Notes

Returning to his sober state even hours later, he remembered asking Bokuto to meet. It was fair to say he remembered that next morning too. He didn't necessarily regret it, he was rather regretting talking about his crush with his crush. It could only be saved if he asked him out in a classy fashion. It would make it seem like their previous talk was intended. At least that's what he convinced himself at work.

Akaashi turned to face Sugawara's dreadful expression. His eyes were narrowed, with darker shades under his eyes. It was fair to say Sugawara looked dead.

"Hungover?" Akaashi asked as if to lighten the mood. Sugawara's side glared at him without turning his head.

"Getting drunk on wine is new," Akaashi teased him and snorted at Sugawara's eyeroll. Poor choices result in poor consequences.

"Shut up," Sugawara mumbled defeatedly, all traces of anger replacing itself with exhaustion. To Sugawara's credit, he appeared to work on time.

"I brought cup noodles for you," Akaashi finally revealed, and watched his best friend's expression light up.

Everything seemed clear on Akaashi's end.
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Kuroo Tetsurou: You sure they're not bothering you?

Me: I'm sure. They haven't reached out in forever

Kuroo Tetsurou: Exactly. That's a red flag already.

Me: What are they even going to do? I'm not even scared of them

Kuroo Tetsurou: They've got dirt on you. You're an athlete. Actually, they can do a lot

Me: Then they've would've done it a long time ago

Kuroo Tetsurou: True. Just. I don't give a shit if the cops catch me fighting them again.

Bokuto sighed heavily in between his sets. He had approximately an hour and a half of exercise. With traveling being a hinder, he had installed the machines specifically for his forearms and arms in an available room. He carried weights in his situps to keep his stomach muscles there. Accessibility was Bokuto's only way of balancing cooking, chores, and exercise. During the break, he was met with Kuroo's concern. His heartbeat drummed quickly after challenging himself with higher weights and endurance. Bokuto gulped and blamed it on his thirst, upon thinking about the only people he harbored hate for.

Out of cruel curiosity, Bokuto left Kuroo on read for a while. His eyes peered over the contacts he had texted. Despite many of the unknown numbers on the list, it didn't take more than a second to recognize the conversation. Bokuto's face drained of all emotion upon reading the past exchanges he had to participate in. The number was blocked, but the messages left a print.

Unknown: Oi volley player

Unknown: Crack queen needs money from you

Me: You're the ones who made her one

Unknown: She's our loyal buyer. What was her name again? Molly?

Me: None of your business

Unknown: I don't care about you

Unknown: I just need crackqueen's payment. You're her wallet after all

FLASHBACK
-

Bokuto's twenty-two-year self became the father of Yuki. The cold washed over the city like the buildings were transparent. The sound of wind followed the previous fight the Bokutos got in. She was the mere reason his parents hadn't kicked him out of the house. If it weren't for his daughter, the youngest Bokuto would've been erased from the family home. The bicolored student spent most of his time on the roof. Most times, he wondered how many stars were concealed behind the clouds. It was calming to depersonalize after fighting with his parents.

Other times, it was calming to look down and wonder what peace laid six feet under the ground. Only a taller roof could guarantee the answer, and Bokuto knew that very well. He remembered his daughter every time he selfishly wished to die. Bokuto exhaled deeply, before his golden eyes met with the moon. The color palette of golden, and dark blue created a scenery anyone could appreciate. Bokuto considered it proof of how well he fitted with the sky, instead of living on the ground.

The despair of living didn't leave him with any tears. There were none left to cry. He considered letting the cold bite at his skin without interfering. Why would he care if it hurt?

"Koutarou?" He heard his older sister, Kasumi call from behind. He didn't budge, nor respond. Rather, her spy-like steps inched closer toward him. He allowed her to sit next to him and sniffled his nose to look more stable in front of his sibling.

"Mom doesn't get that you didn't choose this, I guess," Kasumi tried to lighten the mood. Koutarou scoffed, and quietly listened to anything she wished to say.

"Neither do I. Have you told me what happened? Do you want to please elaborate? I promise I will understand," Kasumi managed to ask, and put her hand on his back. Did he have the conscience to look into her eyes with the wish of dying?

He didn't.

Rather, it caused his heart to wrench and his eyes to blur and burn with salted tears again. He didn't want to remember the months up until Yuki was born. He also hated himself for it, so badly that death seemed deserving of him.

The encouragement worked. The younger man was tired of having death whisper in his head, over and over. He needed to talk. Perhaps it was all he needed after all.

One, he didn't want to remember the months up until Yuki was born. Two, he hated himself for it, so badly that death seemed deserving of him. How could one hate everything related to their child? He was working hard to build a fatherly bond with her. It was hard when his mother took care of her. It was hard to take care of her alone. Bokuto's fatherly life had started badly. It was his fault. He was trying so hard to give her a good start in life. Yet, here he was, crying over the months before Yuki's existence. The weight of the guilt beat gravity. He deserved nothing but void.

Void is what he got, as his mind blanked out. He was supposed to reply to his sister, wasn't he?

"Take your time. Please talk to me, I'm on your side. Mom and dad, they're just... old-fashioned, okay? You can talk to me instead," Kasumi insisted empathetically, with the intention of having her little brother open up. Kasumi inched closer as a gesture of comfort. Koutarou hadn't told her much about Yuki's mother, except her being severely ill. The half-truth didn't last enough to blanket his lies anymore. This particular fight forced him to yell that he didn't choose to be a father. From that sentence, she sensed there were unhealed wounds to treat.

