#does he regret keeping Kou so sheltered?

[daily-terus]

[dothewrite]

Hi, I really love all your angst scenarios and was wondering if I could request one? What would Lev and Bokuto do if their s/o who was on the chubbier side and had bad insecurities saw the guys talking to a girl and got the wrong idea then ran away from home to go into the Aokigahara forest to run away from their problems and the guys don't realize they're missing until a day later so they go out to look for her? Please and thank you ^^

No holds barred on the angst department. I decided to take this seriously: when your significant other decides to run into a forest famous for suicides (and all that it implies), and you can do nothing but search. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it, even if it’s a little somber.

Everyone you’ve ever met have talked about the forestlike a ghost, an empty, cursed entity, singing the song of sirens and luringyoung men and women into its grasp like a spider web. To you, it feels nothinglike a web at all. The leaves are too damp underneath your bare feet for thereto be any crunching, the trunks too close together for you to see past thegentle fog caressing your skin.

For the first time in a long time, you feel welcome,this collection of lonely souls and trees that have seen the worst of humanity.You’re not running, you’re walking, and time seems to let you know that it’spassing by slowly without you from the sounds of the birds.

It’s a quiet afternoon, and you’ve lost track of howlong you’ve been wandering.

The worn hoodie around your shoulders is probably theonly good decision you’ve made in days, but what simmers in you doesn’t feellike regret. It feels like safety, like bubble wrap, and although you’re soalone you can hear your own breathing out here, you feel more like a personthan ever.

Your makeshift camp a few feet behind you, you leavereadily behind, a small fruit in your hand for the endless, pointless journey.It still hurts, your chest still heaves underneath an invisible weight, but youcan’t see any of it right now. There are no parents, no grades, no friends, no mirror: it needn’t have to bereflective. It’s faster to see what you aren’t, what you could have been, whenyou look at Bokuto around people asblinding as he is.

She wasbeautiful, you confess to yourself with a spiritual sort of ease, and it’s onlynatural. Beautiful things gravitate to beautiful things; such is the naturalorder of the universe, and you’re an anomaly that you can’t forgive.

Bokuto,he makes you forget a lot of things, things that you shouldn’t forget and comeback to haunt you when he’s gone. When that undiscerning, brilliant smile isturned onto more deserving recipients and you crumble, because it’s the onlything left for you to do.

The fog lessens around you like a veil being pulledback, and for a moment your heart sings from the kindness of a forest that hasonly known death; death, but amid all this life. You take a seat underneath asmall dip in the ground, a large rock becoming a temporary shelter as yougather your thoughts.

It’s too easy to forget that you’ve left. How longwould it take for your parents to call the police? Would they miss you? Wouldthey miss you? Would your friendsnotice? Would your phone be found? Would Bokuto be sad?

He shouldn’t, you think, he should fall back into theorder of the universe. It doesn’t even hurt much when you perch on anyassortment of branches or trunks, your roundness padding most of the pressureand you can’t even decide whether to feel disgusted, or pleased, in a strange,hysterical sort of way.

Hysterical is the first word you choose when you beginto hear twigs snapping and a loud crashing through the woods near you. Yourfirst instinct is to leap up and search for an escape, but you only jerkforwards once, and sit back down. With your size, it would be impossible tododge whatever wanted to make a meal out of you. You weren’t a lithe runner ontrack and field, and you didn’t exercise.

It’s rather fitting, isn’t it? This was the woods ofthe suicidal, and here you were, finally fitting in. You’re aware there’s asoft smile on your face, and you sit, and wait.

“It’s you!”You freeze. This was a voice you knew, the only possible voice that could havemade it this far alone without any help at all. The voice you didn’t want tohear, and how undeniably alive itsounds scars you.

His hair appears first, white and black against thecool greens and browns, and the rest of him follows, all muscle and desperationthat unnerves you despite your zen. Bokuto’s golden eyes are blazing withunrestrained frenzy when he finally gets an unobstructed view of you, andyou’ve never felt so unattractive in your life.

“Y-you,” he huffs, fists trembling by his sides,“t-that isn’t nearly enough clothing! Are you warm? H-how long have you beenhere? Why didn’t you call me?” All the questions come at the same time, andyour mind is flooded with the fact that hestill cares, and God forgive you for your weakness but you’re crying andyou don’t give a damn about stopping yourself.

Bokuto cuts himself off when he sees the big, fattears roll down your cheeks and he starts towards you like a man on a mission.He’s not wearing much himself, but he takes off whatever top he does have on,and you’re wrapped with an extra three layers without even a word spoken.You’re melting before you know it, and he’s holding you to his chest, fingersgripping onto you like his anchor.

