Chapter 50

The metal is cold in his hand, the cylinders crank noisily in the locking mechanism and Shouyou is all but ready to accept his fate as gusts of autumn air gust past his exposed ankles. He's thankful that he left his shoes on, thankful he'll see Grand King with warm feet. Mine. Mine. Mine. The door squeaks in the half second it takes to blow open, carrying his weak, heavy, and shaking arm with it. He sees the shadow of Tooru-san in front of him. He blinks. It shoots forward, holding onto him like Grand King would, chin resting on his shoulder, ready to nip at his neck and say things that confused him more than they should.

Sobbing. He was crying, he didn't feel like crying. In fact, his eyes are open and were starting to dry. "Thank god." Toru said, "Wa-I... Shouyou." Toru pulled back, leaned even further away, stared at him. He blinks again, the terror clotting his insides, making them heavy while his ears ring painfully. "Shouyou?" Toru asks, more cautious this time. Shouyou lets out a cry of his own, sick sobbing then a laugh, a cackle from nowhere as snot starts to squirm down from his nose.

"You're not-" The door shuts, doesn't squeak this time but the bolt clicks noisily, making him flinch. He sobers up instantly. "Sorry for frightening you." The darkness says from just in front of him, where there used to be a obscure shape of moonlight is now infinite grey. "It's fine." He says, even though it's not, even though his heart weighs more than he does and is beating faster than seems healthy, though he's not a doctor.

There's quiet, both of them resorting back to sobbing in the middle of a dark room where neither of them belong, then there's sound of rain running across the roof but only in front of him and then everything is too bright.

Kiyoko-san's figure is slumped against the door, her back to him. Shouyou can only tell it's her from her hair, though he supposes anyone could have long black hair. Her outstretched arm is the only thing keeping her from being completely curled onto herself. The lightswitch, he realizes a moment later, though he realizes it's most likely useless information.

"Kiyoko-san?" He asks, fearful, scared of a trick of more pictures, of her being followed by Grand King, of his friend getting the same message and being terrified enough to be where she shouldn't be. Sako would be furious, he thinks uselessly, Kiyoko-san is already here in Sako's apartment. Wearing nothing but a long white t-shirt.

She turns around suddenly, her face is clearer than he thinks it should be, not covered in snot like his feels, her eyes are barely red. "I'm really sorry." She says, clutching her stomach like she might puke. Her wrists are purple and her hands are crimson. Her stomach, too. Shouyou swallows down too many questions.

"You're bleeding." He says, uselessly, he thinks. Kiyoko-san would know if she was bleeding, or should, maybe. The red is beautiful but not in a beautiful way, his heart starts racing again and he wondered when it had ever slowed down.

"Where's the bathroom?" She asks, calm though avoiding his stare.

Shouyou moves out of the way, taking a step back and lifting his numb arm in answer. Kiyoko-san mumbles something as she passes him. He watches as she moves past him, both of them careful not to get too close to one another, similar to the way animals are. He finds that analogy too fitting at the moment, but has not time to dwell on it as his feet decide to chase after Kiyoko-san before his brain can catch up. The door slams in front of him, he stops in the dim hallway, standing outside the door with a bleeding girl - a bleeding Kiyoko-san - behind it. He should do something. Tanaka-san would kill him if he didn't do everything he could to help her, not to mention Noya-Senpai. Water gushes up muffled static and he hopes that Kiyoko-san doesn't drown in Sako's bathroom, he'd hate to have to explain that.

His feet move him into the kitchen, his arms pull on handles and he takes control of his eyes to scan through the cabinets and cupboards only to look at nearly bare space. There's no first aid kit in the kitchen, and he's not sure what to do after searching through the entire space twice, then another time just to make sure. He stands in the quiet space, the light fixture buzzing noisily as he settles on the cold ground and curls his arms around his legs. The cold is seeping in now, his relief and fear mixing. Grand King - Toru - hadn't been at the door, but that meant he'd have to be awake for longer, waiting for the older boy to show himself, waiting for something to happen. Something always happens.

The sound of running water goes on for a long time, though it could be a normal amount of time considering that Kiyoko-san was bleeding and bruised, he wasn't entirely sure. The noise drifts in and out of his awareness but he does notice when it stops, he also notices when the door, not the front one that's locked, keeping the world out and away, but the bathroom door that Kiyoko-san had shielded herself with. Footsteps grow louder, closer until her exposed legs, pale like her face, peak into view, then the rest of her, modestly covered in a towel and dripping onto the plain floors of Sako's kitchen.

