
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3495287.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroko_no_Basuke_|_Kuroko's_Basketball
  Relationship:
      Midorima_Shintarou/Takao_Kazunari
  Character:
      Midorima_Shintarou, Takao_Kazunari, Shuutoku_High_(Characters), Midorima
      Shintarou's_Sister, Midorima's_mother, Original_Male_Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Romance, Psychological_Drama, Self_Confidence_Issues, Self-Hatred,
      Depression, Loneliness, Sad, Relationship_Issues, Bullying, Hurt/Comfort,
      Alternate_Universe, Friendship, Teen_Angst, Internalized_Homophobia,
      Homophobia, Homophobic_Language, Mental_Anguish, Falling_In_Love, Pining,
      Slow_Build, Slow_Burn, Family_Drama, Mood_Swings, Emotional/Psychological
      Abuse, Anxiety_Issues, Fluff, Family_Fluff
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-07 Updated: 2015-05-21 Chapters: 7/? Words: 10430
****** no one's gonna love you anyway ******
by nahiko
Summary
     (TEMPORARY HIATUS ― the next chapters are all outlined, but my muse
     has been running away from me since the end of June/2015, and it
     seems to avoid this fic in particular. It's not abandoned, but an
     update will probably take quite a while to be made.)
     They may be on the same page here ― it doesn't mean they're friends.
     Midorima's been the weird kid his whole life and he knows how it
     feels to be left behind just because you're too strange for anyone to
     bear you, to actually try to understand you. Takao never said he
     would act any different and, honestly, Midorima shouldn't have
     expected anything.
Notes
     Midorima, my dear love. I just can't get over this plot bunny. I'm
     sorry.
     So. This is probably going to be awkwardly long and it'll take a lot
     of my time. The characters are (also probably) ooc, and even though
     it's something that kinda bothers me, I'm trying not to get annoyed
     by it.
     Any mistakes, or if you think I should tag something, please, please,
     let me know!
     More than that, I just hope you enjoy.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
But, look, you were always begging and no one seemed to care — you were always
alone, and none of them ever looked your way. What’s the whole point, anyway?
You may be lonely but you don’t want to be alone and it never mattered because
that’s what you always were: alone. Gripping tightly to your wishful dreams and
expecting for some kind of miracle that never came. That’s the life you’ve
wanted to live? That’s what you dreamed about? People are cruel and the world
is not a happy place. Still, you held on to that fading thread of hope and
waited for some kind of miracle that never happened. You waited for the saviour
that never came, for the doors to be open, for your prayers to be answered.
Tell me: was it worth it? Because your heart is broken and your soul is
shattered but I don’t see you giving up. Can you keep going even when there’s
no more hope? Can you keep going even when it hurts more than you think you can
stand?
 
===============================================================================
 
Midorima’s always been the weird kid — tall, wearing glasses and who the hell
has natural green hair anyway? —, but not ever only for his appearance. People
often misunderstood him — his silence as arrogance, his shyness and lack of
social abilities as if he was trying not to befriend anyone because he
considered himself too good to be with them. Sometimes, there’s no use lying,
he did think he was — but only when angry, lonely and hurt, he wanted them to
stop looking at him as if he was a fucking freak.
As he grew older and nothing truly ever changed — guess Midorima just accepted
it. Albeit it wasn’t something that made him feel good, it was something he
knew he could live with, or at least he thought he could. The constant hope
that someone would actually try and reach out to him was something familiar.
Even if no one did it… Well. Midorima would find a way to get used to it.
He always did.
Now. What he can’t get used to, doesn’t feel like he can, is that boy from
Biochemistry Lab — the one with raven black hair and silvery blue eyes. What he
can’t get used to is that boy’s cheerfulness, his easy smiles, his jokes, the
way he’s so clearly comfortable around anyone — even someone as left out as
Midorima. What he can’t get used to are those friday mornings when the boy will
so casually slip to the sit besides him and greet him and talk to him as if
it’s something natural, as if it’s a normal occurrence.
What Midorima can’t get used to is the damn cozy feeling at the bottom of his
stomach, the way his lips will want to curl upwards and his cheeks will flush
and he will crave so much for that damned class because maybe — just maybe,
he’ll never take it for granted — Takao Kazunari will smile at him again.
Midorima doesn’t understand why he feels this way. He doesn’t want to. Some
part of him is too afraid — afraid of what it may be, afraid that if he
understands what it is, people will see it too, and Takao will be disgusted by
him and Midorima will feel worse than he already feels. He knows, deep inside,
that he shouldn’t be like this when it comes to Takao, to another boy. He
knows. Everyone will say nasty things if they discover and then Midorima will
have to find another brightest point of the week because Takao will stop
smiling at him, thinking he’ll get the wrong idea, and this isn’t something he
wants. This — he would never want it.
Others may say he’s overreacting, but Midorima knows he’s not; good things
don’t usually happen to him, and if they do, it’s surely some kind of mistake —
and even if this wasn’t a mistake, he would probably ruin it, anyway, because
that’s what he always does.
Midorima’s stopped believing in miracles a long, long time ago.
 
===============================================================================
 
So, he’s expecting just another friday morning when Takao will be all smiles
and bright eyes and his stomach will turn painfully whenever he looks at the
boy in wonder, and the teacher will talk about chemical bonds and reactions and
the human body, and he will absentmindedly note whatever he can, circling
points here and there where he knows he can probably have some hard time
studying.
His lucky item for the day this time is a penguin charm that found its way on
his pencil case, and he truly expects that no one notices this — it was hard
enough last time, when someone thought it would be funny to mess with him and
he ended up losing the bear figurine, just for his mom to scream at him because
it was his grandpa’s and he would be completely mad when he found out about the
lost. It’s not like the penguin charm was expensive, but it wasn’t cheap,
either. He would prefer not to throw his parents’ money away, thank you very
much.
Anyway. As if Midorima’s not unlucky enough, despite his efforts, and things
never go as he expects them to go, the teacher decides to come up with a group
project that’s supposed to last through the whole semester. He impatiently
waits for the pairs to be made, and he knows he’s probably going to end up
alone, because, let’s be real, that’s what always happens. It’s not like he’s
not good enough with Biochemistry or anything, but people usually prefer not
having to keep any kind of contact with the green haired weirdo from third
desk.
That’s when Takao pokes his right arm softly.
Midorima turns his eyes, staring at the boy, somewhat confused, somewhat
alarmed. He didn’t do anything wrong, did he?
Unaware of his uneasiness, Takao just keeps that awfully beautiful smile
plastered all over his face.
“Hey, Midorima-kun. Do you want to be my group partner?”
Chapter End Notes
     Yes. Takao will start this calling him "Midorima-kun". I don't regret
     it.
     I have no idea when this will be updated. Hours? Days? Weeks? I'll
     try not to take this long, though.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     First of all: I'm sorry that it took me this long to update. I have
     been sick since last week and I'm just starting to get better now
     (and I know I said I had no idea how often I would do it, but
     still... ). I hope you can forgive me :(
     Secondly, I would also like to apologize for my answers in the
     comments: I never quite know what to say, and sometimes it makes me
     come off as indifferent (or even rude, I’m not sure), but, like,
     seriously. I’m just awkwardly awkward.
     About the chapter:
     I didn't know what name should I give to Midorima's mother, but I
     called his sister "Kawori". And I feel like I don't know where I'm
     going to, even though I do know where I'm heading to.
     That's weird.
     Anyway. There's not much Midorima/Takao interaction in this chapter
     (and if I'm not wrong, there's not going to be that much on the next
     one, too), but in my head the situation didn't call for it. To be
     fair, there's going to be a lot of interaction when they finally
     start the project (that I'm still trying to find a way to talk about
     without it looking completely out of place), which, hopefully, won't
     take that long.
     I'm so nervous I don't even know why someone send help
     Any mistakes, or if you think I should tag something, please, please,
     let me know!
     More than that, I just hope you enjoy.
If not for the “Midorima-kun” and the way Takao looks at him expectantly, he
would be sure he’d misheard. But the teacher keeps waiting for the pairs to be
made and Takao keeps staring and albeit it doesn’t seem any real, Midorima
knows it is.
He adjusts his glasses and shrugs awkwardly, not really knowing what to do.
Some part of him just makes him want to avert his gaze and not to answer —
another one is hit by a wave of excitement that he can't quite stop.
It can't be so bad, can it? Probably. Hopefully.
“I... Uh.... Okay. Sure.”
Takao looks pleased enough with the answer and, quietly, they both look at the
teacher again.
 