“You’re breathing really hard,” you mutterunhelpfully, and he squeezes you in retaliation.

“Of course,I had to run all the way here! It took me hours,and I have to get back before sunset otherwise your parents will start askingpeople questions- did you know how many strings I had to pull to save your assfrom them?” Bokuto rarely curses at you, but you take it with silence. Youdeserve it this time, and no amount of cursing can cover up how much more he’sshaking compared to you.

He doesn’t fit in, the forest seems to cry, and theman around you is the most colour, most life to be found in miles. You don’tlike how the fog laps at his ankles, nor the way the empty wind blows againsthis hair and pulls down any stray locks it can get a hold of. It’s trying tosuck Bokuto away, but all that he is, he’s giving it all to you in his grip.

“You- you don’t fit in here,” and it sounds a lotworse aloud than it did in your head, but Bokuto only nods against your head,his chin bumping on the crown of your head.

“I… I don’t like the way it feels like it wants totake me,” he says quietly, and you press your arms around him too, “but I foundyou, so I’m okay with that.”

You guess that there wasn’t much left of you to suckaway to begin with. The forest knows what’s theirs, without lifting a finger.

“We should get you out of here,” you whisper, “it’snot good for you.”

Bokuto pulls away only very slightly and his gazelocks you in your seat, your lungs stopping mid-breath. His golden eyes start aforest fire in you.

“Are you coming with me?”

You look down, but his fingers on your chin force youback up. After a solid day of running, here’s when you must face your fate.This forest was never meant for someone alive, after all, and your choice wouldpresent itself to you sooner or later. Where he looks, your limbs return tolife, and there is no reckoning more undeserving than Bokuto in the flesh.

His lips part, you inhale, and he asks you again: “areyou coming with me?”

You don’t notice how hard he’s holding onto you-perhaps you bruise, perhaps you don’t, but your soul feels battered and there’snothing but dregs left for you to deny such a force. You nod weakly, he glows,and you despair.

There’s nothing left to be said. He pulls you up witha hand, and he keeps you in front of him as he makes his way back, almost as ifafraid that you’ll vanish if he turns away for a moment. There’s no tellingwhich way you’re headed, but Bokuto has his hands placed firmly on yourshoulders that twist with each misstep, and somehow, the light at the edges ofthe forest grow sharper and sharper until the fog is almost gone, and you areonly a few steps away from that which you had run away from.

“Bokuto-“ you stop so suddenly that he almost tripsover you. Bokuto immediately turns you around, and looks over you withsearching glances.

“What’s wrong? We’re almost there.”

“I-“ you’re stuck, and you touch at your throatpraying that the words will leave it, “I don’t- can’t; Bokuto, I-“

He dips forward, and you know that he knows. Your handis half raised, ready to mimic the gesture of seeing him off, and he wraps hisblistered fingers around yours. Now there’s no movement to make, and he’s holdingon to you so you can’t run.

It’s hard for someone always bathed in light to ignorehow sharply the shadows cut.

“We’ll talk, I promise,” he begs you, without begging,and you don’t know if he’s pleading or if he’s telling, “I’ll listen, I’m sorryfor all the times I didn’t listen. Will you talk to me? Will you give me onemore chance?”

“It-it was never you, Kou-“

“More than what relationship we have,” he interrupts,this time he’s the one looking down, but you have no free hand to push his chinback up for him, “I’d never forgive myself if I ever let you go without knowingyou. We’re friends, before anything,right? I love you, as a person, and I don’t want to lose you without askingwhy.”

He’s crying.

“Please.”

He’s also giving you a choice. A choice between lifeand death, between solitude and vulnerability- and beyond any of your actualchoices, he’s giving you freedom, andthat’s more than anything you’ve had in a very long time. Hating yourself isn’ta choice. Wanting to die isn’t a choice. Being chased isn’t a choice, but beingwith Bokuto is.

“Okay,” you tell him, and you’re crying now too.“Okay, let’s go back and talk.”

He’s crying even harder, but he’s also smiling, andyou pull him closer to you. You don’t feel like the strong one at all, but you’llgive him anything he needs, all the things you don’t have.

“Let’s go back,” his voice cracks, and you tug on hishand to let him know that you’re ready.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“I know,” Bokuto replies, all nasally from his stuffednose, “I’m sorry too.”

Levdoesn’t think that he’s insensitive. He doesn’t think that he’s particularlyunobservant either, because volleyball’s a difficult sport, and he’s doingalright.

Right?