"Why are you here?" He asks, scared and suddenly the weight of the situation pushes down onto him. Shouyou watches as the girl flinches back, head jerking as if his question had assaulted her, mimicking the wound on her chest or stomach. He supposes his version of the question was quite rude, but he was tired, scared - terrified - and he opened the door expecting something else, something more terrifying and this situation made him feel numb but nothing else.

"Why are you bleeding, I mean - er, are you okay? You're not still bleeding?" Some of the shock leaks from Kiyoko-san's face, settling back into her usual cool and neutral expression despite being considerably paler, and more damp.

"No." She answers, rubbing at the towel over her stomach. He wonders if it hurt a lot or if she was feeling just as numb as he was. Shouyou takes her word for it, is content with them both lingering in a kitchen that doesn't belong to them.

"Thank you." Kiyoko-san says suddenly, voice tense like it took more energy than usual to get words out.

"For answering, I mean." She adds, focused on wringing her hair and very much not looking down at him. He nods, knowing -assuming- she was watching him, equally as wary as he was, but for different reasons, maybe.

"What happened?" He asks, tense all over and furious at the thought of someone hurting his friend, scared to find out who, and worried about the truth she wasn't telling him right away. Kiyoko-san takes a step back, pale shoulders colliding with the wall immediately behind her. Shouyou is torn between helping her and scooting further away but does nothing, just watches his friend breathe deeply and saying nothing.

"Can we not talk about it and...?" She asks eventually, staring at him intently now, intimidating and feral all at once. Shouyou finds himself nodding without meaning to, he wanted to know, wanted to help. "...Can I sleep here?" She tacks on, eventually.

The question seems out of place, and he assumes it is because he's never had a sudden house guest before. By here, he hopes that she means in the hallway, and not in a bed.

"Yes." He answers plainly, certainly ignoring the warning from Sako, his aunt's words creeping painfully across his foggy mind.

Sako should be here, snoring loudly enough for him to hear from the living room but, she wasn't. She could be with Natsu, playing games and spending time with a niece that doesn't know she has an aunt. He certainly hoped that was the case, though he had no way of actually finding out besides calling her, nonchalantly asking if she was dead or if she minded someone sleeping over, despite instructions not to go near said person. Shouyou believed that some part of his aunt would say yes, that caring for those in need was in her genes like it was in his, the same pull in her gut that guided his. He tried to forget Sako's old ways, crushing pills into his meals and treating him coldly.

He shook his head, tonight wasn't about Sako, he had to focus on what was happening in front of him. Kiyoko-san shifts her weight from one foot to the other, he mimics her, desperate for answers but avoiding to look directly into her eyes. His gaze settles on her hands, stares at the twitching of her pale fingers and at the purple bands pressed into her skin, like someone spilled ink on her. They looked almost decorative, but Shouyou knew how much they must have hurt.

"Clothes!" He shouts, making them both jump. The chill in his face dissipates, replaced with the heat of embarrassment. "Sorry," he shrieks, no less quiet, unsettled with Kiyoko-san's wide-eyed look, "You're um... dripping, I mean." He laments lamely, just thankful for something to do. He darts out of the room, into Sako's living room where he keeps his belongings. Her shadow looms over him as he pulls out a pair of shorts, not his practice ones, and a t-shirt, just as white as the one that Kiyoko-san showed up at the door at. He's pretty sure it had belonged to Daichi, far too much material to belong to him, or even Kenma. He contemplates handing her a pair of his boxers, but is too embarrassed to pull a pair out from the bag, a voice, like Noya-senpai and Tanaka combined screaming about soiling Kiyoko's purity through male underwear or something like that. His hands linger inside of his dufflebag for a moment longer, making sure to bury his underwear, as well as the bright orange bottles that had been sitting on top of the mass of laundry.

Taking the two articles into his hands, holding them like a small animal, Shouyou finds himself back to his full height, twisting his body to hand the clothing to a still dripping Kiyoko-san, she's much bigger up close, the color in her eyes that much brighter, the barrier of her glasses and uniform gone. She looks both and less human like this. Kenma is the same way, he thinks, both on and off the court. With and without his family around. A coin has many sides, he thinks, trying to find the correct phrasing of that metaphor, but coming up with nothing. "Thank you," Kiyoko-san says, bowing shallowly, Shouyou feels warm suddenly, filled with pride for having Kiyoko-san's gratitude, but also dread and shame at the circumstances surrounding it. The photo of them together, walking home, not alone. He swallows back an outburst, one that wouldn't help either of them. Focus on Kiyoko-san, he thinks, reminded of Natsu for reasons he can't fathom. Natsu never towered over him with dripping black hair, never made his hands shake like this -except when he learned he couldn't see her again. The urge to see her, to have her meet Kiyoko-san and Kenma, was all too much, suddenly. His hands started shaking.