===============================================================================
 
When class is over, Midorima is waiting. His hands tremble slightly, but he
uses them to pack up his things slowly and hopes it’s not too noticeable. He
feels uncomfortable, not sure about what he should be expecting, and he hates
that fate just seems to love doing this kind of things to him.
So — of course he’s waiting. It still takes all he has not to jump when Takao
stops by his side.
“Midorima-kun.”
He’s going to keep cool, and not looking. He is.
“Yes?”
“How do you want to do the project? Do you think we could do it here? Or in our
homes? What do you prefer?” the words almost seem to overflow from Takao’s
mouth, wrapping up around Midorima, suffocating him.
What does he want? He didn’t think about it. It would’ve been ten times easier
if he just hadn’t accepted at all — he could do his project alone and wouldn’t
have to answer anything. He doesn’t know if they can do it at his home; mom
never told him anything about bringing people home, and it’s not like he ever
had anyone, friend or anything, to bring home. The prospect of going to Takao’s
house when he knows as much about the boy as he knows about any other of his
classmates, though, is terrifying. But at the same just telling the boy about
keeping it in school seems too cold, too indifferent, and this is the first
someone has asked him to be their group partner and Midorima doesn’t want to
come out as a jerk.
God. Why is this so hard?
“I’ll talk to my mom.” he finally looks up to Takao, and is relieved that his
voice doesn’t let out how anxious he feels. Maybe there’s something off about
it, but hopefully Takao won’t notice.
“Okay! I’ll talk to mine, too. We talk about it on Monday?”
“Y-Yeah.” Midorima stutters.
Monday? Takao never talked to him on monday — just on fridays. Did that mean
they were going to see each other during the rest of the week, too? If his — or
Takao’s — mother let them, did it mean they would meet outside of school?
“See you on monday, then, Midorima-kun!” waving quickly, Takao turns his back
on him and leaves the class.
Midorima feels a soft blush creeping on to his face.
“S… See you.”
 
===============================================================================
 
He gets home the same time he always does — it’s past midday, almost 01:30
p.m.; mom is already there, doing lunch, whilst his sister surely just happened
to wake up and is packing up her things for school.
He considers his options heavily — he can talk to his mother now, or he can
wait for her to come back from work, later. It’s not an easy choice; it doesn’t
happen often, but sometimes she comes home angry because being a nurse doesn’t
take just her time — the price is heavy, both physically and emotionally, and
the more the years go by, the more Midorima feels as if she’s having a hard
time getting better. But it’s something she loves to do  to — help people — and
he can never tell her what he truly thinks: that it’s breaking her.
Then, talking about it tomorrow can’t even be considered an option — saturdays
are the days when she’ll want to clean up the house, and she hates to do it;
she’ll be in a foul mode for the whole day and there won’t be any possibility
that she will tell him he can bring a stranger to their home.
Not that the possibilities are high right now, but Midorima thinks he can still
have hope.
“I’m home”, he tells the white walls of his house, hearing the noise coming
from the kitchen and the sound of a shower upstairs. Midorima leaves his shoes
by the door and heads to his room, where he leaves his school bag before coming
back down.
“Mom?” he calls, albeit knowing where she is; last time she walked up on him
because she didn’t heard he was already home, she almost threw boiling water
all over him.
“Kitchen!” she answers.
He stops by the door and watches her cooking.
Midorima has always admired his mother. Not for the loving, caring person she
always was when he was a kid — well, that too, but not only for it. What he
admired most on her was her strength. Albeit her eyes are soft, there’s
something sharp, like danger lurking the surface. She never needed anyone to be
complete. She never broke, she never fell, and against all expectations, she
kept her family together, she kept them going on. Dad was never home to help
her, and she never, not even once, complained about it  — he does what he can,
she would say to her children as they grew up with nothing more than two or
three encounters a year and photos of a man they didn’t really know. There were
bad days, of course — sometimes she would scream and break things and throw
them, and Midorima would tell his sister to hide under the bed because he
didn’t want her to see their mom like that. There were days when she didn’t
work and she would just sit on the couch and stay there all day, staring into
nothing, her thoughts a million miles away.
But there were good, amazing days, too, like that time when she got them Disney
movies and ice cream and they were awake until late at night — or that other
one, in which dad was home and they’d gone to the park and there were lights
and Kawori got herself a plush toy and everything seemed okay.
It’s about these days that Midorima thinks when he sees her like this: frying
pan in hands, concentrated look on her face, fair hair tied up in a bun. It’s
about these days that he thinks when he wishes he could be more like her.
Kawori was always more like their mother, she did get mom’s genes, but all
Midorima could get were her green eyes. His hair, the shape of his eyes, his
jaw, even parts of his personality — they’re all dad’s.
Sixteen years, and he still doesn’t know how he feels about this.
“Do you need help?”
“No, no, it’s ok. Just go and see if Kawori has finished up her bath, right?
Lunch will be ready in a minute.”
Nodding, Midorima leaves.
 
===============================================================================
 
“Kawori, go brush your teeth. We’ll be leaving soon.”
“Yes, mom!”
Always enthusiastic, Kawori jumps from her sit and runs to her run, golden hair
rushing wildly behind her. Midorima can’t understand what’s so good and
exciting about school — but then, Kaworidoes have friends, after all, and maybe
being seven makes everything look better than it really is. He doesn’t remember
ever feeling like this when he was seven, but still.
“Mom?” Midorima speaks up, slowly, when he’s sure Kawori can’t hear him. For
some reason, whenever he wants to ask anything, having her near makes him feel
uneasy.
“Yes, Shintarou?” mom looks at him, and his mouth feels dry.
He should’ve thought about what he was going to say, shouldn’t he?
“I… Uh… Hum… I have a… Group project. From Biochemistry Lab. I was wondering if
I… If my…” how should he talk about Takao? “Group partner could… Come… Here.”
feeling her eyes like daggers on him, Midorima stops.
“Group project?” she repeats, quietly, as if considering, and he doesn’t feel
like she’s going to say yes.
“He’s not going to stay for too long.” he rushes to say. “Just… Two or three
hours a week and… And I’ll clean up the house after he goes away, I swear.”
maybe promising they won’t do a mess can help, too.
“What about your sister?”
Midorima resists the urge to frown. He didn’t think about that.
“He can come after she leaves from school. I mean… I’ll still pick her up, but
he’ll go away before.” and it’ll be as if he’s never been here at all.
“And you’ll be alone here the whole afternoon?”
“Uh… Yes?” she frowns, and Midorima just knows he’s just destroyed whatever
possibility that Takao can come. “No! I mean. We… Could… Kinda…” damn.
Midorima loves and admires his mother a lot. He truly, truly does. But
sometimes — sometimes he just wishes he could talk to her. Talk to her without
looking at the ground and feeling like she thinks he’s nothing but the dirty
under her feet. Because whenever he tries — like now —, it’s like she’s judging
him, telling him to do better, to be better, as if he’s not trying hard enough.
It’s worse than when dad’s home, and he’s almost never home. She never even
said anything — not more than casual comments he knows that were never meant to
hurt him — but… Midorima wishes he could make her understand. Just — if at
least he could… Just one time.... Make her proud and then — then maybe…
“I don’t know, Shintarou… Is this boy even your friend?” having no answer but
the silence, his mother shakes her head. “I don’t like the idea very much.” she
sighs. “I’m sorry, son.”
At least she looks truthful.
“It’s okay.” Midorima says, softly.
They’re not doing the project in his house, then.
He hopes Takao won’t get mad.
 
