Chapter Text
Time heals all wounds.
That was what Nagisa had heard all his life.
Sure, it was true in the case of a paper cut, a bruise, even the broken bones and concussion he'd sustained.
But was it true for wounds unseen by the human eye? The emotional scars left by years of manipulation and abuse? The imprinted memory of his mother bleeding out, the light draining from her eyes, the ghostly whispers of her final words?
Maybe.
Maybe it was true.
Maybe he just needed more time.
It had only been six months, after all.
Six months that had been filled to the brim with hospital stays, surgeries, doctor's visits, physiotherapy, conversations with social workers, half-hearted attempts to reconnect, online school, pain medication, avoided conversations, too much. Simply too much. There was no space left to process, to feel, to think.
Until he was standing at the door to his old apartment, unable to lift his arm not due to a shattered collarbone, but a pair of invisible hands squeezing his wrists, digging their nails into freshly healed skin, tearing him open, burrowing into his bones-
"Nagisa?"
With Karma's voice, the grip receded. Nagisa's hands flinched up to waist-height, shaking as he rotated them, inspecting the damage that wasn't there.
It wasn't there.
She wasn't there.
He lowered his arms to his sides, a deep breath scraping its way into his already aching lungs. Karma mimicked the breath, much more smoothly.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
He certainly did not want to do it. He wanted nothing less than to enter his mother's apartment. But he had to. There was no choice.
"It's only paid for until the end of the month." Nagisa's voice was somehow stable, but he couldn't raise it past a whisper. Stay quiet, stay hidden, stay safe. Only speak when spoken to. Stay out of her way, stay out of her wrath. Be invisible unless given permission to exist. "Everything has to be cleared out by tomorrow or it gets donated. There are things I need."
"Your dad seriously won't just do it for you?"
Nagisa couldn't hold back the scoff. When had his manners fallen by the wayside? "No. He can't handle seeing the place, or whatever."
"Yet he expects you too." Nagisa didn't need to look up to see Karma's expression. The rage underlining his incredulity was evidence enough of the scowl. "Well, let's make it quick, then."
Karma reached for the door handle as though it were nothing. As though he didn't need to prepare. As though it was any other door to any other place.
Nagisa supposed it was. To Karma, the space he stepped into was just an apartment. Just a collection of walls and floors and windows, decorated in the taste of someone he didn't know. It was just the place Nagisa had lived for the last sixteen years. A place he'd never visited until that day. A place he could enter with the confidence that he would leave alive, intact, okay.
Nagisa willed it to be so simple. He wanted nothing more than to step over the threshold as though he was stepping into a classroom.
But that had never been the case.
Stepping through the door meant stepping into an active war zone. A raging battle wasn't a guarantee, but it was a possibility. He had to place his feet carefully, avoiding landmines and trigger points that would would draw all available artillery in his direction. He had to monitor the enemy, doing his best to stay hidden and not draw attention, lest he provoke her.
But she wasn't there.
There was no one-sided battle to be lost.
Not anymore.
That knowledge didn't make his forward momentum any easier.
His legs ached, shaking with exertion as they trudged through partially solidified concrete. His arms crept up, settling across his waist, fingers grasping at the seams of his hoodie in a sorry attempt to control their tremble. His head bowed forward as he crossed the threshold, placed at a perfect forty-five degree angle as he withdrew his feet from his shoes. A shaking breath rattled his chest and did nothing to soothe his frantic heart. It strained against its confines, beating mercilessly against his sternum, cracking cartilage, forcing it forward, setting it free, ribs caving in, skin splitting open-
"Nagisa?"
His sternum settled back into place, cracks in the cartilage smoothing over, though his heart refused to relent.
He hated how quickly Karma's voice could snap him back to reality.
No. That wasn't true. He was grateful for that.
He hated the fact that it was necessary. That Nagisa could so quickly lose his grip and allow himself to plummet. He hated that he couldn't simply control himself. That he'd had to ask Karma to be here in the first place because he couldn't just do it himself without blending reality with whatever fucked up spiral was constantly swirling at the edges of his mind, looking for any gap in his weakened defenses.
