Chapter Text
AUGUST
Blood stains his hands as he scrubs at the dimples dented into his cheeks, fingers pruned from the cold water, eyes burnt red from crying. The yellowed lights above the bathroom sink hiss as a whine chokes behind his tongue, skin flaking into his palms while roughly scrubbing at all of his imperfections; his deep, stupid dimples, his small muddy eyes, the cluster of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the silver hair that falls against his forehead, his thin, chapped lips and pale, pitiful skin.
You’re disgusting, you nasty little fag. No one will ever love you like I do.
Suga folds in his lips in to hide a sob, the fear of Tooru or Hajime finding him in this state too much for his mind to process.
He clings to the marble beneath his bitten fingertips.
Leave me and I’ll kill myself, Koushi.
Suga slams his eyes shut, digging his teeth into his bottom lip.
Leave me and I’ll kill you, Koushi.
Suga turns on both faucets now as he crumbles, arms trembling while he struggles to keep himself upright. Reluctantly, he peers up and looks back at himself in the mirror, which only makes his tears fall in thicker streams down his bloodied cheeks.
The blood, he thinks in a panic, at least take care of the blood first.
So he does, shaking and itching as he washes the blood away into the pretty white bowl beneath him. As he bends down to feel the water, the smell of bleach slaps him in his sense.
Hajime cleaned, he thinks and to his utter shock, he smiles, before reaching over and snatching a toilet paper from the roll. He waits until most of the blood has swam down the drain to wipe the sink clean, knowing Tooru and his detective like observation skills would easily be able to discover the bloodied paper in the trash bin.
Suga slaps at his cheeks, which are still sore from the incessant rubbing, and straightens out his shoulders. “You’re okay now,” he whispers to himself. “Get a hold of yourself, Suga. Just—”
Three heavy knocks startle Suga from his skin as he shrieks and slams against the wall.
“Jesus, buddy, don’t break the bathroom!” jokes Tooru.
Suga wants nothing more than to rip away the smile he’s positive his friend is wearing. “I-I’ll be out in a minute,” he finally wobbles free once his voice comes back to him.
“It’s celebration dinner time, and you’re coming!”
“Tooru—”
“The publisher approved his book cover. We’re celebrating! There is no answer but yes in his situation, Koushi.”
Suga runs damp hands down his face. Ow. Sore, stupid. “I-I have to work—"
“YES. ONLY ANSWER.”
“T-”
“Ah-”
“But-”
“You’re coming, dammit, even if I have to break down this door and drag you by your ankles, child. Everyone is meeting us, and you know that you not being there will only cause your phone to malfunction later,” he threatens, singing the last word.
A small, timid knock follows in pursuit. “Sug, just accept defeat now before this gets embarrassing. I mean, come on. You know how he gets.”
Ah, Hajime. The voice of reason.
Suga looks back to the sink and quickly wipes down the bowl, careful to clean every last drop of blood before blinking repeatedly, straightening out his shirt and grabbing the towel by the shower—just to make it look like his face has a reason for being so...swollen. Taking a deep breath, Suga unlocks the door and tosses it open to reveal both of his flatmates; Hajime leans there with crossed arms and an apologetic smile, and as for Tooru...
“Were you crying?” he asks, his wide smile dropping instantly.
Suga stutters. “W-what...no, no .” He holds up the towel. “I was washing my face.” Worry stains Tooru’s eyes. “Seriously, I was a mess. We were working with clay today and….you don’t believe me.”
Tooru leans in closer and Hajime sighs. “Koushi. I’ve known you since we were eating dirt on the playground. You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”
Suga bites his lip. “R-Right.”
Tooru scoffs. “That’s a lie, you ass! You bite your lip when you—”
“OKAY!” interrupts Hajime, and Suga has never been more grateful. “We have a reservation and a lot of hungry male friends to feed. So, we need to leave now if we’re to have any chance of eating tonight,” he says, gripping his fiance's waist before turning to Suga. “I don't want to place anymore pressure on those strong shoulders of yours but, I would love it if you came.”
