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Sometimes, Shouyo forces himself to do equations in his head. Math is HARD. Mental math is harder. He does this when he feels things too strongly, when SADNESS or ANGER or FRUSTRATION threaten to overwhelm him and he feels dangerously close to tears. What is 17 x 17? Something…7…no… 8? Something 89? …OK, he’s ok. The moment has passed and Shouyo is ok.
But sometimes the world is too much even for math equations.
Shouyo has another plan for these kinds of days. He smiles the whole day through. His friends invite him to lunch; he jokes and laughs and truly enjoys their company. They invite him to hang out after school; he politely declines, cheerfully waves them off from his bike.
Once home, Shouyo buries his face in the pillow and draws blankets, sometimes several, over and around himself until not the smallest tuft of hair can be seen. He clutches all of his stuffed animals, multiple at a time, and smushes them to his chest while he lies underneath the sheets. And for an hour or two at a time he just. cries.
Occasionally, Shouyo feels like he cries for no good reason at all. Sometimes it’s until he’s forgotten why he even started crying at all. He cries so hard and for so long, the snot and the sweat created from his self-entombment of heavy blankets eventually drives him to fling them off in disgust – then takes a breath of clean fresh air, the first in hours. Shouyo sometimes imagines it’s what being born feels like, and he feels better now, he thinks.
Shouyo makes it through another day.
It’s sometime in high school that Shouyo gets a boyfriend. Sometimes his boyfriend’s name is ‘Kageyama.' Sometimes it’s 'Yamayama-kun.’ Many many years later, sometime after graduation, it’s even ‘Dumbass,’ although that last one is still guaranteed to earn him a long chase and inevitable head squeeze.
Sometimes it’s a creaky or wobbly ‘Tobio’ croaked into a phone at 3 o’clock on a workday.
In the time it takes Shouyo to bury his face into his pillow and to draw blankets over himself, their apartment doorbell rings. Moments later the bedroom door opens; Tobio stands there, illuminated by the hallway light. Without a word, his boyfriend marches into the room, climbs onto their king bed, and peels blankets off resolutely one by one. Still sitting on the bed, Tobio then leans his back up against the wall and straightens his legs in front of him. Opens his arms.
Shouyo blinks rapidly in the light, then blearily clambers onto his lap. Wrapping his arms and legs all the way round Tobio's torso, he swivels to face his boyfriend head-on. Tips his face up. Tobio obliges and bends his own face down, slowly peppering Shouyo's face with gentle kisses: one for the small forehead, for each closed eyelid, each cheek, and finally one on the lips. They always withdraw from the last one reluctantly.
Shouyo smushes his face into whatever unfortunate sweater or shirt Tobio is wearing at the moment, maybe even rubs in snot and tears for good measure. In turn, Tobio tucks his chin over his boyfriend's head and brings his arms up to wrap around. In the silence, he clings to Shouyo as much as Shouyo clings to him. Sometimes, almost meditatively, Tobio gathers the stuffed animals dispersed around them. He tucks each and every one, slowly and carefully as if solving a puzzle piece, into the crevices and holes where the two of them don’t quite touch despite close cuddling.
Tobio knows by now that Shouyo is not a loud crier. Angry tears, sad tears… His boyfriend may shake or tremble at a mile per second, but he’ll rarely make a peep. For the really bad days, Tobio only clutches him harder and Shouyo is grateful.
A faint rustling. A quiet exhale. A slow but steady heartbeat.
A whisper, I am here.