Archive of Our Own ^beta

The house is quiet. Yū’s mother is stomping around in the kitchen, muttering in another language, as she bangs pots together in a flurry of righteous anger. Her actions are muted to Yū’s ears. His father is somewhere outside, most likely, smoking a cigar that would indefinitely cause health problems later on in the mans’ life. Though, to be honest, Yū doesn’t care that much anymore.   

It takes a lot of effort to care.

The rain outside was light, pitter-patting against Yū’s window and roof. He can hear his sister – Nishinoya Michiko – chatting on the phone in her room next to his, as if nothing there was nothing wrong in the Nishinoya household. His eldest brother, Nishinoya Kazuki, is pacing in his own bedroom, speaking on the phone with a frustrated tone. It makes Yū wonder if there was trouble in procuring the rent that month or if their landlord was being an asshole again.

The thought of their landlord is exhausting.

Words began to whisper inside of his mind at that moment, a quiet are you okay, Yū?   

Yū doesn’t respond to his soulmates’ thought, choosing, instead, to curl up into an even tighter ball underneath his bed. His shoulders ache, he’s pretty sure he sprained his ankle in his getaway to his room from earlier, but he can feel his fingers. He can feel the air stretching his lungs. His heart is beating strongly in his chest but he can’t help the incoming flood of terror that is corrosive to his mind. He can’t help the inexplicable sense of detachment, a sense of drowning, that overwhelms him.

It’s a monstrous tornado that whirls inside of his mind and his soul. It wreaks havoc. It destroys all shreds of peace and strength that Yū desperately clutches as a life line. He can feel himself submerge and drift in the sea, slowly drowning on intoxicating water that pulls at the edges of his mind, intent on dragging him into darker pits. Yū doesn’t dare think of what would happen if he were to go down further, drown a bit more, wallow a little longer.

He’s the Guardian Deity of Karasuno.

He’s the spitfire with the voice that’s too loud for his small stature.    

He’s the soulmate of the gentle Azumane Asahi.

Yū cannot afford a breakdown. He cannot afford getting sick again. All he can do is swallow pill after pill with the frozen smile on his face as he forces exuberance to shine in his orbs. He forces his lead limbs to move with energy that isn’t there anymore. He talks and communicates with a garbled, excited speech that no one except for Hinata could possibly decrypt. 

He is Nishinoya Yū.

(And he is tired, oh so tired, of pretending).

The next morning finds Yū and Asahi doing their stretches in the gym. Only he, his soulmate, and Shimizu are in the gym. Shimizu was setting up for morning practice, listening to music with her earbuds in to block out the hurricane that will become the Karasuno Volleyball team – or, rather, Tanaka Ryūnosuke.

Yū’s mind is distracted by things other than volleyball at the moment. Asahi’s hands are strong, warm, and steady against his skin as they stretch however, the callouses on his beloveds’ hands weren’t eliciting the normal reactions from the smaller male. There were no flirtatious smirks or fluttering eyes or exaggerated, almost flustered, speech. Not even the trickling stream of Asahi’s thoughts provided an adequate distraction.

His dreams the past night would be considered nightmares. It’d been a while since Yū had a good nights’ rest. He would’ve been kept up regardless, due to the impromptu brawl his parents’ had in the living room at three in the morning. His father wanted to buy more alcohol and his mother was bitching about it, which caused his father to get violent. Yū’s mother was no pushover, however, or a demure housewife and the woman had punched her husband in the jaw only a few seconds after she was hit. 

The physical brawl included eviscerating words and objects shattering against the floors and walls. Michiko ignored as usual, playing her classical music on speaker, but around four ten, Kazuki had stormed downstairs to end the fight. By then, Yū had crawled out of his bed and burrowed himself underneath it to try and suppress the pounding ache that spread in his chest. It wasn’t his soul – the pain would be more devastating – but it was a reminder of the boy he was, and the boy everyone thought him to be.

