#AND THEN I uttered words no artist should ever utter to themself: | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikasaluna · 3 years

Text

生きていたんだよな

⚠ WARNINGS：potentionally triggering content ! graphic suicide descriptions ! self harm ! dark content !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY.

「 Keep in mind your triggers and do not engage if it will provoke negative emotions. You are responsible for your own actions. 」

♥️

notes：gender neutral pronouns, angst, fluff (kind of?), 1,640 words

If you need help I recommend posting on r/suicidewatch or searching for your area’s local suicide helpline using ctrl+f on the following wikipedia page.

♥️

A/N：Also, I didn’t realise until now as I’m writing the tags, that most people spell Kuroo’s first name as “Tetsuro” without the “u”. I wrote it differently because that’s just the direct Japanese spelling and I didn’t know. Sorry about that.

Haikyuu!! / ハイキュー!!

Kuroo Tetsurou 黒尾鉄朗

Kaji, hatsu, mame. Kaji, hatsu, mame. Kaji, hatsu, mame. You repeated the radicles to yourself as you wrote out the character over and over, feeling the muscle memory in your wrist kicking into gear. Your head was throbbing, hundreds of kanji readings swimming around in your mind. Now more than ever, the pressure of growing up had began to weigh down on you like a pile of bricks. Trying to make sense of all the pre-set rules in your life was difficult enough as it was, but just trying was never good enough. Nothing ever was. For every happy person in the world, there had to be an opposite, there had to be a person like you. It was pathetic. You were so damn pathetic.

Your relationship with your mother, who’d left Japan to raise you all on her own, was hanging by threads. Could you really blame her though? Your grades had been falling steadily over the semester, and the scholarship which you’d worked so hard for was slipping through your fingers. You’d given up on yourself, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’d given up on you too. The things that used to be so easy, laughing together at your little wooden dining table, became so far away, every night like a video tape stuck on repeat.

一体何を思ってるんだろう！バカの？

“What the hell are you thinking! Are you stupid?”

Why should you care? Maybe things would be easier if you just let your life fall to pieces. Maybe once you had nothing left to hold on to, you could finally break free. Maybe all this time, all you ever were was stupid.

わかんない。

“I don’t know.”

You were lying through your teeth. Of course you knew. You were stupid for ever believing in all the things that made your life worth living, because they didn’t mean a thing at all. Locking yourself in your room, like you always did, isolating yourself. Too craven to face your problems, too tired to care. I can’t do this anymore. You’d been wandering through life aimlessly for so long. Searching for something, anything; waiting for that reason to come into your life, like every other person was insistent it would. Forcing yourself through each and every day, waiting and waiting; but it was time you realised, that reason never really existed at all. It was just another lie people told themselves, to try and make sense of their own existence. You were sure they knew as well as you did now, somewhere deep in their hearts, that their lives, your life, was just another figure on the chart. Another meaningless statistic. Your thoughts were racing, clogging up your brain and threatening to spew out of your mouth. You pulled your diary out from under your pillow;

’Thursday, 24th of December’

「Today’s a special day, isn’t it? I don’t know if I’ll be around for Christmas this year, that’s okay, it was never really my thing anyway.

お母さん、ごめんなさい。いま、離れなくちゃダメだ。　　」

“Okaa-san, I’m sorry. I have to leave you now.”

With that, you couldn’t take it anymore. You’d been thinking about this day longer than you could bear, drafting your final words over and over in your head. But when it came down to it, was there really a right thing to say?

Grabbing your grey hoodie, you plugged some headphones into your i-pod. You’d figured that leaving your phone behind was a better idea, it meant that no one could call or track you. You’d do it right, and this time you’d make sure not to wake up ever again. Reaching the pavement outside, you began moving along you streets. You walked slowly, taking the time to look along the streets one last time. It was almost nostalgic, dream-like in a sense. The urban road you grew up which you had never payed much mind, was calming. For once in a long time, you felt truly at peace.

There was a parking building nearby, one which your Okaa-san often parked in. It was tall and old, reaching 7 storeys into the sky, surrounded below by solid, grey asphalt. This was it. In the elevator ride to the top floor your heart was beating hard in your chest, thoughts so loud you thought they’d grow out of your mind and become real. You couldn’t allow yourself to look back now.