Fuck.
“Well, that’s just cheating,” sighs Suga as he pushes past the two, Tooru cheering dramatically. Suga shakes his head and maneuvers back towards his bedroom to get changed.
Tears still play at the backs of his eyes as he runs a fist over the throbbing bruise pinching at his side. But right now, Hajime needs him, wants him.
His tears could wait.
***
Suga was not a man who enjoyed alcohol.
Well, at least not anymore. Because with alcohol, came demons.
With alcohol came rough hands and harsh words and hot tears and fear laced secrets and long, painful nights. With alcohol came Wakatoshi and beatings that never ended and apologies that held no backbone. With alcohol came depression and with depression came the marks that littered the insides of his thighs—and so when as soon as Suga steps foot into the bar, all he can think about is Waka.
He thinks about how he was once a gentle lover; protective, sure; of when he was kind and curious about who Suga was—a Suga who owned no doubts about wanting a future with Ushijima. He thinks back to when he should have first saw the signs; the days when he would come home tipsy, purposely knocking over lamps and coffee cups, the days when him knocking things over turned into tossing and throwing and when the things he threw began to be aimed at Suga.
He remembers the first time Waka slapped him, cheek throbbing and eyes fighting desperately to not shed a tear. He thinks about how Waka begged on his knees for forgiveness, and about how once Suga did, how Ushijima pushed him into the wall for making him feel guilty for it. He thinks about how the beatings only escalated from there, and about how Waka started to threaten Suga’s friends; Asahi, Kuroo, Tooru…
He thinks—
“Suga?”
His eyes snap up at the sound of Hajime’s voice, a voice tinged with worry. “Hey, you’ve been out of it since we left the apartment. Whats up?”
Suga panics for a moment before slapping on one of his best silicone smiles, forcing the memories to flood back into his brain. “Just lost in thought,” he promises, placing his hand on top of the one Hajime has rested against his cheek.
But he quickly yanks away. Hell. What would Waka do if he saw that?
Suga doesn’t allow himself to picture it.
After a moment of hesitation, Hajime nods and gestures for them to head towards the back of the bar. Suga looks towards the counter and waves to his friends. As always, Kageyama and Hinata are stationed at the bar, ducking and diving beneath each other while making various cocktails, subtly flirting with their eyes while Noya and Asahi serve toppling trays of steaming dishes to various tables.
After graduation, Tsukki decided to go after his dream of opening a bar—once of age, of course—hiring a handful of the guys to fill the positions.
“Suga!” A hard slap knocks the breath from his chest. “You came! Asahi said you probably wouldn’t be able to make it!”
“Hey Noya,” he greets with grinning eyes. “Hajime, uh, convinced me.”
“My fiance is the best at that,” Tooru says with a wink, sliding up to join the conversation. “I only wish I had his talent.”
“You have other talents,” adds Hajime, “like being incredibly persistent.”
Noya chuckles and Suga does as well.
“Why am I marrying you again?”
Hajime lifts his eyebrows and loops an arm around Tooru’s waist, his free hand roaming sensually through his fiance’s hair. “I can show you if you’d like,” he purrs.
Noya and Suga take that as their cue. He turns to Noya. “When are you guys off?”
“Well, you’re here so,” he looks at the clock, “now,” he smiles, calling for Asahi to hurry up, and leaving Suga to stand alone in the center of the bar.
A second passes and Suga can already feel it; the panic.
One.
Suga, don’t you fucking leave!
Two.
Please, baby, don’t leave me.
Three.
Suga, I’ll hurt him if you leave.
Four.
I hate you, you nasty pig!
Five.
I’m sorry, Koushi. I love you, I love you. Stay with me.
Stay with me.
Stay with me.
Stay—
“Suga, over here!”
A sharp inhale drags him back to the present as he sees Kuroo waving in his direction. Suga releases a shaky breath before giving his best smile and walking towards their booth towards the back. Each step feels weighed as he shimmies around tables and drunk dancers, keeping his train of thought focused on his friends.
