taken woman.
And a small part of you wished you didn’t have to lie like that.
WC:3k masterlist prologue–>I –> II AN: Oh god this took so long :’D But I hope you enjoy XD. Taglists are OPEN! Please send an ASK or DM! Reblogs are appreciated :D
It was an odd feeling. The feeling in which you were feeling so much, it felt like you weren’t feeling at all. Your eyes were glazed as you stared aimlessly around the room. Two days stuck in a room filled with beeping monitors and unorganized wires were enough to make even the calmest of people go mad. Your eyes had become to the oddly tinted light that hung over your head from the ceiling, a light shade of yellow flashing of the clean white of the monitors. It wasn’t an interesting room, with simple walls with pink and yellow swirls trailing in a simple line. The plastic rose-tinted curtain flustered as people walked across the hallway, busy and working. You felt… You didn’t know what you felt. If you felt anything at all. The only feeling that confirmed your pathetic existence was the soft beating of your heart; the sound echoing loudly amidst the chaos outside.
A soft quiet ring made your heart jump, almost missing a beat. Your phone rang its usual tone, a signal that often had your hopes riding up. You stretch, reaching awkwardly to grab your phone, the buzzing becomes unbearably annoying in your pulsing head. Your fingers swiped, quickly tapping your password in as you settled back against the soft, white pillow. Several notifications caught your eye, a few from personal messages, several from some emails and a few from Twitch notifications. Dark bolded letters threw themselves at your face.
Kodzuken is now streaming.
You hesitated to click it, quickly deciding to check later, if only to save the heartache that would ignite. Instead, you scrolled through your contacts, a quiet battle echoing in your head.
It had been two days since you had been admitted and the doctor had not asked for you to say. A sure sign that today would indeed be the day you would be allowed to leave the hospital. Flutters of letters melted into a thin layer of black text as you furiously scrolled through your phone. Your fingers stopped, hovering over Kenma’s contact. Something like anguish boiled in your stomach as you decided against the selfish, useless act. Kenma wouldn’t pick up anyway. You knew that from the weeks upon weeks of naive calls and voicemails.
Your heart pounded, a familiar pain arising in your head at the thought of messaging Kenma. At the thought of even asking for help. It hurt. It hurt much more than you would like to admit. Your eyes fluttered shut, painfully gripping your phone.
Although that wasn’t much of a help. Closing your eyes, submitting yourself to the darkness that continued to swarm in your head, only made your heart hurt more. Darkness, although your old friend in your few moments of extreme darkness, was not a being you opened your arms to.
“Ms.L/N?”
Panicked, you opened your eyes, your back awkwardly straightening as small stars appeared in your sight.
“Your vitals are…okay.” Blue orbs attached to your skin, tracing the too-thin arm that clutched a phone. To the too-thin face gazing with an inert gaze.
“I suppose that’s good,” you muttered, eyes flickering from the intense gaze to the nurse that watched you with an odd emotion morphing on her face.
“Your blood sugar is just fine, but it’s on the lower side of average,” she glanced at the clipboard in her arms, tucking a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear. “You’ll have to come back later to do another checkup to see if you need to be put on any medications.”
You nodded, slowly.
“And although you have passed the majority of your physical assessments, you should come in for some mental assessments as well.” Doctor Kioka bit her lip staring at you, eyes swarming with a dull emotion.
“Dr.Kioka?” the nurse suddenly spoke up, a flustered expression overlapped the odd emotion that had been placed on her face.
“Yes?”
“We haven’t…” she stuttered over her words as if none could come to mind. You stared at her mindlessly.
“We need to ask a few questions, for the records,” she motioned behind her. You peered at the seemingly abandoned hallway.
“Yes, of course.” Dr.Kioka cleared her throat, looking back at you. She nodded to the nurse. “5 minutes.”
The nurse merely gave a solemn nod, looking at the ground as she passed by, closing the curtains swiftly.
“Hello there,” there was a youthful glow in the nurse’s eye. The sort of glow of a healthy, happy woman. Her doe-like eyes were a deep, rich brown. The colour of a well-fertilized soil enriched with nutrients and love. Pure-black curtains of hair were wrapped into a small bun on the top of her head, small strands of flyaway hair framing her otherwise chubby face. Her plump lips were tinted a light pink, upturning at the corners as she gave you a small smile, sitting on a white chair to the right of you.
She was beautiful.
And happy.
A pure, stark contrast to your imperturbable features. You hated the feeling in your stomach. That rotting feeling of envy that burst like a volcano in your stomach.
“My name’s Tenshi.” her eyes flickered all over your face, seemingly waiting for a response.
You were forced to swallow the venomous, coated words that threatened to spill from your tongue.
“Hi.”
“I’m going to ask you a few questions, okay? You don’t have to answer, just do what makes you comfortable.”
It took everything in your power to grip the leash on your tongue. It felt wrong. This feeling of envy. Of hatred. She was merely doing her job.
You stared into her eyes.
She flinched at whatever she saw there. Maybe it was the leashed envy. Or maybe the growing dissatisfaction.