Kiyoko-san takes the clothes away from him, no longer looking at him. Shouyou wonders what she might think of him, shaking, scared for a reason she couldn't understand. He envies her in this moment, not knowing about Toru, who's so close to them. When she disappears into the bathroom, Shouyou can almost hear Toru's voice, calling to him, saying things that he loves, saying the same things that scare him. Making him scared of the dark, making him confused about love. Confused about... everything. Should he love Toru when he loves Kenma? No. Toru's voice tells him, not when he belongs to Toru, belongs under the Grand King. Kuroo's words echo as well, pushing into his brain, making him gag as he relives their first encounter too suddenly. He scratches at his arms, not enough to pull skin, just trying to pull himself away from everything. He needed to be ready for Toru, to protect Kiyoko-chan, to let himself love Toru like Toru loves him. He owes Grand King that much, he's sure of that, he thinks.

The door to the bathroom opening up, creaking and shedding light over his frozen form stopped his brain in its tracks, leaving him unable to come to any conclusions about his feeling towards Grand King. He just had to believe in Kenma, in the boy's plan. Kenma would save him from Toru and from himself, Shouyou was sure of that, if nothing else. Kiyoko-san was standing in front of him once more, still dripping but now dressed in his clothes.

"Thank you... again, Shouyou." She didn't bow this time, allowing her to stare into his soul. It wasn't unsettling as he thought it should be.

"W-where should I sleep?" Kiyoko-san asked after a long moment of silence, in which Shouyou kept thinking of Toru and Kenma... and Kuroo.

"Uh..." He could put her in his aunt's room, though if she came home - he'd have no idea how to handle that. "In-" He could put her on the couch and he could take the floor, though that was too close to the door, Toru's gateway to him - to them. Not to mention what Noya-senpai and Tanaka would think if they found out he made their goddess sleep on a couch."In the bedroom." He finishes, sliding past her in the small hallway to put his hand on the doorknob to Sako's bedroom. Taking a breath to prepare him for the worst, thinking back to those endless pictures of his father, staring at him with eyes filled with hate. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushes the door open and takes a step inside. Opening his eyes reveals a too dim room that smells like Coach Ukai - cigarettes and microwave food. Kiyoko-san flicks on the lights, showering the room in bright light. Yuukio is nowhere to be found. Shouyou releases a deep breath, unaware of when he had stopped breathing.

He takes another step into the small bedroom, still no Yuukio. Swallowing down an acidic lump in his throat, Shouyou turns to Kiyoko-san, "There's the bed." He states, for no reason other than the silence was beginning to ring in his ears. Kiyoko-san moves past him, sits on the edge of Sako's bed, clothed in his clothes, an extremely odd sight. One that he had never expected to see, though he's kind of glad. Happy for the disturbance, that he doesn't have to be alone and scared, thankful that the presence of another is enough to drive away his fears, if only sporadically. He takes a step backwards, ready to let Kiyoko-san sleep, to not ask any questions, just like she had done for him.

"Shouyou..." Kiyoko-san whispers. He looks away from the rug on Sako's floor. "Will you sit with me?" It doesn't feel like a question, more of a demand, the same way that Sako would speak to him when things were still normal. Hesitation wraps his feet in cement, he's not supposed to be in here. She's not supposed to be here. Shouyou swallows again, but steps forward, until he's on the bed with Kiyoko-san, sitting as far apart as he can. Kiyoko-san goes prone as soon as he's seated.

"Will you talk with me for a minute?" Her request, though Shouyou would, once again, deem it as more of a command, if he knew anything about growing up with three women.

"A-about what?" His inquiry creates a veil of unexpected silence. It makes him shudder, too anxious all at once in the few seconds that Kiyoko-san just sits there, eyes like glass, staring at the ceiling.

Kiyoko-san remains quiet for another minute -hour... eternity, before answering, "I dunno." Her voice, quiet like usual, but more expressive than Shouyou's ever heard. "You probably think it's silly but... I don't want to be alone right now."