Standing by the ledge of the building, you looked out over the city, and wondered if anybody could see you up there. What would they think of you, somebody who’d throw their life away so easily? Hitting play on your i-pod, 生きていたんだよな (ikiteitandayona) by あいみょん (aimyon) began to play. The lyrics were tragic and bittersweet, but the rhythm made your adrenaline pump. You teetered even closer to the building’s edge, legs wobbling. The height made you feel dizzy as you peered down off the drop, and all the way down to the pavement below. But not for a second did you feel scared.

冷たいアスファルトに流れるあの血

♩ ‘On the cold asphalt, their blood flows.’

赤さが綺麗で綺麗で

♩ ‘That red is beautiful, beautiful.’

How long would you fall? You thought, sitting down and swinging your legs over the side of the building. You almost wanted to laugh. It reminded you of all those times you had snuck onto the school roof with your classmate in high school, what was his name again? Kuroo? Right, Kuroo Tetsurou. On the last week of school while you were skipping last period maths together, you had convinced him to smoke a joint with you right there on the roof. Those were the final memories you had ever made together, since you’d each left for different universities. Why were you thinking of him now, of all times?

最後のサヨナラは他の誰でもなく

♩ ‘Their last goodbye,'

Standing up, you leaned back and looking out over the view, one last time.

自分に叫んだんだろう

♩ ‘screamed to nobody but themself.’

You took a breath in, deep enough to feel your lungs burn. Tears stung at your eyes, but you bit them back and closed your eyes. Part of you wished you could fix this all, but you didn’t know how. You didn’t have the energy to try and make things better.

鳥になって雲をつかんで

♩ ‘becoming a bird and grabbing the clouds’

Shuffling your toes over the edge, you had made the decision in your head.

風になって

♩ ‘becoming the wind...’

Your muscles relaxed, and you allowed yourself to fall off of the edge.

“WAIT-!” You heard a scream for a split second, a hand grabbing hopelessly at the back of your hoodie as you began to descend. It was too late now. The wind in your ears blocked out the voice yelling from above, muffling the sound. It was strangely tranquil here, floating down off the the 7th floor, the clearest your head had felt in months. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but wonder.

Was this the right choice?

Finally, the concrete embraced you as your body slammed into the ground.

[This artwork does not belong to me. I saved it to my laptop a long time ago and now I can’t find the source, if you know the artist please send me a message so I can credit properly.]

________________________________________________________________

Your eyes fluttered open and bright white light flooded your vision.

Where the hell am I?

Everything hurt. Your head was pounding and your mind was fuzzy. Cotton sheets lay underneath your aching body and a mess of black hair lay beside you. Someone was sitting on a chair next to the bed, his cheek resting on your arm, shoulders rising and falling slowly in his sleep.

“Tetsurou?” Your voice came out broken and hoarse.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes red and swollen, had he been crying?

“W-where am I?”

“We’re in the hospital,” he said shakily “the firefighters caught you when you fell.”

The memories came flooding back. That’s right, you jumped. So, that wasn’t the ground you felt back then? Your head was filled with questions, but you weren’t sure where to start. He probably thought you were pathetic too, but part of you was just so happy. Happy you were alive to see him again. Kuroo had to be the only friend who ever really understood you and your stupid humor, having him there reminded you of that. Maybe it had impacted you more than you realised, not having a single person at uni who really got you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He uttered quietly from beside you.

“Tell you what, Tetsurou?” You looked over, sitting up steadily. His eyes were filled with pain.

“I was so scared, why didn’t you tell me what was going on!” Kuroo covered his face with his hand, but you could still see the tears falling onto his lap as he spoke. “I-I love you, you know that right? I still love you, and I would do anything... so why the hell didn’t you come talk to me!” His confession was broken and hurt, but it made your stomach twist. You couldn’t even understand it yourself, why you felt like this.

“What was I supposed to say? I’m pathetic, I don’t have any other reason.” It was true. Compared to most people, your life was easy. You had a family, a home, friends, education. What reason did you really have? To try to end your life, to be unhappy at all.

“I don’t care about that, just please... don’t leave me again.” It was the first time you’d ever heard Kuroo being so serious, and it almost scared you. Tears were stinging in your eyes at his words. You felt his big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a safe, warm hug as your tears stained his shirt. Were you really so oblivious that you never realised how he felt about you?

“O-okay... and, Tetsurou?”

“Yes?”

“I love you too.”

#haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #kuroo x reader angst #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo imagine #kuroo tetsuro x reader angst #kuroo tetsuro angst #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo tetsuro drabble #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo tetsuro imagine

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icecoldflames · 4 years

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Chapter 4 - The Mystery of Sanders Castle

Masterlist

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***

Present Day, England

Classes were the same ones Roman would have done in America but somehow he was looking forward to these ones. Unfortunately, he had to wait for last period with Ms. Yano’s history class. He supposed he should be lucky—he could’ve had her class tomorrow.

His first class was with the first man he had been introduced to yesterday, Mr. Divan for science. Obviously, for the first class of the year, nothing was really taught. Most of it was rules and introductions. Roman learned that Mr. Divan had travelled pretty much everywhere. To Tanzania, Singapore, Bulgaria, Paraguay, Laos, Taiwan, and so many other countries. Mr. Divan showed a quick presentation of photographs he had taken and Roman had loved it so much that he had asked him, after class, if he would send the presentation to him so he could look more closely at the pictures.

The next class was English which was taught by a short, older man named Mr. Losnedahl. Oskar was in that class.

Math taught by Ms. Cirenza (Satomi in that class) and Creative Writing with Ms. Wren flew by so quickly that Roman felt like he blinked and they were both over.

If this was how his days would go, Roman wished he could slow time because soon he’d be on the plane ride home back to America for summer.

On his way to Ms. Yano’s class, Roman bumped into Maxime also on his way to her class. “How has your day been?” Roman asked him excitedly, feeling his body beginning to buzz. He had been looking forward to this moment since last evening.

“It was good,” Maxime said simply.

Roman was still not used to how un-chatty Maxime was. So far, the longest conversation he had had with his roommate was about Harry Potter yesterday morning.

“Do you have any classes with Oskar?” Roman tried again. “He and I share science and math class.”

“Yeah, English and my nature class.”

They arrived at Ms. Yano’s class and, when Roman walked in, he was momentarily blown away by all the art and portraits hung on the walls and the patterned tapestry hung like a makeshift ceiling. Most of the rooms in the castle were high-ceilinged, very open and large. But the tapestry made the whole classroom seem like some kind of den. Like a cottage in the middle of a flower field.

Roman would meet the rest of his teachers tomorrow but he knew that none of their classrooms would compare to Ms. Yano’s.

Ms. Yano herself stood over to the side, speaking quietly to a student who Roman recognized as Spencer from math class.

Ms. Yano was of average height and her black hair was cut severely at her shoulders. She wore blood red lipstick that made her look like some kind of vampire. But it oddly suited her. She was, however, no doubt Satomi’s mom for she had practically the same face as her.

The desks were in pairs and Roman and Maxime found a spot together near the front without a word being uttered between them. Roman began opening up his notebook and made sure there was enough lead in his mechanical pencil to last the whole class. If Ms. Yano would be spilling the tea on the Sanders’ and Scharf’s then he couldn’t have any issues with writing all of it down.

Maxime looked confusedly at the opened notebook. “Is she the type of teacher to teach on the first day?” He hesitantly began opening up his own notebook and pencil case.

“Oh, no. At least, I haven’t heard anything about that. But I’m hoping she’ll shed some light on the royal family who used to live in this castle and the family who used to live in the castle across the woods.”

Maxime seemed to want to say a lot of things at once. “What castle across the woods…? Oh, are you talking about those ruins?”

“Ruins?” Roman’s eyes grew wide. No one said anything about ruins. What had happened to the Scharf’s castle?

At that exact moment, Spencer and Ms. Yano seemed to finish their conversation and Spencer sat themself down next to another student near the back of the classroom.

Ms. Yano fixed a small pile of papers on her desk before finally looking at her last class of the day. Her eyes drifted over her students and then stopped at Roman’s face. Her whole body froze and she looked like she stopped breathing. Roman was fully prepared to help her if something happened.

Ms. Yano blinked once and then she seemed fine. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she had momentarily stopped breathing.

Roman couldn’t help but feel that he had caused whatever had happened to Ms. Yano. She had been looking at the class and stopped at Roman. Unless it was some kind of horrible coincidence.

Disappointingly, the class was like all the rest he had been to that day. Introductions. Roman learned Ms. Yano’s first name (Akemi), where she was born (Japan), her husband’s name and occupation (Stan, a freelance artist), and even her favourite colour (red). But Roman learned absolutely nothing about the Sanders’ or the Scharf’s.

Roman had been patient enough to wait for today but waiting another day and possibly more? He didn’t think he could take it.

So, once class was dismissed for the day he told Maxime that he was going to ask Ms. Yano a question and that he could go on. Maxime was probably glad to be away from Roman’s extroverted self anyway.

