Chapter Text
It all goes wrong the day after Suga leaves for university.
It's 3:15 in the morning, and they sit on their bed, instruments discarded on the floor. It's way too late, but they promised themselves and Suga and also their music teacher that they'd practice at least once a day. It's a little too late for someone who has work in the morning, but they could care less about that right now. Suga had left earlier that night, or yesterday, leaving them without someone to call in the night.
Well, they could call Suga. They could. He told them it was okay and that they'd speak every night, as usual. But it was his first day. How could they tether him down like that? He should be roaming the campus and bonding with people over shared hobbies like volleyball or the kazoo that he keeps in his bag. That's what he should be doing. Not sitting in his room on the phone with the supposed nuisance he met a year ago.
They sigh and look down at the pile of instruments at the foot of their bed. The saxophone, they tried that first; it sounded too airy. Then the bass guitar (it was too heavy for 2 AM) and the ukulele. They found some success with the latter but soon realized they were playing Suga's favourite song and shut that down.
Missing him came as a shock. Not that they didn't enjoy having him around, but it didn't quite sink in before then that he would be leaving. He'd be gone. Off to university with all the other people his age and with goals they could only dream of having. So, when he stopped by their front door, glassy-eyed and full of dreams, they didn't know how to react. That was it. He was leaving. Even now, it still feels like he's going to send them a stupid cat video in hopes that they'll find it amusing too.
No, he still will. Their phone screen will tell them it's approaching 4 AM, so of course, he'll send some. He's just asleep. They should be asleep.
"I'll text you every day, okay? You take care of yourself. Go to sleep early and--"
"Suga, I know."
"Okay. Okay. Well, then. Keep me updated on that piece you're working on, okay? Don't forget to re--"
"Relax my shoulders and my pinkies. I know. Thank you."
"Yes, of course, then. I'll see you at break."
"You will."
Maybe staying up late one day isn't the worst thing. It's the day after; they have a good reason this time. They sit staring at the musical mess for another half hour before picking up the ukulele. It goes into the case on their bed and then back on the floor. The saxophone and the guitar follow the same process; they'll get moved another day. Them being in the way only makes for more practice.
They shuffle backwards until they're met with the headboard and slide under the covers. It's warm. The pillow feels uncomfortably flat under their head, but it's fine; they can fix that another day as well. In an effort to get comfortable, they kick their phone off the bed and onto the saxophone case. That can be dealt with in two hours. Right now, sleep is a priority.
+
Sugawara rings them half an hour after their alarm is supposed to go off. Their head flies from the mattress and scans the room, eyes not yet focused. The ringing persists from the foot of their bed, and that's when they remember that they have work today. There's a panicked shuffling on their end when they finally answer.
"[___], good morning! How are you at this fine 6 AM?"
"Suga." They let themselves relax after hearing his voice. It's soothing. Always so soothing, and he doesn't even realize it.
He tells them about his first night in his dorm and how his roommate seems really cool, even though he spilled a jar of jam down his shirt. They listen as they tug on their uniform and wonder why he had a jar of jam out at night.
"But I miss it back home, you know. The people here seem to have their shit together."
They frown, and their focus changes from their keys to his voice. "You say that as if you don't."
"Oh, you know what I mean."
"It's your first day, Suga. You'll be fine."
It goes silent then, and they start to wonder if this is the beginning of the end. Maybe they shouldn't have said anything. He's always been better at reassurance between the two. They would know.
"Sorry. You've got work right? I'll let you get back to that!"
They don't have the heart to tell him that it's okay and that they were going to be late anyway. Not even when he makes them promise to grab something for lunch. It hadn't crossed their mind that they skipped breakfast. They make a mental note to use their lunch break properly because they can't let him down this soon.
+
They've never been too good at keeping promises. It's not intentional, but they've come to know more empty promises than fulfilled ones. Promises to sleep early, to take breaks. Promises to fucking eat because apparently, they can't do that either.
Sheet music stares back at them as they sit languidly, saxophone hanging from their neck. Auditions for their city's band start in two weeks, and they can't afford to mess it up. Not if they want to feel successful. Not if they want to make Suga proud. Notes and runs taunt them each second they dare to peak at them. Each second, each minute, each time they mess them up. It's been two hours since they started, and they break from their daze to find that their phone screen is lighting up.