Kasumi rubbed his back lightly in encouragement. The previous encouragement worked. The younger man was tired of having death whisper in his head, over and over. He needed to use his voice. Perhaps it was all he needed after all.

Koutarou eventually delved into being involuntarily drugged, and not remembering that night. The memory itself was marked in the dirt, and practically nonexistent. He only remembered the physical pain of hallucinating. It was no memory to be relished, though it dominated the reason for his poor mental health. It was ironic how a blurry memory carried so much darkness. Upon first looking toward his sister, he could tell she had a hard time keeping her composure. He could tell Kasumi wanted to lecture him for taking drinks from strangers. However, being the older sister could wait. Opening up was conditional, and his conditions were no scoldings.

"As far as I know, she never had postpartum depression. She relapsed on drug abuse, and eventually got caught," Koutarou summarized in one sentence. Her golden eyes widened, and her thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the information.

"You didn't need to li-"

"It's not my story to tell. I wasn't the only one who was drugged. She was, too. She's as much of a victim as I am," Koutarou shrugged his shoulders. His voice was still raspy from crying for god knew how long. His energy lowered along with his shoulders. He had no will to upkeep his bodily stress reactions. It said a lot.

The conversation was cut short, by the eldest sister, Masumi, opening the door. Kasumi eventually convinced her they should leave him alone for a while. He was grateful for being left on the roof. He was less thankful for being alive. Koutarou was sick and tired of everything, except his daughter. Some truths his parents told him made sense, little by little. Yuki was his mini-me, cure, and the only reason to live.

Koutarou's eyes involuntarily met with bright lights from underneath him. He forgot to have his phone on his lap. He had stormed off stating he'd call Kuroo and stay over at his place, and it was an unfulfilled statement. Rather, he was met with a notification from an unknown number. It took two text messages for Koutarou to identify the sender. Rather than being intimidated, Koutarou's tongue could taste the flavor of hatred. His own blood.



Unknown: Oi volley player

Unknown: Crack queen needs money from you

Me: You're the ones who made her one

Koutarou narrowed his eyes and finally distracted himself from his own cruel thoughts. He exhaled deeply through his nose, before watching the devil of his life reply.

Unknown: She's our loyal buyer. What was her name again? Molly?

Me: None of your business

He refused to humor them or acknowledge the imbecile joke.

Unknown: I don't care about you

Unknown: I just need crackqueen's payment. You're her wallet after all

Unknown: You got it easy, having the kid without drug addiction. You won't donate to your co-parent?

Unknown: You suck

Koutarou gulped, knowing very well how emotional blackmail and guilt tripping worked. However, he had stated it earlier. She was as much of a victim as him. They were equally fucked. The only difference was being traumatized.

Me: fuck off, i'm giving at my own pace.

Unknown: Good man. wish you luck on your next game.

Unknown: oh, you're welcome to buy something for volleyball.

Me:

Koutarou typed and removed letters in anger, to hopefully tick them off. However, he was a joke to the drug circle. He was a failed resource of money, that's all he was to them. He acknowledged the lack of value he had. They couldn't care less about his insults regardless of the severity, cleverly, etc.

Those messages were the background for occasional torment.
-

In the present day, Bokuto felt relieved over not receiving any more messages. The last time he gave them energy was months ago, and it lasted a shortly. Life was beautiful with Yuki, a career, a well-enough economy, and good friends.

It reminded him of being supposed to meet Akaashi soon. The two had spent much time over a relatively short period of time. It was nice to notice Akaashi grow comfortable around him. Bokuto willingly thought of Akaashi while doing his sit-ups.

He wasn't sure if a month had gone by, but time dispersed as their friendship evolved. Despite the scatter, it felt as if Bokuto had known him from high school. It was natural for him to form bonds, friendships, and relations with anyone. Bokuto never lost his ability or passion for other people. He could befriend a stranger on the train if he wanted to.

Bokuto instinctively took a small pause after his tenth sit-up and brought up his phone once again. Instead of a melancholic feeling, he soon found himself in a conversation with Akaashi.

Me: Any preference for a cocktail? I can do raspberry, peach, apple, strawberry, etc.

Bokuto was surprised by the fast reply. Wasn't Akaashi supposed to be at work? The man had a high position at Manga Matrix. However, he didn't necessarily complain.

Akaashi Keiji: Are you a fruit/berry person?

Bokuto chuckled at the question and felt completely exposed. He was supposed to proceed with the set but found himself distracted by fun texting.

Me: Admittedly, yes. I've tried enjoying a beer. I just can't, unless there's a sweet aftertaste.

Akaashi Keiji: Understandable. Drinking for the taste, rather than the intoxication is mature.

Me: Oh, that should be printed everywhere. My friend accepted whiskey from a stranger on the train and mixed it with his wine... just to get drunk

Akaashi Keiji: Wine.. and Whiskey.. ?????????????????????????????????????????

Me: yeah...

Akaashi Keiji: First..... a stranger??????????????????????? second, wine and whiskey ??????????????????????????????????????????????????

Me: I know

Akaashi Keiji: God, I hope he has a better relationship with alcohol now.

Me: I forced him into having a proper relationship with it now. He's grown up <3

Akaashi Keiji: Glad to hear it. You're a good influence!

Me: Of course, role models look up to me

Akaashi Keiji: Don't doubt it.

Akaashi Keiji: To answer your question. I'll take strawberry, peach, and mint for the nostalgia :)

Me: Aw, nostalgia <3

Akaashi Keiji: I'll see you tomorrow, though. Any preference for food?

Me: I'm not picky. I do pretty much everything. Learned that at the food hall right?

Akaashi Keiji: True.