As the room emptied, Roman walked over to Ms. Yano’s desk like a fish swimming upstream.

Roman was about to ask about the Sanders when Ms. Yano suddenly stood up and gave a tight smile to him. “Roman, do you want to go for a walk to the library?”

Roman’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. “The library?” He repeated. Could Ms. Yano read his mind? Or did Satomi tell her mom about his interest in the Sanders’? That was a possibility. “I was going to ask about the Sanders’ and if you could tell me about them. I know that you’re going to tell us about it in class but I’m beyond curious. I have to know.”

Ms. Yano nodded and she pursed her lips, looking at Roman so oddly that he wondered if he had anything stuck in his teeth. “Yes, I’ll tell you on the way to the library.” And then she began walking.

“As you probably know, the last royals who lived in this beautiful castle were the Sanders’. This consisted of King James, Queen Alice, and Prince Logan,” Ms. Yano began, slowing her walking just slightly. Roman listened very carefully, not wanting to miss a detail.

“When the prince was around 19, he was put into an arranged marriage with the eldest princess from Betrug, just across the woods.” She gestured to her left where Roman assumed the Scharf’s castle to be. “The Scharf’s. It’s said that they got along just fine. Her name was Philomena and she brought her brother, the crown prince, Virgil Scharf to their first meeting.

“Prince Virgil was in an arranged marriage, himself. To a princess from France. Anyway, that’s not necessarily important to this story. The two princes were said to be very close, like best friends. Philomena and Logan got along just fine as well, acting much more like friends than lovers but, then again, they were practically strangers to one another.

“When Logan visited the Scharf’s a couple weeks later, some of the citizens there took Philomena hostage—” Ms. Yano suddenly stopped short and Roman blinked. He felt as though he had just woken up from a long nap and was trying to remember where he was.

They had passed the library doors and Ms. Yano had led them down a deadend hallway where he assumed no one really went. Roman glanced up at Ms. Yano, perplexed, but the teacher seemed transfixed on something else. Her face was tilted up and Roman followed her gaze up the wall where a massive portrait was hung.

“It’s me,” Roman breathed.

“No,” Ms. Yano said, shaking her head softly. She pointed to the gilded metal nameplate at the bottom of the portrait. “It’s Prince Logan.”

Roman sucked in his breath. “Prince Logan?” He repeated, in awe. “We could’ve been twins.”

Logan, maybe late teens, was sitting on the steps of a gazebo that Roman remembered looking at when he explored the gardens outside with Patton earlier that morning. His face was serious and his light brown hair was brushed back. He was surrounded by dark blue flowers. And, although Roman was 14, there was no mistaking how uncanny the resemblance was between him and Prince Logan.

“Roman, how well do you know your ancestry?” Ms. Yano asked, tearing her gaze away from the portrait and, instead, looking back at Roman.

Roman rubbed his chin. “Well, my dad has Irish roots and my mom, well, my mom’s mom was adopted, just like Patton is, and my mom’s dad has Scottish roots.” He paused. “Do you think I’m related to Prince Logan?” The idea seemed so surreal coming out of his mouth and, had Prince Logan not looked exactly like Roman, he wouldn’t have believed it himself.

“Does your mom know anything about her mom?” Ms. Yano asked and Roman tried to think of anything. But nothing came to mind.

“No, my grandmother died a couple of years ago. She was adopted as a toddler so I don’t think she would’ve remembered anything anyway,” Roman replied.

Ms. Yano sighed and stayed silent.

Roman was about to ask Ms. Yano to finish her story. Did they ever get Philomena back in time for the wedding? What about Prince Virgil?

But another teacher Roman didn’t recognize hurried up to Ms. Yano. “Akemi! The staff meeting is about to start!”

Ms. Yano pursed her lips and she glanced at the watch around her wrist. “Of course,” she muttered and looked down at Roman apologetically. “I’m sorry, Roman. I have to go.” She gestured to the library. “I suggest you take a look in the library. They have a couple of books on Prince Logan that you might enjoy.” She hurried off and Roman was left alone with the picture of Prince Logan staring down at him.

At this point, Roman was desperate. He had been given a little taste of the story of Prince Logan and he would do just about anything to know the end. He made his way out of the hallway, looked at the library, and sighed as he made his way inside.

The library was nice, Roman supposed. It was definitely old and he sneezed almost as soon as he entered. He asked the librarian where the books on Prince Logan were and she directed him to the back of the library.

