#resolve

[heybiji]

"Ghosts, isn't it?"

the session my human bard Clarette (who can hear ghosts) became an apologist for the tiefling paladin Resolve because she noticed a ghost was following Resolve, and thought maybe she could hear them too, so she approached her about it. and Resolve lied and implied she could hear them even though she can't. and what Clarette was hearing Resolve's ghost say was, well... a sad thing to not want to hear.

[mochinek0]

Reunion

No one from Françoise Dupont High School expected Marinette Dupain-Cheng to walk into the ten year reunion. As far as they knew, she hadn't been invited. Marinette strode in, with her head held high, and walked right up to Lila Rossi.

"I want to thank you for being such a bitch to me, Lila." Mari smiled, "You changed my life for the better."

"E-Excuse me?" Lila questioned.

'There' no way that forcing her out of school and isolating her gave her an amazing life!'

"That whole shit about telling people what they wanted to hear." Marinette began to explain, "I got really tired of defending myself and being told that I had to 'love you' to make you a better person by the staff. I got tired of being stacked with doing shit for free: all that babysitting I never said I would do, the banners, uniforms, clothes, fundraisers! It was exhausting for a fifteen year old."

Mari smiled, "Once you turned everyone against me, I realized how much free time I had! I signed up for homeschooling and worked extremely hard to graduate early. I even skipped a couple grades. It turned out that my husband's family were huge fans of my designs, so they offered to pay for my schooling if I moved."

"Husband?" Lila asked, concerned, "I didn't realize you had gotten married."

"Yeah." Marinette stated, "We met when I was seventeen and got married when I was nineteen; we have two kids."

Lila looked up and down at her arch-rival. Aside from a growth spurt and a larger chest, Marinette didn't look like she had changed at all. She looked like she was in her early twenties!

"So, thank you for bullying me." Marinette continued with a smile, "It was the best thing that could have happened to me."

Lila stayed silent. She didn't know what to say to that. None of her other victims had ever thanked her. She could feel eyes on them. She knew people were listneing in on their conversation. If she started to make a scene, it wouldn't end well.

"We'll, I'm married too!" Announced Lila.

"Oh, congrats." Marinette smiled, "Where is the lucky person?"

Lila spotted a tall, dark, and handsome man walk into the venue.

"There he is." Lila smiled.

Lila watched as her prey came towards them.

'Just a few more feet and I'll be able grab him. I'm sure he wouldn't mind playing along for a few minutes.'

Lila reached out a hand to grab him, when he put his arm around Marinette's waist and kissed her.

"Hello, Habibiti." he spoke.

"Everything okay without us at the company?" Mari asked.

He sighed, "Yes. It was just Grayson being himself."

Marinette giggled, "I'm sorry, Lila. This is my husband, Damian Wayne. Where were you saying your spouse is?"

Lila plastered a smile on her face, "They just stepped out. They had their cellphone out. It must be an important client. We're both models."

'There's no way she is married to this guy! The sooner she leaves, the sooner I can tell everyone I recognize him as an actor.'

Lila couldn't believe her luck. Adrien had just walked though the doors.

'Marinette was obsessed with him for years! Her fake marriage will be exposed and I can get the guy to stay with me. It doesn’t matter how much she paid him. I'm sure I could pay him more.'

"Marinette!" Adrien shouted.

He was quick to run over and hug her, pulling her away from her husband.

"Agreste, put my wife down." Damian growled.

Adrien turned his attention to Damian and froze.

"Hey, Wayne." He smiled, before looking around, "Where are the kids? Where's my neice and nephew?"

'Kids? They're really married and have kids?'

"They're with my parents, Adrien." Mari answered, "I'm sure they're being fed sugar and will pass out soon."

"So, is that an invite?" the model asked.

"To my parent's place for sweets?" Mrs. Wayne questioned, "You live here! They call me like once a week saying you were at the bakery!"

Adrien chuckled, "No. What about my time with the kids?"

Marinette looked to Damian, who shrugged. She turned to Adrien and shot him a look.

"Tell you what, you can see them in two days." she replied, "A whole day with Uncle Adrien."

'Uncle Adrien?'

"Really?" Adrien cried out, happily.

"But, you got to plan it." she answered.

"Disneyland Paris?" the Agreste heir suggested.

"Fine." Marinette growled, "But if you lose one of my kids, again, I will hurt you."

Adrien glanced towards Damian.