Suga: Asahi has more jam
Suga: Send help
Suga: He says he's making sandwiches
Suga: Idk why now
Suga: Are you seeing this?
Suga: *image attached*
They forget about the chaos in front of them to stare at the photo Suga's sent. His roommate, Asahi, has his hair pulled back into a bun and is scooping jam onto slices of bread.
Suga: *video attached*
"Asahi, what are you doing?"
Deciding that they've practiced enough for the day, they pause the video to put their instrument away and situate themselves on their bed.
"Can't a guy make sandwiches in peace?"
"Why are you making them in the middle of the night?"
"Listen-- oh my God!"
"Asa- Asahi! Stop wasting jam!"
Between his laughter and the shakiness of the video, they find it difficult to pinpoint what Suga was trying to show them. They can only assume there's been some more jam spilled.
You: im starting to think you should revoke his jam privileges
Suga: I agree. He's gone through too much for it to be healthy
You: at least you can say this has been a bonding experience
He doesn't respond, and they pretend he's dealing with a jam situation. He could be. It's not like it bothers them too much. He's always been hard to hold onto; he's popular with people and all that. They're not going to cry about this, though. This is something they're used to; this is something they can deal with.
After periodically checking their message log for any sign that Suga's going to start typing, they drop their phone on their nightstand and stare at the ceiling. It's all going to be okay. They'll call him tomorrow after work, and everything will be okay.
+
No matter how much they will it to be true, they soon learn that the universe has other plans. It's been a month. One whole month. It's been one of the hardest months of their life. Every day they would open their eyes to a blank ceiling and begrudgingly drag themselves to work. From there, they would sell books with a smile and work right through their lunch break. That, or they studied the runs over and over until they could see them in their dreams.
It got worse when school had started back up. Their boss understood they were only available for summer break, so that was something, but they were alone. They had no friends aside from Suga, who was gone. So they did their schoolwork during lunch, hoping no one would bother them.
Going home after that didn't feel very relaxing because the runs, of course, the runs, had to be executed flawlessly. Whether that involved playing for one hour or three, it had to happen. They tried to call Suga too. Right after finishing one successfully or maybe even halfway through. Just to take a break, to hear his voice.
But he was busy. All that month. He had something to study for, or he was out with Asahi. Or something else that was more important than them. They started to believe then that it was the end. They thought that was an okay time to cry. Let themselves feel something other than-
They hadn't eaten. When was the last time they had a proper meal? They look down at their attire and notice that their shirt is fitting looser than before. Now they really can't handle it anymore. They couldn't even keep their promise for longer than what? A week?
It's then that they realize the date. It's been one month since Suga left. Two weeks since their audition. The audition they didn't go to. And shit, that's an opportunity gone. They're really holding out for a call or a text, or anything from Suga now because everything has fallen apart.
But nothing comes.
That's when their dam breaks, and raw sobs fill the room, cursing what was and what should've been. They only know empty promises.
+
"Hey." Suga's voice soothing, ever-so soothing, fills their body with warmth.
They've moved on from their little thing earlier, self-preservation kicking in and realizing that they need to calm down. Suga, thankfully, can't see them, but they're sure their voice will give it away. Give something away. They haven't spoken properly in days. There's no one to talk to. No one cares.
"[___], hello?"
They don't know what to say. "Hi, how's life?" "I really miss you." "I need you back." They're not like that. They wish they were, all the time, all the damn time. Maybe Suga would hate them less. Or like them more. Something, something, a tiny piece of anything that would make them important to him.
"I'm sorry I haven't been talking much. The assessments here are insane."
And life without him is as well.
It's nothing to compare. They know he's trying his best. They want to say the same. They really do.
"How was your audition?"
They shake their head and laugh wetly. It's chilling how it comes out. Broken and raw, a laugh Suga wished he would never hear again.
"Come on, what happened?"
"The audition. Never happened."
"It what?"
"I missed it. I didn't do it."