He didn't think it was stupid, not at all; he couldn't be what Kenma was to him at times like these - now that he thinks about it, his showing up Kenma's and Kiyoko-san showing up at Sako's are almost identical situations - but he could be a friend. Kiyoko-san may not step onto the court a player, but that didn't make her any less of a teammate. He could do this. For Karasuno, and for Kiyoko-san. "It's not... stupid, Kiyoko-san. I don't want to be alone either." He expresses, truthfully, as his nature.

What to talk about? What to say?

Shouyou can't think of anything.

"Tell me a story." Kiyoko-san says, an explosion in the quiet. Shouyou jumps, his head jerks in her direction, wondering if she noticed.

She didn't.

"A-a story? Like a bedtime story?"

Kiyoko-san shrugs in response. Shouyou almost laughs, the more time he spent with the team manager, the more he found her reminding him of Natsu. Though, if he were being completely honest, everything was starting to remind him of Natsu lately.

"About your scars. About why you bit that guy. Why you disappeared... We see each other everyday, but I don't feel like I know anything about you, Shouyou." Each word that spills from her mouth is like dumping a load of cement into his gut. Shouyou swallows, terrified instantly, of speaking, of letting someone know the truth. "You don't have to, but... I want to know more about my teammate."

Teammate. Soaring. Together.

Almost like a family.

Shouyou leans back, mimicking Kiyoko-san's position, "I guess... it all started when I met Kenma, I-"

Kiyoko-san interrupts before he can continue. "The Nekoma setter?"

Shouyou smiles, volleyball almost the last thing he'd use to describe Kenma anymore, but he nods anyway, it'd become clearer as he told his story.

Kiyoko-san listens raptly, her eyes on him, his on the ceiling, mouth numb as he admits to everything that's happened. Meeting Kenma. Seeing Grand King. The words that made him question everything. Meeting with Grand King, which turned into dating Grand King - now Toru. Falling in love with Kenma, so quickly, head of heels in an instant. The truth about his mother and Sako. Missing Natsu. Seeing Kuuro. Meeting Kuuro. Crying. Being terrified of being alive, of being alone and in the dark. So scared without someone looking out for him.

Kiyoko-san sniffles, Shouyou tries to look at her but his vision is long past blurry.

He turns on his side, ashamed suddenly, stopping his story while he readjusts. Kiyoko-san follows, spooning him. It feels odd, different than Kenma. She doesn't fit perfectly against his back like Kenma does, not even like Toru does. Her... chest is pressing against his spine. His face heats up further, but Kiyoko-san just rubs his side, trying to soothe him.

He continues his story, spilling everything that he's kept locked away since that flash of red.

Shouyou wakes up unable to open his eyes, his eyelids feel sealed together and they burn more with each attempt. He gives up, eventually, after several minutes and settles for rubbing them, using his fingers to dig crust off of his face. Surprisingly, though it shouldn't be, the crust trails down his cheeks and into the curve of his neck. Tear tracks. The events of the night before replay in clipped audio, his own voice grating against the pulsing, aching nerves of his brain. She knows. His cheeks heat up at the same time his eyes start burning, cement trickles down his throat as easily as spit and settles into a pool of dread. She knows. His mind screeches the words, he doesn't need the reminder. He slipped up. Not good. He jumps off the bed, Sato's bed, he doesn't have one anymore, because he slipped up once before. His brain berates him without end as he walks out of his aunt's room, countless insults he didn't even know he knew thrown at him by his own subconscious. He refuses to release any more tears though, and maybe that's why he has trouble focusing his eyes, reading the time and notifications on his cell phone. Kenma texted him, as he usually does. His dread lightens a little, happy, for now at least, that Kenma wasn't disappointed with him for telling someone, though he's not sure why the older boy would be; he needs to get his brain under control.

Morning, Shouyou.

Good Morning! He's pretty sure his first text in the morning should not contain any, especially not two, exclamation points, but oh well, he missed Kenma, missed the calm affect the boy put over him like a blanket.

I took my pills. Another message, quickly typed before Kenma could ask. Although the message was a little bit of a lie, as he was technically twisting the cap off the bottle after he'd sent the message, not that Kenma needed to know that.

Good. Have fun at school. Shouyou snorted, but a smile twisted his lips in a way he had no control over.

My mom says you can come over whenever. His chest tightened at that, emotions twisting his guts into a mess all over again. Kuroo would... Kuroo wants him away from Kenma, but wants to help him with Tooru. Too confusing.

Thank you and her. The message types it self out before his eyes, he watches his shaking, twitching hands close his phone, setting it back down on the floor. There was too much going on, Kenma, Tooru, Kuroo, Kiyoko-san; not to mention his less than stellar studies. When this is over... He's not sure what would happen after Kenma's plan happens. Kuroo would keep him away from Kenma, keep him from any feeling of safety he'd had since his father- since Yuukio died.