"Adrien, if you think my husband is scarier, just because you have seen his sword collection, you're wrong." Marinette Wayne declared, "You lose one of my children, I will hurt you worse than my husband could ever imagine."

"Got it." Adrien smiled, "Plan awesome VIP experience for the kids!"

"Great!" Mari smiled back.

"Man, you moving really toughened you up." the model winced.

"I punched my brother-in-law the first day there because I thought he grabbed my ass." Mrs. Wayne spoke.

"That is still one of my best days ever. No one has underestimated you since." Damian stated, before kissing her head.

"So, what are you doing here?" Adrien questioned, "Didn't you graduate like two years before us?"

"Oh, I just wanted to thank Lila for bullying me and getting me homeschooled." Marinette smiled, "It sucked that she bullied me, at the time, but if she hadn't done that, I wouldn't be with Damian and we wouldn't have our kids."

Adrien quickly turned to Lila, "Thank you for being a bitch to my best friend. I love my niece and nephew. Marinette, do you think we should get her like a fruit basket or something?"

Mari laughed, "We have dinner plans so we're gonna head out. Enjoy the reunion, Adrien."

Adrien took a step back and eyed Marinette's dress. It was a short black bodycon dress with puffy transparent sleeves. He eyed the black heels, warily.

"Dressed like that?" he questioned.

"Eyes on my wife's face, Agreste." Damian growled.

Adrien rolled his eyes, "She's all yours. I don't think I've ever seen you dressed like this, is all. You think you'll be able to take care of the kids dressed like that?"

Marinette answered, "They are staying with my parents tonight." before walking away.

Adrien watched as Damian placed his hand at Marinette's waist, likely making sure she didn't fall in those heels.

Adrien smiled, evilly, "Hey, Marinette!"

The designer turned to look back at her friend.

"I want another neice or nephew!" he shouted.

Marinette's face morphed from shock to embarassment, before she quickly glared at her best friend. She squeaked as she was quickly lifted into her husband's arms.

"Damian, you put me down!" she snapped at him.

"No." her husband responded.

"Why not?" she growled.

"Adrien won't get his wish if you're in jail for harming him." Damian smirked.

Marinette buried her face in her husband's chest and remained silent.

Adrien laughed as Marinette was carried out of the reunion. Nino walked up to him, confused.

"You….You kept in touch with Mari?" he questioned.

"Of course!" Adrien smiled, brightly, "I helped her with her math sometimes and she talks with Father about designing. She's my best friend."

"Designs?" Rose asked.

"Marinette is a fashion designer in the states." he answered, "Her husband's family runs an international company. She occasionally designs for their clothing line, but they do other stuff, too. Marinette has an office in their building, but she mostly does custom work. I think last year someone asked for a wedding dress. It was around $25,000."

"Seriously?" Alya asked, full of surprise.

"Oh yeah!" Adrien smiled, "She's an amazing deisgner. A lot of her dresses and suits have been coming out on runways and red carpet events."

"You're forgetting that she bullied Lila!" cried Sabrina, "She was mean to her! How can you be friends with her?"

"Actually, it was the other way around." Adrien stated, "Lila once claimed that Mari pushed her, after school, so hard that she injured her knee and was forced to walk home with a limp. I tried to tell you that Marinette couldn't have done it; Marinette had been with me the day before. You told me I was just confused. You never let me speak. You just decided Lila was right."

The class just stared at him.

'Had they really done that? Had they ignored Adrien when he tried to defend Marinette?'

"You never listened to me or Marinette when we told you about Lila being a lying bitch." he shrugged.

"But you're married!" Kim shouted, "How can you choose Marinette over a model?"

"I didn't. I'm bi and dating a male model from my father's company." Adrien announced, "Lila was fired when she was sixteen. Wasn't Lila held back a grade? Why is she even here? You didn't graduate with us or even from this school."

"It was a computer error!" Max spoke up, "Lila said that-

Adrien rolled his eyes, "Her mother called Natalie and declared she was owed a meeting with my father. She said we ruined Lila's future by forcing her to model. She threatened to sue the Gabriel brand until we showed her the 'signatures' on the forms. Turns out, Lila forged those so her mother's hands were tied. Her mother started shouting how she should send her to boot camp, back in Italy, as the left the house."

One by one they turned to look at Lila.

"i-I wanted to see everyone." she whispered, weakly, "I missed my friends."

"Thank for stopping by." Adrien stated, "You can leave now."

"Adrikins!" Chloe shouted.

"Chloe!" Adrien called back, "I missed you. We loved that spa treatment. You're the best!"