 
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     My conscience told me that writing Midorima over the weekend wouldn’t
     make any sense. Usually, they just say nonsense, but this time I
     decided to follow them and I’m not sure I did the right thing someone
     send help because I’m pretty sure I’m messing things up
     ALSO we have an oc making an appearance, but don’t get your hopes
     high. You’ll understand what I’m talking about when you get to the
     part where he shows up.
     I’m oddly enthusiastic about writing this which means that there must
     be something wrong
     AND just one more thing before I stop rambling nonsense here (I can't
     help it, sorry): I promise I'll try to make bigger chapters, just so
     the story won't look all fragmented, but it's a struggle for me to
     get to 1k words, so bigger chapters will take longer than this ones
     already took. Also, school tests have already started, and they'll
     end just on middle April and I should be studying but I'm writing
     instead and somehow I should feel guilty but I don't have it in me to
     even regret
     So. That's it. Basically I think
     Any mistakes, or if you think I should tag something, please, please,
     let me know!
     More than that, I just hope you enjoy.
Monday comes crashing to his face with a boy that is already at the classroom
when he comes inside. Midorima finds out that he doesn’t have it in him to just
go there and recklessly talk — two whole days and he’s not ready to face Takao,
not any more than he was on friday. He thought that another worries would crawl
back inside him, but even now, as he slowly approaches his desk, the only thing
that holds his attention is Takao.
Takao, whom has only-god-knows what class now, but is still here.
Midorima hesitates. He’s torn between carefully tip-toe around Takao, as all
his senses scream for him to do, or just going there and act as if everything’s
according to some kind of plan — that doesn’t actually exists, but this is just
a detail.
He ends up choosing the last, telling himself thatit’s not as if the world is
going to end, anyway, because Takao's just a boy and it's just school work and
once it ends, everything will go back to as it was before. Nothing more,
nothing less. There’s probably no reason to worry or over think, and he feels
stupid for doing so.
 
“Takao?”
His voice comes out strange, somewhat empty. Midorima scolds himself for saying
it so naturally, but, hey, that’s what Takao does, right? Maybe he can do it
too. Perhaps he should’ve added a “-kun” in the end, though.
“Midorima-kun!” Takao doesn’t smile, but he seems comfortable enough just
sitting on one of the desks near Midorima’s — if he knows where Midorima sits
or it’s just a coincidence, the green haired boy will never know. “Everything
okay?” not giving him time enough to do anything more than a nod, Takao
continues. “Did you talk to your mother?”
Midorima sighs soundlessly.
Right. The project. It’s not as if Takao would be talking to him any other way…
He knows it. There’s no reason, not at all, to feel disappointed.
“Yes.” adding details about the conversation isn’t needed. Also, Takao probably
wouldn’t want to hear. “We… Uh… It won’t be possible to do the project in my
house.”
It must be the longest phrase he’s ever said to a classmate, and Midorima feels
that he’s coming off too casual, too indifferent, too cold, and what is he
going to do if Takao decides they’re not working together anymore because he
is, indeed, a weirdo? Then he’ll have to talk to their teacher and it’s going
to be awkward and damn, he should’ve considered it, he should’ve known his
mother wouldn’t let them, he should’ve said‒
Takao doesn’t ask.
“Oh.” just looking momentarily puzzled, he shakes his head. “Well. My mom said
that as long as we do not burn the house down, then you can come whenever is
good to you. Tuesday and Thursdays are a thing, though; I kinda have
compromises… But we could make some research on the library first, and then
think about properly writing and putting the information together, since we
have a lot of time. What do you think?”
Midorima considers.
Takao’s mom doesn’t have any problems with her son bringing people home — apart
from the comment of burning the house, this is, but how would they do that,
anyway? — but his mom will probably be as comfortable with the idea of him
going to a stranger’s house as she is of him bringing said stranger to their
house. One way or another, he doesn’t think he has any option other than to do
the project in school; which, fairly speaking, probably isn’t going to be easy
— the old lady from library doesn’t like him, and neither do the computers,
always having weird problems whenever he tries to use them.
But it’s not as if Midorima is going to say any of this things, so he settles
for shrugging instead. Apparently, it’s not what Takao was expecting, because
he stays silent after the gesture.
More than that — is as if Midorima’s own lack of answers makes him uneasy
somehow, shoulders curved and tense and brows furrowed.
Midorima’s stomach drops and he frowns slightly, resisting the urge to act
defensively. He didn’t do anything. He knows he didn’t. Not this time. Takao
shouldn’t be like this — it’s not as if he was aiming for this reaction or…
Midorima is saved from saying anything potentially embarrassing when the bell
rings, startling them both.
“Look. Uh. I kinda have to go now, and I don’t know if we can talk about it
later, but try to decide what do you want to do until weekend, and then tell
me, will you, Midorima-kun?” Takao smiles, but it’s all wrong — this smile is
uncomfortable, failing at the edges, and doesn’t seem anything near its
enthusiastic self.
This time, he doesn’t wave, too — just stands from the desk where he was sat
and goes away as fast as his feet can carry him. Midorima watches him go and
tells himself that maybe it wasn’t a good idea, after all.
 
===============================================================================
 
When the first break of the day starts, Midorima hears him before hesees him,
and his heart does a dangerous flip in his chest.
“Mi-do-rin~” the voice is sweet, coated in fake cheerfulness, makes Midorima’s
skin crawl, and he doesn’t even need to turn; a soft hand touches his back and
soon there’s a smiling boy standing besides him.
Michio Nori. Seventeen. Dark brown hair and golden-ish cinnamon eyes that are
slightly round-shaped and big, and seem like they could swallow you whole.
Square jaw, pink lips, cheekbones sharp. They met last year, first one of high
school, and since then there hasn’t been a day the dread anticipation at the
bottom of Midorima’s stomach has gone away. He keeps waiting, waiting... For
what, he’s not right about, but it surely ain’t a good thing, and it doesn’t
even make sense. Michio’s not physically threatening — he’s not as tall as
Midorima and there are bulkier boys in the school —, but still… There’s
something about his eyes, or maybe the wicked grin permanently on his face,
that makes unnerving to be stared at by him, to have him talking to you.
They’re, obviously, not friends — because Midorima doesn’t have friends, and
Michio isn’t anyone’s friend.
“How are you today?~” around them, everyone keeps their walking to the
refectory, and it’s one of the few times Midorima wishes he could just follow
the crowd instead of searching for his own quiet spot to settle down and eat.
“... Fine.” he averts his gaze, slowing his pacing. The conversation will be
over quickly, because that’s what always happens, but he doesn’t want to risk
Michio deciding to stay with him the whole time. “I’m... Fine.”
“Oh~ that’s amazing, isn’t it? I heard Cancer was on the bottom of luckiest
signs of the day in Oha Asa this morning....” It wasn’t. It wasn’t the last.
Midorima knows it. “No one’s been bothering you, right?”
Midorima swallows.
There’s no apparent threat in Michio’s words. There never is. But whenever he
talks… Midorima doesn’t know what to expect, what to do from the things said to
him — he doesn’t know how to discern when the other boy is being truthful or
mocking, or just trying to get a reaction from him. Right now is no different.
“No. No one.”
Michio stares at him in silence for what seems a long, long time, but really
couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.
“Good.” he finally says. “I’ve got to be going, but we can always talk later,
right?” Michio breaks one more of his grins and moves away, his hands finally
leaving Midorima’s back. “Bye bye for now, Midorima-kun~”
Midorima’s heart stops.
As Michio goes away, he feels that claustrophobic sensation, as if he’s a bug
trapped in a spider’s web.
 
