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English
Series:
Part 1 of Lives Are Led
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Published:
2024-04-08
Updated:
2024-05-14
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60,063
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28/32
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High School Sweethearts

Chapter 28: Lemon Drop

Summary:

Sometimes, things are complicated, and when you're only 17 (or even 18), it can be hard to know what to do.

Another anxiety chapter!!! Not explicitly stated that there's a panic attack, but it is implied in the description near the end. Emotionally repressed reader (open up babes, you can do it!)

Suga being a sweetie.

Teenagers are bad at feelings. (:

Song used is Lemon Drop by Raynes because that's my favorite song and I felt like using it and this is a fan fiction so I can do whatever I want!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

You sit outside of the gym today, having finally convinced yourself not to go in.

Your new therapist, the one your dad had recommended to you when you were staying with him one weekend, had walked you through not pushing yourself into situations that are going to overstimulate you or send you into a spiral.

She also said that environments you usually like, or that aren't even unpleasant, can sometimes be too much when you're already feeling overwhelmed.

Your instinct had been to shove your feelings aside, turn your headphones up to maximum volume, and retreat as deeply into your corner on the bench as you could.

Instead, you got out of your comfort zone by not forcing yourself out of your comfort zone.

You were worried for a second about explaining your absence, worried Nishinoya and Tanaka would notice you never came in, until you saw the bus parked near the gymnasium. That's right, they have a practice match against that big metal wall school today.

Perfect, they'll be way too busy to be looking for you, especially since during practice matches you tend to make yourself as small and invisible as you can in the corner anyway.

You don’t think you can go in today, but… you also don’t think you can go home yet either.

You drop your bag on the dusty ground between the wall of the gym and the concrete sidewalk, plopping down next to it and ignoring the way the dirt would definitely smudge your uniform, and yank your headphones onto your ears from where they rested on your shoulders.

As soon as the song starts playing, you start tapping your hands and feet in rhythm.

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

Repeat.

Repeat. Ba-da-da-da. (Beat.) Da da da, ba da da da bum, da.

Deep breaths.

If you had to name something that could be worse than not knowing the things you want to know, you would venture that maybe knowing things you didn't want to know is the only contender. You aren't sure it would win, not knowing things is pretty much the worst thing you can think of, but it comes close.

Overhearing things you're not supposed to, hushed conversations between adults as you passed by in the hallway, and then the door opening and seeing the look on your dad's face when he realized you'd heard everything.

 

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

Repeat.
Repeat.

Repeat.

It isn't getting better, but it isn't getting worse, so that's a step in the right direction.

Truly the worst part about the anxious spells, is that sometimes they happen when you can't help but have someone else see you. Sometimes it's a stranger in the bathroom who you'll never see again. Usually that was okay, a stranger's opinion held little to no weight for you.

Sometimes it was one of your parents, who would then try to help in their own way. Your mom, usually by getting upset and frustrated and stressing herself out to equal proportions. Very unhelpful.

Your dad, by gently talking you through solutions and reminding you to breathe. Mostly helpful, if not a bit overwhelming to try and process in the moment.

You aren't a fan of other people witnessing your weakness. You're better than that, you're stronger than that. Surely whatever was really the matter at your core wasn't world ending, so why was some part of your brain convinced it was?

Pathetic.

If only you could cut that part out.

Not in a dramatic way, you weren't seeking pain. It was a morbid thought, sure but you weren't about to attempt it, so you let it stay and stew until the lunch you ate earlier sours in your stomach. Then you kick it to the curb.

 

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

 

Nishinoya jogs over to the box painted on the floor of the gym, switching out Tsukishima.

Suga glances at him as he reaches the rest of them. “Nice job out there Noya, you really rule the floor with those receives of yours.”

“Thanks, spending so long working on blocked ball retrieval has been a huge advantage with Date Tech.” Noya grins.

“Random question, where's Katsu- er, Shima?” Suga asks, trying and failing not to look at your empty spot for the hundredth time since practice started.

Nishinoya cocks his head. “Hm? Whaddaya mean? She has music club today, so she isn't going to be here until later.”

“No I know she has music club, but that ended a little while ago, I thought anyway. I just figured she would have been here by now.” Suga rubs the back of his neck, checking your spot over his shoulder again, as if maybe in the 2 seconds he'd been facing Noya you would have appeared where you were supposed to be.

Not that she's necessarily supposed to be, well, she isn't required to be at practice, it's just that-

“Huh, yeah come to think of it she is usually here by now. Maybe her club meeting ran late.”

Suga nods. That was probably it. He was probably just worried over nothing. This wasn't the first time you hadn't shown up to practice, and last time-

No yeah he's worried. Had he texted “see you at practice” today? Did you respond?

Suga couldn't remember.

 

You didn't end up going into practice at all that day. Instead you finally worked up the nerve to get up, and take the bus home.

