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Teru hid it well. Inconspicuous to anyone who would glance at it. No one would give it a second thought if they ever gave it a first one. Yet, even a simple finger grazing over the black leather cover is more than enough to make his voice get caught in his throat and his heart to beat in his ears. It was silly. He knew it was. It’s been months since anyone’s been over. Not to mention the list of people Teru even allowed in his apartment was small. But the thought of someone asking about the small leather book nestled between old school books, improbable as it may be, sends him into a panic.
He hated the small black book.
It made no sense. He didn’t get it.
He needed to trash it.
Four years. That’s how long he’d been living on his own. Four years of separating his colors from his whites and all the chores that came with living alone. He could deal with this. This was no harder than picking between candle scents. Simple. Easy. It’ll only take a second. He can’t help but think he should have done this years ago. When he didn’t care about anything or anyone but himself. The old Teru would have thrown it away without a second thought. Though he can’t seem to find the reason that he didn’t throw it away then. He settles on the thought it just escaped him before. Whether on purpose, he couldn’t say. Yet, this wasn’t helping him. Thinking about times better off forgotten is what got him into this internal debate.
He’s just gotta do it. Like ripping off a band-aid. One smooth movement down into the trash. Then shipped off to wherever he takes his trash out in the morning. So if he wants that book out of his life for good, then now is the time.
Yet, even with the slight time limit and the overwhelming feeling that he should just get it over with and move on. He can’t do it. Even with the book in his hands hovering over the trash can. Fighting an unwinnable battle between his hands and his thoughts. Nails gripping the leather as if it were a lifeline.
Before too long, it takes its toll on him. Claw marks slowly become imprinted on the soft black leather. Not finding it in himself to care if the marks become a permanent decoration on the cover. Body trembled slightly as tears welled up like a reservoir about to burst. Thoughts raced in his head. They were meaningless, or at least seemed so. They went by so fast he couldn’t focus on one for more than a second. He has to stop this. Letting this go on any longer wouldn’t do him any good. He got to work taking deep shallow breaths. Lifting the book up, bending it ever so slightly in his hands. Teru rests it just beneath his lower lip.
Slowly, the tears fade away, and the thoughts slow down to a crawl. He gently puts the book on his kitchen counter as he pads over to the sink. Grabbing a glass out of the cabinets, Teru feels oddly numb as the faucet fills the glass with water. Running a hand absently through his hair, while taking a swig of water, he sits down with his head in his hands.
He thought he was better than this. And he is. But Teru’s still a kid. It’s a given that, eventually, he’ll slip up. Act his age. No one would blame him. They would probably expect it at some point. To slip up and just be a scared 14-year-old who's not ready to be an adult just yet. But somehow that makes it worse. Teru isn’t your average 14-year-old. He can do this, and he’ll do it better than anyone. Yet, that doesn’t help when he can’t stop thinking about people he hasn’t seen in forever. Who won’t even bother to check up on him once over four years? But here he is. Alone and caring too much about people who couldn’t care less about him.
Exhaling deeply, Teru walks over to the black book. He shouldn’t open it. He’s well aware of this. Whether it’s the first page or the last. It’s all the same.
Old. It’s the first thought he has glancing at the page. It made sense because they all were. Teru can barely remember when they took the photo. As of late, there’s fewer and fewer of them he remembers taking. He tries to think of it as a positive. The less he remembers about the past, the less it can hurt him. Right? Why would he ever want to recall the way his parent’s faces would shift into a smile whenever they noticed him running up to them, practically jumping to inform them about his day? Or the way they would ruffle his hair, congratulating him on yet another passing grade or art project. It would do no good trying to recall any of that. All it would do is reinforce the painful fact that they aren’t here now. Ultimately nonexistent from his life, baring the meticulous script on his checks each month. The last remaining piece of evidence he even had parents to begin with. But he didn’t need them. He’d lived on his own long enough to prove he didn’t need them.
You would think he wouldn’t spend too long looking over the photos. They never changed. He was sure he could recite them in order by this point. Even still his fingers run over the bent edges and faces of days long past like he was seeing them for the first time. Running fingers through his hair, he wipes his eyes and goes to put the book back on the shelf. A chuckle escaped him when he checked the time.
It’s night. It isn’t until he sees the glow of the streetlamps outside does it really sink in. He wasted an entire day with this. And he has made no progress. The book is still there on his shelf. Yet, none of that matters. He can always throw it away later. At the moment, with red puffy eyes and all, the day just couldn’t end fast enough.
Then, while he’s laying in bed just before sleep comes to take him. He hears it. Muffled from the layers of blankets on top. He takes a good few minutes, but he figures it out, his phone is ringing. Because of the time of night or his own tiredness, he throws the blanket over himself to block out the sound long enough for whoever was trying to contact him to give up. Much to his disdain. They don’t stop, and it doesn't seem like they were planning on stopping soon. After what felt like forever and a half, Teru dug through his blankets for his phone. Not stopping to look at the caller ID, he accepts the call.
“Hello, wha-,” Teru croaked out. Face flushed as he clears his throat before he tries to begin again. But whoever on the other line beat him to the punch.
“Hanazawa,” the voice whispered.
Teru didn’t have to guess what was on the other line. He immediately sat up on his bed, one hand gripping the phone as a smile found its way to his face, “Hey, Kageyama, how’s it going a bit late for a phone call don’t cha think?”