 
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     guess who is destroyed with the ending of Tokyo Ghoul √A
      
     Well... I tried. It's not 2k words, not yet, but almost there one day
     I'll still write a 2k words chapter
     AND we finally got to that point where I'll start writing about
     Midorima/Takao interactions instead of hugging my pillow and crying
     over my fictional babies or, you know, the fact that I can never
     write things the way I want to write them, but I always end up liking
     what I write.
     now, where is my coffee
     Any mistakes, or if you think I should tag something (or should be
     working harder on something, who knows), please, please, let me know!
     More than that, I just hope you enjoy.
Michio has always had the ability to make Midorima uncomfortable, but this time
it feels as if the mocking has gone too far.
He’s not uncomfortable, he’s freaking out. Michio has never called him anything
but Midorin, and he didn’t thought it would change anytime soon — but then, out
of the blue, he’s Midorima-kun and not Midorin anymore and it doesn’t seem like
Michio's messing with him, it seems as if Michio is warning him and this is the
kind of thing Midorima doesn’t want to deal with. The mockery, being messed
with — this he can shrug off and bury somewhere deep in his mind, pretending it
won’t eventually come out and make him miserable and sad and angry. The way his
stomach turns and he suddenly feels so small, so scared — it’s something he
can’t ignore, no matter how hard he pretends he does.
Midorima tries to calm down. Emphasis on tries. His heart is still beating
fast, he still feels trapped. The knowledge that in a few minutes he’ll have to
come back to class and face people he doesn’t want to face — and that probably
don’t want to face him either — makes him shiver. The day barely even began and
Midorima already feels like he shouldn’t be here, like he should be somewhere
else — somewhere where he could hide and not exist at all, not to think at all,
because this obligation of being here, of caring; he doesn’t think he’ll be
able to handle it. He’s just — he’s exhausted, and it seems as if he’s falling
apart and goddammit he’s tired, he’s tired, he’s so stupidly‒
“Damn!”
Midorima feels the painful bump on his shoulders and lifts up his eyes,
droplets of water falling from his hair — when did he get it wet? “Why don’t
you fucking look where‒” the boy stops mid-sentence.
Midorima doesn’t recognize the dirty blond hair, or the hazel iris staring at
him, even though the boy’s voice sounds kind of familiar — but then, they study
in the same school, and it’s probably a face he’s seen around.
“I’m sorry”, Midorima says quickly, stepping out of the way so the boy can
enter the bathroom and he, hopefully, can go out.
The blonde stands still for a moment, his brows furrowed. He almost looks as if
he’s going to say something — Midorima braces himself, because he doesn’t
really want any more problems in school —, but changes his mind and shrugs it
off instead, passing through him without wasting a second glance.
Midorima lets his shoulder fall in relief, not daring to sigh and risk the
other hearing him, and gets off the bathroom with sped up pacing.
Maybe if he goes back to class already he’ll be able to work his way out of the
anxiety still rising in his chest.
Maybe.
 
===============================================================================
 
Midorima doesn’t know why he’s still lying to himself.
 
===============================================================================
 
“Shintarou?” mom’s voice sounds worried when he comes in the car. “What’s
happened?”
Midorima feels his hands trembling slightly as he buckles up the seat belt.
It was stupid to think she wouldn’t ask, he thinks. He didn’t want her to. He
doesn’t want to bother her, make her worried over — it’s just foolish things,
it always is. But it’s not as if she hasn’t been bothered already — having to
leave her duty at the hospital because some guy from another class found him
throwing up in the bathroom when they both should be in class, and the
counsellor, hearing about it, decided to call her —, and he owes her this much.
Midorima swallows and looks out the window.
“I’m…” he hesitates. “It must’ve been something I ate.”
She analyzes his face, but Midorima shrugs off the worry
Nothing’s wrong.
Nothing’s wrong.
 
===============================================================================
 
Mom offers to try getting the day out — just so he won’t have to go to pick up
Kawori at school, and will have someone to take care of him in case he feels
sick again — but he declines. “It’s okay”, Midorima tells her, because he
doesn’t want her to think he can’t handle it, he doesn’t want her to think
about it, he doesn’t want to make her feel as if she’s not doing enough
already.
It’s not her fault. None of this is her fault, and the guilty, the heavy
feelings that surely would weight her down if she knew, wouldn’t change
anything.
At the end of the day, Midorima is still broken.
 
===============================================================================
 
Kawori is oddly quiet when he finally picks her up — a few minutes later,
because he ended up sleeping too much and lost track of time. She doesn’t seem
upset, though, just… Thoughtful. It’s not bad, not exactly, but Midorima is
uneasy — whenever she’s like this, it means there’s something coming.
His suspicions are confirmed when, two blocks from their house, she stops dead
on her tracks, and stares at him with sharp, intelligent eyes — too intelligent
for a seven year old girl.
“Are you okay?”
Midorima looks at her carefully.
Kawori’s always been like this. They don’t usually talk about things, not more
than the trivial, because they’re both too awkward to bring deep conversations
out of nowhere. But sometimes — sometimes she’ll look at him as if she knows,
as if his bare soul is exposed for her to see, and she’ll ask him about it.
Maybe it’s a kid’s thing, or maybe she’s just like that with everyone — the
thing is: she can get under his skin, and make him realize that he can pretend
whatever he wants to pretend, but people around him aren’t blind enough not to
see there’s something not quite right about him.
Midorima closes his hands so tightly, his fingernails cut through his palm.
“I am perfectly fine”, he answers, collected, and Kawori narrows her eyes.
“Liar”, she says, bitterly, but doesn’t push — she never does.
They start walking again, and the rest of the way home is made in complete
silence.
 
===============================================================================
 
Midorima’s voice seems struck in his throat. Hidden inside his pocket, the
oddly specific lucky item of the day — a Madoka Magica pen he borrowed from
Kawori — sets him at ease, but just until the girl in front of him frowns.
“Who?”
“... Takao. Do you know where he is?”
Midorima hopes she does. He truly, truly hopes she does — he doesn’t think
he’ll handle too well having to talk to anyone else; it’s already been a
struggle to build up his courage just so he wouldn’t immediately go to his
class and pretend he shouldn’t be somewhere else.
“Hm… I think I may have seen him in class B? But I’m not sure.”
“Oh.” oh. “Thank you.”
With a brief nod, she turns her back on him and goes away, and Midorima exhales
quite loudly.
Right. Right. He can do this. Building up the rest of bravery that’s still
left, he leaves the classroom and goes to — where did she say? Class B?
 
