Chapter Text
Kiyomi felt nauseous. His guts were tied in a knot and threatened to spill their contents for everyone to see. That would’ve been bad enough on its own, but even more so because of his emetophobia. He didn’t actually know if he was emetophobic, one could say he was self-diagnosed. Then again, he did study medicine, so maybe he’d actually be qualified to make that diagnosis in a few years…. should he choose to pursue psychiatry as his specialty.
(Which he wouldn’t. He was already enough of a nut job on his own - no reason to make other people suffer too.)
The pit in his stomach grew tighter and tighter with every passing second. At this point, he was just hoping he’d pass out instead of throwing up. His hair stuck to his forehead, and there was an imprint of his teeth on the inside of his cheek from biting it. In situations like these, Kiyomi wondered whether he was just a masochistic idiot for putting himself through this kind of nerve-wracking stress, or if he was simply too far in to quit. It was probably a bit of both. That, and the fact that he was just a little bit too proud.
Might as well die now.
“Thank you Sakusa-san, for this excellent presentation of the case. As there are no further questions, we’ll continue with-...”
The voice trailed off. Kiyomi stopped listening after that.
If it hadn’t just happened to him, he wouldn’t have believed it, but he had actually survived the ordeal. Without throwing up or passing out, thank you very much. Gathering his laptop, Kiyomi made his way back to his seat on wobbly legs. He almost tripped as he sat down, but a win was a win, and he savoured this one - even if he could hear his nemesis chuckling somewhere in the corner.
The seminar might have been the reason why Kiyomi finally came to grasp the finer points of the theory of relativity. Time had never passed more slowly. Ninety minutes had never felt this long, and he knew his way around a plank.
To summarize the events of this class so far: he had nearly died because he couldn’t function like a normal human being. What kind of nervous system couldn’t tell the difference between being hunted and presenting a patient case to their peers? Now the seminar was just plain boring, and the sole of his foot itched. All in all, it was just an average day in Kiyomi’s life.
“Last patient case will be presented by Miya, Atsumu.”
That caught his attention.
The faux blonde rose from his seat and strolled to the front with an easy smile on his lips. He didn’t look nervous or like his whole body was about to explode - the way Kiyomi’s had just moments ago. He even made it look effortless.
Come to think of it, Miya made everything look effortless.
That wasn’t fair. Everything came easily to him. The teachers liked him. He always volunteered and never fucked it up on the first try. He always had the right answer when they asked questions. He was never awkward when introducing himself to the team, and on top of all that he was just effortlessly smart.
(The bastard had also been blessed genetically, even if Kiyomi would rather present another hundred patient cases than admit that out loud.)
Naturally, he hated Miya.
“Hey, I know we almost fell aslee-“
He was cut off by the opening notes of Welcome to the Black Parade blasting through the room.
Kiyomi’s phone.
The alarm he’d forgotten to turn off. Every head in the room turned toward him.
…Maybe he’d been a little dramatic before. He’d survived presenting the patient case.
This, however, would be his actual cause of death.
He had to say something. Salvage the situation, do damage control – anything. But he’d lost control of his own body. His mouth had forgotten how to form words. His brain seemed as though it had never produced a single coherent thought in its life. His eyes threatened to pop right out of their sockets.
It was a major betrayal, honestly.
There was only one option left: pack his bags and flee the country.
He could probably learn how to surf - he was fairly athletic - and become an instructor somewhere tropical. Kiyomi had absolutely no social skills whatsoever, but anything was better than this.
His frantic train of thought was interrupted by Miya, who, unlike Kiyomi, managed to salvage the situation.
“Well thank you for the perfect introduction. Exactly as planned.” A few people chuckled. “Now that I’ve got everyone’s attention, I’d like to present to you this young boy, six years old, who presented with anisocoria on examination-”
Kiyomi didn’t hear another word after that. He was far too busy trying to calm his heart, which seemed determined to beat its way out of his chest. He hated how grateful he felt toward Miya for defusing the situation without making things even more awkward for him.
But it was Miya.
His nemesis.
And now he felt like he owed him something.
He didn’t know which was worse.
When the seminar ended, Kiyomi made a beeline for the exit. He had to get out of that stuffy room and was in serious need of some alone time so he could reset his nervous system. He was halfway out of the building when he heard his name being shouted. But just because he noticed, didn’t mean he had to react, so his steps didn’t falter, nor did his pace.
What did make him stop was a tan hand on his shoulder. His whole body revolted at the touch as if he’d been stung by a scorpion. Well, whoever had tried to catch his attention had certainly succeeded.
Kiyomi looked up to find Miya frowning at him, his brows pinched together.
“Damn, Sakusa, you’re, like, really fast. Also, sorry for scaring ya. I really didn’t mean to.”
Miya sounded sincere, but there was a gleam in his eyes and Kiyomi didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t like the guy and, furthermore, he was just bad at talking to people, really.