"If you're not up for this I can-"
"I have to." Nagisa shook his bowed head with finality. There was no choice.
"I can pay the rent for another month." Karma's offer shattered Nagisa's perfect posture. His head snapped up to find sincerity in Karma's stern, golden eyes. His jaw went slack, a few crackling puffs of air escaping his throat in place of the words we has unable to conjure. His silence prompted Karma to continue, "Longer, if you need. You shouldn't have to rush yourself. It hasn't been that long…"
A thick, dry swallow and another shake of his head allowed Nagisa to regain control of his tongue, but barely. "I can't ask you to do that."
Karma simply shrugged. "You didn't ask. I have the money. More than enough. My allowance is stupid and I haven't touched the leftovers from the octopus so-"
"No."
Nagisa had no doubt Karma was able to pay. He'd been to the unnecessarily massive house, heard about the trips his parents were always on, seen the packages of designer clothes arrive and be cast aside.
Money may have been no object to Karma, but that didn't matter. It wasn't the offer of payment that was so egregious.
Nagisa straightened his shoulders against muscle memory, dropping his hands to his sides.
"No, I'm fine. I have to do this."
If he said it out loud, it would become true, right?
Karma just stared for a moment, curiosity almost concealing the pity clouding his eyes. Almost.
The expression only deepened Nagisa's need to just do it.
"Okay," Karma sighed, his own arms crossing over his chest as he conceded. "Where do you want to start?"
For the first time since entering the apartment, Nagisa scanned his surroundings. His grandparents had been through already, claiming furniture and electronics. Most likely to sell, if Nagisa had to venture a guess.
The living room couch and coffee table were gone, as well as the dining room table and chairs. The television had disappeared from its stand, and even the rug had been removed.
Nagisa stepped forward, avoiding the squeaky floorboards of the entrance and veering left.
Even the kitchen had been picked through. The nice tea set Hiromi reserved for company was gone from its home above the fridge. The rice cooker was no longer tucked into the corner of the counter. The french press and coffee grinder weren't in their designated cabinet.
At least his grandparents had the decency to clear out the fridge and pantry. Nagisa wouldn't have put it past them to leave him with a kitchen full of rotting food to clean up.
"Didn't peg you for a chef," Karma mused after watching Nagisa wander about the space for a while.
Nagisa turned to look at Karma, propped in the doorway with his arms crossed. "Hm?"
"Well, you said there were things you needed," Karma elaborated in response to Nagisa's furrowed brow. "I didn't think those things would be kitchen appliances."
"Couldn't take them if I wanted to," Nagisa sighed. He also couldn't blame Karma for his well concealed impatience. Watching Nagisa open cupboards was not what he'd signed up for. "Sorry, I…"
The words wouldn't form. The thoughts barely would. They were disjointed, floating in fragments, stitched together in an order that didn't make sense, tearing at the seams, rejoining, wrong again.
Why was he even in the kitchen?
"You don't have to apologize." Karma's chin dropped to his chest in a rare display of avoidance. That was usually Nagisa's job. It was odd to have the roles reversed. "I uh… I can't imagine this is easy."
Silence was all that could follow.
They were both out of their element, it was obvious.
But it didn't need to be acknowledged.
"You don't-" Nagisa broke the silence but choked on his words. He cleared his throat before his second attempt. "You don't have to be… like that."
"Like what?" Karma's head raised, tilting in curious confusion. Nagisa's fingers just found the hem of his hoodie, gaze fleeing as understanding flooded Karma's eyes. "Oh. I may not be good at… whatever this is. But I'm not a monster."
"I know that!" Damn it. He'd offended Karma. Why did he always have to do that? Why did he always have to say the wrong thing? Why couldn't he just get one thing right? Now Karma was going to leave. He was going to leave Nagisa alone to deal with everything. He wouldn't be able to do it. Wouldn't be able to handle it. He needed-
"Hey." The hand on Nagisa's shoulder sent his stumbling, bracing himself against the counter, ready for whatever impact was coming. "I'm not mad."
What?
… what?
"What?" The question was barely more than a breath among heaving breaths.
"I'm not mad," Karma reiterated, and Nagisa could have fooled himself into believing he heard the words pass through a smirk. "Geez, Nagisa, you should know me better than that by now."
