#like I disassociated (/pos) for a few minutes when I read this because it's just so true and this fic just hit so close to home

[kameyyy]

#recs

this didn’t fit anymore lmao😭

try again

part 0.11. HERE TO STAY

“on the other side of the wall, she’s listening to her client with a smile on her face. she’s a professional; she’s been trained to multitask and take notes while still listening and providing feedback to her clients. right now, she’s clicking off a tab back to the one filled with bullet points on things her client has said. she always knows when he arrives. she hears the left door open, which she knows because it squeaks more than the one on the right. he always uses the left door (she thinks it has something to do with the fact that more people touch the handle of the right door on their way in) and his paces are always steady down the creaky hallway. her last sign that he's here is the chair he sits in every time, the one right next to the door into her rooms. the legs are the slightest bit uneven and the back of the chair will lightly tap against the wall as its way of letting her know of her welcome guest. she already has her queue of songs up. she’s always hated her thin walls until he started coming in. a lot has changed in her life since he's come back, hasn't it?"

content warnings: the big finale which isn't that dramatic! i'm sorry for my bad writing! y/n dad reveal! breaking news: her dad is an asshole! tad bit of violence, one mention of blood and also just cursing and abusive fathers </3

he insists on paying and she doesn’t argue with him about it for long; she’ll have countless more opportunities to steal the check from him, she hopes.

she feels better when she's finally eaten after a day of nervous nausea and time spent anxiously bouncing her knee. on top of that, she’d been with him for the majority of the day, distracting her from what had happened in the morning. he even listened to her issues, and she’s finally starting to believe the promise that he’s here to stay. 

they’ve just stepped off the train, and her apartment building is only a few minutes away. he walks alongside her the entire time, their arms brushing each other ever so often. whether it’s on purpose or not, neither of them will fess up.

he’s only distracted from his time spent mindlessly reaching his arm out just the slightest bit more to hit hers ever so often when he feels a buzz in his pocket. he slips out his phone quickly to check its screen:

akaashi’s a moment too late, because they’ve just made it up the stairs to her floor.

she’s already seen him, and he’s already seen her.

she wants to puke. 

he’s there, arguing with iwaizumi outside their door. his sunken eyes and gaunt face make her stomach twist with guilt, but a brush from omi’s knuckles reminds her where she is again. it’s not her job to take care of him. it never was, and it never will be.

"you," the man is pointing a finger towards her, stumbling forward and she immediately shrinks back like a shriveling flower, losing her confidence. omi's already standing in front of her without even thinking about it, putting a barrier between the two.

the old man keeps talking as if he can see right through him, though “you’re a disrespectful worthless piece of shit, you know that? can’t ever in your life put even a single person about yourself. here you are living with a bunch of boys. what are you, a whore? do you suck them off so they’ll keep the bad guys away? they’re doing a shit job at it. i’m standing here after, all, aren’t i?”

“it’s not like that,” her voice is quiet and weak, and she’s not even sure it makes it to the man’s ears.

“you can’t think about anyone else. you're too selfish. you won’t even answer your own father’s calls much less say anything to him at all–”

“i told you to back off!” her voice comes out loud this time, louder than she means for it to, “i’ve told you to back off so many times but you just don’t listen,” she steps out from behind omi, standing next to him instead while the man in front of them stops at the sound of her voice, “these are my roommates and my closest friends. i'm living with them because they genuinely care about me and aren't using me for any purpose, something you can't even dream about. the only reason you’re still standing here is that they have enough self-control and respect for me that they won't beat up the man i regrettably call my father.”

omi’s gaze slides over to hers, trying to see if she’ll meet his eyes. he’s simultaneously trying to communicate how proud of her he is and let her know that he'll support her no matter what happens. 

“take that back,” her father spits, starting to curl his fingers into a fist. she stays silent, and his face begins to flush an angry red. “you’re only proving my point. you’re just an ungreatful little girl who thinks she no longer has to care about anyone else because she's older. i took care of you your whole life and i will not have you ignoring me for the rest of my fucking life!” the smell of beer invades her senses as he steps closer.

“you did jackshit in my life! you never helped me with anything I asked you to. never bought me anything i needed, you've never cared about me. i’ve grown up and moved out. i can do whatever i damn please and i told you to leave me alone. maybe if you respected me i wouldn't ignore you, but that's impossible for you,” she retorts, standing her ground.