Slapping his cheeks, he'd pushed himself away from the statuesque pose he'd taken over his cell phone and started rifling through his duffle bag. Matching pills wobbled between his lip, clenched between his front teeth, as he tugged out his wrinkled school uniform. Staring at it made him miss home, missed the stability of his schedule, of his living place, of everything that revolved around him. Now it's as if his hometown never existed, that he was all but exiled from what he'd called home at one point, from the people he considered family. At least now, he had a new family, of sorts, Daichi and Suga, Kenma, of course, Sato, and maybe Kiyoko-san, he wasn't sure. She knew about him, about everything that's happened to him, and didn't consider him disgusting or dirty, unworthy of being touched by someone of her standing.

It was that swelling of melancholic joy that carried him to the bathroom and helped him put on his school uniform, and swallow his pills with the aid of the bathroom sink, though he still cringed at their chalky taste. That joy, however dim it might be, didn't last long for him, however; stepping out of the bathroom, he stopped in the doorway of his aunt's room, eyes locked onto the form of his sleeping club manager, though she was undoubtedly more than that by now, a friend at the very least, like Yachi, but at the same time not, Yachi didn't know about Tooru, didn't know how he had scratched the skin off his arms because he was scared of Tooru, or much he loved Kenma and his attention. He doubted the blonde girl even noticed that he'd changed residences, though it was a secret he'd tried his best to keep, more so than his relationship with Tooru, for it was far more embarrassing to have been banished from his home than that he's has the attention of the Grand King on him at all times.

Shouyou stepped forward, into the threshold of the forbidden room, a place where the haunting eyes of his father, as well as other family members, were hidden, but thankfully out of sight. He placed his hand on Kiyoko's shoulder and began with rocking, and eventually shaking vigorously. Natsu doesn't even sleep this deeply. Although he's pretty sure that Natsu had never shown up at a classmate's door with nothing but a shirt on. Instead of pausing in mortification, the middle blocker started shaking even harder, trying to get rid of those thoughts out of his head. A quick prayer, something he'd learned at church all those weeks ago, that Natsu would never, ever end up in a situation like that.

"Kiyoko... san." He said, voice quaking for disuse, and breath still vile from not brushing; he hoped the odor helped wake her up a little faster, if they missed the bus they'd be at least thirty minutes late, if not more.

The girl woke up with a gasp as Shouyou started considering how he'd have to find a bike and carry them both to the school. Kiyoko-san's gaze settled on his face, piercing eyes filled with waning panic. It didn't take much intuition from him to realize that he could have been more gentle in waking her from slumber, or that she might have been having a nightmare. Unsure, Shouyou removed his hand from the girl's shoulder, having completed his self-appointed task.

"Th-the bus is going to c-come by soon, for school, I mean, uh..." Even he could hear how lame he sounded, which, Shouyou supposed, should be saying something about his sprouting stuttering. At least something is growing about me. He thought darkly.

"Right." She muttered, voice as groggy as his, but infinitely more beautiful than he could ever be.

One thing, something he unfortunately hadn't considered until it was too late, was that Kiyoko-san didn't have a school uniform, and they'd have to leave even earlier if she had one at school she could change into. Another was that the older Karasuno student did not have a toothbrush at this residence, because she did not, in fact, live here. Kenma wouldn't have had a problem figuring this stuff out. Though he doubted even Kageyama would be as dense as he was this morning. Only this morning, though. He confirmed, taking a step back from the bed as if lamenting the fact.

"Y-you need a uniform, don't you?" He asked, coming out of his mental self-evaluation to stare at his club manager as she rubbed at her eyes with balled up fists.

She paused in her actions after he finished speaking, steely eyes on him once again, more guarded than they had been when he'd first woken her up. Her hands remained in fists, but rested against her lap now instead of scratching at her eyes. She looked down before responding, "I can get one from my apartment." He nodded, moving closer to the door. The bus was going to leave, regardless of their state of dress, as rude as that thought seemed. He still needed to brush his teeth and wash his face.

Shouyou rushed through those two tasks, wiping his face down with the only towel on the rack, ignoring that it was still damp, and headed towards the door. Kiyoko-san was waiting for him, it seemed. Still in his shirt and shorts, sitting on the end of the couch near the door, something red in her hands. A wicked anger boiled his blood in seconds before he could put a stopper on it, he refused to move, to interact with her until he calmed down. Kenma's jacket. He wasn't worried the scent of the older boy would be whisked away, replaced with roses and Kiyoko, and he's not embarrassed at her discovering his most prized possession, he's just... He's not sure what he is, actually, which isn't something new. He steps forward with intent, however, intent to keep his gift secure.

