No major content warnings, minor warning for blood mention
481 words (im sorry for this)
It'll hurt him, it'll hurt him. The words were more than a mantra now, a doctrine, those three words had been on repeat in Nishinoya's brain for the last three days but nothing he did made it go away. He felt the guilt in his gut, it wasn't like an animal, but like an absence, a hungry void just south of his sternum that threatened to swallow him whole, if it didn't drive him mad first.
The smaller words, the quieter ones that he told himself, things like "It wasn't my fault." or "I didn't want him to do that" sounded nothing but hollow, like a single coin dropped in an empty tip jar. Part of him thought Asahi might just accept those excuses, that he could tell him and everything would be fine, but that part of him had been crushed, mangled and tortured beyond recognition by the three words: it'll hurt him.
It took two more days before Asahi said anything.
"Noya, um, is something wrong?" He didn't sound accusing, but he should, he really should.
"Nope!" He answered too quickly.
"Are you sure?" That was it, then. He had to tell him or leave him or something because Asahi only asked twice if he knew you were lying. He knows. He must.
"No, everything's fine! What's for lunch?" He hoped the way his fists clenched in the sweatshirt pocket wasn't too noticeable, he felt blood in his palms.
It was later, in bed, where he laid curled into Asahi's side and his head rested on his chest that he finally said the words.
"I kissed someone." He breathed, and he knew Asahi was asleep. "I'm sorry."
He woke with the dread in his chest and he couldn't move.
"Noya, you're going to be late." The wheedling tone, the sweetness, nothing Noya deserved.
"I'm sorry." The last words before he slept, the first when he woke, if he really meant them he'd be honest. "I'm sorry. I'm sick. Go ahead without me."
He spent two days in bed, and on the second day Asahi came home early, with soup and medicine and Noya's favorite movie and the tears were running down his cheeks before he noticed them leave his eyes.
"What's wrong?" The concern, the damn concern in his voice.
"Nothing," Noya sniffled. And tried again to be convincing. "Nothing, I'm fine. Thank you. I'm sorry." You deserve better.
"What are you sorry for?"
Everything. I love you. I kissed him, no, he kissed me, I didn't tell you, I can't hurt you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
"For being a burden, you don't have to take care of me, you know."
"I know, but I want to."
It'll hurt me, he thought now, and the tears flowed faster. It'll hurt me, too, and somehow that's worse.
FILL Team: Nishinoya Yuu/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Rated: T
481 words (im sorry for this)
It'll hurt him, it'll hurt him. The words were more than a mantra now, a doctrine, those three words had been on repeat in Nishinoya's brain for the last three days but nothing he did made it go away. He felt the guilt in his gut, it wasn't like an animal, but like an absence, a hungry void just south of his sternum that threatened to swallow him whole, if it didn't drive him mad first.
The smaller words, the quieter ones that he told himself, things like "It wasn't my fault." or "I didn't want him to do that" sounded nothing but hollow, like a single coin dropped in an empty tip jar. Part of him thought Asahi might just accept those excuses, that he could tell him and everything would be fine, but that part of him had been crushed, mangled and tortured beyond recognition by the three words: it'll hurt him.
It took two more days before Asahi said anything.
"Noya, um, is something wrong?" He didn't sound accusing, but he should, he really should.
"Nope!" He answered too quickly.
"Are you sure?" That was it, then. He had to tell him or leave him or something because Asahi only asked twice if he knew you were lying. He knows. He must.
"No, everything's fine! What's for lunch?" He hoped the way his fists clenched in the sweatshirt pocket wasn't too noticeable, he felt blood in his palms.
It was later, in bed, where he laid curled into Asahi's side and his head rested on his chest that he finally said the words.
"I kissed someone." He breathed, and he knew Asahi was asleep. "I'm sorry."
He woke with the dread in his chest and he couldn't move.
"Noya, you're going to be late." The wheedling tone, the sweetness, nothing Noya deserved.
"I'm sorry." The last words before he slept, the first when he woke, if he really meant them he'd be honest. "I'm sorry. I'm sick. Go ahead without me."
He spent two days in bed, and on the second day Asahi came home early, with soup and medicine and Noya's favorite movie and the tears were running down his cheeks before he noticed them leave his eyes.
"What's wrong?" The concern, the damn concern in his voice.
"Nothing," Noya sniffled. And tried again to be convincing. "Nothing, I'm fine. Thank you. I'm sorry." You deserve better.
"What are you sorry for?"
Everything. I love you. I kissed him, no, he kissed me, I didn't tell you, I can't hurt you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
"For being a burden, you don't have to take care of me, you know."
"I know, but I want to."
It'll hurt me, he thought now, and the tears flowed faster. It'll hurt me, too, and somehow that's worse.