You thought for a second before leaving, about how you wanted to observe more of how the team acted around their managers, how Suga acted around the managers, but you decide to swallow the urge and ignore it.

You’ve been burned a little too recently by knowing things you don’t want to know. Maybe ignorance is bliss after all.

 

A couple of hours later, while you're sketching on your iPad, having vaguely pacified your friends with a vague explanation as to why you didn’t ride home with them.

There's a knock at your bedroom door.

“Katsuki?” Your mom asks from the other side.

You barely hear her over your headphones, which you tap to pause your music on and pull off of one ear.

“Yeah what's up?”

“There's someone here to see you.”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion. “Who?” It couldn't be Tanaka since your mom knew him, and Saeko would have texted you first if she was going to show up at your house. It could be Kari, but you're pretty sure she was going out with Noya tonight and expected they'd be gone for a few hours longer.

“It- I'm sorry what's your name again?”

“Koushi.”

You drop your stylus.

“Come in,” you say, eyebrows drawn together as you try to guess what on earth-

The door clicks open, and Suga slips into the room, waving at your mom and adjusting his bag over her shoulder.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing here?”

“You uh, you never showed up at practice and I was worried about you,” he admits, watching until your mom has left the hallway and then shutting your door.

You blow your bangs out of your face. “I texted you didn't I? That I ended up needing to go? Wait, or did I just tell Noya and Ryu-”

“No, you did text me. It was just sudden, and I wanted to check on you.” Suga crosses the room and sits down at the foot of your bed across from you.

“So why didn't you just call?” You ask.

“Okay, fine, I also wanted to see you, is that insane?”

He wanted to see you. That was sweet.

What if Kiyoko had been gone? Would he do the same thing?

There goes you’re stupid fucking head again, ruining things.

You intend to say something grateful. You want to express that you’re just feeling a little insecure, and confused on where you stand. You want to tell him that you have more to worry about than you can handle, and you couldn’t wait through practice for fear of breaking down on the side of the court every time you heard a volleyball smack the floor.

Instead, you say, “I mean yeah, kinda.”

Suga scoffs, frustrated that he can’t figure out what’s going on with you. “If you want me to leave, you can tell me you know. I'll let you get back to drawing by yourself,” he says, standing.

Fuck.

“No, it, I-” you scramble, trying to figure out how to stop him from going, and sigh in relief when he turns around. “I um, I don't want you to go. I'm just an asshole, and I get even more asshole-y when I'm anxious.” You do your best to explain yourself. You know you’re being overly defensive, and you know that you don’t have any real reason to be. Not when you haven’t even talked to him about anything going through your head.

You know you get bite-y and mean with the people around you when you’re stressed, not that you aren’t a little bite-y and mean anyway, if Tanaka and Nishinoya have anything to say about it.

Basically, you have two settings: Bitchy and Bitchier.

And you have way too many things rattling around in your brain right now to be anything but Bitchy-est.

Suga sits back down, dropping his bag on the floor, and then turning to face you. “Are you okay?”

You nod, despite the way your stomach rolls and your eyes start to burn just from being asked that simple question. “Yeah.”

Suga is clearly unconvinced. “Let me try again. What's wrong?”

You set your ipad down next to you, and plant your hands next to your hips. You decide now is not the time to start pulling your insecurities out of your pocket and laying them in front of him. You were anxious today far before you went to the gym, long before you were even thinking about Suga and Kiyoko.

So really… “Nothing I can trace honestly, which is the issue. Usually I can work myself through a spell if I’m able to identify the cause, but sometimes, I can’t, and then I just have to ride it out or ignore it.”

Suga furrows his brows. “Spell?”

You blink. “Oh, um… anxiety. Not that it's a huge deal, I mean everyone and their cat has anxiety, so like it can’t possibly be that bad and my new therapist says I have OCD, which I think explains a lot, but OCD is basically a joke so I can handle it-”

Suga puts a hand on your knee, and you snap your mouth shut. “Don’t… don’t do that. If I think it’s not a huge deal, I’ll tell you. But you don’t get to decide for me.”

You swallow. “Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.”

You guffaw and throw up your hands. “Oh come on, what do you want me to do?”

“Um… Tell me what happened. Tell me… tell me about yesterday. Let’s start early. Maybe we can identify what the cause was if we think about it together.” He scoots back so he’s sitting farther up on the blankets, back against the wall. He pats the spot next to him, and you actually smile, rotating to face the same way and moving so your shoulders are pressed up against each other.

“Okay, sure. Yesterday I was actually at my dad’s until like six. I stayed there over the weekend. It was really relaxing because my brothers usually don’t stay for all that long at a time, school night and all, but I take the bus anyway so I can stay for longer because I don’t need my mom to get me to and from places-”

“Wait, your dad’s?” He interrupts you. “Are your parents divorced? I didn’t know that.”

Oh. Right. He didn’t know that.

They're not divorced...

Shut up.

“Oh, um, no, just separated for a while. Not sure how long.” Maybe forever.

