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He knew from the moment he opened his eyes what kind of day it was going to be.
What type of energy he’d need to spend to avoid a breakdown that he didn’t have available.
The familiar feeling of dread settled deep in his chest as he struggled to peel himself from the mattress.
That’s right, the brain of Nekoma could barely pry himself from his bed. He was a joke.
Kozume Kenma was a weak man, a dying soldier against the war that was his own mind. It was embarrassing and each morning he questioned whether or not it was worth it to fight a losing battle.
He scraped by barely most days but today he could feel the anxiety threatening to spill over the dam he so carefully constructed.
The dam that was built so he wouldn’t disappoint Kuroo anymore.
Kuroo who would drop anything to help him. Some mornings he’d help him get dressed, he’d help him clean fresh wounds when his panic became bloody, he’d even climb through his window at two in the morning on a school night to play video games when Kenma couldn’t avoid the nightmares.
Other nights they’d cuddle and Kuroo would thread his fingers through dyed blond hair. During outings Kuroo would steer him away from things that posed a danger to his safety.
He’d help him wash his hair when he lacked the energy. He charged his handheld and his phone so he wouldn’t go without something for his hands when he forgot.
Helped brush his hair and helped make his bed.
He helped him remember to eat or to sleep.
Helped Kenma so much, Kenma forgot how to live without him.
He made him live .
And every time he had one of these days it was like spitting in his face.
Kenma loved him, he loved him so much it hurt sometimes. So if it meant being quiet about how his mind was some days then he would have to handle it.
For Kuroo.
With a groan he stood up and trudged over to his closet.
It was going to be a long day.
Oh god, was it a long day.
First it started when Kuroo came to pick him up for school.
Kuroo seemed more stressed than usual, quieter. It just set off Kenma’s anxiety more even when he tried to shove the feelings away and stop being selfish.
Kuroo was upset, why couldn’t he be a good boyfriend and help instead of getting worried it was because of him?
Why was he so fucking selfish?
He felt terrible about it even after Kuroo threaded their fingers together with a small smile and pulled him out of the way of a lamppost.
Then morning practice began and the coach announced they had a practice match after school. He hadn’t realized it was today. Fuck.
The team practiced hard, enthusiasm high but all Kenma could feel was the dread from before start spreading to his limbs like a suffocating fire.
The sweat fell down his skin in streaks of liquid lava, urging him to give in and scratch and tear at his skin until the feeling of panic subsided.
Until he wasn’t suffocated in his own head and his lungs would inflate with much needed oxygen and optimism.
He needed out, wanted to shed his skin and stuff it into a locker just so he could breathe.
He was close to begging Kuroo to just let him go home, close to cracking and making another day all about him and his issues.
But thankfully the coach called for them to wrap it up for classes and Kenma fought the urge to drop to his knees and thank the Lord.
He wasn’t even a religious guy but damn it he was tired.
Kuroo just gave him a questioning look when he practically ran to the locker room.
He’d assure him he was fine later, but for now all he needed was a break.
A break didn’t come.
Classes felt extra difficult and intense, drowning him in their workload well past lunch and all the way until the final bell rang.
His bag was still heavy with homework when he trudged his way back to the gym.
The practice match was against Fukurodani which was good because seeing Bokuto would lift Kuroo’s spirits.
They’d tease and taunt and one team would steal a win. It was a push and pull that was familiar.
The other team was already there, stretching for the game. Upon his arrival he heard a loud voice screech his name and watched Akaashi wave slightly from where he was helping Bokuto stretch.
He waved to the both of them, not wanting to deal with upsetting either of them and slinked away to the locker room with a tight frown.
There most of the team was, getting rid of school uniforms and changing into team uniforms. Kuroo himself was already changed and seemed in lighter spirits as expected.
He walked past Kenma to leave the room, stopping to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head before yelling for Bokuto.
The rest of the team didn’t bat an eye as Kenma’s face flushed, continuing to get dressed.
They all seemed excited about the upcoming game and Kenma tried to feel the same but the only thing he felt was the staggering amount of pressure in his chest and the ache in his limbs.
He threw on his volleyball uniform and left the room with the team in tow, head down and hair clouding his view.
The competition began and he could feel the tension in the air before the game even officially started.
If he was going to have to play this game he was going to try his best to help his team win.
It was going terribly and it was all his fault. He was normally on point with his sets, analytical to a fault but today he was fumbling every set and it didn’t matter what he deduced because nothing ever went up into the air right.
He could feel the eyes on him, adding to the crushing weight of the panic building against the dam wall.
He could hear the whispers of the coaches and managers that added to the symphony of thoughts that haunted his mind.
He could see the concern on his friends' faces every time he fucked up another set.
He could taste the blood on his tongue from biting his lip too hard.
