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Koutarou always knew this day would come. It always does.
This time, he finds the bra first. It’s pretty, a lilac base with lavender lace detailing. She has taste, Koutarou knows that much as he finds the matching underwear outside Kuroo’s office door. The two are surprisingly quiet for the boyfriend not being home (at least, as far as they’re aware). All Koutarou can hear is breathy panting, a few moans of Kuroo’s name and the woman’s name, some grunting and slurping. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s happening behind that door. Koutarou sighs and heads for the bedroom, grabbing the backpack tucked away behind a tote of old clothes in the closet, the tote Kuroo never bothered to go through. He grabs his chargers and laptop, and leaves just as quietly as he arrived.
The tears are nothing new. There’s nothing that can be done to stop them. It’s not like he isn’t used to driving with blurry vision. Chaos takes over his conscious focus and he has to pray his autopilot is good enough to keep him from wrecking the car before he reaches wherever he’s trying to go. It’s a raffle on where he’ll end up, the risks involved and bad choices he’ll make. If he’s unlucky, he’ll end up at a bar or in a whole other district. If he's lucky, he’ll end up at a friend’s place with a warm spot to sleep before finding some cheap, shady hotel.
For better or worse, the Universe has spared him some luck. When he’s brought back to the real world, Koutarou finds himself face-to-face with arguably the worst teammate he could’ve ended up with. The Universe has never been too generous to him, and there’s no reason for it to start now. Every spin of luck comes with a price.
“Koutarou? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Sakusa’s beloved hair is a mess. His eyes are rubbed red and there’s a bit of drool crusted on the corner of his lips. Koutarou can’t help but find it a bit cute even at such an odd time. Although, he supposes any positive thoughts are welcomed into the onslaught of pain and numbness. Kuroo did always say he managed to find the good things even in his lowest points.
Koutarou feels his throat vibrate as his eyes start to sting.
A freezing hand grabs his arm and pulls him into the warm apartment. He hates that the hand burns as his brain screams expectations Koutarou can’t bear to meet. Failed expectations that always ended him in the same predicament. It’s a curse, really. A cruel joke from the Universe to make something as broken as Bokuto Koutarou. He’s not sure what he’s done to deserve it. He’s not sure what he hasn’t done, either. Both lists are fairly long in their own right.
“Koutarou, hey. You’re okay. You’re safe with me.” Sakusa’s voice breaks through the haze. “Jesus, you’re like an ice block. Let’s get you into something warm.”
Oh, yeah. It’s the middle of January. And he’s not exactly dressed for the snow. Athletic joggers and a long-sleeve muscle shirt aren’t the preferred wardrobe choices for times like these. Is he even wearing shoes? Probably, but he doubts they match. They’re probably back in the genkan, the thought passing as he’s lead into the master bedroom.
“Think you can handle a shower?”
Baring his skin to the world after a day like this has Koutarou blanching and shuddering.
“Alright, that’s fine. We can just bundle you up for now.” Sakusa sits him down and goes to his closet. “Does Kuroo know you’re here?”
Kuroo… A proper sob finally wracks Koutarou’s body.
Tetsu’s kinda busy, right now. I didn’t wanna interrupt.
Dramatic, but true. Not that he can manage any coherent words as he curls up and cracks apart on his teammate and friend’s enormous bed.
Sakusa hurries over, saying, “No, no, no. It’s alright. He doesn’t have to know. I won’t say anything.”
The gentle awkwardness is a distant shock to Koutarou’s brain. While they’d been getting closer, Sakusa had never been quite so… blatant with his concern.
Cold arms wrap around him as the bed dips beside him. Sakusa does some sort of shuffling that gets Koutarou to half-lay on top of him, wrapped up in a blanket with Koutarou’s face buried in Sakusa’s neck. All Koutarou can do is sob, no matter how much he tries to explain and apologize for being such a disaster. Sakusa simply shushes him and assures that they can talk later; all that matters right now is breathing and calming down.
God knows how much time goes by before Koutarou wears himself out. It certainly feels like decades before he’s laid down with his head in Sakusa’s lap. With the help of text-to-speech, Koutarou got the very basics of the situation communicated. He can tell Sakusa is pissed, enraged even. But, he keeps it together for Koutarou’s sake; and Koutarou is unbelievably grateful.