“don’t you fucking talk to me like that–” he nears her, only a few steps between them and she starts to feel the panic in her chest, “your stubbornness is the reason your mother left–”

“my stubbornness?” she can’t help but fight back. that’s what separates her from her past self. her younger self ran away, left home as soon as she could to live on her own, but now she’s grown into who she is today, and she won’t let him ruin that. “you treated your wife like shit and refused to change no matter how many times she screamed and argued with you right in front of me about how horrible you were. you've never fixed anything because you’re so stuck up and think you’re so high and mighty that she decided to pack up her bags and leave–”

“then why did she leave you behind too?” 

it’s like her heart stops beating for a second. her blood runs cold before her vision is a blur and the face of the man is crushed right in front of her, sending him to the ground groaning. his hand is covering his nose, preventing her from seeing how badly damaged it is, but she can’t find it in her to care.

“don’t blame her for your faults. grow up and take responsibility for your shit. she deserved better than either of you,” omi is talking down on the man now, and she looks up from her father’s body to the fist of the boy beside her, bruised and a little red.

he’s been by her side since day one, and maybe he disappeared for a section of it, but now he’s back. they're back together, and she stands proudly beside him, “she left me too, but i can’t be mad at her for being sick of you. or us. whatever it is, you’re both selfish and her absence nor yours is something i’m mourning over. i’m happy to have left you too and for the last time, i never want to see you again”

iwaizumi has joined them, standing above the man, no trace of sympathy in his eyes despite the blood that's streaking down her father's face. he tries to get up, only for iwaizumi to keep him down on the ground with a foot on his shoulder, “you heard her. don’t ever show your fucking face around here again. i’ll kill you the moment i lay eyes on you.” iwaizumi’s olive eyes move from the ground to meet hers, slightly softening when he sees her, “are you done with him? i’ll make sure he gets out of here and stays away for good.”

omi’s words from the diner rush back to her head, and she doesn’t feel so bad for relying on her friend. she believes he's willing to help her, and she won’t let her father’s words get to her head. she’s cared for others, unlike him, and developed relationships that she’s earned by giving out her own love. “yeah, i’m done,” her voice is quiet again as she keeps looking at her friend, searching his eyes for any sort of annoyance. but she can’t find any, and she smiles, walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him. “thank you, iwaizumi.”

he has an arm around her shoulders, his foot still resting on her father. “always,” he replies simply before she leaves him embrace, gesturing for omi to follow her. “i’m going to take care of his fist, now.”

iwaizumi only nods, turning his attention back to the man on the ground omi following his gaze as he passes by. iwaizumi will do more than a good enough job at keeping his word, he knows that, but he feels like he should have some part in taking care of the man whose plagued the girl in front of him for her entire life.

but she hasn’t asked him to take care of the man in front of her, and he knows its not his place. she knows she does not resent the man to the point that she wishes harm upon him, she simply wishes that he would leave her alone. and iwaizumi will make sure that wish is honored, and omi should be satisfied with the hit he landed on the man’s nose.

before her hand can even reach the knob of the door, it swings open and she’s pulled inside by the arms of a black-haired man who he recognizes to be akaashi. kita is standing beside him, a hand on [y/n]’s shoulder as they both check on her for any injuries or harm.

he hasn’t seen kita since his days in high school when he was the captain of inarizaki; atsumu told him he had moved out to the countryside but he must have come back after some time. he feels like a weight is lifted off his chest at the sight of her in the arms of his roomates, and he knows that she is cared for. that she has found her people, just like he told her earlier that night, and he hopes that she’s starting to accept his words as the truth.

he’s happy just watching her from afar, but she breaks apart from akaashi’s hug to gesture him in, and kita shuts the door behind him. “omi, this way,” she says with a smile on her face, beckoning him with a hand.

it’s the first time she’s called him by that old name since high school, and he thinks he’s falling even harder for her if that’s possible. she makes him sit on a stool in the kitchen while she searches her cabinets and a nearby closet for medical supplies. she’s begun to apply an ointment to his hand when he opens his mouth, “i can’t believe you think your roomates would ever leave you. look at how they all came to make sure you were okay. mine are one fight away from starting to vote people to kick out of the apartment nearly every week.”