Suga inhales sharply, and they only close their eyes. It's too much.
"I'm so sorry."
There's so much they want to say. How it's not his fault, how they're sorry they've made their first call in ages about them, how it's always about them. They don't say anything. Instead, they look past their curtains at the moon. Even it looks dull tonight; maybe that's why. Something about the tides and- Suga is talking again.
"If there's anything I can do, just let me know. I'm always here for you. Call me anytime, okay? Even at 5 AM, I'll pick up."
If only he was. If only he would.
+
The next week it's 5 AM, and Suga hasn't picked up. They went from clutching their chest in their bedroom to clutching it in the kitchen. The moon looks beautiful tonight, decorating the room with a white glow. The white of the moon matches the white of their knuckles, hands clenched together like something is being taken from them. They can't open them. If they open them, they might do something they regret.
There's a pill bottle in there. And a glass of water on the counter. And Suga won't pick up.
Nobody is around them. Nobody is ever around them. But this time, just this once, they need somebody. Somebody to stop them. To tell them they've got a life worth living. Just anyone who could possibly care because they get like this sometimes, and just a few times, it gets extra bad. Only sometimes.
The universe picks and chooses its times to help. The bottle drops from their hands as their phone screen lights up. It's not Suga. That's okay. This is a new chance. The universe has sent someone to do something good. They don't recognize the number, but that could be okay too.
Heart still beating faster than it should be, they slide to answer. It might be okay.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end is a lot less soothing than Suga's, but it's a welcome distraction from the bottle on the floor. They move the glass into the sink. "Hi. Sorry for calling this late. Is this [___]?"
"Uhm. Yes."
"See, Kenma, I told you he wouldn't do us wrong! Oops, sorry." That was a different voice.
"Sorry again. He thinks he's cool. I'm Kenma. Kuroo is having a- what?"
There's a pause and a set of insults exchanged before someone speaks again. They'd be lying if they said they weren't amused.
"Hi, [___], I'm Kuroo, and I'm having a gathering of sorts. I heard you can play some instruments."
Another pause. This time they're frozen in shock and confusion. Who are these two, and why do they know this much about them? "Kenma says that was creepy. Sugawara gave us your number a while back." Oh.
"I was wondering if you'd be down for playing for it? Not the whole time, but just at the beginning or something. Like a jam session. I need someone to play with. Please- Kuroo, you sound desperate."
Even if Suga was falling through their fingertips, if he trusted these two, surely they could as well.
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Do we need to practice or um--"
"Oh! I will text you everything. Don't even worry!"
He - Kuroo, hangs up after that, and they aren't quite sure how to process what just happened. The universe sent them a chance in the form of two teenage boys. One an excitable bassist and the other, his quiet and supportive best friend.
+
The text comes in the morning.
Sure, they agreed last night, but they were functioning on nothing. Now it's starting to seem more daunting. They wish they could call Suga and let him know that they almost died or that they might be playing their bass with some cool new people. He didn't answer, though, so they're starting to lose hope.
Kuroo: So basically we're having some friends over
Kuroo: And I thought it would be cool to play some bass for them
Kuroo: But I also don't want to play alone
Kuroo: And then Kenma (thank god) remembered that Sugawara knew a sick bassist
Kuroo: So we heckled him for your number and here we are
Kuroo: Wait yesterday I said we've had it for a while
Kuroo: Anyway.
Kuroo: If it's okay with you, we could meet at yours and go from there?
They quickly learn that Kuroo texts exactly how he speaks. Unravelling from their sheets, they slide out of bed and onto their feet. Their vision goes dark for a couple of seconds before they can take a step. A step towards their bedroom door and to the kitchen. They need to eat. Over two pieces of toast and a sad glass of water, not from the sink, they text Kuroo back.
You: yeah i'm free anytime after 3:30
You: or all day on the weekends
They're locking their door when the messages come in.
Suga: So sorry I missed your call last night! I'll call you back when I get the chance!! Hope you're okay :)
Kuroo: Perfect! We'll stop by on Saturday :)
While they both ended with a smile, one brought more comfort. The universe gave them a chance, and they're not letting it go to waste.