They worm him out of his shirt and shorts, and into a thick hoodie that hits his lower thighs. They attempt sweatpants, but Koutarou is simply too exhausted to move enough to get them on. Instead, they tuck a heated blanket around his lower half. Eventually, he passes out with tears still dripping from the bridge of his nose and down his temple into his hair.
❆ ❆ ❆ ❆
Enraged doesn’t even begin to describe the storm brewing in Kiyoomi’s mind.
This isn’t the first time he’s watched his friend fall to pieces over a situation like this. It couldn’t have possibly been any less than the hundredth time that Kuroo Tetsurou would’ve seen it in all the years of those two being best friends, then boyfriends. The bastard knew what he was signing up for, what he was walking into. He was one of the first to know about Bokuto’s situation, according to the stories Bokuto has told Kiyoomi. To think Kuroo would still do something so malicious and cruel like this–
Kiyoomi takes a deep breath.
He stretches to the side to grab his phone off his nightstand. It took a little over an hour to get Bokuto to sleep; which would be a surprise if it wasn’t 2:30 in the morning. He’s never been much of a night owl.
It takes a bit of debating, but Kiyoomi opens his contacts and scrolls to his first life line.
Ring… Ring… Ring… Rin–
“Who died.”
“Kuroo is going to die if I have any say in the matter.”
Tsukishima stays quiet long enough that Kiyoomi pulls the phone away to make sure he hasn’t hung up. Seeing as he hasn’t, Kiyoomi is ready to assume the man managed to fall right back asleep.
Thankfully, Tsukishima grunts and moves around on the other end of the line. Finally, he says, “Please don’t tell me it’s what I think it is.” The flimsy hope and exhausted disappointment is more clear in the interim between first waking up and consciously putting up his emotional barriers.
“Unfortunately, I’m sure it’s exactly what you think it is.”
“Is he…” Tsukishima sighs. “How’s he doing?”
Kiyoomi looks down at the man in his lap. He’s snoring quietly and drooling a bit. His brow is furrowed and he’s shuffling around in his sleep. Little whimpers slip out. Kiyoomi does his best to soothe them with a gentle hand in his limp hair.
“He cried himself to sleep about an hour after he got to my place. Not sure that’s the good sign I’d like it to be. I’m honestly scared of how dark his mind is going to be when he wakes up.”
“Yeah…”
Silence hangs in the light static of the call.
“Do you need me to come over?”
Kiyoomi hums. “Probably in the morning. I’m going to have to call him in sick tomorrow, which means I need to do damage control with the team. I’ll need someone to field the scum when he inevitably comes hunting.”
Not to mention the hurricane it would be for Bokuto to wake up alone after a disaster like this.
“Sure. Just call me when you have to get ready. I’ll be over as soon as possible. I’m just outside Osaka, anyways.”
“Just make sure to not tell Hinata any details yet. That’s a mess we don’t have time for right now.”
“Of course.”
Kiyoomi sighs. He contemplates for a moment before he asks, “How do I handle this, Tsukishima? I’m not sure I’m exactly equipped for something like this.”
“You set aside your own feelings,” he says bluntly. “I haven’t met anyone aside from Hinata and maybe Atsumu that can feel anywhere near as intensely as Bokuto does. It’s going to require a lot of effort to keep him from exploding; getting emotional will only make things worse. He’s going to shatter. The goal is to keep those pieces as big as possible. Then, it’ll be easier to help him piece himself back together again when he’s ready.”
Set aside the protective instinct. Intentions like yours will be too much for such a fragile state.
Kiyoomi hates how he can read so cleanly between the lines. Bokuto will be far too vulnerable to make any sort of romantic feeling clear, even unintentionally. Him clinging to a lifeline like that is going to harm them both.
“What if… What if he’s never ready?”
Once again, he’s met with silence. It lasts far too long for Kiyoomi to like the unspoken answer.
“Goodnight, Sakusa. Call me when you wake up.”
The dial tone clicks and Kiyoomi is left with the congested snores of heartbreak in his lap.