“Ah, sorry didn’t mean to wake you or anything. I’ll just call back to—”
Teru cut in before he could even think about ending the call. “Nonsense, you know you can call at any time,” His phone had gone off for at least 10 minutes before he picked up. Shigeo had called for a reason, and Teru will not leave till he knows what that reason is.
“Hmm.”
Teru couldn’t help but let out a silent laugh. He was positive he could hear the gears grinding in Shigeo’s head. Stifling a yawn, Teru pulls his legs out from under the covers, allowing them to dangle off the side of his bed so his toes just barely graze the floor. He couldn’t fall asleep now. Accidentally falling asleep in the middle of this phone call would be the absolute worst. With one last stretch and wipe of his eyes, he sat up and paced. Just hoping the movement would starve off his exhaustion for longer.
“I’m... worried.”
“Huh, worried about what? You know that you can talk to me if something is bothering you,” Teru responded just a tad too fast for his liking, but, thankfully, Shigeo interrupted before he could start mentally kicking himself.
“I’m worried about...,” He paused, thinking about how to articulate his thoughts. Teru admired it, putting so much thought and care into each word. As if each word Shigeo uttered wasn’t already worth its weight in gold.
“I’m worried about ... you.”
Wait. What? Teru stopped mid-stride. He couldn’t believe his ears. It was only when Shigeo repeated it to him that the words finally clicked. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t help it. All his common sense flew out the window the second he heard Shigeo’s voice. He was laughing. He couldn’t stop it. Laughter bubbling out of him like a shaken can of soda; fizzy light and full of air. Shigeo’s words of concern barely registered in Teru’s head. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t believe it. Slightly shaking, one hand wrapped around his shirt sleeve, holding it in a vice grip as the other struggled to keep the phone next to his ear.
Despite all appearances, Teru was happy. Even with all the tears streaming down his face, it didn’t stop the warmth growing in his chest and the smile on his face. Shigeo is worried about him. And Teru wasn’t injured. No bleeding, no broken bones, and no stitches needed. But even so, Shigeo was worried about his well-being. Concerned about how he was feeling in a way you couldn’t record with a thermometer. He couldn’t take it. He didn’t deserve him. With all the awful stuff he had done over the years, he could never make up for it. Still, somehow, Shigeo makes him feel worth it.
Teru found his voice. Yet, even with all the words on his tongue. He only said two. “Thank you,” He couldn’t stop. The words flowing out of him are as natural as breathing. He lost track of just how much he had repeated himself. He would have repeated it ad nauseam had it not been for him suddenly remembering that Shigeo was still on the line. Slowly growing more worried about him.
“Teru. Are you okay? You’re acting odd,” Shigeo asked, each word slowly growing with apprehensiveness until it was almost palpable.
Teru chuckled, his voice low, slowly gaining back his composure, “I’m fine,” as he said that Teru could have sworn that he heard a slight huff of disbelief coming from the other line. His hands now articulating his thoughts to the empty room. He continued, “Hey. Hey. I’m not lying. Now I will admit that I haven’t been feeling my best today. But I’m feeling better than I have all day. Honest.”
“Ah well, if you say so, I’m glad.”
Teru could almost feel the waves of relief coming off his words. It made him give a quick pause. Shigeo was truly worried about him. He wasn’t sure what to do with this information. Yet, that did little to quell the heart beating in his chest or dim the subtle pink that now dusted his cheeks. It made him feel something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Quickly, he shook his head, hoping that all these thoughts would just fall out of his ears and leave him alone.
It didn’t work. Leaving him with just an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt bad. He made Shigeo worry about him. Shigeo didn’t have to worry about him. And there’s no telling how long he had been like this. The more Teru thought about it, the more anxious he felt about it. Whether it had been a few hours or a couple of days, it didn’t matter. It didn’t surprise him though, not really. If he thought about it, Shigeo would worry about him. Shigeo was too good. Trying to find the good in anyone, including Teru.
Teru had a plan, though. To make it up to him. Show him he truly was fine. A quick thanks for your concern, but I’m doing fine. No more than fine, he was doing great. Not with words, no. He could spout words at a moment's notice, twisting them as he saw fit. They were meaningless here. Teru would have to show Shigeo. In such a way, no one could doubt it, not even himself. But the only way to go was forward. Clearing his throat, he gathered all the charisma and charm he could muster and bit the bullet.
Yet, all the words on his tongue died as his eyes fell upon the bookshelf. At a book haphazardly stuffed between a handful of old textbooks. Taking a deep breath, he reaches for the old black book and sits back down on his bed. And before he can attempt to talk himself out of it. He flips to a random page and starts talking.
“Kageyama, you have a family photo album, right? Right. Ugh, that’s a dumb question of course you do,” Teru pauses uneasily. He knows what he wants to ask him, but the question falls heavy on his tongue. Unsure of whether this is crossing over some unspoken boundary between them. Then, at that moment, Shigeo speaks the words Teru’s too afraid to say.
“Yeah, I do. My mom keeps all the old photos in a box somewhere. Would you like to see them?”
Teru’s about ready to decline the offer, but before he can stop himself he agrees, “Yeah, I think I would like that,” Looking at the book in his lap before continuing, “I don’t have much, but I can show you mine.”