But she still kept the smile, albeit a little duller.
“Let me know if you want to stop,” she said calmly, raising a clipboard in her hand, resting it on her leg. She reached into her pocket, quickly grabbing a pen as she leaned back in the chair.
“How are you feeling?” her inquisitive eyes stared at you, pen in hand.
“Good.”
You felt like hell. Pure utter hell. It was a common misconception, you thought. Hell was not the fury of fire, the continuous echoing of screams. Hell was the continuous murmurs in your head. The screaming that happened in your body. It was a pure silence that still seemed to settle. A silence that only made you want to scream more.
She scribbled down your response, neither adding to your response nor asking for you to expand.
“Are you aware of why you’re here?”
Her eyes flickered from the paper to your face and quickly back to the paper, noting down whatever she had seen on your face.
“Yes.”
Of course, you knew why you were here. You were still deciding if it was a blessing or a curse.
“Why are you here?”
Because you were a fool in love, blind by the false facade of hearts of intimacy.
“I got hurt.”
Your face burned. In shame. In embarrassment.
She threw you a sympathetic smile.
“We’re almost done with just a few more questions.”
You nodded.
“Sometimes people feel that life is not worth living. Can you tell me how you feel about your own life?”
You flinched. It was the first time anyone at the hospital had even brushed the subject. All your other nurses had merely thrown you pitiful glances. The doctor that oversaw you had been sly enough to avoid talking about the real reason you were here.
You shrugged.
“I dunno.”
The nurse nodded, scribbling onto her paper once more.
“Do you find yourself wishing for a permanent escape from life?”
You only gripped at the edges of the bed. Your chest heaved as you forced yourself to breathe.
Breathe.
In and out.
In.
Out.
But it was so hard.
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
You had stalled reliving that night. It was something that you couldn’t do. Not if you wanted to keep that one small piece in your broken heart alive. To make sure you did not throw away the second chance of life you had gotten but not asked for.
You had tried to throw that memory in the ever-growing pile of hurt and sorrow you had in the back of your head.
You were a coward. A woeful, wretched one at that.
“Ms.Y/N?”
“No response.”
Your heart contracted, your muscles tightening around your chest as you took in a shaky breath. Your breathing was erratic as you held back the tears that threatened to flood.
“That’s okay,” she softly said, leaning towards you, resting a gloved hand on your arm. You jerked your hand back at the sympathetic touch.
“I don’t need your pity.” you snarled, ignoring the churning guilt that settled in your stomach as her doe eyes widened. Her smile flickered.
“Okay,” she averted her eyes, deigning to stare at the paper.
“I have one more question if that’s okay with you,” she watched as you hesitantly nodded.
“Do you think or feel this way presently?”
“This way?”
“Whatever you felt or thought that led to this.” she motioned to the hospital room. To the bruises scattered over your skin.
“No.”
Lie.
And she must have seen it too. The emotion that had begun to swarm in your eyes. The blatant lie that you internally hoped she wouldn’t question.
You let out a sigh as she nodded, scribbling furiously before giving you a quick smile. She stood up, tapping the clipboard with a pen.
“Thank you for your time, Ms.Y/N.” she bowed slightly before leaving the room.
You watched as she paused, quickly turning around.
“Dr.Kioka will be with you in a few moments.”
You didn’t even nod, instead of going back to your phone, eyes intently watching the black screen as you waited for her to leave the room.
You waited to hear the soft noise of the curtains crinkling and the rhythmic sound of footsteps before you looked up from your phone.
The boiling pot of envy and hatred never ceased to bubble and brew in your stomach.
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Dr.Kioka had popped in for a few minutes only to tell you the good news that you were now allowed to leave.
You merely nodded, eyes glancing to your phone, still without any notifications. You had requested that you stayed until night if only to give you more time to figure out what you would do.
You could call a taxi, despite the medium risk that would provide. Though it did seem more reliable than the one person you should have called. The one person that you should have relied on. Although maybe that was a reach, seeing that the commitments had ceased the day he had asked for a breakup.
That day was another memory shoved into the depths of your dark head.
You mindlessly scrolled through your contacts, most were people you haven’t talked to in ages. Or people, former friends, you had fallen out with. It would be a blow to the last shreds of dignity that you still desperately grasped onto.
Doubt was heavy on your shoulders as your fingers on a name that had caught your eyes several times.
You shouldn’t have been second-guessing yourself. Your heart shouldn’t have collapsed as you opened the forgotten DMS. Your fingers shouldn’t have been trembling as you typed in a few words. But it did. It all happened.
You gulped, eyes boring holes into the flashing luminescent screen. At the words itching to be sent.
I’m out of the hospital.
You took in a deep breath before hitting send. You immediately shut down your phone chucking across the bed. You watched sadly as it rested against your ankles.
You rested your body on your elbows, ignoring the digging pain in your back as you rested uncomfortably against the metal bed frame.
Your heart was thumping erratically as you waited for a ring from your phone. Even now…after all those unanswered texts and calls and voicemails, a small part of you hoped that he would reach out, to grab your flailing desperate hand.