Yū sighs. He had a total of nine pills left before he had to go back to the doctors’ office for a refill request (which would turn into another psych evaluation – those were exhausting and left Yū feeling as if he was cut into tiny pieces and stitched back together all wrong). He had to take one pill a day, no more, no less. Too much would be considered an abuse of drugs and could also cause a risk of overdose.

Yū was many, many things.

He was a faker. He was exhausted. He was small. He was pretending that everything was alright in Yū Land but he would not, will never, ever put his kindhearted soulmate through the paralyzing agony of waking up one day with the other part of his soul diminished.

Besides, thinking of such things took too much energy. Energy he didn’t have anymore.

Whispers began to drift inside of his mind once more, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. Are you okay? You’re quiet. Too quiet. What’s wrong, Yū?

Nothing, Yū whispers back, uncertain if the thought would even transmit. I’m fine, Asahi. I’m just tired.

Tired.

He was always tired.

Practice, as usual, is a blur to Yū. He can feel worried stares burn a hole in the back of his head from his teammates, presumably concerned over his lack of enthusiasm that morning, but Yū knows they’ll write it off as not having enough sleep that night. He also knows that Asahi won’t push the matter – his soulmate disliked confrontations of any kind.

On the way to class, Yū walks in between Ryūnosuke and Asahi. His best friend is chattering about Shimizu but Asahi is quiet as they move through the thrumming crowds. The rush of people is beginning to give Yū a migraine with their jubilance and aura. He wished for the darkness underneath his bed, wished for the safety it brought, wished for the suffocating quiet of his house before a calamity, but he mostly wished to sleep.

Yū’s fourth class of the day, before lunch, is psychology. It’s the only class he’s mildly interested in, seeing as how he himself has to see a psychologist once a month. His teacher, Masuda-sensei, was a cheerful woman of thirty-eight. Her soulmate taught biology in one of the surrounding middle schools.

After the bell rang and the homework was collected, Masuda-sensei stands at her podium and calls for the classes’ attention. The subject is interesting so she doesn’t have to wait long for the class to settle.

“Today, we’re going to be learning about depression,” Masuda-sensei begins. An almost violent jolt disturbs Yū but he ruthlessly stamps down the reaction. Then he wilted against his desk – his energy levels were seriously decreasing by the minute. “Write down on a slip of paper what you think depression is. You have fifteen minutes.”

There’s a rustle amongst the class as they got out the materials. Yū stares down at his blank piece of paper, his thoughts whirling incomprehensively, as he tried to think of a way to describe the topic in an inconspicuous way. Yū sighs quietly, causing Ryūnosuke to give him a look of concern. Asahi’s stream of thoughts were a comfort as he scribbled down an answer that he hoped wouldn’t draw attention.

Depression was a complicated disease. There were days when one was fine, able to function in the world, until the next day when they’d inevitably crash. And crash down hard. It was a struggle, an internal war, a raging sea intent on seeing you drown. The days when you couldn’t function were the worst. It’s filled with days of darkness, days where you think the paralyzing agony would never cease, days where it’s a battle to get out of bed, days where you struggle with the simple act of doing something as simple as brushing ones teeth.

Depression was sadness. It was dysphoria. It was anxiety. It was terror. It was corrosive and intoxicating and a whirlwind that would leave you dazed and lost.

“Time is up,” Masuda-sensei says. “Please pass your papers up to the front of the room.”

Yū smothers the sigh that crawls up his throat and passes up the papers that head his way. He notices, belatedly, that Ryūnosuke is still giving him looks of concern. He flashes his best friend a grin that, hopefully, conveys the vibrancy Nishinoya Yū is rumored of but the teen doesn’t look convinced, and Yū turns back to Masuda with a stomach sinking underneath the ground.

Stop being ridiculous, Yū, he scolds himself. You’re fine. Everything is fine.

Masuda-sensei gives them a vibrant grin as she collects the papers and primly sets them on her desk. “Now,” she says, clearing her throat. “What do you know of MDD?”

She picks a random student from the line of desks and soon the class is immersed in an immaculate lecture. The woman understands what she’s talking about, using pop culture references, well-known events that deal with the topic, and personal experience from when she was working as a psychologist for teenagers.