No, you don’t want to think like that. You really don’t.

“How…” Suga pauses. “How long have they been separated?”

“For like… a few months now? I dunno, it was sometime before the showcase.”

Suga blinks. In all that time, he's never heard you mention it. This wasn't old news, this was something you're going through right now and he didn't know anything. He almost asks why you didn’t say anything, but stops himself. He isn’t someone you owe an explanation to. He wishes you would tell him things like that, he wants to know, and wants to be there for you, but those are his feelings.

God, what the fuck is he supposed to do in this situation?

“Okay… So, what did you do there?”

“It was quiet, I read, I drew, I wished I’d brought my guitar, I came home, I-” You cut yourself off. “Oh, I guess… I guess I overheard something, but I felt better today when I woke up so I didn’t think it would still be affecting me, but…” Your heart begins to race. Oh God not now. You start patting your thighs and tapping your foot.

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

Suga moves his hand to your farther knee, tugging gently so you’re leaning on him a little more than before. “What did you hear?”

You shake your head, then rest your cheek on his shoulder. “I can’t tell you.”

I want to. But I don’t trust myself.

Your heart is rattling your ribcage like a jail cell, banging against your chest and demanding to be let out. It takes up so much space your lungs are shrinking to make room for it. Shit.

“Can’t, or won’t? Either way is fine, but if it’s the second I hope you’ll reconsider.”

“Both?” You try. “I could, but it’s… not really mine to share.”

You’re trying really hard not to start shaking, focusing on the gentle rise and fall of Suga’s torso underneath your head, the warmth from his hand and from his shoulder against yours.

“Does it affect you?” He asks.

You nod, adjusting your head so it’s fully resting on his shoulder.

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

“Then you can talk about it if you want to. Only if you want to.”

“Well that’s the problem,” you sigh.

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

Suga rubs his thumb back and forth on your knee. “That it affects you?”

“That it affects more than just me. A lot more.” And you have nationals soon. This is all too much to ask you to deal with on top of that. I don't want it to affect you.

Suga nods. “Okay.”

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

“What are you tapping?”

Your hands suddenly still against your legs. “Oh, uh, it’s the drum line for my favorite song.”

Your heart beats louder and your face gets hot.

Not again. Not now. Not in front of him.

“Hey, can you look at me?” Suga asks, voice dropping tone and volume.

You shake your head.

“No you can’t look at me?”

You shake your head.

“Can you… tell me what song you were tapping?”

“...Lemon drop.” Your voice is strained, almost a whisper. You sound like you’re about to cry. You are, that’s why you won’t look at him.

“Raynes?”

You nod.

Silence.

“You can keep tapping, I wasn’t saying you should stop.”

You hesitate. Then, slowly, one two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

A couple of tears escape. Your heart tries to latch onto them and climb out of your throat, but you swallow it back down.

Soon I’ll be at the top, and prob’ly choke on a lemon drop.”

It takes your brain an extra half second to process that it’s Suga’s voice you’re hearing.

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

“It’s really embarrassing, but this look is everything.”

Oh. He knows the song.

“I’m willing to brave disgrace, and leave just a pretty blue face.”

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

Suga’s voice stays quiet, breathy, more like he’s whispering in tune than actually singing.

“Well maybe it seems insane,” he squeezes your knee, “But, at least you’re entertained.”

You exhale, smiling a little. As close to a laugh as you’re going to get. Unfortunately allowing anything of that sort leads your voice to betray you, a small hiccup leaping from your lips to join the tears dripping from your chin.

“They fall for you when they see that you’ve got away,”

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

“It’s all for you, but they beg for it anyway.”

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

You start nodding your head to the beat too.

“They love the lines that you hardly remember at all. It’s better if you live fast and leave too soon.”

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp.

“I’m telling ‘em that I won’t stop until it gets even sweeter.”

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

You join in, hoarse, and barely, choking on your own words.

“Su-cking, on… a … drop I’ll… shock ‘till…”

Suga keeps going, leaning his head on top of yours. “‘Till it melts away. How long before I finally forget the place,”

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp tap clap tap stomp clap.

“That left, su- such….asourtaste,” you struggle to suck in a long deep breath.

You can almost breathe again.

One two three stomp, one two three, stomp.

You can’t see it, but Suga smiles.

“But the sugar rush is alright.”

Notes:

Sorry for the 2 weeks without an update. /: Gonna try to get back into it. Lot's of work stuff and my ADHD saying "noooo editing bad, how dare you even THINK about editing!!!"

Anyways, the goal was to have the pacing of this chapter to feel a little inconsistent, and for the thoughts and descriptions to be a bit disjointed in a way that still makes sense, because it is reader POV and the reader is anxious and emotionally high strung at the moment, and I wanted that to be reflected in their mindset and how things are being perceived. If it worked pls lmk if it didn't work also pls lmk I would love to improve on this type of writing!!

Thanks for bearing with me. Lots of love!!!

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