“Are you free tomorrow after school?” the words escape from his mouth before he
feels ready to voice them out.
Takao, seconds before typing something in his cell phone, lifts his eyes to
stare at him in confusion.
“Uh… I think so?”
Midorima resists the urge to nervously tug at his glasses, just so he will have
something to distract him from what he’s currently doing.
He’s coming off as a freak again, isn’t he?
“Do you think we could start…” he stutters. “D-Doing the research? For our
project. From Biochemistry Lab.”
Takao’s expression shifts to comprehension, a feeling akin to relief crossing
his eyes — Midorima feels something bubbling at the bottom of his stomach, but
he doesn’t want to think about what it means; he has his own problems he
doesn’t know how to deal with.
“Oh, that.” Takao furrows his brows for a moment. “I think it’s okay? I mean.
Sure.”
Something about the way he says it — voice quiet, unsure, so different from
what Midorima is used to — makes Midorima’s chest tighten.
“I. Uh. Okay.” he whispers. And he’s ready to turn his back to Takao and go
away, he is, but Midorima’s always running — from people, from situations, from
himself, from the truth —, and he doesn’t want to. If it’s bad enough for
Kawori to stare at him the way she did yesterday afternoon, he should be trying
harder. If he doesn’t want to get better, doesn’t even want to try, who will do
it for him, after all?
It’s not a good reason. Certainly not. But it’s what he has now.
Hesitantly, tentatively, Midorima tugs the corner of his lips upwards.
“See you tomorrow, then?”
Maybe he’s so awkward and pathetic, or maybe he’s doing something right —
Midorima definitely doesn’t want to know —; the fact is that Takao looks
surprised at the attempt of a smile. Surprised enough that he himself smiles,
almost in reflex, graceful and natural in a way Midorima knows he won’t be
achieving anytime soon.
“Yeah. Of course.”
Midorima nods. Then, as quick as he can without rushing out of sight and
looking too desperate, starts walking, heading to his class.
His heart feels as if it’s trying to flee from his chest, and it’s not a
pleasant feeling. Not at all.
 
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     It started out apparently with nothing but angst and Midorima, but
     somewhere along the way my fingers started twitching for some fluff
     and talks about classical music, and then I couldn't stop.
     I regret nothing.
     also: guess who finally wrote a 2k word chapter?
     Any mistakes, or if you think I should tag something (or should be
     working harder on something, who knows), please, please, let me know!
     More than that, I just hope you enjoy :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Midorima can’t sleep. He rolls through his bed, kicking the blankets to and
fro, changing his pillow, and doesn’t matter what he does, he can’t sleep.
He’s worried. And anxious. More than the usual, this is. He passes the events
of the day, and the day before, through his mind, and he can’t help but to
think he’s just getting ahead of himself, rushing things, making the same
mistakes again and again and again, because it seems like the only thing he
manages to do without messing anything up in the process.
He’s worrying mom, and he’s worrying his young sister, and if it gets worse,
even father will hear a word about him — he doesn't want father to hear about
this. He’s telling himself nothing will change, yet, some part of him is still
desperately trying to reach out for others, and it makes him wish for Takao to
be the one who will see past the misjudgements — makes him start to put his
hopes high, when he promised he wouldn’t do it anymore.
Midorima knows better than to expect anything from anyone — the only thing he
can count on is his luck, even when fate doesn’t seem to like him that much —,
but the same part of him that wants to make friends is the part of him that
wants to believe again, trust again, and for more he thinks he can keep it
down, there’s still the possibility that he can’t.
Midorima sighs, and does what seems like the only thing he can do now: waits
for the morning to come.
 
===============================================================================
 
Midorima is restless. His hands keep fidgeting the loose button of his shirt,
his foot tapping rhythmically on the ground, his lips red and raw from the
amount of times he bit them already. It’s not been not even five minutes since
the bell rang, but he feels as it’s been forever.
Should he be waiting here, in the courtyard? Should he be in the library
already? He didn’t ask, and Takao didn’t tell; but now, thinking about it, he
probably should’ve said something — anything would be better than waiting
without knowing what to do.
When Takao finally shows up, he’s so nervous he thinks he might throw up.
“Hey.” the boy greets him.
Midorima breathes, the lump in his throat softening just a bit.
“Hey.”
“You’re coming?” Takao turns his head just slightly, indicating the direction
they should go, and Midorima nods.
He doesn’t trust enough his voice to do more than just that, even as he follows
Takao through the corridors — he hopes it’s not as weird as it feels.
 
===============================================================================
 
“Ok.” Takao has a thoughtful look on his face, biting his lower lip softly
while furrowing his brows. “We have to take the series of experiments we did
along the month, plus the ones we’re still going to do, and write reports about
them. Scientifics procediments, chemical formulas, the occasional balancing and
double replacement. Am I forgetting something?”
“Percentage error, materials, goal and introduction?” Midorima suggests.
If he’s going to be sincere with himself, he’s surprised. Pleasantly surprised.
It’s not as if anyone ever wanted to do school projects with him, but Midorima
knows what usually happens in these situations — one does the work while the
other just sits and does nothing at all. Part of him kind of had been expecting
Takao to carelessly laid back in his chair and keep asking if Midorima had
already finished the research, because he had more important things to do.
It’s probably the first time he’s glad he was wrong.
 
“So.” Takao looks at the books in his hands in a not-much-excited way. “Shall
we start?”
 
===============================================================================
 
The first experiment which they are going to do the research is about water
treatment. It’s a quite boring subject, in Midorima’s opinion, but this is just
because he likes chemical equations more.
Mostly, they don’t talk. Takao shuffles through the pages of some books, he
shuffles through the pages of some other books, and that’s everything. It’s not
as awkward as he thought it would be. In truth, it’s quite… Comfortable, if
Midorima dares to guess. Silence is something he can deal with, he thinks, and
maybe it’s okay.
Maybe he can do this.
 
===============================================================================
 
Maybe he can do this, Midorima repeats mentally, and forces himself to talk.
“So… Tomorrow…”
“I’m busy.” Takao is quick to answer. “Tuesdays and Thursdays, remember?” he
sounds amused.
“Oh.” suddenly, looking at his shoes is a very interesting thing to do. “Then,
uh‒”
“Friday!” the black haired boy startles him, making him look up again, and
Takao seems surprised himself with his outburst, but still manages to proceed,
a lot calmer. “I may be free on Friday.”
Quietly, maybe too eager, Midorima nods.
When they part ways, there’s a tiny, tiny, tiny bit of excitement growing
inside him.
 
===============================================================================
 
Thursday comes and goes without any accidents.
Michio doesn’t come to mess with him.
He doesn’t see Takao through the day — not that he expected to.
Mom smiles at him during lunch, while Kawori tries to rub the tomato sauce off
her face.
Midorima feels strangely ok.
 
 
Friday is the same thing as Wednesday. Quietly, they search for interesting
facts about water treatment, and it’s easy. Easier than Midorima could’ve hoped
for it to be.
 
 
Monday they decide to start the next part of the project. Tyndall scattering.
Midorima pretends not to see Takao scribbling triangle shapes in his notebook
 
 
Tuesday, Midorima is anxious. It’s been a week since Michio, and he didn’t as
much as spotted the other in school grounds. He’s not stupid enough to think it
means he can have a moment of quietness.
Still, the day comes and goes… And nothing happens.
Midorima feels sick.
He doesn’t know what’s worse: the anticipation of expecting Michio, or actually
having the boy coming to talk to him.
 
 
Wednesday, someone manages to catch his lucky item from his desk when he’s not
paying enough attention. He doesn’t see it until after the second break of the
day, and looking at the shattered polycarbonate plastic in his desk, Midorima
can’t help but to think his mom’s going to kill him.
(the possibility of getting another Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers CD before
going home is null; there’s no nearby store where he could buy it, and if he
still searches for one, he’s going to be late to lunch — she’ll want to know
why he’s late, and it’ll be useless trying to lie)
The whole time they’re at the library, Takao looks at him in a weird way, as if
realizing something’s not quite right, but he doesn’t ask.
Midorima feels miserable.
 