she laughs at his comment, unwrapping a roll of bandages, “i’m sure no one would ever vote for you if that happened, but i guess you’re right, they’re pretty good, aren’t they?”

he nods, watching her face while she’s focused on his hand, “are you doing okay?”

she hums back in response, “yeah. the thing about my mom leaving me behind too kind of stung, but i don’t think life would’ve been any better with her, so it shouldn’t really hurt that bad. i’ll be okay. what you said at the diner really helped, you know. i feel like I can trust myself to say what i'm thinking rather than being scared i'm wrong or selfish. i can trust that it's not egotistical to believe my roomates don’t actually hate me. and that you don’t hate me. so i feel like i’ve finally escaped the weight of my dad’s words always crushing me and playing down anything i do.”

he reaches a hand up with his uninjured hand to wipe away tears from her face she didn't even realize were falling. and then he keeps his hand there, caressing the side of her face. “i don’t hate you, i never have. this entire time…how i feel about you is quite the opposite,” the words are slightly too intimate for him and as soon as they escape his mouth, it becomes hard to swallow and his face feels a little hot, but he doesn’t remove the hand from her cheek. he opts to say something more neutral next, “you did well, talking back down to him. i think you could’ve taken him down yourself.”

she chuckles at that, tying a knot to finish his bandage, “that’s what you think, but i’m sure i’d break my thumb or something. and if i have a hot man to defend me? i’m not lifting a finger.”

“you think i’m hot?” he says with a smile.

her cheeks grow warm under his hand, but she can’t look or move away from him, “i’m pretty sure thousands of people think so. it’s like a fact; newspapers can make money off of just having your face on the front page even if they barely mention you or don’t focus on sports at all.”

“well none of that matters,” he’s smiling softly now, and she’s still looking into his dark-colored eyes, hands holding his wrapped hand, “it just matters what you think.”

“what i think?” she repeats. and maybe it’s the adrenaline from the encounter they just had, or his boldness rubbing off on her in this current moment, but her next words come out clear and confident, “i think i love you, and i have for years. even when you left, i never stopped loving you.”

“i’m gonna make up for those years, you know,” he whispers back, pulling her by the sides to stand between his legs, bringing her closer. “i know i love you. i’d be a fool not to. and i loved you back then in high school too, even if i didn’t know it. i swear, losing you made me realize how much i took you for granted and everything became clear. letting you disappear was the worst mistake i ever made. i’ll make up for that lost time. make it up to you to the the point that you’re sick of me and you forget we were ever even separated for a time in our lives.”

“oh? and how are you gonna do that?” there’s a breathless feeling growing inside of her chest, where her heart beating fast with his confession and the way she's allowing him to pull her face close to this.

“starting with this,” his breath is hot against her lips before he closes the gap between them, and she’s kissing him back. she doesn't mourn or wish for the past, or for anything to change. he's come back and that's all that matters. she's happy with the word again. she likes it better than a phrase like "we fell in love at first sight." instead, she can say, "we met again. we fell in love again.

"we tried again."

it sounds like a story that reminds people endings aren't set in stone. she likes it.

.

.

.

“by the way, have you been playing songs for me in your lounge room when i’m waiting for you?”

“oh, you noticed?”

.

.

.

"the more you love your friends the more their features start to blur until all you remember is a pair of warm, welcoming eyes and laughter that feels like home."

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extras <3

this is the end! thank you for reading try again <3

that last little quote is something i should've included like two chapters ago but it got lost in my gallery so here it is now <3

y/n's a good therapist i swear!!! she takes like one second to hit a play on a spotify playlist she's not playing games on her computer for entire sessions 😭

this is all i have tbh! i hope you enjoyed a little bit of this story <3 thank you so so much for being along on this ride w me!!

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[thisisabouta]

This is About a... Downfall.

It’s happening. I’ve been taking Lamotrigine consistently for 8 months or so. Maybe longer. This is the longest i’ve consistently taken medication in a long time. It’s Lamotrigine along with Doxepin, Hydroxyzine and Gabapentin.

