Chapter Text
Your face had drained of colour as your hand dropped to your side—phone almost slipping from your grasp. You should’ve known this day would come, after all the rumours and warnings you heard. But that little light in your heart, that had sparked from a young age, told you that he could change—that you would make that change happen. But nothing hits hard like your first heartbreak.
Your long-distance boyfriend just broke up with you over a call. That light in your heart was now covered with a curtain, bringing a certain empty darkness to it. Along with it, a depriving voice had come back—one that you couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard you had tried. ‘The desperation in your voice was pathetic,’ it said. The agony that came along with it burdened the light. ‘And now look at you, crying—deadfaced as always.’
Your legs felt numb, or maybe it was your arms? Or your head? You couldn’t tell. Why was one thing bringing you so much pain? Others had it worse; others had it worse... ‘Others have it worse.’
The minutes blurred with your tears, fragments of the conversation from not too long ago running through your head. You didn’t know what went wrong. Perhaps you should call your friends? Or your brother? ‘Don't bother them with your useless wants of comfort.’
Your breath caught in your throat—was someone pressing it down? Had someone come into your room to put a weight on your chest? The world felt heavy; everything felt like it needed twice the work put in. A pounding in your head occurred, in rhythm with your racing heart—strange. When had that started? You looked down at your hands; they appeared to be trembling from what you could make out with your tear-blurred vision. Or was it your head that was making them seem like they were shaking?
You had by long now fallen to your knees, your legs too weak to hold you up. The urge to vomit, yell, and cry all at once overwhelmed your brain. You wanted to yell at the top of your lungs but had absolutely no energy to. Everything was draining, gone without a trace. Oh, how the darkness looked so much like home now…
You didn’t know when the ringing in your ears had started, nor anything that seemed to be happening to you, but it rang so loudly it blocked out that agonizing sound that resembled a voice in your head. But whose voice did the recognizable sound belong to?
It started right around when you got with your now ex-boyfriend about a year ago. Everything was going perfectly; nothing was ever wrong. Only when the voice started appearing, bouncing around in your head—louder than any thoughts you could ever have—did your heart start to hide that light from people around you. Again, strange.
With everything blurring together, there’s no way you could’ve kept up with the time. Had it been seconds since the call ended? Minutes? Hours?
You could check your phone. Phone. Right, you didn’t see it when you checked your hands. Why were there still tears in your eyes if you felt nothing? Maybe it was right; maybe you were always deadfaced. Right, back to your phone. Did it slip from your hands when your legs gave out? That must be the most likely option. Did you really need to look at the time? Looking for it felt like a lot of work—work that required the energy you had lost within the span of a phone call.
Would it be bad to lie on the floor and rest? Maybe just close your eyes for a bit? Maybe it’ll help with the feeling all throughout your body. You hoped. But you couldn’t just sleep without doing anything. Clearly, you had done something wrong. And what better way than to use what is at hand to punish—in a way—yourself? You managed to gather the necessary strength to bring yourself up to your desk, still on your knees but just lifted. You opened the drawer with your numb arms, reaching for that one compartment. The one that hadn’t been opened in months. You shouldn’t—but if your body was numb already, what would the difference be?
You took out the sharp blade you kept away. You hadn’t touched it in so long that there was almost a sense of déjà vu to it. You didn’t like that. But what could you do? It was the only way you could think of to relieve the pain you felt from this. ‘And now you go on to harm yourself? You really shouldn’t… But I only say that because saying you should isn’t right.’
Stupid, stupid, stupid voice… It needed to get out. You brought the blade to your thigh—the optimal place, as you could easily cover it with pants or long shorts, especially now in the summer. The faded scars already there would soon have fresh cuts to be neighbours with.
But then another voice rang through your head—a more comforting one.
“Why do you do that to yourself?” Your brother would ask after he saw you relapse, after he walked into your room without knocking.
“It’s sorta like a way to relieve mental pain by giving it to myself physically.” You replied, your face stained with your dried tears. You had been acting strangely that day, and it got you upset that you made someone else feel bad—such a little thing, and the relapse triggers. You were pathetic.
“Does it… hurt right now?”
You chuckled, albeit hollowly, at his words. “Yeah.”
You’d never really seen that look on his face—a look of true anguish. Koutaro has always been a lively person—even if he had tendencies to go into “emo” mode if he couldn’t get something right in volleyball. He’d always bounce back, no matter what. So seeing him distressed and worried as he crouched down to hug you felt off. He’s never been one to understand queues often, but it seemed he knew his twin well.
“I… I don’t really know what to say, but I know you shouldn’t be doing this. So…” He wasn’t quite able to find the words to finish, but you understood.
“Got it, Kou.” You sniffled as he had his arms around you. The blood on your thighs has dried, so no worries for if it got onto his clothes. “Just…don’t tell anyone, okay?”
He nodded. Even if he didn’t fully understand what was happening, he still wanted to be there for his sister. After all, you were twins. He didn’t know what would make you ever do such a thing, but he didn’t want to ask, as he could understand it wasn’t the time for that yet.
While that memory flashed through your mind, you hadn’t even realised your hand had moved the blade over your thigh already. The pain stung, but you knew it would sting even more later. Maybe, since you’re older now, you wouldn’t have to worry about it scarring. It would heal faster before, but scar more easily. You wouldn’t know until it healed.