He thinks he’ll be grounded. For life, quite possibly. But mom doesn’t as much
as bats an eyelash when he shows her the broken CD — she waves it off as an
accident, and asks him to just be a bit more careful next time.
She doesn’t even seems disappointed.
Midorima throws the thing in the trash can, astonished, but not him, nor
Kawori, ask mom why she’s so happy.
 
 
Thursday, Midorima goes through the whole day without letting go of the hand
mirror.

On Friday, when class ends, there’s the usual anxiety nagging up at the back of
his neck. The uneasiness softens a bit the moment he leaves the class and spots
on Takao waiting for him.
The boy furrows his brows as Midorima approaches him, staring at the Totoro
pillow firmly stuck under the other’s arm, but the moment he opens his mouth to
ask about it, he seems to change his mind.
“Shall we go?”, he says instead, and Midorima just nods.
 
 
It’s not that they decide to take a break already, or that they’re too ahead of
the work, but it’s a mutual agreement that on Monday they’re not staying after
class.
Or, at least, Takao’s not. Midorima isn’t upset, even because he said it was
okay; it just happens that he is liking the library more than he thought he
could, especially considering Mrs. Shiro still looks at him like he offended
her in some way — though he’s starting to think it’s not personal, just a
consequence of working with teenagers who don’t respect the silence rule.
However, when the last bell of the day rings, he catches the yellow toothbrush
that’s on his desk, his bag, and goes off to the library trying not to mind
about people whispering and looking at him as if they’ve never seen carrying
lucky items that are bigger than a toothbrush.
The library is a lot quieter without the soft sound of Takao’s feet tapping the
ground, or his occasional yawns — it’s even uncomfortable when Midorima looks
up to check if he’s not sleeping, maybe ask if they could put this or that in
their record, just to remember that Takao’s home.
Midorima feels lonely.
 
 
On Wednesday, they’re again at the library. Both of them. And even though
there’s no apparent reason to feel like this, Midorima thinks there’s something
off about Takao — the way his eyes drift from the paragraph he should be
reading to everywhere else, his lips pressed in an almost tight line.
Midorima is still thinking about ask if everything’s ok — would Takao even
answer? It’s not his business, after all —, when said boy decides to poke him
on the arm with a pencil.
“Midorima-kun.” he says under his breath, just so they won’t disturb the
calmness of the usually quiet place.
“... Yeah?” Midorima looks at him with curiosity. Did Takao caught him staring?
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
Not what he was expecting. His lips twitch slightly, wanting to grimace, but
Midorima manages to stop.
“I don’t really. Uh. Listen to music.”
“None?” Takao’s mouth is agape. “Aw, c’mon, there must be something you like to
hear from time to time!”
Midorima frowns slightly, but considers.
“I… Classical.” maybe.
“Ohh… Things like Beethoven, then?”
“Actually, I prefer Chopin. Sometimes... Kreisler and… Paganini, too.”
Bortkiewicz, his mind supplies, but by the confused look in Takao’s face,
Midorima knows it would be no use — still, he guesses it’s ok for him to ask
the same. “What about you?”
“Nah… The usual stuff.” Takao shrugs, apparently not much interested in sharing
his musical taste. “Some of this, some of that… American bands, when I’m the
mood… It practically sums up.”
Midorima could let slip an “oh”, but decides to turn his eyes to the book in
his hands instead.
Well.
At least he can say he tried.
 
He listens to Tchaikovsky that night.
 
 
“This doesn’t make any sense”, Takao complains on Friday, while they’re solving
equations, and Midorima can barely hold back the snort. Takao stares at him.
“What?”
“Of course it doesn’t make sense”, he says, as a matter-of-factly, and pushes
his glasses up his nose. “You’re doing it wrong.”
And you used to ask yourself why you didn’t have friends.
Midorima braces himself for a rude remark, knowing that he’s already tempted
fate more than once these days, but Takao only stares at him in silence for a
few seconds, as if weighing his actions, before sighing and pouting in a
overly-dramatic way, his eyes looking more amused than they should be.
“Damn, Shin-chan, you’re too cruel! I’m trying here!”
Shin… Chan? For a moment Midorima is sure he misheard, but then he stares at
the boy besides him, and Takao is still pouting.
Not even Kawori calls him like this, and she’s his sister!
“Don’t call me that”. he’s serious, very serious, about it, but he also feels
the heat coming up his cheeks, and Takao just laughs.
 
“Shin-chan”, Midorima mutters to himself, with his head in his pillow and his
hands close to his chest. He thinks about how comfortable Takao looked while
saying it, the over familiar nickname rolling off his tongue as if he’s never
called Midorima anything but it.
A part of him wants to be angry — when did he give the other the permission to
call him by his first name? —, another is just mildly confused.
What does it mean, anyway?
“Idiot”, he says to no one, and turns to sleep with a smile threatening to show
up on his lips.
 
 
Monday, someone throws a paper ball on his desk during English class.
Midorima frowns at it, and, before the teacher sees and thinks he’s talking
with someone, hides it in his bag.
(later, when he remembered about it, he would’ve thrown it away — if the paper
was still in his bag, this is)
 
 
It’s Wednesday. Again. Takao greets him with an over-excited “Hey, Shin-chan!”
that he refuses to acknowledge — doesn’t matter what he says, the other decided
to stick with the nickname, and doesn’t seem like letting it go so fast —, and
they head together to the library, Takao humming softly while they walk.
It’s no big deal, Midorima barely notices it, until a few known chords reach
his ears, and he stops dead on his tracks.
“Are you…” he turns to the boy besides him. “Is it Schön Rosmarin?”
Takao stops humming.
“Uh… Yes?” he lifts one eyebrow, confused.
Midorima just blinks at him.
 
Midorima wonders if Takao did search classical music just so he could mess with
him — but then he realizes it would make no sense; it’s not as if the other
hadn’t already had the chance to mock him in a bunch of situations in the last
days, yet, he didn’t, not even once. It would be strange for him to start now.
(really, he just wants to understand why, from all the songs and composers
Takao could’ve heard, he chose the ones he did)
 
“Recitative and Scherzo-Caprice isn’t that good, Shin-chan, just get over it.”
Midorima huffs in disagreement, but doesn’t say a thing.
(mental note: remember to bring the song for Takao to hear, and tell him all
the reasons why it is, indeed, a good song)
 
 
Maybe that wasn’t the best decision he could’ve taken. Monday, Takao’s laughter
is so loud both of them get kicked out of the library — and even then he
doesn’t stop laughing, clutching to his stomach tightly.
Midorima is left standing awkwardly besides him, asking himself what there is
of so much fun about the whole situation.
(“I wasn’t being serious”, is what Takao will tell him when he stops, a few
minutes later. “I was just teasing you, Shin-chan!” and then, he will take a
deep breath, still smiling. “Since we can’t do any more research today, don’t
you want to go to that grocery store with me and buy an ice cream? I’m melting
here.”)
 