His friends. His family.
When he finally makes it to the booth, Kuroo and Kenma both stand to greet him. Kenma’s hug is soft, tentative while Kuroo’s—arms roping tight around Suga’s skinny neck—is suffocating, and as he struggles to draw in air, he tries to remember the last time he and his friends were truly alone together.
“Hey stranger,” Kuroo whispers into his ear before finally pushing back and smiling into Suga’s eyes. “You okay?” Suga smiles and nods small, humming his response before following the two into the booth. “I swear. I’m so busy with practices, and with you getting ready to start your classes again, I can’t remember the last time we were really together."
“November,” answers Kenma after he finishes taking a sip from his margarita. “We went to a movie. The one about space.”
It takes Suga a minute. “Arrival?”
“Ken, babe, that was about aliens.”
“Aliens come from space.”
Kuroo shakes his head and kisses his boyfriends hand, Kenma smiling into his sleeve.
Suga watches the two with gentle eyes.
He, Tooru, Hajime, Kuroo, and Kenma had known each other since kindergarten.
Well, most of them anyways. Kuroo and Suga had know each other since birth. But Tooru, Hajime, and Kenma were late to the group. Though nonetheless, watching the four of them grow together—fall in love together—has been one of the most beautiful things Suga could ever possibly witness.
Just as he’s about to open his mouth to ask Kenma about work, a drink is slid in his direction and when he looks up, Tsukki’s eyes are locked hard onto his own. “Glad you made it.”
Suga shrugs and takes the drink. “How could I say no?” Tsukki smiles. “It’s busy. Business is good, I assume?”
Summer was a busy time. Tsukki had the bar, Tooru and Hajime taught volleyball lessons at the YMCA, and for Suga, it was all about constructing the next year's teaching schedule. Kuroo's matches always seemed to increase during this time as well. The end of summer was their time to reconvene, and Suga was happy for it.
Needed it.
“It’s the summer. There’s never a better time,” Tsukki answers as he unties the apron from around his waist. He sinks into the spot beside Kuroo with an exhausted huff. "But I'm glad it's gonna be slowing down. I am beat." The two battle for a moment with the limited arm space, but all is fair in love and war, and Tsukki wins in the end. “So, where’s the artist?”
Suga, Kuroo and Kenma all gesture towards the door, where Tooru and Hajime stand locked in a passionate—goodness, and a very sweaty—embrace.
Suga's cheeks blush. When was the last time someone truly loved him like that?
Only one name comes to mind.
Tsukki tisks. His favorite sound. “I swear, I should turn my flat into a love hotel. Imagine the money I’d make then.”
“I still don’t know how Yama gets any sleep at night. I hear a penny drop, and I’m awake all night,” jokes Kuroo.
Kenma nods in agreement before asking, “Where is Yamaguchi?”
“Upstairs. He’s drowning in publications.”
“He did it to himself,” shrugs Kuroo.
“And I bet he loves it,” adds Suga, “right, Tsukki?”
Tsukki nods as he swallows at his bourbon. “I’ve known that boy since we were kids. Never have his hands not had a book wedged between them. He’s doing what he was born to do.”
“And thank God for him,” comes Hajime's voice as he and Tooru finally join them in the booth. “I’d never had gotten this job without him.”
“Oh, look who decided to come up for air!” jokes Kuroo, and the laughter is contagious.
“Hey, hey! Don’t sell yourself short, Iwa-chan! You could have gotten that job all on your own and you know it.”
Suga nods in agreement.
“Yeah? Is that why I was working at a farmers market until Yama came along?”
“Hey, things take a bit before they really start working out,” adds Kenma. “I didn’t get into my company until a year after I applied.”
“Oh, Kenma,” whines Tsukki.
"What?"
“That was a terrible example, babe,” laughs Kuroo.
Kenma looks stunned. “What do you mean?”