Libraries were not Roman’s thing. He found them too silent and foreboding. And way too serious. But he needed to know what happened to Prince Logan and the Scharf siblings.

He kept his steps quiet as he progressed deeper and deeper into the library. It was nearly empty, Roman only passing a couple of students. Some of them weren’t even reading, they were just speaking in hushed voices.

Roman supposed it was better than hanging out in the bathroom, which a lot of kids at his old school used to do which was just disgusting and weird.

Finally, he made it to the back of the library where an unlit stone fireplace was. On either side of it was a reading nook where two massive leather armchairs were placed, a wooden, round table between them.

In the nook to Roman’s left, he recognized Satomi reading a brown book. She was upside down in the armchair, her legs sticking out over the back rest. She seemed very interested in her book as her face was scrunched up.

Satomi glanced up, as though she could detect someone near her. “Hi Roman,” she greeted, pulling her legs back down and sitting up normally. “Are you here for books on the Sanders’?”

Roman nodded and took the armchair opposite her. He sank into the chair, and felt as though he could sleep in them. He might come to the library more often just to sit in the armchairs. “Yeah.” He gestured to the book she was holding, a finger keeping her page. “What book are you reading?”

“Ronan M.V. Gighe-Lapillio’s biography,” Satomi responded, flashing Roman a view of the brown cover.

“Ronan M.V. who-now?” Roman tried to repeat. It was almost as confusing as Dumbledore’s full name. “Who’s that?”

“The founder of Violet Branch,” Satomi said with a shrug. “Although it’s rumoured that Ronan was just a pseudonym.”

There were so many mysteries that they were beginning to make Roman’s head spin. “Well, wouldn’t people know his real name anyway?”

“You’d think so, but no. Ronan was a secretive and private man and no one ever saw him, at least, not without knowing. He made no public appearances but it was said that he was a fast worker and an even faster runner, able to be in one place before being in another, totally different place a couple minutes later.”

Roman couldn’t help but have the thought that Ronan was just one letter away from his own name. Maybe it was just because he just saw his own face on a portrait that was painted two centuries ago. It seemed everything was connected back to him somehow.

Which made him remember what Satomi had asked when she first met him. Have I met you before? The, at first, weird question suddenly made perfect sense. “Hey, Satomi, I think I know why you thought you met me before.”

“Oh?” Satomi’s eyebrows jumped up and her eyes, which had been gradually roaming back to her book, shifted back to Roman.

“Your mom showed me a portrait of Prince Logan. He looks exactly like me.” Even saying it made Roman feel weird.

Satomi’s eyes widened. “Of course!” She exclaimed so loudly that the librarian who was near furiously shushed her. “Sorry,” she said, quieter, but it didn’t look like she was. “That makes so much sense. And it can’t possibly be a coincidence. You two practically look like twins. So you must be a descendant of Prince Logan!” Her voice kept growing as she continued but she spoke the next part more bitterly. “I always knew Crespo was a fraud.”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” Roman interrupted her train of thought. “It’s possible that me and the headmistress are descendants.”

Satomi rolled her eyes and she had a look on her face Roman hadn’t seen before. “Humph. I doubt it.”

“What do you have against her?”

“I don’t have anything against her,” Satomi said, crossing her arms and looking down angrily at her shoes.

Roman scoffed. “Sure, okay. I don’t believe you for one second.”

“I just don’t like her and I don’t believe Prince Logan’s her ancestor.”

Roman still wasn’t so sure of her answer but he decided to let it drop. He stood up, “you think you can show me the best books on Prince Logan then? I think I might die if I don’t find out what happens.”

Roman left the library with two books, one rather thin and another which had some weight to it. Satomi said they were the best two to read to get a grasp on what had happened without the annoying authors’ biases smacking you in the face and spitting on your unconscious body. Satomi’s words, not his.

Roman had the quickest supper he had ever had in his entire life and then he was off to his dorm to start reading, something he had never done before.

He decided to read the thin one first, hoping that maybe he’d get enough information from it without having to read the other one.

By the time Roman finished the first book, around three in the morning, Roman had a good idea of the events that had happened in this very castle. His butt was sore from sitting on the toilet seat (he had moved to the bathroom to read after Oskar and Maxime went to bed) and, while his body was stiff and tired, his brain was whirling.

Because there was one thing he wasn’t expecting.

Prince Virgil and Prince Logan had definitely been gay. And they had definitely been in a secret relationship.

#the mystery of sanders castle

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