His neck creaked as Nagisa realigned it, peering up at Karma through the safety of his bangs.
He was smirking. Not his usual, impish grin that signalled mischief was afoot. Not the self-assured, cocky sneer he reserved for fights and threats. It was sad. Unsure. Like Karma didn't know how to handle Nagisa. Like he was afraid to break him.
Nagisa hated it.
He hated the pity, the tiptoeing, the excessive gentleness.
He wasn't broken.
He wasn't weak.
He wasn't some delicate flower that would wilt without proper care or be crushed under too firm a hand.
"Look," Karma continued smile melting into something uneasy. The expression was wrong. So wrong. It didn't belong to Karma's face. "I know I probably wasn't your first choice for this but-"
"You were," Nagisa interrupted, despite how rude it was. Everything was weird and wrong, so he would be too. "You were my first choice. I wanted Sugino and Kayano too, but Sugino's team is out of town for a game and Kayano isn't even in the country. But I wanted you."
Karma's brows drew down and Nagisa could almost feel the confused hitch of his breath. He blinked a few times before getting his voice back. "Why?"
"Because I thought you would treat me normally." A familiar, threatening sting pressed against the backs of Nagisa's eyes. He closed his lids against it, forcing the tears to remain at bay. He swallowed the sudden pressure in his throat, coercing it down far enough to keep talking, though the words were strained. "I need things to be normal. I can't deal with everyone treating me weird anymore. I just… Please. Please just be normal."
With his final plea, he opened his eyes, finding Karma's too-soft gaze. A few seconds passed before Karma nodded, eyes sharpening, expression morphing into its usual, casual state. "Okay."
The threat of tears dissolved. Pressure Nagisa hadn't noticed melted away from his lungs. Even his heart rate seemed to slow, if just a touch.
"Okay," he agreed. "Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah." Karma brushed him off with a wave of his hand. "Now is there actually anything in this kitchen that you want, or are we wasting time?"
Tension seeped out of Nagisa's muscles, shoulders falling away from where they'd crept up towards his ears. The ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but was unsuccessful in producing anything more than a twitch.
"My uh-" He took a stabilizing breath, using Karma's expectant stare as motivation. "My room is this way."
It wasn't until a few seconds had passed that Nagisa realized he actually needed to lead the way. He peeled himself away from the counter, ignoring the grasping tendrils attempting to force him to stay stuck, to stay safe.
He was fine.
He wasn't in danger.
He just needed to pack up his things and he would never have to see the inside of the apartment again.
Never…
Never again.
The realization gripped onto his heart like a frozen hand. The sudden stinging chill drew in a gasp that refused to leave his lungs. Claws dug in, piercing his insides with a burning ache that pulled his shoulders forward. His hand flew to his chest, as though he could fight off the sensation, pry it away.
"This looks more like a hallway than a bedroom."
Nagisa hadn't noticed his feet had stopped. But they had. And in the hallway, just as Karma had pointed out.
The breath flowed out of his lungs, loosening the grip on his heart but not removing the hand in its entirety. That was okay. He could live with it.
"Sorry," Nagisa muttered and forced his feet forward, toward the stack of cardboard at the end of the hall.
How nice of his grandparents to leave their leftover boxes for him.
"Listen." Karma had stopped a few paces back and drew Nagisa's attention with his call. "I know you said to act normal, and I will, just- If you want to like… talk about anything… I can listen."
"I just had a weird thought." The words crawled up Nagisa's throat and out of his mouth before he knew they were coming. It felt like vomiting; Unwelcome and unpleasant but pressure-relieving all the same. When had he become so weighed down…? "Or a realization maybe? After today, I'm not coming back here. Ever. And… And I won't see her. Ever again."
"That's a good thing." Karma didn't bother hiding his disdain, and for a moment, Nagisa regretted asking him to act normally. But the moment passed as reminders of reality seeped in to reshape his feelings. "It sucks that she died, but now she can't abuse you anymore."
"She's not-!" The automatic defense disintegrated on his tongue.
She was abusive.
She had been abusive for all of Nagisa's life.
And now she was dead.
