Work Text:
Atsumu had been passively suicidal his whole life, there was no doubt about that. He had always wondered what it would be like to jump off the bridge, step in front of the moving truck, what the feel of a rope would be like on his neck, the slide of a blade on his skin... There are hundreds, thousands, of ways to attempt suicide and he had probably thought of every single one of them. The thoughts of it obsessively consumed his mind daily.
The most fucked up part is that Atsumu generally has a good life. He has passions for his sport, for his education, and for his family. He has a support system in his team, his friends, his brother, and his mom. He has all the variables needed in the equation of success. And he is. Successful.
When he was younger, he was convinced that only two people in the world kept him alive. His mom and his twin were his only tethers to the world of the living. He kind of thought that everyone was like that… Every person had little tethers, strings maybe, that attached them to reality. When each one of those strings were cut or broken, that person becomes detached from reality, and eventually they die. A part of himself still believes this; he still believes he only has two strings. If either of his strings were cut, he would simply cease to be and eventually die.
Osamu Miya died on May 8th. The twins always laughed at people when they commented on twin-tuition, or some sort of connection between them that is more unique than other siblings. They claimed they were normal, there was nothing special about their connection. They couldn't read each other's mind or feel each other's pain.
But Atsumu does feel empty when he gets the call from his mom. a deep emptiness inside of him that will likely never be filled. His whole life, there were two people that kept him grounded to reality. Now there is one, and one person is not enough.
There are hundreds, thousands, of ways to attempt suicide. He can picture each and every one so clearly in his head as he floats his way through the next couple of weeks. He takes a train from Osaka to Hyogo and thinks that he could step out in front of it. There is hand sanitizer in the bathroom of the funeral home, drinking the whole thing would surely kill him. He helps his mom put out casseroles and deserts and other foods, using scissors to cut the plastic wrapping, knives to slice out servings. There are so many sharp things in a kitchen, each and every one of them brings up a new image in his head.
His brother was healthy. His brother was kind and passionate and he had a full life to live. He had a business and a husband. His brother wanted kids. His brother had lots of tethers attaching him to reality. Atsumu thinks about how it should be him in the coffin.
His mom can’t lose two sons. This is the only thing that stops him from acting on any of his thoughts. He takes the season off of the team to get his shit together. He and Suna sell his brother's business and Suna keeps the money to travel. Atsumu thinks about the knives as he helps pack up boxes. He thinks about the cleaning agents that would kill him. He thinks about how high the roof is in the building they are in. Suna watches, concerned but consumed by his own grief to really see anything.
Atsumu's mom stops reaching out to him. Maybe it’s Atsumus' fault for not going home as often, it’s his fault for holding himself up in his tiny apartment in Osaka instead of caring for his mother. Either way, she doesn’t reach out to him and he is looking for any excuse to untether. His second string is frayed… No brother and a lack of a mom means he can finally seek out the release he has been looking for since he was young.
there are hundreds, thousands, of ways to commit suicide and Atsumu Miya has finally decided that he can do it. He writes one letter to no one in particular and decides that the easiest way would be to jump from the bridge. There are pros and cons to this method. He should know, he has thought about them every time he has crossed this bridge on the way to their practice gym. For one, it’s likely that someone will see him and try to stop him. He plans to mitigate this by doing it late at night. Fewer people will be out, so the likelihood of people stopping him will be significantly reduced. It's also a rather short bridge, though many others have jumped and been successful in their attempts, about twenty-five percent of people survive. Paddling up to shore with the humiliation of a failed attempt is not something he is particularly interested in. Again, there are ways to mitigate this, weights for one, which he stuffs inside of the pockets of his already heavy hoodie.
There is a certain peace that comes from knowing that he is going to die. He wonders if his brother ever felt this peace, then reminds himself that this is unlikely. Osamu died on impact. His death was instantaneous and painless; the doctor had said so, as if that would make them feel better.
He takes his time on his walk to the bridge. This will be the last time he roams these streets. The last time he sees the Osaka skyline. The last time he roams this earth. The last time he smells the shawarma food from the stand by his apartment. He tries to think of the things that he will miss, but finds he can't really think of anything. He will miss volleyball, maybe, but even that has lost its spark knowing that he won't be able to tell Osamu about every success and failure.
The night is warm. Osamu had died in winter. It's spring now. He has gone nearly a whole season without his brother. He's older than his brother now, but he wont be for long. Atsumu had left his phone and headphones on his desk next to his letter, so he has nothing to distract his mind with on his walk. There is hardly anyone else walking on the streets. He sees a dark haired man exiting the convenience shop across the street and an old woman getting out of a taxi. He blankly floats by each person.
If they had known where he was going, what he was doing, would they have stopped him? Why was there a small part of himself that wants to be stopped? Maybe on the news tomorrow, they will hear about the man who had jumped off the bridge. Maybe they will show his photo. Maybe they will recognize him.
His throat is tight by the time he gets to the bridge. A stone in his chest makes his heart heavy and his pulse picks up speed. Last night and this morning he felt peaceful, but now he wonders if there is still a chance to turn back and get help...
But get help from whom? His brother is dead, his mom is hardly speaking to him, Suna is in some Eastern European country, and he hasn't spoken to his team in nearly a month. He takes a deep breath and places both of his palms on the fence separating him from the water.
The fence is cold and damp. He grips it tight so that he can lift his lower body over it, his heels shuffling along the small ledge of the bridge. He leans against the fence and keeps a tight grip on it to prevent himself from falling.
He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. The city is silent, and for such a loud city, this should be impossible. Another deep breath, he shuffles his feet.
A gloved hand grabs his own. It makes Atsumu gasp and stumble to regain his balance. His heart falls like a stone, practically out of his ass, he was startled so much.
"What are you doing?"
He recognizes the tense, cold voice as that of Kyoomi who is still holding Atsumus hand in a death grip. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Get the fuck back over here," He grumbles. If Astumu were in a better state, he would probably have recognized how his voice trembles and his eyes are damp, a drop in his usual neutral facade.
"And if I don't?" Atsumu retorts, looking back over at the flowing river below him.
"You're really going to make me watch you kill yourself?" Kyoomi asks, "you would do that to me?"
Atsumu already knows that the answer is no. He wouldn't wish that upon anyone. With a final breath he sags slightly and lets Kyoomi pull him back from over the fencing. He isn't expecting Kyoomi to pull him into a hug. In fact, he can't think of a single time that Kyoomi has ever hugged anyone. Atsumu stiffens, before letting himself lean into it.
I’m a fucking idiot, Atsumu thinks to himself as Sakusa drags him along city streets to his apartment. I don’t want to die, I just want Osamu.