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His excitement; a tsunami waiting to curl, white horses stamping feet in the starting boxes, waiting for the gun. Every time he let himself dwell upon it, he couldn’t help himself! An unreserved grin flashed, his chest tightened like his lungs were anticipating the yells of delight and the feeling of being squeezed in somebody’s arms.
How long had it been since he last felt somebody’s arms around him? It was getting better now, but that time, not so long ago, haunted his mind still. For a long time the only arms he had been held by were his own, trying to hold himself together. It had hurt. So much he couldn’t breathe and his heart had collapsed in on itself, creating a hollowness inside his chest that he couldn’t fill, no matter how many tears he cried. Only at night, of course. During the day it was all smiles. The sound of his parents’ voices was the only thing that could force saltwater whilst the sun still shone. He missed them, and how they had once held his. And there they were, so close, their laughs ringing in his ears, yet over how many miles and miles of telephone wire and underwater cable? Then water would crush his lungs, and he would gasp. No, no, no.
Then night would fall, and he would fall apart. He’d feel better in the morning if he let it all out now, that’s what he told himself. But caught in the grip of his darkest fears, blood-black demons that swam even though he tried to drown them in his tears. He couldn’t burn them either; they liked the flames. But the flames engulfed his. Breathing was suddenly impossible, love was an empty dream he once believed in, long ago. How could anyone love his? Headphones stuck in and turned up as loud as he could without disturbing anyone - nobody could ever see him like this - he let the song echo through his bones and engulf his soul. That song always let his cry for longer. He wanted to cry for longer. He wanted to get it out. He wanted to wake up in the morning and never feel like this again, but now it was the night and he was never so grateful; the darkness swallowed his silent screams and let his writhe in agony within the blackness, one moment hunched and scrunched, muscles tenser than a tiger’s, trembling at the effort of keeping his curled in a foetal position, the next shaking as screams of hurt tore his body. Did they miss him like he missed them? This drowning feeling, like the current had caught him and wouldn’t let his go, until his struggling ceased and he let himself sink. Homesick, he spat. What a pathetic word. He’d looked it up before - a longing for one’s home during a period of absence from it - and his lip had curled. Was that what this was? Just homesickness? A slight nostalgia?
The walls closed in and blocked off his air supply but he gasped desperately. The window was locked but through it he could see the moon. His head hurt. It was neverending, and a dark part of his that terrified his took over for a moment. Caught in the exhausting whirlwind that tore at all the pieces of his that he was proud of, ripping them into shreds and throwing them to the shrieking gale, he was struck by the scariest thought he had ever had. So terrifying the fear stayed his tears and unknotted his chest, so he could take in a calm, numbing breath. Because in that dark, dark room, he understood why people cut. Oh my God. Oh God, he sobbed again, hands pressed against his cheeks, eyes wide and staring. Please God don’t let me understand. I don’t want to. He dissolved again, the numbing horror pulled away like blankets on a freezing morning. Morning, just last until then. His hands flew to tear at his hair and the sheets, his eyes stinging. Bolt upright suddenly, he ripped the earphones from his ears, gripped the covers so tightly his knuckles went white, and peered into the dark. Was that somebody? Had somebody heard? Emotions tumbled like Niagara through his mind, fear, hurt, loneliness, embarrassment, and maybe a little longing too? He realised, abruptly, that he actually wanted nothing more than for somebody to walk through that door, take his in their arms, and love all that pain away. They would mumble sweet nothings into his hair as his tears soaked their shirt. His knurled fingers would release the sheets and clutch at them, begging them not to go, not to leave, not to leave his alone, not to give his back to the night. And they would stay, and he would probably fall asleep in their arms. Maybe he’d regret it in the morning, whether he woke and they were there or not. Or maybe, just maybe, he could finally believe again, in that long ago dream.
Jerking awake, his eyes flickered wildly around the car. Of course, he’d fallen asleep. A deep sigh followed by a chuckle; he didn’t know how he had fallen asleep when he was this excited, God, he couldn’t wait! The blurred lights left behind as they sped down the motorway made his vision spin brightly. One set of lights flashed to the beat of his music and he smiled, no, he grinned. Intoxicated, drunk on the anticipation. They were childhood friends and loved each other, right? It was a mutual thing? He would have thought that with nearly anyone else, but it was him, so there was no doubt. He wouldn’t allow himself to be doubtful. When they were together they always moved as one, thought as one, laughed as one; he could be himself, no secrets and no judgment. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he was so ecstatic; he wanted the tsunami to crash into crazy happiness, craved it like chocolate, for their friendship to make his feel utterly content again and for each other’s presence to fill the afternoons with warmth, never alone and always smiling.
He hated being alone, and Iwaizumi knew it.