Work Text:
The feeling hits when he's on the train.
They're stopped at a stop, and Kuroo looks out the window and thinks, "Fuck."
He goes to lean his forehead against the glass, and winds up using more force than he had intended. His head smacks against the glass with a loud noise that has several people turning their heads to look at him. He focuses on the dull ache spreading through his skull and doesn't look at them. He can feel Kenma's eyes on him. He ignores those too.
He spends the rest of the train ride trying to resist the urge to slam his head against the glass again and ignoring the way that Kenma is fidgeting beside him. Some part of him feels bad for making Kenma uncomfortable, since it's likely that they know exactly what's going on, and they just don't know what to say. Kuroo wants to be able to say something reassuring, but doesn't say a fucking word.
When their stop comes, Kuroo gets off with Kenma, and walks all the way to school with them. He keeps his music turned up loud enough to make his ears hurt, and he knows that Kenma can hear it and take the hint of "don't talk to me right now". He feels bad, but he doesn't turn the music down, and when the two of them get to school, he leaves Kenma in the dust and goes straight to class.
There's a pair of scissors on the desk next to his.
"You see those?" His brain thinks, "Stab yourself in the fucking eye with them."
Kuroo buries his face in his arms and tries to make himself stop thinking.
"Go for the throat." His brain advises.
He sinks his teeth into his forearm and cannot fucking wait for the day to be over.
-
The day absolutely refuses to be over.
He can't say exactly how long it's been since class has started, his teacher is talking and Kuroo can't understand a word. He's been taking notes, but he can't read his own handwriting when he's like this and so he's not actually sure if they're what they're supposed to be, and even if he could read the mess on the page, he doesn't actually know what they're talking about in class, so it wouldn't help.
It also doesn't help that he's having to continuously fight off the urge to swallow his eraser.
The lunch bell ringing is a relief, but only a minor one. Kuroo has a lunch, but he doesn't want to eat it.
It takes him several moments to realize that there's someone calling his name.
When he finally turns his head, Yaku is about two inches away from his face.
"What are you doing?" Yaku asks, tone demanding.
Kuroo grins, "Oh, you know." He says, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them hidden and leaning back in his chair, "It's just one of those days."
He doesn't miss the concern that flits over Yaku's face, despite the way the other third year tries to hide it.
There's a brief pause. Yaku's eyes fall on Kuroo's pockets, and Kuroo barely has time to think "Shit" before Yaku says, "Take your hands out of your pockets."
Kuroo sighs, a bit bitterly, but does. He places his hands on the desk, and pastes a nonchalant expression on his face to hide the nasty sick feeling rising in his throat. His hands are covered in bright red teeth marks and crescent moon indents. A couple are still beading with blood.
His expression doesn't waver when Yaku sighs, but the feeling in his stomach gets worse and his grin only grows to hide it.
-
He wants to skip practice but Kenma shows up before he can leave and refuses to go away unless Kuroo is following them.
When they pass by the street, Kuroo thinks about going to lay down in the middle of it.
He figures it's a waste of time. Most drivers would be able to see him long before they even get close, so there's no point.
He pries his eyes away from it when he feels Kenma's hand on one of his.
"What?" Kuroo asks, smirking to hide his disappointment.
Kenma's face remains impassive. "Nothing," they say.
But they don't let go.
-
Practice is more of the same shit.
He can't concentrate on the drills and keeps losing track of what's going on. Stray thoughts keep reminding him what a worthless of piece of shit he is, "I know", Kuroo thinks back at them, but they won't shut up.
His hands keep finding their way into his mouth. Someone is usually there to smack them away, but once he manages to get far enough away to bite down hard enough for the taste of blood to fill his mouth. His hand is still clenched between his teeth when it blocks the volleyball that's come hurtling toward his face, and that only makes the bleeding worse.
"This is your fault." His brain tells him, as he looks at the expressions on Kenma's and Yaku's face.
"I know."
"Fucking pathetic."
"I know."
-
Kenma and Yaku follow him home, and Kuroo can't find it in himself to be surprised.
His parents aren't home, the house is silent, and Kuroo goes straight to his room and drops to the floor, sprawling out on his side and ignoring the boys that follow him in. He's tired as hell. He doesn't want to think anymore, but his brain won't shut the fuck up.