He knew that.
Logically, he knew his mother was dead.
He'd seen her die, held her hand as she did.
But the realization that he'd just tried to talk about her in the present tense shook him.
The fact that he'd stopped himself because of it, that he'd noticed his mistake and faltered… It felt final.
It felt real.
More real than her hand growing cold in his as he waited, trapped, for help to arrive. More real than her lack of responses as he begged her to talk to him. More real than the smell of human waste mingling with the already nauseating mixture of blood and gasoline.
Nagisa wanted to shout, to beg, to scream, but his lungs simply wouldn't allow it. His breathing was already shallow, the excruciating pain that had spread through most of his body somehow worsened with each attempted breath. He wished he could turn his head, just to check if the car was on fire. It had to be. The burn smouldering along his left side couldn't be anything but flames.
But he smelled no smoke. Just the familiar tang of iron hanging heavy in the air.
"Mom," he tried again, concentrating his limited energy and sending it all to his right hand. His fingers tightened around hers, but barely. Hers twitched in response.
She'd stopped responding with any kind of consistency. Nagisa had done his best to keep her talking, but with his hold on his own consciousness slipping, he could only do so much.
He needed to do more. He needed to keep her awake, to keep them both alive until help came.
But what could he do?
He couldn't move, seatbelt and crumpled metal pinning him in place. Even without the physical restraints, he wasn't convinced his body would cooperate. He couldn't tell if his feet were carrying out his desperate pleas to wiggle. He couldn't turn his head. His left arm might not even be attached anymore, he couldn't tell. The shift of his right hand into his mother's had only been possible due to the close proximity, but even forcing his fingers to crawl the mere ten centimeters had exhausted him beyond belief.
He didn't even know if the car had settled right-side up after the eternity of rolling.
He had to find out.
The window was shattered, he could tell by the breeze cooling the back of his neck. He could escape through it. He could crawl out and get his mom out and go find help. He just had to-
A strangled scream rumbled in his throat, only leaving a pitiful squeak to escape his mouth. Trying to turn his head to assess his surroundings only sent fresh hell rolling through his body. Just as it had the first few times he'd attempted.
But he had to try. He had to!
"Baby?" His mom's voice only added to the relentless pressure in his head. He almost wished someone would stab him, right through the skull. That was a kind of surgery, right? Drilling a hole to relieve pressure? God, he need that. He needed it so badly. Maybe with the headache gone he would be able to think clearly and figure out a way to- "Nagisa?"
"I'm here, mom." The words brought with them an irritating tickle and Nagisa couldn't resist the cough. His vision whited out, ears ringing as his brain swelled and his ribs cracked and his lungs exploded. Knives sunk into his torso from every direction, twisting with each scraping breath. His nervous system was on fire, sparking and crackling, it had to short out at some point, right?
The coughing fit passed, not quickly enough, leaving him exhausted and panting as his vision returned. The taste of metal clung to his tongue, liquid trickling past his lips and down his chin. The pain eased off only enough for his eyes to refocus.
He almost wished they hadn't.
The image was already stamped into his brain, he knew. If he survived this, he would see his mother's contorted body for the rest of his life. But that didn't mean he wanted to keep staring at her.
There was blood everywhere, colouring her pale skin, matting down her hair, soaking through her clothes, dripping down the airbag, splattered on the shattered window behind her. Her head didn't look quite right, like part of it was caving in. The white of her right eye was entirely red, and her pupils were unevenly dilated. Her left arm seemed okay, but the right one hung limply between her thighs, sagging heavily and awkwardly at the shoulder. There was bone protruding from her left leg, and the steady spurts of blood from the wound had slowed considerably.
It wasn't good.
It was so, so bad.
If Nagisa didn't do something, his mom was going to bleed out.
He had to do something, anything!
But what could he do?
He didn't have his phone with him, it was sitting useless on his desk at home. Even if it was in his pocket, he'd probably not be able to reach it. And he didn't want to let his mom's hand go to try. Even considering the hypothetical situation sent guilt tugging at his rearranged insides, deepening the incessant ache in his chest.
"It's okay, Nagisa." His mom's voice startled him, but his body kept from flinching. Maybe his nervous system was finally giving up. "It's okay."