“Kenma, you had that job in the bag since high school! You knew that game company wanted you from the get go!” punches Suga, leaning his head on Kenma’s shoulder.
“T-They did not! I-I wasn’t—”
Kuroo shuts him up with a kiss. “My humble,” KISS, “humble,” KISS, “boyfriend,” Kuroo hums.
Kenma growls against his lips.
"You guys aren’t drunk yet, right?” Everyone turns to greet Asahi and Noya as they join the booth. Asahi looks to Suga’s drink. “Oh, Suga. Again?”
“What did you expect? That’s all he drinks,” replies Tooru.
“Hey now,” warns Suga with a sloppy grin.
Tsukki chimes in. “I bet if I were to call to Hinata right now and ask for your usual, he’d bring a rum and coke.”
“You guys are mean to me, I swear,” Suga laughs while turning back to his alcohol.
He closes his eyes.
You’re safe.
He’s not here.
“Hey, where’s tall, dark and handsome, Sug?” asks Asahi as Noya props himself against his husband.
Suga’s heart stops. “W-What?”
Tooru goes still beside him.
“Ushijima! He never comes out with us,” whines Noya, "the cocky, talented, bastard."
Tooru’s stare is enough to drill a hole in the side of Suga’s skull. “Oh, he’s just busy with practices and such. Sleeps during most of his free time.”
“That’s no excuse! I have practice six times a week and here I am!” bellows Kuroo. “We’re your family. It’s his job to impress us.”
You’d kill him, Kuroo. “I’ll let him know.”
“Yeah, you better. I must approve,” grunts Tooru, obviously annoyed.
“Hey now! We're not here to interrogate me tonight! Okay? No, we are here,” Suga sings, diverting the conversation as far away from him possible, “for Hajime and his amazing achievement!”
Everyone luckily goes along with the change of subject, holding up their drinks; all expect Tooru, of course, whose eyes have refused to leave Suga since the beginning of the conversation.
Tooru catches Suga’s eye and mouths dramatically, we are talking later.
Suga cups a hand behind his ear. I can’t hear you.
Tooru pouts. Liar.
Suga clears his throat as he toasts, “To Hajime, for designing a beautiful book cover for a book soon to be on the New York Times’ bestsellers list!”
Again, cheers echo from all around, even from voices not seated at the booth.
Kageyama and Hinata cheer from the bar.
Hajime blushes. Tooru kisses his cheek. “Congrats baby!” he sings.
Hajime tosses thanks around to everyone in the booth.
Silence falls as everyone takes heavy swallows of their beverages. Glasses slam hard onto the table as laughter follows in pursuit, Asahi first to come up for air. “Oh hey! Good news!” All eyes go to him. “Guess who's coming home next week?”
Suga, snorting rum up into his nose, almost drops his glass.
Again, Tooru watches his friend with careful eyes.
“No way,” whispers Kenma.
Asahi nods through his ecstatic smile. “Yes, yes! We got the letter in the mail today, he should be home on Wednesday!”
"Wednesday," mumbles Suga, and all eyes attempt to not goggle.
“W-We’re going to go pick him up from the airport. But we wanted to throw a party for him or something. Would you guys be down for that?” asks Noya, eyes scanning Suga.
Hajime claps loud enough for the sound to be heard in Germany. “Are you kidding?! That man deserves a damn party!”
“I can close the bar down. Just us,” suggests Tsukki.
“I know they have the kids and all, but hopefully Tanaka and Yachi can make it too,” adds Kenma and Tsukki nods in agreement.
“He’s...is he back for good?”
Everyone stops and turns to look at Suga, the silver haired man all too aware of the far too many eyes now studying his face.
Tooru, under the table, snatches Suga’s hand. Asahi smiles. “He thinks so, yes.”
Suga can’t stop the gasp that breaks past his lips. Tooru squeezes his hand harder. “You’re allowed to be happy, Koushi.”
Kenma, on his opposite side, grips his other hand. “Tooru’s right. This is a good thing.”