"Hey," he says, and his voice grates in his throat. Kenma looks up questioningly, and Kuroo lifts a hand to point vaguely at the desk. "There's a pair of scissors up there, right?" There is, he used them last night for a school assignment, but he waits for Kenma's nod before he continues. "Get rid of them, will you?"
He doesn't elaborate and Kenma doesn't ask. It's not like Kuroo really wants to use them, but some part of his brain won't shut up about its sudden urge to gut himself with them, and he'd rather eliminate the problem before it really becomes one.
As Kenma walks out with the scissors, Yaku walks in, staring concernedly down at Kuroo on the floor.
Kuroo doesn't get up, but he waves jauntily, aware of the fact that the effect is ruined by the red marks on his hand. The bleeding has stopped, but the blood's still there.
Yaku masks a grimace, shaking the bottle of peroxide and the box of band-aids that he has in his hands, walking over to sit next to Kuroo. Yaku doesn't speak, just grabs one of Kuroo's hands and sets to work, cleaning out the cuts and the bites while Kuroo swallows back the guilt and nausea burning in his stomach.
When Yaku starts putting band-aids over the wounds, for some reason that's it. Kuroo starts to cry, the hand that's not in Yaku's grip comes up to cover his face in a futile attempt to hide the display of negative emotion.
"I'm sorry," he gasps out, "Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry."
"For what?" Yaku asks, and his tone is neutral, but Kuroo can see the expression on his face when he looks out from behind his shaking fingers.
"Sorry." He repeats, and has no intention of answering the question. He doesn't say "Sorry I'm such a fucking mess, Sorry you have to watch over me like this, sorry that I make you do this, sorry I have to be like this, Sorry I can't take care of myself, Sorry I'm so goddamn motherfucking useless." but he thinks it.
Kenma comes back and shuts the door behind them. Kuroo hears the noise through his pathetic shaky gasps of breath and his brain thinks, "Get up and slam your head in the door."
"Damn it." Kuroo mutters, pressing his the heel of his palm into his eye until it aches, and then he keeps on pressing until Kenma pries his hand away. Kuroo makes a noise that could be a sob, but doesn't say a word. Doesn't say that the pain makes his brain shut up, because that will help nothing.
"If you tell them, you will hurt them."
"I know."
Kuroo tugs his hand back gently to wipe his face off, his nails brush against his face, and immediately: "Dig your nails in and peel your skin off."
He gets the urge to laugh, and before he can decide what to do about that, Kenma has laid down next to him, and pressed their back against Kuroo's chest. They hesitate for a moment, and then grabs Kuroo's hand and forces it around their middle, pressing their body weight over it to keep it trapped and Kuroo can't not laugh at that.
He starts crying again, but he buries his face into Kenma's hair and acts like he isn't.
Yaku gets up, drags the comforter off Kuroo's bed and lays down, pulling Kuroo against his chest and draping the blanket over the three of them. Yaku's hand recaptures Kuroo's free one, and he intertwines their fingers together and brushes his thumb over the band-aids there.
Kuroo wants to make a comment about Yaku and Kenma's size, but doesn't. He already feels like shit for doing this to them, he doesn't need to make the feeling worse.
The part of his brain where the intrusive thoughts live, on the other hand, loves the idea and insists that he absolutely make the feeling worse because he deserves it.
He does deserve it, but he bites his lip and keeps the words inside of his chest.
It takes him hours to actually fall asleep. Kenma and Yaku both are breathing steadily and are pressed slackly against Kuroo, and he wants to wake them up. He knows that he should, to tell them, "You haven't eaten, you need to eat something skipping meals isn't healthy. Do your parents know that you're going to be here? Have you texted them?" but he doesn't wake them up and he doesn't speak a word. He feels like shit, but he doesn't want them to leave and if he wakes them up, then they might, and he doesn't want to risk it.
"You're fucking disgusting."
"I know."
These thoughts turn over and over and over and over in his head until he's finally able to fall asleep, hoping to god that tomorrow is a better day than today, but he finds himself unable to get his hopes up too high.