When it became apparent that Kiyomi wasn’t going to answer, Atsumu just grinned to himself and fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“Nothin’? Not even a ‘Thanks for savin’ my sorry ass in there. I‘m so fuckin' grateful. This was a living nightmare for me because I´m an unstable mess on two surprisingly fast legs.’”
Miya was obviously mocking him. That just pissed him off even more. In another life, he might have said thank you or handled the situation with at least a shred more dignity and grace. In this one, he just flipped him off and muttered, “Brat,” under his breath.
Before Miya could ruin his day any further, Kiyomi put those long, fast legs to use and took off.
Back in his dorm, Kiyomi thanked the gods that he was living alone and didn’t have to share his space. Because of that, he could bang his head against the wall without fearing he’d end up admitted to the psych ward. He probably belonged there, but it was nice that the choice was still his.
The absurdity of his behaviour hit him hard when his phone – the little traitor – rang. He stared at the caller ID and wondered whether he really wanted to subject himself to even more torture today. Hadn’t he suffered enough already?
Kiyomi picked up.
“What?” he groaned.
The person on the other end immediately burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Who rained on you parade today? Did they cancel your K-Drama again?” his cousin teased.
Kiyomi didn’t really have the mental capacity for this conversation, but there was no getting out of it until Motoya got what he came for.
“Don’t you even dare say that. The universe might hear you and punish me for it. It loves doing that.”
He sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, but he felt so drained. There was no amount of sleep that could fix that. Why couldn’t he have just died in that classroom? It would have saved him from all future responsibilities, fuckups, escapades or whatever else life had in store for him.
“Geez, Kiyo, you’re being so dramatic. How many times do I have to tell you the universe isn’t out to get you? You’re just pathetic all on your own. You’re really not that important. So, what happened to make you so miserable?”
He shouldn’t have answered that call. This was hell.
“Thank you for your kind words. You always brighten my day with that wonderful personality of yours,” Kiyomi shot back sarcastically. Honestly, there was no need for all that.
Motoya laughed even harder. Kiyomi couldn’t help rolling his eyes. He only wished his cousin could see it.
“Well, thank you for saying that. You’re so right. The world is a much better place because of me. But seriously, what happened to you?” Motoya asked.
Kiyomi didn’t want to tell him. In fact, he just wanted to forget this day had ever happened. He was going to wallow in self-pity and listen to sad music. Or maybe not, because it reminded him too much of what had happened in the seminar.
“You know, I’m not gonna stop until you tell me, so might as well do it know. I’ve got nothing planned today, so we have all the time in the world to get you talking. Come to think of it, I could just swing by and you could tell me in person. Oh my God, yes! And I also need your opinion on this guy I met at lunch- “
“Please stop,” Kiyomi interrupted. “Fine, I’ll tell you if you just shut up.”
“You’re too easy Kiyo.”
So, he gave up and told him, in detail, just how much his day had sucked and why he deserved some peace and quiet instead of this pestering. Kiyomi hoped this would be the end of the conversation. To no one’s surprise, he was wrong.
“Wow, I forgot how emo you are. Boo-hoo, nothing even happened. You got nervous for no reason. like always. Then you crushed the presentation – like you always do – and then your alarm went off. A little embarrassing that it was that song, but come on. Everybody will have forgotten about it in two weeks, tops. I was expecting something big, like when you poked yourself with a needle, thought it had already been used, then freaked out so badly that you hit your head on the door frame, passed out, and woke up with that huge, ugly bump on your fore-“
“Okay, we get it. In the grand scheme of things, worse things have happened to me, but this was bad too. Especially because now the perfect, prissy cocky bastard got to play hero and thinks he’s superior. He just pissed me off with his ugly, piss-coloured hair and smooth words. Like, we get it. You don’t stumble over your words or have your brain completely shut down the moment somebody asks you something.”
“As much as I love this rant you’ve got going on, I’ve gotta get to practice. Also, it sounds like you’re just jealous of the guy.” Motoya laughed. “I bet he’s hot.”
Kiyomi’s brain stopped working for a second, something it did quite frequently, he felt compelled to add. Motoya was a menace. Worse yet, he wasn’t even wrong. (About the jealousy, not the being hot part.) Kiyomi knew he was lying to himself, but that wasn’t really the point.
“So first of all, what happened to ‘I have all the time in the world to pester my poor, tired cousin’?” Kiyomi started, only to be rudely cut off by Motoya.
“I played you like a fiddle, son. Also- “
“Don’t call me son,” Kiyomi interjected.
His idiot of a cousin continued as if Kiyomi hadn’t said a word.
“Not my fault you never call my bluff and are so easy to annoy. You’d think someone studying medicine would be at least a little bit smart, but I’m surprised you’ve made it so far with the two brain cells you’ve got left.”
He laughed at his own joke, and if that wasn’t the epitome of Motoya, Kiyomi didn’t know what was.
Bastard.