This is where my head has been during these last 8 or so months. I was driving on the freeway, about to merge and as I saw my car getting closer to the concrete barrier, I decided to go faster instead of slowing down for the car that had the right a way. I was about to crash into the side of this fucking car but I just kept going. The car to my right had to slam their brakes and I waited to hear the loud crash from the cars behind them because there was no way this wasn’t about to be a 5 car pile up.

God was there because nothing happened but that was way too fucking close to a catastrophe. The car that I cut off trailed me for awhile and pulled up next to me, I’m sure they were trying to cuss me out, flip me off, something... Whatever they did, I didn’t see it but it was justified. I would’ve been fucking heated if it had been the other way around. I cut people off all the time. I drive like an asshole, whatever. This was different.

I’ve been disassociating for weeks now. In that moment, I could see everything that was happening but my brain was not telling my body the correct way to react. I knew to slow down but I couldn’t. Everything i’ve been doing lately has had a delay. 1 minute. 5 minute. 10 minutes. My processing is delayed. My speech stumbles out of my mouth and doesn’t make sense. I’ve been blacking out and losing moments of time for years now but not to this severity. Now it’s like i’m blacking out and not fully coming back from it.

I’m around people constantly. I’m in a position of “leadership” at work so I have to direct and plan, be on alert at all times. My work day now consists of getting asked questions that I can’t comprehend fast enough so I stand there with a blank stare on my face, slowly losing my credibility. It’s worse because some of the things i’m being asked, I absolutely know the answer to but my brain just cannot get there. I can’t focus on ANYTHING. I know i’m walking around in circles (literally) and I know other people see it but I can’t stop. This circling shit happens a lot but it’s picked up in frequency. After I realize what i’m doing, it’s already done. People are trying to get my input and ideas and all I can do is squeeze my hands together and stare straight ahead, hoping my brain will figure out that I need it to work.

When I try to read, I can’t. This isn’t all the time but it happening occasionally is already too much. Words are not always making sense to me. I cant understand what i’m seeing and I have to go over things multiple times. It’s the same with counting. I shouldn’t have to use a calculator to add 30 and 20 or hold five $5 bills in front of me and stare at them until I realize what it is that i’m looking at. It’s embarrassing to even acknowledge that this is happening.

I’ve been losing things more and more everyday. I’ve had a habit of losing my keys. I lost my work keys at my last job, three times. My new job, i’ve already lost my keys once and it hasn’t even been 2 months that i’ve been working there. When my coworker texted me telling me that she found them, I just wanted to cry. That sounds ridiculous but having those keys is a huge fucking responsibility. I can get fired for losing them. Somehow I escaped that at my last job but it was a constant fear that I had. This last time, I hadn’t used the keys at all that day and I still managed to lose them. I retraced my steps and I had not taken them off of my keychain. Things like that don’t help me overcome this engrained idea I have that the universe is against me. Those keys represent me trying to do everything I can to keep it together while everything still managing to fall apart.

I’ve been forgetting to pay bills that i’ve been paying on the same day, every month for years. I’ve been forgetting people’s names. I can’t always comprehend what people are saying when they’re talking to me... that’s been a big one. I had a customer walk to my register at work. I was looking down at something when he asked if he could pay for his merchandise (I found out later on). That’s not what I heard. It came out as mumbling so I just assumed he was making a comment about something that was left on the counter. From what I remember, I said “Oh... yeah...” and went back to what I was doing. He looked at the Associate next to me and she told him that there were registers at the front where he could pay (she was already helping someone). He walked to the front and it took me about 2 or 3 minutes to realize that he was asking if I could ring him up. And to add to that awesome moment, he glared at me for the rest of the time he was in the fucking store. Yes, one small incident but that’s nowhere near how many times something like that has happened. Someone will be talking to me and i’m literally catching about every third word they’re saying. You can only ask “what?” so many times before that person looks at you like you’re the dumbest person they’ve ever met.

Writing things down... i’ll go back and read over my notes. They make no sense. Things are spelled incorrectly. Everything’s scattered. Like someone else wrote it. I walk around feeling like i’m not apart of my surroundings. My surroundings are not reality, like walking through a Fun House with no fun in sight. It’s like i’m seeing everything in those mirrors that make everything look distorted. All I can do is stare and try to figure it out. I can only imagine what that looks like from the outside. People walking around me while I just stare. Standing there trying not to cry because i’m in public.