There’s a rage that grows in him the more he thinksabout how he’s not anything, and hecan’t stop his shaking. He doesn’t know what it’s from, maybe it’s fear fromthis terrible forest that doesn’t seem to leave him alone- but he can feel theway his calves tremble with each step he takes, and his hands are tremblingwhen he places them on a tree trunk for support.

Or maybe it’s from how exactly alone he feels,surrounded by the absence of so many past people, and he feels sick to hisstomach trying to imagine how you must feel right now. He’s your phone in hisleft hand, too afraid to put it in his pocket in case it disappears just likeyou did, and he holds it closer to himself like a guiding beacon.

You had never put a password on your electronics, soit had been easy enough to unlock it and read your note entries. When he had firstnoticed your prolonged radio silence, Lev had been annoyed, because how wouldhe know what he did wrong this time? You rarely gave him the cold shoulder, andprecisely because this week had been going so well for him (Kuroo even let himoff early on Wednesday practice), it had just been that extra bit of unfair-did you of all people have to put adamper on his mood? Six hours later, when he’d decided enough was enough, he’dcalled your home to see if you’d holed yourself up there, and your mother had toldhim you’ve been out at your captain’s house for a few days. Now that had justbeen a new level of irritating.

“It’snice to hear from you again, Lev,” he remembers your mothersaying, “but I’m rather surprised shehasn’t told you.” It was a surprise alright. He had been in a fury, andeven Kenma had shown concern when he had texted him out of the blue about howangry he was. Lev had no idea who your captain was- you rarely talked abouther, and to tell the truth he was marginally interested in tennis at best, sohe’d sat there, hugely annoyed, for the better part of three hours until hismother had called him down for dinner.

He remembered that he’d thought ‘what a pain’ it wasto have a girlfriend. The third years like to go on about how it’s great to dateand all that, and yes, he has funwith you around, but how can this feel so crap? He’d gone down and declaredsomething along the lines of ‘love is suffering’ to his parents, and they’djust looked at him knowingly, which annoyed him even more. Adults, and how theypretend to know what’s going on.

Lev’s lost now, and he’s panting even though the airis unnaturally chilly against his translucent skin. The trees look exactly thesame as they had a good fifteen minutes ago, and he’d possibly tripped on thesame tree root twice. He has to take a deep, deep breath to stop himself frombursting into tears. It feels like he’s been walking in circles- always been walking in circles, dancingaround his own ego like a children’s song and he folds his legs underneath himand cradles your phone in both hands.

If he had taken less time to get to his feet. If hehad decided to look for you just a few hours sooner. If he had gotten overhimself quicker, had stormed to your house earlier, had actually searched foryou instead of stare angrily at your untouched bedroom, he might have noticedit faster. If he had paid attention to you, he might have learned about yousooner, understood you more, and maybe having a girlfriend would still bepainful, but a different kind. A kind where it would be shared, instead ofalone and creeping away in the darkness of the evening. Lev sits alone andwonders how much blindness it must have taken him for him to have noticedutterly nothing about you.

Lev’slate at practice today. He has a practice tournament next week, so I shouldn’tdisturb him. Maybe I’ll text him goodnight later. We’ll see.

Lev’sspending time with Kenma this weekend. Maybe Hinata is there too. Should I makehim lunch?

Lev’spretty busy lately. I guess I shouldn’t call him tonight. I’ll walk home bymyself today.

Twoof my friends asked if I’ve seen Lev lately. I haven’t.

Isaw him talking to a really pretty girl this afternoon. She’s a year above, Ithink. I don’t think she does sports, she’s too slim for that.

Lev’stalking to someone else today. He told me to go on ahead, so I’m going homenow. I don’t think I’ll call him tonight either.

SometimesI wish I could tell him.

Lev’stalking to Fukurodani’s manager- she’s a lot skinnier than I am. I’m probablynot very good at tennis because I’m too fat.

Iwent home by myself today. I didn’t see Lev leave practice.

He has an urge to bury your phone into the very groundnext to him, smother it with dirt so far down that it’ll be a grave fit for hisown sins, but he’s shaking too much to dig. His fingers are too numb from thecold for him to really do much too, so they keep on pressing ‘next’ on yourphone. Next. Next. Next.

He’d pressed the same buttons in your room too. It wasquiet without you in it, and it had been the first thing he’d noticed on yourdesk. Lev clearly remembers flitting through your short diary entries and goingthrough them a second, a third time, his chest growing tighter and tighter witheach rerun of everything that he hasn’t noticed.

