Karasuno Fight {One Shot Book}

Big Boys Don't Cry

NOTE: There is a small mention/description of an anxiety/panic attack.

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He's no stranger to crying.

He's cried a lot in lifetime, whether happy tears, sad tears, angry tears. He's probably cried every type of tear in existence. He's no stranger to "the norm." He knows that boys are supposed to be brave, strong, and tough, never showing emotions in front of other people. That they're supposed to be the walls that the soft, weak, and helpless hide behind.

But even as he remembers this, the words and beliefs that had been forced upon him ever since he was just a small, small boy, he can't stop himself from breaking down.

He knows that it's weak, and that his father wouldn't dare have let himself show emotion, even when he's all by himself. But the tears were already flowing, burning hot, wet tracks down his cheeks.

He bites down hard on the top of his hand, muffling his sobs. He's grateful that he was able to keep it together until the end of practice, until the end of Futakuchi's speech, until every single member of the Date Tech volleyball club was gone home for the day. Until he could be alone and wonder what he did wrong.

Futakuchi had called for a toss. He had heard him, although barely, over the sound of his own heart hammering in his ears. He didn't hesitate. He set the ball, Futakuchi jumped, back arched, ready to slam the ball down. Then, the unthinkable happened.

The tips of Futakuchi's fingers barely grazed the bottom of the ball. It sailed right over him, past Aone, past Sakunami, past everyone, and right out of bounds. He remembers the exact moment Futakuchi's face changed, from his cool, relaxed grin, to a grim, horrified gape.

The toss had been too high.

He was once again, the sole cause of Date Tech's downfall.

The worst part about it all was that Futakuchi hadn't even been mad. He had thrown himself to the floor, ignoring the throb that pulsed behind his eyes as he ducked down, resting his forehead on the floor of the gym, not a care in the world at how embarrassing he must have looked.

Futakuchi had just chuckled, gently pulling him back to his feet and ruffling his hair, glancing up at him with a small smile. "It's no one's fault. We'll get 'em next time."

That was a while ago.

Now, he was crouched silently behind a bench, curled into a sad, pathetic ball of tears and regret. He bites down even harder on his hand, the pain sharp as the taste of blood fills his mouth. His heartbeat is erratic, his head won't stop spinning. His ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton, the sound of his own sobs muffled even further as he spirals further downward into his own emotions, uncaring of how--

"Koganegawa?"

Koganegawa gasps harshly, letting go off his hand as he tries to remember how to breathe. He barely hears the sound of steps hurrying towards him over his raucous breaths. A large hand gently touches his shoulder, and he whimpers fearfully.

"It's... okay, Koganegawa. I'm right here. It's okay. Just.. just breathe..."

He pants tiredly, trying to regain control of his breathing. "I'm..." he rasps once before trailing off as he coughs wetly, spit flying everywhere.

Aone rubs his back in slow, soothing motions, whispering gentle words into his ear. "I know this is scary, Kogane, but it will end."

Koganegawa shakes his head, unwilling to try and speak again, and unwilling to believe those words, even coming from someone like Aone.

"Yes, it will." Aone tells him firmly. "Just breathe, in and out."

Koganegawa has never heard Aone sound like that before. So he breathes. He ignores the nearly suffocating weight crushing his lungs, and forces himself to push it back, regaining power over his breathing until it slows down into quiet huffs.

He looks up at Aone, staring straight into his dark, narrow eyes. His lip quivers, his eyes burning as tears gather within them once again. He buries his face into Aone's chest, wrapping his arms around the third year's body as tightly as he dares. Aone lets him, not questioning him once as he just runs his hand through his hair, mumbling soft, comforting words into his ear.