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Occassionally, very occassionally, Bokuto goes through these episodes. Not his regular mood swings, or even his reported “dejected mode,” but a considerably different kind of thing.
It’s not well documented by people. For as much as people underestimate Bokuto’s ability to control his emotions, he is certainly good at hiding this particular occurrence. Yet for as great as he is at masking it and excusing himself before it happens, it still couldn’t slip past the likes of Akaashi and Yukie, who spend enough time with him that seeing it became an eventuality. Akaashi being himself had slowly but surely compiled information on these episodes, but even he couldn’t tell you their exact rules, a result of how infrequent and different as each one tends to be.
As such the only human to truly understand how to deal with such an episode, after seeing it so many times over the course of a lifetime, is Bokuto himself. In other words, the only way to truly know what to do in the event of one of them is to grab that info from him in person— which is all fine and dandy until you realize that he never talks about it himself. Only ever in passing. Only ever in whispered apologies and warnings.
It’s frustrating, Kuroo thinks as he paces the dorm’s hallway, nodding along to what little information Akaashi can spare him over the phone as though the resident Bokuto expert can see the action.
Kuroo can’t see Bokuto through the door, only hear his faint whimpers and the occasional sound of something hitting the mattress. It is Bokuto’s head, Kuroo already knows. Last time he saw his boyfriend he was on the floor, seated with his elbows so close to himself that they touched his cheeks, rocking back and forth and mumbling. Occasionally Bokuto will stop in his tracks, shiver at times, go limp for half a minute at a time at others. Sometimes he’ll hit his head against the soft plush of Kuroo’s bunk, the one they usually share.
Akaashi tells him that’s a good thing, he’s hurt himself doing that against harder things before. Akaashi tells him Bokuto is trying, Kuroo sees it in the way he’s wedged himself between a desk, a chair, and a mountain of pillows. Kuroo saw it the second Bokuto tried to beg him to leave for the evening, that if he doesn’t he’d get hurt.
It made Kuroo’s blood boil even thinking about leaving him alone at a time like this.
The call isn’t as helpful as Kuroo had hoped it’d be. It boils down to explaining how to keep Bokuto safe from his most common actions, and to be careful with what he gets told in this state.
”Don’t confuse him, don’t joke about things like time or hating him. Be blunt. Be patient. Good luck.”
Kuroo thanks Akaashi, promises to tell him when everything blows over. He would’ve tried to come over himself, but the episodes only last so long and the train-ride from Fukuroudani to Kuroo and Bokuto’s university is just too long.
When Kuroo finally walks into the room Bokuto doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are wide and unblinking, staring holes into the mattress. One hand is opening and closing near him, just out of vision, while the other presses crescents into his bicep. He almost jolts out of it, moves to quickly bang his head against the chair behind him and only softens the landing a few milliseconds before impact, as though he’d consciously remembered to take care of this body.
That’s what Bokuto had said to Kuroo, ”this body,” not ”my body.” When Kuroo approaches him and crouches beside him gently, Bokuto turns his head (or perhaps turns the head, in his own words) towards Kuroo. He stares at Kuroo’s chest instead of his eyes, and Kuroo can see how glazed Bokuto’s eyes are as well as the tears trickling down his cheeks.
His pupils are dilated, unfocused, flickered from side to side slightly. Kuroo can see the sweat beading at his forehead, and the tension in his jaw. It slackens for a second, but far too much for it to be comfortable.
Kuroo swallows. “Hey buddy,”
He says, voice soft like he were talking to a fragile and terrified puppy. Bokuto takes well to it, relaxing slightly more, actually blinking with a flutter of his eyelashes for the first time since Kuroo had come into the room.
Kuroo takes this as a good sign, and continues as he moves to sit cross legged next to Bokuto, resting his head on the mattress. “You okay?”
That makes Bokuto tense up. He shakes a little, then shakes his head roughly from side to side.