The timid girl in front of him – Yū thinks her name is Okamoto Hanako or was that the girl in his second period? – raised her hand. Masuda-sensei calls on her with a welcoming smile. “Um…is it possible to hide these things from your soulmate?” she asks.

Masuda-sensei pursed her lips, pensive, before she says, “Well, it is possible to hide things from your soulmate of course. However, that is with thoughts only. Emotions never lie after all, but I do believe it’d be incredibly difficult in trying to maintain the visage of being okay in front of your other half.”

It brings on another spur of questions, and soon psychology ends with the shrill shriek of the bell. Ryūnosuke whoops with excitement. It’s lunch time.

“C’mon, Noya,” he grins, wild and passionate. Why can’t Yū be like that? “Time to get your boy-toy so we can eat.”

The snort escapes his mouth before he can help it, lips and eyes crinkling into a somewhat smile. As they walk towards the part of the school where they hold classes for the third years, Yū notices that his best friend is smug for making him smile. Although there is a burning ache in his chest, and an iron ball dragging him further and further into the relentless sea, Yū is grateful for the wonderful people surrounding him.

“Depression seems to be horrible,” Ryūnosuke comments as they begin ascending three flights of stairs to Asahi’s class.

“It sure is,” Yū whispers before he can filter himself.

Yū notices the unfathomable look his best friend gives him but Ryūnosuke replies, instead, “I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like.” 

I hope you never do, Yū thinks. He would never wish this internal warzone on anyone.

Like always, Yū is able to sense Asahi before seeing him. His soulmate is laughing with Daichi and Sugawara, looking so vibrant and lively that it makes Yū swallow a sob. He chokes on air instead, causing the teen beside him to give him another look. The ache inside of his chest is burning fiercely, spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes, making the limbs numb so that he wouldn’t be able to feel them tomorrow.

Yū ran his fingers through his hair. He really needed to get more of those godforsaken pills. Asahi leads Yū to a somewhat isolated tree in a curiously quiet courtyard. They both sit down and open their bento boxes, leaning on each other’s’ shoulders. Yū makes short work of peering around them, noticing that this particular area of the school grounds was unanimously voted to be “the spot” for whenever couples wished to spend a quiet lunch hour with their other half.

A flash of orange causes him to look to his left, and he blinks as he sees Hinata and Kageyama leaning against a tree. Hinata’s head was on Kageyama’s outstretched legs, and the setter looked to be lightly dozing with his fingers splayed in Hinata’s hair. The shorter male didn’t seem to mind the intimate touch and was idly reading a book.

Yū turns his attention away from the first year duo and onto his own soulmate, who was contently chewing on, what looked to be, shrimp tempura. Yū knows that Asahi knows something is wrong, unlike their teammates who may or may not have shrugged off his odd behavior. Asahi would never push, not unless he absolutely needed to, and his soulmate would know when it was time to ask, and when it was time to simply stay there beside Yū, silently letting him know that Asahi would still be there, always there, when those times would occur.

After devouring his bento, Yū is content to rest his head against Asahi’s side, burrowing against the warmth his soulmate emanated. Asahi didn’t speak but Yū could hear the whispers of so cute, my soul, other, Yū, adorable, must be so tired.

Tired.

(The word is haunting him).

Yū doesn’t remember a time in his life when he wasn’t tired.

Later that night, with a ringing noise circling in his ears, Yū is on his bed. Kazuki isn’t home, working at some corporation on the other side of town, and Michiko is downstairs with their parents. Their shouts and venomous words rise and fall through the house, and Yū blocks them by curling underneath his covers. It’s a lost battle. Going downstairs would only bring more ire and tension.

Despite popular consensus, Yū vehemently despised rushing into situations with guns blazing. He could understand why some prefer that route but it never appealed to Yū. All it’d give him, in the end, was the fierce ache of the hole and aches on his skin that should never belong.