A sudden buzz against your ankle made you jerk, your arms lunging for your phone.
You closed your eyes, muttering a small prayer before peering down at the screen. Your heart almost burst at the name that lingered in your notification scream.
Kenma.
You gulped. Fingers shaking as you opened his message. You didn’t have any expectations, but it was hard to not want a kind, warm message. But the voice in your screamed the opposite.
“Of course,” you chuckled humorlessly.
Of course.
What else should you have expected? You laughed at how the darkness in your soul knew Kenma better than you could have ever known him.
He might as well have slapped you in the face. A physical slap would have a wound you could treat. But there was no ointment to cure your cracking heart. Not as you looked at the indifferent word that popped up on your screen.
Okay.
Okay what, you thought spitefully as you swiped out of the message, leaving him on reading.
Not that he would realize. Or care.
Another buzz made you stop. Your face morphing into one of confusion. A number popped on your screen, the message making the hair down your spine prick up.
Y/N, come out.
It creeped you out. Of course, it did. And maybe it was the broken heart in you that earned for conversation or that brash part of you that didn’t care about what could happen. But you opened the message, spamming the question mark button.
It took a mere second for the unknown to reply.
I’m here to pick you up?
It sounded as if the person was just as confused as you.
Wrong number. You typed back.
This is Y/N L/N, right? It’s Akashi Keji.
“Oh,” your mouth popped open. Both at the immediate response. And the fact that the unknown number was Akaashi Keji.
TheAkaashi Keji.
A shameful blush coated your cheeks as you quickly typed back.
Sorry, Akaashi. I don’t think I added your contact name.
You groaned, dropping your phone to rub your bloodshot eyes.
I’m right out of the hospital Y/N if you would like to come.
You could almost feel the smug smirk that was surly spreading on his face.
Okay.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
There were many things you had lost in your last years of high school. One of those many things had been your friend from out of Nekoma. And yet, in the few years, you hadn’t had a conversation with most of them, you still managed to check-in, in your way. You were following the MBSY Twitter page, where Bokuto spontaneously posted. Akaashi’s natural tendency to shy away from the spotlight made it a bit more difficult, but you had managed to catch a glimpse of him now and then. Usually in other girls’ pictures, with a calm smile plastered on his face.
But seeing him right now. Face to face underneath the pale light of nightlights. It was a straight kick to the guts. His black hair had grown, curling behind his ears. His gemstone eyes glimmered underneath the faint light. But it was the smile that had caught you off guard. His lips had curved into a blissfully happy one, bringing around him that youthful glow you had seen around that one nurse.
You clutched your stomach at the nauseating feelings curling in your stomach, against your will.
“L/N, long time no talk.” he offered a hand as he opened a car door. You nodded to him, ignoring the outstretched hand as you carefully sat in the car. He didn’t say anything as he closed the passenger side door, before quickly going to the other side. His hand hovered over your own, before immediately landing on the black tinted hand gear.
“So,” he peeked a quick look at you, before pressing gently on the accelerator.
“So,” you repeated, leaning against the window, the cool touch of glass cooling down the fiery emotions in your stomach. He didn’t respond, merely humming gently.
The quiet that rested in the car was different from the one in the hospital. Here, in this car, you could force your raising thoughts to rest. Here, you could breathe. Although you couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.
“Do you have your address?” he asked, eyes not leaving the empty roads, glistening with the late-night dew.
“It’s that one apartment complex next to the river valley,” you answered, eyes flickering around the car.
“Nice car.” It came out drier than you expected.
“Thanks.” He paused before asking, “How are you?”
You were quiet. It was a question you knew that was coming. A question you knew that you couldn’t answer and wouldn’t answer.
“It’s…” you paused.
It’s bad.
Life sucks.
I want to–
“It’s good.” you quickly said. Akaashi gave a soft hum.
“How’s Kenma?”
“Good.”
“Is good your favourite word,” he teased, a smile slowly arising on his lips.
You couldn’t even force yourself to smile as he did.
“Yea.”
“You live pretty close to the hospital.”
It wasn’t a question so you didn’t respond.
“10 minutes, nice,” he said to no one in particular.
“Why…” you wanted to say something. To ask him why he showed up. Why did he even bother to act as he cared at all? Why…just why.
“Yes?” his eyebrows curved, framing the sharp angles of his face.
“Nothing,” you hastily muttered, a mixture of dread and relief pooling in your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar buildings and signs.
“This it?” he asked, motioning to the apartment buildings huddled together.
You nodded, fingers trembling as you undid your seatbelt.
“Y/N,” Akaashi called as you tumbled out of the silver car. You looked back, playing with the edges of the case on your phone.
“Put my name with my number this time,” he chuckled as you embarrassingly shut the door muttering small assurances. You watched as the silver car drove away, red lights contrasting the dim yellow lights of the nearby buildings.
You looked at the apartments, at the white one you should have called home. Staring into the distance, eyes glazing as you looked at the river valley wondering when you could ever call anything or anyone home.