"Sorry." Kiyoko-san whispers, obviously noticing something on his face that he'd failed to hide before walking over. His face flushed, now embarrassed at his own behavior. "This belongs to Kozume?" She asked, though he's pretty sure it's more of a statement than an actual question, but he finds himself humming in affirmation regardless. They're stuck in a standstill for an eternity, Kiyoko-san stroking the white stamp of Kenma's school while Shouyou stares into the infinite redness. Calm washes over him, pushing his anxiety to the edges of his consciousness, though his sense of time is dulled, he's still cognizant enough that they need to leave soon, but the remnant of Kenma keeps drawing him in like an embrace from across hundreds of kilometers.

Finally, she set down the object, folding the article into a neat square and placing it where it had been resting previously. "We should go." She says, though not rushed as either of them really should be. Shouyou nods, sitting down on the floor to tug on his shoes. Turning around to grab his cell phone and tucking it into his pocket, he deems himself ready to leave, physically, anyway, emotionally, he'd rather curl up on the couch, Kenma's jacket draped over him and nothing to bother him. Maybe one day, he thinks, cheeky smirk crossing his face as he imagines a future with an embrace from the actual Kenma.

The metal is cold in his hand, the cylinders crank noisily in the locking mechanism, and Shouyou hopes he can find the strength to get through the day at school, resisting the urge to catch a train to Tokyo to take Kenma and his mother's offer. Kiyoko-san follows him, a steady presence at his side as he shuts and locks the door to his aunt's apartment. They take a few steps forward together, but it Shouyou that has to initiate the stop in front of Kiyoko's residence, as the older teen seems to be lost in thought. She stops along side him, then looks towards the door; Shouyou is observant enough to notice the flinch that nearly knocks her head off her shoulders. She takes a deep breath, then places a hand on the handle.

"Will... you come with me?" The question is something Shouyou had never expected and had to rewind several times before he could comprehend, let alone respond, to the request, though he finds himself nodding, ever the people-pleaser, before his brain had come to that conclusion. The door to Kiyoko-san's apartment is much quieter than that of his aunt's, it doesn't creak at all as a sliver of blackness turns into a rectangular and endless abyss before him. Kiyoko-san surges into the darkness, only visible due to the whiteness of her - his - shirt. He steps forward too, ignoring the smell of something he couldn't identify, and groped along the wall beside the door for a light switch. Transforming the abyss into a living room may have been a mistake, he thinks, for all intents and purposes, it could be a very normal and modern living room, except for the large, not exactly countless, as he could probably count them if he had the same amount of free time as the contributor, number of bottles, all of them with identical labels, though none he could recognize as soda or coffee. Though, the worst, and easily most disturbing, addition to the living room was the pool, though he wondered if it could even be considered a pool if it was, by the looks of it, completely dry, of blood. He recognized the color instantly, not even red, really. Brown, like dead leaves, his mind supplies, unhelpfully in his opinion.

Daring not to take a step forward, for fear of having a panic attack or to resist the urge to scratch at his arms, the wait for Kiyoko-san seems infinite. He's undoubtedly thankful that she returns minutes later, dressed appropriately for school, and as per usual, a large book positioned between her arm and side. She looks normal, he realizes, except for her eyes, Kiyoko-san's eyes are not the same almost bored expression, instead, when she locks gazes with him, her feet avoiding the not-pool without looking, he only feels something like a lock clicking into place; a deal being formed between them. She blinks, I won't tell, is what it means, he thinks, maybe, both positively sure and also confused beyond reason. You don't tell, his mind finishes. Shouyou finds himself nodding beyond his control, under Kiyoko-san's command.

They exit the apartment without a word, both dressed for school but minds far, far away from the forgettable trek to the bus stop.