Later that day, while coming home, Midorima feels lighter than he’s ever been.
It’s not a promise, he knows. The way Takao’s smile gives him a funny feeling
at the bottom of his stomach, an almost unbearable wish to smile, too, the way
the other boy manages to make him feel at ease…
It’s not a promise, Midorima tells himself, but it may be the beginning of
something good.
Chapter End Notes
     I can't get Schön Rosmarin out of my head someone help me
      
      
     A part of me thinks I rushed things up, but I'm still happy with the
     chapter. If you think I should slow down or something, just tell me,
     ok?
     I have no idea when I'll be updating again, but my tests are ending
     soon, and hopefully I won't take that long.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     Aaand more family interaction! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ don't get me wrong, I
     want more than anything to write about Takao, but I think Midorima's
     development is needed before anything between them can, like, start.
     First there was that amazement; he was kind of putting Takao on a
     pedestal because Takao talked to him, because Takao smiled at him and
     didn't make him feel like a total weirdo. It's complicated to write a
     relationship that develops from this kind of situation, because, to
     me, it feels like he would be with Takao more for admiration than for
     actually liking him — he would be with Takao and feel grateful that
     someone could like him enough to have him tag along.
     That's not healthy, not at all. First, he needs to know Takao. He
     needs to meet the person Takao is, not the one he thought Takao to
     be. And then — then things can start from there.
     But of course it's not that simple. Midorima needs to learn to love
     himself, too; otherwise, he'll forever be stuck on that "grateful
     that someone could like him enough to have him tag along". Things
     like this don't happen in a day; it takes time. It takes time, and
     support, and I don't want to have his family here just to add drama —
     I want them to be important on his development, I want them to help
     him, I want them to be there for him.
     With this chapter, I think I tried to show that even though he's
     doing better, there's still a long road for him to cross. Some things
     he'll need to figure out by himself; some things he'll need a little
     push. And that — that's absolutely okay.
     Summarizing a bit: this chapter is angsty with family fluff. I loved
     writing it, and it kinda helped me a lot. Day 27 I discovered I
     didn't score a grade high enough on the tests I needed, and it really
     affected my humour — writing this chapter gave me the chance to
     unwind, and I'm feeling much better already.
     If you find any typos, or think I should tag something, or even work
     harder on something, please, just let me know! More than that, I just
     hope you enjoy :)
     P.S.: I'm really, really sorry, but at the current moment I have no
     idea how to answer the two comments left on the last chapter! D: I
     totally suck at socializing, even through internet. So, to Caellee
     and TheGuestGirl, my sincere apologies. ASAP, I'll still answer both
     of you, I swear.
It’s mom who starts with the weird glances at him. On a Tuesday, it’s raining
after school, and she calls him to tell she’s coming — he didn’t bring an
umbrella, and she doesn’t want to risk him getting sick.
He has his earphones — new and shiny ones that he barely ever used — on when he
enters the car, his fingers unconsciously tapping his knees at the music rhythm
— Daughtry, which he found  a few nights ago while browsing new bands on
internet, trying to guess what is Takao’s kind of music; he couldn’t really
settle for one, but ended up with a few more songs in his phone after that. He
greets mom in his usual silent way, and she stares at him in what seems like
confusion.
It’s ok on the first few seconds; but when a whole minute pass by, Midorima
feels himself getting tense, and takes the earphones off, not caring enough to
switch the music off.
“Did… Did I do something?” he asks quietly, just barely hesitating. He tries
recalling the last days, but he can’t remember if he gave her any reason to be
mad or disappointed — which is, frankly, a little over scary, just edging
terrifying.
Midorima’s always been good at remembering things he did wrong.
Mom shakes her head.
“No.”
He almost lifts his hands to push up his glasses, but manages to stop himself
just in time.
Okay.
Okay.
 
Kawori starts next; quick glances during lunch — she looks the other way
whenever their eyes meet —, and unusual silence when they’re coming home from
her school — even when Midorima tries (and he’s not that good at coming up with
subjects for small or long talks), the only thing he gets is short,
monosyllabic answers that do nothing to soften his uneasiness. She’s subtler
than their mom — whether it’s better this way, or even worse, he can’t quite
decide.
Midorima doesn’t like to be analyzed. He doesn’t like the self-consciousness
that comes from when you know someone’s watching you closely: the way you talk,
the way you walk, the way you react and the way you do the things you do.
He feels uncomfortable. Like he should be being defensive in his own house, and
the only real place where he’s never needed to be anything but himself has ever
been his bedroom, but at least before he could shake off the feeling — at least
before he could pretend there wasn’t that much flaws for people to stare at and
point out, at least he could feel that tiny bit of comfort in his own skin.
Now he can’t.
 
(If Takao realizes he’s been acting stranger lately, he doesn’t say a thing.
It’s a bit relaxing for Midorima when he doesn’t stare, nor treats him any
different than he did before — at least one thing from last weeks didn’t
change; Midorima doesn’t think he’d be able to stand it if even this, whatever
it is, became strange, because he knows it’s something he needs. He needs the
certainty that comes with routine; he needs to know there's something he can
still rely on and maybe not believe, but hope that it will keep being the way
it is — hoping that it can keep him sane even when he feels like crumbling.)
 
Things escalate quickly. The glances start on Tuesday — by Saturday, Kawori is
thoughtful during dinner, and Midorima knows she wants to ask him something (he
just doesn’t expect her to do it in front of their mom).
After dinner, which is usually served at 8 p.m., they had always made a thing
of staying on living room together for a while; it’s almost family tradition by
now.
Mom is on the couch, her posture relaxed, reading a magazine. Kawori has her
head in mom’s lap, playing something on her cell phone. Midorima’s on the
floor, sitting next to the small table, his eyes stuck to his homework while
his mind drifts somewhere else — he has his earphones on, what seems to be
becoming an habit, but the music is low enough that he can hear the soft
shuffle of pages of the magazine in his mom’s hands and the action sounds
coming from Kawori’s game.
It’s everything normal until his sister decides to break the silence.
“Did something happen?”
Midorima freezes. Then, tentatively, he turns his eyes at her in confusion.
Kawori isn’t even staring at him, her eyes still glued to her cell phone, and
mom acts as if she didn’t hear a thing. There’s something strange about the
scene, as if they’re doing it on purpose just to wreck his nerves, but —
Midorima is honestly confused. First of all, because he doesn’t think he gave
his sister any reason to think something happened. Secondly, because she never
asked anything about it in front of mom.
“... No?” Midorima fights the urge to frown. His stomach is starting to knot,
and it takes all he has not to let his fingers shake.
He knew he had done something wrong. He knew. He just doesn’t know what he did,
and now the only thing he can do is not to shrink and try to fix whatever is
that he messed up.
Kawori shrugs.
“You look happy.”
Her statement hits him like a ton of bricks, all apologies already in his head
fading with the blink of an eye.
“I look…” he hesitates. That’s not what he was expecting. Not at all. “Do I?”
“Yes”.
Kawori doesn’t take her eyes out of the game, and mom still acts as if she’s
not in the room, but Midorima knows they’re both analyzing him, and it makes
him uneasy. It feels like a test — should he have a ready answer to it? Because
he has no idea what he’s supposed to say. A part of him just wants to shrug off
the observation, and hide under the pretext of homework — another one wants to
run away to his bedroom and don’t leave his bed until absolutely necessary.
Midorima ends up hearing none.
“I…” his lips feel dry. “I guess that’s a good thing.”
The shuffling sound stops. Kawori seems baffled for a moment, turning her eyes
to him, and mom doesn’t even pretend to read anything anymore — both of them
stare at him in astonishment.
Then, slowly, his sister’s lips turn upwards.
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     GUESS WHO'S LATE WITH THE CHAPTER.
     Yep. That's me. Sincerely, I didn't think it would take this much of
     time writing, since I already knew what was going to happen; when it
     came to actually typing, though, I couldn't find the words that
     sounded right. BUT today I woke up and told myself: you're going to
     study to your test, and when you're done, you'll finish that chapter,
     no matter what. And then, after a lot of tears and anger and
     frustrated groans at the keyboard, here I am. okay, i'm being
     dramatic
     Still. Am I the only one who feels absurdly happy when I'm about to
     post the chapter? Because, really.
     i know i'm just being weird but i'm happy, ok, don't judge me
     ALSO before I forget: all the comments were finally (FINALLY, F-I-N-
     A-L-L-Y) answered! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ if I ever take this long to answer
     any of you again, feel free to call me out on it, right?
     If you find any typos, or think I should tag something, or even work
     harder on something, please, just let me know!
     More than that, I just hope you enjoy :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It’s Monday, and Midorima goes out to find Takao, hands shaking, Michio’s smile
still in his mind.
You seem different, Midorima-kun, was what he had said. And Midorima, being
Midorima, couldn’t answer him, couldn’t find his voice to do so, couldn’t even
lift up his eyes to stare at the other boy. That tiny bit of bravery that
showed up when he talked to Kawori on Saturday was gone, and all he could do
was to hope Michio would leave him alone.
How pathetic was that? Midorima can’t even hide it when he finally spots Takao
waiting for him at the door of the library — the way Takao’s eyes stare at his
trembling hands makes Midorima want to go away. He goes so far as to open his
mouth, a soft “did” leaving his lips in an almost worried voice — and Midorima
knows he won’t be able to answer, not again, not this time, maybe not ever —,
but ends up changing his mind, and for this Midorima is grateful.
They head to the library in silence.
 
