Anime Oneshots (Mostly Hurt/Comfort)

Haikyuu - BokuAkaKuroKen - A Matter Of Trusting Yourself.

This is Part Two of the BokuAkaKuroKen mental/neurological disorder series! This time, you get to see Akaashi's disorder and how it manifests itself. However there are many, many types that someone can have, so don't take his actions and thoughts as the only category of symptoms for this disorder.

TW: Panic Attack, Intrusive Thoughts, and Graphic Description of Violence (even if they're thoughts, they are in enough detail to warrant a warning).

OCD. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. What many people see as meticulously arranging differently coloured or sized items in your pencil case, what thousands think of as mere perfectionism, and what millions of people believe is just scrubbing the surface of your marble counter before a guest enters your home.

The truth is far more dreadful, disastrous, and deeper than any shallow deceptions that those people can comprehend. The truth, is that OCD is debilitating, repeatedly stabbing, intrusive thoughts piercing your skull with terror, clouding your mind under the guise of fear, forcing you to comply with the darkest voices in your head...

Voices that ultimately do not make any sense at all, but simultaneously flow so freely through your rushing river of a mind, that all you can attempt to do to save yourself is to struggle to the surface of tranquility, reaching for the light of courage that resides deeper in your heart than you can ever ponder, by riding along the waves of the words that your brain screams. Performing these random ruminations and completely rigid rituals will hopefully release you from this devilish, apocalyptic, relentless whirlpool spiralling in circles amongst circles, leaving you to uncontrollably flail, encompassed by a suffocating bubble of panic crawling through your bones like a scorpion.

It may seem completely stupid to you; it admittedly feels that way as soon as my heart darkens, the infinite universe eternally collapsing onto me whenever the security of tapping thrice is stolen from my soul, or times when the kitchen is calling, shrieking my name as if I am its only lifeline, like I do not have three, more than capable boyfriends that could utilise those sharp, shining objects without the tsunami of threats filling my mind and sticking to my throat.

It isn't irrational, though. It isn't stupid. It isn't childish, paranoid, or superstitious behaviour. It is life or death, and no matter whether you love it or loathe it, those routines, the compulsions, are the harnesses that always catch you as the invisible, zooming gusts of wind cause you to rapidly fall from the tightrope that you keep attempting to latch your footsteps onto, knowing that there will always be a day when you get violently shoved from the serenity that had been previously swimming through your consciousness.

Even something as seemingly insignificant as breakfast can slither like a rattlesnake into your searing skull, swiftly formulating a sizzling pain behind your eyes, but a trembling, tingling hurt that you will always be able to clearly see, as if your deepest, darkest fears are sat right in front of you...

What would it be like to kill someone?

My feet freeze and the wooden planks obnoxiously creak beneath the heels, the colourful entourage of pinks, purples and oranges slowly creeping in as the sun steadily rises, but it seems as though the light never actually reaches my sapphire irises, those eight minutes suddenly stopping, the world tilting while questions explode like fireworks in my mind.

Do I really want to kill someone?

No, I don't. The question is answered in a matter of milliseconds, however my heart starts to become strangled by a vice that will not cease wrapping around it, a familiar stinging sensation filling my soul, the feeling of tachycardia rising in my chest. Glimpsing at the rosy, early morning sky once more, determination simultaneously flashes like a lightning bolt of inspiration in the midst of the rolling thunder of anxiety.