Is he really there?
Those words plague Kuroo Tetsurou's mind. They were inked on his wrist in messy writing with scratch marks as if his soulmate's hand was never stable. It was such a strange question.
"Stop looking at it, you look like an idio...
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・・・ ・・・ ・・・
Kuroo sighs, eyes closing and head dropping back. He trusted Kenma to not let him walk into a wall as they headed home. He opened them again, staring at the barely cloudy sky. Life was cruel. It really was. "What's that sigh for?" Kenma asks. "Your personal love triangle again?" Kuroo made a noise of distaste. "Yeah," he huffs. Life was cruel. It told him that he quite literally had a predestined partner. Somebody who was perfect for him, and who he was perfect for. He didn't know what they were like, maybe a little weird judging by the sentence and handwriting on his wrist, but he would love them anyway. Yet, at the same time, life gave him the prettiest girl to stare at almost every lunchtime. She was absolutely gorgeous. Sometimes he wondered if her skin and hair were soft, how they would feel if he hugged her. Her voice was as angelic and smooth as she appeared to be. Unlike his soulmate who was a complete mystery, he could see a future with her perfectly, even though he didn't know much about her. Kenma shrugged his shoulders a little. He really didn't understand how Kuroo could find any enjoyment staring at Yoshioka Hana. Really, Kenma could never imagine staring at the same thing time and time again. He liked games, they moved past quickly, and even if you didn't want to do something, there was usually a way to bypass it if you wanted to.
"Ugh," Hana huffs in a sigh. "What's wrong?" (Y/N) asks softly, glancing at the pretty girl beside her. (Y/N) knew a lot of people disliked how popular Hana was, but she didn't mind it. Hana had flaws as everyone did and until she gave her a reason to not trust her, (Y/N) would stick around. "I wish Kuroo would just ask me out already. He clearly likes me," she says in a 'duh' sort of tone. (Y/N) shrugs. "Maybe you should stop leaving whenever he looks at you. He might think you dislike him," she sighs. Hana huffs. "But that's the game! I want him to chase me. If he doesn't beg for me, what kind of boyfriend is that? Even my girls do it. It's nice to be the center of attention from such a god," Hana says, pulling a finger into her mouth and licking it. (Y/N) shivered. Chase. Chase. Am I being chased? Has that boy shown up again? Where's the crosswalk? Wait no, this is the sidewalk. I won't cross for a while. Are those footsteps? I'm being chased. Shit, I'm being chased! (Y/N) quickly glanced over her shoulder but there was nobody even close to behind them. (Y/N) looked over at Hana before quickly looking away. That little finger thing she did was gross. She did it any time she was talking about a hot guy she was into, especially Kuroo Tetsurou. It was always two fingers for girls. (Y/N) tried not to let on that she knew exactly what Hana was doing, but she internally cringed. She wondered if that move had ever exactly worked at making someone like her because it honestly just made (Y/N) feel unclean.
"How did your day go? Anything memorable?" the therapist asks. (Y/N) thinks for a minute as her legs kick under the chair she was seated on. "Hm... not really. I spent lunch with a friend, she's got a crush on this dude so she spouts off about him a lot," (Y/N) states. She thinks for a little bit longer, more to determine if she wanted to mention the weird guy at the crosswalk that morning. "This guy at the crosswalk told me to kill myself, and then almost tricked me into walking into traffic, so I've been a little worried about running into him again," she says. (Y/N) did trust her therapist, of course. She had already told him about why she didn't write stuff down. He seemed calm when listening to her which was kind of nice because it meant she wasn't entirely crazy. Then again, it was his job to not let crazy think they were crazy. "Hold on, (Y/N), I need to call someone," he says quickly. "Why don't you go into the lobby with your mother?" (Y/N) sat there for a second, staring at him. "Well I'm supposed to be in here talking to you, sir," (Y/N) says. He made a face of confusion before opening his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. "Oh! Right. I understand you now." She smiles, standing up and heading out the door. The rhetorical part of the question had missed her. "That was quick," she says. Kubota (M/N) had adopted her just before (Y/N) had turned 11. She could still remember the classes she had with her, how she knew (M/N) would become her mother before the adoption even started. "He has to call someone," (Y/N) explains as she takes the seat next to her. She glanced around the lobby, seeing an older man who looked a mix of European and Indian. She offered him a tiny smile and a polite wave but ignored him after. (M/N) would have given him a nod, but they were immediately called back into the office. They settled onto the couch, the door clicking closed softly behind them. "I have a name for you," the psychologist says calmly. "Through your willingness, (Y/N), I can confidently explain what's going on and prescribe you some medication to help with it," he tells her. (Y/N) frowns a little. (M/N) had said if there was medication available, she'd have to keep going to school unless it absolutely did not work. "What is it?" (M/N) asks softly. "Paranoid schizophrenia."