"No, it's not," Nagisa argued, his croaking voice not much stronger than her slurred whisper.
She sighed, a minuscule smile flickering across her bloody lips. "It will be."
"Nagisa?" A new voice, not his mom's, echoed through the dark. A fireman? EMS? No, they wouldn't know his name. "Nagisa, breathe, please."
The voice was familiar, comfortable. It was calm, collected. It should have made Nagisa feel safe, uplifted.
He also should have followed its directions.
He gave it his best go, dragging a burning breath into his collapsing chest. Damn, why did breathing hurt so badly?
"There you go, keep that up. Keep breathing."
He didn't really want to. It hurt. It hurt like his chest being crushed by the crumpled remains of his mother's car. It hurt like being pulled out of the car by the firefighters who managed to save his life. It hurt like the doctors palpating his ribs, trying to locate the section that had come free from his sternum. It hurt like his pain medication wearing off for the first time after surgery. It hurt like coughing to clear his airways.
It hurt, damn it.
But he did it anyway.
And with each breath, it hurt a little less. The fire in his lungs fizzled out, the pounding in his skull slowed, the stabbing pain in his ribs settled to an ache.
It still hurt, but it was manageable.
He even opened his eyes.
"Welcome back." Isogai's voice finally clicked, but only once Nagisa saw his sideways smile.
Wait, no. Isogai's smile wasn't sideways. Nagisa was sideways. Curled up on the floor in the hallway of his mother's apartment.
"Iso..?" His former classmate's name dissolved into a squeak in his dry throat.
"Are you okay?" Isogai offered a hand. One Nagisa would not take. He instead pressed his palms into the floor and lifted his upper body a few centimeters before his trembling elbows gave out on him completely.
But he didn't hit the ground. Gentle hands caught him at the shoulders and another pair wrapped around his bicep. Together, the hands pulled him up to sit, propping him against the wall.
It took Nagisa a few moments to realize the hands didn't belong to Isogai, who was still in front of him, unmoved. Nagisa's head swivelled first to the left, finding Karma and his uncharacteristically concerned face. That made sense. Karma had been there the whole time. When he turned to his right, he was only slightly surprised to see Maehara. He and Isogai usually came as a set, so his presence matched Isogai's. But still.
"Why are you here?" It took far too long for the question to form, and even longer for Nagisa to get it out.
"I called them." Nagisa didn't turn to see Karma's reply. He didn't need to. Nor did he want to. He was so tired… "You went totally unresponsive for a minute then started panicking. I didn't know what to do."
"Are you okay, Nagisa?" Isogai jumped in with his repeated question before Nagisa could form a response to Karma. Not that it was really necessary to respond. It wasn't like Karma had asked a question.
But Isogai had. He needed to answer Isogai's question.
"No." Lying would take too much effort. Especially considering how unbelievable the lie would have been. "Why them?"
The question was directed at Karma, and only after it had been asked did Nagisa realize how rude it was. He wasn't sure how he felt about them being there, but that didn't mean he needed to be an ass about it.
"They were close." Karma's shrug was audible. "And Isogai is good with feelings."
Nagisa could only grunt in reply. He didn't mind them being there, he didn't think. They'd seen him in worse positions. He might have been embarrassed, had he enough energy to care.
"Were you having a flashback?" Maehara's question was careful, delicate, and stomped upon by Isogai's frantic shushing. "What?!"
"It's fine," Nagisa managed and dragged his knees up to his chest. His limbs were heavy, but so was his head. It needed somewhere to rest. He let it fell forward once he was sure his feet wouldn't slide out from under him, propping his forehead on his knees. "It was a flashback, yeah."
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Isogai assured.
"But if you do want to, you can," Maehara added, inhumanly quickly.
"Whatever you need is fine." Nagisa could feel the daggers in Karma's gaze, though couldn't decode why they were being cast, or who they were aimed at.
Nagisa just breathed for a moment, relishing the deep inhales and steady exhales he'd missed for so long. His ribs still twinged at the apex of the breath, but it was nothing compared to the agony that had been his first few conscious days after the wreck.
