Vivid Doses ; Iwaoi oneshots !

[ 01: grief / angst ]

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of self-harm and blood. Please please read at your own risk. If it makes you uncomfortable, don't read it.

[ one shot : grief / angst ]

if you could only hear the whispers
that toppled every shining idea
with a veil of terrible doubt

He tried to control it. Dammit, he always tried so hard.

Broken shadows, empty screens, scraped knees and a tired heart. That's how he went to sleep every night since the dreadful accident.

His food from the previous nights always clogged up his toilet bowls. There were more tears shed than attempts to rise at dawn. The curtains were never pulled away from his windows. They accumulated dust, regret and silence.

The kind of silence that was too quiet, it was terrorizing. Emptiness filled his heart. It was like a vacuum sucked out all his emotions, and he was left only with the echoes of the ticking clock, reminding him day and night still existed.

Otherwise, he'd be a decaying figure in darkness.

He'd drag himself to the stale bathroom tiles. His knees, which were filled with bruises and unwanted memories, would stop abruptly. He'd cry out in pain. He'd cry out all the air in his lungs until he was a desperate victim of pale blue lips and flooded eyes. The medication pills on top of his bathroom sink were never reached. They were tucked away, untouched, unopened.

Oikawa's chest would throb. Perhaps it was his heart realizing its state of isolation. It pounded on his chest to find some sort of refuge. For the boy who left him had cause such a terrible unbalance in his systems. His mind spiraled around that day, that dreadful, atrocious day.

He himself knew deep, deep inside, there was no more amity in his body. If his heart jumped out today and left him, he'd understand. If his heart decided it only bled in his body and wanted to leave him, then he'd understand.

He'd understand. Unconsciously. Numbly. But he'd understand. After all, that's all he could really do.

you'd understand why i fret
the light of dawn's smile.
it was pure, genuine and all in between,
yet, it was my mind that screamed of all its
ingenuity and counterfeit

Mattsun and Makki found him half-dead on his bathroom tiles one morning. They found the stale razor loosely laying on his palm. Beneath it was the aftermath of its rage. Blood spurring out like the sun's intoxicated state at dawn. Fresh crimson rays zigzagging  in different directions.

They immediately rushed him to the emergency room. Then they returned to his apartment and tidied up the place.

"Iwaizumi's death hit him hard," Makki murmured, finding clutter all over his lonely apartment. "Look at that. I don't think he's gotten a proper meal for days."

Mattsun scrunched his eyebrows. "Give him time to grieve. Just give him these couple of days."

"It's hurting him badly," Mattsun replied. "Iwaizumi wouldn't want that of him, I'm sure."

Upon fixing his belongings, they found a small picture of Oikawa and his late boyfriend out in the field. Both were eating watermelons drenched in crystalline drops of sweat, underneath the stinging summer sunlight, yet genuine smiles were plastered on their faces. A single glance at the photograph, you'd even hear Oikawa's boisterous laugh.

Iwaizumi. When that fatal bus accident took his life, it took away Oikawa's serenity, his being, his mannerisms, his love. He took away everything Oikawa was. He blamed himself for the accident, reasoning out that he could've fetched Iwaizumi from the airport. He could've saved his life if he wasn't too engrossed with freaking volleyball.