Chloe smiled and pulled Adrien away from the rest of the group to socialize with the other students.

"You still talk to that trash?" they heard Chloe ask.

"Rossi?" Adrien questioned, "Nah. You missed Marinette by a couple minutes. She came here and thanked Lila for being a raging bitch. The rest of them were still trying to kiss ass."

"The queen, herself, and I missed it." the Bourgeois heiress teased.

"Date night." Adrien quipped, "She brought Damian and the demon brigade."

"I missed the little ones?" she screeched.

Adrien laughed, "They're with her parents. Better book your time with them before they leave again. Oh, and Mari is already threatening bodily harm if anything happens to them."

"You lost one last time!" Chloe cried.

"I said I was sorry!" Adrien rebutted.

Chloe scoffed, "You're lucky you didn't die that day."

"I know." Adrien sighed, "Would it be weird if I put them on one of those kid leashes? I feel like they would fuck with me and purposely try to get lost to see me sweat, again. Honestly, I don't know if it's a mini Damian or mini Marinette. Don't get me wrong, Damian is frightening and he could probably work in the CIA torture room, but seeing Marinette pissed off, scares the living crap out of me. She's creative and could probably make something specifically to hurt me."

Chloe looked up from her phone, "I bought you the leashes. They'll be here tomorrow. You're welcome."

"Chloe." Adrien replied, "You didn't answer me."

"I was frenemies with her for years, Adrikins." Chloe answered, "Mari will find some way to hurt you and she wouldn't need her godly husband to do it. You have every right to fear for your life for pissing her off. Look at what happened to the idiot brigade: they believed a liar and bullied her. None of their dreams came true. The Waynes own half the companies those idiots wanted to work for. I wouldn't put it past Damian to rat those losers out to his family and have them blacklisted. You have seen how overprotective he is of their kids; he's the same way with her."

"True." Adrine sighed, "He still yells at me when I hug her."

"Idiot." Chloe declared, rolling her eyes.

The class looked at each other before pulling out their phones. They looked up Marinette and the Wayne family. The class shifted nervously as they realized what Chloe had said was true. The Waynes and Marinette owned their jobs. They were all comfortable with their jobs, but they weren't anything to brag about. They had all wanted bigger and better things at thirteen.

None of them were the doctors, rock stars, DJs, journalists, environmentalists, or the Olympians they thought they would be. They worked desk jobs or became something close to what they wanted. Lila knew she would never model again when Gabriel told her that he was going to blacklist her. The Waynes owned everything from food to biolabs to steel to shipbuilding and aerospace. Lila silently left the reunion as everyone came to terms that their dreams ended long ago.

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[pandora-books]

"She was quiet and shy until you saw firelight reflected in her eyes, and sometimes the flames were there in the absence of any fire to reflect."

Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment

[dk-thrive]

A feeling that something is coming, waiting to be born, out of this time. Almost physical, like before a period, or a pregnancy, or vomiting. Something is getting ready to resolve itself.

— Charlotte Wood, Stone Yard Devotional: A Novel (Riverhead Books, February 11, 2025)

[flyingwargle]

flufftober day 26: "i can't find it."

atsumu lost his hearing aids.

it isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last, although the last was in high school, when he had yet fully grasped how expensive they were. after he moved out, ma declared that he’s old enough to pay for them himself, and he thought he’d done well, so far. clearly not.

the case is usually on his nightstand, unless he brings them for an away game, and that’s exactly what happened. he didn’t wear them on the bus – he can’t hear anything over the engine, regardless – and went about his day in silence before falling asleep. it’s only now, right before his date with omi, that he notices their absence.

he lets out a dry chuckle. if the hotel contacts him, he won’t be able to answer, and if he somehow manages to ask to mail them back, it’ll take a few days. luckily, there isn’t practice until later in the week, so he should be safe…if he can contact them soon.

his phone vibrates in his hand. it’s omi. i’m at your door. can you not hear the bell?

definitely not. he hurries to unlock it, and omi stands on the other side, mask in place, dressed in casual clothes. his mouth moves, but atsumu quickly signs, “i lost my hearing aids. i can’t hear you.”

omi stops. he lowers his mask to say and sign, “you idiot. where?”

“the hotel. i think i left them on the nightstand.” they usually share a room for away games, but because they were in tokyo, omi stayed with his parents’ instead. atsumu didn’t hear his alarm and had to run for the bus, accustomed to having someone shake him awake.

