What Could Have Been (Bokuakaa)

{eight}

Keiji left the shop about an hour later, feeling exhausted from the day's high and trying to keep up with Bokuto's hyperactivity. He excuses himself as politely as he could and gets on the bus, keeping an eye in the back of his head.

As he glances around at the people sitting near him, he clenches his teeth while massaging his forearm. He starts assessing each passenger, looking for anything out of place or some kind of clue that could tell him they're mafia.

A woman reading a book has a small tear in her stockings, a man on his phone glances up when he notices Akaashi staring, an elderly woman adjusts in her seat, a few middle school kids are invested in their gaming device. He hears someone clear their throat, making him turn his head. A phone rings with a romantic song and a young girl answers it. A little kid sneezes next to his mom who gives him a tissue. A few notifications ring from a nearby device. The bus hops through a small pothole.

His clenched teeth grind together, his mouth is dry and his hand rubbing on his arm has gathered a layer of sweat. He can't focus on anything that his eyes are called to anymore until the driver announces his stop.

He perks his head up and quickly stands at the stop of the bus, swiveling his head to see if anyone is getting off with him. He's in the clear. When the bus pulls away, he runs sloppily in the direction of the estate, tripping over the slightest elevation in the sidewalk and his sweaty hands swinging at his sides. The paranoia when he can't think straight is horrifying.

The moment he gets home and in his room, he drops his bag and falls onto his bed, peeling out of his jacket. With his eyes closed and in his secluded room, he wants to punch himself. Tendou had given him a larger dose of E than usual, and while the hours he spent with his old friend were exhilarating, the comedown was getting bad.

He heard his door open and groaned, not looking up to see who was there.

"Keiji, Gorou's taking us all out for Suppon, please get dressed." It was his mother.

"I'm not hungry," he grunts, his face still squished against his pillow.

She sighs. "I'll tell him that you're not coming then. You should take a shower, you don't look so good." The door closes with her exit.

--

Keiji doesn't remember when he passed out, but he does know he woke up in the middle of the night, wrapped in his sweaty school clothes. His phone reads 11:42 pm when he picks it up as the illuminated screen nearly blinds him.

He pushes himself from the sheets and pulls his shirt off, feeling the cold air veil his skin. Sweating it out isn't the worst way to get over a comedown, but he still feels incredibly annoyed and irritable. He figures it'll start to wear off throughout the rest of the day.

For now, he gets undressed and walks to take a bath. The water encases his body and he leans his head back. The water isn't hot how he usually likes it because he still feels like he's overheating, a hot bath would feel like death.

While he washes, he runs his hands over his arms and his torso, lingering around his scars, memories of how he got them seeping into the water. Each one feels decades away when, in reality, most of these marks were collected in the past year or two. The stories are nearly forgettable due to the fog laid over the trauma.

After completely washing himself, he stays in the bath for a while, dissociating and just swaying his hand back and forth across the surface of the water. When he finally does get out and drain the water, his hands are completely wrinkled and he's rather cold.

He dresses himself in shorts, a t-shirt, and a large hoodie before he walks down the hall. The door he opens leads to a dark room, only illuminated by the moonlight. He closes the door behind him and walks straight ahead, sitting on his knees and grabbing a matchbox the light the candles in front of him.