He wasn’t wrong though. If anyone else had said those things to him, they would’ve hurt, but Motoya was just being Motoya. Besides, he was always the first to stand up for Kiyomi whenever people tried to undermine him or paint him as stupid and incapable.
“You’re a dick, and you know it, so I’m not gonna waste the little precious energy I’ve got left trying to make you a better person. Instead, I just hope somebody smacks you in the head with a volleyball, gives you a concussion, and maybe you fall in a really inconvenient way and break a few bones. You definitely deserve that. And no, no he’s not. He’s a sad excuse for a human being who, for some reason, is really good at deceiving people. It’s just not working on me,” Kiyomi shot back.
It was a low blow, but you know the saying: When you go low, I go lower. Words to live by.
Motoya didn’t care. He just started laughing again. He was impossible to offend.
"You’re so cute, Kiyo. The way you care so much about me - it’s so damn sweet. I would love for you to put that degree to use and nurse me back to health. We could spend so much time together. Ah, it’s a dream come true.”
If he could see Kiyomi, he’d be looking at a horrified expression.
“You’re probably making faces over there. So cute. Also, sounds like you’re kinda obsessed with that guy. Kiyo’s got a crush. Kiyo’s got a crush. Kiyo’s got a crush.” Motoya sing-songed like an obnoxious five-year-old.
Before Kiyomi could defend his honour, Motoya cursed.
“Shit, I really gotta go. Love you. Hope you dream about the guy.”
And with those words, he hung up, leaving Kiyomi in an even sourer mood than before.
Always a pleasure talking to his cousin.
He collapsed onto his bed and took a much-needed nap.
When he regained consciousness, the sun had already set. Just how long had he slept? He should have studied today, especially with exam season approaching. Or maybe hit the gym – who was he kidding? There was no way in hell either of those things was going to happen.
To be honest, he did feel better. Still not great, but at least he wasn’t contemplating jumping out of the window anymore. Kiyomi looked around for his phone. It had to be somewhere on the bed. The search proved harder than it should have been, but he eventually found it.
8:23 p.m.
The digits were mocking him. He had really slept for five whole hours. If he was being honest, he could probably go right back to sleep and not wake up until morning.
Kiyomi forced himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. When he looked in the mirror, dishevelled hair, dark circles and a big pout stared back at him. Motoya would have commented that this was his signature look. Which was really rude, but not entirely wrong.
He splashed some cold water on his face, washing away the last traces of his slumber. After washing his hands, he decided it might be smart to actually feed himself.
To his surprise, his fridge was fully stocked. Unfortunately, just as he’d expected, there was not a single thing in it that he actually wanted to eat. After inspecting its contents for another moment, he found a tub of ice cream in the freezer and decided he might as well sink to yet another low.
He was being painfully stereotypical and predictable, but he also really wanted the ice cream, so he made peace with the fact that he was acting like the heartbroken girl in a rom-com. He spent the rest of the evening absolutely demolishing the tub of nougat-hazelnut ice cream, watched two episodes of his comfort K-drama and then went back to bed at midnight.
Before actually closing his eyes, he scrolled through his social media feed on an account nobody knew he had. There was no way in hell he was giving Motoya even more ammunition to make fun of him. They had already grown up together, so his cousin had witnessed every embarrassing thing Kiyomi had ever done. That was already more than enough.
Come to think of it, one particular memory came to the forefront of his mind.
When they were six years old and just started school, Kiyomi had been too shy to talk to anyone. He just wasn’t much of a talker. But first impressions mattered, and after that he was the weird kid nobody wanted to play with.
That was fine. As already established, Kiyo was something of a lone wolf, and being by himself had never really bothered him. That was, until some kids decided it would be fun to pick on him and call him names. He might have been okay with being alone, but no six-year-old enjoyed being bullied. So Kiyomi started to hate school and pretended to be sick whenever he could. That was why he wore a mask half the time. It had started as a way to hide, but over the years it had simply become a habit. The fact that it kept people at arm’s length was just an added bonus.
When Motoya came over one day to check on his cousin, he immediately saw right through him and made him tell the truth. It had gone back and forth for a while– Kiyomi too proud to admit is was bothering him, and Motoya refused to take no for an answer. That was pretty much their entire dynamic. The next day, the kids apologized and never dared to say anything to his face again. They still talked behind his back – his cousin could only do so much.
But something had changed after that. A bond had been forged.
Then Motoya had forced Kiyomi to join the volleyball team, so there had never really been any chance of getting rid of him anyway. Not that being cousins would’ve helped much.
His trip down memory lane was cut short by the vibration of his phone.
Speak of the devil…
So, how’d you drown your feelings – with nougat-hazelnut or coconut bliss?
Also, my head is as pretty as it’s always been. The universe has favourites.
Sleep well, emo boy.
The messages came in one after another. Geez. It was like he somehow knew Kiyomi had been thinking about him. Real voodoo shit.
Naturally, Kiyomi didn’t reply. How the fuck did he know…
He set his phone on the nightstand and, thankfully, didn’t dream about any blond men.