“i’ll contact them, and ask if they can mail them. you don’t have replacements, do you?”

atsumu shakes his head. omi nods. “okay.” he steps out of his shoes and lines them along the genkan, making a beeline to the bathroom to wash his hands. when he returns, his phone is to his ear, lips moving as he speaks to whoever is on the line.

today, they planned a visit to the outdoor art exhibit at the park, lunch at onigiri miya, and a visit to the farmer’s market to buy groceries for dinner. it’s still doable, atsumu thinks – he’ll have to endure osamu’s teasing, unfortunately – but he waits for omi to finish before he signs, “are we still good for today?”

omi gives him a look. “yeah. why wouldn’t we?” he lowers his arms, waits a beat before he signs, “the hotel has your hearing aids. they’ll mail it back today, and it’ll arrive in a day or two.”

“okay. thanks, love.” atsumu smiles at the blush reddening his partner's cheeks, chuckling when omi shoves him toward the bedroom so he can finish changing.

a few minutes later, they’re on their way to the art exhibit. omi keeps his mask tucked beneath his chin, using both hands to sign back while atsumu uses one hand. neither of them are familiar with art, but it’s their middle ground because the exhibits aren’t usually crowded, so they can hear each other make comments about the different works.

the outdoor exhibit is free, organized by the local art society. many are ikebana displays, with some artwork and statues. each have a placard for them to read, and atsumu stops omi to point at an ikebana display meant to represent a thunderstorm. “that looks cool,” he signs. omi nods in agreement.

out of the corner of his eye, he spots a couple watching them, mouths agape. there are always people watching whenever he signs, as if they’ve never seen jsl before – and maybe they haven’t. atsumu ignores them the best he can, but omi catches the stiffness in his movements, notices the couple over his shoulder. his lips move as he calls out to them, and the couple quickly moves away. omi turns back to him, signing, “let’s look at those paintings over there.”

they finish looking around, and start their way to onigiri miya. atsumu holds onto omi’s hand, keeps his other hand in his pocket, self-conscious. omi, as if sensing his reluctance, communicates with him through gentle strokes of his thumb across his hand, small squeezes, and eye contact. it’s their own language, quiet reassurances of one another’s presence.

omi slides the restaurant door open. the lunch hour has passed, and osamu is behind the bar, greeting them with a characteristic grimace at his twin, and atsumu is grateful that he can’t hear whatever insult osamu came up with today. until omi signs, “this idiot lost his hearing aids” and osamu is quick to catch his eye and sign, “you’re a scrub.”

“fuck you, too,” atsumu retorts. osamu grins, gestures for them to sit, and gets to work.

“hope you’ve been getting some peace,” osamu signs one-handed while speaking to omi. “’tsumu becomes non-verbal without his hearing aids.”

“i noticed,” he replies. “to be honest, i miss his voice.”

“aw, ya just had ta say so,” atsumu says. the disconnect between speaking but not hearing himself is uncanny, with how he feels his jaw move, lips shaped into vowels, but all that comes is a garbled mess that he can only hope sounds like what it’s supposed to be. “can’t go a day without me yappin’, huh?”

osamu motions at him. “don’t force yourself.” that’s code for yer tryin’ too hard. in the early days when he just got his hearing aids, he would force himself to speak despite struggling with tones and speech patterns, and was often bullied as a result. he wouldn't have learned jsl if osamu didn't learn alongside him.

“i can wait until you’re comfortable speaking to hear your voice,” omi adds, signing to atsumu. “we can still talk like this.”

“not when we’re eating,” he complains, gesturing at osamu wrapping their onigiri.

“you don’t need two hands to eat, do you?” osamu signs, passing over a plate of negitoro onigiri. “yours is next, sakusa.”

he continues to sign one-handed while he works, and so does atsumu, but omi, who isn’t as fluent, uses both hands. a few customers watch as they exit, and atsumu feels the weight of their stares on his back, but osamu is quick to raise his head and say goodbye, an effective dismissal. atsumu is grateful, throwing him a lopsided thanks on his way out, ducking under the noren after omi.

“it’s okay if you want to skip the market,” omi signs, turning to him. “we can order takeout instead.”

atsumu shakes his head. “i’m fine, just feeling a bit shy. it’s been a while since i only used sign.”