Lev pauses, and glances at your storage. There areother folders, things besides ‘Lev Haiba’. There are ‘Family’, ‘Tennis’,‘School’, ‘Me’ and ‘Nothing’. Hedoesn’t dare press the other ones. He’s tried, of course he’s tried, but eachtime his fingers hover over the little button, something in him gives and hepresses into his own folder again. Perhaps it’s his conscience, long-lost, likea prodigal son too late for his father’s funeral.

He gets to his feet, and keeps searching.

He’s too afraid of the silence to break it, so yourname goes uncalled. Instead he cries it in his mind, in shouts, in screams, inmurmurs, in whispers, and along with it goes his apologies owed to you, and heprays that if he never finds you, his thoughts might have a fighting chance.

Ifhe never finds you. Maybe this is a race- to see who diesfirst, in the place where things end.

Just then, something in the forest shifts. The treesseem to murmur amongst themselves and the moss under his feet solidifies intosomething less slippery, and Lev can take purchase on branches that he’dslipped off just minutes before. He’s not sure what changed, or if anything hadchanged at all and it wasn’t just his adrenaline waking up, but the circlesseem longer and longer until they’re no longer circles.

He comes across a strange arrangement of branches thathe’s never seen before, and he’s so filled with relief that he doesn’t considerthe implications that he might be headed somewhere he doesn’t want to be.Another step, and Lev only thinks about how he wants to find you, even if it’sjust to say sorry, even if he comes back from this forest with less than he hadgoing in.

The forest doesn’t dim nor brighten no matter the timeof day. Lev’s muscles tell him that it’s been a long period of time he’s beenlost in this forest of suicides, but nothing around him changes much.

“Lev?”

Lev almost trips, and for a silly moment he wonders ifhe’s starting to hear things or if ghosts really exists and he’s fucked, but heturns, and he doesn’t have to search much. You stand right beside a ratherhomely looking tree that stretches on for miles upwards, and Lev almost fallsto his knees.

“I foundyou,” he breathes. You look so normal, all bundled up and ready for the chill-nothing like the wretched mess he’d imagined you to be in his mind. You’resmiling at him, a little oddly, a little sadly, and Lev’s lips twist as hestarts to cry.

You look mildly alarmed at that, and dance forwards totake his hands in yours.

“Are you alright?” You ask, and he feels undeservingto even answer.

He does, anyway. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I- I just can’tbelieve I found you.”

“You were lookingfor me,” you say with a small laugh, “it’d be a bit disappointing if you didn’tfind me.”

He feels a familiar spark of annoyance at that, at howyou’re laughing when he’s beenspending what could be days in this godforsaken place in utter terror andregret. Still, if he’s learned anything from wandering alone, he keeps histongue and his temper in check.

“I could’ve gotten lost. You could’ve gotten lost. Doyou know what this place is for? I thought the worst!”

“Of course,” you blink, “I thought I was the nativehere, Mr. Russian?”

“Half,” heanswers snappily. “I was really worried! Please be serious right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. Lev doesn’t notice yourhand sneaking into his and prying out your phone from his death-grip until it’sdone. He keeps his silence as you stare at it, a little dazed and a littleempty.

“You had this?”

Lev nods reluctantly. “I found it on your table.”

“You read it, then.”

“I… yeah. Sorry if I shouldn’t’ve.”

You shake your head, and the smile is back despite itbeing even more sad than before. Lev doesn’t like the sudden transience yourframe seems to take on, and he has a terrible feeling that you’ll disappearinto the woods if he says the wrong words. He holds onto your hand more tightlyjust in case.

“Can we go home?” It takes him a heave of his chest toask you. When he does, he can feel his lip tremble at your hesitation, at yoursilence. It’s selfish, but he doesn’t want to hear an answer he doesn’t want-he’s not ready, he doesn’t know if he should pull you with him, pick you upscreaming and crying-

“Yeah,” and his heart stops, “let’s go home.”

He’s probably still crying, he can’t tell, but you’resmiling a little more, a little more sadly,and all he can do is open his mouth and close it again. He nods, and starts towalk the way he had come.

There’s no resistance from you as your hand is stillheld, lax, in his and although he’s walking ahead of you, each throb of yourpulse underneath his index finger is his thread out of the labyrinth.

You’re silent, and he’s silent because of it. He doesn’tknow what he’ll find at the end of the string. The phone is forgotten in yourfree hand, and all Lev knows to do is to keep praying- pray that he’ll able todo all the things he’d failed before your diary entries.

The forest doesn’t hold him back, and Lev suspectsthat he knows why. He’s learned now, that there are more frightening thingsthan ghosts in the dead woods.