He could have been wrong, of course, but somehow, judging from the guarded way with which Kiyoko-san was reading her book, the one on French still, he couldn't help but feel that his deduction was spot on, though he really, really wished it wasn't. He's glad though, just a little bit, that Kiyoko-san, that someone trusts him enough to share with him. It felt nice, he supposes, to protect someone, even if it was only for a night, really; he had a feeling that he'd cherish it more than Kiyoko-san would, as she had an endless line of people willing to protect her, to die for her in the case of Tanaka and Noya-senpai. He doubted she'd even remember that night years from now, though Shouyou wished he could forget most of it, forget the fear of Tooru, the boy who loved him, the boy to whom he belonged. Mine, Mine, Mine. Shouyou's grip tightened on his knees, only to suddenly remember that he'd forgotten his school bag, and it was far too late to jump off the bus by now. Tooru, he considered, remembering their times together, remembering the words that sparked their relationship, the first time Tooru touched him, kissed him, their moment in the woods where he'd been shaking in excitement at being the center of attention by a great volleyball player. Now, he thinks, pointlessly, every part of him dreads being with Tooru, being loved by Tooru, but he still wants to... thank him, for loving him, for being with him despite everything. Even Kageyama had been distancing himself, however minutely, from him since his life had literally turned upside down. They were still partners though, he supposed he could say the same about Tooru, that he owed him to be partners, at least, until Tooru didn't want him anymore. He hoped, with more faith than he'd ever thought possible, that Kenma's plan would be enough to make up their minds. That Shouyou would find out how he felt about Tooru, and that the older boy would forgive him, tell him that he'd always love him, that'd they'd be friends and rivals, that'd he'd stay away, that he's proud of him. I'm so messed up, he thinks, miserable and anxious, not for the first time that morning.

The bus pulls to a stop, Kiyoko-san puts her book away and leads the way off the bus, composure fully in tact now. Shouyou couldn't be more grateful for the stability the older teen offered to him, the untouchable Kiyoko-san, the manager for Karasuno's volleyball club, he needed the support at the moment, and she didn't seem to mind, or notice, that it was him that was depending on her for safety in the short walk to the gates of the school.

Shouyou thought, not for the first time, that he was as crazy as the orange bottle stated, but after that...

School was a blur.

Life was a blur.

Shouyou was busy thinking.

Thinking about him.

About Tooru Oikawa.

The boy he'd worshiped so easily because he was Kageyama's senpai, because he was good at volleyball, because he was too smart for his own good. Shouyou hated him, or that's what he told himself, at least. He tried his hardest to follow his own instructions, but knowing the other boy, seeing him smile in the woods, seeing him confident in his own skin, something Shouyou could never achieve without the aid of others. Tooru Oikawa was a hurricane, he was sure of that, if nothing else. Hurricans were exciting, but very, very dangerous. Too dangerous for a human to survive, let alone love; not like loving Kenma, that was easy, so easy and lovely and heartwarming and perfect.

Kenma deserves more. More than Shouyou, more than anyone, really. The quiet boy was perfect in every way. Shouyou knew that for certain. Loving Kenma made him a bad person, he was also sure of that, selfishly taking what didn't belong to him, belonging to someone more deserving than him. Shouyou was disgusted with himself for that, for taking Kenma's love, knowing that he didn't deserve it. He deserved the storm, deserved the darkness, to be alone but not. Kenma chose me, he thinks, trying to rationalize, trying to cling even more, but that just made him itch, made him want to scream as he packed away the last of his school supplies. Instead, he settled on biting his lip, not enough to make it bleed, but something to distract him from the lies he was trying to sell to himself. Kenma chose me, he repeats to his brain, to his soul, to everything that makes up Shouyou... Kozume. Taking on the mantle of Kenma's family made him giddy, though he knew that it shouldn't, that it could and would never happen, let alone be a possibility. Kenma would see better, would see that Shouyou himself is a storm.

There was something relieving about admitting that much, that he was a storm. Nobody would love a storm. He'd just suck them in, damage them, and spit them out, or they'd run. He hoped that Kenma would run, that everyone close to him would follow. Part of him, the selfish monstrous part, kept tugging at strings. Wanting something, be it love or affection, some affirmation that he was alive, that he existed, that he mattered to someone. That his life held meaning. Something he couldn't achieve without help. This, he supposed, was his greatest fault, the need for others, the need to validate himself with kind words and embraces and insistent pressing of lips. The darkness he feared knew what he needed as well, knew that he'd cling onto anything, especially someone perfect like Kenma Kozume.

Shouyou knew all of this about himself, and hated himself, with more passion than his aspiring volleyball career but...

He still clung on.

"Yo!" A voice. Not Kenma's though.

Shouyou stopped walking, he's not even sure when he had started.

"Ready for practice?" His body, Shouyou curses, lead him here, knowing that it would get what it craved. A hand in his hair, ruffling and burning, but warm; so warm.

