Nothing Without You

Tetsurou Kuroo's Life

- toxicity
- siblings issues

As a teenager, I was surrounded by friends in high school, but when I reached university there was one particular friendship that blossomed unexpectedly at the train station. My school was quite a distance away, so I relied on the train for my daily commute. It was there that I met her – my train station friend.

At first, our interactions were brief and casual, just two strangers waiting for the train. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, our encounters became more frequent. We started chatting, sharing stories about our lives, our dreams, and our fears. Before I knew it, she had become a constant presence in my daily routine, a source of comfort and companionship amidst the hustle and bustle of the station.

Our friendship deepened with each passing day, and I found myself looking forward to our chance meetings more than anything else. We laughed together, confided in each other, and slowly but surely, we became inseparable.

But all good things must come to an end, they say. She never showed up to the train station and when graduation day arrived, I was forced to move on. We promised to stay in touch, but life had other plans, and before long, we lost contact.

I searched for her, longing to reconnect with the friend who had meant so much to me. I would visit the train station whenever I had the chance, hoping against hope that she would appear once more.

And then, one day, it happened. There she was, standing on the platform, her school uniform a stark reminder of the time we had spent together all those years ago. In that moment, everything clicked into place, and I knew her name – Y/N. Even though we had known each other for a while I didn't really asked for her name.

As I formed a deep connection with Y/N at the train station, my life outside those moments became increasingly tumultuous. I was in a long-term relationship with my girlfriend, but it was toxic, suffocating, and draining. We brought out the worst in each other, and the strain was palpable.

The day I met Y/N, everything changed. It was as if a ray of light had pierced through the darkness, illuminating the possibility of something different, something better. We shared stories about our lives, our hopes, our dreams, and in those fleeting moments at the train station, I found solace in her presence.

But as our friendship blossomed, I couldn't shake the guilt gnawing at me. I was still entangled in my toxic relationship, while Y/N had her own boyfriend, someone that went to my school. Despite the obstacles, our connection only grew stronger, fueled by shared laughter, secret glances, and stolen moments on the train platform.

The only time we could truly be together was during our evening commute home. We would linger on the platform, reluctant to part ways, stealing every precious moment we could before our trains arrived. Sometimes, I would even walk her home, relishing in the opportunity to spend a few extra minutes in her company.

But with each passing day, the strain of my toxic relationship grew more unbearable. My girlfriend became increasingly frustrated and jealous, accusing me of neglecting her for someone else. We would argue, shout, and hurl hurtful words at each other, but in those moments, all I could think about was Y/N.

I knew I was being unfair to my girlfriend, that I was neglecting her needs and disregarding her feelings. But I couldn't help myself. My heart belonged to Y/N, and no amount of guilt or rationalization could change that.

Looking back, I realize just how toxic I was at the time, how I allowed my own desires to cloud my judgment and hurt those closest to me. But in Y/N's presence, I found a glimmer of hope, a reason to believe that things could be different, that I could find happiness outside the confines of my toxic relationship.