“don’t be. we communicate in different ways, and jsl is one of them. we could talk shit and no one would know.”

of course his partner would be mischievous like that. atsumu grins. “you’re right.”

the afternoon is more fun, now that atsumu signs unabashedly, although omi catches about half of what he says, and it turns into a pseudo-lesson as they browse the fresh produce, seaweed, and homemade goods. they return to atsumu’s apartment with bags full of ingredients for dinner and treats to share, cooking together with a mixture of sign, shouts, and wild gestures at steaming pots, waving knives, and mimed actions.

it's fun and chaotic, only possible thanks to his lost hearing aids. although atsumu would love to hear his partner, this is fine too. if omi can wait to hear him, then he can wait, as well.

[under-the-knife]

Finding Euphoria // Cane Hill

[noneaazures]

dgs2 spoilers

Two birds with one stone

[kafkasapartment]

On the plains of hesitation lie the blackened bones of countless millions who at the dawn of victory lay down to rest, and in resting died.

Adlai Stevenson

[atmagics]

RESOLVE pt 1

Manga Volumen 1 chap 3. Anime ep 3.

[cool-frog-hours]

Final from my Intro to Comics class <3 💖🩵

Me n my gm’s horrible gay sons, having a time after getting booted from a cursed knife mini dimension (dont ask unless u want like five pages worth of exposition)

[hiddenincommand]

“Resolve is silent, yet unyielding. It is not the roar of victory, but the quiet persistence that bends the course of destiny. True power lies in the discipline of daily actions, in the steadfast commitment to excellence, and in the refusal to falter when the path grows steep. Strength is not declared; it is forged in silence and revealed through triumph.”

[mamangasick]

Bleach

Tite Kubo

[pandora-books]

"For a flower to blossom, she needs to feel the wind and face the rain, too."

From Hotel del Luna, written by Hong Jung-eun and Hong Mi-ran

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

[flyingwargle]

whumptober day 1: panic attack

tw: panic attacks

iwaizumi knew today is going to be a bad one from the moment he woke up.

every step is akin to torture, leaden limbs refusing to cooperate with even the slightest movement. his gaunt expression stares back at him in the mirror, faintly encouraging him to take a day off. this wouldn't be the first time, nor the last, but the team has a practice match after school. their ace can't afford a mental health day, not when victory is on the line.

"morning, iwa-chan!" oikawa meets him on the corner of their block, a routine they've had since they were old enough to walk to school together. his best friend's chipper expression falls at iwaizumi's slumped shoulders and downturned eyes. "you look awful, even worse than usual. bad day?"

he nods. oikawa's smile is small, stretching his arm toward him. iwaizumi takes his hand, reassured by its strength, and lets him guide him to school.

morning practice is on the lighter side, which iwaizumi is grateful for. it's easy to turn his brain off for drills, guided by muscle memory and instinct. oikawa isn't as loud as usual, which is his teammates' cue that their ace is at the mercy of his anxiety, curbing their exuberance for his benefit.

at the end of practice, they change into their uniforms and head for the school building. oikawa hands iwaizumi a protein bar, leaves him with a gentle pat on the shoulder when they separate to their respective classrooms.

the buzz in his mind worsens as the day passes. iwaizumi doesn't retain anything from his lectures, barely takes any notes. at lunch, he stares at his bento while oikawa, hanamaki, and matsukawa chatter, ultimately reaching for the lid to put it away, untouched. that causes all conversation to cease, earning him an incredulous look from oikawa. "what?"

"you have to eat, iwa-chan," he says, stopping his hand. "we had morning practice, and a game after school. you need the energy."

"i'm not-"

"did you take your meds?" hanamaki asks.

he shakes his head. “they make me drowsy. i can’t fall asleep now.”

"i think that's better than this," matsukawa comments, gesturing with his chopsticks. "you aren't in any condition to play, anyway."

"i'll be fine," iwaizumi insists. "hanamaki is still out with his rolled ankle, and kunimi is absent. what kind of message are we sending, if all our regular spikers aren’t on the court?”