Even though his hands are clasped over his ears, Yū is still able to hear the ricocheting sound of skin hitting skin. It’s coming from the kitchen but those sounds were normal in the Nishinoya household. No one in the neighborhood gave it a second thought. His neighbors were too bust getting high, drunk, or having sex to care.

Michiko stampedes to her room, her footsteps booming on the creaking floorboards, but before she closes her door, she screams, “You can hit me all you fucking want, but if you even consider laying one hand, one fucking hand, on Yū again, I will make your life hell!”

The slam of her door causes Yū to flinch.

His father calls Michiko a slut from the direction of the living room before he begins shouting at his mother about sake and vodka. Yū doesn’t pay attention to his mothers’ response except for the fact that it had commenced another brawl. As usual, Yū finds himself wondering why his parents were married, why their relationship was so venomous and unhealthy, and what their soulmates were like.

His parents’ had different soulmates, but they’d both had died before being able to meet. His father was twenty when his soulmate (“my little Aikko”) passed away from cancer, and his mother was seventeen when her soulmate (“Daiki was such a rebellious spitfire”) had vanished in a car crash. His father turned to alcohol and his mother turned to the workforce, dropping out of school due to the crushing weight of grief.

Sometimes Yū likes to kid himself, likes to think that his parents did love one another in some twisted way. It wasn’t the truth, the reality of their marriage. His parents had a one night stand, and the result was Kazuki being born. His grandparents forced his parents to marry so that there would be no backlash or cries of scandals sweeping into their small towns. When Michiko was born, his family moved to the Miyagi Prefecture and never left.

Whispers float as Yū finds himself immersing into a light slumber. Asahi was working out some mathematical equation mentally, the numbers somehow comforting to Yū as he drifted. Asahi was an amazing soulmate, so kind, gentle, and understanding. It always makes Yū wonder why the two of them were a perfect fit. Yū was nothing like Asahi; he lies, he fakes, he collects his secrets and wraps them up tightly so that no one, not even Asahi, would ever be able to glimpse at them.

And he’s tired.

He’s so tired.

The ache is beginning to increase in intensity as Asahi has moved onto medical science. Yū sighs and grudgingly slips out of the comfort his bed provides. He skulks downstairs on hunters’ feet. His mother is knitting in front of the small television set in the living room, and he can hear his father stomping and muttering around upstairs. Still, though, being quiet is imperative.

He wasn’t hungry, truly, but Yū knows that his siblings and Asahi would get troubled if they discover he was skipping meals. Such a discovery would bring about questions, questions Yū didn’t want to answer, didn’t have the energy to answer, so he makes his way into the kitchen and quietly scourges the fridge and cupboards for something light and sustaining to consume.

His mother gives a light laugh at the television, immersed in the show and her knitting. Yū thinks it’s the beginning of a scarf. He eats canned soup silently, only the sound of his mother and his chewing echoing in his ears. Yū can feel his body trembling with anxiety, with the need for flight, as he hears certain clumping footsteps encroaching.

It’s okay, it’s okay, everything is okay, Yū chants in his mind, forgetting momentarily that there is someone else who is able to listen in. Don’t freak out, it’s okay, just eat the soup. Eat the soup and go back to your bed. It’s fine. He’s going to ignore you. It’s okay. Focus on the soup, Yū.

His fathers’ shadow hovers over him. Yū can feel himself trembling violently.

Breathe. Just breathe. Fucking breathe, Yū. Don’t react. Do not react. Yū tells himself. It’s okay, you’re okay, just breathe, breathe.

“Yū,” his father says in his gruff, grating voice. Yū cringes. “How’s school?”

“Fine,” Yū replies in a soft voice. “H-How’s work?”

“I got fired,” his father sighs, leaning against the wall. There was a bottle of alcohol held in his hands. Yū swallows and hopes that his father won’t throw it at his head. His father peers at him with a pondering gleam in familiar orbs. “You met your soulmate, yet, Yū?”

Yū can feel the air around him stilling. He can feel himself forgetting how to breathe, how to think, how to—

“I asked you a question, Yū,” his father speaks. His breath is scorching and disgusting against Yū’s skin. Yū freezes, doesn’t move, terrified of what would happen if he did. “You met your soulmate?”