The guilt was already creeping in, but you were too far in now. A few more wouldn’t hurt too much, would they? Without acknowledging it, the blade slid a few more times across your skin, revealing the bleeding skin layer. They weren’t deep, or at least not as much as before. They’d barely skim the second layer of skin now.
With a choked sob, you put the blade back with the same numb hands that grabbed it again. As you fell back, you managed to close the drawer. Lying on the floor of your room felt different now—more reserved.
With a heavy breath, you close your eyes and embrace the pain. The pain…
Your eyes opened. The lights in your room were now turned off. Strange, you don’t remember doing that. You also were now on your bed—strange again. You felt around for your phone, not surprised when you couldn’t find it. It had dropped earlier, and you hadn’t found the strength to find it. So to check the time, you instead stood up and went to your laptop. A sharp sting had originated from your leg, and you looked down to remember why. You ignored it for now and opened the top of your laptop— 2:38 am.
It probably wasn’t good to mess up your sleep schedule like this, but it didn’t matter now anyway. It was a Friday when you remember falling asleep—or had you passed out? With a sigh, you closed your laptop. You knelt down, feeling and looking around for your phone.
You finally grasped it after reaching your hand under your coffee table. With a groan, you stood back up to go to your bed. It was so comfortable right now… You turned onto your side, unlocking your phone before checking notifications. Mindlessly scrolling through them was a perfect time waster when needed. Your friend, Kuroo, texted you. You weren’t compelled to say best friend, but you were well acquainted with him and some others at Nekoma. After all, them being rivals of your brother’s school helped to get you introduced to them.
Sometimes you wonder what it would be like if you had gone to Fukurodani instead of Nekoma, along with your brother. Other times you were grateful you had made the decision to go to different schools. Being twins with him was enough work.
Kuroo had texted you about some details for a…training camp? Something about taking photos for them… Well, photography was a good stress reliever—especially needed now, after recent events. You didn’t have much else to do, so why not? Your brother would be there, and so would the Nekoma team—along with some other strong teams.
Volleyball-related photography was always so fun to do, with all the different possibilities with the different positions executing different needed tasks. You opened his message.
°Kuroo°
‘Yo, Y/N! We’re having a training camp this upcoming
week, and we’d love a photographer for the yearbook and stuff. Since you’re the best we know… You in?’ [9:45 pm]
Your lips curled up, faintly resembling a smile as you read his text. Despite the lateness of your reply, you still sent one.
‘I’d love to! Send me the deets, and I’ll check how I'll get there. Thanks for the invite!’
Delivered [2:43 am]
You then opened social media to delete all posts you had with your... ex. Ex. He was now your ex, and that was fine. Tears threatened to sting your eyes, and your throat tightened. But… It’s normal to cry after something like this, right? It should be…
Through that thought process, you didn’t notice the tears rolling down until they hit your hands gently. You brushed it off as your breath hitched, and you started to delete the posts. A few minutes later, and you were all done. With a sniffle and a deep breath, you realized it wasn’t too bad doing that. You thought it was supposed to be harder than that.
But then you remembered all the photos and videos and memories saved on your phone. Your notes app filled with words for him, your camera roll full of him and you, the playlists and songs that reminded you of him, the hours wasted on handmade gifts, wallpapers, widgets, and more… God, there go the tears again.
Why wasn’t fate ever on your side? You curled up, letting your phone rest on the mattress of your bed, and you sighed, the heels of your hands into your eyes. Tears and tears, how many will be shed over this? Was it wrong to want something good in life?
But you couldn’t say that. You had it good in life. You had a roof over your head, food provided every day, loving parents, technology, and more. ‘Ungrateful child. You have so much to be happy about, yet here you are creating problems.’
Shut up, shut up, shut up…!
Your headache started to come back, especially with the more tears you shed. Pain just seems to have always had a path to you.
As the quiet of the night was filled with choked and silent sobs in your room, you wondered if it’d get better. Surely it has to. But what were you saying? It has only been a few hours since the phone call—and that’s what makes it worse.
Your tears finally dried and stopped—for the time being. You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling. Was it worth going downstairs for a glass of water?
You moved your hand to grab your phone. The blue light stung your eyes as the time read: 3:04 am.
A yawn escaped your lips. You contemplated it and decided to get up. You rose to your feet, the ache still there. You slipped on your slippers and headed towards the door to go downstairs.
As you walked down the stairs, you remembered to avoid the squeaky steps and loose floorboards as you got to the first floor. Your slippers weren’t too loud, thankfully, as you walked to the kitchen. The warm, dim light near the sink was on—per usual, as your parents left it on all night for reasons you never really pried into.
You took out a cup from the cupboard and poured some water out of the water filter next to the sink. You then lean against the counter, drinking it. Pondering to yourself about everything. The one time you embraced the thoughts that bounced around your head, filling your mind with words and noises.
You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the good ones. Like how he had shown you your first fun times—not focusing on the negatives. You thought about how much fun your first volleyball photography session was with Nekoma—the way most of the boys were fooling around. You enjoyed your environment; it was good, after all.
Every single emotion had gone through your body today, and it honestly felt refreshing. After bottling so much up, it was needed.
But why were you bottling it up in the first place?