And he could touch the ball that never seemed to respond the way he wanted it to.
All five senses working and he’s still fucked beyond saving.
It was too much. He could feel the cracks in the Dam grow larger until he failed to catch the ball at all and it dropped to the floor along with him.
He fell to his ass, knees pulled to his chest and drowning out the sad bouncing of the ball beside him.
He couldn’t do it anymore. Everything faded to the background as he shook in his spot, hands itching and aching for something. For anything.
Tears threatened to spill as he let his hands slide up to his neck and chest and finally scratch. Scratch and peel and tear. It hurt but it felt like he was getting rid of the feeling of not being able to breathe.
Like each mark to his pale skin was opening his lungs up for air after an entire day of being deprived.
Like he was ridding himself of the burn in his fingers that was begging for something to occupy them.
He didn’t even stop even as he ripped open an old scab and had blood dripping down his skin and nails.
He felt the tears finally spill as he shook on the floor, hot tracks marking his failure ran down his cheeks.
Surely Kuroo would be mad.
He was making them lose the game. Making everything about himself as usual.
Maybe they’d kick him off the team. The thought almost made him laugh, panic and exhaustion fading into hysteria.
Off the team? Yeah maybe. When pigs fly. He couldn’t leave the team if he wanted to, Kuroo would have him back on in a week.
He shook harder, trying to ground himself when he felt arms wrap around him.
They were strong and familiar and the smell of Kuroo flooded his nose.
Allowing that to be his anchor he slowly pulled himself out of his head.
He melted into the touch, trying to calm his rapid breathing. He could feel Kuroo counting out a beat against his ribs and tried to follow it, succeeding after a few minutes of trying and the noise came flooding back.
“-enma?” Kuroo was still holding him, rocking them back and forth on the gym floor. The others around them were whispering and staring and Kenma wanted to cover his ears.
He wanted to hide in Kuroo’s arms away from their prying eyes.
They probably thought he was weak. That he was a terrible person and they hated him for ruining the game.
The feeling from before came swelling up in his chest like bile and he made a move to scratch again only for Kuroo to catch his wrists and shoot him a look.
“Kuro. Make it stop.” His voice came out watery and broken, burying his face into Kuroo’s chest as he bit back a sob.
“I’m sorry, I would if I could. I’ll take you home soon I promise. Yaku is just grabbing our stuff.” Kuroo soothed softly, running his hands up and down Kenma’s sides.
“What about the game?” He whispered against a rapidly soaking shirt.
“Coach canceled it. And no, no one is mad at you. The other coach understood and they rescheduled. It’s all good.” Kuroo explained as Yaku ran back into the room with two different bags on his shoulders.
“All good to go. Feel better Kenma.” Yaku said breathlessly as he handed Kuroo the bags.
Kenma mumbled his thanks, fiddling with the fabric of Kuroo’s jersey in his fingers.
“Can you stand?” Kuroo asked after a moment, releasing Kenma from his hold. He nodded, standing from the ground, albeit shakily.
He muttered apologies to his and the other team, avoiding looking anywhere but the floor as Kuroo wrapped a strong arm around his waist.
Bokuto yelled his goodbyes and Kenma heard Akaashi chastise him as he walked towards the door. Kuroo didn’t even launch into a conversation with bokuto, instead focusing fully on Kenma and getting him out the door.
They left the gym soon after, hearing Yamamoto say something along the lines of ‘I didn’t know he cared so much about volleyball’ before it was followed by a pained grunt. No doubt at the hands of Yaku.
Kenma didn’t envy him. Yaku was strong and mean.
They walked in silence for a bit until Kuroo turned to look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, voice colored with hurt.
“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” He muttered back.
“It’s okay if it’s a bad day, we’ll get through it together.” Kuroo promised, grip tightening around Kenma’s waist.
“Okay… but the same goes for you.”
“You got it sweetheart.”
He wrinkled his nose at the pet name much to Kuroo’s enjoyment and loud laughter filled the near empty streets as they walked home.
When they got home they changed into more comfortable clothes, put bandaids on Kenma’s marks and climbed into bed, tangling their limbs together and just basking in the others’ company.
Hours passed of them lying side by side quietly, lazily kissing occasionally and other times tracing odd shapes against bare skin.
“I’m so in love with you it hurts.” Kenma admitted as he pressed his palm flat against Kuroo’s chest, feeling his heartbeat pulse against his fingers.
“I love you too. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” Kuroo answered, covering Kenma’s hand with his own.
Kuroo was the concrete that held his dam together, the glue to his soul and the bandaids for his wounds.
He didn’t make him live, he made him alive .
Bad days and all. Leaning up a little, he pressed a soft kiss to Kuroo’s lips.
“Sounds good to me.”