“No, no. I know, and it’s great,” he boasts. Suga can feel Kuroo’s eyes burrowing into him. “It’s been so long.” A thought hits him then. “Wait, did he get hurt!? Is he-”
“No!” Asahi is quick to reassure, “Oh, no he’s fine! But I think he went on a pretty hard mission and—I think they called it for him.”
“Jesus,” breathes Tsukki. “How long has it been now?”
“Six years,” quietly answers Suga.
No one hears him.
Hajime is now the man to call a toast. He holds up his glass and clears his throat. “To Daichi. Welcome home, Soldier.”
Suga is the last to raise his glass, in light of the violent shake in his arms.
“Welcome home, Soldier.”
***
Suga walks back to the flat with Tooru and Hajime, Oikawa’s fiance drooped drunk over his shoulder while singing some classic rock ballad. Tooru is quick to drag them all to a halt, gently lifting Hajime’s chin to meet his eyes.
“Love, can you make it upstairs by yourself?”
Almost instantly, Hajime is up and on his feet, giggling like a toddler. “Y-Yes,” he burps. Tooru cracks the widest smile. “Yes sir,” he says, saluting, before kissing Suga on the cheek and heading towards the elevator. “G-Goodnighhhtt,” he sings.
Suga and Tooru do the same, before Tooru turns to Suga with hard eyes.
Suga shoves jittery hands into his pockets and bounces on his heels. “You’re going to yell at me, aren’t you?”
Tooru shakes his head. “No,” he answers far too quickly. “But I am going to ask you the same thing I do every single time you leave for his place.” Suga waits for it, head hung low, heart throbbing painfully in his chest. “Why are you staying with him?”
“Tooru—”
“There is something you’re not telling me and I hate it.” Suga’s lip pouts as Tooru’s voice breaks. “Koushi. Please, talk to me,” Tooru says, closing the small space between him as his hands come to rest on Suga’s cheeks. “Something has been wrong for— God, months, and you won’t talk to me about it.” Suga slams his eyes shut. “Did, did I do something? Is that—”
“God, no, Tooru! Come on-”
“Well, what am I supposed to think?!” The shout startles Suga. It seems to only upset Tooru further. “Suga, you come home exhausted every night. On top of that, you come home ridiculously late, and when you do come home early, you rush to the bathroom like you have to vomit! You’re quiet and always by yourself and—I miss you so much. It’s like Invasion of the Body Snatchers or something! You’re...different, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what's happening! And it seems like anytime Ushijima is involved—”
“Please, Tooru—”
“I’m here for you,” he says, shaking Suga. The tears become harder to hold back. “Just talk to me, what is going on—”
“N-Nothing,” he tries to say convincingly. But like most of the lies he spills, it comes out utterly forced.
Tooru freezes and drops his hands. “That. That right there. The Koushi I know would never lie to me.”
“Tooru—”
“Are you going to him tonight?” Suga drops his chin to his chest before nodding. “W-Why? What is happening between you two, and why won’t you let us meet him?”
Suga stays silent.
“Suga, what has he done to you-”
“STOP!” Suga screams, far louder than intended, and Tooru stumbles backwards. Suga tosses a hand up to cover his mouth. Tooru is now the one crying. “I’m...I’m so sorry. I-I,” he stutters until he backs up against the brick wall of his building. “I have to go,” he whispers, and Tooru chuckles in amazement. “Please, please don’t hate me.”
“Suga, do not leave right now.”
But Suga does leave.
In fact, he runs until he’s sprinting down the sidewalk towards Waka’s place, tears leaking down his cheeks. He refuses to look behind him. He refuses to think of Tooru. He refuses to think.
He only runs, runs back to his boyfriend's apartment where Waka sits on his couch waiting; where Waka yells at him for coming back so late; where Waka slams Suga’s frail body into the wall of his apartment; where Waka kicks at his ribs as punishment; where Suga blacks out on the floor; where Waka carries him into their bed and holds him until morning; and where they wake together the next day, Ushijima acting as if none of that ever happened.