Yū swallows, thinks this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, fuck, I’m going to die, and whispers, “Yes.”

Asahi’s voice is strong and clear, rebounding against Yū’s flurrying thoughts. Yū, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Talk to me, baby, let me hear your voice. Yū? Are you there? Are you awake? Shit.

Yū awakens in a familiar setting—his bedroom. He’s not burrowed underneath his bed, which is his preference, and pocketful’s of sunshine filter in his room. Groggily, Yū blinks at his alarm clock. It’s ten in the morning. He feels as if he was run over twelve times by a truck, brutally murdered, and then taped back together with shitty supplies. His limbs ache, and the hole in his chest is burning something fierce, and Yū is seriously regretting waking up.

Kazuki is downstairs, screeching at someone – his parents most likely. Michiko is—

Well, his sister was right next to him, quietly running her fingers through his hair. She notices that he’s aware of the world and smiles. “Hey, you,” Michiko murmurs. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Yū croaks. “What happened?”

“Dad went berserk,” Michiko supplies helpfully. “Mom was able to get him off you but you were unconscious by that time.”

Oh.

Yū remembers now. He remembers the ire, the acidic hatred, the agony of never seeing Asahi again because he thought his father was going to commit filicide.

“Kazu-nii kicked him out,” Michiko whispers. “He’s currently shouting at the man – he refuses to leave the front porch.”

“You piece of shit, get the hell off of my property!” Kazuki shrieks vehemently.

“This is my house!” his father protests.

Yū can practically see the self-satisfied smirk on Kazuki’s lips as he replies, “I signed the lease. I pay the rent, therefore this house is under the name of Nishinoya Kazuki. You have no right to be here anymore.”

“So you’re just kicking your old man out?”

“You are no father to me,” Kazuki hissed.

Yū drifts away from the conversation, finding himself floating in the same aggravating sea that went back and forth between kindness and cruelty. Asahi is in the back of his mind, buzzing, worrying, concerned. Yū wishes to send him a positive thought but can’t dredge up the energy it would take. Really, he was a horrible person.

But, most of all, he was tired.

Always tired.

Oh, so tired.

Yū didn’t go to school for the rest of the week. He had a concussion, according to the doctor, as well as a broken ankle. The broken bone left a horrible aftertaste in his mouth rather than the concussion. He couldn’t be the Guardian Deity of Karasuno if he was in pieces. Asahi’s worrying was getting to the point of overwhelming words. It wasn’t as if Yū thrived on keeping his soulmate out of the loop, Yū just found it exhausting thinking of having to explain everything to Asahi – explain his parents, his life, the burning hole that would never disperse.

Asahi is patient though, and through the flurry of white coats and examinations, Yū is grateful for his soulmates’ presence.

The weekend dawned bright and early.

His father is going to prison.

His mother disappeared with only a note left behind, one that said ‘I’m sorry for hurting you and causing all of you so much grief. Now that your father is out of your life, I can leave without being guilty. Please don’t look for me. Don’t inform the police. I do not wish to intrude on your lives any longer. I have done enough damage. Love, your mother, Nishinoya Cheiko. P.S. Custody over Yū is in Kazuki’s hands, and has always been ever since Kazuki turned eighteen. ’

Yū refused to shed a tear over his mothers’ departure.

At reading the letter, Michiko snorted. “Damn right she did enough damage. Fucking bitch – I’m glad she left.”

“Whether she’s a bitch or not, Michiko,” Kazuki scolds. “She’s still our mother.”

“Mother my ass,” Michiko mutters. Kazuki doesn’t bother chastising the nineteen-year-old but rolls his eyes and playfully swats the newspaper in her direction.

Yū can’t help the small grin that lights up his face. His siblings looked happier now that their emotionally and mentally damaging parents were away from their lives. Yū wonders if he should feel happy, if he should feel as if this was a life changing moment. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. The world was revolving around him but only one thing remained constant.