“it’s just a practice match,” oikawa points out. “it isn’t the end of the world, iwa-chan.” and yet, he can’t help but feel like it is, a tremor shaking his body at the idea of sitting out because of his anxiety. he isn’t that fragile. he can push passed this.

or so he thinks.

the end of the school day comes, and iwaizumi is back in the gym. jouzenji will arrive in an hour; in the meantime, he hardens his expression, directs his underclassmen and speaks with oikawa to finalize their line-up. “iwa-chan, you-“ he turns away, ignoring the rest of oikawa’s words to help their managers with the practice bibs.

jouzenji arrives, and after a quick warm-up, the match begins. iwaizumi starts in the back row, ready to receive. his heartbeat echoes in his ears, nearly drowning the whistle. the serve goes up, the ball flying across the net straight toward him.

shit, the ball is flying straight toward him. panic rises in his chest, raising his arms to receive, but it’s at an awkward angle, and it bounces out of bounds. the first point comes to jouzenji.

his heart lurches at the astonished looks around him. matsukawa claps his hands. “don’t mind,” he calls out. watari echoes him. the others turn away. iwaizumi gives a quick apology, avoiding oikawa’s eye.

watari picks up the second serve, and oikawa sets the rhythm. they go back and forth, and iwaizumi is rotated to the front. matsukawa serves, their opponents picking it up. matsukawa receives their spike, and iwaizumi makes his approach. he jumps, raises his arm. his fingers barely brush the ball.

it falls back on their side. iwaizumi looks at oikawa, hands still over his head. “iwa-chan-“ he tries to say.

“sorry. i’ll score the next one.” his limbs are still so heavy. same with his chest.

after a few rallies, he’s jumping for the spike again. a triple block rises over him, the ball floating in front of him. he musters his strength and spikes, a satisfying smash that echoes in his ears. except, the ball rebounds off the block and back onto the court. a point for jouzenji.

a chorus of don’t mind! arises. iwaizumi braces himself on his knees, breathless. he hears his opponents murmur behind him. are you sure that’s seijoh’s ace? was he always this pathetic? there are snickers and declarations of victory. his team is three points behind, jouzenji the first to reach 20. he hasn’t scored a single point, squandering every chance, being absolutely useless–

“iwaizumi.”

coach. he beckons him with his finger, and iwaizumi stumbles toward him. “i don’t want you to play in this condition. take a break.”

“i’m fine, i just–“

“it isn’t a suggestion, but an order. sit out.”

iwaizumi freezes. his replacement takes his place on the court. instead of sitting with hanamaki on the bench, he drags his feet to the locker room, shoving the door open, and sinking onto the nearest bench.

the anxiety that’s been building since the moment he woke up finally claims him.

his breaths are short. the air is sweltering. his chest hurts with every gasp, tears at the corners of his eyes. he squeezes them shut, tries to count his breaths like his therapist taught him, but his thoughts run rampant, a deafening symphony that makes him feel smaller and smaller.

you’re useless. you just left your team behind without scoring a single point. what kind of ace are you? useless, failure, don’t deserve to play, weak, weak, weak–

“hajime.” a voice cuts through the darkness, a bridge of light through the spiral. “hajime, listen to me, okay? let’s get your breathing under control, hm?”

iwaizumi gasps like a fish out of water. the voice is unperturbed, counts his breaths with a measured tone. a hand rests on his back, rubbing counterclockwise circles. “you’re doing well,” the voice soothes. a handkerchief touches his cheeks to dry his tears. “you’re safe with me, iwa-chan. you’re doing so well.”

that makes him open his eyes. he’s still in the locker room, oikawa seated beside him, still in his practice uniform, #1 bib over his shirt. iwaizumi tries to speak, his words caught in his throat. oikawa places a finger on his lips, shaking his head. “don’t talk, just breathe. it’s just us. take your time.”

the last of his panic recedes, leaving him boneless, as always. iwaizumi leans against oikawa, fresh wave of tears springing in his eyes. “why’re you here?” he rasps.

“do you really think i’d keep playing, knowing my best friend is having a panic attack? yahaba-chan is a good setter, you know. mattsun can take care of the team; we’re heading home.”

“what? but-“

“no buts. we’re going home and you’re going to take your meds. i asked makki to text auntie what happened, so she’ll make your comfort food, and i’ll feed you. then, you’re going to sleep. i’d say take a bath too, but that can wait.” oikawa turns to him, expression solemn. “it was dumb of you to play like this, iwa-chan. just because you aren’t physically hurt doesn’t mean you can pretend you’re fine.”

iwaizumi deflates. he used to give oikawa so much shit about overworking, but when it came to his own mental health, he always pushed through, even if it left him exhausted or worse, panicked. “sorry,” he mumbles.

oikawa shakes his head. “there’re more matches, you know. it’s okay to sit out when you have to. ready to go?” he stands first, supporting iwaizumi every step through changing and then out of the locker room. they leave with the match to their backs, the sounds of the court reminding iwaizumi of what’s to come, but only if he cares for himself better.

he’ll learn. he has to.