The deep breaths brought him back around, clearing the haze of his mind. He could feel three sets of eyes on him, all unsure of what to do next. He supposed that was fair. He was asking a lot of his friends; Seeing him through his own personal hell couldn't be easy on them. Especially not when he was panicking on the floor. He couldn't imagine that being a very attractive sight.
"Hey." The poke to his ribs came from Karma. "You falling asleep on us?"
"No," Nagisa dragging his head up before Isogai could scold Karma for being so casual. "Sorry. Tired."
"You don't have to apologize." Isogai's smile was broken. It probably looked okay to most people, but he should have known better than to fake it for Nagisa. His teeth were misaligned, like he was biting his tongue or his cheek to hold his composure. The corners of his eyes were crinkled, but by force. His eyes themselves were brimming worry, pity, overflowing with sadness.
Nagisa hated it.
If Isogai was going to pity him, Nagisa would at least make it worth his while.
"I was holding her hand when she died."
It was a simple sentence. Short and mostly made up of single syllable words. But It had an impact. Maehara cringed, probably regretting his encouragement for Nagisa to talk. Isogai flinched, his smile wiped away, overtaken by horror.
"You were awake?" Karma was the only one who kept his cool, it seemed. "I figured you were unconscious, considering your injuries."
"I think I was in and out a few times." Nagisa nodded, allowing his eyes to glaze over and his vision to soften. It wasn't healthy, he knew. This therapist had told him that taking a step away when he talked about it was only hurting him. But he couldn't help it. He was still there, still aware, just further from the words coming out of his mouth. "I remember everything. I remember exactly how she looked. I remember her hand getting cold. I remember her eyes going… I don't know how to describe it. But I knew when she was dead. Her eyes were wrong, that was how I knew. But we were like that forever. Just stuck. Bleeding. In pain. I don't even think I was scared. All I could think about was saving her. But I couldn't do anything. I should have done something."
Nagisa heard his breath hitch in the silence. Nobody interrupted him. he didn't decide to continue, but the words just kept coming.
"I didn't do anything to help her. All I did was sit there and hold her hand. She died because I didn't do anything. I should have done something. I should have-!"
"Stop that." Karma's hand on his chin forced Nagisa back to the forefront of his consciousness. The fingers along his jaw were warm, gentle, and trembling. They forced Nagisa's head to turn, his wide, watery eyes meeting Karma's. There was anger in them, golden irises burning with flecks of orange and red. Nagisa's posture collapsed, sending him curling away from Karma, but the hold on his chin kept him stationary, if a little slouched. "Stop blaming yourself. You couldn't have done anything. The doctors thought you were going to be paralyzed when you woke up. It's a goddamn miracle you're recovering so well. I saw the pictures of the car. It was crushed. You were crushed inside of it. You barely survived, Nagisa. You couldn't have done anything to help her. It's shitty, it sucks, but you can't blame yourself for that. She didn't die because you couldn't do anything, she died because of her bad decisions. She fell asleep at the wheel and almost killed you. If you're blaming anyone, blame her."
"Karma!" Isogai's voice was nearly as lethal as Karma's. He lunged forward, wrestling Karma's hand away from Nagisa's jaw without much of a fight. "Don't say things like that!"
"You weren't here earlier," Karma practically spat as he wrenched his wrist from Isogai's flimsy grip. "Nagisa asked me to treat him normally. I called you over so I could do that and let you deal with the emotional side of things."
"That doesn't mean you have to blame his mom! It was an accident, nobody needs to be blamed."
"But you especially don't need to be blamed, Nagisa." Maehara piped up before Karma could counter Isogai. "Karma is right that there was nothing you could do. You were severely injured, you couldn't have done anything."
It made logical sense. Nagisa could not have done anything to help his mother after the crash. And yes, it was her fault that they ended up at the bottom of the ravine.
But he wasn't blameless.
Not by a long shot.
"Whatever." Nagisa shook his head and shifted his weight, using the wall as leverage to get to his feet. He couldn't get into it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But definitely not right then. "We've lost enough time to my meltdown. I need to start packing. Isogai, Maehara, I'm sorry to ask, but would you mind helping out?"