He was tired.

Oh, so tired.

On Sunday, Asahi texts him. Meet me at the park by my house. It’s an emergency.

The thought of something happening to his sweet, gentle giant of a soulmate seizes Yū, and he can’t find the strength to breathe for a minute or so before he slips on his flip flops and hollers for Kazuki to take him to the park that was fifteen minutes away from the house.

“Why?” Kazuki questions from the bottom of the stairway.

Yū glowers. “My soulmate.”

“Ah,” Kazuki nods, like he understands, and probably does. His older brother grabs the car keys whilst Michiko helps him get into the car. The ride is silent and filled with Yū panicking silently over what could be wrong. Scenarios scramble in his mind as Kazuki pulls into an empty parking spot but Yū waits diligently for his older brother to help him out of the car.

Spotting Asahi was easy – the third year was called a giant for a reason. Asahi catches Yū as Yū hobbles in his soulmates’ direction, and the smile is wiped off of Asahi’s face with a hardened scowl of worry. Once Yū is able to maneuver himself in front of his soulmate, Asahi immediately begins to fuss. Yū allows the taller male to usher him to an empty bench.

Questions stick to the top of his mouth. He wishes to speak but Yū doesn’t know how to begin.

“Who hurt you?” Asahi questioned in a dark tone.

Yū blinks but glares down at the wooden table. “My father.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Asahi declares after a tense moment of silence.

“He’s on his way to prison,” Yū explains. “I don’t want you getting carted off for murder, you know.”

“Is this…” Asahi begins, visibly hesitating. “Is this why you were acting so odd?”

“Amongst other things,” Yū whispers.

“That’s okay,” his soulmate replies, wrapping his arm around Yū, pulling the smaller male close. “That’s perfectly fine. You can tell me when you’re ready, okay? I can wait.”

Yū grips the front of Asahi’s shirt and burrows his head against his soulmates’ chest. His shoulders are trembling. The gaping hole is aching. There is a war raging inside of his mind. Yet, a bubble of courage trickles forth. Admitting it will be hard enough, and Yū doesn’t wish to see Asahi’s reactions to the truth, to the secrets, to the game of pretend Yū has been participating in ever since the third grade when he was diagnosed with depression.

“Asahi,” Yū starts. “I’m tired.”

With the questioning tone of Asahi’s thoughts, Yū knows that his soulmate didn’t truly understand. “Okay,” Asahi responds. “You can take a nap – I’ll make sure no one w—,”

“Not that kind of tired, Asahi,” Yū interrupts, his grip on Asahi’s shirt tightening as tears prickle his eyes. “I’m just exhausted.”

Tired.

Always tired.

“That’s alright,” Asahi whispers, still not grasping.

“Did you know?” Yū murmurs. “I was eight when I was diagnosed with depression.”

There is a slight pause before Asahi chokes, “Depression?”

Yū hums. The lead ball was starting to choke him, the metaphorical chain digging into his neck. “Depression.” Yū nods. “I’m telling you, Asahi, that I have depression and – and I’m tired.”

There. He said it.

“Of what?” Asahi whispers, voice filled with something unfathomable.

“Of pretending,” Yū sobs. “Of trying to be the Nishinoya Yū I’m supposed to be. But I can’t. I can’t do it anymore, Asahi. I’m just tired. I’m so tired.”

Asahi holds him tightly, somehow shielding him from the curious eyes drifting to their silhouettes. Asahi rubs his back, a comforting, familiar presence to Yū’s frazzled state. Asahi’s murmurs echoed in his thoughts. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here. I’m not going to leave. We’ll get through this. It’s going to be alright.”

His brother once whispered those words to him one night after a particularly harsh aftermath of his father, with broken dishes surrounding him, and the echoes of bruises scrawling over his skin like a canvas. Unlike Kazuki, Yū believes in Asahi’s words.

“We’ll get through this,” Asahi murmurs against the soft whisper of the wind.

Yū gives a slight nod from his sanctuary in his soulmates’ arms. “I believe you.”