I’ve been hallucinating. That comes and goes. I’m still forgetting why I picked certain things up, or why I walked to a certain room or what I was going to tell someone. Things a lot of people do but usually with somewhat immediate recall. I’m not remembering these things til days later, if at all. That’s the more frustrating part. Very small, seemingly insignificant things are happening over and over and over again. It’s no longer an insignificant mishap, this shit is snowballing and affecting everything. I can’t manage a store if I can’t function like a normal, fucking human being. I talked to my Probation Officer about some of the things that were happening and she asked me what medications I was taking and if any of them were used to treat seizures. Gave her the list and two of them just so happen to be used to treat seizures. I already knew that was the case but didn’t think that they would cause this long, intense stream of side effects. I know all about the side effects of medicine. You’ll basically die if you take it and die if you don’t.

I’ve experienced the lighter ones. Nausea, dizziness, dry mouth. The usual shit. Not forgetting how to read a fucking sentence. To my POs knowledge, those drugs do cause a lot of neurological problems, much that make it feel like i’m disassociating. Most of these things had been happening prior to taking the medications but it got much worse over time. I read up on the side effects in detail when I got home and everything aligned. So [because I will control this situation as much as I possibly can] I stopped taking the two that were the main issue. Should anyone ever just stop taking their medicine without consulting their physician first? No. Did I do it anyway? Yes. Now i’m going thru the withdrawal. Besides me losing my fucking mind, the Lamotrigine was actually working. It was the first medication I had taken for my Bipolar that has ever had that positive of an effect on me. But that was at the expense of me literally going insane. It’s not going to matter if I feel better when i’m dead because I crashed my car into a wall. The risk does not outweigh the reward. It did not cure anything. It did not solve even half of my problems but it did make me feel better. Not taking the Gabapentin doesn’t make a difference.

Now i’m going thru the withdrawal. I have 11 drafts on here that i’ve tried to complete and publish over the past few months and they’re just sitting in there. I know the only reason i’m able to write this one is because i’m not on the meds right now. Now my heart hasn’t felt off beat for the past few days (that’s a difficult feeling to describe) but in return, i’m the angriest i’ve been in awhile. I got in an argument with one of my employees this morning and did not feel bad at all. I got into it with another ASM a few days ago. I feel my temper coming back.

I made an appointment with a new MD for next week. I need to start over. I made an appointment to see my current Psychiatrist and cancelled it. I’m done with that guy. He keeps throwing these random pills at me and it’s not working. Not that the next doctor isn’t going to do the same, exact thing but I made an appointment at a facility that offers “Advanced Integrative Medical Care”. Basically, they’re on some new age shit. I’ve been reading up on Ketamine Therapy for over a year and even though it scares the shit out of me, i’m not completely against the idea. They also offer Medical Marijuana. I am officially now in my last 3 month stretch of my house arrest and this shit has finally gotten difficult. The first few weeks were hard because I was still trying to figure out what I could get away with and apparently it’s a lot but now, I just need this shit to end. I’m getting restless. I’m scared too tho.

I’m still going to be on supervised probation for a year (based on good behavior) but I need to get back to... something. I can’t be sober and I don’t want to be. Weed has been fine. Good, enough. I’ve grown a liking to it and found some that actually relaxes me. Alcohol. I miss alcohol. I’ll forever miss alcohol. I’ll miss it even if (when) I start drinking again. It’s that important. Watching movies, seeing people drink to have fun, to relax, to be brave, to socialize. And yet, I shouldn’t engage in that. I know I can engage in good things but the drinking is what i’ve been told I should stay away from. I’m not going to stay away from it. Alcohol makes things better. I know it, the people who tell me not to drink know it. It’s there and I need it. Yes, the problem is that I abuse it. I don’t know if I can overcome that problem. I’m going to try. That sounds crazy and insane so... it’s just going to have to be crazy and insane.

There are other ways to deal with my problems and i’m trying to implement them and hang onto them. I need those things too but I can’t walk thru the world with this open wound that is my life, unarmed. Chemicals... drugs... my brain chemistry will never be right and if I know there’s something out there that will give me temporary relief, i’m taking it. I just have to put the recklessness aside. This time around was a lot. I pray that it was enough to set me straight. Or at least to keep me out of jail for the second time.