"You're not even dressed yet." The gym did feel warmer than usual, he supposed, suddenly more aware of his own presence, of that itchy material of his uniform pants.

The voice speaks again, closer this time, "Is everything okay?" No, no, no. His mind screeches, repetitive and growing louder.

"Yeah!" He says, boisterous so suddenly that he flinches from the voice coming from his body. His mouth laughs though he feels no humor, he hates himself even more. "I was so ready for practice that I forgot to change." His hand scratches the back of his head, his fingers sliding against warm, warm skin that doesn't belong to him.

His eyes seem to render control back to him and he finally sees everything as if for the first time, Daichi leaning over him, face close and skin tanned as ever. Concern lingers in his captain's eyes even as he leans back, laughing a laugh that sounds more fake than his own did.

"Right. Go change..." Daichi says, "and uh..." The older boy tacks on, though it seems unintentional as Daichi's lips don't seem intent on moving from their twisted position under his captain's teeth.

Shouyou mumbles something, he doesn't even know what to make of the sounds that escape his lips, doesn't bother an attempt of an explanation as he backs out of the gym doors. The sun is still bright, blinding, as he moves towards the stairs, intent on changing for something to do, intent for contact and being surrounded by his victims, the ones he has sucked into his storm. Something slithers around like a snake in his brain and under his skin, leaking insults and insecurities and sounding so much like Grand King that he tugs on his ears until his skin burns and he's worried his ears will be ripped from his skull. At least then he wouldn't have to hear that voice anymore. He sprints to the team room, pushing it open and not registering that anything was inside of the space until voices articulate in front of him.

He nearly jumps out of his own skin at them, voices outside of his head, like it was such a foreign and strange concept. He nods, something of a greeting, he can't trust his voice at the moment. Only when he starts tugging his shirt off, does he notice something, and only when he's holding the material as a blob in his hands does he realize that his hands are shaking, shaking with energy he doesn't feel in the slightest. Not knowing what is wrong with him, Shouyou drops the shirt onto the ground and begins tugging on another one, his practice jersey, with short sleeves and possessing the cold grasp on disuse. His knees tremble as he removes his pants, waiting long enough for everyone to leave before he even attempts at unbuckling the buttons, they fall in a heap at his ankles and he shakes them off, nearly losing his balance if not for the wall in front of him. With one hand, he pulls on his shorts, revealing his pale, hairless limbs. All in all, he feels exposed and indefinitely vulnerable. His brain chose this, and he knows why, but his body is putting up so much resistance that he thinks he might snap in two.

In the gym, he's instantly surrounding by arms, his hair covered in fingers, and smiles, bright like the sun, from too many people. It feels heavenly, like he'd died on the way down the stairs and was instantly surrounded by his most desperate desires.

It doesn't last long, but the effect withstands the time it takes him to realize that he is, in fact, still alive, and similarly, happy. Swelling warmth, like a thousand kisses from Kenma, the same warmth he felt in that bathroom in Tokyo with Bokuto-san.

His first spike broke the cloud of oppressiveness that had resided over him, shattered any negative thoughts like glass. He loved this feeling, of being complete without anybody but his teammates, not even needing their touch, but accepting the high-fives regardless. One after another, after another, he spiked them, slamming the ball to the ground, seeing over the wall over and over. He was flying, soaring for once.

"Nice one, Shouyou!"

"One more!"

"Nice!"

Everything was so lighthearted and serene and peaceful, despite the fact that he was running out of breath, panting with his hands on his knees, trembling still, but now in a good way. Tanaka-senpai slapped him on the back, leaving a stinging mark, but he felt nothing but elation as he was surrounded in his own jubilation.

He found it easy to laugh off his own mistakes, when an attempt to keep an out ball in play sent him somersaulting across the floor and knocking over a dozen water bottles, he cackled and continued practicing with his teammates. It was amazing.

He was more than a storm in those two hours, then it was over. Practice was ending, and in his high, he had volunteered to clean up. A fool's errand, but he still smiled as he unwrapped the pads from around the pillars that kept the net up, and even as he spent the next eternity mopping the floor under the hazy light of the gym's overheads.

The silence was unwelcome, but unfortunately, unflinching in its presence. It didn't even occur to him until he was completely finished that he was the only one in the gym at the moment, that he was the only one cleaning. He laughed, once more, at his own stupidity, but the voice didn't crawl back in, slithering inside of him and confessing his sins to him. The gym was protecting him, from himself, it would seem, and he was more than grateful.

He spent the next twelve days, that way, grateful for being with his team, grateful for the gym.