“You,” he hoarsely calls out, somewhere between a shout and a whimper, “that’s not m— I’m not, it hurts to— don’t say it. Please”
“Sorry, sorry,” Kuroo raises his hands in surrender, heart wrenching at the sight, “is there anything I can do?”
Bokuto seems to think this through a bit, and his leg twitches. His fingers curl and uncurl u comfortably.
“I dunno,” he starts, voice even and bored, it’s far away and different from the last time. He licks at the inside of his own open mouth then tries to speak again. Nothing comes out, so he holds his arms out towards Kuroo. ”Please,” he says, desperate like being polite would ground him again, pull him back to some semblance of humanity.
Kuroo’s heart aches and he’s leaning forward to pull Bokuto into his arms before he even realizes it. He’s shaking, pliant and strange and weak in the embrace. It’s so unlike the Bokuto Kuroo had come to love from the moment he saw him drink a whole bottle of soysauce like it was a monster energy drink in their first year. That Bokuto would always hug Kuroo with all his heart without fail, whether that meant squeezing the living daylights out of him or running his arms over every inch of skin, pressing kisses and holding fabric and squishing arms.
This Bokuto doesn’t respond for a few minutes, just sits there and spasms occasionally, soaking Kuroo’s shirt (Bokuto’s, originally, because they share everything by now) with tears. This Bokuto raises and arm and weakly hooks his fingers around the hem of Kuroo’s sleeve.
“Tetsu,” he all but breathes, voice tinny and weak, “nothing feels real. I don’t know who I am. Saying ‘I’ feels so wrong. I’m scared. I’m sorry.”
But this is still Bokuto.
Even like this he is Bokuto.
Kuroo loves him, he always has.
As the star of nationals, as the guy who knows every tawny owl’s name at the local zoo, as the person laying shivering in Kuroo’s arms.
So he tells him so.
“You’re right here,” he whispers into Bokuto’s hair, slowly smoothing a hand over his back. “You’re my sweet, sweet, Bokuto Koutarou, and you’re in my arms right now.”
Bokuto sniffles, and more tears come out. “That sounds wrong. That doesn’t sound right.”
He shuffles so he can be closer to Kuroo, but his hands subtly push him away. Kuroo isn’t sure what to make of the action so he makes the decision to keep holding him close, and to move his hand to the top of Bokuto’s head, scratching it softly like he knows Bokuto likes.
“It’s true,” Kuroo mumbles this time, keeping his voice as clear as he can, hoping he’s taking the right steps. “You’re Bokuto Koutarou, the greatest ace I’ve ever met, the champion of Yakiniku, Fukuroudani’s sweetheart, Akaashi’s best friend, my beautiful, wonderful boyfriend.”
Bokuto looks up at him then, one leg seemingly getting a life of its own as it kicks at the nearby pillows. Still his body is noticeably less tense, and his eyes are clearer. He still doesn’t look Kuroo directly in the eye but that’s okay, because when he whispers “Really?” and Kuroo kisses his forehead, he relaxes a bit more into the hug.
“Really. I love you.”
Bokuto only nods, weak and overexerted in only twenty or so minutes. Kuroo continues to reassure him for a long time after. It takes a long, long, time before Bokuto’s body starts to let him take control, longer before his eyes clear. Sometimes kuroo makes Bokuto feel worse, but most times just Kuroo’s voice and embrace seems to pull Bokuto back together.
Eventually it all adds up, and Bokuto slowly nods off to sleep against Kuroo’s chest. They lay there for a long time, on the carpeted floor surrounded by clean clothes and pillows, with Kuroo dutifully supporting the Bokuto curled against him.
It’s safe, it’s calm, Kuroo can breathe easy again and the same goes for Akaashi, who gets a text soon after.
When Bokuto wakes up he’ll apologize again. He’ll fuss and worry, tell Kuroo that one day these episodes might be bad enough for him to lash out, one say he’ll hurt Kuroo for good. Kuroo would only smile and tell him they’ll figure it out, that nothing could stop him from loving his owl bastard.
Tonight however, is silent, and Bokuto’s heart is soothed, beating in time with Kuroo’s.