Takao smiles more that day, calling him Shin-chan, bringing up random questions
just when tiredness starts to creep up Midorima’s bones. He goes so far as to
start humming classical songs under his breath and ask if the other boy doesn’t
want to join him.
Midorima kinda does, but he knows he’ll feel a lot calmer if he gets just to
hear Takao instead of trying to keep up when he can barely pay attention to
what he’s doing — so he just shakes his head softly, trying not to feel guilty
when Takao’s shoulders slump slightly.
He doesn’t understand if it’s all Takao trying to cheer him up, or it’s just
wishful thinking of his part — maybe a bit of both, if Midorima dares to guess
—, but he really isn’t in the mood. Still, he does feel bad when Takao
apparently gives up the task, his eyes averting to the book in his hands.
If only he could shrug it off. Then maybe it would be one less reason as to why
Takao probably won’t talk to him again once the project is over.
 
“Shin-chan.”
Midorima turns his face to stare carefully at Takao, wondering himself why the
other boy is whispering as if he’s telling a secret.
“Yes?” he asks instead, his voice just as quiet as Takao’s.
“Do you want to go get an ice cream?”
Midorima knows he should refuse — the first time he absolutely forgot lunch,
and then proceeded to almost tell mom he ate sweets before coming home —, but
Takao is smiling again, and he doesn’t want to be the one to clean it off his
face.
He ends up nodding hesitantly.
 
He gets a matcha ice, and Takao, a mint chocolate chip one, and they proceed to
sit side by side on the bench by the store.
It’s good. Calming. Quiet. The day isn’t too hot, nor too cold, and the wind
blows softly on Midorima’s face. He stares at Takao, and the other boy seems
comfortable enough, even though they haven’t exchanged nothing but a few words
here and there. The anxiety nagging at the back of his neck softens a little —
for now, as it seems, it’s okay. They’re okay.
 
He fully intends on leaving like he always does — like both of them always do,
nothing but a shy “goodbye” whispered under their breaths —, but the moment he
starts to stand up, Takao’s hand touches his shoulder, and Midorima stops mid-
act. Objectively, he knows Takao’s never said or did anything in order to mock
him — not that he knows, at least —, but it doesn’t change the fact that his
heart skips a beat.
His uneasiness must show on his face somehow, because the boy is quick to let
go, but his gaze keeps locked on Midorima.
“Look…” he starts as if in doubt before gaining confidence. “Tomorrow… Me and a
few other boys use to play basketball in that old court next to the center
park. I don’t even know if you play but… Would you like joining us?”
Midorima stares at him in what he hopes to be astonishment, and Takao’s
shoulders visibly slump — he seems a bit lost as for what to do, biting his
lips so hard it draws a bit of blood.
“I mean, it’s totally ok if you don’t want to! I just… I thought you might…”
Takao hesitates. “Never mind.”
“Wait.” the word leaves his mouth without his consent — and by the way Takao’s
eyes get wider, Midorima knows he wasn’t expecting it, either. “I…” he has no
idea of what he should say, but maybe it’s just his brain having a hard time
catching up, because his lips keep moving. “I have to talk to my mother first.
I don’t know if she’ll let me.”
For a second, Takao does nothing but to squint, and Midorima tries not to look
away.
Then, the boy flashes a smile.
“Ok then, Shin-chan! Would you mind me passing you my phone number? This way
you can message me to tell if you'll go.”
 
The warm feeling of his hand accompanies Midorima home.
(it feels good)
 
===============================================================================
 
The realization just crashes on him when, during lunch, Kawori says something
about going to a friend’s house the next day. Mom says she can go, and, for a
moment, a wave of excitement runs through his body. It’s short lived, though —
because his sister can go to places, he tells himself, it doesn’t mean he can
do the same.
Midorima tries to swallow, the food like paper in his mouth. His hands are
sweating when he finally gives up and leaves the hashi over his half-full bowl.
Still, he waits for the sound of Kawori opening the shower upstairs before
saying anything.
“Mom.”
She glances at him for a moment before turning to look at the dishes she’s
washing again.
“Yes?”
Midorima breathes. Keep calm, he tells himself. You’re not doing anything
wrong. Somehow, it works — his heart still beats wildly in his chest, but at
least he doesn’t feel like he’s going to throw up.
“Tomorrow, can I… Can I go play basketball next to the center park with Takao?
After‒ after school, if that’s okay?” his voice doesn’t even fail this time,
and Midorima is grateful for it. A part of him thinks she’ll probably deny him,
just like she did when he asked if he could bring Takao home, but that was a
while ago, and maybe she’s changed his mind?
He’s shocked when she doesn’t hesitate.
“Is Takao that boy from your school? With whom you’re doing that project?”
She looks quite surprised. Midorima can understand — the last time he hung out
with anyone was… Well. Never.
“Yes.”
Midorima tries to think of a reason to convince her to let him go, but he can’t
come up with any. Maybe if he says he really, really wants to go? But then, he
doesn’t know if he wants to go. He wants to be with Takao, yes, but this time
it isn’t going to be just them, and Midorima’s never been that good at social
interaction.
If anything, he’s afraid — afraid of what it may mean, of what it may be,
afraid of embarrassing himself in front of a person he’s coming to like and in
front of strangers who will surely laugh, afraid that Takao will start to see
him as everyone sees him (the same old Midorima, the weird kid, the loner
without friends); Midorima’s afraid —, and nothing good ever comes from when he
does things without thinking about the consequences before — but whenever he
thinks about the consequences, he wants to give up.
Mom seems oblivious to the conflicting moment he’s facing — she tilts her head
for a moment, but answers without a second thought.
“Okay. As long as you don’t come home too late, I don’t see why would it be a
problem.”
Her voice scares most of the doubts of Midorima’s head away. He stares at his
hands, realizing just now that they’re shaking softly.
“I…” he tries to keep himself from sounding too hopeful. “Does this mean I can
go?”
Mom smiles.
“Yes, dear. You can go.”
Chapter End Notes
     Randomly: guess who's tests are starting again? yes, i am very much
     terrified again, why is this thing so hard, damn
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